Musings from a Museum

In his book, Windows of the Soul, Ken Gire talks of how the most ordinary circumstances and the most mundane experiences can become extraordinary if we are paying attention. I had such an experience last Saturday, when I visited one of our local art museums with my wife, two sons and grandson. Following are some random musings:

• I have been to many of the finest museums in the world, and still find myself in awe of the fact that I really am looking at the original painting, or the real object, that was created by hands just like mine hundreds or even thousands of years ago. This time I was marveling at some of the masters from the Dutch Golden Age, including the master himself, Rembrandt van Rijn. What struck me in particular was their uncanny understanding of light; it's as if they were able to capture in time something so ethereal and transient (perhaps evasive is a better word) that it's like stardust. The reproduction above does next to nothing to convey the astounding depiction of light in van Steenwijk's Christ in the House of Martha and Mary. And hardly a brushstroke to be seen. One thing that also sets the Dutch Masters apart from other Renaissance and Baroque painters is their portrayal of ordinary scenes and people, shedding the obligation to paint Biblical scenes or portraits of monarchs and nobles. This is likely due to the Protestant Reformation, having firmly taken root in the Netherlands, which taught the sanctity of all aspects of life, not only what is deemed religious. (The flip side of this is that Protestant churches were stripped of countless priceless works of art under the austere interpretation of the Calvinists.)
• I love to people watch at museums. Some snapshots that caught my eye: a young father and his barely-teenage son remarking on the art, the son sharing some of what he had learned in school about the techniques used here; a 40-ish man joining an elderly gentleman (easily 80 by my estimation) for a morning at the museum. There was an obvious bond of friendship between the two men, and it reminded me that souls need not know the limitations of age difference. I am fortunate enough to foster deep friendships between people much older and much younger than I, and believe we are only enriched by transgenerational relationships.
• The innovative work of Camille Utterback was a source of wonder for all of us, including my almost-two-year-old grandson. Her use of interactive technology, combined with whimsical creativity, is not only entertaining but a reminder that we are constantly interacting with our surroundings.

I came away feeling a rich man, probably because I was awake enough to be paying attention -- which, I must confess, is not always the case.

Fools Rush In

I've been in Bosnia for the last couple of weeks.

Not in person, but vicariously through author Bill Carter. If you're a regular reader of my blog, you know that I was in Serbia last summer as a speaker at the Sozo Festival. One of my reasons for going was to get better educated on the Balkan conflict, which ultimately dates back centuries, not decades. I was moved by many things -- most of all by the resilience and warmth of the people I met, keen to move forward in peace and prosperity. 

Most of us who have not known war up close and personal tend to think that the lines drawn in war are clear: this side against that, this tribe against that, this ethnicity against that. It is almost always more nuanced. For example, my interpreter, a gentle man with a noble heart named Bože (pron. bozheh), is half Serbian and half Bosnian. Yet, as a Serbian citizen, he was expected to join in the collective nationalist sentiment of the Balkans of the 1990's. Yes, the Serbs did commit atrocities during the war, for which their ring leaders were prosecuted for war crimes at the International Court in The Hague; but the people of today's Serbia (i.e. the ones I met) are eager to put the past behind.

No conflict is one-sided, but Carter's first-hand account of the siege of Sarajevo is a heartbreaking tale of a proud, sophisticated city brought to its knees as experienced by many of the city's artists and other creatives, as well as ordinary citizens caught in a prison for no crime they committed. For three endless years, the Sarajevans had to carefully plot the simplest errand for fear of being taken out by a Serbian sniper in the surrounding hills. Fuel, electricity, food and other life staples quickly became a scarcity as faces thinned and eyes became hollow. Yet the city lived on -- that is, all but the estimated 12,000 who were either killed or went missing during the longest siege in a capital city in the history of modern warfare.

Driven by grief over the tragic loss of his girlfriend, Carter ends up in the former Yugoslavia and joins up with a ragtag group of humanitarian aid workers who do anything but play by the rules -- bureaucratic UN rules that can be so complex as to defeat the purpose of relieving the suffering altogether. Carter befriends a number of artists and other culture shapers in this avant-garde city, and his life is forever changed by them. The narrative of the Sarajevo siege is almost completely lost on the outside world until Bill Carter has an idea. Fools Rush In chronicles a series of unlikely but true events that culminate in the band U2 streaming Carter and his Bosnian friends' testimonies live to their European concerts attended by 50,000+ per night. The band ultimately arranges to do a concert in Sarajevo once the fighting is over (1997), and the well know song, Miss Sarajevo, deservedly if belatedly brings the plight of the city to the world's attention.

Fools Rush In is not for the faint of heart. It is raw and very real. But if you feel a need to be shaken out of a comfortable slumber -- or simply need to better understand a dark period in our recent history -- you'll be impacted by your trip to Bosnia, just as I was.

Cleaning Up Sandy's Mess

First thing tomorrow morning, my wife Becky and I leave for Ocean City, New Jersey, where we will participate in the cleanup and recovery in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. I am a trained reservist with Hope Force International, and this will be my first deployment.

I am letting you know not so you will think we are some kind of heroes for giving up our Thanksgiving -- we are incredibly spoiled by the fact that all three of our sons, our two daughters-in-law and our grandson all live within ten minutes. We are doing our best not to take this for granted, as we know this season will probably not last forever. It is not as if we had family coming in from the four corners to be with us on Thanksgiving. We treasure every time our immediately family is able to be together. 

I am letting you know because I'm sure a number of you are interested to know what conditions on the ground really are like in the wake of this disaster. While we had a flooded basement after the 2010 flood in Nashville and had to replace several appliances, that pales in comparison with the plight of more than 30,000 people in parts of New Jersey, New York and Connecticut who have been left homeless in Sandy's wake.

Since I'm not at all sure I'll be able to blog about our observations while we're there, I'll most likely be posting occasional updates on Facebook -- so please feel free to follow me there. I'm sure it will be a Thanksgiving we won't soon forget.

Happy Thanksgiving.

This Day in 1517...

On this date in 1517, history changed forever.

It was on October 31, 1517 that Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of All Saints' Church in Wittenberg, Germany. The resulting uproar can be felt to this day. From what we know, Luther  never intended to formally sever his ties with the Catholic Church. In fact, he denounced the peasant revolt that his writings sparked and sided with the nobles. He simply felt compelled to speak out against the corruption and heretical practices of his day. Little did he know that armies would march against each other in his name. Little did he know that, because of his gesture, kings would extricate themselves from the Roman Catholic church and forever change the course of their nations' history. Little did he know that the Wittenberg door would come to symbolize one of the greatest schisms in history.

Luther was no saint. He is believed to have held strong anti-Semitic beliefs. But his passion to see man in direct communication and relationship with God led him to translate the Scriptures into the language of the people, defying the exclusivity of Latin as the language of the Church.

And you thought October 31 was just Halloween.

The (Lost) Land of Civility

A recent article in The Economist struck a chord that was already resounding more and more loudly. I read The Economist for a number of reasons: being a British publication, it gives the badly needed perspective of an outside observer on US issues. Its global scope also covers international issues many American periodicals ignore. 

The writer (anonymous, an Economist trademark), put his or her finger on yet another paradox of life in these United States. Lexington, as said writer is called, has lived in a number of world capitals, including London, Beijing, Brussels, and Washington, DC. Only in Washington, however was the newly arrived Lexington met with such friendly neighbors as to offer home-cooked food and invitations to backyard softball. Such civility is actually documented by the OECD (Organization for Economic and Cooperative Development), which states that "Americans are far likelier than its average citizen to have helped a stranger in the previous month...and twice as generous when volunteering their time."

The paradox is that such a civil country is engaging in more and more UNcivil politics. Lexington observes that, although both presidential candidates talk a lot about the future, their campaigns are actually nostalgic attempts to recover the mythical power of the American dream. What the two campaigns have in common -- and the camps they represent -- is that each side blames the other for the economic woes of our time. "Seeking to blame each other for economic shifts that are bigger than either party," Democrats and Republicans openly accuse each other of sabotaging the American ethos. It has suddenly become more about being on the right side than being an American. Period.

This polarization can have devastating consequences over the long term. As partisans become increasingly inflamed by the righteousness of their relatively short-term cause, each election leaves the nation licking its progressively deeper, self-inflicted wounds. The result: a weak and introverted society incapable of confronting the challenges of being a world leader with any sort of united front. As Lexington remarks, American "trust and generosity cannot forever survive a widespread sense that they are being abused."

Lessons from Serbia

I just returned a few days ago from Novi Sad, Serbia, where the Sozo Festival was held for the first time. The purpose of the festival, founded 14 years ago by my good friend Randall Morgan, is to promote national and ethnic reconciliation among the peoples of strife-ridden Eastern Europe, primarily in the Balkan region. Over a dozen nations were represented, including Hungary, where the festival has been held 10 times in past years.


Many years ago in Switzerland, I learned a lesson from a student of mine. Born and raised in the French-speaking part of the country, she harbored a bit of an attitude towards her German-speaking countrymen. She was certainly not alone. There is an invisible barrier between the two regions that is ancient and undeniable. My student, named Catherine, recognized this unhealthy attitude in herself and decided to do something about it by finding a one-year position in Zurich, the largest city in the country -- specifically so she could get to know the German-Swiss up close. She came back with a completely different outlook on her compatriots, as well as some lasting friendships.


Although my attitude towards the Serbs was not nearly as pronounced, I realized I still looked at them primarily as the aggressors in the Balkan Wars of the 1990's. Thousands of Bosnian Muslims and Kosovar Albanians were raped and killed at the hands of Serbian soldiers, while much of the world, including most Americans, remained ignorant of the situation. I knew it was not a one-sided conflict (it rarely is), and I knew I needed to get to know some Serbs up close and personal.

I'm so glad I did. I discovered a proud but warm-hearted people, eager to show hospitality and to put the wounds of war behind them. Although I knew it academically, it came home to me that the atrocities committed in the wars were largely due to a handful of individuals, with Slobodan Milosevic as the ring leader. (He died in his prison cell in the Hague in 2006 while on trial for war crimes.) Today's generation of Serbs desires peace and relationship with the rest of the world. Pictured at right is my interpreter, Boža, and wife Sylvia. Boža was not only an excellent translator, but a remarkable human being. We had many meaningful conversations about our respective cultures and how much we can learn from each other.

At left is Darijo (pron. 'dario'), the local organizer for the festival. Darijo has attended numerous Sozo Festivals in the past and was ecstatic to be able to bring this great event to his native Novi Sad, the second largest city in Serbia on the banks of the Danube. His passion for his own nation was contagious, as he brought lessons learned abroad back to his home soil.


In the seminar I taught, I invited each of the participants, from 8-10 different nations, to look inside and identify the cultural traits they have inherited, as well as those they have chosen. We all have choices when it comes to our culture, and our lives are waiting to be enriched as we learn to reject the negative aspects of our culture and embrace the beautiful things -- of our own as well as other cultures.

The Old Country

Some people might wonder why World to the Wise cultural tours have been exclusively to European destinations (so far).  The 2010 tour took us to England, France and the Netherlands, and this year’s tour saw us in Italy, France and England. While there are many, many other destinations that hold our interest (and perhaps yours as well), there are a number of reasons we have chosen to focus initially and primarily on Europe.


As Caucasian Americans, my wife and I both recognize that our roots lie almost entirely in Europe. By blood, I am actually not a Durham; my father, whose surname was originally Oatis, was adopted by an aunt who had married a man named Durham. Still, there are strong Anglo-Saxon lines in my family, as well as German. My mother’s maiden name was Knox, as in John Knox, the great Scottish church reformer. When I am in Europe, I feel a sense of connectedness, as if I were visiting grandparents I never knew. Although cultural differences abound -– both between American and European cultures and among European cultures themselves –- many “aha moments” are waiting for Americans who seek to understand their own culture better.


It also doesn’t hurt that I have lived in Europe for a total of twelve years, have friendships and contacts there from the last 30 years, and that all the languages I speak are European languages. This greatly facilitates the tours, as I’m sure any of the participants will attest. As I said earlier, there are countless other places on this planet of ours we would like to discover and/or take others to see -- for example, we hope to organize a third-world experience for Americans in the not-too-distant future (Haiti, perhaps?) –- but much of my heart, as well as much understanding of where we have come from as a culture, lies in what for many of us is The Old Country.


Tell us about your experiences visiting the land(s) of your ancestors.

Marvelability

We have just wrapped up the 2012 World to the Wise cultural tour. My wife Becky and I said goodbye to some perhaps travel-weary but no less satisfied people at Heathrow airport, while we prepared to take a few days in the Midlands and Lake District to decompress.


One of the most gratifying moments at each destination was seeing their faces when confronted with the wonders of human achievement. In Rome, for example, as soon as you come out of the metro (what Americans call subway), BAM! the Coliseum towers above you like a toothy-grinned giant. Nothing can prepare you for its imposing presence. In Paris, we took the metro from the right bank headed south; at a certain point, the train that is mostly underground becomes overground, and BAM! the Eiffel Tower looms larger than life over the Seine and the great city it adorns.


One's senses would have to be entirely dulled not to appreciate these wonders; many other things, however -- some more subtle -- awaited discovery and marveling. The gentle hills of Tuscany, home to countless olive groves and vineyards; the reminders from the Renaissance that changed the course of human history; or the awe-inspiring majesty of St. Peter's Basilica or Westminster Abbey drew more gapes and gasps than I could count.


The next few posts on this blog will be musings on this life-changing experience -- an experience which sharpens and cultivates what I like to call marvelability.

In just three days from this writing, a dozen curious souls will wing their way to an adventure of a lifetime. The 2012 World to the Wise Cultural Tour kicks off on Tuesday, June 5, and you're invited to come along via the photos, blog posts and vlogs we'll be posting. Follow us here on this blog or on Facebook ("like" the World to the Wise page while you're there!) -- and who knows, maybe you'll be among those who join us for the next great adventure.


We'll begin in Rome, the "Eternal City", then train to Pisa. Our Tuscan hosts, the Ammirabbile family, will then pick us up and take us to our home base for the next five days in the village of Montespertoli, a half hour outside Florence. After reveling in the Renaissance and Tuscan cuisine, we'll make a brief stop in the mythical canal city of Venice. An overnight sleeper train will take us from there to Paris, the City of Lights, where we'll take in as much as our senses can handle, followed by a five-day stay in London. We'll include a day trip to Oxford, along with some of the quintessential sights and experiences that British culture has to offer -- Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, cream tea, the Globe Theatre, and a spectacular performance of Les Misérables in the West End theatre district.


We look forward to sharing our impressions and experiences with you! To receive regular updates in your e-mail box, just sign up on this site!

The Two-Thirds World

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you know I am an avid proponent of overseas travel. Not so much to see how many of the world's great beaches you can enjoy, but primarily to expand your cultural horizons. I recently had the privilege of speaking at the Vanderbilt University Virtual School, a wonderful program that uses video conferencing technology to reach middle school and high school students all over the US and beyond. My assigned topic was "Travel as Cultural Education", and even though my audience in this case was middle schoolers, I gave them plenty to look forward to, encouraging them to think about how they could take advantage of opportunities to broaden their cultural landscape.


This summer my wife and I are leading a group of primarily high school students to three European countries. We take great delight in helping Americans discover new cultures, languages, and, of course, this means people. But I also like to challenge young people in another direction: spending time in the two-thirds world. What we mean by this term is the fact that two-thirds of our world still lives in conditions that almost any American would consider substandard, whether it be lack of indoor plumbing, running water, or other commodities most Westerners consider indispensable.


What does this look like? The possibilities are too numerous to mention here, but one does not have to go far to find the two-thirds world. The poorest country in the western hemisphere, Haiti, is in our back yard, a two-hour flight from Miami. You get off the plane and feel as though you're in Africa in many ways. Then there is Visiting Orphans, the organization my daughter-in-law works for that facilitates visits to orphanages in developing countries. It would be difficult to overstress the importance of getting outside one's familiar surroundings to see how "the other half" lives -- and what better time than while you're still young. Bluntly put, it is better to see how spoiled one is early on. If used properly, this experience can help shape our decisions and lifestyle for the rest of our lives.


Are you or do you have a graduating senior? Perhaps the best gift you can give them is an opportunity to see how (part of) the rest of the world lives and thinks. 

Tintin the Intrepid

All three of our sons were born in Europe, the two older sons starting school in a bilingual classroom (English/French). We spoke English in the home so the boys would be able to maintain it as their mother tongue, but we also began collecting French books and reading them to the boys from time to time. One of the earlier titles in our collection was Le Secret de la Licorne (The Secret of the Unicorn), one of the adventures of the intrepid hero Tintin. 
Tintin was the brainchild of Belgian artist Georges Rémi under the name Hergé. Rémi began writing the Tintin stories in 1930's Belgium, and the stories of the boy hero, reporter and world traveler quickly captured the imagination of young people all over the Francophone world. One of my favorite talk show hosts, Tom Ashbrook of NPR's "On Point," interviewed his own French father-in-law on his memories of reading Tintin as a young boy in the midst of the Nazi occupation of Paris.

Director Steven Spielberg has now brought Tintin to the big screen -- none too soon, as the popular European comic series has been translated into more than 50 languages and sold more than 200 millions copies worldwide. I haven't seen the movie yet (The Adventures of Tintin) -- but regardless of how many thumbs up the movie gets, it will bring back many fond memories of families the world over -- including mine.

Havel the Hero

The word "passion" is quite in vogue in our time. We want to find work we are passionate about, we are passionate about our favorite causes, and we like passionate love stories. But when we consider the etymological meaning of the word, it casts itself in a different light: we get our English word from the Greek pathos, meaning "suffering". When you list your passions in terms of what you're willing to suffer for, the list tends to shrink somewhat.


On Sunday, the world lost a man who was passionate in the purest sense of the word: Vaclav Havel, best known in the West as the leader of the 1989 so-called Velvet Revolution in what was then Czechoslovakia, passed away peacefully with his wife at his side. After more than two decades of peaceful protest, often through his plays, Havel and others brought about the demise of the Communist leadership of his country without a single shot being fired. What many of us did not know is that Havel also suffered for his cause, spending four and a half years in a Czech prison for his opposition to the oppressive, Soviet-backed Communist regime of the 1960's.


Two things strike me about the man and his life. First, the fact that a nation would elect a playwright as president. Not a politician, not a businessman, not an economist, not a diplomat. A playwright. A writer. All playwrights are not the same, but good playwrights have at least one thing in common -- an understanding of human nature. Havel seemed to have a grasp on the fundamental drives, the aspirations, the strengths and weaknesses of 20th century mankind, and I find it nothing less than astonishing now, as I did then, that a nation would turn to an artist for leadership. I have long said that artists are the mouthpiece of culture, but it is rare when a people chooses to entrust its political well-being to a playwright. Unfortunately, his leadership was attenuated when his party was voted out and Czechoslovakia became two distinct nations, the Czech Republic and Slovakia.


The other thing of note about Havel is that he chose the high road, refusing to yield to the temptation to meet violence with violence. His commitment to the non-violent protest of injustice put him in the company of monumental figures such as Gandhi, King and Mandela, and he doggedly continued to believe and profess that it is actually possible to take the moral high ground, even in the realm of politics. For this he was often dismissed as out of touch with reality. Perhaps he was not the most astute politician, but he will and must always be remembered as a noble statesman who called his people, and indeed the rest of the world who would listen, to higher ground.

Irresistible Italy

My wife and I, along with our friends Jim and Mary, just recently returned from a 10-day trip to Italy, where we were doing logistical advance work for the 2012 World to the Wise Cultural Tour. It had been 17 years since our last visit there, and Becky had never been to Rome, so there was much to see. 
I could have spent a month in Rome. It had a similar effect on me as London and Paris -- the word that comes to mind is gravitas. It's difficult to overplay the presence of the city's ancient history -- I've never been in a city that has succeeded in preserving so much of its ancient reminders. But Rome is much more than Roman ruins, more even than the Vatican and the symbolic yet paradoxical shadow it casts on the local culture. And it is virtually impossible to move about the city without noticing the astonishing attention -- and priority -- given to works of art. Even Florence, in all its Renaissance splendor, can't compete with the countless piazzas adorned with elaborate Bernini fountains and statuary.


Reluctantly leaving Rome behind, we trained to Florence, where we picked up a rental car and drove to a retreat center called Poggio Ubertini, about 30 kilometers outside the city. As we climbed the suburban hills in our peppy little Opel, the view of the Tuscan countryside below brought ooh's and ah's from the wives while I forced myself to keep my eyes on the winding road. Each day in Tuscany brought its own set of adventures, from the obligatory and timeless Renaissance masterpieces in Florence to the picturesque hill towns of Siena, San Gimignano and Monteriggioni, from the magnificent Duomo to the salt-of-the-earth Ammirabile family and their wine and olive enterprise we were able to visit. 

We cannot WAIT to introduce our tour participants to this magical land, where you are tempted to forget that the rest of the world exists -- and that's only one leg of next year's tour!

We are pleased to announce the 2012 World to the Wise Cultural Tour, taking place from approximately June 5-21, 2012. Those who participated in the 2010 tour will tell you it was an unforgettable experience that left an indelible mark on each one -- and the 2012 tour promises to be every bit as life-changing!
We'll begin our tour with a few days in London. While our bodies adjust to the time difference, we'll take in sights such as Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, the Tower of London, stroll through the Portobello Market, and hit one of the shows in the famous West End Theatre District. Then we'll hop on the Eurostar train that whisks us under the English Channel and arrive in Paris, the City of Lights.
Who can resist the sidewalk cafes, the masterpieces of the Louvre and the Musée d'Orsay, the artists' square at Montmartre, strolling by the book stalls along the Seine, and of course the Eiffel Tower and possibly a day trip to Giverny, the fabled home of Impressionist master Claude Monet?
For the first time, our adventures will take us to Bella Italia, where we'll spend an entire week exploring the inexhaustible treasures of the sunny peninsula. From ancient Rome and the Vatican, to the Renaissance treasures of Florence, to the fabled hill towns and sun-drenched countryside of Tuscany, to the inimitable charm of the Venetian canals, we predict you'll be reluctant to head home!
Interested? Just e-mail us at admin@worldtothewise.net and request a registration packet or sign up at the right for periodic updates. Space is limited! All you need is a refundable $200 deposit to register for the tour, and the rest can be paid in installments. The tour is open to everyone -- adults, students and parents or grandparents (we do ask that students under 15 be accompanied by an adult).
It has been said that "the fool wanders, but the wise man travels" -- in other words, if you're going to travel, do it with a purpose. Sometimes it takes being lifted out of the confines of familiarity to gain a broader perspective of this world of ours.
We hope you'll join us!

Thoughts on "The Help" Part II

As I mentioned in my last post, my wife was born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi, where the novel The Help is set. Her childhood memories include a quiet, unpretentious black maid named Rose, whose responsibilities were mainly cleaning and ironing -- at least as far as my wife recollects. The rationale of many white families was that they were providing much needed employment in exchange for services that made their lives a little -- or a lot -- more comfortable.


Becky and I spent two months in Zimbabwe in 1985, part of which time was spent on a tobacco farm owned by a white couple. At the time, white farmers were still the dominant force in Zimbabwean agriculture, with entire villages of black Africans working for them. Wanting to identify with the Africans, we elected to sleep on our air mattresses in the huge tobacco shed next to the villagers' huts. After a few nights, however, the rats had eaten holes in all our air mattresses, and the farmer's wife persuaded us to spend the last remaining nights of our stay in the house.


The first morning, we awoke to a tray of tea outside our bedroom door, provided by the household staff. When we were invited to go on an overnight excursion to our hosts' cabin at Lake Kariba (the world's largest artificial lake), the "help" came along to do all the cooking. 


As a middle class white American, I felt ambivalent about the treatment we were receiving. Sure, who doesn't enjoy a little pampering. But what was my vague sense of guilt about? It just didn't feel right.


Since that time, President Mugabe's policies have driven many of the white farmers not only from their land, but from the country. I have to rejoice, on the one hand, that the land is under the primary control of the majority blacks; but the objective truth is that many of those white farmers used agricultural methods that, if brought back today, would almost certainly improve the greatly deteriorated Zimbabwean economy. (The Zimbabwean situation is far more complex than agricultural methods and has more than anything to do with a despot clutching inordinate power.)


What do we do with all this? What is our personal responsibility? The way I see it, I am to live a life that treats all people with the respect and dignity I believe we were all created with. The places I see this happening on a regular basis are unfortunately few and far between.


I will say this in closing: most of us white Americans and Europeans are a long way from understanding what it truly means to be a minority. Since we cannot change the color of our skin, even if we wanted to in order to conduct some kind of experiment (or move to South Africa), the best we can do is examine our own hearts and "see if there be any wicked way" with regard to people of other color.

"The Help"

My wife, son, daughter-in-law and I saw this powerful movie this weekend. I don't claim to be a movie critic, so won't overly pontificate on the merits and flaws of the movie. I will say that there are a number of extraordinary performances, and I won't be surprised to see Viola Davis's name on the list of Oscar nominees for 2012. 


The story itself, based on the best-selling book by Kathryn Stockett, is one I find hard to shake. (I won't recount it here for the sake of those who haven't seen the movie yet.) My wife was born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi, and seeing the movie through her eyes made it that much more poignant. My reaction of anger and shame reveals a particular sensitivity to the subject of race relations in American culture -- but we're mistaken if we think this is a strictly American phenomenon. More on that in my next post.


As we whites look at our parents' generation's treatment of blacks, there is a mixture of emotional responses. My Texan grandfather, a barber, refused to cut the hair of blacks or Mexicans. Not all whites were as openly hostile to African Americans; in my wife's Jackson, having black "help" was accepted as a normal part of southern culture. The attitudes of the white employers varied from blatant prejudice and condescension to a much more subtle form of racism. Many black nannies, as portrayed by Viola Davis, were so close to the children they cared for that they were like family. Though it is true that we tread on dangerous ground when we talk in stereotypical terms about that era (the notion of building a separate bathroom for the help, for example, was completely foreign to my wife), we can clearly talk about cultural trends that shift with each generation.
Not all whites were as hypocritical as the movie makes them out to be. Many were sincere, God-fearing families who believed they were doing the blacks a favor by providing them employment. 


"They were doing the best they knew how," we like to say.


While that may be true, it makes me shudder.


It makes me shudder because I can't help wondering what our children will be talking about when they say the same thing about us. I have often wondered about the collective blind spots in our cultures: why did it take so long for us to realize the evils of slavery? Why have women generally had to wait so long for equal rights? Why has democracy still not taken hold in many nations of the world?


But the most sobering question to me is this: what blind spots in this generation will our descendants identify? Of course we are aware that our current world leaves much to be desired and hoped for. But a blind spot is just that -- what is it that is completely escaping our attention? 

A Baby Is Born

After many hours of sitting in my own classroom, so to speak, learning about merchant accounts and all the elements of the back side of the tapestry, the e-book is finally out of the oven.


If I were seeking help and encouragement about a particular subject I was preparing to study, I wouldn't look for a large volume on how to go about it; I would want something concise -- so that's what I've done here.
Part motivation, part practical how-to's, How to Learn a Foreign Language: 7 Tips for Making the Daunting Doable is designed to be a shot in the arm for those who are either considering undertaking a foreign language, or those who have already begun but could use a little fresh perspective.


That word perspective is a huge word in my life. One of the themes of the e-book is the importance of taking the necessary step of lifting ourselves above our cultural assumptions in order to take a fresh look -- in this case, at the language we're tackling -- but it's a principal that applies in all areas of life. 


Perspective comes only when we are willing to loosen our clutch on what we perceive as real and important.


Check out the book for yourself, or forward the information to someone you know who could use a shot in the arm and a little perspective.

Almost out of the oven...

We're almost there -- we just need to make some tweaks to the website where my new e-book will be available. While I'm learning about online shopping carts and merchant accounts, we're getting great feedback and constructive criticism from my test group. Many have said it has made them want to go out and do something crazy like learn a foreign language.

If so, mission accomplished.

Diving Into Italian

Born on the Four(teen)th of July

Dear loyal or occasional reader,


One year ago today, Becky and I were sitting at a long, food-laden table in the back yard of good friends in a quaint village outside Strasbourg, France. We topped off an already wonderful evening by standing in the midst of a festive crowd in the center of Strasbourg, oohing and ahing like kids at the fireworks above the medieval towers of the old city.


Today in France is what Americans call Bastille Day. The name Bastille is nowhere in the French name for the holiday; they simply call it la Fête nationale, or, even more commonly, le quatorze juillet -- just as we commonly say July 4 instead of Independence Day.


If you've been following me for very long, you know I'm an avowed francophile. What you may not know is that I was born on the 14th of July. It would seem my life was destined to be intertwined with that of our French friends, of whom I have many. This year, I'm celebrating at home with my family and good friends, taking part in local celebrations of Bastille Day hosted by the few but proud francophiles in my city of Nashville.


You haven't heard from me in a while because I've been busy putting the finishing touches on an e-book on how to go about learning a foreign language. I'll send updates soon, but in the meantime, feel free to sign up here if you're specifically interested in foreign languages -- and spread the word!


Finally, you've been reading for some time in this blog my musings on cultural and international issues, my passion and mission being to awaken cultural curiosity among English speakers. From now on, however, I intend to muse on other topics of interest as well; this will likely include more opinions, which you may or not agree with. Maybe it's my age (and we do tend to be more philosophical as we muse on our birthday, dont' we) -- but it's becoming less important to me to avoid stirring the waters a little. My philosophy is that we treat each other with the same respect we hope to be given, and I trust you'll stay on board with me.


In the meantime, Bonne Fête du 14 juillet!