A Pall Hangs Over the City

Two, in fact. Last week, a fire began burning in a marsh to the east of New Orleans. Usually such fires are allowed to burn themselves out, since they don't pose a threat of spreading to homes and businesses, and it's hard to get into the marsh to fight the fire. As days passed, the smoke became a serious hazard to those with allergies and asthma. Yesterday evening, the smoke began clouding the air over Baton Rouge, roughly 80 miles from the marsh as the crow flies. An acrid smell hung in the air as John and I left the house to go to dinner.


This morning, helicopters are battling the fire.


Another pall has been hanging over Baton Rouge for the past several weeks, this one due to a bar fight resulting in serious legal charges being filed. Two weeks ago several LSU football players, drinking in a local bar after curfew, became involved in a bar fight. Several people were injured, two of them with fractured bones. Two LSU players, one the starting quarterback, have been charged with second degree battery. That much everyone agrees on. What happened next is the subject of dispute and conjecture.


One of the victims insists that the team quarterback, JJ, is the person who kicked him in the face while he was down on the ground, causing a fractured maxilla and other injuries. His story is confirmed by the victim's girlfriend. There is a blurry video of the fight in the parking lot taken with a cell phone which shows a tall man in black kicking a figure on the ground. There is also recently released security video taken inside the bar before the fight started showing JJ wearing a light colored shirt. However, there is a "second kicker", in a light shirt, in the video but he seems to be wearing shorts and possibly is of a different race. With the poor lighting and poor video quality, it's hard to tell.


Another complication is that the victim's ex-girlfriend obtained a restraining order against him a few days after the fight, claiming that he is harassing her and her friends. The bar video does show the victim arguing and getting physical with a young woman in the bar. Two bar employees have told the press that the victim took a punch at someone in the bar before the fight started outside. The victim's account of himself has been that he intervened in a fight that was already occurring to help someone in trouble.


The two players who have been charged with battery are out on bond but have been suspended from the team. Sides are being taken, and on the local sports message board, Tiger Rant, have been labelled Team Sweep and Team BRPD Sweep. One side believes that by being out in a bar after curfew, the players were asking for trouble. One side believes the Baton Rouge Police Department are behaving incompetently. As often happens in such cases, the murky gray area between the two sides is rapidly being ignored.


Let me be clear: when I say, "gray area", I am not proposing that there is any moral gray area regarding kicking someone who is down on the ground. He may have been spoiling for a fight, he may have mistreated his ex-girlfriend, he may have bit off more than he could chew, but he did not deserve to be kicked in the face while he was helpless.


No, I am referring to the murky gray area that is human memory and eye witness testimony, and the murkier gray area of how do you treat people who have been accused but not yet tried for crimes. The rule "presumed innocent until proven guilty" is a rule of courtroom law that does not have to apply to the university and the football team. There isn't any good answer that I can see to the question of whether the two players should have been suspended. People of good sense and good faith can be found on either side of the issue. If nothing else, they can be suspended for breaking curfew, but if that were all that had happened, it is likely they wouldn't have been.


Then there is that notoriously tricky form of evidence, eye witness testimony. The victim is sure that JJ is the one who kicked him, but was he really in a position to tell? He was down on the ground with someone kicking at him, it may have been hard to tell just who. He may be convinced that the most identifiable person in the group was the one that kicked him, even though he couldn't really know. His girlfriend's memory of events may be completely independent of his, or it may not. It may have been shaped by hearing him say, "Remember how JJ kicked me next?" or some such.


The memory of the accused may be equally fuzzy. JJ insists that he didn't kick anybody. That may be true. That may be a conscious lie. That may also be his memory of the truth. It's not impossible that alcohol and adrenalin interfered with his memory of events, and that what he remembers is what he presumed he would or would not have done in such circumstances or what he wanted to think he did in such circumstances.


It is sad to think that a guilty person may go free because reasonable doubt of his guilt can be raised or that an innocent person may go free but with an acrid cloud over his head because he can never be completely exonerated. That's the reality of our justice system. We more often than not have to deal with cases that are not open and shut. Often we deal with them by pretending that in fact they are open and shut, and that the people who can't see it just have smoke in their eyes.


Update, September 2: A tropical storm-in-the-making is now headed toward us. It could put the fire out, along with our power.

Watching Hoarders

Like many TV viewers, I am fascinated by programs that show people coping with clutter and disorganization. I loved Mission: Organization and Clean Sweep, and tried to apply some of their organizing principals in my own cluttered life, with some success. Lately it seems that shows that depict the merely messy have given way to shows that depict the extreme end of the spectrum of disorganization: Hoarders, on A&E, and Hoarding: Buried Alive on TLC. The formats for both shows are similar, with the viewer first being given a look at the crammed-full homes of the featured hoarders, a session with a psychologist (on TLC, it's a family therapy session), the attempts to clean up the hoard with the help of professional organizers, a clean-up team, and psychologists, and a look at the finished product. 


While I am not the neatest and most organized person, I am certainly not a hoarder. You can walk on my floors, and not just on narrow, pre-established paths. There may not be a place for everything and everything in its place, but for the most part, there is a distinction made between storage areas (shelves, cupboards, drawers, desk tops) and non-storage areas (floors, tables, the stove top), although hubby is less finicky about this distinction than I am. I have to be careful to put the ironing board up as soon as I'm done with it if I don't want to find the mail there. Right now, there is a stack of boxes in the den holding books that hubby brought home from his office when he retired, but I have a plan for those in the form of a low bookcase/window seat made with stock cabinets from the hardware store. I just haven't sprung it on - I mean, discussed it with him yet.


When I watch the behavior of the hoarders on these shows, though, I can see our kinship. They all seem to have trouble making the connection between parts and whole. Many of these people are in desperate circumstances, facing loss of children, loss of homes, possibly even jail time if they don't clean up their surroundings. At the very least, they can't live comfortably or entertain family and friends. When we first meet them, most of them are eager for change and grateful for help.


All that changes when it is actually time to deal with the mess. "I'm keeping that" is the response to almost every item. Often the hoarder insists on going through every bag of trash  before it goes on the truck, and if by chance a useful item gets in there by mistake, cleaning will grind to a halt. The forest may be dark, dank, cheerless and filled with scary things, but each tree, shrub, and snake, live, dead, or poisonous, is precious. 


And I can relate to that. When I try to go through my closets, drawers, desk organizers, mail and shelves, I can see at a glance that there is clutter and I realize I don't know what most of that stuff is and wouldn't know where to put my hands on any particular item if I needed it. Once I start going through items one by one, however, I can think of a reason to hang onto most of them. That's a perfectly good sample size tube of toothpaste. True, we use regular size tubes of toothpaste that we buy at the grocery, and I get two of the sample size every six months at the dentist's office so even with all the travel hubby and I do, I'm not likely to use them all up, ever, but it's a perfectly good sample size tube of toothpaste! And yes, that T-shirt is showing signs of fraying at the neck and armholes, but what if I decide to paint something? I can't wear my good clothes for painting (gardening, cleaning). The last time I painted anything was 5 years ago, because hubby prefers to do it himself,  but you never know. And true, I never use aprons, but that apron was a gift. Maybe I should use aprons, so I don't get grease on my clothes. I'm going to use aprons from now on. (Okay, stranger things have happened. The Saints won a Superbowl, after all.)


The effect that watching hoarding programs on my life has been to interrupt all that self-talk with common sense. Michelangelo himself wouldn't have been able to use that many old T-shirts in his entire career. I'm not going to wear the aprons because I never remember I have aprons, except when the kitchen drawer gets stuck because an apron is jammed in it. Anything that's in that catalogue is also shown on the website online. And instead of worrying that I will forget to pay the insurance bill that's due next month if I don't leave it sitting in plain sight, maybe I should pay it now. The money for it is already in the savings account anyway.


So bit by bit and fraying T-shirt by fraying T-shirt, I'm getting a grip on the clutter. I have a box ready to go to the local thrift store right now.


I wonder if they take toothpaste samples?

Modesty Forbids

I found the link to A Letter To Girls I Know (on Modesty) in a thread called Dear God, not another warning about modesty on the No Longer Qivering Forums. From the outset, this letter is puzzling. First of all, the title says "to girls I know". If the letter writer knows the "girls" to whom he has written, presumably he knows their addresses and can send them mail directly, but the letter is posted on a blog. This blog is not even the author's blog, but that of someone called "annawood". Perhaps annawood was one of the original recipients of the letter and was so impressed she asked to be allowed to post it. The letter says "girls", though, and annawood also blogs about her home and children, so it is very likely she's a woman, not a girl. Perhaps it was sent to a girl she knows and so came to her attention.  Some backstory would have been helpful.


The author, whom I can't call by name because "the author's name [was] removed at his request" apparently knows a lot of girls, too, because he starts out by saying 

There are two kinds of men: Godly men, and worldly men. What kind of man do you want? I’m betting most of you said “a Godly man.”

So how many "girls" does he know well enough to write letters to advising them about their clothing choices?  A dozen? If he knows them that well, why is he writing them letters at all? Why hasn't the subject come up in conversation? My impression is that the letter was not written to girls he knows at all, but, as with most open letters, it was written to women he barely knows or knows of, and who wouldn't solicit his advice on clothing anyway.  


The thesis of his letter is that to attract a Godly man, "girls" should dress modestly. No wait, they should avoid dressing immodestly. The author never actually gives examples of what counts as modest dress, but he dwells a lot on what counts as immodest dress:

A worldly man doesn’t control himself, rather, he looks at anything that attracts his attention or gets him excited. A worldly guy has no problem when girls wear clothes that show off skin, like boxers, high or low-cut shirts, low-rise jeans, and “cute” little swim-suits. He’s a fan of tight-fitting shirts and pants that show off your form, he thinks they’re fine! Worldly guy watches a lot of TV and R-rated movies, isn’t really offended by sexual content or nudity and secretly dabbles in pornography. He’s a “Christian” and makes up a significant portion of your church and youth group. He’s a really nice guy and sees you mainly for your body. If you were to marry worldly guy, he’d bring lots of baggage into the relationship, have intimacy problems, entertain thoughts of other women, and possibly cheat on you.

You know what I see when I read this paragraph? I see this going through our letter writer's mind:

A worldly man doesn’t control himself, rather, he looks at anything that attracts his attention or gets him excited. A worldly guy has no problem when girls wear clothes that show off skin, like boxers, high or low-cut shirts, low-rise jeans, and “cute” little swim-suits. He’s a fan of tight-fitting shirts and pants that show off your form, he thinks they’re fine! Worldly guy watches a lot of TV and R-rated movies, isn’t really offended by sexual content or nudity and secretly dabbles in pornography. He’s a “Christian” and makes up a significant portion of your church and youth group. He’s a really nice guy and sees you mainly for your body. If you were to marry worldly guy, he’d bring lots of baggage into the relationship, have intimacy problems, entertain thoughts of other women, and possibly cheat on you. 

Our author claims that, "When immodestly-dressed girls, magazine covers, or risqué advertisements come into view, Godly guy quickly 'bounces his eyes' away from the image", but even with all that eyeball bouncing, he has an amazing grasp of what immodest outfits a "girl" is likely to be wearing.


So what does he advise a woman, oh, pardon me, "girl" wear to appear modest?

Of course, I understand the desire to look stylish, attractive, and “cute.” It’s important to fit in and get attention. Trust me, it can be done modestly! 

By wearing what exactly? (Sound of crickets chirping) Oh, no, wait, he does suggest one possible outfit.

And you can forget about any guys missing out on how attractive you are because you don’t wear revealing clothing. You could wear a circus tent and we would still know; it’s a gift we have.

I'm not even sure where I'd buy a circus tent in my size, but then, I haven't been a girl since the mid-1960's, so maybe it doesn't matter.


I have to admit, I agree with the author's thesis that what you wear determines what kind of man you attract. The day I read this, I looked at what my husband was wearing and what I was wearing. We both had on jeans and T-shirts. Case closed.

The Legend

I woke up this morning to the news that Tennessee women's basketball coach Pat Summitt has been diagnosed with early onset dementia. The news actually broke yesterday, but I was too busy trying to track down relatives on the East Coast to make sure they were okay after the earthquake (they were) to have noticed. Of all the things I was expecting to happen this week, those two were not on the list.  Of all the things I was expecting to happen in the next decade, those two were not on the list.


For the last dozen years or so, Tennessee and LSU have been competing for dominance in SEC women's basketball, with Tennessee having the edge. After Pokey Chatman left as LSU's coach and Van Chancellor took over, LSU's teams struggled to compete. Now LSU has a new coach, Nikki Caldwell, who played and coached as one of Summitt's assistants at Tennessee. I don't think I'm the only LSU Lady Tiger fan hoping that Tennessee doesn't come looking for Nikki Caldwell as Pat Summit's replacement. Summitt has announced her intention to keep coaching, although she acknowledged that she will have to lean heavily on her assistants, but who's to say what the course of her illness will be. I wish her well.  


Pat Summitt has the most wins in the NCAA of any basketball coach. Not just any women's basketball coach, any NCAA basketball coach. Now, due to a cruel accident of neurology, she is likely to end her life not even remembering her achievements. It is up to her fans and players and those of us who, while not exactly fans, were certainly aware of her gifts to remember for her. 

Bullseye

After lunch we had one of those out and about errand running sessions where each task seems to suggest the next. One such task was buying new water bowls for the cats, one for inside and one for outside. As we left Pet Smart, I recalled that I needed razor blades, which we could buy at Target, just two parking lots away. 


I found the razor blades, in the eight pack size, but could not get the box off the rack. The blades were packed in a cardboard box that has a tab with a hole the size of a standard hole punch in it. The hole slips over a metal rod, and you used to be able to pull a box off the rod. This particular rod, however, formed  a closed loop with the addition of a plastic cap connecting the lower and upper rods. A passing shopper called my attention to a sign that said that some items were in locked displays and that I would need a sales team member to assist me. 

Imagine a knitting needle running through the hole. Now imagine the knitting needle bent into a narrow "U" with plastic connecting the two legs.

I used the handy red phone to call for help. A team member, looking suspiciously like a stock clerk, showed up, listened to my problem, and explained that he would have to call someone else. That person arrived, and told me he would have to get the one remaining key, which was all the way across the store.


As I waited for him, I found myself wishing that I had followed my first impulse, which was to rip the box off the rack and put it in the cart with my other items. It wouldn't have been too hard to tear from the edge of the tab to the hole.

It wasn't too hard to rip the box like so, which would have made it fall off the rod.

When the team member (not my term, that's what Target calls them) showed up with the key, he apologized for the delay and explained that since that one style of key unlocks all of the merchandise security features, like tags on clothing, some team members have been stealing the keys and using them to steal merchandise from the stores.


Okay, let's recap. In order to keep customers from stealing $20 grooming supplies, Target has installed display racks which require a key to get the items. The key in question also unlocks security devices on even more expensive items, making the keys themselves subject to theft. In the meantime, frail 64 year old ladies like me can defeat their security system pretty easily, when it comes to razor blades. Remind me again, when politicians talk about running government like a business, why do they say it like it's a good thing?


So now I am faced with what passes for a moral dilemma around my house. In the future when buying razor blades at Target, do I wait five minutes for someone to show up with the key, or can I just tear the box off the rack and pay for it at the counter with the rest of my items?

Book It

Last week I got an email from an editor at a small publishing house asking to use some photographs of mine in a book. In exchange I get a credit and a free copy of the book. It's not like people are clamoring to pay me for my photographs, so I agreed and sent him a few suitable shots.  Getting credit and a copy of the medium in which my pictures are used is more than I got the last time someone used my photographs, which was when my then employer used some pictures I had taken of  our young clients in a video for a fundraiser.*

I had a strange reaction when I received the email. I was sure I had already received an email about the project and replied to it. When I searched for the previous email, I couldn't find it, nor could I find a reply that I sent, a message on Flickr, or even a comment on the relevant photographs on Flickr. I have developed either psychic powers or a badly distorted sense of time.

I did look up the publishing house in question to make sure that it existed, and that they weren't some kind of vanity press. They seem legitimate. They largely publish niche books about "wine, naval history, craft, cookery and textile art". If I ever get the urge to write a cookbook about foods that can be prepared easily in a ship's galley, with recommendations for wine pairings, illustrated with photographs of quilted potholders and embroidered dish towels, I have a contact.


*The photos on the left and in the center under the title "Mask" and the two that show from the 24 to the 26 second mark are mine.

Making Friends

Things seem to be settling down between Truffle the Demon Spawn and Licorice, Basement Cat's Minion. While it might be too much of a stretch to say they are making friends, they can sit in the same room and ignore each other for an hour or more at a time. Then one or the other will make a wrong move, resulting in yowls, a chase, and Truffle either going outside or to the bedrooms. There is a door that closes off the hall leading to our bedrooms and baths, and that end of the house is now Truffle's at night or during the day if he needs a nap or just a break from Licorice.


Truffle has had five years to adjust himself to our schedule, so while he does take a long nap during the day and does some roaming at night, he is not as nocturnal as Licorice, who sleeps most of the day and plays in the living room at night. We have tried letting Licorice outside, and he went out eagerly the first time, at which point he realized that hot and steamy does not compare with air-conditioned and filled with cushions. So at least until fall, he is an indoor cat. Truffle is an indoor, outdoor, indoor, outdoor, indoor, outdoor cat. Whenever one of us goes in or out the door during the day, Truffle goes through it, too, frequently in the opposite direction. He's usually in by 10 PM.


Licorice still has an unsettled stomach and interesting grooming habits. Our vet is testing for parasites but hasn't found anything yet. She thinks the stress of living with a large group of cats could also have been the cause. I'm warming up to him. He likes being petted and is friendly to humans, just not to his feline housemate. I keep reminding Licorice that Truffle was here first, like that would mean anything to him.


I hope in a few more weeks I can give both of them the run of the house, at least during the daytime, without having to break up fights. I'm encouraged by how things are going so far.