Charlie w/ Flower, Sepia & Soft Focus

Shell took Gracie out to run some errands so it was just me and Charlotte with some time together, so I had a little mini-photo shoot. I think Shelley and GG are also going to Tim’s this weekend for their annual barbeque and Charlie and I will stay at home and have some quiet time. She’s at the point where disturbing her sleep patterns is not a great idea…plus maybe I can take her out- just me and my littlest bug- before I turn around and she’s grown up to fast like her sister.

The idea of collective grief is nothing new- community tragedy is often grieved by the larger society as communal bonds replace familial bonds. The death of a famous person, while not perhaps tragic in the same sense as natural disasters, or terrorist acts, can still evoke the same sorts of collective grief.

The assassination of John Kennedy produced an outpour of grief beyond the national borders. While the news of Kennedy’s death was broadcast across the world, it was still hindered by the technologies of the mid-1960s. Yet, the way in which foreign nations mourned a murdered President of the United States provided keys to some of the necessary elements to collective grief.

Sudden tragedy-
The unexpected death, especially a death surrounded by violence, is a shock that begs for collective expression of mutual condolence. The comfort individuals find in other individuals sharing similar grief helps to mitigate the shock of the unexpected loss.

Centralization to power-
The closer the person in question was relative to some type of power structure (politics, media, or other cultural touchstones), the more people feel attached to the death. Their lives are more likely to have intersected society at various points along the public consciousness, and those points are as likely to have involved tangents beyond their normal area of reference. Thus a politician may have touched lives not just in political ways, but in cultural ways as well. The higher the office of a politician equals a larger constituency creating a larger pool of mourners. The same is true for entertainers, who may have moved beyond their narrow field to articulate political change, or through their potential wealth, perhaps making substantial real change in communities.

Time in the spotlight-
The longer a figure exists in the public consciousness, the more time they will have to develop such connections that make collective grief possible. In our Kennedy example, the dynastic quality of the family name made the collective grief over the death of John Kennedy, Jr., who Americans (and the world) had watched from birth, in some ways a stronger outpouring than that of his father.

Each of these three rules has been infused in the modern era with the instant communication technologies of the time. The death of Princess Diana was an example of collective grief in the modern world. Technology- television, instant information broadcasts, viral videos- all compete to make the mass mourning of the famous a truly global event.

Freelance British journalist Jeremy Seabrook, in an article titled “Love and Grief in a Savage Society” has noted the importance of these modern forces in the death of Princess Diana and the collective grief it spawned.
“Diana was the first truly global icon to perish, and in that she presaged and accelerated forms of cultural integration, whereby her image was as familiar in the villages of India as on the streets of London. She embodied an iconography of wealth and success, but allied to a deep humanitarian commitment; the perfect emblem and emissary of everything we stand for; yet snuffed out in a meaningless and banal accident.”

Seabrook goes on to argue that “Celebrity”, is a form of worshipping the famous, and has become a new type of religion in the global communications world. Famous figures are the new gods that the public looks toward to divine cultural customs and norms. They simultaneously drive and reflect the zeitgeist of their times.

Add to this the length of time the very famous exist in the culture, and thus how much drive and reflection they can create.

Elvis was an icon of the 1950s rebellion of youth culture. Merged with the dawn of television, and his foray into film, Elvis was perhaps the most famous entertainer of the 20th century, and upon his death, was greeted with swarms of fans, who have since built trips to Graceland as a type of religious pilgrimage. The Beatles moved beyond music to become the sages of the 1960s global socio-political revolutions. Beatle songs became global anthems of Love and Peace at a time of heightened Cold War tensions and the Vietnam War. When John Lennon, perhaps the most visible and overtly activist Beatle, was assassinated, his death brought upon a collective grief that signaled the end of a certain age.

“The evil that men do lives after them, the good is often interred with their bones”

Antony’s invocation of the effects of fame on death articulates the idea of collective grief. He is spinning the cultural zeitgeist from resentment of the dead, to resentment of Caesar’s killers. He understands the nature (and power) of collective grief, and further understands that history, once written, is difficult to fully rewrite. In the modern age, however, media is largely controlled by the most vocal, and truth is lost in perception. History today tends to favor the dead. Elegiac stories are written, passed about, and seep into the consciousness of the culture. Images become viral, building a momentum until the image becomes the reality.

As the scenes of collective grief over the death of Michael Jackson poured out from television screens, the Internet was flooded with hits from all over the world, temporarily slowing down, indeed almost crashing servers everywhere. Meanwhile, fake stories of the death of actor Jeff Goldbloom began to surface, via Twitter feeds and social networking updates. Why Jeff Goldbloom would be the target of such a hoax is a question unto itself.

Jackson is being hailed as an innovative entertainer, a cultural icon. Yet, he is also being remembered as a strange and enigmatic figure that bought the bones of the Elephant Man, built an amusement park at his house, had a monkey for a best friend, and was accused, though ultimately never convicted, of being a pedophile.
The competing visions of the individual will battle for the public consciousness, and eventually one will, if not obliterate the other, at least obscure the image of the other. This debate will last far longer than the collective grief, which will, as grief does, slowly heal itself. In the end what is not about us, becomes about us, before finally turning back on itself and becoming about the person who passed away and the people they left behind, but that does not mitigate the intense passions that exist, nor soothe the collective grief expressed.

It’s not the sex- it’s the hypocrisy, stupid.

There is always the inevitable post-Republican sex-scandal push back. It starts with something like: “Sure, liberals are always saying sex is a personal matter until it’s a Republican who has the affair”. As usual, it is the GOP missing the point entirely.

Democrats really DO believe that consensual sex between adults, even the adulterous kind, is a personal matter. The problem is that the Republicans themselves do not- thus the hypocrisy is what those on the left view with a healthy dose of schadenfreude.

Republicans wrap themselves in the family values cloak, which often becomes a shroud when they prove to be quite human when it comes to sex. If Republicans were less holier-than-thou, they would not be so shot full of holes when marital vows get ‘deep-sixed’.

For a political culture that likes to hark back to ‘traditional’ values, Republicans seem to forget the simplest of lessons our mothers taught us as children- when you point your finger, three fingers point back at yourself.

In the wake of Governor Sanford’s disclosure of his affair yesterday, it wasn’t the prurient interests of Democrats that led to the interest or the jokes, anymore than any such disclosure attracts the modern voyeuristic culture. Instead it was age-old story of the moral crusader, failing his own self-professed test of character counting that hoisted him on his own petard.

Governor Sanford liked to cast stones at those who failed to keep a perfect private life. He enjoyed turning such matters into a public crucible for leadership. So it should have come as no surprise that living in the glass house would generate such heat in the bright light of day.

At least for Sanford, the irony (and the hypocrisy) did not seem lost on him. Sanford seemed genuinely moved by his own weakness, and rather than simply take blame for the sake of taking blame, Sanford looked like a man truly surprised by his own moral failing, and suddenly understanding that life is never as simple as it seems when looking at the world from a moral pedestal.

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Sometimes your days and in my case the words out of your gob, often do not come out as planned.
Today was one of those days.

My games (plan A) were rained out so I was able to go with Shelley and the girls to Shell’s parents’ house (scratch plan A…on to plan B)…
There was a chance to take photos in my mother-in-law’s beautiful gardens (plan C) which was something to be really excited about…except that when I got there I realized that I left memory card and my backup card at home (scratch plan C)…I was able to take a few pictures, though not as many as I’d liked and through the magic of FTP, transfer the few I did take to my website (plan D).

I felt all day like I was coming down with a cold, and so after sitting outside for a while, I figured I’d go inside and catch up on the US Open (plan E)…I flipped the TV over to the coverage, and suddenly rushing into the room, screaming as though Tinkerbell had just been brutally murdered by Swiper AND those evil monkeys from Go, Diego, Go, came Gracie demanding that I immediately tune the channel BACK to Treehouse and off my silly golf game…

This is one of those moments where I wish my life had a TiVo function, so I could pause live action, fast forward to see how the next hour would play out, then rewind to the beginning of the program and NEVER GET OUT OF BED on Saturday. (plan F…for totally F***ed this one up).

To make a long, brutally embarrassing, and simply unwilling to relive the nightmare again story short…stuff happened- none of which was good- and it all ended in tears from nearly everyone in the house.

The things unplanned…it never really works in my favor. When I hear someone say they’re the type who likes to fly by the seat of their pants, I have to wonder what happens to them when, like me, they have to stop what they’re doing and pull their head of out their…pants…

We did manage to somehow have dinner, and the rest of the evening was spent in relative calm. And I did manage to take a relatively nice photo of my mother-in-law’s Peonies.

And now that I’m home, and the house in quiet, and everyone is sound asleep…I think I’ll go to bed and NEVER GET OUT AGAIN…

It sounds like a Plan.

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Ginny Grace definitely has her mother’s smile…I can’t help but feel happy whenever I see it

Colleen and Patrick

Colleen and Patrick are the couple that rent our apartment downstairs. We’re so lucky to have them. They are responsible, friendly, and very sweet. They’ve taken a shine to the girls and have babysitted them from time to time. They invited us to their wedding today and it was so beautiful, just note perfect. Colleen was beautiful, and Patrick was so nervous (but clearly trying not to show it). We decided not to stay for the reception because we knew Charlotte and Gracie would be too much to deal with (and it was a good call since they barely made it through dinner at Red Lobster with just us).
The weather could not have been better during the ceremony and all my girls looked lovely in their party dresses. I was looking pretty sylish myself I must say, though I wasn’t able to get a shot of me for proof! The girls are worn out and crashed pretty easily, and Shell is knee deep in watching The Butterfly Effect, so I’m debating on catching a late movie alone. Guess I’d better hurry and decide before the theatre closes up for the night!

Congrats to Colleen and Patrick!!!

Willow

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Gracie burst into the room yesterday “Look Dada, I’m a beautiful fairy princess”…yes you are baby and don’t you ever forget it!

I’ve been informed that I don’t update enough of late, but to be honest I’ve not had much to say and I’ve been working a lot in the last month (and when I haven’t been away from home- Shell’s been away)…so time is at a premium.

Anyway as far as a general life update:
The kids were quite sick last week but are both better now. Gracie has a new friend in the neighborhood, so hopefully she have more playmates than her baby sister and me. Charlotte sprouted six teeth at once and now chomps on everything she can.
Shell just celebrated her birthday yesterday, but I had to work last night so we’re saving Saturday night as our big going out to dinner time. Saturday is also the wedding day of our tenants Colleen and Patrick. They’re such cute kids, and we can’t wait to go to the wedding- Shell got the girls new dresses and so since we’ll all be dressed up (well there’s only so much dressed up I get) we’ll be all fancy schmancy for dinner.

I really had a whirlwind 6 weeks of umpiring that has finally hit sort of a slow patch now that the high schools are done until the fall. It’s been great and I think I’ve done very well (and I’ve made some extra cash to help out for a change).

My softball playing however has not been as good. Both my teams are in first place, but I’ve played about as well as Barry Bonds is playing at the moment- not at all. I just can’t seem to find my groove at the plate yet, and no matter what I’ve tried (short of sacrificing a live chicken) I haven’t come out of the slump yet.

I’ve recently finished reading Malcolm Gladwell’s “Outliers” and the new Winstom Groom book about Vickskburg [”Vicksburg, 1863″] and now I’m on to Bob Wright’s new book “The Evolution of God”, so my summer reading has been extraordinary. I’m also a third of the way through “Angels & Demons” but I’m afraid I’m going to have to see the movie before I finish the book.

I started writing a lengthy essay on the Torture Memos but sort of lost steam and haven’t looked back at it in a while [sorry Rabia]. I really want to write again (more to the point I really want to research again), and I have some ideas, but since I’m not a working historian, nor a grad student, I just don’t have the time to close myself off in an archive for a weekend and pour through documents- but I can dream can’t I? At times I kind of feel like the Burgess Meredith character in that Twilight Zone episode where all he wants to do is have time to read all the books he wants, and then emerges as the only person alive after a world war, so he has ‘all the time in the world’ but then breaks his glasses. I have the desire and the ideas, but not the time and availability. Maybe one day…good thing I don’t wear glasses.

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The weather can’t seem to make up its mind lately. One day it is simply gorgeous: sunny, blue skies, warm; the next is horrid: overcast, chilly, windy, rainy. It makes it difficult to let the kids play in the backyard when every other day is beautiful but its wet and muddy. Gracie’s sandbox is a giant mud pit at the moment. I’d like to see spring or summer, or some combination of the two show itself rather than this dark, late fall-type silliness that’s going on.

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