A Second Thought About Harold and Maude

Perhaps I am not giving Harold and Maude enough credit.  I suppose my crush on Vivian Pickles might be getting in the way.  Because there is, in fact, a conclusion…a recognizable denouement…in this story.

First off, Maude isn’t as contradictory to her nature as I might claim.  It isn’t until the end of the film when she attempts suicide that we understand Maude’s real relationship to death.  Maude, not Harold, has the death wish and acts on it.  Harold fantasizes as a means of escape.  Death really isn’t in the cards.  He is more like you and me, more like most people.  And when Maude is in the hospital recovering, he sees things for what they are.

In the end, Harold runs the Jaguar his mother gave him — a car he had converted into a sort of sports car hearse — off a cliff.  The car, a gift in his mother’s ongoing attempts to set Harold on a more traditional path, became yet another sign of his rebellion and so when he dumps it off the cliff we can presume he’s done with that rebellion.

Harold finishes the film strumming a banjo and skipping a dance on an open hilltop along the ocean.  We might presume that he has awakened from his dour pessimism and feels genuinely carefree.  So Maude isn’t such a bad foil after all.  By breaking with the life affirming quality of her character, she awakens Harold.

There…there is a quick and dirty reading to close the film.  I’m finished with Harold and Maude for a while.

Related articles

• Treading Lightly Still (alittletourinyellow.wordpress.com)

What I Am Learning From Harold and Maude

Cover of Harold and Maude

Answering the Question:  What am I learning from Harold and Maude?

In an earlier post I mention the many times I have watched Harold and Maude; I comment that I think I am learning something while watching the movie but cannot say exactly what that is.  As promised — to you and to myself — I watched Harold and Maude once again, and I believe I have figured out what I am learning when I watch Harold and Maude.  What is that?  Harold’s mother is a saint.

Not only is she a saint, but she’s an angel.   Not to disappoint my one and former frequent reader, U No Hu, who I am certain as noticed a lack of lust in my posts, I have to say…Vivian Pickles does it for me.  She’s fantastic fun and hot as a fresh biscuit.  In fact I think she is the true, yet understated, star of the film.

Here’s what’s going on…

With each viewing of Harold and Maude, I realize how utterly tiresome living with Harold must be.  His death-obsessed antics are darkly amusing first time around, but with each subsequent viewing the scenes labor and at times even annoy.  Harold’s petulance is lost in the novelty of the film on first viewing, but once you know what’s going on, it glares.  You you will want to grab the kid by his furry lapels and send him off to the military academy, tout suite!

But Harold’s mother — Mrs. Chasen played so nicely by Vivian Pickles — plows right past Harold in a delightfully unhampered and eccentric manner that remains strong and fresh despite the silly repetitiveness of it all.  That saintliness is the quality I admire.

Harold Gets a Present

Most people think Harold and Maude is about a troubled rich young man (Bud Cort) struggling to find meaning in his life when he meets crazy old Maude, a much older life-affirming woman (Ruth Gordon), who teaches Harold how to live freely in a conventional world.

Hal Ashby, the films director, creates an interesting character and caricature in Maude, but she becomes a predictable foil to Harold.  It might be contradictory to say so, but she’s almost a compatible foil to Harold.

Maude’s life isn’t too hard to reconstruct in the film even if it lacks details.  She comes from a background of exotic experience and apparent privilege, but lives modestly and with careless regard for social conventions.  She is creative and lively.  And in one scene we quickly catch a glimpse of a tattoo indicating that her past includes a darker history, one that involved German concentration camps.  Maude’s disrespect for uniformed authority might be understandable.

Harold Showing His Appreciation

Harold, on the other hand, is 60 years younger than Maude and appears to have had all the opportunity he needs to have lived a lifetime of experience, but turns away from that opportunity in favor for unclear reasons and plays out death-wish fantasies in a state of perpetual pout.  In at leastone scene, Harold’s mother tells stories of Harold’s privileged experiences while Harold stares dumbly at a plate of beets.

But Harold does shine and eventually comes to life.  Bud Cort is great fun to watch.  However while the film’s direction appears to be quite clear, any satisfying denouement has gone lacking.  I’m convinced things haven’t changed all that much for Harold as he goes skipping up the coastal hills of California at the film’s end.

So while Maude has in fact lived close to real death and faced death itself — indeed as she ages faces the inevitable death and makes an effort to expedite things – she is otherwise full of life.  Harold on the other hand plays out death as a means of escape from a life he fails to live, even with all of his advantages…until he meets Maude, that is.  It’s just a damn shame that she’s older than mom.

Maude and Harold

So that’s a quick and sloppy assessment of Harold and Maude, but it doesn’t need to be much more than that because if you watch the film several times you might see it as I do.  This is a film about Harold’s mother, Mrs. Chasen, the only true and genuine character in the film.  A woman who refuses to let her spoiled and misguided son ruin her exceptional derring do eyes-forward approach to life.  Watching the film over and over again you get a sense of what a real Mrs. Chasen would have felt experiencing Harold’s annoying attention-seeking stunts.  It gets old.

Yes, the film is a funny cult classic and wonderful fun to watch.  Bud Cort is outstanding and Ruth Gordon, well…pretty good in a cliched sort of way, but both get annoying once you’ve seen the film four or five times or more.

Vivian Pickles on the other hand…never grows old.  She holds this film together.  As a comedian, she’s on the spot.  (She isn’t all that bad in Sunday Bloody Sunday, either.  Now that is a film for Michele Bachmann and her husband!  We don’t get enough of Vivian Pickles in that film though, not as I recall.  A true bummer.  It is on my “to watch again” list nonetheless.)  Harold’s mother starts the Harold and Maude sharp, finishes sharp.  If you’re like me, you want to see more of Mrs. Chasen.

You’ll also want to hear a little less Cat Stevens.

In short, Harold and Maude deserves all the praise it gets for its quirky dark humor.  It is a fun and unique film.  But if you’re looking for a lesson in the film, the most obvious one is a bit predictable and cliched.  If you watch the film repeadetly, however, you begin to experience Mrs. Chasen’s hell and understand that cute and quirky is a matter of perspective.

Now off to watch Sunday Bloody Sunday with its homo erotic sexuality and pot-smoking kids.  Sounds good, huh?  Well, it also has Vivian Pickles!

He Knows...

Related articles

• Treading Lightly Still (alittletourinyellow.wordpress.com)
• My 100 Best Loved From 1964 – 1976 (le0pard13.wordpress.com)

Treading Lightly Still

Lake Harriet, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Ah, one sentence written and still no politics in this post.

It feels good, actually.It feels like this might be the specific week that marks the transition from late summer to early fall.  Outside the air is still warm, but it feels cool.  If you live in a place where seasons change, this will make sense to you.  It explains why here in Minnesota we are running around in shorts when it is 5o degrees in April and wearing a sweater when it is 50 degrees in September.

But outside now — judging by the count of cricket chirps – I would say it is a comfortable 60 degrees or so just shortly after sunset.  That is a little too warm for the light jacket I wore on my walk.  I am still waiting for those nights when the setting sun means the air will be crisp and frosty.  There is plenty to look forward to.

I took my typical walk down along Lake Harriet, past the band shell, and then into the woods at the Roberts Bird Sanctuary.  The bird sanctuary borders Lakewood Cemetery, a perfect touch in the fall season.  As the days shorten this walk becomes much more exciting; dusk is an especially interesting time to be in the woods.

Tonight was especially still and quiet.  More than once I thought I heard something moving in the woods and discovered it was only a leaf falling from a tree.  Birds and things move much more quietly this time of the day.

At some point I noticed the sound of crickets and frogs had filled the quiet around me.  This is much like that “white noise” we experience, but so much better.  It really is something.  And still the squirrels and things moved in the trees without a sound.  They seem to have so much more confidence and swagger as the woods grow dark.  They’re intimidating, almost.  There’s a sense of a some kind of plot being set up by the squirrels and I expect them to turn on me at any moment.  But they don’t.

Lakewood Cemetery

In cemetery tonight I noticed two deer squaring off and butting heads.  I guess that’s what they do in the fall.  I had never seen it before and I had to go to the wilds of inner Minneapolis to find it.I took a video of the deer, but I cannot figure out how to load a video clip on WordPress!  (Maybe someone can help.)  Alas, it isn’t the clearest video anyway…I am still using only my camera phone for most photos.  (And I think I do ok with my camera phone.  Mathew Brady did great things with a wooden box after all.)

I climbed through the brush to get to the cyclone fence separating the bird sanctuary from the cemetery and took some pictures.  In the low light I’m afraid I didn’t get much.  I did see this thing, though…what is it?  It appears to be a pagan something-or-other and it is tied to a tree facing the cemetery.  I kept an eye open for trouble for the rest of my walk.  You never know.  (Ever see The Wicker Man?)

While I was watching the deer and hanging out with pagan talismans, I heard a raccoon nearby…or at least what I think was a raccoon.  Keep in mind that what I know raccoons to sound like is based on watching Gentle Ben as a boy, so I might have been wrong.  Regardless, whatever it was was loud and near.  I lingered for a minute longer at the fence and decided I better keep walking.  I was starting to feel spooked.

And when I got back on the path, guess what I saw coming up on to the path a few yards ahead of me…yes, a raccoon!  A big one, too.  The night before I stumbled upon a group of them crossing the path.  It was about the same time of the night and they startled me.  In fact, I shouted a silly, “Woo!  Raccoons!”  Half of them kept walking and the other half turned back into the dark bushes.  The raccoon I saw tonight stopped, stared, and … I swear it is true … shrugged his shoulders impatiently before turning back toward the brush.

The woods were dark now.  Shades of greys and deep blues mostly.  Ironically, I thought, the only light was in the cemetery.  It shined like a refuge.  The deer seem to enjoy it.  And I started to think about Harold and Maude.  It’s the cemetery connection, I think.  It might be time to watch that film yet again.  I do kind of wish it had been a series, like All Creatures Great and Small, that I could enjoy in an episodic way for weeks instead of repeatedly two hours at a time.  I have no idea how many times I have watched Harold and Maude, but it is a lot and I’m not certain why.  I keep thinking I am learning something when I see the film.  Can you learn something without knowing what it is?

Lakewood Cemetery

I’m sure I have learned a lot from All Creatures Great and Small.  Well, wait…let me back up…I have seen outstanding examples of what I should be learning — how to handle stress and hardship with style, dignity, and a pint of bitters, for example — but I am not convinced I have yet learned how to apply these examples into my own routine of stress and such.  I’ll watch Harold and Maude tonight and see if I can sort out what I should be learning there…

But back to my walk.

I will own up to becoming irrationally uneasy in the woods as I continued.  But I’ll also admit to finding some thrill in that.  If someone had unexpectedly appeared from behind a tree, I would have shrieked like a child.

This reminds me of a tip, in a roundabout way.  While walking in the woods and looking for wildlife, it is useful to turn around every so often and look behind you.  You will be surprised at how often you see an animal back there watching you walk away.  It is also a good way to protect yourself from The Headless Horseman and other creepy things that lurk in the woods at night.

I did seem to be sneaking up on a lot of small animals.  My shoes are exceptionally quiet, which reminds me that I need to contact the good people at Filson and complain about my squeaky Highlander Boots for which I spent a nice sum.  My pals call me squeaky when I wear them.  They are more of an annoyance than anything.  Silence in the woods is important, but I doubt it is the most important thing a person on the prowl needs to worry about.  Most animals will smell you before they see or hear you.  Sometimes I think if you just go plowing through the woods you might blend in better anyway…maybe get mistaken for a moose or a bear.  The animals might know the difference, but fellow hikers on the trail might not.  There might be some fun in that.

Make sure hunters have a good ethic, however, and shoot only at what they can see.  (More on hunting in a post to follow.)

As you can see I survived my stroll through the woods.  I did see another racoon.  (He seemed rather impatient with me, too, before turning back on the path and walking away.)  And I saw a rabbit…oh, I have to talk about the rabbit.  Bear with me.

I turned a corner and in the dusk saw a rabbit waiting in the middle of the path.  As I approached it got up and loped slowly a few yards ahead of me.  I’m not sure why it did not dart into the brush like the other rabbits, but then…how does it turn out in Lewis Carroll‘s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?…I thought I might be falling for a trap, so I turned and went down another path which…went deeper into the woods!  Then I thought…Aha!  So that is it!  You want me to over think this and go down that path!…so now I turned back around again and did so quite smartly  and — poof! — the rabbit was gone.

I outsmarted a rabbit!  And with that, I will leave you alone.

Lake Harriet Sunset. Walking Home.

Related articles

• Washburn A Mill Explosion (friendsofthecemetery.wordpress.com)

Still Treading Lightly

Lake Harriet, Minneapolis, Minnesota.Ah, one sentence written and still no politics in this post. It feels good, actually.It feels like this might be the specific week that marks the transition from late summer to early fall. Outside the air is still warm, but it feels cool. If you live in a place where seasons change, this will make sense to you. It explains why here in Minnesota we are running around in shorts when it is 5o degrees in April and wearing a sweater when it is 50 degrees in September.But outside now -- judging by the count of cricket chirps -- I would say it is a comfortable 60 degrees or so just shortly after sunset. That is a little too warm for the light jacket I wore on my walk. I am still waiting for those nights when the setting sun means the air will be crisp and frosty. There is plenty to look forward to.I took my typical walk down along Lake Harriet, past the band shell, and then into the woods at the Roberts Bird Sanctuary. As the days shorten this walk becomes much more exciting; dusk is an especially interesting time to be in the woods. The bird sanctuary borders Lakewood Cemetery, a perfect touch in the fall season.Tonight was especially still and quiet. More than once I thought I heard something moving in the woods and discovered it was only a leaf falling from a tree. Birds and things move much more quietly this time of the day.At some point I noticed the sound of crickets and frogs had filled the quiet around me. This is much like that "white noise" we experience, but so much better. It really is something. And still the squirrels and things moved in the trees without a sound. They seem to have so much more confidence and swagger as the woods grow dark. They're intimidating, almost. There's a sense of a some kind of plot being set up by the squirrels and I expect them to turn on me at any moment. But they don't.In cemetery tonight I noticed two deer squaring off and butting heads. I guess that's what they do in the fall. I had never seen it before and I had to go to the wilds of inner Minneapolis to find it.I took a video of the deer, but I cannot figure out how to load a video clip on WordPress! (Maybe someone can help.) It isn't the clearest video anyway, alas...I am still using only my camera phone for most photos. (And I think I do ok with my camera phone. Mathew Brady did great things with a wooden box after all.) I climbed through the brush to get to the cyclone fence separating the bird sanctuary from the cemetery and took some pictures. In the low light I'm afraid I didn't get much. I did see this thing, though...what is it? It appears to be a pagan something-or-other and it is tied to a tree facing the cemetery. I kept an eye open for trouble for the rest of my walk. You never know. (Ever see The Wicker Man?)While I was watching the deer and hanging out with pagan talismans, I heard a raccoon nearby...or at least what I think was a raccoon. Keep in mind that what I know raccoons to sound like is based on watching Gentle Ben as a boy, so I might have been wrong. Regardless, whatever it was was loud and near. I lingered for a minute longer at the fence and decided I better keep walking. I was starting to feel spooked.And when I got back on the path, guess what I saw coming up on to the path a few yards ahead of me...yes, a racoon! A big one, too. The night before I stumbled upon a group of them crossing the path. It was about the same time of the night and they startled me. In fact, I shouted a silly, "Woo! Raccoons!" Half of them kept walking and the other half turned back into the dark bushes. The raccoon I saw tonight stopped, stared, and ... I swear it is true ... shrugged his shoulders impatiently before turning back toward the brush.The woods were dark now. Shades of greys and deep blues mostly. Ironically, I thought, the only light was in the cemetery. It shined like a refuge. The deer seem to enjoy it. And I started to think about Harold and Maude. It's the cemetery connection, I think. It might be time to watch that film yet again. I do kind of wish it had been a series, like All Creatures Great and Small, that I could enjoy in an episodic way for weeks instead of repeatedly two hours at a time. I have no idea how many times I have watched Harold and Maude, but it is a lot and I'm not certain why. I keep thinking I am learning something when I see the film. Can you learn something without knowing what it is?I'm sure I have learned a lot from All Creatures Great and Small. Well, wait...let me back up...I have seen outstanding examples of what I should be learning -- how to handle stress and hardship with style, dignity, and a pint of bitters, for example -- but I am not convinced I have yet learned how to apply these examples into my own routine of stress and such. I'll watch Harold and Maude tonight and see if I can sort out what I should be learning there...But back to my walk.I will own up to becoming irrationally uneasy in the woods as I continued. But I'll also admit to finding some thrill in that. If someone had unexpectedly appeared from behind a tree, I would have shrieked like a child. This reminds me of a tip, in a roundabout way. While walking in the woods looking for wildlife, it is useful to turn around every so often and look behind you. You will be surprised at how often you see an animal back there watching you walk away. It is also a good way to protect yourself from The Headless Horseman and other creepy things that lurk in the woods at night.I did seem to be sneaking up on a lot of small animals. My shoes are exceptionally quiet, which reminds me that I need to contact the good people at Filson and complain about my squeaky Highlander Boots for which I spent a nice sum. My pals call me squeaky when I wear them. They are more of an annoyance than anything. Silence in the woods is important, but I doubt it is the most important thing a person on the prowl needs to worry about. Most animals will smell you before they see or hear you. Sometimes I think if you just go plowing through the woods you might blend in better anyway...maybe get mistaken for a moose or a bear. The animals might know the difference, but fellow hikers on the trail might not know the difference.Make sure hunters have a good ethic and shoot only at what they can see. (More on hunting in a post to follow.)As you can see I survived my stroll through the woods. I did see another racoon. (He seemed rather impatient with me, too, before turning back on the path and walking away.) And I saw a rabbit...oh, I have to talk about the rabbit. Bear with me. This rabbit stayed on the path ahead of me for a good twenty yards. I'm not sure why it did not dart into the brush like the other rabbits, but then...how does it turn out in Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?...I thought I might be falling for a trap, so I turned and went down another path which...went deeper into the woods! Then I thought...Aha! So that is it! You want me to over think this and go down that path!...so I turned back around quite smartly and -- poof! -- the rabbit was gone.Guess what...I think I outsmarted a rabbit! And with that, I will leave you alone.Lake Harriet Sunset. Walking Home.

Related articles

• Washburn A Mill Explosion (friendsofthecemetery.wordpress.com)
• Nebraska AG Bruning Compares Welfare Recipients To Scavenging Raccoons (crooksandliars.com)
• Fifty-year squirrel project ends (bbc.co.uk)
• Staying Clear of Politics (alittletourinyellow.wordpress.com)
• 25 Years of Fun {Lake Harriet Band Shell} (twincitiesdesigncollective.com)

Sweet Lake

 

Early Evening Calm on Sweet Lake.

No television or newspapers for me tonight, nor has there been much of that over the weekend.  I returned this evening from a short two days at Sweet Lake in northwestern Wisconsin.  While away I eased myself out of my routine so effectively I forgot to change my socks and smoke my cigar.  Not necessarily things I do together at the same time, but either one is a certain sign that I was preoccupied.

But preoccupied in good ways, I think.  I was there with my brother, an uncle, and two cousins.  An early autumn trip with them has become a bit of a tradition.  We didn’t stand around and look at each other as much as we have in the past, but we shared a good time nonetheless.

For my part, I think I could use more time in a remote quiet place without distractions.  The cabin is stocked with many artifacts from the past, including a small collection of books, that set a mood I enjoy.  I like to think about the cabin’s previous owner reading those books which were likely a large source of evening entertainment back in 1952, say.  I started reading The Clock Strikes Thirteen and it was difficult to focus on story.  My mind wandered instead to thoughts of what it might have been like sitting in a rustic cabin 50 years ago reading about life in New York City while on a small isolated Wisconsin lake.

For a moment my uncle found a radio station playing songs that recalled the Big Band era of years ago…but that station quickly got changed to some slick contemporary station out of Duluth or Superior.  Madonna didn’t really fit the scene so well for me.  But I read on and found a few other interesting books.   All very good.

And, of course, where would I be if I were not a bit hypocritical about my pining for rustic isolation?  We did indeed go out for a drink or two and a pizza.  Dinner in the cabin was quite nice, however…still, you have to get out and stimulate the local economy these days and staying in touch with the locals is a good idea too.  So out we went.

This is the perfect time of the year to be alone at the lake.  This morning we had a breakfast of quiche, rolls, apples, and toast on the picnic table with a comfortable early autumn chill and it could not have been nicer.  The entire day sort of teetered between summer warmth and autumn chills; it is that time of the year.

And here I am tempted to go all quasi-psuedo-philosophical on you and say that I couldn’t help but feel a little Septemberish myself, teetering between this and that and wondering which was the better way to go, but I’ll spare you the self-analysis at the moment and talk about Rick, the chipmunk, instead.

Now Rick…there’s an enterprising guy that is anything but a September dude.  He’s all action and determination and full of purpose.  Staying away from owls and coyotes are a top priority, but an even more urgent task is at hand and so he goes at it.  This is the time of the year when Rick gathers up some reserves for the winter.  I felt good about this, seeing Rick scamper about without complaint or delay.  So I put some peanuts out for him, which I hope won’t spoil his strong hard-work ethic.  (I don’t think so…chipmunks don’t seem to be very neurotic animals to me.)

Splintered Pine

I did get a couple short walks, but I don’t have much to show for them.  No photos of deer or wooly bears or bear scat to share this time.  I did find this awesome trunk of a very old pine splintered at the back of our lot.  It was a tall tree — at least 40 feet tall, I think — and it snapped while others remained standing.  That in itself is interesting.  But look at the trunk of this old tree.  It is absolutely shattered.  In fact I found an eight-foot splinter about 25 feet from the trunk caught up in some hazelnut bush.   I started carrying it back, but it was heavy and sticky with sap.  I leaned it against a tree to get another time and I regret now not saving it today.  The wood now is a rich butter-yellow color and soft and smooth.  When I see it again it will likely be turning grey in the weather.

Virginia Woolf made the point that a woman needed a room of her own if she were to have the opportunities to fully realize her potential.  (I’m paraphrasing interpretation here, but that’s more or less it.)  Depending on how you want to read Virginia Woolf’s thesis, you could see how she thinks a level of security and comfort is necessary for the full and free pursuit of one’s interests, but I think there is something more spiritual and affirming about her idea.  A room of one’s one is also a space, both literally and figuratively, where a person has a degree of poetic license…a place to sort things out, if you will.  These weekends away are kind of my room.   I think we all need these.

I’m still looking for that passion, however…that thing that tunes me up and gets me running…and sometimes I feel like it is right there, about ready to converge upon me.  Getting warmer, maybe…

And then, alas, I have tomorrow’s meetings creeping up on me and my noisy neighbor sorting glass in recycling bins behind me.  The noise!  Noise, noise, noise…yes, the noise.

 

A Note From The Field: Selling to your neighborhood business…lessons for all.

What most business owners look like to salesmen...

I do not like to sell to businesses in my neighborhood because more often than not I don’t like the results.  It isn’t necessarily the “no” that often occurs in sales, but getting to that no that’s the problem.

I prefer to think of my local business owner as a sincere and sharper invidual than most, but a short sales call can turn around that impression in a hurry.

Sadly, most business owners would do much better if they were a little less sure of themself, a little less close minded, and this is as true as it is of your local grocery store owner as it is of the dentist across town.  Your favorite business is likely run by someone no different than most.  So when working on sales I mostly avoid my local business owner and almost always regret it whenever I don’t.

Today, for example, contacting a business facing new competition in my neighborhood is an ideal candidate for a local marketing campaign that includes a mix of direct mail, loyalty promotions, and internet marketing.  Plus we are offering
incentives to new advertisers that make this program especially attractive to a small business owner, including complimentary add ons to even a small marketing campaign.

But the business owner never learned about the promos.  He stubbornly refused to accept any information and when I explained some of the features, he mocked them.  We have, for example, QR links to custom websites we offer at no charge on direct mail pieces.  He said he had never seen a direct mail that included a website, telling me that he only sees websites on the internet.  “I have no time for you.  Sorry.”  And that ended it.

First off, I’m not going to waste my time on the stubbornly naive and unwilling to be informed business owner.  Secondly, I didn’t want to sour my impression of this business any further.  True, what he chooses to do with his business is indeed his business.  I understand that.  And I understand that business succeeds without me.

What most salesmen look like to business owners.

However that does not mean that I might not bring value to a business.

Let me suggest, however, that if you’re going to spend time — even as little as five minutes — you might as well spend that time wisely.  LISTEN!  When people listen, the often learn.  At the very least you can determine whether the offer has merit or not.  It always amazes me when people won’t listen to a salesman.  What do you have to lose?  Do people think they are so weak that a salesman might trick them into making bad decisions?

Have confidence, be bold, and listen to a salesman!  Have some backbone.  All we ask for in return is a bit of civility and professionalism.  In the end you might come out ahead…and maintain a good impression, too.  How you treat clients — and many sales people are also clients — reflects on your business.  Keep that in mind.

 

Related articles

• Successful Business Owners Know You Have to Listen to Your Instincts (community.constantcontact.com)

Roughing it Elegantly

These Guys Get It!

I borrowed the title of this post from a book I had as a boy.  Roughing it Elegantly was a guide to the outdoors by Patricia Bell, I believe.  (I suppose I can look it up.)  Reading the book inspired an interest in the outdoors that hasn’t entirely faded, but has become far too passive.

It is another guide the outdoors that I want to comment about anyway.  Specifically it is a tip in the book that I enjoy very much.

The book is Your Cabin in the Woods, a 1945 perspective on recreational outdoor living written by Conrad Meinecke.  It is great fun to read and I often read it cover-to-cover in one sitting when I do read it.

The tip I enjoy most always makes me feel good.  I like the aesthetic, the style of the tip…literally.

In the chapter “What Shall I Wear?” he suggests for “Winter Togs” that one should select a “necktie to reflect one’s personality, whim or mood.”  Shoot, yes!  Why would you do anything else?  And I look forward to doing just this, selecting a necktie that reflects my personality, whim or mood whenever I am tramping about in the woods.  In fact I just went to the Brooks Brothers site (seems entirely apropos to fulfill this advice at Brooks Brothers) and selected two ties that I think will suit the task perfectly.  Both are a wool flannel and one suits a more flashy mood (stripes) and the other a more serious or working mood (grey herringbone).  I can hardly wait!

Now of course I need to make sure I have the proper shirt and vest or jacket combination for this tie, but I doubt there will be many fashion critics at the Decoy Inn or the Lumberjack to judge me one way or the other.  In general I think we need a bit more style — a little more panache – around us whether in the woods or not.  I’m going for it.

Not Bad, But a Tie Wouldn't Hurt.

And, by the way, it is indeed Patricia Bell who wrote Roughing it Elegantly.   I highly recommend both of these books — Your Cabin in the Woods and Roughing it Elegantly — for anyone with outdoors interests.   Roughing it Elegantly is a more practical and current guide book, but both offer a flavor for things as they once were and still can be in the woods.  They just come from the perspectives of different eras.  Nothing wrong with that either…just like wearing a tie in the woods.

Now that you have read this, tell your friends before scrolling down and reading more posts.  Hurry.  Don’t dally.

And since I am pointlessly babbling rather than concisely concluding my post with purpose, let me stoop to a little materialism, as if I haven’t already.  But golly…I have to say, I’m kind of giddy all over about this Bodum Frykat Grill!  You want to talk outdoorsy panache?  This has panache.  Where do I get one?

Shame Ethics, Nietzsche, and James Gilligan

I am reading Why Some Politicians are More Dangerous Than Others by James Gilligan.  The book presents an interesting thesis.  He shows data that correlates a rise in violent crime with periods when a Republican occupies the White House.  The analysis of why this is the case is the interesting part of the book.  I recommend reading this book.

I have reached an argument in his book that I think needs to be checked, however.  It really will not affect his thesis one way or the other, but I don’t think his conclusions are correct.  I am looking for help with this one if anyone reading this blog has ideas.

Specifically Gilligan draws a comparison between what he calls Shame Ethics with Nietzsche’s Master Morality.  He says people who identify with the Shame Ethic also identify with Nietzsche’s Ubermensch, or Superman.  (Pages 104-110)  I don’t think this is quite right as Gilligan is trying to frame his argument.

(You want to reference Human, All Too Human and Thus Spoke Zarathustra…or good notes!)

Gilligan, in his book, argues that people identifying with a Shame Ethic are more likely to resort to violence to deal with shame.  “Shame Ethics is a moral value system in which the greatest evil is shame and humiliation, i.e., dishonor and disrespect, and the highest good is the opposite of shame, namely, pride and honor (respect).  (105)  He identifies Republicans with this ethic identification.  “Guilt ethics is a moral value system in which the greatest evil is guild (also called sin), and the highest good is the opposite of guilt, namely, innocence.”  He identifies Democrats with this ethic identification.

Gilligan then makes the generalization that conflates his Shame Ethic with Nietzche’s Master Morality where he says Nietzsche’s Master Morality would justify “being a slave-owner (as in the Old South, in the US), and violence in general (e.g., warfare, revenge, sadism).”  (108)

I don’t think this is correct.  In fact I think Gilligan is resurrecting old stereotypes that haunt Nietzsche scholarship and don’t accurately explain Nietzsche’s criticism of morality and society.  To put it simply, the Übermensch isn’t a sort of ethical free-for-all.  Rather it is living a life that accepts life for what it is and is able to choose based on that alone, not on some arbitrary moral code.  The Übermensch is a sort of ideal of control and self-realization, not a bully.

Inflicting one’s will upon others, which is what Gilligan seems to be saying, is not rising above “Good and Evil”, for example, but participating in it and participating within the social structure that Nietzsche critiques.

In the context that Gilligan is talking about ethics and morality, the slave or Christian morality can be faulted because it is an identity founded on an idea of ressentiment – roughly resentment or spite, there is no perfect word for the idea in English — where the nature of power is misunderstood and therefore becomes evil.  I think Gilligan interjecting Nietszche in his argument as he has muddles the distinction between Shame and Guilt ethics that he is trying to make.  In short, I don’t think he has it right as he applies Nietzsche as an example.

So that’s my aside as I read James Gilligan’s book.  Maybe someone with more expertise — and a more lucid writer — can add some thoughts about this.

By the way, I should add that I find Gilligan’s assessment of political identity and moral identity very convincing.  It isn’t an entirely new idea, but overlaying this correlation with United States presidential administrations reveals the importance of politics in quality of life.  I think there is a bit more of a chicken or egg question that should be kept in mind while considering these things, but Gilligan is on a path with others in his assessment of moral identity and politics.  George Lakoff comes to mind.

Back to the book.

Related articles

• Why Some Politicians Are More Dangerous Than Others (politicalwire.com)

Why I Can No Longer Watch Local News

I am mostly finished with local television news.  Just can’t watch it anymore.  I spend enough time trapped in inane conversations and watching the news has become something like being at a dull cocktail party.  The offenses to intelligence are many, but the recurring little annoyances offend the most.

Take the weather, for example.  It is de riguer that any person behind the news desk be a weather whiner.  I’m not talking about the weather reporters necessarily, but the news so-called news folks.  I live in Minnesota.  The weather here is varied and interesting and not always “nice.”  But the youngsters behind the weather desk whimper about clouds and cool breezes as if they were stationed on a wind-blown island off the coast of Antarctica.  You know…I get it.  Cool people like balmy spring holiday weather.  Great.  But you’re on the god damned television news in Minnesota.  Please shut up about the weather.

As a corollary, there is the offense of hyping up the weather to a level that would make Jim Cantore (it is all his fault) proud.  Keep in mind that this is 2011.  How many times have you heard a weather story punctuated with an observation like “we haven’t been that cold around here since 2008″?  Uh-huh.  Right.  Bad cocktail party chatter without the cute cocktail dress.  Or the drink.  (Although I’m starting.)

Guess Which One Does the Weather.

This kind of weather exaggeration brings attention to exaggeration and hyperbole generally.  Now I don’t want to make light of tragedy, but just yesterday I learned that the plane crash at a Reno, Nevada, race left a crater three feet deep and up to six feet wide.  The news anchor spelled it out slowly so you wouldn’t miss the significance:  “Three – Feet – Deep” and shook her head as she emphatically enunciated each word.

Three feet?  I’ve seen people fall off a bike and leave a bigger divot than that.

But most of us have a short attention span and before we have time to decide whether a three foot ”mpact crater is significant or not we’re off to the next story, probably something about a panda eating ice cream or something.  This is when the news can actually be fun.  More often than not your newscaster might forget to turn off the sturm and drang gravitas and kick in the happy smiley story persona.  Of course it might not be good news for the panda with the ice cream, but we’re supposed to be happy.  Smile.

And can I say this…can I just say this and hope it gets out there to the news and weather people in places like Minnesota?  Ice on freeways is not all black ice!  Black ice is the bete noir of our winters.  Grandmother slips on sidewalk.  Black ice.  Car slides off road.  Black ice.  Truck slams school bus.  Black ice.  Technically, black ice occurs in extreme cold conditions when car exhaust freezes to road surfaces, usually at places like intersections where cars idle.  (That’s my definition.)  But “Black Ice” is so much more dramatic than run of the mill “icy” or “slippery” so…naturally…in the melodramatic world of television news all ice is black ice.

Finally — I know I don’t have to bring it up — but news people act as if we really think they really care about us.  I can guess most of my local news people have parents, for example; I don’t need to see my evening news anchor’s mom teaching me how to bake lasagna.  I suppose these are so called human interest elements and cheer up people, make the smile, but I prefer more John McLaughlin and less Rosie O’Donnell in my newscast.

Jim Cantore

Oh cripes…one more thing…hair.  Did I mention hair?  On windy days we lose a good five minutes of every news cast to pointless news anchor banter about how difficult it is to keep news anchor hair in place.  (Jim Cantore doesn’t fret over this.  He’s a good man that way.)

Ok, I’m done.  And look at that!  An entire post and not one deserving shot at the backward ignorance of the GOP.  See, I can keep my blatantly partisan and all-too-correct politics out of these things.  I’m just becoming a grump instead.

Sunday Morning…Ugh.

I have come to dread Sunday mornings.  Pick up the paper or turn on the television and you have an eye full of what’s wrong in the United States.  If it needs to be summed up in one word, that word would be stupidity, but it comes with all its related manifestations.  Ignorance, paranoia, immorality, corruption.

For my part, I am tired of the political right.  What a pack of unpleasant people.  They range from pathetic puppets to disgraceful criminals.  These people have no legitimate ideas and should not have a legitimate voice in our government.  But they do.  When a democracy suffers, the problems startswith the voter, alas.  And until we become better and smarter, we can expect to suffer under bad ideas.

So let’s go for a walk.  Take our mind off of things for a while…I’ll be back.