Archive for May, 2009

By Dean Cassella

I always look forward to seeing new incarnations of the Star Trek franchise, and this latest film, simply titled Star Trek, was no exception.  Although many disliked the last series, Enterprise, I had found it to be a refreshing change from the saccharine characters oft to be found in Voyager and, at times, Next Generation. Enterprise attempted to go back to the early, swashbuckling “cowboy diplomacy” days of the original series. So, for me the idea of extending the theme to a kind of prequel of the The Original Series was appealing. The film seems to have generated a lot of positive reviews (Rotten Tomatoes has given it 95%).

When I took my two older boys (ages 12 and 14) to see it, I was expecting, if anything, a thrilling ride. The opening of the film—it turns out that Captain Kirk was born on an escape pod in deep space—piqued my interest and then . . . it was all downhill from there. 

You may ask why I took to disliking the film, especially when almost everybody else seems to love it? This calls for a bit of explanation, so please bear with me.

Among university teachers today there is a term that is occasionally bandied about: the “digital natives.” These are the current freshmen and sophomores who were raised from the youngest age with the internet, ipods, text-messaging, etc. It has been said that they have a particularly difficult time focusing on anything that is not delivered in an electronic format, and even when it is electronic, their attention span is very short indeed. Such young adults, for example, tend to describe ‘old’ films (i.e. those produced before they were born) as “boring.” I suspect this is a result of constant exposure to video games and film editing that make the two-second-per-cut TV commercials of yesteryear appear glacially slow by comparison.  

I would further add that the hallmark feature of the digital natives’ primary and secondary education has been a steady diet of self-esteem training. Such young people tend to have an aggressively positive view of their supposed academic/professional accomplishments, and often become impatient with anybody who suggests otherwise. With many of these young adults, to insist upon correct grammar or the use of non-internet based sources when writing essays brings frustrated accusations of pedantry against teachers. Learning how to express oneself in an articulate, grammatically correct manner appears to many of them to be a waste of time. Moreover, failure to learn how to do these things supposedly will have no bearing on the exciting, high-paying careers they believe are their due.

Obviously, not every young person conforms to this dreary scenario (I have had some excellent students from this group in my own classes), but the effects can definitely be seen everyday at the State U.

So what, you may ask, does this have to do with Star Trek? Quite simply, I find the film to be mythmaking for the digital natives. The producers of Star Trek want us to believe that James Kirk was essentially a hard-drinking, muscle car/motorcycle driving yahoo with a criminal record, before deciding to sign up with Star Fleet. His recruiter, Captain Pike, explains that this is just the type of person that Star Fleet needs. The situation reminds me of a friend’s wry assessment of Terminator II at its premiere run: “white trash people save the Earth!!” Although the film barely alludes to Kirk’s three years in the academy (how boring!), we are rest assured that his extremely high aptitude scores more than compensated for his deviant misbehavior. 

I have yet to speak to a parent whose child was doing poorly in school that did not claim that said child was ‘brilliant’ but simply lacked the focus and motivation to do outstanding academic work. 

Mr. Spock, as it turns out, was a rebel in his own right. Understandably touchy about his half-human origins in a society as racist as is that of the Vulcans, Spock over compensates by throwing himself into his studies, and by striving to be an über-Vulcan. All this is well and good, until almost everybody, including his own father and his older self (thanks to yet another breach in the time-space continuum . . .yawn . . .) urges him to get in touch with his emotions! One of the most well-defined traits of the Vulcans in the Star Trek universe is that they systematically repress their emotions: to do otherwise results in a return to brutal savagery. Consider what happened to T’Pol in Enterprise when a charming rebel Vulcan talked her into getting in touch with herself and quitting her meditations … she became violent! But in modern ideology, getting in touch with your feelings and ‘letting go’ is a necessary prelude to brilliance.

There are other such problems with characterization throughout the cast of characters. One example must suffice for now: Uhura (who in the Original Series was a refined and genteel lady) is now an alcoholic. I do not see any other way to interpret her first appearance in the film, wherein she walks into a bar and orders several drinks for herself, to be filled all at once. The scene cannot help but remind me of the binge drinking problem that plagues American college campuses. In digital native lore, women are supposed to be able to hold their liquor as well as men can (no matter if this flies in the face of current research in both science and social science) and hedonism never gets in the way of brilliant accomplishment.

The film’s idea of moving into high action is to ask us to believe that a whole motley crew of greenhorns (the only seasoned officer of any note on the bridge is Captain Pike, and Mr. Sulu does not even know how to disengage the emergency brake of the Enterprise!) sets out on its maiden voyage to answer a distress call from the planet Vulcan. Pike is quickly dispatched, which then leads to a power struggle for command of the ship between Kirk and Spock.  It should be added that Kirk is, for all intents and purposes, a stowaway who was barred from participating due to misbehavior at the Academy. In the end, it turns out that the raw recruits save the day, and Kirk is transformed from a court-marshaled lieutenant to captain of the ship literally overnight. 

Now that’s what many people today, particularly, I would argue, young people, want to hear. Raw talent, which, due to self-esteem training seems to be in enormous abundance (think of Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegone “where every kid is above average”), will cover any number of follies and indiscretions, and catapult the bearer to superstardom. Although the original Captain Kirk was on the impulsive side, it was also true that he was a very hardworking and disciplined young man (how could he have been otherwise?) I distinctly remember him describing himself as drearily serious at the academy. If I were on the crew of the Enterprise, the new Kirk would inspire no confidence in me whatsoever, simply because it would be obvious that he was going to get himself killed, and me along with him.

The acting in the film was, overall, quite good, but the editing is so fast that it is sometimes hard to focus on the story. Even at those brief moments when two people are merely talking each other, the camera has to swirl around them in a frenetic way. 

In conclusion, the film may well prove to be the perfect symbol of American culture and society as it makes the transition from its Silver Age to its Bronze Age. Let us hope that, for us, there is someone left responsible enough to steer the ship.

From a press release by the City

FORT WORTH - Pink lights will illuminate the night sky Saturday, May 30, on Lancaster Avenue as the City of Fort Worth shows its support for Amy Mickelson and the thousands diagnosed with breast cancer each year in the United States.

The 36-foot stainless steel sculptures known as Avenue of Light, a public art project, will shine pink in concert with the “Pink Out” at the Crown Plaza Invitational golf tournament at Colonial Country Club.

Phil Mickelson was scheduled to defend his title at this year’s tournament. He suspended his touring schedule indefinitely after his wife, Amy, was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Tournament players, their wives and caddies will wear pink on Saturday to help promote awareness for breast cancer research.

Fans are encouraged to go “pink” as well.

“Showing our support for Phil and Amy as well as the thousands of families in America affected by this terrible disease is the Fort Worth way,” said Mayor Mike Moncrief. “We encourage Fort Worth residents to pray for Amy’s speedy recovery and that researchers will find a cure for breast cancer.”

The pink clothing will be the most visible sign of support, and fans will be able to donate to the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Donors giving at least $5 will receive a pink breast cancer pin at the main entrances and concession stands at Colonial.
In addition to the “Pink Out”, fans can sign a banner of support at the par-3 13th hole on the Colonial course. The banner will be sent to the Mickelsons.

The City of Fort Worth’s public art program commissioned Avenue of Light as part of Lancaster Avenue’s reconstruction. The sculptures’ contemporary design was inspired by the nearby Texas & Pacific Terminal’s Art Deco architectural details. It will be illuminated nightly beginning June 25.

If you have a rosemary plant, this is something you can do with the leaves. If you don’t, you can buy the leaves in the herbs section of the grocery. 

We use only home grown here.

Make a brining solution by combining 1/2 cup salt, 10 garlic cloves, chopped, 3 rosemary sprigs, leaves stripped off, and 8 cups water.  Submerge the chicken in the brine and let “brine” for one hour.

While you’re doing that, make the rub for the chicken. Use 2 teaspoons finely chopped rosemary leaves, 2 garlic cloves, minced, 1/8 teaspoon salt, a few grindings of black pepper, and 1 tablespoon olive oil.  Have this in a small bowl. Pull the bird out of the brine, pat dry and place on a roasting rack over a baking dish (ideal) or platter.

Now lift the skin of the bird and push some of the rub under the skin. Put some under the breast skin and some under the back skin. Try to get some of the rub in all the places you can reach under the skin, though I’ve never figured out how to get any into the drumsticks.

Now truss the chicken. Use only cotton cooking twine or (my own favorite) peaches and cream cotton yarn, the type you use for making dishclothes. First, tie the drumsticks together. Then, the wings. Now is the two person part. With one person holding the bird up, make a loop around the breast and the wings, pull tight and tie. Now make another loop around the legs and the back of the bird. Pull tight.

You can still roast the bird untrussed but it won’t be as moist and evenly cooked. 

Now roast the bird at 450 degrees for 30 minutes, turn over, and roast at 375 degrees about 30 to 40 minutes until interior temperature reaches 160 degrees for the breast, and 175 for the thigh. If you don’t have a thermometer, you can try the old “till juices run clear” test but I find it unreliable. If your remove the bird, cut it up, and there are pieces that aren’t all the way done (oh horror) don’t dispair, put them in the microwave for a minute or two.

Serve with rice and a nice green salad or whatever vegetable you have in the ‘fridge.

We had career day at our elementary school today.  Although I’m the music teacher, I did have to take a class to see one presentation, by the Southwest Dairy Farmers, which consisted of one representative dairy farmer, and one representative cow, a Jersey named Maggie.

“That’s my mother’s name,” one of the kids I was in charge of told me as Maggie was introduced.

The man who ran the show, Farmer Dave, wore a huge straw cowboy hat, sunglasses (he took them off for a second so, he said, we could “check out his eyeballs”) and a long, long handlebar moustache. He looked like a cross between a biker dude and a country western dancer. 

Maggie stood in the trailer, which opened so you could see her whole body, with only two metal bars holding her inside. She was pulling down hay from a net hanging in front of her, and looked as us out of the corner of her eye with an expression less friendly than that of Daisy the milkbottle cow, but of course not malevolent. She was, after all, a cow.

Dave told us a little bit about the importance of drinking milk — three glasses a day — and then demonstrated the milking process using a milking machine, all installed neatly in the trailer, with a door opened so you could see the fresh white milk splash into the collection bottle. It was really quite impressive. 

Before he started this job,  he said, he used to milk 600 cattle three times a day — they give more milk that way than if you milk them twice — and even with the machine that got a bit fatiquing. So travelling for the Dairy Farmers with Maggie was actually less work. He nows farms, we might say, public relations opportunities.

The presentation, for first grade and kintergarden, was short and sweet, emphasizing that milk comes from cows and it is good for you. “Take care of your body,” Farmer Dave said at the end. “Your body is going to be the most valuable thing you have until you have your own children.”

That was a fine way to end a fine presentation, and I gave Farmer Dave and the Southwest Dairy Farmers an A.

A couple of weeks ago, a piece of paper arrived on our doorknob, inviting us to a block party last weekend. It sounded fun — they had arranged for a bounce house and a visit with the fire truck. On the other hand, I had never been to a block party for our neighborhood — there hasn’t been one in a coon’s age, apparently — or met any of these people, although we’ve lived here for three and a half years. I was nervous.

Still, we needed to meet our neighbors, especially since the burglary and all. We got our hamburgers and cupcakes to share ready, and looked up the hill, to where the party was said to be occurring, around a bend in the road and behind a barricade set up by the city. We couldn’t see what or who was up there, or even if the party the flyer had announced was happening. What if we showed up and there was no one there?

I was too scared to go. I didn’t want to walk in like I knew what I was doing, when I didn’t. How could I gather more information before showing up? I looked at the kids. “Go ride bikes up there and scout out the scene.”

Perhaps they understood my feelings, because they hesitated, but then they rode up the hill. When they came back, they approved. “There’s one of these jump things, a bunch of tables, a tent-like thing, and some barbecues,” they reported.

It sounded promising. We walked up, reassured by the reconnaissance I’d ordered. And sure enough, our neighbors turned out to be good folks. Of all ages, the adults were wearing nametags with their address on them. And you know what — they were fun! We liked them. We ate our dinner, were never left standing off to the side with no one to talk to, and by the end of the evening, we felt like we’d gained some friends. Our local policeman stopped by and said no one on his beat had done the block party in 5 years … that’s too long. As the twilight came on and people began rolling up their blankets and carrying away their chairs, I felt real gratitude to those who’d put it on, and to the fact that I hadn’t chickened out, as I’d felt like doing.

Fortune favors the brave.

 Fort Worth is about halfway through their meetings discussing the large aggressive dog problem.  To see the original blog post, see “Fort Worth to Patrol for Pit Bulls? From a press release by the City:

What:

The fourth in a series of public meetings to gather input on concepts recently presented by the city’s Code Compliance staff that aim to be proactive in addressing the growing number of stray animals – particularly large, aggressive dogs – in the city.

When:

6 to 9 p.m. Thursday

Where:

Meadowbrook United Methodist Church, 3900 Meadowbrook Drive

Schedule of remaining meetings

• 6-9 p.m. Thursday, June 4 – Goodwill Industries, Community Garden Room, 4005 Campus Drive
• 9 a.m.-noon Saturday, June 6 – Fort Worth Botanic Garden, Dorothea Leonhardt Lecture Hall, 3220 Botanic Garden Blvd.

If you’ve been using twitter, you may be irritated when people send you auto-DM’s trying to sell stuff. Though most would say this stuff is just garbage, I decided to try to make something useful — a blog post — out of some DM’s I received this week, headlined and with my unsent commentary underneath.

Get followers faster than a speeding bullet:

DM: Thanks for the Follow! Would you Like to Know How to get 16’000 Followers in 90 Days and Make Money doing it?

(Well, at least he didn’t advertise a geometric progression of gaining followers. I still don’t believe this guy.)

Playing on Looking for Lonely Women:

DM: (This was from this cutie-pie-guy type avatar) Hi, Let me get to know you. @Reply me with your favorite RE investing method …

(Not sure what RE investing is or what this guy is after but either way I’m not interested … )

1000′s per day Online

DM: Learn First Hand How to Make $1000′s Per Day Online From Two 26 Year-Old Internet Millionaires!” We Can Teach ANYONE To Succeed

(If they can teach anyone to make 1,000′s a day online money isn’t going to be worth very much, for very long. The only people they’re really planning to help get rich is themselves.)

No Effort Required

DM: Want to know how to make money on Ad clicks with no effort, check this out.

(I’d love to make money with no effort but since I’ve never seen anyone make money without trying, except by inheriting, I don’t believe this one either.)

This one didn’t grate until I received it 4 or 5 times:

DM: Hey, thanks for the follow. I’m looking for four serious entrepreneurs. click here:

(Sorry, I am not an entrepreneur and if I was, I’d be in the garage or on the phone developing stuff, not messing around on Twitter. )

I’m Not Sure What You Mean, But Since You Mentioned Making Money I’m Suspicious

DM: Hello,Tweets is fun if you start getting lots of followers.You could earn some small money while having fun too .Just check this out, it is simple to set up and I can even do it for you

(ah, so it’s a pay-per-tweet scheme.)

Shades of Benjamin Franklin

DM: Thx, Let’s enjoy life & share success the Healthy, Wealthy & Wise Way.

To finish the rhyme: Early to be and early to rise makes a man healthy and wealth and wise. Nothing about Twitter in that rhyme, over 200 years old.

What do you do with these? I deal with these DM’s on Tweetdeck. Tweetdeck has an easy “other actions” button on DM’s. One of the other actions is “unfollow.” Now you know. You can add everyone who adds you, and just unfollow those who send these kinds of DM’s. Save time (but not money.) But you aren’t on twitter for money, are you?

From a press release by the City:

FORT WORTH - Two local neighborhood associations earned honors in the 2009 Neighborhood of the Year Awards, presented last week at the 34th Neighborhoods USA (NUSA) Conference on Neighborhood Concerns in Spokane, Wash.

The North Beverly Hills Neighborhood Association placed first in the Social Revitalization/Neighborliness category. Members worked with their Neighborhood Policing District and Code Compliance officers to proactively address neighborhood safety after a sudden crime increase.

The Ryan Place Improvement Association placed third in the Social Revitalization/Neighborliness category. The association developed multiple fundraising events, including an annual holiday tour of homes to provide for the installation and maintenance of period street lights.

The Historic Fairmount Neighborhood Association was a finalist in the Multi-Neighborhood Partnerships category. Through collaborative efforts, the association presents an annual home tour showcasing the neighborhood’s historic and architectural heritage.

Through these awards, NUSA recognizes the outstanding work of neighborhood organizations. Created in 1975, NUSA encourages networking and information sharing as a way to facilitate partnerships between neighborhood organizations, government and the private sector. This year marked the 25th anniversary of the Neighborhood of the Year Awards.

Fort Worth ISD’s TAKS results have been delayed due to the swine flu closure according to Eva-Marie at the Extra Credit Blog … the City is in danger of wasting money on a new post office, according to Austin at Fort Worth Real Estate.  Bishop Iker of the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth is trying to keep local church property with the local diocese in opposition to a lawsuit brought by the national church after the Fort Worth diocese went into schism.

Fortworthology writes about Urbanism and a recent visit to Portland … unfortunately despite many good open spaces in Portland, and many fountains, they apparently have gone in for the bright red modern art in the middle of the plaza look …

Kevin of 5ksandcabernets will make a try for the Boston marathon … Dave at Dallas Photoworks has done some interpretive photos of the Botanic Garden …  Richie Escovedo tells communicators and the rest of us “never let go of  your effectiveness.” Eleiva sees the movie Night at the Museum and calls it “a plain action movie in which the most fun is brought to you by the joy of just, well, fighting.” Then she takes a second big swing at the Big Art Issues and discusses whether cultural artifacts should be removed from their historic homes.

The Amon Carter blog is showing a group of Edwardian-era photos by Gertrude Käsebier … finally, an exhibit about Cynthia Ann and Quanah Parker will be held at UTA May 8 to June 30.

In childhood, we didn’t go to the cemetary on memorial day, since no one from my immediate family was there to be visited, and so the idea of the holiday to commemorate U.S. soldiers lost in battle was somewhat lost on me for decades.  It took many years, as many as I have now lived, in fact, for me to wake up one memorial day morning and ask myself  “who was the last member of my family to fall in battle?” Surely, there were some losses somewhere. My family has been here in the U.S. for a long time — the last immigrant arrival was 1880, and more than one line of descent apparently goes all the way back to the Mayflower — so surely someone served and fell in war.

I reflect: so far the men under 50 in our clan, like Bill Clinton, did not serve, although my father did, between Korea and Vietnam. The last member of the family to see wartime action was probably my great uncle Don, who flew in the Pacific in World War II; and my mother believes that my great uncle Herb must have been the one who brought the German Mauser rifle, said to have been taken from a dead German soldier, home to Minnesota from his tour during the U.S. invasion of Germany, and leave it to my grandfather.

To find an actual fallen soldier in the family, you’d have to go back to 1918, and the Great War. My great-grandfather, George, had been married to a young woman of his home town for long enough for my grandfather to be born when the marriage split up, a terrific scandal in those Edwardian days, and George decided, at the relatively late age of 35, to enlist in the service, to get out of Wisconson and away from everything and everyone there.  He served as leutenant, and is said to have died in March, 1918, somewhere in France, though his body was never found.

I asked my mother about this today, as she visited for dinner on her 70th birthday, and she retold the story. Right away my son chimed in, “if they never found his body, how do you know he’s dead?” he asked.

“He went out, and he didn’t come back,” my mother said, as she ate her birthday cake, “what else could have happened?” Suddenly for some reason, the whole situation seemed hilarious, and she was laughing, laughing helplessly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know, it’s not funny, it’s not. But what were they supposed to think? He was gone.”

My son shrugged, satisfied, wandered off to play somewhere in the living room. She looked around at all of us. “You know, lately on the TV I heard the strangest thing,” she said. “Sure, there were unknown soldiers in the war. But they said that some of the guys who were listed as killed in action actually deserted and stayed in France. They just didn’t want to come back, they started a whole new life there. It occured to me that my grandfather could have done that. He would have had the reasons.”

We looked at each other. No doubt, either way, he was gone by now. But the idea of the alternative tragedies — killed in war, or living as a man without a country, in a foreign land, struck me as poignant. “Does anyone know any more about the story? I asked mom.

“You’d have to talk to my sister, she keeps the family history records.” My mom finished her coffee. “She has it all on a pdf somewhere. She even went to Wisconsin and checked the court records, talked to people.”

I stared at my mother. Suddenly the image of my ancestors flared up, large, living, and mysterious. It was a good way to feel on memorial day, to remember those who served, to respect, and to wonder.