Archive for the ‘Prescient observations’ Category
Jeff Wilson: An Elegiac Portrait
I’ve been asked to describe my good friend, Jeff Wilson, to those who never got a chance to meet him. Here’s my best take, which I know will be inadequate.
Jeff was a very kind, compassionate person. He deplored the evils of this world, most particularly selfishness, greed and stupidity, but refrained from passing judgment on anyone. (More people should be like this.)
Jeff loved animals, and kept several cats (or maybe they kept him; I’m not sure). His cats were extremely important to him, and he treated them with respect and dignity — but don’t take that to mean he didn’t enjoy them, because he did. They often made him laugh, and he viewed this as an unalloyed blessing (which indeed, it was).
Jeff was an excellent friend. He was always there whenever he was needed, and he’d do whatever he could to help. He was an excellent listener; more to the point, he understood what he heard, which was a rare and special quality.
Jeff had very strong principles and an intrinsic sense of balance. Perhaps this was due to his appreciation of Eastern religious thought, most particularly the words of Confucius and Gautama Buddha; maybe it was just something about him that would’ve been there even without that, though studying those tenets certainly helped refine these excellent qualities.
Jeff searched for excellence in all things. He rarely found it, but when he did, he was as delighted as a child unwrapping just the toy he or she had wanted at Christmas.
Jeff appreciated classical music because it brought him closer to the Divine. His favorite composer was probably Ludwig van Beethoven; his favorite piece was Gustav Holst’s The Planets.
Jeff read everything, but he had a particular love for two different and disparate styles of writing: science fiction and fantasy on the one hand, and the highly structured and mannered novels of Jane Austen and her imitators on the other. He loved the former because they opened up new worlds and ways of thought to him; he loved the latter because they proved that even in a highly mannered world (now lost), people often acted rashly, badly, and without forethought — but how they got out of trouble in the end and found worthy pursuits was very similar to our own time. (In other words, Jeff found the commonality of human experience to be worthy, regardless of genre.)
Jeff was a nonmaterialist, a nonconformist, was an autodidact (meaning he taught himself many things he’d never learned in school and could absorb almost anything), a writer, an artist, dabbled with poetry but was rarely satisfied with his efforts (which to my mind, would make him a poet; not to his, though). He loved life, talking with people about anything and everything, and wanted to know all that was knowable.
I will miss him profoundly.
Life, the Universe, and the Unexpected
Sometimes, life throws you something you really didn’t expect.
Take my good friend Jeff, for example. About a month ago, he felt ill but had no idea what was going on; he was taken to the hospital, where he was found to have a massive infection. He nearly died, as he had to have open-heart surgery due to the infection being too well-rooted in his heart (the antibiotics started to kill it everywhere else, but not in his heart); at the age of only forty-seven, he came way too close to death.
Fortunately, he has survived that. And he sounds like he’s on the mend, though the road back from this is likely to be a long and difficult one. But I have hope that he will fully recover, as his mind, voice, and most of his memories are intact. (More about this below.)
A health crisis like this was completely unexpected — who would ever think something like this would happen? And having gone through something like this, except worse, with my late husband’s Michael’s sudden passing seven years ago didn’t make this any easier from my perspective; I really wanted to be there for Jeff as I care very much about him, I wasn’t able to get there (he lives several states away), and he nearly died.
I’m very glad he survived. (This is an extremely basic way to put it, of course, and I wish I had a better one. But sometimes, the plainest words speak best.) I will do whatever I can to help him in the difficult journey that lies ahead . . . wishing I had better words than this to explain what’s going on, but that’s the best I can do.
Jeff’s near-brush with death has shaken my own faith rather badly. I realize that in no valid religion or spiritual practice will it ever say that good people should survive such terrible things; Michael didn’t survive, though he fought harder than anyone I’ve ever seen to do so, and he was by far the best person I have ever known. (I’m sure he went to the Good Place (TM), too, or wherever it is wonderful people go after this life ends.) But for Jeff to first suffer the vagaries of this horrible economy, then have this happen to him and me having no way to get to him to even try to help, seems to add insult to injury. (Not to me. To my friend.) And that he’s going to have to work like the dickens just to get back to where he was . . . well, that he has the chance to do so is what I’d prayed for, so I’m glad of that. But it seems . . . unjust, at best.
Of course, no one ever promised that life would be fair, even to good people like my friend. But does life have to be this unfair?
I know, I know. We don’t have all the answers. Sometimes we can’t even ask the right questions. Being able to persevere is what makes the difference, to my mind, between a successful person and an unsuccessful one. And I know Jeff will persevere, because I view him as a successful person (I always have), no matter what’s going on all around him externally.
Jeff’s mind has returned to him, thankfully, but not all of his memories have. I’m happy he remembered I am a saxophonist; when I told him that I’ve been playing, and am now in a symphonic band, he was very congratulatory and he meant it. But he’s forgotten all about his favorite of my unfinished novels, CHANGING FACES — the one I’m working on for NaNo right now — though he remembers the Elfyverse (the completed and looking for a home novel ELFY, the in-progress AN ELFY ABROAD and the prequel, KEISHA’S VOW), which I found out when I mentioned the latter novel.
When I told him that he’s been asking me for the past two-plus years to please finish CHANGING FACES and be done with it, I got no reaction from him; then I explained how long I’ve been working on it, and that I’d written 6000-plus words into chapter 20 and have 600-plus in chapter 21 after it being stalled out for nearly one and a half years. He recognized that as an achievement, and congratulated me on it, but it didn’t really mean much to him because he can’t remember the plotline, at all.
That the main reason I started working on CHANGING FACES as my NaNo project is because I wanted to do something, no matter how tangential, that I felt Jeff would appreciate as my way to honor him and what he was going through. Maybe it sounds silly that this was my motivation for re-opening this MSS, but there it is.
I wanted to write something that I felt Jeff would like to read down the road, when he’s again capable of reading well (right now, he isn’t, and this is a skill he’ll have to work hard to regain). So writing this newest chapter of CHANGING FACES was my way to express to my friend Jeff, without words, “I believe you have a future, and I want you to read this in that future.” But I wasn’t able to explain this well to him tonight. At all. (Though of course I’ll try again tomorrow, providing I’m able to reach him.)
Jeff is a very spiritual person, with a strong grasp of what’s going on in this world; to my mind, he nearly personifies the phrase “down to Earth.” He’s an intelligent, funny, interesting person with a great many gifts and talents, who’s been hampered by a pitiful economy and a less than stellar personal situation that was all of a sudden made much worse due to his health crisis. Jeff is a writer, a Webmaster, and is very hard-working in his own idiosyncratic way; I’m very grateful that he’s doing so much better, and I believe his strong will and deep faith will sustain him over time.
All that being said, I wish this hadn’t happened to him. Because he truly doesn’t deserve it.
Performances, Chaz Bono, and DWTS
This week on “Dancing with the Stars,” it was Broadway Week — meaning every star had to do a ballroom dance of some sort to a Broadway song and also put some “Broadway inflection” into his or her routine. Chaz Bono and his professional partner, Lacey Schwimmer, drew the tango — not an easy thing to dance to a Broadway tune — and the theme to Phantom of the Opera.
Now, I’ve written before about my liking for Chaz Bono before; I believe what he’s doing, in being open about his past gender identity struggles and being the first transsexual contestant ever on DWTS, is a very good and empowering thing. I also think that as a heavier person, he dances well and shows that it’s a complete myth that “big people can’t dance.”
His routine tonight to “Phantom” was a tough one; his partner, Lacey Schwimmer, told him early on that he’d have to “step it up” and do more difficult choreography — that the “super-basic” routines he had learned up until now wouldn’t work. (Note that last week’s samba routine was not all that easy; what I think Schwimmer was referring to was the rhumba routine and some of the routines before that, which were at the most basic level.) I think this was difficult for Bono to hear, but he handled it, learned his routine, and performed it well.
Then came the judges, who were more critical than Bono had anticipated (they were about what Lacey Schwimmer expected, though of course I’m sure she’d hoped for better); they said that the role of the Phantom “did not suit” Bono (both head judge Len Goodman and judge Bruno Tonioli said this pretty much word-for-word, while judge Carrie-Ann Inaba said it in a slightly kinder way, referring to the “challenge” of acting a character that is not your own), that the dance of the tango wasn’t fiery enough or precise enough, and that Bono altogether “lacked the sense of menace” that a dance like this requires (Goodman, again). No mention was made of the fact that Bono danced most of the dance in the half-mask of the Phantom; no mention was made that Bono’s movements were sharper and crisper than they’ve ever been, and that the form of the dance was preserved throughout.
As a performer myself (though not a dancer or actor), I’ve been there. So I have some words for Chaz Bono that I hope he’ll heed tonight: “Mr. Bono, please, do not listen to the harshness of these critics. You have to understand that as a performer, not everyone is going to appreciate what you do, and you can’t do anything about that. You can only control what you can do — which you did, as you danced the best I have ever seen you on the entire season of ‘Dancing with the Stars.'”
Or, in other words — I think the critics, while they’re certainly correct about the forms of the dance and maybe had a point about being more emphatic in your movements (the only way you could possibly have been more “menacing,” it seems to me, behind the Phantom’s half-mask, is to be very direct, cutting, and emphatic), are flat wrong about how you danced.
Look. Your partner, Ms. Schwimmer, is correct about the way the judges will act. This is just what they do; some of it is for effect, because they want to make a better show — and some of it is just how they are overall.
Schwimmer knows this; she’s been dealing with these same judges now for several years. All of her training is meant to help you withstand their criticism; she is an exacting teacher, yes, but also a kind and honest one. She isn’t known for cursing or being upset with her pupils, in the main; she’s known for being able to teach anyone — including Steve-O of “Jackass” fame while he was just “getting clean” after finishing up some rehab for alcohol and drug addiction — to the point that her partners actually learn the dances, rather than just the routines.
Do you know what that means? You’ll remember how to rhumba years from now. You’ll know how to do the cha cha cha. You’ll understand the tango, and be able to do it again once you’re off the show — that’s because she does teach the “super-basics” as well as the flourishes a show like “Dancing” requires, because she wants you to understand the dance as well as perform it.
The upshot of all of this, Mr. Bono, is this — it was very hard for me, as a viewer, to watch your face fall once you’d performed your routine to “Phantom of the Opera.” I didn’t like seeing that, because that made me think that you’ve forgotten the most important person in the equation — you — and are basing your opinion of yourself on what other people think rather than what you think about yourself.
Granted, this can be very tough to do as a performing artist. I have been there (I once had someone criticize my oboe playing who had listened to three hundred clarinets in a solo-ensemble music contest; it was the one and only year I didn’t go to the state contest in high school — I was the only oboist this judge heard all day, too, which made it all the more unfair) and I know how difficult it is.
Here’s another example for you: I once had a saxophone lesson when I was going for my Master’s degree where I asked my professor, “Did I do anything right today?”
His answer was, “Of course! But if I don’t tell you what you did wrong, how will you ever improve?” (Note that I was an “older” Master’s candidate, going for my Master’s past age thirty because I believed in myself and felt I still had a chance to improve my playing and perhaps work in my field. I still believe that if my hands co-operate, I will be able to once again get back to where I should be and I really wish to work in my field, which is performing, teaching, and composing music.)
This is why I have great sympathy for you doing something so far out of your “comfort zone,” because you obviously believe it’s the right thing to do.
I think what Lacey Schwimmer is doing by giving you criticism about how to improve your dancing and your overall performance is meant so you can take the criticism, incorporate it into your performance, and become a better dancer. It certainly is not meant to wound you (even though it hurts, and badly, at the time).
As a performing artist (no matter how long I’ve had to be idle due to my carpal tunnel syndrome and other issues), I know that when fifty people compliment you, but one is highly critical, you tend to remember the one person who was so critical like it’s a burr under your skin. I can only imagine what it must be like to hear yourself be criticized like that by three judges on national TV.
I know that I, as a viewer, saw both improvement and personality in your dance. And I believe that as a performer, you did your job, because you did the very best you possibly could — you lived up to everything your teacher asked of you — in the best way you possibly could do it.
So what I’d like most to tell you is this: keep on dancing, Mr. Bono. You’re doing a fine job; you’ve learned a lot; you’ve hung in there and you’ve done everything in your power to improve and you have, indeed, shown improvement. And while your overall likeability is one of your greatest strengths, do you know what your best strength is? Your perseverance.
So keep on keepin’ on, and non illegitimi carborundum.
———
Oh, one other thing: if I listened to “the critics” regarding my saxophone playing (now that I can’t do as much as before, or at least as quickly as before), I’d not even be making the attempt to play. So yes, improvement must be taken into consideration here — which is why every single week, I’ve voted for Chaz Bono and Lacey Schwimmer and it’s why I plan to keep doing so.
Brewers Losing Game 5, but I Don’t Care
My Milwaukee Brewers are currently losing to the St. Louis Cardinals, 7-1 in the eighth inning . . . but I don’t care.
You might be wondering why this is so. Have I lost my love for the Brewers? (Um, no.) Have I decided that baseball isn’t that important? (Well, no . . . it’s still what it’s always been.)
Or is it that baseball isn’t as important as someone else’s life? (You’re on to something if you picked this option.)
Look. One of my best friends is in the hospital in Colorado, and I don’t have the financial wherewithal to go visit him. He has bacteria in his spine, brain and heart; I was contacted by a different friend who let me know what was going on.
I talked with my friend, very briefly, earlier this evening, and he sounds very ill. He’s been in the hospital for a week and it doesn’t sound like he’ll be getting out any time too soon, either.
Whatever’s gone so wrong for his health that he picked up a major bacterial infection and has landed in the hospital is such a terrible thing that it’s driving out much of anything else. I don’t have many details, not that they’d probably help if I did; I just know he’s ill, he’s too far away for me to visit, and I can’t do anything to help besides pray. (Which I am.)
Anyway, the Brewers still have Game 6 in Milwaukee, and can maybe win that. My brother has a ticket for Game 6 and I really do hope the Brewers will win and tie the series back up at 3-3.
But for now — just for this one game — I’m a lot more worried about my good friend than I am about the Brewers’ World Series hopes. Because the Brewers can always try again next year for the World Series if they miss it now (it’ll be tough to get there without Prince Fielder, who is assuredly going elsewhere as the Brewers cannot afford the huge contract Fielder wants, but at least it’ll be possible); my friend’s life, on the other hand, is in a real life and death struggle and I’m far more concentrated on that than I am about any sports team, no matter how much I appreciate them or the game of baseball in particular.
———-
Edited to add: I have added a tag with my friend’s name, Jeff Wilson, for those who knew him. I’ve had a number of people ask me what Jeff’s illness was; this is the main post where I discussed it.
I really wish I hadn’t felt the need to add the tag, though; it really stinks that Jeff is no longer alive to talk writing, politics, and the world at large with as he was a most excellent conversationalist. (And my best friend.)
Dancer Lacey Schwimmer Tells Critics to “Zip It”
This week, controversy swirled around “Dancing with the Stars” cast member Lacey Schwimmer, a professional dancer, because supposedly at 5’3″ and being a size six, she’s “too fat.” As this isn’t the first time her weight has been talked about in a derogatory manner, Schwimmer has apparently had enough.
Here’s what she said here about these critics:
There’s nothing I can do about except let it go and get over it,” she told In Touch, adding two simples words for would-be critics, “Zip it!”
Let me try to explain how asinine it is that anyone would criticize this woman over her weight. Schwimmer, 23, is a size six. She dances for a living, so most of her body is toned muscle, as she is fit and in shape. She doesn’t have an ounce of flab on her, as the skimpy costumes the DWTS female pros often wear will show anyone who has any sense at all. And while she’s probably the curviest dancer on the show, that doesn’t mean her weight is too high; on the contrary. It means most of the other dancers need to gain weight.
Schwimmer seems to have a healthy body image, as the following quote shows:
“I have boobs, I have a huge butt and I have a lot of muscle,” the 23-year-old dancer told In Touch magazine, via the UK’s Daily Mail. “I like having curves – I’m proud of them!”
And I say, “Good for her!” Because if a woman who is a normal weight, who’s toned, fit, and in shape, is getting so much criticism, what chance do those of us who truly are “big, beautiful women” (also known as “full figured,” which are the kinder ways to say a larger than average size) have of being portrayed accurately in the media with any empathy at all?
Not Enough Words, Seven Years Later
Folks, as of midnight 9/21/11, it has been exactly seven years since I last saw my husband, Michael B. Caffrey, alive.
I keep wondering what, if anything, I could’ve done to save Michael’s life, but none of us knew that his heart was about to give out. If Michael had known anything of the sort, he would’ve camped himself in the nearest hospital ER even though he hated hospitals; there’s no way he’d have wanted to have his heart completely fail after four heart attacks, the first one having started around 10 a.m. on 9/21/04. He fell into a coma quickly thereafter and never again regained consciousness.
Michael fought hard; the doctors said they’d never seen anyone fight as hard as Michael did to cling to life. There was a pattern to the seizures he was having on the right side of his body; he appeared to be trying to communicate with me, even though he was in a coma. He certainly knew I was there and he was trying very hard to make his body work; he just couldn’t do it, that’s all.
At 8 p.m., about two hours after a fourth heart attack had lowered Michael’s blood pressure to 30/10 with a pulse rate of 4, Michael was pronounced dead. And I had to say goodbye to the man I’ve loved the most in all the world; I did my best to do this, even though it was and remains difficult for me to believe that my beloved husband Michael, an extremely creative, warm, and witty person, was dead.
I’ve told you in this blog post about how my beloved husband died. But I cannot tell you how he lived, except with gusto and grace; I cannot tell you how much he loved me, only how much I loved him.
So, even seven years later, I don’t have the words to express the depth of my feelings for my beloved husband. I wish I did; oh, do I wish I did.
All I can tell you is this: Michael changed my life for the better. I miss him every single hour of every single day. I know I always will. And because of that great love, I will keep trying to help our writing find its audience (his, mine, ours, makes no never-mind now because it all has to go through me); that’s the only way I know to keep even a small part of him alive.
What to do when a Publishing Relationship Ends
Why is it that most writers plan for the beginning of a publishing relationship, but never plan for the end?
I know, I know. The end of any relationship, in or out of publishing, is not what most people prefer to dwell upon because it’s depressing. The end of any relationship means the end of any current possibilities, and that’s sad and extremely difficult for most human beings to contemplate.
That being said, in the current world we live in, we need to plan how to deal with failure graciously. (Not that every end to every publishing relationship means you’ve failed, mind you; just that it’s going to feel like failure, especially when you know you’ve tried everything in your power to make a publishing enterprise work.) We need to learn how to come to terms with setbacks, be they minor or major, and learn to deal with them as graciously as possible.
See, I look at the publishing business as a long-term thing that, in its own way, is a microcosm of life. We’re going to have good days and bad. The good days are usually easy to handle; it’s the tough ones we must learn from as best we can.
What I do when a publishing relationship has ended is to acknowledge it, make some sort of announcement to those who need to know about it, and am otherwise as polite as humanly possible. My thoughts, which are greatly influenced by those of my late husband Michael in this regard, are these: who knows if I’ll be working with this person/these people in the future? So why be obnoxious now when there’s really no need for it?
Yes, we need to acknowledge when we’re upset or frustrated. I’ve never advocated “sitting on” any emotion, as in my experience that tends to fester and make things worse later on. But we don’t need to go out of our way burning bridges this way and that, either . . . in fact, if we can avoid burning bridges, that’s probably the best way to handle things.
All that being said, it’s sad when anything you’ve spent a great deal of time and effort on goes for naught; I’ve had this happen a few times this past year, and the only thing that can be done is this: chalk it up to experience, be as polite as possible, and move on.
This is very hard to do, granted. But if you can do it, others will notice and appreciate the professionalism of your attitude, which may lead you to further and better work in the future.
So, to sum up, here’s the three things you need to do when a publishing relationship of any sort ends:
1) Come to terms with it and write a brief, polite, professional note saying you’re sorry things have come to this pass (whatever it is), and that you’ve appreciated working with whomever. Also, if you can bring yourself to it, wish the person (or people) well in the future as this costs you nothing.
2) Acknowledge it to those who need to know in a brief, polite and professional note. (Keep your feelings about it, as much as possible, to yourself.)
3) Allow yourself to grieve the loss, because it is a loss — give yourself an hour, or even half a day if you must, to be upset over it. Then, do your best to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on.
Most importantly, do your best not to bear a grudge. Remember that we’re all human, we’re all fallible, and there’s no need to spread nastiness. You don’t need to put up with bad treatment, mind you; far from it. Just try to rise above it if you can while knowing that it’s possible that someday you might work with this person (or these people) again. And if that opportunity arises, you want to be able to work with whomever without undue rancor if at all possible.
You need to think long-term at a time when your inner self is screaming, “No!” at the top of its lungs. This isn’t easy, but if you can do it, it’ll help you in the long run.**
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** Michael’s name for this was the “better in sorrow than in anger” method. Try it. It works.
Kenosha News Refuses to Print my Election Letter
The Kenosha News, in their infinite whatever, refused to print my election letter on the grounds that I’m not a Kenosha County resident, and that I’m not a subscriber to their paper. Yet as far as I know, their “Voice of the People” section (what most papers call the “letters to the editor”) does not contain anything that says you must be a Kenosha County resident or a subscriber in order to comment on current events or anything else — I’ve read the Kenosha News many times because I don’t live that far from the Kenosha County line and often pick it up at a local gas station.
At any rate, since the Kenosha News refused to print my election letter, I’m going to print it here, in its entirety; you see if you find it objectionable in any way, shape or form:
To the Editor:
Though I live in the city of Racine, I have a great appreciation for Senator Bob Wirch and wish he were my state Senator. Here’s why.
In 2006, Sen. Wirch discovered that Gateway Technical College (which had a $2.4 million budgetary shortfall at the time) had appropriated five million dollars of taxpayer money to create two private organizations. One of these was actually run for profit, but did the taxpayers of Wisconsin ever see a dime? No!
Without Sen. Wirch bringing this to light, we’d have likely had no idea about what had happened to that five million dollars.
At a time of unprecedented belt-tightening, we need Bob Wirch to stay in the Senate to make absolutely sure that our money is spent wisely; we can’t afford to waste a single penny.
During these unsettled times, where Republicans run “fake Democrats” in recall primaries to give themselves more time to raise money, and Gov. Walker told the “fake David Koch” that he’d seriously considered planting fake protestors in Madison to cause further unrest, we need Sen. Wirch more than ever. He’ll fight against bad budgetary decisions while continuing to fight for a transparent, honest and accountable government.
We need more people like Bob Wirch in the state Senate, which is why I urge you to please cast your vote for him on August 16, 2011.
Sincerely,
Barb Caffrey
Racine, WI
Now, what’s wrong with this letter? That I like Bob Wirch? (That’s what election letters are for — expressing your appreciation, or your disgust, for a candidate running for office.) That I think it’s great he’s been able to bring things to light that otherwise would’ve gone unknown and unheeded? That it’s under 250 words, which fits their guidelines? What?
Mind, if the Kenosha News had prominently said on their Opinion page that they do not, emphatically do not, accept letters from people who neither live in Kenosha County nor subscribe to their paper, then I’d not be as upset. I’d still not be happy about it, but I’d not be upset.
My letter to them in return after they said they were uninterested in my “voice” was something to the effect that I didn’t appreciate this, at all. And that as I live in Racine County — right up the road from Kenosha — it’s ridiculous to think I don’t know what’s going on in this election, especially as part of Bob Wirch’s district runs straight through Racine County.
I also sent a voice mail, which, while again polite and using no four-letter words, expressed my outrage over this. Emphatically.
So, now I know that at least one newspaper in this area doesn’t care what real people think about the important recall elections. And that’s not just bad, sad, or shameful — it means they’re unwilling to do their real job, which in part is to report on what real people in their area think about the issues at hand. Including this recall election.