a time at home

Since returning home last week for the longest period since January I have been reveling in ubiquitous vegetables. Indeed, on my way home from the airport, I found myself across the street from the Midtown Farmers' Market. With a house devoid of food, I was an easy mark for the vendors pushing delights in greens and reds and yellows.

Home in the kitchen at last, within hours I had turned this:

into this:

Since my first efforts, I have made use of lost time, soon those outputs should appear here as well, perhaps on Six Pictures.

going for the gold

Flipping idly past Olympic gymnastics coverage last night in my hotel room, I briefly watched what appeared to be pre-teen Chinese girl contort herself in ways both majestic and disgusting. The commentators marveled at her athleticism and flexibility. Moments later they were discussing how Chinese girls are fed into China’s gymnastics machine at age three.

Amidst the occasional discussions of China’s human rights violations during these Olympics, I do not understand how we can celebrate a sport like gymnastics. Children too young to comprehend their fate are enslaved in training camps, spending their formative years in training so rigorous many might consider it inhumane. For the gold medalists, perhaps it is a worthy trade-off, sacrificing a more normal childhood to attain greatness.

But what for those who aren’t on the Chinese Olympic team? What becomes of those children, forced into the same life, but without the profile and rewards of success? Perhaps their suffering is inconsequential compared to that of dissenters, Christians or Tibetans. But the tragedies of that suffering are recognized and condemned, and not glorified before the world, remarked upon as an achievement for a society, and rewarded with gold.

happy birthday waylon!

If he were Jesus, today begins A.D.

today is the greatest

Today, it was easy to rise from bed, to drive to work. Today, small talk with coworkers is easy, not irritating. Today, the television spewing their vile interpretation of news fail to annoy.

Today I'm coming home.

a stark contrast

In my job as the Media Analysis expert in West Virginia, I sit in a cube with six televisions. On one TV, CSPAN-2 the U.S. Senate has voted to gut the 4th Amendment to the Constitution in the form of its FISA bill. On two others, CNN and MSNBC are "breaking" "news" about the Jon Benet Ramsey case. The last "breaking" "news" we saw on this case was the false confession of a crazy man, "news" that dominated national headlines for a week until sheepishly it ceased, perhaps out of shame.

Good work "news" organizations, good work.

away again

Tomorrow morning I leave Philadelphia, where I've been for a total of ten weeks, for West Virginia. The same storms responsible for some of the flooding and tornadoes plaguing the Midwest also struck the mountain state. While I'm sure I'll soon lament the lack of culture and cuisine, I am eager to leave the monotony of the Regional Office for the pace of a disaster.

Popped! Philadelphia

Lamenting the Dutch's loss earlier, I sought consolation and music at Popped!. I arrived at the Drexel campus to see Crystal Castles (pictured above) take the stage. The booming base driving the crowd as the lead singer bleated into the microphone. Full of life and energy, and definitely worth seeing in a more contained environment where their music would even more easily consume the crowd.

Following them, Mates of State, disappointed. Their cute synth-pop, delicate and intricate on their excellent album Re-Arrange Us melded into a blob of noise. At times they brought a cellist on-stage, but she was drowned out and barely audible. The trumpeter suffered similarly. Clearly better suited in-studio, much like the Dutch, their effort lacked rhythm and couldn't deliver at key moments.

More than the music, I was struck by the youth of the crowd, or perhaps by my agedness. Not a surprise that a concert on a college campus would be populated with kids, but it's a scarce occasion that I'm considerably older than 90 percent of a crowd. I fear this will become less and less rare as time continues to pass.

educational too

Not only do they provide top class football, the Euros are educational too. European footballers have the option of playing for either the nation in which they were born, or the nation of either parent. Kâzim Richards, an Englishman, decided after not qualifying for England's national side, to join Turkey, where one if his parents was born.

To gain Turkish citizenship, he, as all Turks, had to take a Muslim last name. And so Kâzim Kâzim was born. Good to know that if I suddenly become among the best footballers in the world I could join the Germans, perennial favorites in both Euro and World Cup competitions. I suppose I'd better hit the training grounds.

Euro 2008

Today concludes the group stage of Euro 2008. The football tournament, a contest between European national teams, has been thrilling in the preliminary rounds, each days games offering something marvelous. The Dutch, a side close to my heart both because of their open, aggressive style of play and the wonder of their country, have been dominant, scoring brilliantly and with ease. Spain has also impressed, though they will be tested early in the knockout rounds, where they often falter.

With matches daily, keeping up with the tournament has been a challenge, particularly with its matches played during the work day. Fortunately, ESPN has been much better about broadcasting this tournament, and most afternoons, a match greets me upon my return to my hotel.

Perhaps the greatest appeal to international football tournaments like Euro and the World Cup is the ceaseless stream of matches, offering neutral fans little respite. When most matches are of this high quality, played daily, fans can barely recover from the drama of one match before being thrust into another, then another.

The schedule also inhibits the endless post- and pre-game analysis, most of which offers no insight. What’s left is sport of the highest quality and drama, with few distractions. Amazing what happens when commerce isn’t allowed to gut the essence of athletics.

the wilson wedding

The ceremony, held in the garden outside the Gale Mansion was brief and a bit moving. Behind Andy, I watched Angela looking him from, her gaze brimming with love and joy and elation.

As we sat down to dinner, the skies opened and it began to rain, then hail. Timing everything, an hour earlier and we would all have been scrambling, instead it was a bit of entertainment while the food arrived.

Andy's family was surprised and thrilled my toast wasn't vulgar or inappropriate. It seemed a real and serious concern given how many people made comments to me about it at the groom's dinner the night before. Her dad then stole the show with an emotional speech only a father can give.

Now they're in Europe, married and I'm back in Philadelphia.