Fresh Perspective

I am just now starting to realize the benefits of having a brother who just happens to be a high school guidance counselor. Over the last few months, little bro has actually become a really good person for me to talk to about whatever frustrations may be bringing me down. He's really good as a sounding board, and he gives sound advice too. It's surprising how much he's learned dealing with adolescents and teens... and it's more than a little sad how much all those experiences really do translate over into our adult lives. In many ways, we never leave those old patterns behind.

Tonight, in a conversation about difficult friendships where he professionally referenced the sociological concept of "girl wars" and I brought up the ever-popular "frenemies," he taught me some new lingo: ladders & anchors. These are two types of friends. In layman's terms.... ladders are the friends who help you advance, or rise up, and anchors are the friends who bring you down or keep you stuck in place. What a great description... I love it! I told him this new lingo makes me happy, cuz I like snappy labels for things. :-)

I really try to surround myself with ladders, and I really value the good influence they are on me. Ladder friends make me laugh, make me get my head out of the sand (or my a@@, wherever it might be), and help me find real solutions to whatever the problems may be. I've got lots of ladder friends, thank goodness.

I do have some anchor friends, too, but I've learned over the years that I need to manage those friendships and the amount of time I spend with those folks to keep it positive and not slip into that sometimes so tempting funk of self-perpetuating negativity. I definitely have had times in my life where I sought out anchors - heck, I probably even was the anchor for more than a few people - but as I've gotten older and gained more experience and insight, I really do try to be more positive and seek out others who promote the same kind of positivity.

We're all human, of course, and I'm just as likely to fall into that funk as anybody else... but I sure am glad to know I have so many good people - friends, family, peers - who remind me how healthy and satisfying it is just to stay positive. Thank you, ladders o' mine!

Not a Good Sign

My sit-at-home funny ha-ha moment of the night?

I totally forgot John McCain was running for President!

I was sitting here, eating my dinner in front of Hardball. Chris interviewed Mike Huckabee and he was interspersing clips of the Republican debate from last night. So the clips were bouncing from Rudy to Mitt to Huckabee to Rudy to Mitt to.... wait, who's that guy? Oh my God! That's John McCain! Oh, yeah, he's running too!

Seriously, that was went through my head. I *almost* feel bad for McCain. It's pretty much a sure sign you're gonna lose if people actually forget that you're running!

Shooting Ourselves in the Foot

This DC Office of Tax and Revenue scandal really pisses me off. How in the world can we expect the rest of the country - albeit begrudgingly - to give us voting rights and more autonomy when this kind of ridiculous scandal emerges? The corruption is horrible enough... have you read about what those people spent all the money on? Ferragamos, Faberge eggs, and weed. As a resident of the District, I'm ashamed.

Ah, the dreams of DC statehood... even the faint glimmer of hope for a voting member of the House let alone the Senate... we hardly knew ye.

I've Had Enough of Cinderella

Brunette and I had a great conversation today over sushi (as most of our best convo's are) about romantic expectations, particularly the unrealistic kind. How much are our dreams and our choices shaped by the love stories we see on the screen?

I have my moments of being a hopeless romantic...and that probably has not served me well in real life. I've always been one to hang on or hold out for way too long, because I've developed these elaborate fantasies in my head about living some grand romance. I want a love story for the ages, as if it had been scripted by screenwriters... so it's quite fitting that they're currently on strike.

I have spent years of my life hoping for - and trying to force - one of those tried-and-true formulaic Hollywood stories. You know the one, in which two best friends finally realize after years of ups and downs that they're right for each other... the Harry and Sally moment...."the search is over, love was right before my eyes....." Ugh.

And I'm pretty tired of it. Sure, it's one thing to be a total 'shipper as a tv and movie fan... cuz how can you not root for the hero and heroine to realize that they're soul mates? Ross and Rachel trying to open that locked Central Perk door and have their earth-shattering kiss...Pam pouring out her soul to Jim after walking across hot coals...and Big following Carrie to the most romantic city on Earth.

Great moments in tv relationship history. But not so great for this little heart of mine, cuz it keeps selling me more and more on those unrealistic dreams.... Cinderella may have been swept off her feet, but she too was a fictional character.

So, in honor of our modern classic heroine, I sit here on my laptop and pose to you my faithful readers the following:

Would the world be better off if Carrie and Big had never ended up together? Was this just another Cinderella story setting us up for disappointment?

I'm not saying I should give up on the hope for romance... but that I need to redefine what romance is. With all the fantasies pushed aside, I want something real. And that means I need to open myself up to something real, and not keep clinging so tightly to these notions that I should accept nothing other than the fantasy or the melodrama. Someday my Prince will come, too... but he may just be a regular guy in a polo shirt and jeans. And I'm ready for that. You hear me, universe?!?

Somewhat related side note: Even though I've never seen a full episode of American Idol, I have to confess that the AI-style mainstream pop songs are one of my guiltiest pleasures. Currently, I'm addicted to that new Jordin Sparks song "Tattoo." I first heard it when she sang on the Pillsbury float in the Macy's Thanksgiving parade. Marketing works, even the shameless kind.... I'm such a product of pop culture.

He Ain't Heavy

My little brother came to visit! We just had a very enjoyable 3-day Thanksgiving holiday, featuring food, folks, and fun. (But no McDonald's.) Like a few years ago when my parents visited, I got to play tour guide of this city that I love. Since little bro hadn't been to our nation's capital since the Reagan Administration, there was lots to show him.

Wednesday

Little bro got into town in time for lunch, and after grabbing some Potbelly's I gave him a tour of my office and our exhibits at the museum where I work. He was duly impressed (with the exhibits too, not just with the toasty sandwich). Eventually we made our way up to AdMo and then to Dupont, where Onyah and Reporter Boy joined us for a few hours of good greasy bar food and shuffleboard at Buffalo Billiards. Later, we took advantage of the wonderfully unseasonable weather and walked the Mall. I highly recommend visiting the monuments at night, it's when our city looks its best.

Thursday

Turkey Day! Once again, I benefited from the gracious hospitality and wonderful cooking of Mr. Scotte and Mr. J-Lo. Thanks boys, especially for being so welcoming of my little bro! We spent the day laughing, talking, eating, drinking, and watching movies, and my bro got to meet lots of folks from my DC circle, including this newlywed couple and one of these guys, plus Joyous and Jane Austen and the other newlyweds in their matching Hawaii t-shirts. This is why Thanksgiving has become my favorite holiday of the year. :-)

Friday

Friday was our whirlwind tour of DC's cultural offerings... and trust me, getting out and about the day after Thanksgiving is not for the faint-hearted. I can't imagine what the malls were like, but I can tell you that at the museums there were people - and strollers - EVERYWHERE!

We started with a morning visit to the International Spy Museum. This was actually my first time going, since I'd never found a reason to justify that high ticket price (grrr) before. But, we actually had a really good time! It's a very thorough look at espionage, ranging from all the modern gadgetry and disguise tricks to the role of spies throughout world history. The museum is very interactive, with a little something for everybody, and the exhibit is a lot bigger than you might think by looking at the building from outside. Plus, there's a great gift shop... with everything from Jack Bauer gear to Nancy Drew party games to Mao and Che t-shirts. Worth a trip!

After lunch at Austin Grill, we had some time to kill.... and made our way to the National Museum of Natural History. Normally this is one of my favorites of the Smithsonian, but the horrendous crowds were too much to battle. We explored a little bit of the Ice Age and dinosaur exhibits, which were almost dangerously mobbed, and found a newer exhibit on African Voices. This was pretty cool, and since it was sadly not at all crowded, we did get to explore. We fought our way upstairs through the hordes for a 2 second look at the Hope Diamond, and then burst back out onto Constitution Avenue for some air. Word to the wise... do NOT go to the Mall (or the mall) on Black Friday. Not if you value your personal space and comfort and actually want to SEE anything.

Then, at little bro's request, we hit the E Street Cinema to catch a matinee showing of what I'm happy to call the best film I've seen all year - No Country for Old Men. The cast is universally superb - with Tommy Lee Jones, Josh Brolin, and Woody Harrelson all inhabiting their West Texas cowboys perfectly. But the real center of this film - the cold, dark, mysterious center - is Javier Bardem's chillingly evil assassin. See this movie, and hope you never run into Bardem on the side of the highway.

After a dinner of lamb kabobs at Skewers, we finished our tour with the evening show of Keegan Theatre's Mojo Mickybo at the Church Street Theater. This was my first time in the Dupont theater space, and my first time seeing a Keegan show, but I was really impressed and will plan to check out more of both in the future. This play was a really fun, fast-moving two-man show about childhood in Belfast in 1970. As we were leaving, the folks asked us to spread the word and tell people to come see the show before it closes on 12/1, so.... see it!

At this point, we hit about the 12-hour mark of playing tourist, and we were exhausted.... it takes a lot out of you!

Saturday

And now it's Saturday morning, and my poor bro is stuck with at least an hour delay at National. I repeat my own mantra to you all... never fly Northworst. They're in the boring terminal and they are ALWAYS delayed. Ah well, he'll be home soon, and then we'll get to hang again in Bloomington in a few weeks. But I'm glad he's finally gotten a little taste of my world here.

The Monuments at Night

Wednesday was the perfect night for walking the Mall - clear, warm, and quiet. Enjoy!

Teen Dreams

I was bored on the bus tonight, and suddenly found myself remembering my early celebrity crushes... you know, those gorgeous guys that stared at you longingly from posters on your wall, or pictures taped up on the inside of your locker door. Sigh. That's the stuff preteen dreams were made of!

My earliest crushes make me laugh these days. Remember when Ricky "The Rickster" Schroeder was the coolest thing around? I used to daydream that he was my boyfriend... the raciest those fantasies ever got was that he would come to my school and walk the halls with me holding my hand!

Sixth grade was a big year for me, as that was when we finally had lockers. Oooh, let the magazine clipping begin! I *couldn't wait* for the latest issue of Teen Beat every week, so I could clip out every single picture there was of Mr. Pritikin himself, Kirk Cameron.

My middle school crushes lasted through early high school, and for a while the total love of my life was that quintessential '80's Jersey Boy, Jon Bon Jovi. I felt a real connection to him, you know, cuz he had the same birthday as my brother (March 2). See, we were destined to be soul mates! I swear, at one point I had memorized every bit of trivia ever printed about him, and this was way before the days of Wikipedia.

I had a whole folder of magazine photos of him, and I had this actual Rolling Stone cover hanging on my wall! Look at him, those smoldering eyes, that dreamy crispy crunchy hair! While it still makes me look twice nowadays to recognize him without all that hair, I do have to give JonBon props, as he has aged very well. Still a sexy man!

When I wasn't dreaming of seeing a million faces and rocking them all, I was obsessing over a certain soulful singer who's become a bit of an archetype in my life. Once "Faith" came out in 1987 !!!!, I was a total goner. George Michael, what a heart throb! Ah, my first gay crush. AND my first Greek crush. Mr. "I Want Your Sex" is just a harbinger of things to come, trust me...

For most of high school, I refrained from putting up celeb pics in favor of real-life guys and candid friends shots. Plus, by then I was more into bands like U2 and Depeche Mode, and it just was not cool to put posters of them in your locker. Puh-leeze, how conformist and mainstream. Scoff!

College meant more posters on the wall, and I'm proud to say I was not one of those "Waterlilies" or "Precious Moments" or "French bistro" girls. I can't remember all the posters I had up, but I know U2, Depeche Mode, and Madonna were in the mix. (Posters in your dorm room were infinitely cooler than clippings in your locker, so I was proud to display the bands by then.) Still, these weren't exactly celebrity crushes, it was more about putting a little personality up on the walls.

Grad school... I don't think I had any celeb stuff anywhere. I had a real grown-up apartment by this time, and was having fun decorating for real.

But, once I started working.... I learned the joys of doing image searches on the Internet. So as the locker door was to the 1980's, the computer desktop was to the 2000's!

After I saw the original "Wuthering Heights" I just had to put up a pic of the astoundingly gorgeous young Laurence Olivier. Take a look at him... those eyes! Those cheekbones!

After having Sir Larry up on the screen for about a year, I saw "Gosford Park." Oh. My. God. That is when I first discovered Mr. Clive Owen. And onto the screen he goes...


Noticing the trend here? Way back to Mr. George Michael, I'm a sucker for brooding foreigners... Give me a furrowed brow, a tortured soul, and a sexy accent and I'm done. This is not a trend that has served me well, alas, but I'm willing to hang onto it in just the celebrity arena. I do not wanna give up on Clive!

So what of my pinups now? As you know, over the last few years I've taken up photography as a hobby, so now my real walls and my computer desktop have become gallery space for my own images. That means I have to use this here little blog for my pinups these days. So, for good measure, I give you....


SAWYER!!!!! Seriously, it doesn't get any hotter than that. Have I finally broken free of my brooding foreigners and gone back to my good old American shaggy-haired roots? One can only hope.

What about you, trusty readers? Who were your teen pinups??? Come on, dish!

The Best Policy

There's something to be said about recognizing mortality - your own or that of those you love.

I had dinner with someone really close to me tonight, and it was one of those evenings that featured some very deep conversations. I was very much in a sharing mood, talking about some of the ups and downs of my life this year, especially stories from my most recent trip to see my family in Indiana.

I revealed that this was really a very important visit, perhaps even more so in hindsight, and not just because of the paradigm-shifting time spent with the Dalai Lama. This trip also included some very deep conversations with my family, and I shared tonight that those conversations were some of the most honest ones I've ever had as an adult.

Normally, I'm a really non-confrontational person. I tend to absorb things, even the things that really bother me, and just keep them inside to fester, fester, fester. I often toss and turn long into the night, reliving past hurts and conversations that I wish had gone differently, losing sleep and a bit of my mind as the hours tick by. Tonight my dinner companion asked if I have trouble expressing myself, but that's not it. I (rather ironically considering the company) said no, I have no problem expressing myself and my frustrations to any 3rd party with a set of ears who happens to walk by... my problem is in expressing myself to the actual people who should be hearing what I'm saying!

My family gets along pretty well, for the most part, but there is a lot of baggage and history there like with most. And I'm the kid that moved away, so I don't see them very often and when I do there's rarely time to delve much deeper than a surface visit. And usually I don't think there's any reason to rock the boat, even if times come up when maybe I should.

BUT... this family visit was different. For the first time in a very long time, I actually said what was on my mind. Rather than just letting parental stuff bug me and continue to pile on top of years of little irks, I actually said "please don't say that....don't project what you think I'm thinking..." and articulated my own real feelings on the subject at hand. No nodding and fake, resigned smiles this time.

And you know what? There were breakthroughs. Like, seriously, real conversations about how we affect each other and how we relate to each other and how we are trying to cope with the lasting effects of our checkered history. With promises to try and listen, and communicate, and understand each other better in the future.

Wow. Families don't have to be little powder kegs of hurt feelings, or sadness, or regret, or misplaced guilt... they can actually just be people trying to care for each other and enjoy each other's company. Amazing.

My dinner companion was a great listener, and after hearing my revelations said "This was your first trip back, right?" As in, was this was my first visit since there was a real health crisis this summer? Actually, it was the 2nd, but my first trip in September was so quick that there wasn't really time to explore thoughts further than "Wow, I'm so glad you're alive!" This visit was longer and allowed for a lot more quality time spent with each other. I hadn't really thought more about it myself, but what my friend was getting at was true. Even though I was not there in person in the midst of the crisis, it has had its lasting effects -- and I think this newfound commitment to honesty may be one of the best. Because life is too damn short, and we truly love each other too much, to choose any other way. Another breakthrough.

Now.... I just need to work on figuring out how to be more honest with myself. I'm my own toughest customer, for sure. I should look back over my notes and see what the Dalai Lama's advice is about that!

Double Booked

Continuing my week of cultural adventures, I actually did two things tonight. Since I so rarely have such a busy night, I thought I'd mark the occasion with a blog post for your enjoyment. :-)

First up, book club at Raku in Dupont. Mmmmm noodles! The setting was appropriate, as we discussed the novel Silk by Alessandro Baricco. This novel, written in Italian, tells the story of a 19th century Frenchman and his travels to Japan in search of priceless silkworm eggs. On his journeys, he meets a beautiful and mysterious woman and he becomes instantly infatuated. Each year, he leaves his wife behind in France and makes the treacherous trip across the world in the hopes of another glimpse or encounter with the mystery woman. The real world interferes, however, with Japan's civil war and disease among the silkworms.

The story questions the meaning of love and fidelity, and features some of the most beautiful, vivid, lyrical language I've seen. In fact, it also includes just about the dirtiest sexual passage I've ever seen in a novel, as well. Our book club seems to have a knack for finding unexpected erotica in popular fiction! But the book was enjoyable, barely a 90 minute read tops, and we had a great discussion. Any book club meeting that can include references to Jabba the Hut AND how "The Notebook" chokes the kitten but still makes us sob is an evening well spent!

Next, I made my way back over to National Geographic for the photo-conservation lecture "From Yellowstone to Yukon: Freedom to Roam." This was a great program, as the German photographer Florian Schwarz gave an impassioned and entertaining talk on the need to preserve North American biodiversity by protecting the connected lands in the Yellowstone to Yukon corridor. Florian (what a great name!) shared some gorgeous photographs of grizzlies, wolves, and the amazing landscapes of the American West, which are all collected in his book (a great holiday gift idea).

In explaining why we should listen to a German guy's pleas to preserve North America's natural resources, Schwarz made an interesting comparison: In Germany, he said, they have a wealth of recorded history - cathedrals, cities, civilizations that are hundreds and even thousands of years old. But what we have in the Americas is a living natural history, ecosystems that have remained largely unchanged since, I dunno, the last Ice Age. Europeans, he said, have lost that natural history and there's no way of getting it back. Well, when he puts it that way, it sure does make sense.

To learn more about this conservation effort, check out the Y2Y site.

Thus ends my week of culture, but have no fear... I'll be exploring again next week when baby bro comes to visit for the first time in about 2 decades. I've got to show him my city!

My Cultural Capital

I have spent the past week playing "culture vulture," sampling some of the great cultural resources our fine city has to offer. I didn't quite plan to do all of this in just a week, but it's a great lesson in how much there is to do and how fun it can be to just soak up the art and history that are all around us here in our nation's capital. (Buckle up, this is gonna be a long post!)

Tuesday
I started my adventures at National Geographic, with a lecture on Palenque and the Ancient Maya World. The lecture given by the entertaining father-son duo of the Drs. Stuart focused on the discovery and excavation of this ancient city, hidden in the Yucatan jungle for centuries, and the story its art and architecture tell of the line of kings led by Pacal the Great. I found the most interesting part of the evening to be the discussion of what the fields of archaeology and anthropology mean to modern cultures - what does it mean for the current residents of the Yucatan, the living Maya, to learn about these ancient civilizations of their ancestors? How does it help build identity and cohesiveness for the modern people? Thought-provoking stuff.

I love these NG programs (branded under the umbrella of National Geographic Live!) because you can hear fascinating stories about history, culture, photography, and the natural world - like the best lectures you had back in college - but there's no test afterwards! I try to go to several programs each year, and I have tickets for 2 more this fall. Stay tuned!

Wednesday
The next night, some pals and I made it over to Woolly Mammoth to check out their world premiere of Melissa James Gibson's Current Nobody. This show puts a contemporary spin on Homer's The Odyssey, with the story of a war photographer who returns to her family after 20 years of adventures "off the map."

Here's the thing... I didn't really like this show. I could see what the playwright was going for in her modern interpretation - flipping the gender roles so that the woman is the one who leaves and sees the world, and making some subtle references to our current war society - but it didn't really work for me. Even though it's a modern setting, she kept a lot of the language referring to mythical beasts and ancient cities... so a lot of the show seemed neither here nor there, temporally. Gibson could have easily translated the ancient tales of the Cyclops and the Land of the Lotus Eaters to more realistic contemporary dangers, and the show would've been better for it. Unfortunately, mixing the myth in with what was supposed to be a current story was a little a jarring.

I also was a little disappointed in the casting... here's where a year spent at the Shakespeare Theatre Company has made me a bit of a snob, as I've learned how to recognize actors who have had classical training. It really does make such a difference. I hate criticizing stage actors, since I know it's a much more difficult profession than it may look. But in this case, except for the actress who gives a strong performance as the daughter, I was underwhelmed.

That being said, I do think the design of the show was creative. The set was pretty stark but functioned well from bedroom scenes to a press conference and back, and the most inventive part of the whole production was how it incorporated video into the show. The back wall of the set became a giant screen that showed live footage of the play itself, offering the audience a new perspective on both the action onstage and behind the scenes - extending the set itself by hinting at other rooms just off the stage. You can sorta see what I'm talking about in the photos here on Woolly's page for the show. So, kudos to the design team.

Well, even though I didn't love the show, I'm glad I went. I'm sticking with my dramatic resolution of seeing more theatre, and that sometimes includes opportunities to think critically about how a production could be better.

Saturday
I went in for a second helping of drama this week with my subscription to The Studio Theatre and its production of Conor McPherson's The Shining City. My old home, PPT, had done a production of McPherson's Irish ghost story The Weir several years back, so I was looking forward to seeing him give the genre another shot.

After my disappointment on Wednesday, I put some heavy expectations on poor Studio as it had to redeem contemporary theatre for me, at least for the time being. Thankfully, I really enjoyed this one!

The story worked well. Ian, a former priest/new therapist, is adjusting to his new life, finding a bit of inspiration in his first patient. Ed Gero, a DC fave, does a great job as John, the man haunted by his wife's death and struggling with guilt over his own infidelities. In a case of "physician, heal thyself," Ian explores his own path as he counsels John, and the language and performances both convey what feels like a very real story. In my book, that's a great accomplishment. The set design works well, and I liked the way the contemporary music set the mood. All in all, it was a good afternoon at the theatre.

Sunday
Finally, today a few friends and I braved the holiday weekend tourists at the National Gallery to take in the Edward Hopper exhibit. I've been looking forward to this one for a long time. Hopper has always been one of my favorite artists, and his work always brings about a bit of nostalgia in me, as his New England looks a lot like my Upstate NY home.

Hopper is probably best known for his oils, like the iconic and often-imitated "Nighthawks," and there were several good examples included in this show. My favorites, however, are his watercolors depicting scenes of Gloucester, Mass, Maine, and Cape Cod. I particularly like his study of the lighthouses in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, as well as one of his early notable works, "The Mansard Roof."



I took a bunch of notes on my gallery guide to help remember what I wanted to say about the exhibit... but since this post is already getting quite long, I'll just treat you to the actual scribbles themselves:

• watercolors as precise as oils
• solo figures in urban landscapes = isolation and loneliness surrounded by humanity
• immortalized the everyday
• abstraction even in representation

This was a great way to spend a Sunday morning... and speaking of spend, I dropped more than 90 bucks on Hopperabilia at the gift shop! Ah, museums love me.

Fall on Campus

While in Indiana a few weeks back, on breaks during the Dalai Lama's lectures, I had the chance to explore a bit of IU's Bloomington campus (alma mater to every member of my family but me). The leaves had just started to turn, and there were a few perfect scenes of fall.

No End in Sight

No End In Sight, the very well-reviewed recent documentary by filmmaker and former Brookings fellow Charles Ferguson, is the most clear-sighted, educational film I've seen about the Iraq War. And I've seen several... this one is different. It skips the usual inflammatory propagandizing and really attempts to explain what has happened and how we got to where we are in Iraq today. This is not a movie about whether or not we should be in Iraq; instead, it is a movie about how the war could have turned out so much better, for the US and the Iraqis.

Ferguson focuses on the administration's policy, mostly by interviewing a variety of people, some very highly placed, who were in policy-making or advising roles over the last 6 years. The film follows the timeline of decisions from September 11 to the establishment of an Iraq reconstruction team (just 2 months before the invasion) to the March 2003 launch of the war itself, then through the next year or so of the occupation/reconstruction.

What seems to be the most crucial time period, in hindsight, is that spring of 2003. The initial team charged with reconstruction, people like General Jay Garner and Ambassador Barbara Bodine and Colonel Paul Hughes (all of whom appear in this film), was working in dire conditions to put forth strategies to rebuild Iraq. They faced immediate challenges, including a nation overrun by looting and no authority or capacity to stop it, but were working with the military and beginning to put strategies in place to start rebuilding infrastructure and improving life for Iraqi civilians.

But within a few short months, for reasons that aren't really discussed in the film, this initial team from ORHA are all replaced by Paul Bremer and his Coalition Provisional Authority. The CPA then proceeds in just its first few days to make and implement several decisions that now appear to have allowed for - even created - the chaos and the insurgency of the last few years. The two main decisions detailed in the film as catastrophic in their effect were de-Ba'athification and the disbanding of the Iraqi Army. I've heard these policies discussed over the past few years, but this film has now really helped me understand the social and economic impact of the policies and their devastating effects on the Iraqi people.

The film makes it clear that an ongoing problem in the running of this war is the lack of communication and cooperation between Defense and State, and even within different departments in Defense as the civilians often overruled the advice of the military. As you might expect, the film makes Rumsfeld, Cheney and Wolfowitz out to be the real architects of this disaster, with Rice by their side. Bush is still somewhat of an enigma, as none of the subjects in the film really go so far as to say he was the leader in all this, nor do they say that he was uninvolved. In some cases they imply that Rumsfeld was making major decisions on his own.... and that Bush at least appeared to allow him to do so. History still has to judge what the President's own role is in this administration, I can't figure it out yet

If, like me, you're still very curious about Colin Powell's role in and perspective on this decision-making, it's worth watching the DVD extra that shows extended footage of Richard Armitage's interview. I don't want to put words in his mouth by trying to paraphrase, so watch the movie and learn.

This documentary doesn't propose any solutions, unfortunately, but it goes a long way in supporting the hypothesis that the US's own missteps in the early days of the Iraq War created the insurgency. And perhaps more cold, hard analysis like this will help people remove the politics from the situation and enable more strategic thinking about how we can help end the War and return Iraq to its own people.

How Do You Sign "Rest In Peace" ?

I just learned the really sad news that Washoe, the beloved chimpanzee who was the first to communicate through sign language, has died.

Washoe was a bit of an inspiration for me when I was younger. Early in my 20's, I worked at the Pittsburgh Zoo. I would often spend my lunch hours just watching the gorillas in their habitat, constantly amazed at how they expressed themselves and their relationships to each other and to us humans that stood so close. I was really interested in learning more about the Great Apes and their intelligence, and I still have half a shelf full of some of the great books that I read at the time.

My favorite, by far, was called Next of Kin: What Chimpanzees Have Taught Me About Who We Are (or, in paperback, Next of Kin: My Conversations with Chimpanzees) by Roger Fouts. Fouts was a psychologist who studied primate communication, primarily by observing and interacting with a young female chimpanzee named Washoe. Starting as a baby chimp in the NASA space program, Washoe becomes the matriarch of a clan of chimpanzees who learn to "speak" with their human counterparts through sign language. She became the first non-human animal to communicate with ASL, and in teaching her own son Loulis he became the first to learn human language from another animal. Their signing is sharing more than just simple words, but bridging the divide between animal and human to communicate and build relationships based on who we really are. I read this book nearly 10 years ago, but I still remember laughing and tearing up at the amazing stories of Washoe's experiences with her human friends, and the larger implications of what it means to be able to understand each other.

This was a story that really hit me, hard. As I said, I was working at the Zoo, interacting with every kind of animal imaginable (including the human tourist kind, not always my favorite). I had always grown up with animals, on the farm and with six (!!!) pet Scotties who truly were treated as siblings. And, at right around the same time as I read this book, trusty cat Cleo entered my life (and it has never been the same).

Reading about Washoe, living with Cleo, and seeing those amazing creatures at the Zoo every day forced me to reconsider my own relationship with animals... these remarkable other creatures who were really not so different from us, who had a whole world of intelligence and emotions all their own. After a lot of thought and one final steak on New Year's Eve 1998, I gave up eating red meat. A few years after that, I went further and eliminated poultry and seafood from my diet, becoming a full vegetarian. I believed really strongly in my reasons for doing so, and, in part, I had Washoe to thank for those convictions.

I am no longer a vegetarian. My body and my basic cravings eventually won out over my moral/ethical side, and I've learned to live with that inner conflict. I still have regrets about that decision...and I often regret the loss of that younger me, who in hindsight seems a lot less cynical and a lot more ready to believe in things.

Perhaps less famous than Koko, her fellow signing ape, Washoe has nonetheless earned her place in my memory. In her own small way, Washoe has become a part of who I am, and I will always thank her for that.

Where Is This All Coming From?

I am having a hard time transitioning back to real life from my visit with the Dalai Lama last week. Why? Because I was lucky enough to spend 4 days considering peace, and compassion, and happiness, and now I'm back in the world with all of the really disturbing news stories that are going on. And this time, my concern has nothing to do with Iraq, or Iran, or North Korea... or even Bush or Cheney.

What's really striking me this week is that somehow, from somewhere, this country seems to just be boiling over with HATE. Where did this all come from?

Whether it's nooses and swastikas on professors' doors, or Fred Phelps screaming about his right to spew at soldiers' funerals, or Lou Dobbs launching a tirade at Governor Spitzer in his ongoing crusade against illegal immigrants, or even local blogs' comment threads about DC taxi drivers that are stooping to ethnic stereotypes and horrible slurs... it just seems like there is so much HATE everywhere.

Is this a product of the re-emerging culture wars? I can understand people getting really riled up and ranting about elected officials, as I do myself, as they are the ones who put themselves out there as the face of policy. But what I find really disturbing about these latest trends is that they all seem to involve people directing their hate towards other regular, everyday people.

Is this mood a product of our increasingly violent culture? Or, oops, maybe it does go back to the top... does our national policy of pre-emptive violence somehow affect people at the everyday level, validating feelings of aggression and divisiveness? Or.... is this another instance of the media trumping up just a few cases that seem to indicate a trend that isn't really there? (I find that doubtful, however...]

What can we do to curb all this volatility? Before the national mood tips more towards violence? I worry that we're all sitting on a giant powder keg....

(Note: The NYTimes had a great op-ed about how charged and prejudicial the term "illegals" is... hate emerges in language as well as in action. Check it out.)