“Vulnerability is not weakness. I define vulnerability as emotional risk, exposure, uncertainty. It fuels our daily lives. And I’ve come to the belief — this is my 12th year doing this research — that vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage — to be vulnerable, to let ourselves be seen, to be honest.”
Just… you know… marking the day. Paul Farhi:
The Washington Post Co. has agreed to sell its flagship newspaper to Amazon.com founder and chief executive Jeffrey P. Bezos, ending the Graham family’s stewardship of one of America’s leading news organizations after four generations.
…
Seattle-based Amazon will have no role in the purchase; Bezos himself will buy the news organization and become its sole owner when the sale is completed, probably within 60 days. The Post Co. will change to a new, still-undecided name and continue as a publicly traded company without The Post thereafter.
It’s been years since Curt Siffert came to my house and played She Believes for me, and I still cry every time I hear it. I can’t listen to it with other people in the room, or in the car, because of all the slobbery weeping.
Related: get tinted windows on car.
See, Curt wrote She Believes about my great anxiety in raising a daughter. I’d confessed to him that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, that I was afraid I was messing her up, since all I knew about were boy things. We’d read Star Trek stories and play Transformers and G.I. Joe stuff, all the tropes and triumphs of my own youth. I was afraid she’d grow up worshipping John Rambo. I should say, I was afraid and excited that she’d grow up worshipping John Rambo.
So Curt wrote a song about it. Apparently, cementing a young parent’s anxiety in song is something friends do for one another.
And today, that song is on his first official CD. And it’s about damned time. The whole CD is fantastic, apart from my favorite song. I’ve never met someone quite so attuned to music — and his work at the piano exemplifies this effortlessness. But the surprises for me, as someone used to hearing this thing straight piano and voice, are in the robustness of the arrangements. His collaboration with Jake Oken-berg (producer) and the cast of musicians filling out his session band yields an incredibly rich take on what I hope many others will add as standards in their own jazz collections.
That means that you should all click here to go over to Curt’s website and buy the CD right now for $10. SO CHEAP.
PLUS! You will NEVER guess who did the photography on the thing. Never in a million billion years.
Please… IT WAS ME! So, you get all of Curt’s great music and some fun photography, too! For $10! I dare you to beat that with a stick.
There you go: my pitch for you to make your lives better with great music and Curt’s better by selling it to you. You’re all good people. You should get together on this.
I suppose I should add, regarding my daughter, I’m dutifully raising her as a fan of fantasy, science fiction, and nerdery, just like her old man. She can track, smelt, and quote from every series of Trek. Plus, she knows how to go outside and get dirty. I couldn’t be more proud.
Sometimes, we just don’t know things until we hear our own words rattled around back at us in song… everything’s perfectly all right now. We’re fine. We’re all fine here … now … thank you. How are you?
I have been teaching “Building Your Brand Online” for the Chautauqua Special Studies department for a few years now. I see it as a sign that I’ve made it that they asked me to sit down with the incomparable Jim Rosselle on his morning show to talk about about the course, online branding, and more. Jim’s a Chautauqua staple — I’ve seen him broadcasting from Bestor Plaza for years — so it was much fun to actually sit down with him and get acquainted.
I’m sitting in Starbucks in Seattle trying to get a little grading done and drinking this fine cup of chai. I can’t stop looking at it, not because if the brilliance of their new baked goods products. Not because of the otherwise fine use of fancy type. But because they used white type on light pink and it’s damned near impenetrable,
And the stuff is everywhere — aprons, posters, menus, wallboards, the works. For a company that is all about strong earth tones, this is strangely out of character.
Did I mention wild use of condensed type variants on wallboard menus? From 10 feet, they’re just about impossible to read, even for someone with strong vision.
My cosmic halfway point was in the Mountain Shadows Assisted Living facility in Tucson to see Edythe Taylor, my 100-year-old grandmother-in-law. She’d had some health issues, but not major. She was mostly plagued by… you know… age. She couldn’t hear all that well, so I had to scream at her, which seemed rude. She repeated herself occasionally. Still, she was pretty well put together for being one of 72k people who’d hit that mark. I should be so lucky.
Anyhow, she was great. She loved the surprise and gave me the gift of a wonderful shot of her big, beautiful face. I kissed her goodbye and made my way out.
Grammy passed last week. As lucky as I’d been to know her, I certainly didn’t know her as well as my wife. With that, here are Kira’s words to be read at the memorial service today.
I have always loved hearing stories about my grandmother, Edythe Taylor. Through her caring and generous spirit, she touched so many lives. She has been recognized by nearly every community group and charitable organization for her work, and the stories of her efforts in making the Quaker Oats man smile and the people she worked with in Chicago predate me by many years. In her scrapbook, I loved seeing her through the eyes of her community.
But my most precious memories of Edythe Taylor are through my own eyes, the eyes of her adoring grandchild.
To me, she was my Grammy! Looking back, there may have been many other concerns on her mind during the annual spring break trips I spent with her in Green Valley, but our weeks were filled with…
- early mornings feeding the birds,
- read-aloud sessions snuggled by the heater in the bathroom while the rest of the house slept,
- and cinnamon toast with extra cinnamon and sugar – the way only a grandmother is allowed to make it!
- Giggling for hours made us hungry for lunch, only to be satisfied by olive and cream cheese sandwiches (“Make me one just like yours, Grammy!”) and labored choices from the large tin of cookies in the middle of the lunch table.
- My memories of her are of the strong woman that braved snowy Christmases in Colorado, my high school graduation, a trip to see me in Russia at age 84?!, and her treasured trip out for my wedding.
In addition to her charitable work that reached so many in need, her loving presence in my life also has far reaches. Though we say goodbye to her today, she will live on
- in the birds at my own birdfeeder,
- in the cookies on my family’s lunch table,
- in the way I see those around me in need and how my children see the needs in their community,
- in the precious morning hours of every day.
Thank you, Grammy! We love you!
As I hit the front door, a younger woman came running out of a neighboring room. She stopped me and said, “You know, you were talking sort of loud and I couldn’t help overhearing you. What you’re doing—driving around the country to thank people important to you?—that’s about the coolest thing I’ve heard of.” She put her hand on her heart. “That is an inspiration.”
I cried as I pulled out of the facility. First, because I’d made it to Grammy. Second, I think I’d realized just how stingy I’d been with my gratitude over the years. That this trip is such a surprise for so many—even the people I talk to all the time—tell me that I’ve done a terrible job telling people how important they are to me when it counts, at the moment.
So, even for such a brief moment of your life that you’d spent in mine, thank you, Edythe, for giving so much of yourself to your community, your family, and the strength and beauty you have passed on through your daughters, grand and great.
We had a superhero birthday party around my place last weekend. My now-7-year-old son needed all his friends to come over in their finest super hero regalia for two hours of mayhem. Yes, they destroyed our house. Yes, they were out of control energetic. But there were no tears, injuries, or hurt feelings the entire sprint.
The art project this year was a decorated photo frame of each kid doing their finest pose. It was fast, and I wasn’t quite set up right for my best work, but I have to say that I’m smitten by these super hero faces. So happy birthday, Iron Man. Thanks for bringing the gang over to play.
Watch the video, and then the FCC response will be more powerful. Well said, and thanks for not shivving this little bit of cultural uprising with a broadcast fine.
David Ortiz spoke from the heart at today’s Red Sox game. I stand with Big Papi and the people of Boston – Julius
— The FCC (@FCC) April 20, 2013
It took us a while to work up the courage to buy this amount of unlicensed meat in one grocery trip. Once we finally did it, the results were simply magical.
Of course I have plenty of great uses for bacon in a barbecue pit, but the longer I thought about it, the more I wanted to step it up a notch and clog a few arteries for those guys. Behold, BACON EXPLOSION!!!
When I arrived at the TWiT studios, I didn’t expect to meet Veronica Belmont. As a follower of finer podcasts and online media, I’ve been following Veronica’s work for some time and have learned a fair bit from her tech and entertainment reviews. See, Veronica Belmont is a personality. She’s part of a new caste of online personalities led (in a cosmic sense) by Robert Scoble, for whom the chic comes in the project, not the network. Veronica’s audience follows her accordingly, learning of her work not from her employer but from her feeds. She has loyal fans, friends, and followers across the net.
She boasts admirable skill as a producer; she’s smart, intuitive, and has a keen understanding of communicating the complex simply on air. But what I have learned from Veronica is the importance of personality. There is no pretense in a Veronica Belmont broadcast, no arrogance. She reads as someone deeply in touch with her viewers, not as an audience, but as friends.
Veronica is co-host of the Sword and Laser, a sci-fi/fantasy podcast née book club with Tom Merritt. I was lucky to catch them both in a show meeting on the set itself and managed to make this photograph of Veronica with her great dragon, Lem. Thanks, Veronica, for taking the time to share with a fan.
Sometimes, when I’m alone in my car and the windows are down, sun high, I put both hands on the wheel and grip it tightly. I blink a few times and if conditions are just right, I’m Steve McQueen. I used to think I was alone in these little flights of fancy, but I’m turning 40 this month and have come across enough adults now to realize that we’re all children on the inside. We just have more problems with our knees.
When I’m in that comfortable space, that Steve McQueen space, I rifle through my list of friends and family and try to imagine who they become in their quiet moments. For some, the image fades in and out. For others, it’s more clear. And for few, it’s locked in stone and iron, a picture in my mind indelible, fixed, immutable through time.
That is my sense of time when I’m with my dear cousin Maia. I’ve written of her home before — it’s impossibly, impassibly, inaccessibly high on a Los Angeles hillside in this dreamy space where walls are made of velour and wicker and around each corner you’re as likely to find something of which music may be created as you are a cabana boy fanning you with grape leaves answering only to Bernardo.
Maia positively oozes classical Diva-ness — she has since she was 6 — and batted nary a fantastic eyelash when I asked her to light up and get comfortable for our shoot. She is a flibbertigibbet, a word used here in as proud a sense as I can muster of Maia. When she moves in and out of character, she is plumbing the depths of spirit for a great joy — a joy that is channeled through her own magical whimsy in the service of others, her audience … me, I guess. There are social performers in the world, turning on their charm to make people laugh. They’re fun at parties, but duds over coffee. No spark.
But Maia, witnessing her moving into and out of performance is watching a life come into being. It’s Frankenstein’s monster’s first great steps. It’s a churning swell bursting into a deep belching wave. It’s the terrific transference of enthusiasm from one to another.
Plus, she does Star Wars in 30 minutes. She’s that kind of cool … original trilogy cool … amiright?
The diva thing made it clear that Maia needed the 1940’s treatment. It suits her, as a spirit out of time. When I look at this photograph, I see secrets behind great beauty. I see a woman who can all-too-naturally communicate the tragedy that comes from compromise and sacrifice. And I see a woman unafraid to play in the service of our joy.
I miss the Maia I hung out with when I was a kid. That chick was very cool. But this woman I photographed on her patio in LA? This chick is positively epic. I look forward to a lot more life in her orbit.
Besides … she’ll be a wicked funny old lady.
Ben’s my cousin. I don’t know him well enough. In fact, there are a lot of enoughs that come up regarding this guy.
When we were kids we hung out, sure. But we were just kids, seeing each other in passing, hanging out and swimming at the pool at grandma’s place. But life takes it turns and my folks took off for Colorado, and then … you know … cousins part ways. From then on out, we just haven’t been close enough.
Family is a pretty cool bond though. I’ve kept up with Ben through the network and tried to stay up to date through Facebook. He’s a musician, with a stunningly intimate relationship with his music. He’s not popular enough, that’s for damned sure.
A few years back, I crossed paths with Ben at grandma’s funeral. Apart from the somberness of the occasion, my big take-away was that cousin Ben had in fact turned into a giant. I never knew him as tall — younger than me and all — but he’d clearly outpaced the lot of us and become a skyscraper. But in all that hugeness, he comes with an air of gentleness that simply softens the space around him. I find myself at peace in Ben’s company, more relaxed for the time I spend with him, however brief.
That sense memory put Ben high on my list of people to photograph on my trip through Los Angeles, along with his sister Maia and dad, my uncle Jim. We met at Maia’s place first and after the initial whatnots we started thinking through the shoot. Maia’s LA home is fantastic, brilliant light beats through huge windows at sunset, and these glamorous blood-red curtains make for a perfect filter. Ben picked up the guitar, played a few licks, and there we were.
After this trip, I’m struck with a much more sobering memory of Ben than just his height. His dad — the aforementioned brilliant uncle Jim — has been suffering for some time. Ben has taken up the mantle of support on behalf of so many of us in the family who wish we could do — had done — more. When I look at this photo I see a guy who has poured such love into music that it makes my heart hurt. And when he tells me that no one has ever made a photograph of him with with a guitar, no one has ever photographed this part of his life for him, it reminds me of the sacrifices he’s made to support his family, to live with them, to help care for them.
When I think about the model of generosity and gentleness I want to impart in the character of my own kids, it’s Ben Peters. I can only hope that somewhere up the genetic path we share, I managed to pass on the humility and kindness that Ben shares with his world every day.
This poem in the folksong 乐府 style evokes the sensory pleasures of childhood and the seasons through which these classmates have journeyed to fifth grade. The last lines foretell their upcoming Capstone trip and the new paths they will take when they part ways come spring.
今晓日兼雨 Today at dawn, there was sun along with rain,
土芳当脚脏 The earth is fragrant, and it’s fitting that my feet are dirty.
故乡隔天末 My hometown lies beyond the edge of the sky,
异客应爽心 The foreigner should have a cheerful heart.
Credits
Photography, art, and set direction: Pete Wright
Calligraphy: Yin Ping Tong
Poem selection, art direction, talent wrangling: Heather Clydesdale
Art and Set Direction, Talent Wrangling: Kira Wright
Fountain of Patience: Hong Shentu
Hand Models: Chinese Fifth graders
Sun and Rain is a three-panel triptych prepared on a unique acrylic mount. There are no frames, allowing these precious hands to float together on your wall simply.
Sun and Rain was originally offered for auction to support The International School fundraising. The school is no longer making the series available for order.
Each individual panel is 15″ x 10″; the finished hanging size is approximately 15″ x 32″ if hung in portrait orientation or 47″ x 10″ if hung in landscape.
I’ve been trying hard to get through some of my favorite podcasts that have been stacking in my Downcast stream and stumbled on this one, an interview between Leo Laporte and Phil Libin on Triangulation from August of this year.
In terms of CEO-watch, Phil Libin of Evernote is my favorite right now. What makes this episode of Triangulation worth watching is seeing Phil go into some detail about how the freemium model has ended up working so well for Evernote, how they view their customers and the passion behind the product they make, even the candor with which he discusses the road to and from and back toward profitability in their growth. Worth watching if you’re a fan of Evernote or authenticity in company communication—this is refreshing.