'I Know What My Garbage Bag Looks Like'

Today's Hartford Courant included a glimpse into the life of the man who runs the largest trash processing plant in the state. And over more than 20 years, John Romano has seen it all. "Oh, the coins, it's the coins that fascinate me," he said, of the nickels and dimes and pennies that litter like heaps of confetti. "People, I guess, don't like pennies."

The Hartford plant doesn't have a way of extracting these valuables from their conveyer belts that handle more than 70 towns worth of daily refuse, tons and tons, per day. But other plants do, and they reap more than $2000 per week in thrown-away coins.

He often gets asked if he can find items that were accidentally thrown out. "They tell me, 'I know what my garbage bag looks like,' believe me, that's a quote. He laughs at this, 'which one is yours? Has it got your name on it?"

This plant makes steam, and then electricity, by burning trash from a never-ending stream of garbage. Steel, nonburnable waste, and other metals are picked out, with all of the rest shredded into 6-inch pieces.

Visitors from other countries come and marvel at the plant, they can't believe there is this much trash here in the US. Since 1980, we've doubled the amount of trash we produce, now 4 1/2 pounds per person, per day.

Skipping Out of the Doc's Office and Talking WiFi

I skipped when I left the doctor's office today, skipped just like Woody Allen did when he exited his doctor's office in "Manhattan" with no evidence of the brain tumor he was convinced that he had. Oh how I love that skip! Told that PSA and liver are all in good order, I was celebratory, my plan to have cocktails only on the weekends has worked splendidly!

Now even when I have to gaze at a tempting icy cold Berkshire Brewing bottle in the fridge, I move past it to the juice and seltzer, saving this treat for Friday or Saturday night. It's worked well, and it makes me feel great to know that my only liver is happier now.

Today I got a call from my pal BJ Roche, she used to be a columnist for the Boston Globe, now she's writing a freelance piece about WiFi. That's an area I know a lot about, having tried on my own to wire our little village. While I did not succeed in doing every house, we did create a WiFi enabled town common, and people have enjoyed it ever since. I told her that government should be helping rural communities to get WiFi using these same methods, like they've done up in Barre, VT.

A New Travel Book with my Essay Inside

Earlier this week I was thrilled to get a copy of a new travel book in the mail. It was Tim Leffel's book from Travel Tales about being a contrarian traveler. It's called Make Your Travel Dollars Worth a Fortune. He approached me months back asking for a sidebar, I gladly submitted my essay on my childhood visits to offseason Atlantic City and Martha's Vineyard. It is nice to see this book come out, and to be a part of it.

Today we also began teaching jacob, a cafe customer, how to type. Software on the cafe computers makes it fun and easy....so funny watching some people who can't type try to hunt and peck and find the 'o' looking quizzically at the keyboard, tapping slowly. I think this is gonna be very popular, I have high hopes for this and other class ideas that are percolating for the fall.

Katie We Hardly Knew Ye

Did Lou Really Sign that Ticket?

Last night I turned on PBS and saw a man holding an old baseball game ticket from the 1930s. It was for game number 34, at Yankee Stadium, in the year 1939. That is a famous game because it was the double header where Lou Gerhig made his famous speech, declaring himself 'the luckiest man on the face of the earth.' He died just a few years later, and never played after that fateful day.

The owner of the ticket was excited, he thought he had a truly valuable piece of memorabilia. It had a hand-written date on the top of the ticket, and on the back neatly signed was the Big Guy's signature. The TV show set out to investigate whether this was genuine, so first they went to the baseball office and dug out a book that listed every game in 1934. So far so good. Then they interviewed an old man who said he was actually at the game, explaining about the double header, and how the ceremony for Gerhig was held between games. But the signature...was it real?

Then they found a man with a laptop full of authentic Gerhig signatures. The slugger's e's and i's were tiny, and there was a bit of a backward loop to the capital letters. The ticket's signature, by contrast, had bigger e's and leaned forward just a bit. It looked a little too neat for the Man thought the expert. It turned out that Gerhig's wife often signed the tickets and balls for him. This one, while signed on an authentic ticket, was not an actual Lou signature, but more likely one written by his wife.

Despite this evidence, the man who owned the plexiglass-encased ticket said he'd never sell it. Because it was from one of the most important times baseball ever knew...and the experts said that they thought Gerhig actually knew he was dying from ALS when he made the poignant speech.

New Ideas for Classes at the Cafe

Interesting people come into the cafe quite often. That's one of things I like best about this business, the people who pop in for coffee and ask for the owner. Julie Paquette is a pretty woman with long blond hair who is sharp...she works for many clients using Quickbooks software. She wanted to teach a QB class at the cafe. I think that's a great idea, as long as we can get students in the seats. I like too that she's back a second time. She came in once before a few months back and I wasn't sure I was interested. But when people persist, and come back again, I usually listen more attentively. I respond well to people who persist, I've decided.

So we'll see what our customers say about this new idea, offering a beginners and an advanced class in Quickbooks for business owners. We email all of our customers who have our Coffee Lover's Cards, so we can tell all of our regulars what's new using this method. I hope that we get a good response, I'd like to offer this class here.

Tomorrow it's touch typing here, we have a full class for this. It will take about five classes for our hunt-and-pecks to become typists. But in the long run, they'll all be happy not have to stare at the keyboard when they use the computer.

Office Pirate Sinks to the Bottom of the Web's Sea

I wrote about a new Time Inc website before it debuted. It has now died. It was called "Office Pirate" and now that I've read in the NY Post that it is gone, I finally got a chance to check it out. And you know it is (was) pretty funny.

The site is like Maxim magazine, for office cubical dwellers looking for fun stuff to waste time with. There was a video of an office worker's fantasy of all the women in the office wearing no shirts, only bras, and a rant about how much of a pain it is that colleagues so often have meetings in hallways not in conference rooms. Ok, well maybe there isn't that much here, but in the short little space of time I spent there, I got a few chuckles.

On the site today, it said sadly, "this is our last day on line." Like an obituary written while the patient was still breathing. I'd suggest that instead of sinking this ship, Time just sells it to one of the editors. If I worked there, I'd keep this effort going, some day it will make a lot of money.

Insurance Is Big Big Bucks

Last night we had dinner at Cindy's with a fun couple from Longmeadow. They work in the insurance business, and I got a chance to find out some interesting things about this massively profitable enterprise.

When somebody signs up for a life insurance policy, for example, it only takes seven years to pay off the entire death benefit. So if you keep paying the premiums for 20 or 30 years, they make a fortune, if you die after only 10 years, they still make out fine.

The reason that insurance companies have so much money is that they keep the money in reserves to pay claims...so it becomes tax-free billions. The companies keep buying real estate and bonds, trying to do something with the piles of cash. The reason that GE and others have gotten into the insurance business is because of this incredible tax benefit...and that's why Berkshire Hathaway is one of the richest companies, because of that tax benefit.

Insurance agents can make commissions of up to 140 percent of the value of the policy, that's why so many people are interested in working in this business. You'd think that paying such huge commissions would be too costly....but again, just keeping those policies in force for seven or more years guarantees a profit over the long haul.

To pay the claims, the insurance companies rely on re-insurance companies, each of whom have to pay just about a fifth of the total claim. So they never have to take as big a hit, since they share the costs among the whole industry.

The Front Porch is Making a Comeback

I woke up early, a fitful sleep, with my grandson Nathan crying and waking me up in the night. Groggy, I set out to open the cafe for 8. Slow start, crappy day out, so time to read the Daily Hampshire Gazette. Next month they turn into a morning paper, I think this is going to be a huge boost for them.

I found a story about front porch sitting. There is actually a Professional Porch Sitters Union, based in Louisville, KY, 'a sort of do-nothing organization whose motto is "Sit down a spell." I've always loved a second floor porch, sitting and watching the world.

"The porch was a place to catch the last light of the day, and it was your form of entertainment," said Crow Hollister, the organization's founder. But as Americans turned their backs on the porch in favor of the backyard deck, they shut themselves off from their communities. This turned into the 'private area,' the place between the front door and the public world.'

A new community in Seaside FL requires that all homes have a front porch. "It's a political movement," said Hollister. They're tearing down old housing that is unhealthy and rebuild healthier living spaces that includes porches."

Guess What Time It Is

Today's Springfield Republican included a story by Mary Ellen Lowney about the decline of watch wearing. She found many youth who shun the wrist adornment, and others who simply said they knew what time it was all day, without a watch. Attorney Michael Ryan, for example, told the reporter exactly what time it was, out of thin air.

Frank Suher, of E-S Sports, used to tell me that there were two things people noticed about salesman--their shoes and their watch. Manager Michael Rinaldi at Hannoush Jewelers, agrees. "I sell a ton of watches, especially high end watches...kids with cellphones might not wear watches, but when you deal with business people, they still want to wear a watch. It's professional. Nothing looks better than wearing a high-end time piece when you're hard at work."

I have a good friend who owns a Philip Patik watch, I always joke about 'the Volvo on his wrist.' He shall remain nameless in case somebody reading this wants to break in.

I've worn my Kenneth Cole $35 model for years and I do notice that when I don't have it on, I want to glance down at it, out of habit. But like the kids at the mall, I use my cellphone more than the watch to tell time.

Writing is Harder than It Looks

It's pouring rain outside, and I made it to the cafe around 8:45, to find Britt looking kind of weak. She said she wanted to go home, so I took over. Once again, not expecting it, but hey, I really do like this work, and when this happens the business owner in me thinks about lower payroll costs...and smiles. The only thing that bugs me is that once again I'll delay writing my article about Malaysia.

This has become a common theme. I get back from a trip, try to write the story while I am there, and find myself a million reasons to avoid actually writing. Writing sounds so easy...just peck out some words on a keyboard. But it is hard, damn hard to actually come out with a good article, good enough so that people who want to write for us can read my story and see how it's done. That is why it's hard, Steve felt the same way when he got back from Ireland. We have to write the stories so that they are examples of what we want to publish. Red Smith used to say, 'writing is easy, you just take your wrist and cut open a vein.'

Well enough of my inner angst. I'll get the story done, I always do. Because I am going to be going to Austria in late September, and I have a rule that I can't go on another trip before the article from the last one is published.

The World View of the Class of 2010

Kathryn my ex sent me an interesting email about the incoming class of 2010. Beloit College compiles a list of the accepted facts of this generation, most of whom were born in 1988. Here are some of their assumptions.

1. The Soviet Union has never existed and therefore is about as scary as the student union.
2. They have known only two presidents.
3. For most of their lives, major U.S. airlines have been bankrupt.
4. Manuel Noriega has always been in jail in the U.S.
5. They have grown up getting lost in "big boxes."
6. There has always been only one Germany.
7. They have never heard anyone actually "ring it up" on a cash register.
8. They are wireless, yet always connected.
9. A stained blue dress is as famous to their generation as a third-rate burglary was to their parents'.
10. Thanks to pervasive headphones in the back seat, parents have always been able to speak freely in the front.
11. A coffee has always taken longer to make than a milkshake.
12. Smoking has never been permitted on U.S. airlines.
13. Faux fur has always been a necessary element of style.
14. The Moral Majority has never needed an organization.
16. DNA fingerprinting has always been admissible evidence in court.
17. They grew up pushing their own miniature shopping carts in the supermarket.
18. They grew up with and have outgrown faxing as a means of communication.
19. "Google" has always been a verb.
20. Text messaging is their email.
21. Milli Vanilli has never had anything to say.
22. Mr. Rogers, not Walter Cronkite, has always been the most trusted man in America.
23. Bar codes have always been on everything, from library cards and snail mail to retail items.
24. Madden has always been a game, not a Superbowl-winning coach.
25. Phantom of the Opera has always been on Broadway.
26. "Boogers" candy has always been a favorite for grossing out parents.
27. There has never been a "skyhook" in the NBA.
28. Carbon copies are oddities found in their grandparents' attics.
31. They grew up in mini-vans.
32. Reality shows have always been on television.
33. They have no idea why we needed to ask "...can we all get along?"
36. They have rarely mailed anything using a stamp.
38. Being techno-savvy has always been inversely proportional to age.
53. They have always preferred going out in groups as opposed to dating.
54. They have always "dissed" what they don't like.
75. Professional athletes have always competed in the Olympics.

Talking About Aging at the Tavern on the Hill

We went out to dinner last night, to the Tavern on the Hill, a popular place with a magnificent view of the valley below. The place was packed, the twilight was beautiful, and everybody was waiting for a table out on the deck. The conversation flowed easily with another couple, and the talk centered around parents, in all of their various stages of life.

The man had just lost his mom, so he was faced now with having to deal with his ornery dad, who seemed a disagreeable sort. When mom had her caretakers living in their house, all the attention was paid to her. Dad was grumpy, like a child, wanting more focus and attention on him. Now he needed that same caregiver, who he said he didn't like, to come care for him. He begrudingly obliged, meekly, like a child. Every step of the way, he fights his son, angry and bitter at this stage in life.

The woman talked about her mom and dad, living out in the country near all of their relatives in Virginia. Her mom spends her time rummaging through drawers, trying to find things, and has dementia. She can't remember anything, and is almost always angry at her husband. He retreats out to the four-and-a-half acre lawn to mow, mow and mow, escaping her constant carping. It sounds like a tough life.

We all agreed that as more of us age, these problems will be a bigger part of our lives. It seems to me that the best investment one can make is in long-term care, since that kind of advance planning can bring those caregivers in and pay for the nursing home, that none of us want, but many of us will need. Some day.

Beirut Gets its Flights Back

I spent some time on the radio this morning, chatting with Brad Shepard about the current state of affairs in airport security. Before my segment, Brad was chatting about Fanny Foxe, the famous stripper who almost undid the career of Sen. Walter Mills back in 1972, when they were caught in Washington's Tidal Basin, dripping and guilty. In spite of this scandal, the senator was re-elected and served many more years after this offense. Funny that I recall this event, even though I was only 15 at the time.

I was happy to read today that Lufthansa and other airlines have resumed flights to Beirut, just six days after the war is over. I thought the runways were all bombed but apparently, not enough to keep out the Germans. I had heard from another writer that Lebanon is one of the most beautiful places in the whole world, that she couldn't stop writing about its charms. Of course this was before the Israeli dismantlement. But I think Lebanon will come back and be a tourist destination again. Tourism, our business, is the solution to the world's economic troubles, it unifies and brings in 'recyclable' money, and for that reason, even places like Nigeria are trying to figure out how to get more people to visit.

WHYN Tomorrow, Talking 'Bout the TSA

The day is young, but with Britt back in her morning slot at the cafe, I have more time to do my thang. That means publicity...so I emailed old pal Brad Shepard and set up an interview tomorrow on WHYN-AM 560 at 8:35 am. I will talk about the new TSA rules and how you can ship your luggage ahead of time. We just put up this story on GoNOMAD, and with all of the hassle, hey, sending it out ahead via one of these services sounds pretty cool.

It is funny how quickly things heat up here at GoNOMAD. We hit the desk running people begin calling, emailing and stopping in and the cafe and office are a hub of activity. Today we get our new black cafe tee shirts from Bolducs, and more coffee bins from our friends Sean and Darren of Pierce Bros Coffee.

There are always new stories coming in, we just put one up last night about Chautauqua, NY, where 'Brain Food' is on the menu. All sorts of programs, symposia and lectures during the summer at their 100-year-old institute. We are sad to say goodbye to our talented intern Kristi Ghirdharry, who still blogs for us but isn't doing any more stories. We need more interns for the fall....know anyone?

I'll Have the SS Burger to Go, Please

Reuters reports on a new restaurant in India’s financial hub, named after Adolf Hitler and promoted with posters showing the German leader and Nazi swastikas, that has infuriated the country’s small Jewish community.

Hitler’s Cross, which opened last week, serves up a wide range of continental fare and a big helping of controversy, thanks to a name the owners say they chose to stand out among hundreds of Mumbai eateries.

“We wanted to be different. This is one name that will stay in people’s minds,” owner Punit Shablok told Reuters. “We are not promoting Hitler. But we want to tell people we are different in the way he was different.”

But India’s remaining Jews — most migrated to Israel and the West over the years — say they are outraged by the gimmick.

“This signifies a severe lack of awareness of the agony of millions of Jews caused by one man,” said Jonathan Solomon, chairman of the Indian Jewish Federation, the community’s umbrella organization.

“We are going to stop this deification of Hitler,” he said without elaborating.

The small restaurant, its interior done out in the Nazi colors of red, white and black, also has a lounge for smoking the Indian water pipe or “hookah.”

Posters line the road leading up to it, featuring a red swastika carved in the name of the eatery. One slogan reads: “From Small Bites to Mega Joys.”

A huge portrait of a stern-looking Füehrer greets visitors at the door. The cross in the restaurant’s name refers to the swastika that symbolized the Nazi regime.

“This place is not about wars or crimes, but where people come to relax and enjoy a meal,” said restaurant manager Fatima Kabani, adding that they were planning to turn the eatery’s name into a brand with more branches in Mumbai.

The swastika has its roots in ancient Indian Hindu tradition and remains a sacred symbol for Hindus. Nazi theorists appropriated it to bolster their central hypothesis of the Aryan origins of the German people."

Readers Take the Pix for these Newspapers

Andreas Tzortzis writes in the NY TImes about the new reader/photographers offering shots to newspapers around the world.

"Bild’s Leser-Reporter, or reader-reporter feature, introduced during the World Cup, brought its audience daily photos of celebrities, politicians and soccer stars — taken from the cellphone cameras of quick-thinking passers-by and sent to the paper.

“Before, readers saw something in the street and called it in to the newspaper,” said Christoph Simon, a Bild editor. “Times have changed.”

The paper paid 500 to 1,000 euros for photos printed in the reader-reporter pages, and, by the end of the World Cup tournament, as many as 1,000 pictures were arriving daily.

News organizations like CNN and The Guardian have been using reader-generated photos and video files since the Asian tsunami in December 2004.

“The important events of the future will be documented by amateur photographers,” said Nicolaus Fest, a member of the Bild editorial board. “We knew that early on, but didn’t have the technical possibilities to do it.”

Improved cellphone camera resolution enables the printing of clearer photos in larger formats. Bild has followed its soccer and celebrity photos in recent weeks with sensational car fires, weather pictures and photos of car models not yet on the market. Mr. Fest says it will not be long before a reader-generated picture of a newsworthy event will run on the front page."

Boise, Idaho is Paul's Next Destination

Ron Gardner, of Boise Idaho, has one of those radio voices. The kind that just booms out at you, solid, unwavering. He was full of enthusiasm last week talking about a visit to Boise. .I had called him after seeing a story in the recent National Geographic Adventure magazine, and thought it would make a great feature for us.

With Ron's kind assistance Paul Shoul is going out to an onion and potato festival in September, courtesy of the onion growers board, and shall also spend some time in Boise to do a GoNOMAD story. We like his new idea: 24 hours in the life of Boise. He'll start really early with a farmer in a field, and hit the internet cafes, breakfast joints, and other city highlights for an entire day across the city.

We're also adding another blog to our GoNOMAD blog network. LA Nomad will focus on travel and writing and left coast matters. It will be written by Bill Karz, who is also a contributing editor at JaxFax the magazine for travel agents. I met Bill in Malaysia and he's already written a story for GoNOMAD..about his trip to Colombia. He's a bright guy and energized about travel and writing. It should be a great addition to our other fine bloggers, Kent, Steve, Mridula, Sony and Kelly.

A Good Woman Makes You Feel Warm

I am lucky to have a good woman in my life. Men often let things slide, and that's why we need to have good women in our lives to set us right. Cindy reminded me, gently, that I needed to get back to the doc to renew a prescription. Without her prodding, I might just let it slide, not caring that the medicine that I'm not taking can't help me solve the problem that caused me to need it in the first place, if I don't keep taking it.

She also reminded me that my weekend drinking habits are moving toward the old over-do-it range. Again, without anyone speaking up, it is unlikely I would do anything except barrel ahead, full steam, as is my wont. But it is wise to heed the advice of moderation, to chill out, to intake less, and I gotta thank my Cindy for steering me straight once again.

Like a warm blanket on a cold night, a good woman keeps you warm, and makes you feel whole. She makes me feel that way, and that's why I love her.

Bodrum, Turkey, Looks Like the New St. Tropez

Turkey has always fascinated me, and it is on our list of places we want to go. Today's NY Times had a feature on the seaside village of Bodrum, which they compare with St. Tropez.

As house and R & B music pulsated from open-air bars, moneyed couples in Chanel double-C sunglasses and young women in gold bikinis poked into swimwear and jewelry boutiques, pausing occasionally to eat boiled mussels from scruffy fellows operating makeshift sidewalk stands. Fishermen hustled through the crowd carrying dripping plastic bags of freshly caught sea bass to restaurants where white-haired men rattled backgammon dice and sipped milky-hued raki, the lightning-strong, anise-flavored national drink.

From a slender mosque minaret — its tip sharpened like an arrow pointing to heaven — the call to prayer resounded through the warm afternoon. But Allah was losing the popularity contest to the sun worshipers trodding onto the long docks that extend like spokes into the bay.

There is no sand on this part of the coast, only these elaborate wood-plank beach clubs. Each is outfitted with ranks of plush white mattresses, fluttering white canopy beds, gauzy Arabesque tents and amply stocked bars. Some tanners arrive on motorboats from ships out in the bay; the more extravagant swoop in on seaplanes, sending up ostentatious splashes.

Like a seaside sorority row, each club draws its own distinct crowd. At Seen, a laid-back scattering of middle-aged doctors, lawyers and other professionals lounged under sun hats, occasionally checking the time on thick gold watches. At People, the assemblage is as encompassing as the name. College-age women, unshaven Turkish hipsters, patrician older men and vacationing families lay side by side.

A Roadtrip with Lovable Losers

Last night we went to the big city, big Northampton, for dinner and a movie. It was time we had a proper date; so it was Thai food and "Little Miss Sunshine" at Pleasant St. The streets were packed on this warm summer night, it made us glad we bought the tickets before hand.

The film was wonderful; a tale of a road trip to a beauty pageant with an odd cast of characters, each in their own way failures who muddle through life: Greg Kennear was the guy with the Big Idea, his 9 Steps to Success, a homegrown Tony Robbins, but nobody listened and nobody wanted to buy. Duane, his 16-year-old son, dreams of flying jets but has taken a vow of silence, so only scribbles thoughts on a pad...such as "I hate everybody," and "go hug mom." Then there is Uncle Larry, a gay professor who's been rejected by a lover and now suicidal contemplating the greatness of a rival Proust scholar...and grandpa, sitting in the back seat of the VW bus cursing and talking about sexual conquests.

The journey is made more fun by a clutch problem, forcing this band of misfits to jumpstart and then all run to jump into the moving VW bus, every time they have to stop. The film destroys the beauty pageant culture, and provides us with five characters who all fail...but try eloquently, and struggle, and leaves us all satisfied and empathic over theirs and our human condition.

He Tried, but Couldn't Make the Store Pay its Bills

Reading today's Recorder in the cafe, I came in to open and so far just a dribble of customers. So I had time to read about Steve Wilson. It's a sad story, dateline Warwick, MA. For fifteen years, the store in this sleepy Western Massachusetts town has stood empty. Wilson, a selectman there, said he just wanted to pay his bills, not make a killing...but it just wouldn't work. He spent 4 1/2 months trying to make his dream come true.

For the first two months the store was open, Wilson and his wife Deanna made enough to pay for the stock and keep the doors open. But then those dreaded gardens started coming in, "and people were on vacation or eating out of their gardens," Wilson said. He certainly put in the time, even driving to Orange to buy Sunday newspapers, and stocking videos from his personal collection for patrons to rent. He even sold cigarettes, against his conscience. But after 12-15 hour days, he just could not keep it going.

So today if you're driving through Warwick, there will be no general store to stop by. Never take for granted that it's easy to run a business in a small town. Bless and support those in your own little town, 'cause it's just not that easy to stay going.

All Along He Knew He Was Innocent

Bob Herbert recounts a tale of bitter irony--beginning on 9/11, when Abdallah Higazy was evacuated from the hotel he was living in across the street from the World Trade Center. He was a student at Brooklyn Polytech, and waiting for housing. He fled, like everyone else, then three months later when he returned to collect his belongings, his passport was gone, and he was arrested by the FBI. A hotel security guard said they found an aviation radio in his room. "Impossible," said Higazy. It's a fact, said the FBI, and sent him to prison. Later when he was interrogated, agents told him his family in Cairo would be put at the mercy of Egyption security, a thinly veiled way of saying tortured. Higazy panicked and began telling made up stories, anything to stop their questioning.

A month later, a pilot strolled into the Millenium Hotel and said he had lost his radio. He'd left it in the room on the 50th floor, just one flight down from Higazy's room. He had been telling the truth all along; it turned out the security guard had been lying, he'd not found that radio in Higazy's room after all.

Higazy is back in Egypt now, since married and teaching in Cairo. He is not bitter, but his lawyer is filing an appeal on his behalf.

Cute Little iPods are Made by Cute Overworked Chinese

I love my iPod but now where it's made: according to a recent report by the UK's Daily Mail entitled "iPod City," indentured servitude might not be a bad description of the working conditions inside the city-size Chinese factories that assemble the iPod nano and Shuffle, where the employees reportedly make about $50-a-month and live in crowded dormitories as thanks for working 15-hour days.

It should be noted that even though the Mail story is supposedly based on first-hand reporting, their claim of 200,000 workers at one plant has been called into question, and at least one other factory owned by the same manufacturer has been certified by the International Labor Organization as free of human rights violations. While Apple certainly isn't the only device maker to outsource labor overseas,

Wired points out that the company's tacit support of possibly-questionable working conditions is all the more ironic in the wake of its Think Different campaign, which featured the socially-conscious Gandhi and Caesar Chavez, among others.

Unfortunately, our own lust for the latest and greatest products only helps fuel the vicious cycle that forces companies to drive down wages and seek the cheapest possible labor, so until we find a way to break our gadget addiction, we'll all be complicit in these practices to some degree.

With the Web, You Can Afford to Dream Big

Late start in the cafe today, but we're going all out. Great weather for coffee drinkers, and people passing through the town.

But now a break, for the patrone, as Steve said the other day. Next week the Patrone gets back to his regular stuff. I was thinking about something pretty neat: We are the only business in the area that earns money by clicks on the web, or how many thousands of views our pages get or by the other commission schemes we have going on gonomad. Our business model is deep into 2006, 'the new world' it's a new paradigm. There is all of a sudden a shared pool of dough, not just mine, or his, or competion against other web businesses. The web industry is better than any I've ever worked in for that.

We love being a part of this, it feels deeply like it will become very lucrative some day. Right now it is slow and steady, nothing earthshattering almost ever for all of the different ad schemes and incentive programs. They are all modest, there is just a lot of them. We try them out, weed them out, then keep and maximize our energy on the ones that pay. That's our secret.

Last week an interesting fellow dropped by the cafe who designs websites and makes custom-made websites using databases. He had heard about us from Dave Caputo, down in Holyoke. When I visited him last week, I spied a huge garden in his front lawn. The Puerto Rican lady who was hoeing said it was Dave's garden. I brought home two tomatoes. Dave's got a full house down there, with 13 desks and talented people streaming in to work on various websites and design projects for Positronic Design.

Rick Newton, the Ipod Expert, May or May Not Be Here

Rick Newton, Rick Newton, where art thou? Rick is away. Rick is an expert in using an Ipod. Tonight I've advertised a class in the cafe called Music on your Ipod, and frankly, I wish I could get Rick over to teach it.

But there is a lesson and a challenge here....and that has potential. I heard Rick is out of town, so he might not be able to come bail me out. With this in mind, I scootered to the Barnes and Noble store in Hadley last night, with the nighttime wind blowing hard against my leather jacket. It was a fun ride, something about riding a scooter at night is exhilarating. When I reached the big store, it was like an oasis, an oasis of like-minded people all reading books and sitting in chairs sipping expensive Starbucks drinks. I picked up a copy of "The Missing Manual for Ipods," published by the fantastically thorough O'Reilly publishing, and took it into the cafe, with a copy of Rick Steve's guide to Germany and Austria.

I thought I should really order something, since I was gonna sit there for a while (and I know how much it bugs me to have people come into our cafe and not order) so I had a hot chai tea and a turkey pannini. The sandwich was pretty good, and so was the chai.

So now I have the book, and in case I can't reach old Rick, the Ipod Expert, I'll find out how to do it myself--I have about 9 hours to study and practice.

The Space Snatchers Run Photos that are TOO BIG!

Gilbert Cranberg is outraged. Outraged over the invasion of the HUGE graphics in newspapers. He writes about it in today's Neiman Watchdog.

"It’s not unusual nowadays for artwork to dwarf, by large margins, the stories they illustrate. The Sunday New York Times is a major case in point. The Aug. 6 Week in Review section, for instance, devoted 34 column inches of text to a piece about Ariel Sharon but all of 55 column inches to two pics of Sharon.

The Space Snatchers attacked again on another story in the same section with a jumbo graphic that stretched the full length of the page for two columns, and then some. The graphic? Of all things, a tape measure, which, if editors had utilized one, they would have found the art had gobbled up nearly twice the space taken by the story.

Times readers tend to be intensely interested in news. They are, by and large, the proverbial news junkies. I question whether they have to be lured to stories by having them jazzed up with massive art. Unless the Times reins in its artists it may have to change its motto to, “All the news that’s fit to print, graphics permitting.”

What You Can't Have Engraved on your Ipod

We visited our friends Tom and Cathie over the holidays, and Tom's generous bosses at his ad agency gave him a new video Ipod with a sentimental engraving on the back. I found out that this service is available from Apple, but they also have rejected many requests. Here are just a few that were prohibited.

* 10,000 Stolen Tunes Inside* ~Anonymous
* Not to be used as a suppository.* ~Umbralkin
* I cost more than three hookers.* ~Umbralkin
* When my battery dies, so will you.* ~Umbralkin
* Not responsible for prolonged damage to the ear & brain.* ~Anonymous
* iPod Limited Edition: Retard Compatible. * ~Jimmy4Kim
* Rip, Mix, & Burn Down RIAA Headquarters* ~Anonymous
* Cocaine and razor blade not included.* ~Carl
* Lick My Shiny Metal Ass* ~Anonymous
* karma is a bitch* ~Anonymous
* Something small & white that Enrique Eglasias Isn't In.* ~wiredgargoyle
* I play with myself.* ~ leonardom
* Steal this? Will self destruct when used.* ~Anonymous
* iMasturbate five times a day* ~rjones
* F uck Osama.* ~Anonymous
* Screwing The RIAA One Download At A Time* ~Mike P.
* I cost more per ounce than cocaine.* ~dgcole
* This iPod will self destruct in 1 year.* ~dale
* Practice safe sex... Go FU*K yourself!* ~whocares590

You Can Get Your Teeth Fixed--If You're Clever

Today I am feeling happy--happy and clever. Last week faithful readers may recall that I had to get a root canal...and ouch! The worst part was paying the bill. But of course, modern dentistry doesn't just end after this four-figure expense. There is first, the temporary, and then the final custom-molded crown to install. Egads! Big Bucks!

As I scootered up Sugarloaf Street, I thought about how I could use my talents and avoid another huge cash outlay--voila! I popped into the dental office across the street from the cafe and asked to see the doc. I know him only through my friends, who are patients, and another who is a neighbor. I know he comes into the cafe once in a while. So I asked him--"Can we make a website for you in trade for this crown?"

He did not hesitate. "Sure! That sounds like a great idea." So our next web project will be to make a dentist office website. It will be fun, and sure beats paying the bill with cash.

Memories of My First Computer

Yardena Arar writes about a sentimental fav--like me, his first computer was a 1982 vintage Kaypro.

When first released, the Kaypro II cost $1795 and, like the Osborne, came with all the productivity software (word processor, spreadsheet) most people would need. Encased in grey and blue metal, the Kaypro was rugged and utilitarian in design: You could latch the keyboard over the 9-inch monochrome display (far roomier than the Osborne's stingy 5-incher) and carry it like a suitcase. But at 26 pounds, it was a heavy piece of luggage. The Kaypro line also represented the last gasp of the CP/M operating system: By the mid-1980s, MS-DOS was already becoming the lingua franca of non-Apple personal computing.

The Kaypro's affordability and out-of-the-box usability was very popular with journalists, including myself: In 1984 I took out a $1600 loan to buy a Kaypro 2x--my first computer--and by then the purchase price also got me a daisy-wheel printer. A year or so later, I became a TV critic for a newspaper, which bought me a Hayes Smartmodem that let me electronically transmit my reviews from home (the modem also enabled my introduction to online computing).

I used that Kaypro and Hayes modem until 1992, when I took out another loan to buy my first IBM clone. I've never again used the same PC for eight years.
--

Watching the Big TV with the Laptop on your Lap

Paul Boutin writes in slate about how convergence, this vaunted soon to be here concept, has stalled out on the runway. It's all about 2 feet and 10 feet, the respective space allotted to the PC and the TV.

"I asked Harry McCracken, the gadget hound who edits PC World, what he thought of that notion (of PC TVs). He dryly handed me a 1992 magazine whose cover depicted Indiana Jones on a PC monitor. "Multimedia Magic with Full PC Power TODAY!" the mag exulted.

That could be a Viiv ad from seven months ago. We've had the hardware to make some sort of PC-driven TV console for at least 20 years. With the help of a simple adapter, you can see anything on your living-room screen that you can see on your PC. Today's computers have the power for HD resolution, high-bandwidth downloads, and house-wide networking. So, why hasn't the Great Convergence happened?

McCracken says most homes are consolidating around a two-hub model. A PC (or Mac) with some multimedia features anchors the home office, while a TV with some computerized gear—-think TiVo, not desktop computer-—owns the living room. Tech marketers talk about the "2-foot interface" of the PC versus the "10-foot interface" of the TV. When you use a computer, you want to lean forward and engage with the thing, typing and clicking and multitasking. When you watch Lost, you want to sit back and put your feet up on the couch.

My tech-savvy friends who can afford anything say they want set up a huge HDTV with TiVo, cable, and DVD players—then sit in front of it with a laptop on their knees. They use Google and AIM while watching TV, but they keep their 2-foot and 10-foot gadgets separate.

To Fight Craig's List, Publish Something Unique

Anil Dash responded a few months back to a long editorial criticizing Craig's list published by Tim Redmond in the San Francisco Bay Guardian.

"And live up to the standard you've set, Tim. You say "And he puts nothing back into the community: He doesn't, for example, hire reporters or serve as a community watchdog."

Craig spends hours every day tracking down scammers and shady characters in communities he doesn't even live in. He turns down more money in buyout offers every year than a typical alt weekly has earned in profits during its entire existence.

But somehow I can still go to the SFBG homepage and see a tired, unpersuasive, preaching-to-the-choir rant about how Bush should be impeached. Even the people who are in complete agreement can find a better version of the same thing in any one of dozens of left-wing blogs. Where's that deep pool of resources you're investing back into your community?

My advice? If you have a newspaper, publish something that's unique to your community; Write something that nobody running a website on the other side of the country would have enough knowledge or information to create. Find a business model that makes your work seem valuable instead of worthless. Free the smart, creative people on your editorial staff to express themselves, especially online, without having to obey seniority rules or arbitrary limits.

And realize that the reason Craig is eating your lunch is not merely because his information is better, or because he cares about being online and you don't, but because he's given people a place to connect with each other, instead of just being preached to by people too arrogant to stay curious.

Arabs Guilty Only of Making a Living

Niraj Warikoo, of the Detroit Free Press, writes about another rush to judgement against American Arabs.

"It may seem unusual for someone to buy hundreds of cell phones at a time, but metro Detroiters of Middle Eastern descent say that practice is part of a long tradition of entrepreneurship in Arab-American communities.

Many new immigrants or emerging businessmen earn money by buying the cell phones and then selling them to gas stations, distributors or stores.

It's called capitalism, Arab Americans say.

In Michigan, "you can talk to almost any family in the Arab-American community, and they all have some relative in the cell phone business," said Warren David, a Lebanese American from Northville.

If police knew that, perhaps five Arab Americans would not have been arrested last week on terrorism charges after they bought hundreds of cell phones, said David, who recently sold his cell phone business to an Iraqi American.

"If they understood us a little more, they might not jump the gun so quickly," he said.

Many people of Arab descent "are traders by nature," Beydoun said. "That entrepreneurship should not be linked to terrorism just because they are Arab American."

"Nobody Works as Hard as We Do"

Today's a wonderfully cool August day, as Steph works her first morning shift. "I like working mornings," she said brightly. "It's nice being so busy."

The Recorder had a story about my favorite lunch spot in town: the BBA Deli and Market, on Thayer Street, South Deerfield.

The BBA is a step back in time...owned by two friends , Alina Warzynski and Bozena Giedrowicz, it's a totally Polish 1960s experience. Wooden floors, a big glass counter, dusty old groceries on the shelves...no credit cards or checks, just cash.

The line forms about 11:45 am, people lining up for American Chop suey, or creamy chicken, or sausage and peppers. They've tried to hire help, 'but nobody worked hard like us,' they told reporter Patrick O'Connor. 'On a typical day, the two women start at 7:30 am and prepare 25 hot dishes--from Polish specialties like kielbasa with onions, to salads, and soup and galumpkis.'

This isn't fast food at all, in fact each patron waits patiently as the huge sandwiches are made in the back. It's comfort food and farmer food, and it's simply the best food in town. It's the kind of food many locals remember their grandmothers making, and it feels good every time I stop by for lunch.

Talking with Kevin about Cyprus on St. Louis Radio

A long, long day is finally coming to an end. Relaxing at 9 Mountain Rd. after a day working at the cafe and doing all kinds of things. I got a call at about 4 from Kevin McCarthy, he does a travel radio show in St. Louis. We traveled together in Malaysia, and he wanted Kent and me to be begin contributing to his show. So Kentski phoned in from San Fran, talking about his time in Jordan with Bedouins, and I talked up a trip I went on in February to Cyprus.

It was fun, and it helped that I had my story printed out so I could add details about meze, their famous multi-course dinners, and Pafos, the British flavored seaside resort we visited, and the wonderful windswept Temple of Apollo.

We had a birthday party at the cafe for Aaron, who just turned 12, and invited five of his pals to come play Runescape on our computers. The kids had a blast and it was worth our while. There was a time when we thought we'd have to buy expensive new video cards and all sorts of different shooter games to make money with this, but we found it just takes finding regular customers who want to bring their friends to a party in the cafe.

Friday's a Day to Make Someone's Day

I made Larry Parnass' day today when I called him with a plum assignment: travel to Switzerland and write a story for GoNOMAD. I think he's going to enjoy the trip, and the tourism board was pleased to hear we could send a writer and publish a story on GoNOMAD. He is an editor at the Gazette in Northampton.

I corresponded with an author today, and mistakenly sent him an email intended to be sent to my associate editor, Steve. It was about our pay rates, the message was not a secret. The author told me that after his article was published on GoNOMAD he got a call from a Greek Tourism website. He got hired to write for them.

We love making these kinds of connections--that is what makes running a website and cafe so much fun. Looking forward to a busy weekend with lots of highlights: our Circulo Italiano Club picnic, some outdoor theater in Ashfield, and visiting relatives.

I Swear to Do the Right Thing for the Energy Committee

This cool weather has brought in so many new customers at the cafe. Our business has never been so great since we opened in March. We still see many folks who set foot in the cafe for the first time. One senior citizen came by with a local theater program he was offering ads in. I bought one for the cafe, and he said this was his first time in...He lives on the street just opposite the cafe. But he doesn't drink coffee.

We are doing well with the new breakfast sandwiches, maybe it's because of the farm eggs and those very light textured NY bagels. That's a relief: figuring out the food for the cafe has been the hardest part of the business.

Today I scootered over to the town hall to get sworn in. I'm on the town of Deerfield's Energy Resources Committee, and I raised my right hand and Mary Stokarski swore my allegiance to do a good job for the town of Deerfield. Later I glanced inside a storeroom, where on all four sides were leather-bound books denoting deaths, births and other records, going back centuries. The other clerk waved me away and said 'please go around to the other side of the counter' when she saw me looking in.

The Short Leader of Iran Speaks to Mike

Mike Wallace, 88, has retired but just scored an interview with Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Here's some of what he noticed about this villianized leader.

"He's actually, in a strange way, he's a rather attractive man, very smart, savvy, self-assured, good looking in a strange way," Wallace said. "He's very, very short but he's comfortable in his own skin."

Despite problems with translation -- there was only one translator for a time during the interview -- Wallace said Ahmadinejad was patient.

"He couldn't have been more accomodating. He had a good time doing the interview," Wallace said. And he believes that it was Ahmadinejad's idea to do the interview. He acknowledged that he had become a much-desired interview subject but told the veteran CBS journalist that he remembered a discussion the two had over a year ago when Ahmadinejad was in New York.

"I don't know if you remember this or not but you and I had a talk over breakfast at the United Nations," Ahmadinejad told Wallace. "Do you remember that you asked me at the time if I would sit down with you ... and I said by all means, let's do it." Wallace said he was surprised that Ahmadinejad had remembered.

As for retiring, Wallace said that he isn't having a happy retirement because he likes the job. He does acknowledge, particularly in this last voyage, that the airplane travel is "interminable" and the major reason why he wanted to retire in the first place. But he said there were other stories that he wanted to do.

"When you love what you do, it's not work," Wallace said.

Bombs on Planes, Root Canals, and Sweden Awaits

Cindy came and alerted me while I was in the shower this morning, urgent news about another travel bummer....but this time fortunately, not a tragedy. It seems that we all must now remove all liquid items from our carry-ons, because some wackos in the UK tried to blow up 21 planes using liquid explosives. We'll post some words of advice on this on the GoNOMAD site this week, it is so sad that the actions of a few nutcases can create such havoc as four-hour delays, ridiculously stringent regulations that the law-abiding now much dutifully follow. Now grandma's hair gel is a bomb. Good god!

I am on my way to the dentist for a root canal today. That is never as bad as people think, since they knock your tooth out and it makes the sensitive tooth feel better. But it is fun to tell people that 'cause it elicits such sympathy.

Another interesting development today is that we might be spending Christmas in Sweden. The tourism board there said "Nice website" when we contacted them...now we're figuring out the details on when we can go. I can't wait to see Scandinavia, even though it will be pretty dark, it should be a memorable experience!

Have You Ever Been Experienced?

I was at a meeting of travel writers last November in Niagara Falls, and there was a man at lunch who was talking about being at Burning Man. This festival of weirdness, drugs, sex and nudity takes place a week before Labor day in Nevada's Black Rock desert. I wanted to publish a story about it on GoNOMAD, but what he sent was too heavy on his own sexual conquests and too light on practical and useful stuff.

So today I found what I wanted back then, and posted a story about this amazing event on GoNOMAD. It might even run in the Valley Advocate, it's really up their alley. Here is a snip of the text written by Molly Steenson.

"You belong here and you participate. You're not the weirdest kid in the classroom — there's always somebody there who's thought up something you never even considered. You're there to breathe art. Imagine an ice sculpture emitting glacial music — in the desert. Imagine the man, greeting you, neon and benevolence, watching over the community. You're here to build a community that needs you and relies on you.

You're here to survive. You slather yourself in sunblock before the sun's rays turn up full blast. You bring enough food, water, and shelter because the elements of the new planet are harsh, and you will find no vending.

You're here to create. Since nobody at Burning Man is a spectator, you're here to build your own new world. You've built an egg for shelter, a suit made of light sticks, a car that looks like a shark's fin. You've covered yourself in silver, you're wearing a straw hat and a string of pearls, or maybe a skirt for the first time. You're broadcasting Radio Free Burning Man — or another radio station.

You're here to experience. Ride your bike in the expanse of nothingness with your eyes closed. Meet the theme camp — enjoy Irrational Geographic, relax at Bianca's Smut Shack and eat a grilled cheese sandwich. Find your love and understand each other as you walk slowly under a parasol. Wander under the veils of dust at night on the playa.

You're here to celebrate. On Saturday night, we'll burn the Man. As the procession starts, the circle forms, and the man ignites, you experience something personal, something new to yourself, something you've never felt before. It's an epiphany, it's primal, it's newborn. And it's completely individual."

The Lives of Dwarfs are Different

Little People were on TV tonight, on PBS. One dwarf recalls being taken to the hospital when he was 18, and told by the doctors, 'sorry there's nothing we can do...you'll always be a dwarf.' He said he decided then and there 'to be the best dwarf I could be."

Many other dwarfs recall being surprised when they saw a room ful of other little people, at the 1981 Little People's Convention. To see the little people interacting with regular sized folks made each dwarf much more affected than before.

One women dreamed of running. If i had long strong legs, I've love to run, she said. Many dwarfs talked about the operations they had to have, the braces that unsuccessfully kept their spines from curving.

You get left out in dating, some dwarfs realized, as they grew older. It's ok before that, but when people start pairing up, dwarfs are not paired up. One pretty red haired dwarf married a regular sized person. She said it was nice that he could lift her up on stools, and protect her when she walked on the street. Her parents were disappointed that she got together with a non-little person.

A strikingly pretty Indian dwarf's father tried to find her a mate in India. But since they don't educate many dwarfs there, the best they could find was a man with a 6th grade education. She was an engineer, so she said no. But she found a perfect mate at a Little Person convention a few years later.

Homesteading in Downtown Springfield, MA

Today's Springfield Republican included a story about a family that's urban homesteading in the heart of Springfield, MA. Many people like me have thought about how nice it would be to simplify right down to growing one's own food, and spending no money on cars, clothes or gadgets. That's what life is like for Daniel Staub and Kristin Brennan, of Marlborough Street.

They have a large one-acre garden, and cut wood to burn in their woodstove. They raise chickens and even shut off their refrigerator in the winter, storing cold foods, vegetables and canned preserves in their cellar. The patronize mom and pop shops nearby, and pften take busses and bikes to get around, sharing one small car between them. Their challenges are different from most of ours. like how to get around without a car, and making sure their crops grow, but they lack one problem that vexes many--money and debts.

One thing that's tough is explaining their natural lifestyle to their relatives, who often want to give them gifts. They don't desire anything new, they prefer used. They aren't on a soapbox about their life, but recognize that it encourages community and embraces nature. "This is a great way to live," said Staub.

"Yes Chef! Yes Chef!" --Trying to Keep Him Happy

Last night was cooler so it was easier to sleep. Still, I stayed up way too late and part of the night was spent watching "Hell's Kitchen"on Fox where the mean chef tortures his wannabe chefs while diners wait for entrees in the fancy dining room. This guy is so mean it makes you cringe when he's yelling at one of the women chefs: "You fat cow! Where is the salmon?!?"

"Yes Chef! Yes Chef!" is all they can utter, as he gets in their faces trying to crack them like a Parris Island drill sergeant. But these chefs are fighting for a break...a chance to run a multi-million dollar restaurant in 'Vegas. So they'll take all that "look at me, look right into my eyes" crap that Chef doles out. It's a rough and tumble world in that hot kitchen, and when one woman named Virginia ran out of cream, you just about wanted to bring it to her, as Chef came 'round the corner with a bee in his bonnet screaming "nobody is safe, nobody!!"

Today at the cafe we broke all of our records for one shift. Wow! People are loving it here and it's nice to see this kind of progress. I think the breakfast sandies and the big huge coffees are making a difference. Frappuccinos are next!

If You Want Your Passport without a Chip--Act Now

Wired news reports today that passports are changing--big time--in the US.

"After much ado, the United States has begun or will begin issuing passports with RFID chips in them. The passports now have some anti-skimming features, including Basic Access Control and some sort of internal tin-foil hat.

But the chips are readily clonable, and some security experts still aren't sure they are a good idea. Also, it's just plain creepy to be on the same level as a pallet from WalMart.

You might still be able to get a passport without the chip and that passport will be good for 10 years -- long enough to get you to the point where new passports will be RFID chips implanted in your neck.

Travel privacy guru Edward Hasbrouck had a good post up in May about how to maximize your chances of getting a chip-less passport, which involves a little extra money anda refundable ticket. The trick still might work.

You can also make sure your passport lasts longer by including with your application a written letter that says you need extra pages.

The government's page on getting a new passport is here, and renewals are here, but so far, the State Department hasn't returned my call asking if they are actually issuing the passports, though the last report I read was that they were starting with the Denver office."

Passing the Baby Around

Mark Helprin's 1983 novel, Winter's Tale was voted the single best work of American fiction published in the last 25 years by readers of the NY Times Book Review. He sat down with Doublethink's Kelly Jane Torrance, here is an excerpt about why he doesn't like parties. At all.

"What I don’t like is the social stuff. And that’s my problem. And I know it—I know exactly why. It’s simple. I’ve known this for a long time. When I was less than two, my parents had an apartment. We lived on Central Park West. Way high up, beautiful, view of the park. And my father was in the film business, my mother was an actress. Their friends were actors, film people, bohemians, and those people really know how to party. They’d drink and they’d gamble and they’d have affairs. That’s what their life was like.

And one night, I was awakened by a noise. There were maybe, in a room about the half the size of this one—you see that column there, go across, maybe one and a half times as big as that—there must have been seventy or eighty people. And they’d all been drinking. And you know what happens in a restaurant, people yell, because they have to, to be heard, and then the volume goes up, so everyone yells and it gets louder and louder until people are sitting there screaming at one another. That’s what happens in many restaurants, and it’s kind of good because it’s very easy, they’re all lubricated with alcohol. A tremendous amount of alcohol.

And I wandered in, it must have been 1949, and someone said, “Look at him!” You know, it’s a cute baby. And they picked me up and they passed me from person to person. And everyone wanted to hold the baby. It terrified me so much that I have never gotten over it. Never. Not ever. So, except for work, when it’s required, I have never been to a party. Never in my life.

Sex in a Gondola above France

ETurbo News usually sends puffy press releases about Dubai and some meeting in another Arab land. Today they send this little ditty about a chance encounter in a ski gondola above France.

"Andy Sinclair reached his peak while dangling high above the Alps. The gondola podule things took four people at a time, and I ended up standing next to the blonde. When the next empty one came round I slid my skis into the holder on the side and clambered in. As I was not part of her group, I expected her to wait and fill the next one with her pals; but, in one of the most opportune and bountiful milliseconds of my life, she smiled and stepped forward into my carriage.

The doors closed and we were jolting up the mountain, alone together. “Hi, I’m Natasha. You’re in my hotel, aren’t you?” I mumbled a yes. “This is very slow. They should spend some money and get us up quicker — there’s skiing and drinking to be done!” “Oh, I don’t mind,” I replied. “Swinging over the Alps with you isn’t my idea of a waste of time.”

I didn’t mean it to be a line. It was just the truth. A moment later, the lift juddered to a halt, as they often do. We began to discuss what kind of things we might have time to do before we reached the top. Apply sun cream, reclip boots, that kind of thing.

Suddenly, she said: “How about sex with a stranger?” Clearly, she was speaking hypothetically. “Well, maybe, but you could get caught out if it set off again!” I said brightly. She looked straight into my eyes. She was serious. A second later, we were tearing off each other’s skiwear. The sight of her beautiful body in the chill air, surrounded by mountains, is a memory I still cherish. It was broad daylight, we were total strangers, and we were swinging above the valleys in perfect harmony.

The gondola did set off before we would have wished, but, such was the intensity of the moment, we hardly noticed. As we approached the top station, we parted and threw on our clothes, and managed to emerge with enough apparel attached to appear merely to have equipment problems.

Who Goes There, Who Would Stone My Vessel!?

Last night we got dressed up and walked down the venerable, wood paneled Navigator, on the Edgartown Harbor. The hostess was from Russia, blond and very thin. She laughed since we had barged all the way in without a table. "I put you on the list," she told us. Later when we were seated, we feasted on seafood, and as we sat back, suddenly, a voice on a loudspeaker. It was coming from the yacht docked about 15 feet away. "Whoever threw that rock better come up here right now and make yourself known!!" boomed the voice, looking up, it was the angry captain of the attacked vessel. Then he flipped on a powerful search light, mounted on his bow, and moved it around remotely, up there in the wheelhouse.

The rock throwing perp never showed his face, but the diners around us murmered, "he's out of line," and "that's too much," as they watched with amusement. The searchlight's beam flashed across the Harborside Inn's pool area, then went dark. The captain gave up his search and joined his boatmates back down on the deck to have a drink.

The yacht in question was named Allie's Sea Shed, and was much smaller than the giant vhite one docked just next to it. There the windows were dark, the owners probably out for an expensive dinner in Edgartown.

The Remains of the Sandcastle Contest on South Beach

Today the heat broke, and it is overcast and barely 80. A relief yet I enjoyed feeling that heat, thinking about February and the many times I shiver throughout the winter months in New England.

We rode bikes down to South Beach, and were greeted by friendly lifeguards high up in their lifeguard stand. Brittany, Corey and Megan said "Welcome to South Beach!" We asked them about the sandcastle contest that had taken place yesterday. There were remnants of the works, a big mermaid, a dog with a sand inscription, "just married," and along further, the work of a real pro. It must be those turrets, those winding little staircases, those chimneys and those realistic sand windows--all the marks of a person dedicated to this art and not just entertaining his kids.

We rode back home and worked up a good sweat here as the humidity is still high without the blazing sun. I sneaked again over to our neighbors so I can type and get on line tapping into their home Wireless network. God I love WiFi!

How to Live Until You're 104

Yesterday's NY Times included a story by Janny Scott about Brooke Astor, 104, who has been in the news about a lawsuit filed alleging bad things against her 84-year-old producer son. The story mentions that there are 1253 women aged 100-104 living in NY, and just 104 who are between 105 and 109.

"Mrs Astor, the philanthropist and socialite, took her Dubonnet in moderation, practiced yoga, gave up smoking a lifetime ago. She swam laps all winter, walked with her dogs, had flocks of friends. She was disciplined, curious, flirtatious. She had a mission She was resilient. She never let herself, she said, become depressed.

An expert on aging weighs in: "I have no one who was exercising, I don't have vegetarians. Nobody ate yogurt or anything like that. If you have longevity genes, well, lucky you. If you don't, you know what to do."

Elizabeth Corbett, who worked as a dressmaker for Mrs Astor, said Astor used to advise her to take a vacation. "She said, 'Elizabeth, you have to get to the shore, you have to get to the mountains, you have to get to four different places to stay alive. You have to refresh the body and the mind." And did Elizabeth take this advice? "Of course not," she said, "I didn't have the money or the time."

Things You Read on Planes

What I learned from reading today's Daily Telegraph, en route from Larnaca, Cyprus to London:

In the Philippines, a large worm is devastating the centuries old system of terraces, upon which farmers grow their rice crops. Because of loss of forest habitat, a vociferous worm that grows up to six inches long is burrowing into the sides of the terraces and forcing them to burst. The cost to repair the neatly built rows is six times as much as the farmers yield in a year. Few of the younger villagers are interested in fixing the terraces or sticking around to farm them, so it is feared that the terraces and the farming way of life will disappear. There is hope that a rat that eats the worms but not the rice may offer some hope.

Finally, it is a sad day for Oliver. The little tyke who played The Artful Dodger in the film Oliver Twist died, and it was a sad tale of a childhood prodigy falling hard. Jack Wild was on top of the world when the movie came out and he was nominated for an Oscar, and went on to play other roles, even moving to the US to be on a TV show. But he drank, smoked and recalled wild parties "where LSD, pot and cocaine were served in little bowls on the coffee table," and he got cancer of throat and lung. He was unable to speak for the last part of his life, and died at only 53.

She Finally Got Up her Nerve and Plunged In

The sultry afternoon lingered as we remained on vacation time...watches left on the bureau, looking only at that spot of white on my wrist. Walking through Edgartown, to the Reading Room, perched on its own causeway in the harbor, 'no trespassing signs' delineating the places where only Members are welcome. Cummings Way Neighbor Anne MacKenzie once told me what it takes to become a member and thus be eligible to put on Nantucket red pants and a tie and sip a cocktail at their Thursday parties. "You have to have three people who are in the club nominate you. Oh well.

We drove to the bridge that connects Edgartown and Oak Bluffs, where a high wooden railing beckons. We saw a mom and her two kids, she gripping the metal sign, that said 'no diving' waiting to get up the nerve to jump. I clambored up, and feeling the 90 degree heat, just up and jumped, delicious in my splash into the channel that was sluicing inward to Seggaponet Pond. She couldn't rally her nerve, and stood up there, in her modest pink suit, while her kids kept jumping in again and again.

We crossed over to the other beach, and looked across the rocks. My friend Jack got into a wetsuit and I told him it looked like 1890. Across the channel, all of the cars were for regular folks, they were old minivans and super old Volvos. This beach was where the workers who do drywall, and paint ceilings and drive truck come, and there they were, throwing a huge stick for a german shepard to retrieve, against the waves.
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45 minutes later, she finally got the nerve, and jumped joyously into the water, with her eyes closed. Bravo Mom! Her kids shouted and she bobbed to the surface and wiped her face, and then she smiled.

The Man Israel Wants to Find Most

Sitting in the heated up house here on Cummings Way, reading the Wall St. Journal. The name Imad Mugniyah came up in a story about Hezbollah. He is the mastermind, schemer, bomber extraordinaire of Lebanon's Hezbollah. Karby Laggett writes about this devious scary dude.

"The man in charge of this building effort is Mr. Mugniyah, a long time hezbollah operative who at one point in the 1980s who at one point lived in Iran. Today the 44-year-old ranks near the top of the most wanted terrorists, with a $5 million bounty on his head. Israel has also targeted him for assassination. A Lebanese citizen who once served as a bodyguard for Arafat, he systematically erased all his person al records, school registration etc, according to intelligence officials.

The only known photo of this man is 20 years old, taken before it is believed he changed his appearance by plastic surgery. He designed a drone airplane that doesn't deliver bombs, but makes so much noise that it becomes an unnerving prescence in Israeli skies. Hezbollah also moves its weapons and missiles around on donkeys, trained to deliver the goods with no human leading them.

Finding our Own Little Beach at Katama Point

Yesterday in the stultifying heat, we made our way over to the outer harbor, to an oasis that the Land Bank has provided in and among huge waterside houses of the rich. A little path winds it's way to the shoreline, and an osprey nest is located on the winding grass path. Up above the chicks squawked for mom, they wanted more fish.

At the end of the path was a staircase, it led down to the calm harbor, the far outer edge of Edgartown harbor. In the distance to the right we could see South Beach, where everyone else goes to swim. We had our little rocky beach to ourselves. Jack Laura, Cindy and I floated in the shallow not-so-cold water and watched our feet down below where our heads bobbed.

Later that night it was time for bluefish and the native salad, and time to tell Laura more about this island. It was her first visit, and she was entranced with the lovely houses and the beauty all around us. Today is another sultry day, no idea what time it is, only time to get the newspaper, hang on the porch and maybe do another swim in our private beach at Katama point.

Tony Sings at 80 and the World Loves Him

We've showered twice already today as the heat blazes down on us here on the island. Inside the house in the shade it's not so bad, and we've got time to read the NY Times. A story today mentioned Tony Bennett's 80th birthday tomorrow, and included these words about this true legend.

"A quintessential Tony Bennett moment comes at the end of "It's a Wonderful World," the tender duet he recorded with KD Lang for their 2002 Louis Armstrong tribute album.

After they swap greeting card doggerel celebrating "trees of green," and "skies of blue" Bennett remarks with a boyish enthusiasm, "Don't you think Satchmo was right?...later, in the quiet, choked-up voice of a man visiting the grave of a beloved father figure, declares, "You were right, Pops"

Mr Bennett, who turns 80 on Thursday, has steadfastly remained the embodiment of heart in popular music. He pours it into every note he sings and every phrase he swings with a sophistication that deepens his unguarded emotional directness. In the polluted sea of irony, bad faith and grotesque attitudinizing that pop music has become, he is a rock of integrity."

Watching a Cash Cow Earn its Keep in MV

Had to drive out for supplies today, so I entered the steamy car for a short drive to Morning Glory Farm, in Edgartown. The place must be a cash cow, as the parking lot is continually full of huge SUVs and the place is mobbed with soccer moms and rich vacationing folks like me who want to score greens for their houseparties.

At the entrance to the farm, a woman was watering flowers, with a protruding belly and tattoos all up and down her arms. I thought she must be a Brazilian, as the face and manner looked more like a worker than a coed who wanted to spend a summer working on a farm in MV, and the tats made me question where she was from.

I watched as she sprayed a dog with the flowing end of the sprinkler hose, and joked with another member of the farm staff, siddling up against him with her big belly. Inside I gathered island corn, a baguette, island tomatoes, island lettuce and some avocadoes and lemons from 'away' and paid my $29.00. I think the average tab is twice mine. This must be a great business this time of year, and these hardworking farmers deserve every nickle.

The World Stares into its Cellphone

Everyone here, it seems, is staring into a cellphone. Whether it's burley contractor dude, pausing on a shovel, or high cheekboned Greenwich second-wife, in her white Yukon that barely fits on the little Edgartown streets, one and all they're staring into that little one-inch screen. Contemplating a call, perhaps another call, perhaps wishing someone else would call.

We went to South Beach this morning, a fluttery breeze blew hot air at us and we were glad we didn't try to bring newspapers, and wrestle them down in our arms. No we had novels; me one about a Cuban baseball player who returns to the island and finds the ghosts of his former lover photographer and revolutionary Marlena Fonseca, and Cindy, Hillary's autobiography. She said it is a great read.

At the beach, red suited lifeguards corralled a Portuguese man-o-war jellyfish in a bucket, a crowd gathered to look at it in fear. Signs said not to dig big holes, but many kids were digging down to China, with dads inside the holes. The water gushed over and into these foxholes when the waves came up, down the beach they were getting ready to have a contest for the best sandcastle.

Down in Menemsha, Larsen's beckons with briny clams on the halfshell and hot steamers and lobster so fresh it's still talkin'.

Scuttle or Move Your Fleet, Or We Will Sink It

Out on the porch at 8 am, and the sun is just starting to broil. We readjust our chairs to get out of the strong rays, and I am reading a letter to the editor of the Wall St. Journal about World War II.

Letter writer Elliott Hinkes MD, from LA, compares the Lebanese to the French, for their distinctive way of acquiessing to the enemy. As the Lebanese defense minister promised to use their regular army not against Hezbollah, but against the Israelis the situation harkens back to the 40s.

With France overrun by Nazi Germany in 1940, Winston Churchill made a decision to sink the French fleet of warships, anchored off the coast of North Africa, lest it fall into the hands of the enemy. This was after the French had refused numerous entreaties to do the deed themselves, or surrender the ships to the British, or at least moor them in a safe harbor out of the Nazi's way.

"Almost 1300 French sailors were killed, the fleet was largely destroyed, and the French gallantly responded by immediately and peevishly bombing British-held Gibraltar."