Shite happens

Fresh-cut flowers

A co-worker and I made plans to have lunch Wednesday, so when the noon hour approached yesterday I looked forward to getting some fresh air and strolling down to the farmers market just west of our office.

We followed our noses to Hoda's Middle Eastern booth and ordered garlicky chicken shwarma, then found ourselves a place to sit while the Portland Metro Youth Pipe Band performed a few songs on bagpipes for the lunchtime crowd near the Portland Center for the Performing Arts.

Afterward, I ambled through the labyrinth of booths laden with organic produce and eggs, gourmet cheeses and other good stuff. Bought myself a pound of bing cherries and a bouquet of flowers for Lori, then headed back to the office while my friend Cornelius split off to get a cup of coffee.

Back at my desk, I thought, "What a nice break from the routine." And I settled in to resume my work.

But then...a smell...and not a very good one. Looked down and there it was, a souvenir from the street. Fresh dog doo, filling the crevices of the waffle sole on my left shoe. Yecch.

Grabbed some paper towels and a plastic "spork" from a desk drawer and went to work on it. Unfortunately, no water hose nearby.

Now, I could have been in a sour mood, silently chastising the person who didn't clean up after his pet. But, in the spirit of making lemonade from lemons, I did a quick Facebook status update and took heart from the witty comments from friends far and near:


"It's local, and organic."
"Farm fresh, too."
"Crapola!"
And my favorite: "Shite happens."

Rich man, poor man and a woman of faith

I guess you'd call it the literary equivalent of a blind date. A Facebook friend recommended a book about the unlikely true-life story of a modern-day slave who spends much of his life homeless and an international art dealer who meets him through his volunteer work at a homeless shelter in Fort Worth, Texas. The two men are brought together by the art dealer's wife, who insists that her husband join her in volunteering at a shelter as an expression of their Christian faith.

I hadn't heard about the book, "Same Kind of Different as Me." Nor about the co-authors, Ron Hall and Denver Moore. But my friend Jocelyn recommended it as "an awesome read." Hall grows up poor in east Texas but makes it to college, then parlays a single, big-ticket sale into a lucrative career as an art dealer, with offices in Texas and New York and regular trips to Europe to schmooze with brokers and wealthy clients. Moore grows up as a sharecropper on a former plantation in Louisiana, in the pre-Civil Rights era in a place so far off the grid that the abject racism and poverty leave him uneducated, unskilled and desperate enough to hop a train as a teenager in search of something -- anything -- else. He winds up living on the streets of Fort Worth.

With Hall's wife Debbie as the catalyst, the two men overcome their prejudices toward each other and all that each represents, and develop a friendship that continues today. The book is an easy read, with alternating chapters (typically six pages or less) that are told in each man's voice. As billed, it's an inspirational tale that weaves faith throughout its 244 pages. Ultimately, it's a story about how two strangers build trust and how each achieves his own brand of personal redemption.

As a lapsed Catholic, I admit to reading the book with a feeling of some skepticism and self-doubt. Debbie is the real hero in the story. In fact, without her influence on both men, there would be no story. Hall strikes me as the kind of self-satisfied, out-of-touch Christian I would veer away from, especially when he talks about his accumulation of luxury automobiles, palatial houses, and acquisition of a sprawling ranch as a family getaway.

He mentions prayer, of course, as a real and constant source of guidance. And it's understandable that he would turn to it even more when Debbie develops serious health problems. But as someone who's still something of a non-believer, it seems excessive, occasionally grating and, at times, somewhat of a stretch to interpret events, good and bad, as God's will.

To his credit, Hall owns up to his prejudices toward the homeless. That he is able to confront and largely overcome his attitudes and beliefs is a credit to Moore, who initially comes across as an intimidating, moody, reclusive person but over the course of the book becomes a font of common sense and wisdom. He too finds strength and guidance in the Bible, despite a lifetime of abuse, poverty and racism.

The story of the men's developing trust and friendship really is quite remarkable and meant to make the reader reflect on some obvious questions: What do I think when I see a homeless person? How can I help in ways other than giving money to a shelter? Could I see past my own prejudices to develop a friendship with someone living on the streets?

Despite my criticisms (and I realize they sound snarky), I enjoyed the book. The story is unlikely, for sure, but it's a powerful testament to what can happen when two individuals, different in every possible way, make an honest effort to really lock in and listen to each other, and see past the chasms of race and class. And, as mentioned, it prodded me to reflect on my own stereotypes of both the homeless and born-again Christian communities.

I asked Jocelyn how she came upon the book. "Believe it or not," she said, "I usually walk around Barnes $ Noble and find books based on the feeling I get about them. I know sounds crazy but it's almost like I'm drawn to each of the books I buy. Once I land on a book that attracts me I read the back cover and usually just buy it."

I've done that too and found some real gems, along with a few that have proven to be fool's gold. In this case, I'm glad Jocelyn took the time to find and recommend this book. The lessons of faith will keep me wrestling with my own thoughts and interactions with both sets of people represented by Hall and Moore.

'Goon Squad' lives up to the hype

When I asked my Facebook friends recently to recommend a favorite book, I received a couple dozen suggestions of interesting titles and authors, but only one novel was mentioned by more than one person.

That's how I came upon Jennifer Egan's "A Visit from the Goon Squad." And, wow, am I glad I decided that two endorsements was enough to justify putting it at the top of my list.

Rare is the book, fiction or nonfiction, that lives up to the hype. I can see why this collection of 13 short stories, loosely tied together with a handful of recurring characters and zipping back and forth in time from San Francisco in the 1970s to present-day New York City, won the 2011 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and a host of other awards.

The Los Angeles Times called it "the smartest book you can get your hands on" and I would agree. The writing is razor-sharp, the physical descriptions palpable, the dialogue pitch-perfect, whether it's two teenage girls or two wealthy suburban housewives at a tennis club who are doing the talking.

Jennifer Egan

Bennie, a punk rocker who's become an aging music industry executive, and Sasha, his 35-year-old assistant with a bad habit of stealing, are the two primary characters but they appear in only some of the stories. The other chapters revolve around people who have some connection to Bennie and Sasha and who, like them, find themselves struggling to understand the life changes that have occurred with the passage of time.

One chapter runs about 70 pages in the form of a PowerPoint presentation, set at some unspecified year in the 2020s, and conveys the thoughts of an adolescent sister and brother. Maybe I'm easily dazzled, but I thought that chapter was brilliant for the emotional wallop it packed in such an austere form.

As for the title? "Goon squad" is a metaphor for "time." Each of the adult characters looks forward and back from their present situation and we're able to ponder with them how they got to where they are, and share any regrets or redemption that occur along the way.

Next time someone asks me to recommend a book, this will be the one. Brilliant.


Photo by Pieter M. Van Hattem/Vistalux

Bro Time

"It is a lovely thing to go out with friends from different lifetimes and watch them enjoy each other."

A Facebook friend posted that the other day and I couldn't help but think of it when I hosted a poker game this weekend.  

OK, so it wasn't exactly four friends from different lifetimes but they did evoke memories of different places and experiences.

There was John, a bowling buddy and a youngish dad whose wife, a registered dietitian, briefly subcontracted some of the space in Lori's gym for a solo practice. Andrea has moved on to other work but I'm glad I'm become friends with John, who's among the most outgoing, disarming people I've ever known.

There was Jon, who I met in Salem some 30 years ago when his wife was a veterinarian and Lori was a veterinary assistant (yes, she's done a few things in the world of work). The husbands inevitably got together and we've remained friends despite our now living 45 miles apart from each other. Jon's a baseball fan (gave me a cool Marineros cap) and a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to work and hobbies.

There was Bob, who I also have known 30 or so years  -- actually, it's 31, because his son Chris and our oldest son, Nathan, were born two days apart in the same hospital in Salem. His wife, Deborah,, and Lori met there as new moms and when we bumped into them a few weeks at the same restaurant it seemed like destiny that we'd become a great foursome.

And then there was Tom, whom I just wrote about last month as my Monday morning breakfast partner. We go back to college days, as his girlfriend Elsa was Lori's roommate then. (Gee, there's a Lori connection in all of these friendships...) Tom lives in Portland and we've seen each other get married and become a dad.

It was immensely satisfying to be in the company of these great friends -- and better still to see them get along so well with each other. I got emails from each one of them commenting on that very thing. 

Lori had dinner with friends, then went to the Starlight Parade. Yet she helped me set things up for the evening, and managed to return home early enough (as in midnight) to be able to say hello to everyone. 

This weekend delivered the warmest weather of the year and I spent a big chunk of it inside, working both Saturday and Sunday shifts to make up for taking an extra day off for Memorial Day). So it was a nice break right in the middle to have an evening full of pizza, beer, brownies, guy jokes and great conversation.

As the game crossed over into Sunday morning, we played one last hand that produced one honkin' jackpot -- at least by our meager nickel-dime-quarter stakes -- and it was fitting that Tom won the hand because Sunday was his birthday. 

Until next time...

Photo: GFKPoker

'The Twitter Trap'

Bill Keller is the editor of The New York Times. When he speaks or writes -- even if it's to toss off an impish tweet -- people take notice.

Today in the Times' Sunday magazine (and four days earlier on the web), Keller came out with what I thought was a very sharp, insightful piece on the corrosive effect that Twitter (and other social media) has on our brains ("The Twitter Trap").
 
Just as the pocket calculator diminished our math skills, and GPS devices messed with our sense of direction,  Keller argues, so too is Twitter eroding our attention span.

Sending a single tweet requires thinking in 140-character bursts. Is that really a good thing? I suppose some people can convey wit, outrage ... or whatever ... in such a tight format. I also recognize that Twitter, Facebook and YouTube have been indispensable tools to journalists and ordinary citizens who've been active in the Arab Spring and other pro-democracy movements around the world.

Yet I agree with Keller when he wonders if the new technologies may be eroding our essentially human characteristics -- "our ability to reflect, our pursuit of meaning, genuine empathy, a sense of community connected by something deeper than snark or political affinity."

The most obvious drawback of social media is that they are aggressive distractions. Unlike the virtual fireplace or that nesting pair of red-tailed hawks we have been live-streaming on nytimes.com, Twitter is not just an ambient presence. It demands attention and response. It is the enemy of contemplation. Every time my TweetDeck shoots a new tweet to my desktop, I experience a little dopamine spritz that takes me away from . . . from . . . wait, what was I saying? 

My mistrust of social media is intensified by the ephemeral nature of these communications. They are the epitome of in-one-ear-and-out-the-other, which was my mother’s trope for a failure to connect. 

I went to the comments section following Keller's article and was struck by the number of well thought-out responses, both agreeing and disagreeing with him on the utility and value of Twitter and other social media. Then I went to Google and the first piece of reaction ("NYT editor Bill Keller on 'The Twitter Trap' ") and was slapped in the face by the very kind of snark I've come to detest.

One commenter calls him "a trolling bully." Another asks, "Was this guy in charge of the paywall decision? Print media makes you old and stupid." And someone else writes, "I really don't think Twitter is what made Bill stupid."

I can appreciate the connections ou can make on Facebook, as well as the news tips you can glean from Twitter, but I think our use of these tools comes down to a matter of balance. You can overdo anything -- whether it's watching TV, talking or texting with your smartphone or spending time on your computer. If we're smart enough to recognize Twitter as a time-sucking drain on the brain, we should also be smart enough to step away from it more often than not.


Illustration by James Joyce

Spring cleaning on a mundane Monday

Elbert Hubbard (1856-1915)

Monday is a regular day off from work, so it's often taken up with domestic chores. Empty the recycling bins, take out the trash, put away the laundry. Change the litter box, vacuum, iron some shirts.

As long as I was doing some of these things, it occurred to me, "Why not do some pruning on Facebook?" How did I ever get 450 friends anyway? That's three times the number that social scientists tell us we can really manage effectively.

So...just went in thinned out the ranks of my FB contacts by about 10 percent. I really don't think folks will notice. The definition of a "friend" is just so loose these days. Co-workers, cousins and lifelong buddies are tossed together in the same cybersalad acquaintances, distant relatives and one-time contacts. Politicians, too.

I think this is all for the better. With Twitter and work and personal email accounts to manage as well, there's no shortage of ways for people to stay in touch. And in most cases, such contact will be a lot more relevant than reading about someone's personal quirks on Facebook.

A parting thought on friendship, courtesy of the American philosopher and writer Elbert Hubbard:

"Your friend is the man who knows all about you, and still likes you."

Photograph: en.wikipedia.org

Share the goodness

Finally decided to get up to speed and added a new widget to the blog.

Beneath each post, you'll now see five little icons which are meant to encourage sharing of any material that you like on Rough and Rede.

With a click of your mouse, you can email a post or share it on Twitter or Facebook or Google Buzz.

Hope that doesn't strike readers as self-centered. I don't tend to think of myself as an egomaniac.

Rather, these are the tools of the trade for sharing stuff in the blogosphere. Might as well make it easy for folks.

Thanks in advance for anything that gets put out there with these tools.

Online and engaged

Mark Zuckerberg

Hollywood has brought us no shortage of characters who come off as social misfits -- unkempt hair, rumpled clothes, nerdy glasses and the glow of a computer screen lighting up their face as they sit typing away in the basement of their parents' house.

Well, it's time to put that a cliché to rest.

New research from Pew contradicts the tired fallacy that the internet fosters social isolation, the Knight Digital Media Center reports. Earlier this month, the Pew Internet and American Life Project published The Social Side of the Internet — a report which indicates that the internet has become a key part of how civic, social, advocacy, and religious groups and organizations function and flourish today…

Among the study’s key findings, the Knight center reports:

• 80% of US internet users participate in groups (including volunteering, fundraising, civic engagement, campaigning, events, and more) — compared to just 56% of non-internet users.
• Social media users are especially likely to be active in groups. 82% of US social network users and 85% of Twitter users report participating in groups. 

Movie stereotypes aside -- the latest involving Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg in "The Social Network" -- these findings don't surprise me and, in fact, are quite comforting.

As I think about my peers who serve with me on various boards and councils, it's clear that we rely on the internet to keep each other informed and, more importantly, to evangelize about our groups. Those of you reading probably recall an e-mailed invitation or two to attend a particular event or support a certain activity -- along with the opportunity to  make a financial pledge. (For that, I thank you.)

But as I think about friends and family members who are not regular internet users, I'm struck by the other side of the coin, the realization that they're not as engaged in their community, or in national or world news, to the extent of others. That's both sad and sobering.

The internet can be a time-sucker, for sure. But it's also helped bring people and causes together  for the common good and I'm happy to see that trend validated in the Pew report.

Photograph: www.impactlab.net

Possibly the nicest compliment I've ever received

Left to my own devices, I'd let people find this on Facebook. But now that I've reconnected with Patty Chang Anker, I'm advised by a certain public relations professional that I shouldn't be shy about sharing her blog post "How to Teach, How to Be"

So here it is...

My kind of teacher: George Rede. Who did you look up to way back when? Are you FB friends now? http://upside-down-patty.blogspot.com/2011/01/how-to-teach-how-to-be.html

12-27 and 58

A White Russian in Chicago / 2008

"How does it feel to be 58?" my mom asked.
"Pretty weird," I answered.

58. Fifty-eight. Cincuenta y ocho. No matter how I write it or say it in my head, it's weird to look at it and hear it. But with another birthday in the bank, it's time to get used to it: 59 is only 364 days away.

Actually, I think I'll remember this birthday more than most others. Why? Two things, I suppose. One that brought me face-to-face with a reminder of our mortality. And, two, a celebration here at home that underscored the centrality of family in my life.

The first moment came when I visited a friend in the hospital, a fellow member of the Broken Taco Shells bowling team who's three years younger than me. Late last week, he was in an exercise class when he started to feel some tightness in his chest. He left class to gather himself and after a short rest intended to drive about a mile back to his home. Instead, he trusted his instincts and drove himself to a hospital. Turned out he had 85 percent blockage in his arteries and wound up undergoing a quadruple bypass surgery. He's an exercise buff and eats well, for the most part, so he's recovering quickly and is scheduled to go home today. His positive attitude was great to see and it was nice to spend time with him. But, still, it was a shock to hear of his ordeal and a reminder to never take my good health for granted. Here's to a quick and complete recovery!

The second moment came during the evening, when I found myself once again sitting down to a delicious meal prepared by my wife and two of our kids and consuming it in the warmth of the glow from our faux fireplace. It felt like a cocoon, being there with Lori, Nathan, Simone and their partners Sara and Kyndall, enjoying wine, food, presents and phone calls from my parents and sisters. (Would have been nice to have Jordan and Jamie, too, but they couldn't break away from Olympia.) Throw in six dozen birthday wishes on Facebook from friends and relatives and you can see why I might have felt overwhelmed by people's kindness.

As I set off to go to work this morning, I realize yet again how blessed I am to live this life.

Just Signed Up For Twitter

For this blogging "comeback," like the once-decent centerfielder who returns years after leaving the game only to be inserted as a DH while he gets back into "playing shape," I've taken to Twitter.

In an effort to get back my blogging groove, I figure 140 characters is the perfect blogging BP.

So, if you're bored senseless and want to waste even more time on the company's Internet dime, follow the madness @MZoneBlog. Plus, this way you don't have to keep coming back to the site only to find the same stale shit from three weeks ago. Now, if something's new, I'll Tweet that it's up. Less wasting time on the MZone so you can try to destroy your career on the 90 other sites you visit each day.

Oh, and I'm also on Facebook (F.H. Yost). Really hoping to score again with my 8th grade girlfriend who friended me. Sure, she's married, divorced and remarried again with four kids, but the way she's always sending out those Farmville updates makes me think she wastes even more time online than I do. Yep -- that's hot!

A good day in cyberspace

A fellow blogger once told me:

Blogging can feel like such a private activity, words I'm shouting to no one in particular, and it's encouraging to know there are real and actual readers.

I agree completely. So it was gratifying yesterday to see signs that Rough and Rede is being read and appreciated by a few more people than is evident on a daily basis. (Sorry if this sounds self-indulgent, but I think any journalist is curious to know who's reading his or her work and how they're reacting to it.)

Anyway, Obama's Blackberry drew a first-time commenter. The Joni Mitchell video posted under Quick Takes prompted a lovely reminiscence about the part Joni played in bringing a couple together 30 years ago. I picked up a new follower, bringing me to 20. (Yay!)

And...three fellow journalists, ranging from Portland and Vancouver to Washington, D.C., let me know through regular e-mail or Facebook messages that they read the blog regularly. (Yay, again!)

Part of me feels silly sharing this. Does it do anything besides draw attention to a writer's insecurities? I'd like to think so. The positive feedback gives me incentive to keep at this, knowing that somehow, someway people are getting something out of this.

Thanks, readers.

Tommy? Is that you?

The e-mail arrived 10 days ago with a mysterious subject line: an old, old friend?

you may not remember me....esp. if you aren't the george rede from decoto (union city), calif.

but if you are, we were good (best?) friends in kindergarten/1st at decoto elementary....

i lived on 7th street....think you lived on 5th/6th....who knows now....

anyway, am enjoying your blog and just wanted to say hey....

And just like that, I was transported back to a time when Tommy Nunez and I were indeed best friends. A time when I was 6 or 7 years old, missing a tooth or two and loving things like playground kickball, the corner grocery store where I bought candy, the freedom to ride my bike or walk anywhere in our neighborhood of working-class Chicano families. (It would be another three years before my first kiss -- a quick peck on the cheek of the 4th-grade bronze goddess Stella Gonzales).

Tommy and I parted ways when one of us moved away from Union City. I was in 5th grade when we moved to Fremont (I honestly can't remember if his family moved before or after mine) but I do remember feeling crushed at the loss of my best friend. In any case, we never saw each other again, though I do remember a time as a prep sports writer for my hometown newspaper when I noticed a familiar name on the soccer team at a rival high school -- and, yes, it was Tommy. I ran cross country and track, so we never competed in the same sport.

After all these years, how did he track me down?

Simple, he wrote: "the all-powerful google....was feeling nostalgic the other day, when i do, i run
old friends thru google, if i can remember their names at this point....one of the entries was for 'rough and rede', and there is a picture, and the picture kinda looked like you...so there ya go. "

These days, Reunion.com, MyLife.com and Facebook are among the many social networking sites that make it easy to get in touch with long-lost friends, classmates -- even relatives. I've never been attracted to either of the first two; unlike my social butterfly wife, who still gets together with lifelong friends from San Francisco, I've maintained only two strong friendships from high school.

So it was gratifying to hear from Tommy and appreciate the amazing reach of Google. Like anything else, the combination of a few keystrokes and mouse clicks can transport you anywhere in the virtual world, from the workplace to the blogosphere, from familiar to the never-been-there, from the present to your past. (Decoto Elementary, by the way, is now the home of New Haven Adult School and Union City itself is celebrating its 50th anniversary this year.)

Even more gratifying? To hear that Tommy -- he's Tom now -- is doing well, living in the Bay Area and working from home for a high-tech company. He and his Significant Other have three kids, one married, and are expecting their first grandchild in October.

Turns out his S.O. has relatives in Oregon, and they've been up here a few times. Needless to say, I hope their next trip up here -- or our next trip down there -- allows us to get together. Trading childhood memories and catching up on everything since then would be so cool.

Until then: "take care, dude."

Reconsidering Facebook

In late March, I returned from vacation to a very well done article in the Business section of The New York Times: "Is Facebook Growing Up Too Fast?"

The piece noted Facebook's phenomenal growth from a startup five years ago. Last August, the social networking site registered its 100 millionth user. Barely seven months later, it expected to crack the 200 million user barrier. Amazing, no matter what you think of Facebook -- "an essential personal and business networking tool" (NY Times article) or soulsucking, timewasting diversion.

At the time, I was aware of a trend that was slowly becoming more apparent to me -- namely, that as much I enjoyed being on Facebook, especially initially, I was growing more comfortable with my own blog. The trend -- and my comfort level -- has only grown stronger in the past month.

After two full months of blogging, I've been as disciplined as I'd hoped to be, with a new post nearly every single day. I've ranged far and wide on my topics, even surprising myself sometimes from time to time. Along the way, I've also picked up some encouraging feedback, mostly as a result of Lori passing on a comment from a mutual friend but also as a result of a few comments that readers have posted on this or that entry.

The more I've done this, the more I realize I've created an online diary that's a pretty accurate reflection of my interests and whims, even if it's not a guts-out, reveal-all journal that crosses the line into self-absorbed. At least, I hope I haven't crossed that line. In the process, I think a fuller picture emerges than what someone would get from reading my blurbs on Facebook.

On Facebook, everyone (or nearly everyone, it seems) is witty and some folks are obsessed with their own navel, figuratively speaking. On Rough and Rede...well, I suppose it's up to everyone who visits the site to determine whether I'm doing that, too. What I like, though, is that this blog gives me more space to tease out my thoughts and feel like I'm making more of a personal connection with friends, family and -- hello, out there? -- any strangers who might come across it.

Somehow, it feels more intimate, even if still a predominately one-way conversation. I've sharply reduced the amount of time and effort I put into Facebook. Don't get me wrong, it's great in short bursts. But I think I've found a comfort zone here and hope to continue sharing my thoughts and experiences, for what they're worth. Over time, maybe I'll learn more about myself too.

If you like what you see, please feel free to pass along the URL: http://roughandrede.blogpost.com/

As of today, 11 followers. Yay!