24 June 2010

So, this morning, one of my co-workers showed up with his new (~10 days old) baby daughter. Then, this afternoon, another co-worker showed up with her 3 week old baby daughter. There are 16 people working in my department and four of them have had new babies this calendar year: one in January, one in February, and two in June.

We’re about 35 days from the baby’s due date. I’m happy to say we’ve really made some progress in the naming department. For a boy, we’ve decided on a first name, and we just need to check one more thing before we agree on the middle name. For a girl, we’ve decided on a middle name, and we’ve got the first name down to two options. So, hopefully we can narrow this down to two for-sure names (one for each gender) within the next five weeks.

Owen and I went out to the garage today and, while he road his trike and badgered me every 5 minutes to ask when we’d be going back inside, I put the final touches on the cradle. I didn’t really need to, but I felt like sanding and sealing the bottom – something I hadn’t done before. Certainly no one will ever see it, but, you know, there were some rough spots and markings on it that I wanted to get rid of. Now it’s just a matter of waiting while the fumes dissipate. It should be fine in a few weeks. So, if the new baby is early, he/she won’t have a cradle for a while until it’s fume-free. But I guess that’s okay.

25 June 2010

QUESTION: What person gets the most historical markers in any state? Nope, it’s not Abe Lincoln in Illinois, nor is it Washington in Virginia. Just keep reading.

Today I finally finished reading James Loewen’s book Lies Across America. I bought this book shortly after hearing Loewen’s lecture at St. Thomas. I’ve been reading it ever since. It took me a long time to read the book, since I was busy reading books for school, then I was simultaneously trying to work through the Little House books.

This was one of the best books I’ve read in a while. Loewen travels across America; each chapter (they’re very short chapters) discusses a monument, memorial, statue, or museum in the country and Loewen points out why it is a lie. In some chapters, he uses the museum or monument he’s discussing as a springboard to talk about a larger issue. At other times, he points out, not actual errors, but oversights, such as the fact the Scottsboro, Alabama doesn’t have any marker for the famous case of the Sottsboro boys.  In other cases, he points out monuments and plaques that ARE effective. He’s a fan, for instance, of the Lincoln Memorial, and he praises a marker in Maine.

The book begins in Alaska (where he discusses the horrendously names Mount McKinley) and then progresses east, ending on the east coast. He explains this only makes sense, because that’s the order in which America was settled. Never thought of it that way, have ya?

Here’s another interesting fact: Did you know that King County, Washington changed it’s name to…King County? Yep, it did. First it was named for Vice President William King (VP under Franklin Pierce, and a pro-slave racist), but in 1986 officials changed the name to honor Martin Luther King.

And here’s an interesting thing: following World War I, “The War to End All Wars,” many towns set up a monument to honor their soldiers. But, of course, that war didn’t end all wars. So, following World War II, the monuments were far more modest, sometimes the World War I markers were just amended to included World War II. This is odd considering America’s active involvement in part II lasted more than twice as long as its participation in part I.

And here’s a slight against men: Many markers tells of violence against women, but there’s not many that discuss similar violence against men, despite the fact that men are 4.2 times more likely to die a violent death than women. Loewen says that killing women is news…killing men is not.

Loewen frequently point out how markers tell of things being “settled” or “discovered” only when white people finally do it. The inference being that only once whites have seen a place has humankind actually discovered it. One area (Block Island, Rhode Island) displays a copper scroll on a boulder that says it was settled in 1661, despite the fact that prior to that date, there were over 1,350 people living there and, in 1911 (when the marker was erected), there were only 1,314. So…”settlement,” in this case, meant fewer people.

Much of the book discusses aspects of the civil war, and I was surprised to learn of the honors erected to the confederate as far north as Montana. Meanwhile, other monuments praise many confederate leaders, and outright lie about blacks helping in the Southern fight (they were not allowed to fight in the war until March 1865, mere weeks before the war had ended).  Of course, much of this is due to the KKK’s efforts and the end of reconstruction, but it’s amazing that so many “good darkie” statues and other markers praising slavery continue to exist to this day. And did you know Helen Keller’s birthplace sports a Confederate flag these days? Despite the fact that she was a strong anti-racist advocate and early supporter of the NAACP.

And do you know of Elizabeth van Lew? Maybe not…because the city of Richmond, Virginia, purposely built a school at the site of her childhood home in order to obliterate any memory of her (yeah, that’s another thing about many of the southern states: they get rid of any interesting sites regarding people who fought for equality), but you should. See, she was a spy during the Civil War. Probably because she was “only a woman” she managed to evade the eyes of confederates. In this case, the sexism came in handy. Though living in the Confederacy, she did not hide her anti-slavery feelings. She hid Union soldiers in her home, and nursed the wounded and, during a break at a POW camp, she helped 59 of the 109 escapees to get away clean.

Members of Confederate President Jefferson Davis’ staff ran away to the north, and Van Lew helped them. She even set fire to Davis’ mansion, though it was put out before too much damage occurred.

Van Lew set up a relay station to get information to Union headquarters. She was often able to supply general Grant with a morning copy of the Richmond newpaper – sometimes with fresh flowers included!She spent much of her time pacing the streets of Richmond acting insane so that no one would think she was worth the trouble and, in doing so, she was free to sneak in to Confederate offices and grab some information.

Following the war, she was a hated member of the community and lived like a pariah until her death. In 1912, the city of Richmond tore down her mansion “to get rid of all traces of her,” according to one historian.

The book has several stories like this. Stories that I’d like to see made into Hollywood films if for no other reason than to remind us that these people existed. We’ve had enough “War is awesome!” movies.

Go read this book. I’m adding it to my “25 Favorite Non-Fiction Books of All Time” list right now.

ANSWER: Confederate cavalry leaders and founder of the KKK, Nathan Bedford Forrest in Tennessee.

21 June 2010

Happy Summer Solstice!

Today we dined at Chipotle or, as Owen calls it, A-potes-way. Owen often opts for a soft-shell taco with nothing in it but rice and cheese. That’s what he got today (though I think he added in some lettuce, too). The cashier charged us $2.20 for each of his tacos, for a total of $4.40. This is more than double the usual price. In the past, we’ve been charge $1.10 or even just an even dollar for his tacos. I mean, there’s no meat, no vegetables, no guacamole, no salsa…so I don’t think Chipotle is out too much money when they make his meal.

Jennifer complained, but the cashier said she was charging us the lowest price possible for the tacos. Jennifer said in the past we’d only been charged a buck a piece but the cashier had no response. She didn’t even say: “We raised the prices.” She just said she ws charging us the lowest price possible.

I’m not sure if she was lying or if she just didn’t know how to charge the lower price. I’m gonna guess she was lying, primarily because I usually assume the worst in people.

22 June 2010

Birthing Class, part four of six today.

The highlight of class today – or would this be the lowlight? – was that we had to hold out our hands, have a glob of jelly plopped into our palm, then rub our hands together. It was an effective way of demonstrating the feel of the cervix and how it thins out during labor, primarily by the movement of the pelvis (represented by the lower hand on which the jelly sat) and the baby’s head (represented by the upper hand). At least, I’m guessing it was an effective demonstration. The point was that it’s important to move: if labor isn’t progressing, don’t just lie there in bed, get up and move around. I’m sure this is a tougher task for people in hospitals with cords and wires strapped to them, but thankfully I can chaulk all that crap up to ‘other people’s problem’ now.

Anyway, all I could think the whole time was: Get this jelly off of me! Oh my god – my skin was crawling. I absolutely hate the feel of sticky stuff on my hands. Ketchup, Honey, Milk, Jelly – I can not stand getting these things on my hands, and I wash vigorously until it’s all off – including the smell.

I don’t necessarily mind if my hands are dirty. Working with wood, or working with soil is just fine with me. Of course, I do wash my hands when I’m done with those things, but it’s not like I’m freaking out about it the whole time. It’s that stickiness that get to me. And the residual smell – ketchup, in particular, stays on the hands for quite some time. And jelly…man, oh man…I swear it’s impossible to use jelly without getting any of it on your hands. Just try.

23 June 2010

The big news for me today is the completion of another video:

Using Our Power of Reason

This marks the completion of my first film in 2010, and it is henceforth labeled as “Zimmerscope #90,” as it is the 90th film I’ve made. I exclude “home videos” from this list; you know, like Owen’s birthday parties and stuff like that. I also exclude films I’ve done for other people, such as filming wedding receptions.

Here’s some fun information about that list of 90:

-I’ve made at least one filmlet every year since 1992. The most I made in a single year was 1993, when I made 13 filmlets. The lowest amount made in a single year was one (four-way tie between 1998, 1999, 2006, and – at the moment – 2010).

-The longest filmlet I’ve made is titled Journey Into Souls’ Depth, which  I created in 2002 and is 26 minutes and 48 seconds long. The shortest filmlet, made in 2008, is RIGHT HERE.

-The only filmlet I created in which no one else helped at all was a music video to CCR’s “Travelin’ Band,” which I made in 1995.

-Conversely, there are 48 people listed in the credits for James D.  Zimmerman Day (made in 2001).

-39 people have participated in the creation of at least 2 of these films (that includes me).

-Besides me and my wife, the people to have appeared (or helped behind the camera) in the most films are: Tim Galdunick (15 films), my sister (16 films), Andy Kimball (17 films), and Ryan Sutter (25 films). Owen is quickly making headway to break into this exclusive list.

18 June 2010

With my wife and son off visiting family, I had some time to myself today. Determined to make the most of it, I am pleased to say I accomplished several little things this evening.

First: ran an errand on the way home. Then I looked around at Borders for a few minutes, wherein I absolutely fell in love with this book. At $29.95, though, I didn’t want to set a new record for highest price paid for a book, so I left without it. But I shall return with a coupon one day! Then: went home and worked on the cradle for a little bit more. Man, it was hot in the garage. Then I went to the workout room and ran a mile. Back in the apartment: I did some cleaning (for company on Sunday) and worked on videos for about 4 hours. While the files of the video were rendering (something that often takes one to five minutes), I pulled out a book and read.

All in all, a rather productive 4:00-9:00.

19 June 2010

I’ve gotta comment on the weather. Yeah, I know it’s a lame topic, but stick with me here.

In the last several weeks, nearly every day has been rainy or too hot. But not so May 16th, which fortuitously was the day of Owen’s birthday party. I was very pleased at what beautiful weather there was that day, as his party was an outdoor one, and I would’ve felt bad if we would’ve had to have brought it indoors.

But today, again was a great day. And this time, too, it worked out great because there was a graduation party for him and his classmates. One of his classmate’s parents’ have an RV at an RV park, and they have the corner lot, so, you know, lots of land. We swam in the park’s swimming pool, and Owen played in the blow-up jumping thing, blew bubbles, played with silly string, went to a playground, ate dinner, had cake and smashed a pinata. All outside! What great weather!

And don’t get me wrong, I’m not the type of person who bemoans any cold or rainy or snowy day. In fact, I generally prefer them. It’s just that, sometimes, temperatures in the high 70s/low 80s with a slight breeze and 10-30% cloud cover with low humidity is just what’s needed to celebrate the day.

20 June 2010

Saw Toy Story 3 today. I gotta say, in all honesty, that I just wish Pixar wouldn’t make sequels. It’s such a gimmick. A sequel – in almost every case an after thought – practically begs to be compared to its predecessor. If too much is the same, it fails. If too much is different, it fails.

I rarely go see sequels and, in the cases when I do, I am more than happy to give up the series if part two leaves me unimpressed. For example: I saw Spider-man, but I don’t plan on seeing the rest of that train wreck. I saw the Matrix, and liked it enough to see Matrix: Reloaded, but was so disappointed I never bothered to see Matrix: Revolting, or whatever it’s called.

And here’s a thing about the third installment of a franchise: it’s (almost) never the best one. Here’s some evidence-

Star Trek: Part 2 is best, though you can make a strong argument for parts 4 and 6

Star Wars: Part 2 is best, though you can make a strong argument for part 1

Back to the Future: Part 1 is best

X-Men: Part 1 and 2 are pretty much tied for best

Indiana Jones: Part 1 is best

Karate Kid: Part 1 is best

The Godfather: Part 2 is best, though you can make a strong argument for part 1

Harry Potter: Part 5 is best

The only time I can think of the third part being best is the new Star Wars trilogy (but aren’t those parts 4-6?), and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. But I thought both of those series were so mediocre, that it’s not like part three was so rewarding as that it just didn’t suck as bad. Oh – then there’s James Bond. I know it’s the safe thing to say part three is the best, but I actually prefer the new ones. Oddly enough, I used to work for a company called Part Three. I’m not sure how that’s relevant, but it makes me somewhat of an authority, doesn’t it?

Anyway, I’m gonna go ahead and say Toy Story 3 is better than Part 2…which itself was better than Part 1. Yep. It’s true. I’m a film snob, and I hate Disney, but Pixar made a tremendously satisfying film. Actually, they made two great films, because Day & Night, the short that preceded Toy Story, was likewise wonderful.

Toy Story 3 had several moments of great humor, adventure (don’t arrive late!) and, my lord!, such pathos! You really can’t leave the theater without being moved (both emotionally and physically -ha!). And here’s the great thing about Pixar: there comes a point in every movie where I think to myself “Ah…I see how they’re gonna wrap this up.” But with Pixar, they outdo my expectations. The final moments (unlike last year’s disappointing final third in Up) were so touching, so satisfying. A great denouement for a great trilogy. Good job, Pixar! Just, please, don’t make a part four.

Here, for the first time ever, I will rank the Pixar feature films:

WALL•E

Toy Story 3

Monsters, Inc.

Toy Story 2

The Incredibles

A Bug’s Life

Finding Nemo

Ratatouille

Up

Toy Story

Cars

15 June 2010

Today we attended the child birth class again. At one point, one of the instructors held up a graph. It had the typical X and Y axes, and it had a linearly rising line. She said the name of the graph, which I promptly forgot, but explained that it’s a plotting of how most in the medical community like to see labor progress; essentially, 1 centimeter of dialation per hour. She explained that if a laboring woman is not progressing this fast, they might send her back home (at best) or start in with the interventions (at worst) because, you know, something’s not normal.

As much as I like graphs , I was pleased when the instructor said that, while the graph’s creators had good intentions, it’s pretty much worthless. She went on to explain how laboring, instead of following a linear development, is more like traveling a labyrinth. Sometimes, you think you’re getting close, but you’re not. Sometimes, you’re surprised at the progress you’re making.  Jennifer said that this made sense, because she went from 3 to 10 centimeters in 2 and a half hours, and the hospital staff treated her as if something was going wrong.  Instead, though, Jennifer was just taking her own unique route to the goal.

I can’t really say I didn’t know this before, but it was nice to have it so clearly spelled out, especially by someone in the know. It kind of reminds me of when I read chapter 4 of Film and Art, or chapter one of A People’s History of the United States. Yes, I know those are odd examples, but those are two of my favorite books, and, in both cases, I found myself nodding along with the words, thinking “yes, I intuitively knew this to be true, thanks so much for laying it out so plainly.”

16 June 2010

Today we recieved, via US mail, the title for our car. I opened it up, stared at it half-mindedly for about a second, then carried it into our bedroom to put in our file cabinet. As I stared at it, though, I saw my name. My whole name.

Of course, I’ve seen my whole name before. In fact, for a time, I quite liked it. I used it a lot. Especially since I share a first and last name with my Dad, I emphasized my middle name to distinguish myself from him.

But that’s the thing: no part of my name is uniquely mine. My first name is from my Dad, my middle name is from my maternal grandfather, and my last name is from my Dad’s Dad (and so on ad infinitum).  For many years – decades even – this didn’t bother me too much. Yeah, I got my Dad’s mail often; and people frequently remarked that it didn’t seem “right” that I – the young kid – went by the authoritative sounding “James,” whilst my older father went with the playful sounding “Jim.” But all in all, I liked being named after my Dad.

And I still do. I mean, he’s a great guy. I have loads of great memories of doing fun things with him. He sat in my room for hours playing Solarquest with me. Even as an adult, he’s been a good friend – he helped Jennifer and me with vaious problems with our homes and cars, even letting me borrow his car for 5 months once so I could get to college and back. I always admired him for his positive attitude and his ability to be assertive without being a jerk (I can’t seem to strike that balance). The only time anyone has a lgitimate gripe against him, it isn’t a big deal. I mean, yeah, my mom was right: if my Dad went off to run a quick errand, it inexplicably took him two hours, primarily because he bumped into a friend and they ended up chatting for 20 minutes, and then he got distracted by a cool new store adjacent to the one he was supposed to go to. But, come on, that’s hardly a major character flaw. Even as a Witness, my Dad has this nagging feeling that he should be shunning me (’cause his religion tells him to), but he lets his conscience trump those lame rules.

But then there’s my grandfather. For years I ingnored the tales of the abuse he handed out to my mom and her siblings. I rationalized by saying: “Oh well, he’s a changed man, now.” and “I think he feels bad for the way he raised his kids.” And, you know, he probably does. As the other side of family seemed a little to fond of pointing out: all his kids are messed up because of their father.

For some odd reason, when I was born, my mom decided to honor the man who had been such a strict, ridiculous, and abusive father. She took his first name as my middle name. And, for a long time, I liked that middle name. After all, my grandfather was nice to me. When I’d hear tales of his former self, I figured we all made mistakes, but that god had forgiven him, and so should I.

Last summer, my grandma was in the hospital, having suffered a heartattack. I called to check on her, and she and I  had a pleasant conversation. I told her I would come visit her soon, and she said that was fine. That afternoon, I made plans with my mom to go visit grandma that evening. But my mom called back about an hour later, telling me that my grandfather, when asked if it’d be alright if I come visit, replied: “Absolutely not.” He didn’t want me in his house, see, ’cause I’m not a member of his religion.

This was like  a lightbulb in my brain: Of course he wouldn’t want anyone in his company that doesn’t subscribe to the Watchtower Society! Because that means I don’t follow the same corporation that has given him an excuse for his power over the years. I’m not gonna get into that right now, but, needless to say, I pretty much dumped my middle name after that. Jennifer and I spent one evening looking through possible alternative middle names, and I even printed off the government forms for changing my name.  Turns out, it’s a big hassle, and it’s expensive.

Will I change my middle name one day? I hope to. I see no reason to carry on the name of a child abuser who shuns his grandchildren. Besides, there are other people who are also named after him, and they can carry on his name if they think he’s so awesome.

One thing’s for sure: no child of mine will ever have the first or middle name Daniel.

17 June 2010

I stopped at the library the other day, and, like a sucker, I went over to the shelf of books-for-sale. I thumbed through them real quick, and spotted Jonathan Safran Foer’s Everything is Illuminated. More importantly, it was on audio cassette. This is good, because I love listening to books in the car, but I only have a cassetter player, and there’s a serious derth of books on cassette these days, unless I want to learn Hmong or learn how to be an empowered manager. So I paid the 50 cents and bought the book-on-tape.

A few years back, I read Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, which is probably one of the ten best novels I’ve ever read. So I have high hopes for this new book I’ve acquired. I began listening to it the very next morning, and at first I liked it. But yesterday, it shifted scenes to a time, about 200 years earlier, when an overturned wagon in a river causes a big uproar in a little Polish community. I couldn’t follow it at all. All the characters (and there’s about 20 introduced in the span of 10 minutes) have similar, difficult-to-understand Hebrew names, and the narrative is laced with Jewish terms I don’t understand.

As an aside: I hate when authors do that. See, I speak English, and so I read English books. If an author suddenly lapses into French, Spanish, Latin, or Hebrew, I don’t know what’s going on. Is it to make the author seem intelligent? Of is it to make me pull out a translation dictionary and get me to laboriously decipher the text? Who knows? Who cares?

Anyway, today I tried listening to it some more, but I had the windows rolled down (my car lacks air conditioning) and so it was too loud to hear the tape.

I’ll try again tomorrow. My plan is to rewind the tape to the start of this scene, and try to pay more attention this time.

12 June 2010

Got a lot done today, which is funny, because today marks the first day this month that we had nothing written on the calendar.

Jennifer spent a good chunk of the day reorganizing Owen’s room. That boy has a lot of stuff. I repotted some of the plants we bought at the farmer’s market yesterday: cilantro, basil, and some random flower. It was raining, but our deck is covered, so it was kind of fun to be out in the rain without having the rain actually get me wet. Owen “helped.”

I dropped two Netlflix DVDs in the mail today: Inspector Gadget and Holy Smoke. They wee both really lousy. Holy Smoke, I think, qualifies as the worst Kate Winslet movie I’ve ever seen and Inspector Gadget was just plain dumb.

13 June 2010

Today we ventured down to the sleepy hamlet of Kilkenny. My sister and her husband live there and out on their property they have a pet cemetery. We buried our cat Oliver there nearly a year ago and today, finally, we set a stone at his gravesite. We also brought along a packet of wildflower seeds. According to the packet, they’re a hardly lot of flowers and are perfectly comfortable in a xeriscape environment. Which is good, ’cause, you know, I’m not gonna drive down to Kilkenny every other day to water the things.

Anyway, the hope is, the flowers will grow and our late decomposing cat will become fertilizer for the plants. Last year, the day he died, Jennifer helped make a list of ten good things about Oliver, inspired by the book The Tenth Good Thing About Barney. The tenth item on our list (and on the list from which is was inspired) is that the cat will help to grow the flowers. So, let’s hope he does. My sister plans to take a photo of the flowers growing around the stone and send it to us, especially if we don’t make it down there later this summer to see them for ourselves.

14 June 2010

So, last night, I pretty much didn’t get any sleep. I mean, I maybe fell asleep for ten to fifteen minute intervals, but that’s all. I kept waking up. I had these really weird dreams – filled with grotesqueness and apocalyptic scenarios. They don’t make any sense, but they don’t make for restful sleep, either.

I think this has to do with the food I eat. Earlier this month, I had some sauerkraut with sausages (while at the casino), Blue Moon beer, and I just in general overate. So I threw it up. Then I hardly got any sleep, though I think part of this was due to lying in a hotel bed.

Yesterday, after leaving my sister’s place, we went out to eat with her and her husband and I got the salad bar. I put some bacon bits on my salad, and there were some large bits of chicken in the wild rice soup. All in all, though, not too much meat. Still, it continued to affect me for the next 16 hours.

So, I’m gonna limit my meat intake even more. As it is, I hardly ever consume red meat (twice only this month – and in the small quantities listed above), but I should just not have it at all. Birds seem okay, but I should probably have even less. I’ll just limit my meat to fish, I think.

Also today: after a week-long delay, Owen’s toy bear Hop-hop has finally come home again, thanks to the good folks at UPS. It was a grand reunion.

Finally: For the second time in as many work days, a co-worker sent me THIS VIDEO. It’s funny. Watch it. It’s certainly waaay better than those two piles of crap I listed above.