What was it like growing up in the 1970s?

February 4, 2012 jkkblog 2 Comments

(This was originally a message board post people seemed to really enjoy, so I felt free to republish it here.)

When the 1970s began, Vietnam was still going on but the hippies were starting to thin out. It took pot a few years to grow mainstream (by my early high school years late in the decade it seemed like I was the only one not smoking it). Then Nixon got in trouble and resigned. I got a pretty good laugh over his later rehabilitation, given how deeply and nationally he was excoriated. In a sense, he was the initiator of the modern political climate, where the good of the nation has ceased to factor and the only thing that matters is beating the other guy. This was confirmed when Ford promptly turned around and pardoned him.

The energy crisis was just unreal. What most people do not realize today is that, in terms of relative purchasing power, the $4/gal spikes a couple years ago were probably less dramatic than what we saw in the early 70s, with gas lines around the block and rationing in place. Just as when gas was hovering around $0.80 in the late 1990s, it was actually a lot cheaper than the $0.25/gal I remember as the lowest price in my lifetime’s awareness (late 60s). As ever, most people simply have no idea how to compare costs and values from one era to the next.

One big kerfluffle was the gas pumps. They were not digital–the numbers rolled on a spindle inside–nor were they equipped to show prices over $0.99.9. When gas cleared a buck a gallon, just about every gas pump in the country required a retrofit. What a goat rodeo.

A lot of new stuff came along: the desktop digital calculator (we were awed), video games (wanting an Atari in the mid-70s was like wanting a PS3 a couple of years back, only more so because there was nothing before it), and the fadeout of party lines. (Yes, they were a prime tool for snooping on your neighbors’ conversations, and yes, that did occur. It was a punishable offense to fail to yield a party line if someone declared an emergency.)

Carter got elected just as the post-Vietnam national malaise was settling in. It lasted into the early 1980s. Might have been the worst president ever for the time in which we got him. Inflation up to double digits. Interest rates for borrowing up in the same neck of the woods. People with decent credit and income who do not buy houses now, at today’s depressed mortgage rates and prices, simply have no idea of the historic buying opportunity before them, perhaps because it was before they were born. Carter’s focus was to rag on the rest of the world to have better human rights. (Everyone ignored him.) That didn’t do jack for our flopping national morale. The modern deification of the troops? Unthinkable. Did not exist. The military was outdated, had too many druggies, and the junior officer corps in particular was shaky. Good thing the Soviets didn’t invade West Germany in 1976–they probably would have won. Happy Bicentennial.

Then comes the second defining event of the era after the energy crisis, the Iran hostage crisis. On top of that, we couldn’t even make a rescue attempt without a desert disaster. In 1979, “person who burns flags” became synonymous in many minds with “Iranian” in many minds, and the term “Iran” acquired a lasting toxicity akin to that which “Jane Fonda” has with Vietnam vets. Every night on the national news, Walter Cronkite: “And that’s the way it is, this 300th (or whatever) day of captivity for the American hostages in Iran.” When I see Iran talking about getting nuclear weapons, it proves to me that they understand us as poorly as we understand them. They truly believe that we think like them–like pragmatic Near Easterners interested in bargaining, who understand the game. They have no idea. A lot of us in those days felt so infuriated that we would have welcomed and endorsed an air attack on Iran’s population centers with weapons of mass destruction (not a chance under Carter), and some of us (emotionally, if not practically–and not everyone looks at such matters with a practical side) think it’s long overdue. That generation–mine–is now starting to run the country. If Iran had any idea of how much lasting loathing it created by taking and keeping the hostages, and how gladly some people would open up on them even thirty years later, they would turn pale. They would immediately shut down anything and everything nuclear. They would not do the least thing to give an excuse to people who, at least on an emotional level, would love a pretext to even that score with modern weapons. I’m not saying this is the right idea for us as a nation today (at least not with my rational side…), just pointing out what kind of fire they are playing with. If they knew, and they are sane (and I think they are, at least when it comes to their own survival), they would throw a bucket of water on that fire and never light it again.

That’s part of the reason the 1980 Olympic ice hockey victory meant so much, why everyone can remember where he or she was when we beat the USSR (probably glued to the TV; it should not be forgotten that we still had to beat a tough Finnish team to win the gold). We felt like a country that couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t even stop a bunch of radicals from invading our embassy and humiliating our people, couldn’t rescue them without screwing up, completely demoralized. Then came the Olympics and something finally went right. I would describe the 1970s as a time of national pessimism, a sense that we had already lost the Cold War and were just waiting to be the last non-socialist country in the world, a time of things going wrong and government unable or unwilling to do a thing to fix them. We know now, of course, that it didn’t all work out that way. But that’s how it felt at the time.

I disliked the 1970s deeply. I remember them as a nearly unbroken string of bad news, failed leadership, and general impotence. I’d never want them back again. While we had a lot more freedom as kids–we were essentially still as free-range as kids of earlier decades–I for one had the sense that my parents’ generation had completely boned the pooch and was going to leave it up to mine to clean up. And looking around at the people in my school, it seemed pretty obvious we would be too drunk, stoned and lazy to do that. (What I did not foresee was just how much worse they would screw it up; how, presented with golden opportunities, first the Boomers and then their successors would botch them.)

I graduated from high school in 1981 with a general sense of worse things to come, a very dystopian view of my country and even humanity. When the Berlin Wall fell, this dystopian view shook quite a bit–maybe I’d been wrong. Subsequent events proved that it had just been a temporary hiccup. I soon realized that our national psyche had to have its Emanuel Goldstein, a focus for regular sessions of the Two Minutes hate, and if the Soviet one were gone, we’d need a new one and we’d create it as necessary. Without an external enemy to direct the angst toward, it would find its direction inward, and a lot of people had a lot invested in that not happening.

Adventures, Human relations

Letting kids borrow your apartment

February 1, 2012 jkkblog 2 Comments

(Warning: contains a profanity.)

About sixteen years ago, my dear friend Domi’s son Lars was coming to Seattle for a couple of weeks. I was going to Kansas for those weeks, so I agreed to let him stay in my one-bedroom dump on Aurora North (Shoreline). Lars was about 18, if I recall right. Really nice kid, responsible, intelligent, great family. No worries in the world.

Before I left, I said to Lars: “There’s only one rule, besides don’t misplace the keys. Do not have anyone over. Anyone. At all. I trust you but I can’t know some random other people. So, just do not do that. Okay?” He agreed.

Very good. I went off to Kansas and did all my usual Kansas things. Two weeks later I came home. Lars was there. Howdied him, asked how his time had gone. Small talk, but it was quite evident something was on his mind. I waited. Lars was always a good kid, so I knew he’d fess sooner or later.

“Jonathan, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Well, I had some people over.” He looked somewhat miserable.

“You did what?” Now, it’s not my way to raise my voice much, but when I’m somewhat angry I can be animated. I had to pretend to be a little angrier than I was, but not overdo it, because it had taken some serious decency to fess and I had a lot of respect for Lars. What came out was a series of chilly, annoyed sentences, jabbed like icepicks:

“Did I somehow fail to be clear as to what was expected? Was there a life in danger? Was there some compelling benefit to this? Did I mishear you when you agreed? Did I ask a great deal of you? Was that unreasonable to ask? Did I in some way do you wrong, or make you feel that it would be just fine to make casual disregard of this one clear request?” Each time, I let him answer, then kept on. I watched him carefully because I was pretty sure he was near tears. Yeah, I was punishing him a bit, and I felt a little mean, but at these times one has to make the point sink in. Plus, I was authentically annoyed.

When I figured he’d had enough, and he did not try to argue or offer a bunch of childish excuses, it was time for the finish. “Lars, I have one question from you, and I expect a candid answer. Think carefully before you respond.”

“Okay.” Poor kid looked like it was his worst day on earth, but he was still in there taking his medicine. Had to hand it to him.

I put a little extra snarl into it. “DID YOU FUCK IN MY BED?”

“No!” His shocked look and quick answer confirmed that he was being honest, as he had done all along. Good lad. Time to break the ice.

Incredulous quizzical look and tone: “Well…why NOT, boy?!!” Then I laughed.

So did he.

Editing/writing life

So you want to join the ‘lancers…

January 30, 2012 jkkblog Leave a comment

The freelancers, of course; freelance writers. We are the mercenaries of the literary world. When editors simply want the job done, without long-term commitment, they assign us writing work. If Paul Theroux and J.K. Rowling represent the nobility, we are the yeomanry.

Where do you start? Ideally, with a liberal arts degree that involved writing copious papers. If you don’t have that, your best course is one of the online review writing sites, such as Epinions or Amazon. Your ‘lancing employers won’t teach you to write, so you must first learn it on your own, in forums that provide for critique and commentary. Book and product reviews are excellent practice. Since you read heavily, you have piles of books that you could review. Your reviews might well get you noticed, and if nothing else, you’ll grow in skill.

If you also grow in ego, you did it wrong, and it’s time to rewrite your basic writing philosophy. Freelancers must be prepared to hear all manner of critique from editors. There is no crying in writing. You will find most editors as humane and pleasant as reality permits them to be, but they’ll surely tell you where your material falls short. Therefore, as you build your writing ability, don’t get too cocky even if everyone swoons over your prose. Think of frank critique as a generous gift. Consider the source, then adapt its message to evolve your talent. “You can’t write” isn’t very useful, but “that’s the clunkiest paragraph I’ve read this week” is useful indeed. Check your ego and go see what the clunk factor is, then fix it and learn.

When you think you’re ready to rent your pen, Craigslist is a fine source of leads. Many will be scams and spam opportunities, but in time you’ll learn to winnow those out. Read the application instructions with great care, and follow them precisely. Editors are watching to see how well you take direction. You’re on the ramp, so show your stuff. Write the sort of material they said they buy. During the process, don’t neglect to evaluate them in turn. Questions to ask yourself, in order of priority: do they sound like they can pay you? Do they answer your inquiries candidly, or do they simply repeat how great it’s going to be? Can you do what they’re asking, on time to spec with a good attitude?

Keep applying until someone picks you up. That part is easy. The trick is staying hired.

Your goal is to earn a repeat customer—and you must never forget that your editor is your customer, her business earned. See the world through her eyes: she has projects, deadlines, spaces to fill. She may seek topic ideas. She wants to publish quality material that will reflect well upon her and her organization. She needs reliable, drama-free, honest writers who want to write. Since this is pivotal, let’s quantify:

A reliable writer turns in consistent high-quality work on time. His work is predictably thoughtful, heedful of guidelines, sourced to the editor’s satisfaction. He can cut the mustard, which means that when she assigns him work, it’s off her list so she can get on with other duties. She wants less stress, more results. You wanted to be a writer? It’s showtime. Deliver.

It follows, then, that she doesn’t want drama. If she sends your work back for a rewrite, don’t be snippy, whiny or argumentative. Read what she says and perform the rewrite with a good attitude. If your work satisfied her that you just didn’t have the chops, she’d have simply paid you, written off the loss and never gotten back in touch. She thinks you can still provide what she wants. Prove her right.

Your editor expects you to be honest. One cardinal rule is not to slip in some cute entendre that she might miss, publish and find embarrassing. If a reference has implications she might not grasp, say so in appended notes for her consideration. If you’re unsure of something, say so. Tell her what she should know, and let her decide if it’s okay. That’s what editors do.

Everyone, it seems, says they want to write. Most writers are more interested in talking about being writers, or attending writers’ groups to talk about being writers. It’s baloney, as is writer’s block. As a ‘lancer, you renounce the right to writer’s block. People complaining of writer’s block don’t have a contract that says “You will write…” and “You will be compensated…” Depressed? Headache? Can’t find your muse? Do it anyway.

Freelancing won’t make you rich, but it’ll improve your writing as you rewrite your unfinished zombie thriller. It’s fun, varied and lets you work with some great people. Many careers cannot boast that.

=========

The above was an audition piece, a sample intended for submission along with résumé and all the other usual stuff, to a credible freelancing opportunity. I worked hard on it, trimmed, tightened, honed, shaved, planed, sanded. I’d seen the ad a couple of days before and figured I had time. Was feeling pretty clever: send a sample essay that would also market me and my approach to the job. Clever can get you some points.

Unfortunately, when I went to submit it, they had all the ‘lancers their squadron needed. Probably wouldn’t have been the case if I hadn’t been lax about getting it done and in. And that’s the other lesson: jump on it.

Adventures

Playing Grand Theft Auto in my driveway

January 22, 2012 jkkblog Leave a comment

Well, our cul-de-sac. We live on a steep slope, 17%, and to get to our place one must climb that slope. When Deb came back from Vancouver after seven hours of driving to go 230 miles, her last step was to make it up that cul-de-sac. She did it on her third try. In a front wheel drive Prius with studs, slinging ice and snow everywhere.

How it works is one approaches the leftward (upward) sloped cul-de-sac from the street, gaining good speed, then throws the wheel left, sliding all over the place. If you do it just right with enough accumulated momentum, you have enough impetus to reach our driveway. I’m an okay snow driver, but not as good as Deb.

That is why, after five tries, I didn’t get up the cul-de-sac even though the snow is now slush. Went to the store, somewhat excited as one rarely gets to throw fishtail turns in our modern day, like Tommy Vercetti in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. Vroooom! Halfway up, a joke. Back down, back up the street. Vroooooom! All over the damn place. Didn’t help that someone had to park at the bottom, and I had to avoid his or her car at all costs. Turn around and drive back, start farther. Vrooooooom! If you had stood next to the car, you would have been completely plastered in slush. Two more tries. Significant cursing. On the last, finally utter a vile oath and pull into Mrs. Anderson’s driveway, which is an easy target. Mrs. Anderson doesn’t care if we park there, any time, however long. She’s nice like that.

Yeah, I failed, but it was great fun having license and purpose to make like GTA. It is fun to have to do things that at any other time, people would stand and gape and eventually call the police.

We all need a little adventure, and freelance writers don’t get a lot, as you can see.

Adventures

Slain

January 19, 2012 jkkblog Leave a comment

No, I’m fine. Today we are experiencing some of the bizarrest weather I can recall. It’s 20° F (about -7° C, for the rest of the world), and we have freezing rain, feels a lot like ‘slain’ as in sleet/rain. This is not supposed to be possible. This should be snow, at that temperature, not slain. It’s landing atop the 8″ of snow we have, creating an icy crust. The icy crust does bring some amusement–for example, when one’s miniature schnauzer attempts to navigate it. And he must, because I have to take the little bendejo outside for his restroom visits.

Naturally, when this happens, your correspondent is in his element. I like ice and snow and tend to be highly resistant to both, so it’s a good time to look out for neighbors–especially Mrs. A, who is elderly, lives alone and is a wise and kind lady. This is why we stock up on icemelt in early spring when everyone’s trying to get rid of it. We live at the top of a very steep cul-de-sac, 17% slope, and no one can get up it without studs or chains. Amazingly, the pizza people still delivered, trudging up from the bottom.

If someone delivers you pizza in this, and you give them a lousy tip (or none), and you have a religion, you need to apostatize, because you lack a soul.

Homeownership

Looks like someone barfed in my sinks, bathtub and shower

January 13, 2012 jkkblog Leave a comment

Fortunately, no one did. When the plumbers came recently to address our water pressure issues, I asked them about drain cleaner. They don’t recommend Drano (what plumber ever does?), but instead, an environmentally friendly cleaner (what environmentally friendly cleaner ever works?). Because I was not getting anywhere with my toxic chemical soups full of sodium hydroxide, I was willing to explore a new option.

This stuff looks a lot like coarse goldenseal powder, costs about $55 a can, can lasts about a year. It is insoluble in water, so the water you mix with it basically is there to wash it down the drain. Its enzymes, which are all -ases of some sort, are supposed to eat hair, slime, anything of biological origin, yet be safe on skin and even if you ate it. I think not. You have to treat all your drains with it, then not mess with the water system for about eight hours. I have been doing this before I go to bed, and am supposed to do it for five days. Four down, one to go.

Of course, you may imagine the visual effect. I’m not supposed to wash the stuff down the drain after dumping it in, so it looks like our drains have been the target of the Kennewick Serial Vomiter. Kind of reminds me of 5th Floor McCarty Hall men’s room at the UW on a Friday night. I know (at least, I tell myself, and hope) that this is beneficial in the long term, once the -ases finish chowing on all the disgusting things slowing down our drains.

In the short term, though, it looks like we got attacked by a rogue drain puker. Good thing I did this when Deb was out of town–her commentary would wither my spirit and blister the paint.

Book reviews, Social comment

Tom Sawyer

January 10, 2012 jkkblog Leave a comment

I just finished re-reading this eternal classic, and I hope some of you will do the same. As a child, I had no idea of Clemens’ social commentary, which I can now appreciate a little more.

Then again, as a child of five, living in Kansas, I read it and immediately began to talk like a Missouri 1840s hillbilly kid. What you may not know about Kansas is that while there is definitely a fair bit of Cletusism in the state, the population is rather divided about it. As in: there is one segment that embraces country everything, speaks with a rural drawl and makes no apologies for it. My father comes from that stock, but more or less abandoned it to get an engineering degree. My mother doesn’t, despite her ranching upbringing, and always wanted not to be identified with backwoods habits. Not one bit.

Back home, this is somewhat accentuated by stereotypes and prejudices specific to Kansas and our Missourian neighbors, in which the perception is that Missouri has only one tooth and shares it out without even washing it. Of course, it’s not true; it’s mostly good-natured joshing but underneath it lie some authentic prejudices with deep roots more terrible than the rest of the nation understands. One of these days I’ll write about it. Suffice it to say that the folk memory runs deep on both sides, and neither side was a wagonload of saints. It’s a miracle we get along as well as we do now, probably because most sensible people realize the two states are not as different as the more prejudiced citizens of either would like to imagine.

So, along comes their son, a fairly precious little fellow whose idea of fun is to read through the whole encyclopedia, and he begins to talk like Tom Sawyer. As you may know, erudition ain’t a feature of Tom’s character.

It did not go over well at all. “But we wanted him to have access to great reading!” Oops.

Fortunately, I got over it. I still say ‘ain’t’ sometimes just to annoy her, or in cercles litteraires. I’m at ease with both. I like the down-to-earth rural life and basic practical wisdom of it all, and I like Brie. Zero reason one can’t have both, as I see it. If that doesn’t fit someone’s mailbox, they can refuse delivery and send it back.

This is the part where it’s about time to explain to why Tom Sawyer would be a good re-read. Where Clemens shines for me is in his cynicism about mob mentality, stuffiness, pretense and the fickle nature of mass opinion. The reader cannot miss it. Clemens is laughing at his characters, which seems to be his literary wheelhouse. In a lesser author, his laughter would come off mean-spirited and snooty; that’s probably how I’d ring if I set myself to the same storytelling task, which is why I don’t. Clemens laughs at people without malice, and has you laughing at them too. He ranks among our great.

Definitely a happy reunion.

Adventures

The abrupt truncation

January 8, 2012 jkkblog 2 Comments

I apologize for the lack of further galleries. Here’s what happened. I tried to post a third, but WordPress barfed it. Unfortunately, I learned that if that occurs, the only ways to get it are 1) start playing with a bunch of HTML code (which I simply am not going to do), or 2) re-upload the whole batch of pics. Which takes about an hour including ordering, captioning and so on. WordPress’s blithe expectation is that one shouldn’t mind doing either, as a tech support answer told me after about three days. It is not my doing that the software barfs, and if there is one area in which I am impatient, it is in doing a lot of drudgery twice for no good reason other than ‘our software is faulty, sorry’. It is very difficult to force myself to do an exacting task all over again, with no guarantee it won’t all throw up a second time. How many times might it take?

What will probably happen, therefore, is that I will either load smaller galleries here (so that when WordPress barfs and I am handed a lame solution, I will lose less work), or I will just load the rest of the photos to Faceplant and caption them there. If you have a preference please comment. Mainly, I wanted the kind and faithful readership here to enjoy them first, in something of an intimate setting not dependent upon being my FB friend, and for the pics of the animals at least, we got there.

Adventures