tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89473215411379349702024-02-19T04:41:13.719-05:00Mim's the WordA blog for language lovers and word buffsmim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-50833025005060968452023-04-16T15:10:00.000-04:002023-04-16T15:10:48.127-04:00Edward Koren had the best way to explain ‘cross-writing’: he drew it<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdq_LFloGBsQhoJ6mzHhl8D_P0aSfIHbiqDuoVVmmgmi_6FOfgI-intsG6PS2kqqyLBjfFno8yfQXmCXpQevj06oDf9MbQvPstRUW5j6Mdfu5Jsalb0nrbG99naP37KxNxlvqmSOsfSfRlfVW6N4XzR0tzMri4tQ2AbcFEALTUsVvYnNo5YYyUQ8x0Q/s4000/Ed%20Koren%20cross-writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdq_LFloGBsQhoJ6mzHhl8D_P0aSfIHbiqDuoVVmmgmi_6FOfgI-intsG6PS2kqqyLBjfFno8yfQXmCXpQevj06oDf9MbQvPstRUW5j6Mdfu5Jsalb0nrbG99naP37KxNxlvqmSOsfSfRlfVW6N4XzR0tzMri4tQ2AbcFEALTUsVvYnNo5YYyUQ8x0Q/w300-h400/Ed%20Koren%20cross-writing.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Like so many of his fans, I knew Edward Koren as a
cartoonist for <i>The New Yorker.</i></span><i> </i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But I also got to
know him a bit better when he illustrated two small books for a new specialty-publishing
imprint I had been put in charge of.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was 1999; the 20th century was about to become the
21st. But the books were from the 19th-century, a reprise of two little-known
works by Lewis Carroll. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This was back when, if geography prevented you from
doing business face to face, you did it voice to voice. When Ed picked up the
phone at his home in Vermont, he had a voice befitting someone who could create
curious little creatures that poked gentle and astute fun at human foibles. It
was warm, engaging, instantly at ease in the conversation. And quick to laugh.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He would be delighted to illustrate the little books,
he said. Then he startled me. He told me how conscious he was that he would be
illustrating works by an author whose <i>Alice in Wonderland</i> featured the
drawings of the great John Tenniel. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I couldn’t imagine why someone as accomplished as Ed
would even give that a thought. What I came to realize was that describing Ed
as a cartoonist was only half the story: he was an artist who was a master
cartoonist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then he startled me again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I told him what the modest budget was and asked if xx
number of illustrations would be acceptable. Yes, but with a caveat. If he felt
the book required a few more illustrations, then he would do them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">An artist who was a master cartoonist and a generous
professional.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He never heard it<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In some ways, Lewis Carroll’s century was made for Ed.
He did not create on a computer—he drew his illustrations by hand. He would
mail them to me in batches, which I would circulate around the office. It was
easy to track them: all you had to do was follow the laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I would then call him with any feedback, which was
mainly to tell him how much everyone loved them and thanked him for the laughs.
That was good to hear, he told me. But surely, I said, he must be used to that.
No.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Working alone at home, creating those <i>New Yorker</i>
cartoons, he said, “I never hear the laughter.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Only the truly cross would do<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One of the works Ed was illustrating was Lewis
Carroll’s <i>Eight or Nine Wise Words About Letter-Writing. </i>It was filled
with Carrollesque counsel, and Ed was illustrating each piece of advice. Among
them was “Cross-Writing Makes Cross Reading.” Neither Ed nor I realized at
first that cross-writing was a thing. In fact, the term still isn’t in the
online version of <i>Merriam-Webster</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ed sent the drawing but wasn’t completely satisfied
that he had captured Carroll’s meaning. After more research (Google was a new
kid on the block then), we discovered that cross-writing was a way to save
paper while testing the reader’s patience and eyesight. Correspondents would
fill the page with their pen, then turn the paper at a 90-degree angle and
write some more in cramped, small letters. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The drawing that Ed had sent would probably have
worked, given the book’s small size. But it didn’t work for Ed. I would need to
send the drawing back to him so he could change it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Had he created the illustration on the computer, this
would have been a fairly easy fix. Instead, Ed excised the portion he wanted to
redo with an X-ACTO knife, replacing it with his new, spot-on illustration of cross-writing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe it was easy for him to do, but I couldn’t
imagine the kind of surgical forbearance it required to replace it so smoothly
that even on the original, you couldn’t tell.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I know that for a fact, because after the books were
published—to great success—Ed gifted me with the original. Every time I look at
it, I chuckle. I hope that in the next world that Ed passed on to on April 14,
he hears the laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-44205730915130951322022-11-03T14:05:00.000-04:002022-11-03T14:05:58.927-04:0040 years of sanctuary at Books & Books<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWcpaVfWABFknuom8LpZilzk4_j4E9TF9dmLQKYu_FRHo276tE8l0pXxaLKyp_aI3vmS9uHdHqNezarMuC0t9MvIaFaZaPvuf0DIgkH1-2MqFEbQHIgIYQzAyVMDIXvI7KW5uL8Qlx0OwDwm8rFGp1JxsLO0uiD6xVibnHDENkKSGiE5JrIj5fx3BL6w/s299/Books%20&%20Books%20interior.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="169" data-original-width="299" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWcpaVfWABFknuom8LpZilzk4_j4E9TF9dmLQKYu_FRHo276tE8l0pXxaLKyp_aI3vmS9uHdHqNezarMuC0t9MvIaFaZaPvuf0DIgkH1-2MqFEbQHIgIYQzAyVMDIXvI7KW5uL8Qlx0OwDwm8rFGp1JxsLO0uiD6xVibnHDENkKSGiE5JrIj5fx3BL6w/w400-h226/Books%20&%20Books%20interior.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">“I claim sanctuary!”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In medieval England, there was no more powerful a cry.
The social station of the person was of no consequence; what mattered was that
they were fleeing a pursuer and had arrived at the door of a church. Lift the
wooden knocker on the door, utter the three words, and you would be granted
asylum within its walls for 40 days.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sanctuary</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
derives from the Latin <i>sanctus</i>, meaning sacred. It is the same word that
gives us <i>sacrosanct. </i>We don’t use these solemn terms much anymore and
yet, who doesn’t want a place that we know will shelter us? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Refuge and ritual<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Although there is no wooden knocker on the door of
<a href="https://www.booksandbooks.com/" target="_blank">Books & Books</a>, for 40 years now this Miami bookstore has been a sanctuary
for readers lucky enough to live in, or visit, South Florida. Most of us are
not likely to be fleeing pursuers (although this <i>is</i> Miami…). We are
seeking refuge of another sort: a refresher for our minds, a respite for our souls.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We come, ostensibly, for the books and for the ritual
that entails. Browsing shelves, lingering at tables, turning pages, treading on
wooden floors whose reassuring creak signals a certain permanence. But we also
come for the community.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Invariably there is someone to talk to, even if we’ve
just met. The café and courtyard practically assure this, as they serve up
fellowship as deftly as delicious fare. The cohort of hyper-readers—the staff—is
equally adept at practicing the ancient rite of independent bookstores, guiding
you from one room to the next, each its own literary ecosystem, to the books
that seem to have been waiting for you. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mecca and safe space<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And always (even though he might be at another Books
& Books location) there is Mitchell. Founder, owner, visionary—Mitchell
Kaplan has always understood that despite what early skeptics said, South
Florida was a mecca for readers. Or maybe he simply knew how to make it that
mecca, cofounding the <a href="https://www.miamibookfair.com/" target="_blank">Miami Book Fair</a> at almost the same time he opened Books
& Books. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When the stores had to close temporarily during the
pandemic, it meant they could no longer set out their rows of wooden chairs for
their continual author events. But the staff quickly pivoted, bringing us
authors remotely, night after night, as we sat in our own chairs. During those grim
and fearful days, the virtual Books & Books became our safe space, allowing
us, for a short sweet time, to escape
the incessant worry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We are accustomed these days to having bird
sanctuaries and wildlife sanctuaries, so why not a reader’s refuge? We may not
be extinct or even endangered but we are…grateful. Books & Books is where the
exploration of ideas, so sacrosanct in a democracy, finds space to be free. You
don’t need to knock on the door. Just come in, and you will find sanctuary. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">May those wooden floors forever creak.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-2337595460001313352022-08-09T14:11:00.000-04:002022-08-09T14:11:48.532-04:00Some Words for David McCullough's Biographer<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhe7aNRF1uQ5PUPvCe3hDghqMfrkYHBJ3ofxbewN0eMcwj1eFEc5iQpY6IFxENKt8rRdWfOTd9KPXayBdRi2V-fRcxXLi8NnodMpt4hfi44d0t1Kn1hJJstEpzOWuxiv42VmQ7t42bNqRxDwauDUWerfdMo6m_Fp-P_DkRRxHXuSK-n7YlNxmdH4LyFg/s499/David%20McCullough%20The%20American%20Spirit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="335" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhe7aNRF1uQ5PUPvCe3hDghqMfrkYHBJ3ofxbewN0eMcwj1eFEc5iQpY6IFxENKt8rRdWfOTd9KPXayBdRi2V-fRcxXLi8NnodMpt4hfi44d0t1Kn1hJJstEpzOWuxiv42VmQ7t42bNqRxDwauDUWerfdMo6m_Fp-P_DkRRxHXuSK-n7YlNxmdH4LyFg/s320/David%20McCullough%20The%20American%20Spirit.jpg" width="215" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Several years ago I had the chance to interview David
McCullough. Like many other Americans, I had long been under the spell of his
voice and his books. I knew I would need to rein in my desire to listen to him
for—oh, hours. So I promised him I would ask just five questions, and ended up
asking only four.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As well-versed as he was in giving interviews, the
last one took him by surprise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of all the people he had written about, I asked him,
whom would he like to write the story of David McCullough?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">No one had ever asked him that before, he told me. But
he had a ready candidate: the 19th-century British writer Anthony Trollope.
“He’s really good,” David said—and then remembered he hadn’t written
about him. He paused for a few moments and then announced his choice. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“She
was a wonderful writer, a good judge of people, and would have been a wonderful
novelist,” he said. “She was pretty judgmental, but I guess I can take that.”
He added jokingly, “I’d tell her to go easy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“She”
was Abigail Adams.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Instantly
I found myself thinking, <i>Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be Abigail Adams.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We
will, of course, never know what words this determined woman, whose
correspondence with her husband David McCullough held in his hands when he was
researching <i>John Adams</i>, might have brought to his biography. But here
are some words from my interview that Abigail might have approved of—thoughts David
McCullough shared that help to illustrate why he was, as <i>The New York Times</i>
described him, a “spellbinding author.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I don’t think of myself as a historian or biographer.”</span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Surprising words, don’t
you think, for a writer whose histories and biographies earned him two Pulitzers
(<i>Truman, John Adams) </i>and two National Book Awards (<i>The Path Between
the Seas, Mornings on Horseback</i>)? But then he explained:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m
a writer who’s chosen to write about real people, and events that really
happened.” He viewed history as his “terrain.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“It was a particularly powerful summons, especially for young
people. It affected my wife and me very much.” </span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The summons was from
John F. Kennedy, who in his 1961 Inaugural Address famously exhorted Americans
to “ask what you can do for your country.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">David
McCullough answered that summons, leaving a secure job in New York City for
Washington, D.C.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Eventually,
he would receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom for what he did for his
country: helping readers bear witness to its history through those “events that
really happened.” But first he worked for the U.S. Information Agency.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I
was in way over my head,” he said. “But that’s how you learn to swim.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(These
many years later, on the weekend that David McCullough passed away, there was a
second, unexpected intersection with JFK. That Sunday, Caroline Kennedy was on
the Pacific island of Guadalcanal in her role as US ambassador to Australia. She
was marking the 80th anniversary of the World War II battle her father famously
fought in as captain of the PT-109 torpedo boat.) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Studying painting helps me to observe more closely.” </span></b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So close was the juxtaposition
of painting and writing for David McCullough that he sometimes captured in
watercolor a setting he was writing about. It’s also why he was particular
about certain prepositions: “When I write, I work <i>in</i> a book, not on it,”
he told me—just as you do a painting.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>“They were not perfect—perfect and human are contradictory. Nor
did what they achieve result in perfection, especially when declaring all men
to be created equal.” </b>David </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">was
referring, of course, to Adams, Jefferson, and the others who hammered out the
Declaration of Independence and the path this country would take. He continued:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What they did was to give us the ideal to strive for. They didn’t
attain equality. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn't keep trying. Each
generation of Americans tries to carry the torch of that ideal.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Somehow
it seemed an easier torch to carry when we knew David McCullough was among us,
his words and his voice there to ground us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oh, what I wouldn't give to have asked him more questions. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-9090397065436850982021-07-01T09:04:00.000-04:002021-07-01T09:04:03.474-04:00On This July Fourth, Let’s Say Farewell to This Word<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2fO6iS55Qxp4krYb7tJBp4KwfGPT-S0VRPeWS_rPvQsRUXg1BzHeUqkukbKpYD5tuJ5dwuhZxk_qZi68zmZwmVoMeurJuBG2tNsJBgK8anrWx2myxJ2Dy9saZO_zug0FUxKOn_Npfqqb/s2048/4th_of_July+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2fO6iS55Qxp4krYb7tJBp4KwfGPT-S0VRPeWS_rPvQsRUXg1BzHeUqkukbKpYD5tuJ5dwuhZxk_qZi68zmZwmVoMeurJuBG2tNsJBgK8anrWx2myxJ2Dy9saZO_zug0FUxKOn_Npfqqb/s320/4th_of_July+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now that the
US government has done a word purge of “alien” from its immigration policy
manual, replacing it with “noncitizen” and “undocumented individual,” it may be
time to toss out its frequent companion as well. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Let’s say
farewell to “foreign.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Foreign”
stems from the Latin <i>foris, </i>meaning outside in the physical sense. A
close etymological cousin is “forum,” originally a public place—i.e., outside.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So far, so
good—and, you may be saying, so what? After all, dictionaries still start their
list of meanings for “foreign” with such benign explanations as “situated
outside a place or country.” This is the first definition in Merriam-Webster.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But keep
going down the list and you’ll soon come to a very different meaning, of “alien
in character: not connected or pertinent” (Merriam-Webster’s fourth entry). And
there we are, back once again to “alien.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Freighted
and fraught<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I vividly
recall being described as a foreigner the year I lived in England. And yet, I
didn’t <i>feel</i> like an alien, or that I was not pertinent. I just felt like
an American who was in another country—not a foreign one, just a different one.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The problem
with “foreign” is that it’s freighted. Fraught with negative
connotations—stranger, outsider, unknown to the point of being suspect—it has a
circle-the-wagons sentiment to it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So why do we
continue to call the familiar “foreign”? Our planet is a globalized, world
society now, and in many ways has been for millennia. (In the year 1000, for
example, there was a brisk Persian Gulf-China trade route that also connected
to East Africa.) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yet diplomats
continue to engage in <i>foreign</i> relations, when the goal is to find
connections with other countries. And would a <i>foreign</i> language be less
intimidating to those of us who don’t know it if we thought of it as a world,
or a global, or simply another language instead? Ditto for its native speakers.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fight vs. facilitate<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Foreign”
has its place, of course, as Veterans of Foreign Wars can attest. These
soldiers were fighting enemies whose essential values threatened to undermine
our own: that were alien to our national character. The debt we owe them is
huge.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But when we
don’t need to fight, let’s use words that facilitate tolerance rather than
fight against it, however unconsciously. When we can swap “us-versus-them”
language for words that instead suggest “we,” let’s do it. It’s just the kind
of thing worth thinking about as we head outside to celebrate on this Fourth of
July.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Image by </span></i><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:HP_R817" title="User:HP R817"><i><span style="color: #0645ad; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Tom Walsh</span></i></a><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">, </span></i><a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">CC
BY-SA 3.0</span></i></a><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">, via Wikimedia Commons<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><br /><p></p>mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-4881415946218360082021-06-01T10:11:00.000-04:002021-06-01T10:11:32.371-04:00What is this thing called ‘hug’?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTBY3tfKtIsHqlD-nMa9P2rhUCRqKGTPIvSCWkwgeUCOjfJmkiY9C0YgUUg-I_lKmwgxbnGnozdfXkcy2la1nhr5SFrRPWSJiJKElM88uDNrqpUASa67XQ_n3LJgNyxt_5aaJiadeLym4/s2048/Panda+hug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqTBY3tfKtIsHqlD-nMa9P2rhUCRqKGTPIvSCWkwgeUCOjfJmkiY9C0YgUUg-I_lKmwgxbnGnozdfXkcy2la1nhr5SFrRPWSJiJKElM88uDNrqpUASa67XQ_n3LJgNyxt_5aaJiadeLym4/s320/Panda+hug.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">(</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Wikimedia Commons photo by </span><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=User:Todorov.petar.p&action=edit&redlink=1" title="User:Todorov.petar.p (page does not exist)"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;">Todorov.petar.p</span></a></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">)</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Have you hugged…somebody today? (The expression began
as “Have you hugged your kid today?” Now it’s gone so far as to ask, as an Etsy
selection does, “Have you hugged your burrito unicorn?” Um, <i>why</i>?) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Thanks to a shot, or two, in the arm of a Covid-19
vaccine, many of us now feel safe using our arms to clasp, cradle and cuddle
one another. No longer will expressions like “bear hug,” “bro hug” and “group
hug” seem like quaint artifacts of a pre-pandemic world. Calendar note: January
21st is National Hugging Day; might as well start gearing up now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Humans have been hugging since the 1560s—actually, far
longer than that, but that’s when the meaning of wrapping your arms around
someone became wrapped around the word <i>hug.</i> In Old Norse, people engaged
in <i>hugga,</i> or comforting. The word evolved from <i>hugr</i>, which meant
courage, and which is worth pondering. Old English weighed in with <i>hogian, </i>to
care for.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The French, who like to linger over lunches and other
pleasing things, stretched the pleasure of hug to the four-syllable <i>embracier</i>
in Old French. Yes, that would be our modern “embrace.” The “brace” reaches
back to the French, Latin and Greek words for arm, for the obvious reasons.
Spanish makes it clear: <i>el brazo</i> is an arm; <i>el abrazo</i> is a hug.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Hug” has its own brand of onomatopoeia. If you can
sigh, you’re halfway to saying it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And so we sigh—with relief, with unrestrained emotion,
with no longer having to long to hug. We’re living high on the hug, and loving
it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><p></p>mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-71202965274996313802021-01-24T16:13:00.005-05:002021-01-24T16:15:38.059-05:00<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRHHn7zaFCaTkCpDbd2Jwc48ObrTJxCFJkBYqYXgeyHgVEczRs_nwOtT0xDMxoiS76n23at4-x47j5nS69PiQymwjOwsNZeKVQ9m3xuQm7fDgBY7RRWWagt9lxiZPWUBsvIUv4y2ziq5P/s2048/Hanging_decoration_made_out_of_discarded_Dictionary_of_Old_English_research_materials%252C_in_the_Dictionary_of_Old_English_office+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRHHn7zaFCaTkCpDbd2Jwc48ObrTJxCFJkBYqYXgeyHgVEczRs_nwOtT0xDMxoiS76n23at4-x47j5nS69PiQymwjOwsNZeKVQ9m3xuQm7fDgBY7RRWWagt9lxiZPWUBsvIUv4y2ziq5P/w312-h240/Hanging_decoration_made_out_of_discarded_Dictionary_of_Old_English_research_materials%252C_in_the_Dictionary_of_Old_English_office+%25281%2529.jpg" width="312" /></a></b></div><b> </b><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: large;">‘Civil’ comes back in flower</span><o:p style="font-size: 14pt;"></o:p></span></b></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Among its
many other triumphs, Amanda Gorman’s inaugural poem was a disarming, uplifting
reminder that in our words lie powerful incubators of our deeds. One such word
that her poem summoned for me was “civil.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Some of
the strongest buttresses of our democracy are bound up in that word. Civil
discourse. Civil liberties. Civil society. Civil rights.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Of or
relating to citizens,” Merriam-Webster tells us about the word, presenting its
first meaning. The Romans gave it to us in the form of <i>civilis, </i>deriving
from <i>civis, </i>or citizen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For the
Romans, so strongly was the idea of <i>civis</i> connected to one’s identity
that to utter Cicero’s pronouncement of <i>Civis Romanus sum—</i>“I am a Roman citizen”—was to immediately command respect. It’s no accident that some
of this country’s foundations as a republic trace back to the ideas and ideals
of Cicero. Even though not in Rome, Americans
have been known to do as some of those ancient Romans did when it comes to government.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From <i>civis
</i>to <i>civilis</i> is just a few short steps, as <i>civilis </i>speaks to
public life and the civic order: both the rights and the duties of a citizenry.
Walk with that concept a little farther and it’s not long before you arrive at
the familiar, everyday meaning of civil: polite.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Civil
discourse is how democracy works best because it means we listen, politely,
before deciding a course of action. So to once again practice civility is more than a nice
gesture, the kind thing to do. It’s also to be an American citizen. It’s our
democratic way to both command respect, and show it.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-87201368086276179792020-03-22T11:06:00.000-04:002020-03-22T11:06:13.781-04:00A comforting phrase pandemics can’t touch: ‘like a balm’<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibB62VaZOGNAXrTO4DVcgg_UxDWrpz3feF3zsXyhhvIebS0iPZCqNN6eFmYbKKqqlCZjp_Mqdejzz92J80BVA5Eh2QnExU1jpCle8h6bTmm4gZaRUfAyh0iN8r9flZYY6Gpkm2KurkFbsL/s1600/Andrea%2527s+spring+daffodils+by+her+artist+friend..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1345" data-original-width="1498" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibB62VaZOGNAXrTO4DVcgg_UxDWrpz3feF3zsXyhhvIebS0iPZCqNN6eFmYbKKqqlCZjp_Mqdejzz92J80BVA5Eh2QnExU1jpCle8h6bTmm4gZaRUfAyh0iN8r9flZYY6Gpkm2KurkFbsL/s320/Andrea%2527s+spring+daffodils+by+her+artist+friend..jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When this is over, we will emerge
changed in many ways, and our language will not be immune. Perhaps “pre-pan”
and “post-pan” will enter the lexicon. Or “pre-covid” and “post-covid.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Already we have additions to
Merriam-Webster, “social distancing” and “self-quarantine” among them. But the
terms, though necessary, do little to console.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So let’s dig into that vast trove
of English words and phrases and find something comforting we can use right now.
One that sounds right to me is <b><i>like a balm</i></b><i>. “Balm?” </i>you’re
probably thinking. “<i>Isn’t that something you rub on your lips?”</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, yes. It’s any healing
ointment, actually, and usually fragrant. Something soothing, in other words.
It harks back to the Latin <i>balsamum</i>, which gave us the aromatic <i>balsam.</i>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Why <i>balm </i>works<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The beauty of <i>balm</i> is that
it’s linked to the physical, to touch. And reassuring touches are what we crave
right now, as we don’t hug, huddle, gather or otherwise affirm one another’s
physical presence. <i>Solace</i> is soothing, too, as it seeks to console us,
but not in a physical sense.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Like a balm</span></i><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> floated into my consciousness recently as I read
one of the emails from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BooksandBooks" target="_blank">Books & Books</a>.</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Owner Mitchell Kaplan and his dedicated team have taken their physical spaces—the
various Books & Books venues in Miami—and turned them into a devoted
community of readers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">At the moment, those physical
spaces are closed. But the messages that Books & Books is sending customers
are like a balm. Here’s part of the one I received on Friday…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">None
of us knows what the future will bring, but we know we have a shared community
that is planning to emerge from these dark times into a brighter day. Stay calm
and read on. We will meet in that land that readers inhabit. It's a safe space,
a life-giving space, a space unlike any other. We all know it and now take
shelter there -- together. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Beautiful, don’t you think?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And there are other things that act
like a balm right now. One, for me, was reconnecting with a friend from so long
ago it seems like yesterday. Another has been the emails and texts and phone
calls <i>(phone calls!)</i> checking in with relatives and friends and
colleagues. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The lovely watercolor you see here
is by <a href="https://www.hopscotchart.com/" target="_blank">Renee Reese. </a></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She shared it with her friend Andrea, a dear
friend who shared it with me. The daffodils offer solace. The fact that my friend
took the time to virtually share them with me is like a balm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The philosopher Joseph Campbell encouraged
us to follow our bliss. That may be too distant at this particular moment. But I
hope you’re finding those special, small gestures and kindnesses right now that
act like a balm.</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-67827008559973806622019-12-30T09:50:00.000-05:002019-12-30T09:50:31.811-05:00Perhaps the oddest New Year’s resolution yet: give cursive a(nother) chance<br />
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/12/17/nyregion/cursive-writing-nj.html">story</a>
in the New York Times a few weeks ago is any indication, cursive writing might just
be making a comeback, modest though it may be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Contrary to what those who
shun, eschew, lament, rail against, and run from cursive might think, the word
does <i>not</i> derive from “curse.” But the running from is actually close. “Cursive”
is from the Latin <i>currere, </i>to run. Letters in cursive writing flow, or
run, together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I think we should
seriously consider a cursive revival. I say this even though my own cursive
writing is cacographic—a fancy way of saying borderline illegible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s not because I
think that people will always have to sign their name the way we do now; I doubt that we will. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;">It’s because cursive can be a
potent tool when you're seeking transparency. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For a good example, just read Lincoln.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The world will little
note, nor long remember what we say here,” intoned President Abraham Lincoln at
the memorial service for Union soldiers on November 19, 1863, “but it can never
forget what they did here.</span>”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lincoln was right on the
second point but wrong on the first. We do, indeed, remember what Lincoln said
at Gettysburg. In fact, the Gettysburg Address is set in stone on one wall of
the Lincoln Memorial.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But is that really what he
said that day?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The reporters who were
there didn’t get it right. It’s not
that Lincoln talked fast, but he talked short: a mere 270-odd words in under
three minutes. Nobody was expecting <i>that</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But while we may not know verbatim what Lincoln said, we do know what he wrote in his own hand at various
times, and for different reasons. Five extant versions of the Gettysburg
Address demonstrate Lincoln’s neat, highly legible cursive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPegVPVdMqFjW9Kxx7aeTftv-y9AhwHwx38zrE1VUQQEZ2HSd7J-KaN3WOWP_B73J9hrFLlRNANKrPlTh9QJw3SWZeGP4H1bNG6bNF4-yC58cXjlCyWT7-0Ka_CctECSDgOG9JA_Nnx7p/s1600/Mim%2527s+blog+Lincoln+Gettysburg+handwritten+page.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1031" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPegVPVdMqFjW9Kxx7aeTftv-y9AhwHwx38zrE1VUQQEZ2HSd7J-KaN3WOWP_B73J9hrFLlRNANKrPlTh9QJw3SWZeGP4H1bNG6bNF4-yC58cXjlCyWT7-0Ka_CctECSDgOG9JA_Nnx7p/s320/Mim%2527s+blog+Lincoln+Gettysburg+handwritten+page.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Therein lies my argument for
why we should learn how to write cursive: so we will know how to read it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In cursive courses
truth<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Source documents like Lincoln’s
five versions of the Gettysburg Address allow us to see what Lincoln really
wrote, and by extension, what he was thinking at the time. It’s the same with
Jefferson and the draft of the Declaration of Independence that contains the
80-plus edits of John Adams and Benjamin Franklin. </span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And with JFK, whose determination to put Americans on the moon was in his mind well before his galvanzing, "We choose to go the moon" speech at Rice University in 1962. In gathering his thoughts for topics for his 1961 Inaugural Address, the first word Kennedy scrawled on the front of an envelope was "space."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;">So let’s resolve this year
to keep cursive alive as a way to more fully partake of our country's past. The ability to literally read our history through the hands of some of those who made it means we better understand what they were seeking. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 13pt;">That kind of truth without filter is a powerful tool to possess. Let's run with it.</span></div>
<br />mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-58223364423795202572018-05-28T10:55:00.000-04:002018-05-28T12:52:37.733-04:00The word is bereft: remembering Peter Mayer<br />
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In the space of just a few weeks this spring, the world of
readers lost three of the great ones—Tom Wolfe, Philip Roth, and<a href="http://www.overlookpress.com/in-memory" target="_blank"> Peter Mayer</a>, a
publisher unlike any other who passed away earlier this month at the age of 82. Peter's passing has left me feeling bereft. I had always considered him one of The Immortals.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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If Peter’s name is unfamiliar, here’s my favorite way to
introduce him: the first time I met Peter, I served him a slew of
eighteenth-century insults…and he loved them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At the time I had recently and somewhat improbably licensed
an (abridged) edition of Samuel Johnson’s 1755 dictionary to George Gibson,
then the owner of Walker Publishing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You
need to meet Peter Mayer,</i> George advised. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He will have ideas for you.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
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I needed some. I was the editor of a small
specialty-publishing imprint that was a sideline business to a larger company
in Florida. I was tasked with publishing books that would not be sold anywhere else but would still sell.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Put another way: I was nobody in particular in the
publishing world, and I was going to meet someone who was legendary.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At that point Peter was in the last chapter of his
extraordinary publishing career, after his time as CEO of Penguin in Britain,
and after he had published Salman Rushdie’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Satanic
Verses</i> despite the death threats. Peter was by then running Overlook Press
out of his very-downtown Manhattan office, whose squeaky wood floors and lively
hum signaled to visitors that this was no corporate bland land of publishing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Peter's preposterous idea</b></div>
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Peter and I met at the London Book Fair, in 2003. I wanted
to take him something for our first meeting, but what? A book was superfluous.
As a line extension to the Johnson dictionary, we had created a set of magnets that
each sported one of the more colorful insults from the book—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">slubberdegullion, fopdoodle,</i> and the
like. So I took Peter a tin of Samuel Johnson’s insults.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And that was how our friendship began. The consummately
shrewd Peter immediately grasped what I was trying to do with this small
imprint and, just as George promised, had an idea. He would reprise some of the
more expensive, out-of-print books he had published in years past, and we would
publish new versions of them as high-end, limited-edition books.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The only way I could successfully sell them, though, was if
I sold them exclusively, not jointly with Overlook. For anyone else, this would
have been a deal breaker. For Peter, it was barely a shrug. He would wait until I’d sold through my stock and then bring
out a slightly different version for Overlook.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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The word bubbling up in the head of any publisher reading
this is most likely: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">preposterous.</i>
Who does this? Who sits on inventory until somebody else sells through their
stock?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>The word is <i>generosity</i></b></div>
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I never did fully understand why Peter was so uncommonly
generous to me. He was a savvy businessperson, evident in his commanding
presence. He punctuated it with a voice that was unmistakable—a
Cary-Grant-on-steroids voice, but with more of a New York accent, his home for
most of his life (although he was born in England). It was a voice that spoke
of keen intelligence, to say nothing of experience.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Most of all, Peter really didn’t need this idea of his for
his own imprint.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But he was of his own era and mind, a book man who believed
in the near-alchemistic powers of books. Even more—and more simply—Peter was
kind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He and I published some stunning books together: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jerusalem, The Saga of the Holy City; The Grimani
Breviary; The Sarajevo Haggadah. </i>I confess that when Peter proposed the
last one to me, I didn’t know what a Haggadah was. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aren’t you Jewish?</i> he said incredulously. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Half-Lebanese</i>, I assured him. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It was only the second time I knew Peter to be (momentarily)
nonplussed. The first was when I told him, between tears, that I could never
repay him for what he’d done for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The last book we published together was a collection of
Redouté’s famous flower paintings. We produced it as an “unbound book,” an idea
that I suggested and Peter enthusiastically endorsed. If anyone actually beams
with pride anymore, I did when Peter said he liked the idea.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There was another, bigger project afterwards that we planned
to collaborate on. But then the sideline-business imprint got sidelined. I wrote Peter to let him know. He immediately wrote me back, distraught. When
he called me shortly after that, I could hear the concern in his voice. I was
to come see him anyway, when I came to New York. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I never got that chance. But Peter had given me a much
larger chance—the opportunity to do, at least for a short time, the work I
loved best. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I was a small, insignificant speck in a world where he was a
giant. There was really no reason for him to help me the way he did. But that
was the way Peter Mayer lived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-83848621197614517062017-11-25T12:22:00.003-05:002017-11-25T12:22:54.673-05:00When books become sanctuary<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Two remarkable events for readers and word lovers occurred
back to back just a few days ago—the <a href="http://www.nationalbook.org/nba2017.html#.WhihwVWnGM8">National Book
Awards</a> dinner and the <a href="https://www.miamibookfair.com/">Miami Book
Fair</a>. The Book Awards’ elegant function was black tie. The Book Fair’s
ebullient weekend street fair was awash in tank tops. Different as they were,
both reminded me that in books, we find not just knowledge and ideas and the
power to transport. Not only wisdom and solace. But also, sanctuary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sanctuary: from the Latin <i><b><span style="color: purple;">sanctus</span>.</b> </i>A holy place, a sacred place. A place that offers asylum
and immunity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A refuge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For those of us who feel whipsawed by the often dystopian
(dystrumpian?) world we’ve inhabited this past year, both these events offered
a reassurance that yes, things are not at all as they should be, but there are
people who can give voice to this in ways that just might give hope to us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Annie Proulx, in her acceptance speech for the National Book
Foundation’s lifetime achievement award, railed against the “Kafkaesque time”
we lived in. But she also said this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #111111;"><i>“Somehow the
old discredited values and longings persist. We still have tender feelings for
such outmoded notions as truth, respect for others, personal honor, justice,
equitable sharing.”</i></span></span></blockquote>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The word of the
weekend<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Perhaps it was just the happenstance of the sessions I chose
to attend at the Miami Book Fair (there are hundreds), but even so—the word of
the weekend seemed to be empathy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What we lack is empathy for real people,” <a href="http://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Bobby-Kennedy/Chris-Matthews/9781501111860">Chris
Matthews</a> told his audience. <a href="https://us.macmillan.com/onenationaftertrump/normanjornstein/9781250164056/">Norman
Ornstein</a> alluded to the need for it when he reminded his audience that true
patriotism is “not negative nationalism.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/231506/lincoln-in-the-bardo-by-george-saunders/9780812995343/">George
Saunders,</a> who also spoke of empathy, cautioned that “the enemy right now is
despair.” To George Saunders belongs the prize-winning book, <i>Lincoln in the Bardo. </i>The term “bardo”
draws on the Buddhist concept of a transitional state, which perhaps inspired
this observation from the author: “I’m convinced our country is on the brink of
a beautiful breakthrough.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Please oh please, George, be right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Joe Biden joined in…and
Charles Dickens, too<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To George Saunders also belonged the conversation with
former Vice President <a href="https://us.macmillan.com/promisemedad/joebiden/9781250171672/">Joe Biden</a><u>.</u>
“You learn empathy,” the Vice President said, talking about his childhood. From
his mother he learned this: “You’re defined by your courage and redeemed by
your loyalty.” And from Joe Biden, we in the audience learned this: “Silence is
complicity.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Book Fair audiences also got a behind-the-scenes look at the
new film, <a href="https://bleeckerstreetmedia.com/themanwhoinventedchristmas">The
Man Who Invented Christmas</a><i>.</i> It’s
based on <a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/171661/the-man-who-invented-christmas-by-les-standiford/">Les
Standiford’s</a><i><u> </u></i>book, which
found a book-to-film champion in Mitchell Kaplan. Mitchell is the impresario behind the 33-year-strong
Miami Book Fair, along with Dr. Eduardo Padrón, the president of Miami Dade College.
He is also the owner of <a href="http://booksandbooks.com/">Books & Books</a>,
and now a film producer as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>The Man Who Invented
Christmas</i> is its own backstory, of how Charles Dickens came to write <i>A Christmas Carol. </i> Lots of us at the fair “got pinned” with one
of the big campaign-style buttons promoting the film. It featured a Dickens
quote…but not the Tiny Tim one that would have been too easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Instead, it was in keeping with the E-word: </span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>“No one is
useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another.” </i></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Or who offers sanctuary to mind and spirit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the root of “sanctuary” is also a verb, <i><span style="color: purple;"><b>sancīre</b></span>:</i> to hallow. These two sacrosanct
events for readers reminded me in the most uplifting of ways that one thing we
can do is hallow our books. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But let’s give the last word to Annie Proulx, and her
acceptance speech.</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> “<em><span style="color: #111111;">The happy
ending still beckons,” she told us, “and it is in hope of grasping it that we
go on.”</span></em></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-33027322066941164032016-06-19T12:25:00.001-04:002016-06-19T12:25:57.061-04:00For those of us who can’t say “Happy Father’s Day” today<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well,
of course we can say it to <i>someone</i> we
know. I can say it to Jeff and Mike and new-dad Thomas, and to plenty of other
men who wear the mantle of fatherhood with their own kind of tenderness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But
for those of us whose own fathers are no longer with us, Father’s Day is one
that reminds us of what the word <i>bereft</i>
means. It’s been 11 years for me—since I could last extend that greeting, in
person, to the man who was my father. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I
consider myself lucky, though, that five years ago I was given the chance to
write an essay about a meaningful object in my life for the book <i>Holding Dear: The Value of the Real.</i> I
chose an object that was my father’s. Here is what I wrote:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
Reliquary Cap<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is
a word I have long admired. <i>Reliquary.</i>
There is a fullness to it, a smoothness, like water gliding, sliding, over
stone. Just enough syllables to slow you for a moment, a split-second pause to
reflect and remember. It is a word that helps you observe the memories of what
it holds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ever
since work on this book began, I have asked myself what, should someone ask, my
object of reflection/attention/affection would be. A pencil, perhaps, because I
still compose the first words on paper. A white stone from one of the outer
beaches that my husband and I head to, Mecca-style, early of a Cape Cod morning
nearly every summer. The books I’ve had the joy of working on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But
these are objects of the present, things that speak of what’s possible, what
will still be here tomorrow (or so one prefers to think). I realize that my
object hold no such possibility. Just memories. A reliquary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It
is the corduroy cap that my father wore most days to work. When he came home I
would often take it from him and hang it on the three-pronged hook in the room
just off the kitchen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Country
Gentleman” is the label sewn inside. The gentleman part is right but the
“country” is laughable. My father was a city boy, Boston-born and –bred, a
product of Boston Latin and B.U., the immigrant kid who was perfectly at home
walking the streets of the South End at three o’clock in the morning. He ended
up in a small town in western New York where you never knew what kind of creature
(a squirrel! a chipmunk!) might jump out at you at three o’clock in the
afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He
doted on his daughters and I doted right back. I adored him for all the reasons
girls love their fathers. But I also admired him, especially because I worked
for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My
father wore two hats: head of the school of business at St. Bonaventure
University, and owner of an accounting practice. I worked for him in the
latter, starting in junior high. I learned how to prepare financial statements
and tax returns from him. I also learned that you never talked about a client
outside of the office and that a deadline really was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In
later years, as I wised up a little, I appreciated how extraordinarily smart my
father was—far more conceptual and analytical (and shrewd) than I could ever
be. Much more logical, and yet so empathetic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We
were close. After he’d retired from Bona’s but still had his practice, I took
to calling him at the office every week, from my home office in Florida. We
would just chat. It was usually a Tuesday when I called. Our own <i>Tuesdays with Morrie.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When
he died, he was 91 and still doing tax returns and what did it matter that I
knew it was his time, I was crushed. I helped my mother close his office, and I
didn’t mind going through the files but the shoes were just too painful. He
kept a pair there that he could slide into when he took off his winter boots.
Now they looked forlorn and vulnerable. Empty. I couldn’t bear to look at them
and still don’t remember what we did with them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But
his cap was there at my parents’ house, hanging on the three-pronged hook, and
I told my mother I wanted it. I’ll have it dry cleaned for you, she said. No, I
replied. I want it just as it is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because
if I buried my face in the lining of it, beyond the Country Gentleman label, I could
smell wisdom and love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My
father’s cap now hangs on a single hook in my house, on the side of a bookcase
I face when I’m sitting in the large green chair, composing with my pencil.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Can
I fully articulate why this object is the one that is most meaningful to me?
No. But that’s the beauty of reliquary. It’s a word that holds mystery.</span><span style="font-family: Palatino Linotype, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It
took me five years after my father’s death before I could write that. I still
don’t feel that I’ve done him justice. But I know that I miss him, not just on
Father’s Day but on most days. Maybe that’s how we truly honor our fathers. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-46116010944365335142016-03-21T14:33:00.000-04:002016-03-21T14:45:43.947-04:00Cuba, Obama, and Lincoln's Gettysburg Address<div class="MsoNormal">
Whatever gifts President Obama may be bringing to his hosts
in Cuba this week, it’s pretty certain that he’s not giving them one of the
handwritten copies of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. And yet, in a roundabout way,
America has Cuba to thank for it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9f0KMpt9rrOTzjTHtmJFEx5awQBhApT9otHz2A3ayRmvQvQEkCEs_7HoVD4BIhbojqU8bg6NYwLmqQSZeIRXFkyFmQR8UzessHlt7Meqi_18I7Fny2oSdoefSOiDcauOfMlT5AMRyi_x/s1600/Lincoln+Bliss+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9f0KMpt9rrOTzjTHtmJFEx5awQBhApT9otHz2A3ayRmvQvQEkCEs_7HoVD4BIhbojqU8bg6NYwLmqQSZeIRXFkyFmQR8UzessHlt7Meqi_18I7Fny2oSdoefSOiDcauOfMlT5AMRyi_x/s320/Lincoln+Bliss+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lincoln wrote five copies of the Gettysburg Address that we
know of, and not all of them before the dedication ceremony at Gettysburg on
November 19, 1863. In fact, the last one that Lincoln wrote was a kind of
do-over, in March 1864. A Colonel Alexander Bliss was collecting manuscripts
for a facsimile volume of <i>Autograph
Leaves of Our Country’s Authors</i> and wanted the Gettysburg Address to be
among them. But alas, the first version Lincoln sent was missing a signature
and a heading, among other elements, so would he mind penning another?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ever-patient president obliged (proceeds from the book
were going to a charitable organization to help the Union soldiers). Not only
did he sign it but dated it, as well. This one made the cut for Bliss’s book.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bliss’s descendants sold Lincoln’s original at auction in
New York City, in 1949. A former Ambassador to the United States purchased it.
His name was Oscar B. Cintas, and he was a businessman from Havana, Cuba. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When
he died, he willed that the copy become the property of the people of the
United States. The aptly named Bliss Copy of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address now
resides in the Lincoln Room of the White House.<o:p></o:p></div>
mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-35071935639759731142015-11-24T11:10:00.000-05:002015-11-24T11:10:37.910-05:00Bless Jon Meacham’s Heart<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/112696/destiny-and-power-by-jon-meacham/9781400067657/" target="_blank">Jon Meacham </a>was relaying an amusing anecdote to the overflow
crowd that had come to hear him speak at the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MiamiBookFair/" target="_blank">Miami Book Fair</a> last weekend. He
concluded it with, “Or as we would say in the South, bless her heart.” The
story had been a warm-up to something larger: his discussion on his new book about
George Herbert Walker Bush. That’s what the audience had come for. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And something larger still.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few holdouts who have to be from out of town still do a
bit of a head snap when they hear “Miami” and “book” in the same breath, bless
their hearts. But readers know otherwise. Mitchell Kaplan and Eduardo Padrón,
the two visionaries behind the fair—Mitchell the impresario of <a href="http://www.booksandbooks.com/" target="_blank">Books &Books</a>, Eduardo Padrón the president of <a href="http://www.mdc.edu/main/" target="_blank">Miami Dade College</a>—have been
orchestrating this better-than-Woodstock-for-readers event for 32 years now.
Each year, it grows larger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bring 600 authors together for two days, and in any given
hour there are as many as 18 concurrent sessions taking place. O, the word
choose. And oh, the many books. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Have Half”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so if you are a reader, you come for the books and the
talks. But you come, too, for the moments of transformation, the ones you put
your own stamp on—the moments when a stillness comes over you as the words of
the author, and sometimes those of the audience, go beyond intellect to a
deeper, larger place. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You could feel it as Jon Meacham spoke—of a former president
who, as a youngster, was nicknamed “Have Half” because of his empathy. Of a
father whose heart broke when his young daughter died. Of an imperfect leader
who always knew that the office was larger than the person holding it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As Jon spoke, you could all but feel the audience, many of
whom would never describe themselves as Republicans, succumb to the larger
story that Jon was telling. The one that went beyond passing judgment and that
instead spoke to tolerance, and civic duty, and compassion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sharecroppers and
sinners<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was much the same with <a href="http://www.topshelfcomix.com/catalog/march-book-two/896" target="_blank">Congressman John Lewis</a>. He spoke
with the kinetic power of a preacher and the quietude of one who has witnessed both
compassion and its flip side. He described the five-dollar suit he bought when
he joined the Civil Rights movement (and still has). <i>Sharecropper</i>: that is what his father was. The word startled with
its many implications, and his story took us deeper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When <a href="http://books.simonandschuster.com/Gods-Bankers/Gerald-Posner/9781416576570" target="_blank">Gerald Posner </a>relayed the many sins of the Vatican
bank, there was neither malice nor triumph in his voice. Instead, there was
hope that on some level, there could be redemption.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Darkness visible</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.stacyschiff.com/the-witches-salem-1692.html" target="_blank">Stacy Schiff</a> spoke in her elegant way of how absolute the
darkness was in Salem in 1692, solid and terrifying and fraught with dire
consequence. That same darkness, <a href="http://www.antonybeevor.com/" target="_blank">Antony Beevor</a> would tell us, descended upon
the soldiers who fought in the frozen forest during the Battle of the Bulge in
1944.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And it is darkness that clings to many soldiers of any war,
in the form of PTSD. In one of the most emotion-charged events of the fair, the
actors Paul Giamatti and David Strathairn performed readings from <a href="http://www.outsidethewirellc.com/projects/theater-of-war/overview" target="_blank">Sophocles,</a>
the ancient Greek tragedian—searing, agonizing, gut-wrenching readings—the kind
that can reach into that deeper place where suffering lies and become a way to
climb out of the darkness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The Rabbi’s thanks<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.spiritualityandpractice.com/explorations/teachers/view/71" target="_blank">Rabbi Harold Kushner</a> also invoked the ancient Greeks in his
talk. Among the audience members who went to the microphone after his presentation was
a woman who didn’t have a question, only a message.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She told the Rabbi how, years earlier when her young child
had died, his books had been her single salvation. She never thought she would
get a chance to thank him. But now here, in this room, she could.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Only a few stalwarts managed to hold back tears. The rest of
us didn’t really care that we couldn’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>“Proofreading Woman”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not every moment at the book fair, of course, is so tearful.
There was the smile of sheer joy that first-time author <a href="http://rebeccaregobarry.com/" target="_blank">Rebecca Rego Barry</a> had
when for the first time she set eyes, and hands, on her book—it had come
directly from the printer to the fair at the last possible moment. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then there is the catharsis known as the <a href="http://www.rockbottomremainders.com/" target="_blank">Rock Bottom Remainders</a>,
the band of writers—as in musical band—where Dave Barry, Amy Tan, Mitch Albom
and other authors let loose with exuberant, raucous abandon. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where else can you hear the song “Proofreading Woman”? And
with the immortal lyric, “She never says ‘between you and I’.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Okay, so you had to be there. But that is, in fact, the
point. We lovers of books come to the Miami Book Fair to be among fellow
pilgrims, to seek and bear witness to the larger stories, to recognize
ourselves in each other, and to dwell, however fleetingly, in that deeper
place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bless our hearts. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-70182396692530681812013-10-26T14:46:00.000-04:002013-10-26T14:46:10.740-04:00Are you a true bi-tech-tual?<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are those who will tell you that “bitechtual” means
one who uses both Android and Apple products (I’m one). But I think we logophiles
can do better when it comes to using and defining this playful word. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Think of bilingual and bicoastal: they both assume a
pronounced division between a commonality. For bilingual, it’s two different
languages; for bicoastal, two different coasts. Has anyone ever confused Urdu
for English, or the Pacific for the Atlantic? </div>
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So let’s give “bitechtual” the same clean dichotomy: a
pronounced division between high technology and low, fast tech and slow,
digital and old-fashioned. When we define it this way, that makes a lot more of
us bitechtual.</div>
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I keystroked this blog on a desktop, but first I wrote it on
paper. I count on the Breaking News alerts from the New York Times that come
through on my smartphone and tablet, but I still savor the rustle and fold of
the Sunday paper version. My husband and I dip into different sections, folding
them back and swapping them out as the Sunday afternoon progresses, sharing the
singular act of reading in a way that only the actual newsprint allows. (Then
we recycle it.)</div>
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My young friend Sofia (who is bilingual) watches with rapt
attention as her older sister swipes across images of antelopes on the iPad.
But her little three-year-old hands also reach eagerly for the Beatrix Potter
books on my bookshelf.</div>
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I fact-check through Google any number of times through the
day. It’s fast, efficient and, provided you pull from reputable sources,
accurate. But these are discrete and often disparate items I’m checking. There
is still something to be said for seeing forest as well as trees, so please don’t
try to take away my print edition of <i>Word
Menu</i> and the context it provides. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Being bitechtual in this way lets us adapt technologies to
the circumstances. Despite the dichotomy between paper and pixel, “bitechtual”
as we’ve now defined it carries the suggestion of coexistence as well. Even
though my mother had to remind me the other day to check my old and tattered
address book for the number that wasn’t programmed into my phone, I think I
will always be bitechtual. </div>
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<o:p> </o:p>With one exception.</div>
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I’ve realized that, when it comes to geography and directions,
I am utterly <b>a-techtual</b>. It’s almost as if the GPS Lady <i>knows</i> I can’t read a paper map, so she feels free to send me off
anywhere but where I wanted to be. Well, there’s always the sun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-4434158068590079602012-11-01T10:32:00.000-04:002012-11-01T10:34:41.456-04:00So long to the skeuomorph? (Apple takes a bite)The story in today’s New York Times (a front page story at that, in the Business section) that Apple may do away with skeuomorphs should prompt word lovers to take quick action. <br />
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Before skeuomorphs disappear, and with them the word, let’s have a last fond look at this linguistic concoction of the Greeks. This mouthful of a word is a combination of the Greek <em>skeuos</em> (vessel or implement) and<em> morph</em> (form). In essence, a skeuomorph uses visual or aural cues from an earlier object to help define a newer object.<br />
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An icon of an analog alarm clock signals to us that this is the clock or timer function on our digital appliance. The image of the alarm clock is the skeuomorph for the digital timer.<br />
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Skeuomorphs are not just pictures. They’re also sounds and movements. Click! goes the digital camera, brrringg goes the smartphone. The “page” turns in an electronic “book.” <br />
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Skeuomorphs have helped familiar objects of old make the new look familiar. Given a physical form, the virtual seem less virtual.<br />
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But such skeuomorphs may well vanish from Apple products—the legal pad icon for the iPad’s notes app; the wooden bookshelf on which e-books are displayed.<br />
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Which brings up this skeuomorphic question (I’m trying to get the most out of this word while I still know how to spell it): if the graphic trappings used to symbolize an e-book disappear, should an e-book even be called a “book” anymore?<br />
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Throughout bookdom’s history, certain words have signaled biblio events. <em>Scroll. Tablet</em> (of the kind that Julius Caesar popularized). <em>Incunabula. Codex</em>. Perhaps book should be reserved for those three-dimensional objects made of paper and, for a good part of their existence, pre-bound by the printer or publisher. <br />
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What we read electronically, then, is no longer an e-book. It’s an e-------[to be figured out].<br />
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One more thing: the very icon that symbolizes Apple is itself skeuomorphic. It’s that object we know to be a fruit and that makes a crunching sound when we take a bite out of it. Will the apple in Apple vanish as well?<br />
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Something to chew on—skeuomorphically, that is.<br />
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<br />mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-44660002007913814032011-08-14T11:35:00.003-04:002011-08-14T11:59:28.443-04:00The Florida Congresswoman is all cattle
<br />Debbie Wasserman Schultz, the Congresswoman from Florida’s 20th District, was talking on one of the news shows last week about some of the goings-on in Washington. For an idea being proposed that she did not agree with, she pronounced that “that dog will not hunt.” A few seconds later, she made a reference to someone being “all hat and no cattle.”
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<br />For a nanosecond or two, I thought that she must have just run out and bought my new book, <em>Wicked Good Words</em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wicked-Good-Words-Johnnycakes-Regionalisms/dp/0399536760/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1313251128&sr=1-3">http://www.amazon.com/Wicked-Good-Words-Johnnycakes-Regionalisms/dp/0399536760/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1313251128&sr=1-3</a> . It’s a collection of America’s regionalisms—those things we say that signal we’re from here and not there. Then I got a grip and realized that the Congresswoman was simply well attuned to the expressions that Floridians—some of them, at least—use.
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<br />“<strong>That dog will not hunt</strong>,” or as it’s more commonly heard, “<strong>that dog won’t hunt</strong>,” is an expression familiar to many Southerners. (Yes, even in South Florida, Congresswoman Wasserman Schultz’s district, you can still find some Southerners among the many Northerners like me who have come here.) Folks in the Ozarks were among the first to use this expression as a way of saying “that won’t work,” but saying it more colorfully.
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<br />You’ll also hear the inverse, “<strong>that dog’ll hunt</strong>,” although not as frequently. (And these days, almost never when it comes to goings-on in Washington.)
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<br />“<strong>All hat and no cattle</strong>” is how many in the southern part of the country say that someone is full of hot air, or doesn’t follow through: an imposter. Just because you can put on a cowboy hat doesn’t mean you know to rustle cattle.
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<br />Okay, you may be thinking, makes sense for Texas. But Florida? Yep. Florida does, indeed, have some cattle ranches. Go figure.
<br />mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-79916448327706258442009-10-16T09:45:00.001-04:002009-10-16T09:48:04.372-04:00The new watchword for Wal-Mart: strafe“Wal-Mart Strafes Amazon in Book War” blares the page one headline in today’s Wall Street Journal. “Strafe” would have sent me running for cover, had I known its meaning. Instead it sent me scurrying to the dictionary.<br /><br />As it turns out, <em>strafe</em> has a very specific—and rather lengthy—meaning. To quote American Heritage: “To attack (ground troops, for example) with a machine gun or cannon from a low-flying aircraft.” Like <em>trench coat, strafe </em>is a vestige of World War I. It’s from the German <em>strafen</em>, to punish, which is what Germany wanted to do to England at the time.<br /><br />That war is over. Now it seems Wal-Mart and Amazon will engage in their own punishing campaign to see who can go lower on the price of a book. (Mainly it’s authors who will get punished.) <br /><br /><em>Strafe</em> is what I call a one-syllable wonder: one of those economical words in our language that says in one sound what might otherwise take a sentence to explain. Add it to your arsenal of words that pack a powerful punch. And if someone threatens to strafe you, take cover.mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-56456384752435466512009-10-02T12:26:00.004-04:002009-10-02T12:32:57.633-04:00At the Library of Congress, some words for the CapitolLast week I went to the Library of Congress on business—although I don’t think it’s possible to be in the take-your-breath-away-beauty of the Jefferson Building of the Library and feel like it’s hard work.<br /><br />I had never been to America’s library before, so I didn’t realize that the Library is literally across the street from the U.S. Capitol building. The two are now connected through an underground tunnel. They also share an icon in their lofty treatments of Minerva. Atop the Capitol building, she fulfills her role as goddess of might in war. Inside the Library, she assumes her equal role as goddess of wisdom.<br /><br />But what really joins these two buildings are the books—not because of what they are but because of what they represent. This is, after all, the library that Thomas Jefferson established for members of Congress, even though it is open to all (that’s democracy for you).<br /><br /><strong>Government grounded in words</strong><br /><br />As Librarian of Congress James Billington reminded guests at the reception for this year’s National Book Festival, our country, more than most, is built on a foundation of governance that’s grounded in the written word. How fitting, then, that everywhere you turn in the Jefferson Building, there is writing on the walls. They are the words of great thinkers through the centuries—Bacon, Virgil, Cicero, Milton, Shakespeare and a host of others.<br /><br />The inscriptions carry an apostolic quality, as well they should. The Library of Congress is America’s secular cathedral. It represents not simply books but learning, and not only learning but knowledge, and not just knowledge but, when we as a nation play our heritage cards right, civil comportment.<br /><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong><em>“Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words.”<br /></em></strong></span><br />The words are Emerson’s, and they are among the hundreds that capture this transcendent power of the possible.<br /><br />More than the tunnel that connects them, more than the domes that define them, even more than Minerva, the immutable bond between Library and Congress rests with the words. In the most hopeful and uplifting of ways, the writing of American possibility is on the walls at the Library of Congress. Let's hope that members of Congress visit often.mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-7667550333879513912009-07-04T13:16:00.000-04:002009-07-04T13:18:47.672-04:00Declare your independence today from dumbed-down wordsJust about 233 years ago today, a small band of revolutionary thinkers agonized over whether to use <em>in</em>alienable or <em>un</em>alienable in the declaration of independence they were crafting.<br /><br />Would the question even come up today?<br /><br />Here we are, in this revolutionary age of click-and-learn, and still the notion lingers, like some moldy imperial decree, that Americans can’t be smart about their words, that they must be presented their news in terms that resonate with eighth-graders (okay, ninth-graders if you’re daring).<br /><br />Americans of any mettle should chafe at such a condescending—and unnecessary—attitude. <span style="color:#6633ff;"><strong>Why dumb down words when it’s so easy to look them up? </strong></span>Especially now that so many of us get at least some of our news online, where finding a definition takes just a few keystrokes.<br /><br />Even readers of The New York Times have to look up the meaning of some of the newspaper’s terms. (“Sui generis” topped a recent list. Go ahead—see how long it takes you to look it up.) I declare that to be a good thing: it means we know we’re still capable of learning.<br /><br />In fact, I’d say it was our inalienable right.mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-90189420609990968612009-06-05T13:40:00.000-04:002009-06-05T13:41:30.147-04:00Who took the “ugh” out of “doughnut”?June 5th is National Donut Day, so get thee to a Dunkin’ Donuts (where my husband will be) or a Krispy Kreme. But whatever happened to the “ugh” in “doughnut”?<br /><br />The word itself is an Americanism. Washington Irving put “doughnut” on the linguistic map back in 1809. It was a lot easier to say and spell than its unappetizing synonym of “olykoeks” (literally, oil cakes).<br /><br />We Americans have long had a thing about “u” words. “Dialogue” is now “dialog,” “honour” is “honor.” So it’s not surprising that we took the “ugh” out of “doughnut.” Besides, most of us would swap that “ugh” for “yum.”mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-68938582132584167752009-03-01T11:06:00.001-05:002009-03-01T11:08:08.675-05:00Obama’s Hurricane RecessionWhen President Obama began his message to Congress last week with details of his economic recovery plan, his words were startlingly familiar—at least to many Floridians.<br /><br />“We will rebuild,” he said. “We will recover.”<br /><br />That Obama-speak was also hurricane-speak. “Rebuild” and “recover” are the watchwords of devastation. Those are the phrases that people in Florida (and no doubt in other hurricane-prone parts of the country) hear after each storm blows through, blows down the power lines, blows away the roofs.<br /><br />It seems a fitting parallel. As with hurricanes, so with recessions: both expose a weak infrastructure.<br /><br />If there’s a silver lining to this dark cloud, it’s that eventually, we do rebuild and do recover from the hurricanes. Let’s hope the recession follows the same path.mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-19777468144317780182009-01-21T12:47:00.000-05:002009-01-21T12:51:47.631-05:00If Lincoln had blogged on Inauguration Day……he would not have found Obama’s language overly familiar. For despite what some were expecting, President Barack Obama’s inaugural address was not an echo of Lincolnian cadences. But what Lincoln would have recognized in Obama was a shared mastery in turning words into deeds.<br /><br />Once upon a time that seems not to matter now, these barely-known candidates from Illinois were dismissed as being no more than adroit wordsmiths. But both have shown that carefully considered words can yield hoped-for actions. The right words, in the right hands, become instruments of power.<br /><br />Had Lincoln blogged, he might have commented on the transformative power of Barack Obama’s inaugural words. Almost instantly, they put into motion a national mindset of <strong><em>we, the people, together, we can.<br /><br /></em></strong>In Obama’s good words rest good deeds poised to be done—the kinds of actions that elicit in Americans what Lincoln might have called “the better angels of our nature.”<br /><br />Granted, it’s just a beginning. But what a way to begin anew.mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-35509780098621350042009-01-06T17:10:00.000-05:002009-01-06T17:15:46.617-05:00I’ll have whatever Calista Flockhart is havingAm I the only person who had never heard the term “brain sex” until Kitty (Calista Flockhart) said it to her husband, Robert (Rob Lowe) on TV’s “Brothers and Sisters”?<br /><br />If I understood her correctly, it means the kind of verbal sparring that occurs when two people speak to one another on a subject they care about in animated, intelligent, lucid, lively, bright, colorful and descriptive sentences.<br /><br />We word lovers have long known that words matter. Now there’s one more reason why being smart about your words can make you happy.mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-87657802121330895762008-11-07T19:28:00.003-05:002008-11-07T19:46:24.713-05:00A Victory for EloquenceIt took months, weeks, days of grueling, grinding work to win the presidential election. But within two hours of doing so, President-Elect Barack Obama scored a major victory for the American language: he brought eloquence to the national stage once again.<br /><br />In his acceptance speech, he made a graceful allusion to Martin Luther King Jr.’s statement that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Then he drew directly from the closing paragraph of Lincoln's<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" params="Category=14-238Level=2-3PageID=6406"'"> </a>first inaugural address when he stated, “We are not enemies, but friends.”<br /><br /><em>The World Changes,</em> trumpeted the headline in an Italian newspaper, announcing the election results. For all the power that Barack Obama will soon have to change the world, it will be the power of his words that will move many of us—not only to action, but to think.<br /><br />Your thoughts? Click the <strong>Comments </strong>button if you’d like to have words.mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8947321541137934970.post-81532227974263281412008-10-25T08:45:00.001-04:002008-10-25T08:49:40.946-04:00Not again! Say it isn’t so, Sarah<em>Palin</em>, in Greek, means “again.” Listening to Sarah Palin relay her redneck story when she was in Ohio recently—“You know what I said when somebody said to me, ‘Sarah, you’re a redneck’? I said, ‘Thank you’”—one starts to hear it all over again.<br /><br />Red versus blue.<br />Us versus them.<br />Me versus you.<br /><br />Thanks to the implosion of Wall Street, Americans may be long divided between those who profited in the fall (cause) and those who’ve watched their savings, jobs, homes, retirement fall apart (effect). Isn’t that enough of a divide?<br /><br />Do we really need to go back to that Bush League dichotomy of you’re-one-of-us-or-you’re-not?<br /><br />Not again. Please—not ever again.mim harrisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17444891231273872430noreply@blogger.com0