Poignant memories

Cat and I just watched "The Constant Gardener" (again) even though we knew it would sadden us. If you have not seen the movie, I recommend it despite the R rating (yes, I am a prude). Much of it was filmed in Kenya, and although we did not recognize specific sites, it was all very familiar: the children constantly asking "How are you?" of white strangers, the matatus (van-sized buses), the red earth. Within the movie is the presentation of a play about AIDS and I believe that, the last time we were in Kenya, we saw the troupe which performed this in the movie. At any rate, the troupe we saw did something quite similar. They use an interesting technique whereby each role is played by three actors speaking and moving in unison. So 12 people play out a drama of a father, a mother, a sister, and a brother.

Seeing the movie made me long to be in Kenya again. With the drought there has been a rise in crime, mostly thefts and robberies. It is a more dangerous place for wazungu (white people) now than even a year ago. And yet, I have friends there to visit and projects which need attending. Well, I have to stop thinking about this or I will become morose.

To set everyone's mind at ease . . .

Really, I do not want to be responsible for sending Annie over the edge. The old book from which the snippet was taken is the 23rd edition (January, 1921) of the Boy Scout Handbook. Ironically, even though I said that it was priceless to me, you can see that the price was 50 cents at the time of publication. A very large portion of this edition was devoted to recognizing wild plants and animals. One of the merit badges it lists is blacksmithing.

I got this book from my grandfather, who to my knowledge was never a Boy Scout, and appreciate it because I was a Scout until the age of eighteen. Alas, I only made it to the rank of Life Scout, just short of Eagle. But to tell you the truth, making the rank of Eagle Scout practically requires ignoring the troop and pursuing your own project single-mindedly. So I don't mind. I learned more about being a man from Scouting than from any other institution.

How about another "watzat"?

As I waited for the photo to load, I thought about the proper way to describe it. One could not truthfully say "priceless" because in this world everything (as ebay has proven) can be priced. Isn't it odd how we abstract our interdependence into money? Here's what I am talking about. Let's say that in remote village A, where everything is quite unrefined, a woman with three goats finds herself to have a surplus of goat cheese. She realizes that her cousin, whose family is rather large, does not have enough food all of the time, so she gives the family some of her excess cheese. The cousin, in a natural response of gratitude, composes a song in honor of the goat-lady, and the family performs this song at the next village meeting.

Meanwhile, in less remote village B, an adolescent with a fistful of dollars from her weekly allowance goes into Hastings and buys a CD by her favorite (this week) artist. In both villages an exchange took place and music was received. But how did the events differ in quality? In village A the relationship of the elements exchanged was never measured. The song was not valued at two pounds of cheese, nor was the cheese determined to be worthy of one song and a poem.

In village B, not only was the exchange very closely measured, but it involved an item with no intrinsic value: money. The value of money depends absolutely on what people think it is worth. A fifty-dollar bill has no more inherent value to it than a one-dollar bill. Children know that but adults forget. We tend to think so highly of those bits of paper, that we imagine they have the power to replace our interdependence.

Let's say one of your friends has a son graduating from high school and you are sent a graduation announcement. Do you write a poem in praise of the student's accomplishment? Or do you send him a check for $25.00? Which would the student value more? Does that even enter into the decision-making process?
Well, the photo has been loaded for some time now. Just tell me what you think it is. To me it is priceless.

See for yourself

OK, take a look at this photo and tell me what you think. Cat says I am delirious (more or less).

Could this be Michael J. Fox?

It is clear that staying home with the inability to do projects that demand any intelligence or energy is taking its toll on me. (It took me three tries just to type that sentence.) Anyway, I was looking at the "self-portrait" from which the "eye" photo below was taken and the resemblance to Michael J. Fox struck me. (He has lots of lines, too, Annie.) Am I hallucinating here? OK, time to return to bed. The heck with writing that rondo for handbells.

I'm sick

And not in the way you perverts are thinking. I had a dry cough on Saturday and by the time I went to bed my fever was nearly 101. Sunday I managed to go to Sunday school, but came back home immediately afterwards. I stopped in at work today just to send budget info to the CFO then came home and called the doctor's office. They assured me that the doctor would call in a prescription. It is now 4:00 PM and still no prescription. Boy, am I grumpy! Does my eye look sick to you?