Archive for July, 2007

31
Jul
07

“I am Iraqi”

Last Sunday, the Iraqi national soccer team defeated–astounded is more like it–Saudi Arabia by a score of 1-0, giving the people of this war torn country something it doesn’t get very often: something to smile about.

But this is more than just a victory in a sporting event. It’s a victory for all those, especially the people who have to live there, who decry the sectarianism which is rending this country apart. Midfielder Nashaat Akram said “This is a gift to the united Iraqi people, to the different spectrums of the Iraqi people.” Laborer Muhammed Hussein said, “They (the players) showed us what the real Iraq is and how we can work hard to be something. These players are what the Iraqis are”.

It is reported that t-shirts encouraging an end to sectarianism with the slogan “I am Iraqi” have sold out everywhere.

Of course, this is still Iraq, so it comes as no surprise that the day was also somewhat marred by sporadic bloodshed. Police shot some asshole attempting to drive a car bomb into a crowd in the south Baghdad neighborhood of Sadiya. Luckily the car exploded and no one but the suicide bomber was killed, which I guess made it a good day for everyone, including the suicide bomber.

Earlier in the day police stopped two Saudi Arabian nationals attempting to detonate cars packed with explosives in the eastern neighborhood of Zayuna. And I thought Yankees fans were sore losers.

But let’s focus on the good stuff for a minute:

In the northern Kurdish city of Irbil soccer fans waved the Iraqi flag, while dancing the debka, a traditional Kurdish dance, arm in arm in the middle of the street or atop moving cars, while In Kirkuk, a northern oil city known for its melange of ethnicities, Sirwan Rasheed, 55, a Kurd, said he erected flags in the team’s honor with friends of various sects and ethnicities — Sunnis and Shiites , Turkmen and Christians. Sounds kind of like Boston in October of 2004.

What’s important here is the example being set by this soccer team. The team’s leaders include both Sunni and Shiite Muslims, who work well together and talk publicly about overcoming sectarianism. People, especially young people, look up to sports heros, and the Iraqis are no exception. At a time when sectarian tensions between Shiites and Sunnis have worsened in the Iraqi government and on the streets, the soccer team, known as the Lions of the Two Rivers, may have some part in helping Iraqis understand the benefits of putting aside sectarian hatred and working together to make their country a decent place to live. Sports heroes are role models, and Iraq certainly needs a few of those.

The strife in Iraq, and the rest of the world, for that matter, will never end until the people living there decide for themselves to choose peace over war, to choose understanding over hatred, to choose life over death. Can a handful of athletes, who seemingly have already made those decisions, be a catalyst to peace?

I believe they can. After all, I’m a Red Sox fan. I’ve already seen one miracle.

(In the interest of full disclosure, I borrowed liberally from this article for this post.)

–Smith

31
Jul
07

Who with empassion’d breath, a poem

More fun with the sonnet form.

It’s only Spring who sings to me this morn,
With hair like honey gold and cool blue eyes.
The Winter ravaged fields she’ll soon adorn
With buds that wait for rain drops from the skies.

Seeds that lie beneath the ground in death,
Before Spring’s fertile sister will rejoice:
Hot-eyed Summer, who with empassion’d breath
Dances naked to rhythms of her choice.

I hear nymph-like Summer softly singing,
A carnal alto, her footfall’s soft descent.
Her perfume the soft caressing breeze is bringing.
Her sultry spell upon me won’t relent.

I close my eyes and dream about the day
When in the flowered fields entwined we lay.

Stephen P. Smith

28
Jul
07

“When can I see Mummy?”

I had a very disquieting experience today. I really don’t know why it affected me the way it did. You be the judge.

I was in a hospital waiting room today. While there, I noticed a little girl, somewhere between two and three years old. She was wearing a little summer dress, and her blond hair was all in curls. She was, in a word, adorable.

She kept asking her father, “When can I see Mummy?” She wasn’t whining or being insistent in the way toddlers can be. She just wanted to know when she could see Mummy. To which her father patiently responded, “Not now. We’ll see Mummy later”.

This particular hospital is a famous orthopedic hospital, but it also has a cancer ward.
So as I walked out of the hospital, I kept wondering why the little girl’s mother was in the hospital in the first place. It might have been nothing more than knee surgery. But it’s also possible that her mother was dying of cancer.

When the little girl finally gets to see her Mummy, will it be a prelude to a happy homecoming, or will it be the last time she is ever held in her mother’s arms? Does this story end with her taking her Mummy home, or does it end with a little girl standing at a graveside, too young to understand why she will never see her Mummy again?

Somewhat to my astonishment, I found myself saying a prayer for someone I had never met, partly for the mother’s sake, but really because I wanted the little girl to be spared the pain of learning her first lesson in how cruel and unjust life can be, of how temporary life really is, at such an unfairly young age. But I will never know how this story ends.

–Smith

27
Jul
07

De profundis, a poem

Having some fun with the sonnet form here. Comments and criticism always welcome.
This one is dedicated to Spas.

Are all religions nothing but a fraud?
Was every single prophecy a lie?
And is it wrong to think a lonely god
Saw fit to create men who live and die?

In all this empty space, stars pale and dim
Glimmer in an empty, sable sphere.
Are there none to hear us when we cry to him?
Are there none but stars and nebulae anywhere?

In all the universe’s deep infinity
Are we the only sentient ones who can
Contemplate the notion of divinity,
And in the spiraling galaxies discern a plan?

How melancholy if it were for certain known
That through the black of space we drift alone.

–Stephen P. Smith

24
Jul
07

A New Page

I’ve added a new Poetry page to Murder of Ravens. Much to my astonishment, poetry has once again become an important part of my life. I would go so far as to say that of all the 100-plus posts I’ve put up so far, the poems are the ones of which I am most proud.

I wrote a great deal of poetry when I was a student, but by the time I first started writing on WordPress last September, I hadn’t written a poem in over twenty years. The first one that appeared on this blog, Lacrimosa, took me months to write (I had been working on it for quite a while before starting Murder of Ravens). At that point I still didn’t think I would write any more poetry. But my feelings about my son fighting in Iraq resulted in another poem, Immolatus Est. Again, having got that out of my system, I figured that would be it for the poetry. I still believed that the muse that once followed me around faithfully when I was a student had abandoned me. I now realize that she’s been there all along; it was I who was ignoring her.

The strange thing is I never really sit down with the intention of writing a poem. Usually when I publish one my first thought is, “now what?” But sooner or later something I see or hear or feel will just hit me a certain way, and suddenly the lines just start coming together in my head, and usually after a period of days or weeks I’ll have something tangible enough to write down. But I have learned not to force it. I don’t control the muse: she controls me. So be it.

Is it great poetry? Who knows? But it’s mine, I created it, and I’m proud of it. So I wanted it to have its own special page. If it it touches you in some way, let me know. That’s why I write them in the first place.

–Smith

23
Jul
07

Call your Congressmen now!!

I’ll get right to the point here: the U. S. Senate is contemplating a bill which would raise the tax on premium cigars from 5 cents per cigar to a whopping $10 per cigar! That is an increase of 20,000%!! Taxes on other forms of tobacco would be similarly affected. Once again the federal government is exploiting the tobacco industry’s status as the lawmakers’ favorite whipping boy.

I would urge anyone who enjoys fine cigars or pipe tobacco (and believe me, there are still millions of us around) to contact their Senators and Congressmen. You can find your Congressman by clicking on this link. You can find your Senators here.

You can read an article about this here. And you can read an excellent post on the ramifications of this, written by one of WordPress’s finest bloggers, here.

Tobacco taxes have been our lawmaker’s favorite new toy for some years now, because the dilemma if you’re a politician is always how to raise taxes without jeopardizing your political future. Raise the tax on gasoline or alcohol, and you face banishment to the Dreaded Private Sector. The very thought sends shivers down your spine.

But the wonder of the tobacco tax is that it can be employed over and over again, for two reasons. First, smokers themselves have become a politically impotent minority. To be blunt, no one gives a shit about the smoker or his or her rights. Secondly, these debates are always framed around that obnoxious catchphrase, “it’s for the children”. Liberal gasbag Max Baucus (D-Montana) came out with this beauty: “When given the choice between standing with big tobacco companies and standing with kids, I stand with America’s children.”

Gee, Max, Americans are SO relieved to hear that you’re not standing against the children. After all, anybody who opposes these tax increases must be against the children, right? And so they just keep using this risk free means of raising taxes, over and over and over again. Harry Potter himself could not contrive anything more magical for the tax hungry politician.

But everyone seems to forget two things. First, it makes no sense to fund social welfare programs by taxing an industry out of existence, particularly when that industry has historically produced trillions in tax revenues.

Second, if the tobacco industry is taxed out of existence, the government will have to replace that lost tax revenue somehow. And if they can take my pipe and cigar away from me today, they can take your little pleasure away from you tomorrow.

Think about it.

–Smith

20
Jul
07

Cinderella, a poem(?)

Just goofing around here. I really don’t know where this one came from. I just have a fascination with feminine endings. Some people have told me my poetry has a “spiritual” quality to it. Boy, are they going to be disappointed with this one.

Cinderella, Cinderella, night and day it’s Cinderella
I just ring my little bell-a
When I want my Cinderella
She could never find a fella
‘Cause her name was Cinderella
So she wed a big gorella
Who made her life a livin’ hell-a
So she locked him in the cella
Where she couldn’t hear him yell-a
Now her life is kinda mella
And she likes to play “Gisella”
On a Stradivari cella
And remember Ed Villella
While she smokes a Mirandella
That is flavored with vanella
And her favorite color’s yella
‘Cause it looks like lemon jella
And that’s all I have to tell-a
‘Bout a girl named Cinderella.

–Smith (although I’m not sure if I want to cop to this one).

18
Jul
07

The Ring Thing

By now nothing that goes on in public schools should surprise me. We live in a through-the-looking-glass world where students are suspended for smoking cigarettes, but can get free condoms from the school nurse, where prayer is not allowed but t-shirts glorifying rap music and its odious messages are commonly worn, and where students graduate knowing how to TM while barely being able to read and speak articulately.

So why should it surprise me that an English school has forbidden a fifteen year old Christian girl from wearing a small silver ring that symbolizes her commitment to chastity until marriage? If you want the details, see this article here, although a Google search of Lydia Playfoot turns up quite a bit of material. Suffice to say, she has been told by the school to remove the ring or face expulsion.

I have two BIG problems with this.

First, this same school allows Muslim girls to wear their head scarves, and Sikh girls to wear the silver bracelets of their faiths. This I have no problem with. Freedom to express one’s religion is a basic human right. But don’t Christian girls have the same rights as Muslims and Sikhs?

And perhaps more importantly, does anyone really think it’s such a hot idea to punish a teenager when she’s actually trying to do the right thing? Anyone who has ever been the parent of a teenager knows what a demoralizing experience this can be. There are just so many ways teens can screw up their lives: drugs, alcohol, sex, violence, gangs. No matter how hard you try to steer them away from these, many just blithely embrace some or all of these self destructive behaviors while regarding their parents as hopelessly out of touch simpletons. Any parent who can shepherd their teen to adulthood while keeping them in one piece has done something to be proud of.

This process is made harder than ever because there are just so many other influences on teens that parents must now compete with. Peer pressure used to mean the kids at school. Now, thanks to the Internet, it means kids all over the world. Kids are being urged by way too many people to make really, really bad decisions.

So in a world where teenagers kill just because they want to “see what it feels like”, it is refreshing to hear about a girl like Lydia Playfoot, who is actually doing the right thing and encouraging others to do the same. But instead of getting the praise she deserves, all she’s getting is a whole lot of undeserved aggravation. It is a sad indictment of our culture when a teenage girl is turned into a pariah for NOT having sex. The scarlet letter A used to stand for “adulteress”. I guess now it stands for “abstinence”.

In our increasingly secular world, there are many who find her extroverted brand of Christian faith cloying, but that is more of a reflection of our society than it is on her. I find it rather ironic that while the western world is predominantly Christian, Christianity itself is becoming ever more marginalized. Devout Christians are often looked down upon by the intelligentsia as rubes and simpletons. And yet in Muslim, Jewish, and other cultures, religious faith is still viewed as a virtue.

But one does not need to embrace devout Christianity to recognize the value of her message, or to be disturbed by the school administration’s attempts to squash that message, which should be regarded as a breath of fresh air. What parent in the world wouldn’t sell their soul just to hear their teen say, “Mom, Dad, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided not to have sex until I’m married. Is that OK?” In a world where so many influences are telling her to do otherwise, Lydia Playfoot is doing the right thing. Ring or no ring.

–Smith

18
Jul
07

The Clowns are gonna getcha!!

In just the past week, no less than two of my friends, both normal, well adjusted men, have told me that they suffered from a phobia that I’ve never encountered in real life, the fear of clowns. It turns out it even has a name: coulrophobia.

So I did a little research, and what I found was fascinating. While it’s quite common for children to be afraid of clowns, I discovered that some experts believe that as many as one in seven adults never outgrow this fear. Like most phobias, symptoms can include shortness of breath, irregular heartbeat, sweating, nausea and overall feelings of dread.

Like most phobias, it is difficult to explain where this comes from. The most common cause is usually a bad childhood experience involving a clown. But there is another interesting theory about how this phobia develops. Because a clown’s smile is painted on, you can’t tell what the clown is really thinking. Is he going to give you a flower or go for your throat? That perpetual smile does something in the mind of the coulrophobe, who finds this inability to “read” the clown, along with the clown’s historic propensity for acting outside social norms (and getting away with it) so unsettling that it creates an unreasonable panic.

Google “fear of clowns” and a whole plethora of websites come up devoted to explaining and helping people overcome the phobia. Clearly, coulrophobia is no laughing matter.

Many famous fictional characters suffer from coulrophobia, encompassing such wide ranging types from Cosmo Kramer to obsessive compulsive detective Adrian Monk. Pasquale, the perpetual child in the comic strip “Rose is Rose” is terrified of clowns, as is Bart Simpson.

Alan Shore, the wily lawyer from the TV series “Boston Legal”, is so afraid of clowns that the normally glib attorney actually froze in a courtroom when the plaintiff, a clown, unexpectedly showed up for the trial in full clown regalia. Later in the episode, Shore claimed there was nothing unreasonable about his fear, describing clowns as “evil” and taking issue with parents who encourage their children to “simply trust them”. He eventually overcame his fear–with the help of colleague and former Marine Brad Chase–to the point where he is able to approach the clown, who allows Alan to squeeze his nose. (There’s a reason this is one of my favorite TV shows. I’m a big fan of the surreal.)

For a comprehensive list, (and boy, is it a long one!) click here.

And I always thought the lions were scary. By the way, if you suffer from coulrophobia, do not, under any circumstances, look at the picture below.

But if you LIKE scary clowns, check out this link.

Hey, I warned you!

–Smith

13
Jul
07

I told you these things were evil…

I hate the iPod. I hate how it epitomizes an entire generation’s obsession with being entertained on demand. I hate the relentless marketing that tries to make me feel like a lower form of life for not owning one. I hate how our society is inexorably lapsing into an electronically induced isolationism. Remember when you actually used to talk to the person sitting next to you on the train, or standing next to you in line at the bank? Those days seem to be going the way of the pocket watch and the leather backed book.

Whenever I see some teen or twenty-something wandering around in an iPod induced haze I am overcome by this urge to surreptitiously push the volume button as high as it will go and liquefy their brain, no real loss since they rarely use it anyway. Of course, this assumes that I could actually find the volume button, which I probably couldn’t since I have sworn never to own one of these odious little devices.

As if this wasn’t bad enough, it now appears that an iPod can put you in the hospital. Yesterday a teenager was struck by lightning as he was wearing his iPod during a lightning storm. Thankfully he survived, but I’ll bet he’s not exactly rushing out to get a new one, unless the lighting has totally pureed his brains. Maybe that leather backed book is looking a little more attractive to him right now. You can read the story here.

One always likes to have one’s opinions validated, especially by the Supreme Being. God agrees with me. God hates iPods too.

-Smith

12
Jul
07

And so life goes on…

So I’m back. Time to get writing again. Time to get on with my life.

As some of you know by now, my recent hiatus from WordPress was occasioned by my divorce. Firstly, she got custody of the computer. But more importantly, the whole ordeal simply left me feeling too depressed to even attempt to write anything.

But I’m still left to wonder: how does a relationship that seemed so good for so many years suddenly go off the rails? As I’ve stated elsewhere, I really didn’t see this coming. Last Valentine’s Day, I wrote about my feelings for her in this post. There was nothing dramatic in our break up, no violence, or substance abuse, or adultery, or anything like that. One day she just told me she needed to move on. End of marriage. End of story.

So now I’m getting used to being single at 45. In some ways, it’s kinda cool. Complete freedom to do what I want, when I want. I’ve always enjoyed the idea of just getting up and doing something for no other reason than it just popped into my head and it seemed like fun. This sort of spontaneity on my part always annoyed her. With her everything was planned out like it was the invasion of Normandy.  A warning sign?  Perhaps.

We had no children with each other, so there’s no pressing reason for us to stay in each others lives, continually annoying each other the way divorced parents often do. But I do regret that her son will no longer be a part of my life.  As a step parent, I have no rights here, and perhaps it’s for the best.  Transitions are very difficult for children with Asperger’s Syndrome, and it probably would do him no good for me to be popping in and out of his life.

No more lawn to mow.

But I do miss her. Or perhaps more accurately, I miss the little things that made up our relationship. I miss the kiss goodbye in the morning, and the kiss when I walked in the door at night. I miss waking up at three in the morning and finding her there next to me, her warm softness making the dead of night a little less oppressive. I miss eating meals together, going shopping together, going on vacations together. I miss things like going to weddings and seeing both our names on the little card that’s always on the table so you know where to sit.

Most of all I miss holding hands. We held hands a lot. We held hands in high school. In the dream I related in the Valentine’s Day post, we held hands. I honestly believed that we would go through life holding hands, and that when the time came for me to pass from this world, it would be she who would be sitting at my bedside, holding my hand one last time.

But now that is all over and done. What I believed to be a lifelong relationship has turned out to be merely a chapter in my life, one that is now over.

Breaking up at 45 is not the same as breaking up at 25. There is a certain sense of panic that comes with the realization that my life is half over (I’m an optimist). Finding a life’s companion is not so easy when your hair is graying, your tummy a bit more noticeable, and your personality firmly in place with all its quirks and eccentricities. There is the very real possibility that I will spend the rest of my life alone. Freedom is great, but I wonder if it is a suitable replacement for companionship.

Right now I have little desire to entangle my life with someone else’s, but how will I feel a year from now?  The idea of growing old alone is a frightening one.  Freedom, or companionship?  I wonder if it is possible to have both.

-Smith

11
Jul
07

I’M BA-AAACK!!!!!!

Finally! Gawd, how I’ve missed this!

And I’m still gobsmacked. I still can’t believe how many people have stopped by even though I haven’t written anything in two months. Thanks to everyone who took the time to check in.

Yes, it really has taken me this long to get back online (the ex-wife got custody of the computer) and damn! it feels so good to by typing away again.

I really want to thank everyone who wrote to me and left comments in the last few months. People I have only met through this medium took the time to offer friendship and support during a really shitty period in my life, and to them I will always be grateful.

But there is one person in particular I feel the need to mention individually, my friend Spas. Odd, in a way, to call someone you’ve never met a friend, but what else CAN you call someone who took the time to make my problems her problems, who cared enough to send encouraging words even when I was too depressed to respond? She is a genuinely good and caring person, and I can only hope I have the good fortune to meet her in person someday. And by the way, she is one hell of a writer.

Oh, and before I forget, I also have to mention the one friend I have in the blogging community that I also have the pleasure to know personally, my friend and co-worker Michael Murphy. Without going into great detail here, let’s just say that Mike never let me feel sorry for myself, and applied the tough love when it was most needed.

He also supplied me with hookers.

It’s been way to long since I’ve inflicted my opinions on the world, way too long since I’ve pissed anyone off (although I think I’ve just fixed that.)

I’m back! Ready or not, here I come.

Oh, and just kidding about the hookers.

–Smith




taking up a glowing cinder with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than a meditative mood" ~ Dr. John H. Watson ************************
visitor stats
Click to see full version by whos.amung.us
Click here if you want to learn the truth about second hand smoke
A Boston University Physician exposes the fallacies of the anti-smoking movement.

My Guests

  • 191,086 visitors
Murder of Ravens' RSS feed
Everything you want to know about the movies of today and yesterday. One of my favorite websites. If you love classical music, you have to visit this site.

 

July 2007
S M T W T F S
« May   Aug »
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031  

Thoughts from the Past

Creating Order from Chaos


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.