How to win your wife's weight in beer!

Actually, she doesn't have to be your wife, or anyone's wife really, but she does need to be older than 18. And you do need to carry her - through an obstacle course - and you need to win.

Wife carrying is a contest in which male competitors race while each carrying a female teammate. The objective is for the male to carry the female through a special obstacle track in the fastest time. The sport was first introduced at Sonkajärvi, Finland.

Several types of carry may be practised: piggyback, fireman's carry (over the shoulder), or Estonian-style (the wife hangs upside-down with her legs around the husband's shoulders, holding onto his waist).

Wife Carrying World Championships are held annually in Sonkajärvi since 1992.

The prize is one's wife's weight in beer (via).

Rules:

The original course was a rough, rocky terrain with fences and brooks, but it has been altered to suit modern conditions. There is now sand instead of full rocks, fences, and some kind of area filled with water (a pool). These are the following rules set by the International Wife Carrying Competition Rules Committee:

• The length of the official track is 253.5 meters.
• The track has two dry obstacles and a water obstacle about one meter deep.
• The wife to be carried may be your own, or the neighbor's, or you may have found her further afield; she must, however, be over 17 years of age.
• The minimum weight of the wife to be carried is 49 kilograms. If she weighs less than 49 kg, she will be burdened with a rucksack containing additional weight to bring the total load to be carried up to 49 kg.
• All participants must enjoy themselves.
• The only equipment allowed is a belt worn by the carrier and a helmet worn by the carried.
• The contestants run the race two at a time, so each heat is a contest in itself.
• Each contestant takes care of his/her safety and, if deemed necessary, insurance.
• The contestants have to pay attention to the instructions given by the organizers of the competition.
• There is only one category in the World Championships, and the winner is the couple who completes the course in the shortest time.
• Also, the most entertaining couple, the best costume, and the strongest carrier will be awarded a special prize.

World Champions (and the Finns have it!!! Mostly.):

• 2017 – Taisto Miettinen (Finland) and Kristiina Haapanen (Finland), 68 seconds.
• 2016 – Dimitriy Sagal (Russia) and Anastasia Loginova (Russia).
• 2015 – Ville Parviainen (Finland) and Sari Viljanen (Finland).
• 2014 – Ville Parviainen (Finland) and Janette Oksman (Finland).
• 2013 – Taisto Miettinen (Finland) and Kristiina Haapanen (Finland).[5]
• 2012 – Taisto Miettinen (Finland) and Kristiina Haapanen (Finland).
• 2011 – Taisto Miettinen (Finland) and Kristiina Haapanen (Finland).[6]
• 2010 – Taisto Miettinen (Finland) and Kristiina Haapanen (Finland).[7]
• 2009 – Taisto Miettinen (Finland) and Kristiina Haapanen (Finland).[7]
• 2008 – Alar Voogla (Estonia) and Kirsti Viltrop (Estonia).[8]
• 2007 – Madis Uusorg (Estonia) and Inga Klauso (Estonia), 61.7 seconds.[9]
• 2006 – Margo Uusorg (Estonia) and Sandra Kullas (Estonia), 56.9 seconds.[10]
• 2005 – Margo Uusorg (Estonia) and Egle Soll (Estonia), 59 seconds.[11]
• 2004 – Madis Uusorg (Estonia) and Inga Klauso (Estonia), 65.3 seconds.[12]
• 2003 – Margo Uusorg (Estonia) and Egle Soll (Estonia), 60.7 seconds.[13]
• 2002 – Meelis Tammre (Estonia) and Anne Zillberberg (Estonia), 63.8 seconds.
• 2001 – Margo Uusorg (Estonia) and Birgit Ullrich (Estonia), 55.6 seconds.[14]
• 2000 – Margo Uusorg (Estonia) and Birgit Ullrich (Estonia),[15] 55.5 seconds (world record).
• 1999 – Imre Ambos (Estonia) and Annela Ojaste (Estonia), 64.5 seconds.
• 1998 – Imre Ambos (Estonia) and Annela Ojaste (Estonia), 69.2 seconds.[16]
• 1997 – Mikkel Christensen (Finland) and Tiina Jussila (Finland), 65 seconds.[17]

 

Where to Participate:

-Australia-

Australian Wife Carrying Championships are held annually since 2005.

• 2016 - Australian Champions: Adrian and Amanda Betts
• 2013 - South Bank, Brisbane[18]
• 2008 - in Singleton, NSW[19]
• 2007 - Australian Champions: Anthony Partridge and Angela Moore[19]

-North American-

The North American Wife Carrying Championships take place every year on Columbus Day Weekend in October at Sunday River Ski Resort in Newry, Maine.

-United States-

The US final takes place the second weekend of July in Menahga Minnesota (MN-St. Urho Wife Carry for Charity Challenge). Major wife-carrying competitions are also held in Monona, Wisconsin, Minocqua, Wisconsin and Marquette, Michigan.

-Asia-

Ecorun India, a society for creating environmental awareness organized Wife Carrying Race in Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala, India, Asia on January 1, 2011. The event is called "BHAARYAASAMETHAM" roughly translated as 'with your wife' in Malayalam, the local language. The society plans on conducting more such events every year in India. Wife carrying in Asia is also called matukinina.

A Bollywood movie named Dum Laga Ke Haisha had "wife carrying race" in its backdrop (via).

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Air Guitar World Championships 

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Father/Daugher Beatbox Battle

This is friggin awesome.

I especially love how when the father is beatboxing, his daughter is sitting there, flipping her hair, looking all casual and cool. Almost as if she's rolling her eyes and saying, "Come on dad."

Then, when she takes off, her dad laughs, claps, and cannot contain his joy, like he's about to jump up and yell, "That's my girl!"

I love it.

A few years ago, I was speaking with one of my female students about some of the trips I had planned for Judah and I. I had just read the book, Raising A Modern-Day Knight and couldn't wait to start his training. She thought my ideas were great, but she also challenged me, "Don't forget about your daughters. Take them on trips too."

And she was right. 

I don't know who started this battle, but I love that they do it together. And that she's better. And that he loves that she's better. 

And I love the end, when they battle together, as father and daughter. 

This guy is inspiring. 

You can watch Battle Part 2 here.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Lessons on Fatherhood  :  On Raising Girls :  The best beatboxer ever

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Ben Folds : Because 10 minutes isn't enough

This is pretty damn cool, and fully impressive. 

I've never been a huge fan of Ben Folds lyrically, but musically, he has always dazzled and entertained. Always, my favorite song of his has been Luckiest.

Fortunately, the lyrics are also pretty friggen great:

I don't get many things right the first time,
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns the stumbles,
And falls brought me here
And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face,
Now I see it every day
And I know

That I am, I am, I am, the luckiest

What if I had been born fifty years before you
In a house on the street
Where you lived
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike. Would I know?
And in a wide sea of eyes
I see one pair that I recognize

And I know

That I am, I am, I am, the luckiest

I love you more then have
Ever found the way to say
To you

Next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties and one day
Passed away in his sleep,
And his wife, she stayed for a couple of days, and passed away

I'm sorry I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong,

That I know

That I am, I am, I am, the luckiest

Simple. Beautiful. I can almost see him sitting on his porch, pondering, "What if?" Then, a little girl pedals by, and as he watches her zig-zag up the street, his eyes fall on the neighbors house, his pen quickly getting to work. Because she isn't home then, but she will be soon. And when she arrives, Ben is sitting at the piano, his fingers dancing over the keys and his mind floating. When he hears her, he looks up, his hands suspended above the keys, and he looks, in awesome wonder.

In that moment, as we have all found ourselves from time to time, he understands that he is fully and truly fortunate. That he is the luckiest. 

May we all be so fortunate, so aware, and so willing to take the time to write it down.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Music  :  Another great composer  :  Farmhouse, from a note

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Summer Homework for Teachers

Contrary to popular belief, summertime, for teachers - good teachers - is not a time for lounging by the pool, taking long vacations, and spending entirely too much time watching Netflix. That's what Christmas break is for. Summertime, however, is the allotted, much needed, time of evaluation and preparation without the interruptions of meetings, students, and grading. 

Because a good teacher is willing to take a step back and reflect, and there’s no better time than during the summer.

I recently came across an article entitled, Fifteen Summer Assignments for Teachers and thought it had some decent ideas. "Try one, two, or a few of these," the article asks, "and see if they get you thinking about your profession—one of the most honorable around." 

So I am, and I'm inviting you to join me.

1. Write alternating paragraphs about the best and worst teachers you had as a student. Then, identify when and why you’ve shared any qualities with them during your time in the classroom.

2. Write a two-sentence description of your class from the perspective of a student sitting front and center. Then write descriptions of the same length from the following perspectives: the student who dropped your course, the student who asked you for a recommendation letter, the student who wouldn’t stop talking. How do they each perceive you?

3. Describe the most fantastical, surreal fire drill evacuation possible. The only rule is that it must occur in the midst of one of your major assessments.

4. Why do you teach? Why don’t you do something else?

5. What is one stereotype about teachers that is a lie? What is one stereotype that is absolutely accurate?

6. Read a few pages of Gertrude Stein, and then a few poems by Gerard Manley Hopkins, and then a few pages of Toni Morrison. Explain what each writer is trying to do (with their language, their content, their style). Don’t say whether you like it or not; just try to understand.

7. Vent about one of your worst days during the past year. Fold it up, hide it, and forget about it.

8. Write a letter to the person who you identified as your worst teacher above. Give them the benefit of the doubt.

8a. Write a letter to a teacher or person who has inspired you the most in your teaching, then give it to them. Then, identify where you share those same qualities. 

9. One of your most wonderful, compassionate students tells you that she wants to be a teacher. What do you say? What do you think?

10. Read an issue of a contemporary literary magazine. Try New England Review, Image, The Kenyon Review, Colorado Review, Salamander, West Branch, or others. Visit the current issue of an online publication like Booth, The Collagist, or Linebreak. Find work there to share with your students. I recommend Traci Brimhall, Kaveh Akbar, Saeed Jones, Erica Wright, Eduardo C. Corral, Morgan Parker, Rebecca Gayle Howell, Marcus Wicker, Tyler Mills, Adrian Matejka, Rigoberto González—find a writer who speaks to you, and who might speak to the lives of your students.

11. What is a book that you teach that your students hate? Why do they hate it? Be objective: are they correct? If not, what can you do to better teach the book—to better reveal why you think the book is important?

12. Write a letter to a student you’ve failed—not in terms of a grade, but as a mentor.

13. Write a dialogue scene between one of the writers whose work you teach and your students. Don’t have them talk about the writer’s book or writing style. Imagine how they would communicate in everyday life. Let them be people together.

14. List three times that you’ve experienced joy as a teacher. Be specific about the setting, the situation, the people involved. What can you do to capture that feeling again?

15. Praise yourself. Write a paragraph about what you do best as a teacher. After that, enjoy the rest of your summer. You’ve earned it.

Some of these are perhaps a waste of time, some are invaluable. But what's interesting is the emotion felt while reading them because, like my students, some fill me with dread. "That's stupid," I think and therefore cross it off the list. But that is probably why I should do them all, to remind myself what my students think, at various times throughout the year, about my assignments. And reminding myself what it feels like to be a student just might be what is best not only for me, but more importantly, for my students. 

Let me know if you have any more ideas to add to the list!

And yes, although it isn't written directly, writing in complete sentences is probably required. So is grammar. You can relax on the MLA formatting though, because it's summer, and you deserve a break.

For more on . . .

Don't do homework. Publish.  :  Why I Teach  :  Schools Kill Creativity?  :  Teachers like Mr. Keating

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Check it - a documentary from Louis C.K.

Check It is a truly powerful documentary about the singular gang of gay black teens who warded off their vulnerability by becoming a protective family of their own while living on the streets of Washington, D.C. The film was directed by Toby Oppenheimer and Dana Flor with Steve Buscemi serving as executive producer. While wrapping up the excellent online series Horace and Pete, Buscemi invited co-star Louis C.K.to a screening of the film. The comedian was so impressed that he’s made the film available for purchase on his site (via).

The film knocked me right over. It was an amazing emotional ride. It was funny and moving, I learned a lot and it gave me a lot to think about after. …It’s not an easy film. It takes on life right where the rubber hits the road. What made me love it was just the kids themselves. They are like any kids, like anyone’s children. They are trying to cope against terrible odds, they are funny and full of hope and life. Their lives are difficult and complex.

The LBGTQ is, for sure, not my enemy, but they are unknown. Admittedly, I don't have many friends from this community, but I do have a few, and what I've discovered isn't all that surprising: we're more alike than we are different. 

However, and sadly, many would consider the LBGTQ community enemies, and because so, this sort of film would stir emotions of anger and frustration and possibly even an affirmation of some already held prejudices. To that, all I can say is the LBGTQ is not a single story, and they deserve, like anybody else, to be known. Even if they're not agreed with.

For a detailed history on "one of American history's darker moments," the Stonewall Riots, where the gay rights movement was galvanized in the United States, check out this episode on Stuff You Should Know.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  Listening to the Stories of others  :  How the Rainbow Flag Became a Symbol of LGBTQ Pride

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Get to know your enemy

"The universe provides everything you need when you need it" (via). I'm not sure I know, exactly, what this means or if I even agree with it, but there does seem to be an element of it that is undeniable because, sometimes, things just sort of come together and the universe (whatever that means) seems to be helping out. 

Josey and I first watched Band of Brothers over Christmas break of 2012 and have watched it a couple times since. From the very beginning, this scene, more than any other, stuck out to me, and I never really understood why. In recent months, the "universe" has helped provide some clarity.

Don Malarkey meets the German PW from Oregon and discovers an unknown story of the Germans: they are not always the monsters he and others have believed them to be. In fact, in some cases, they are more like comrades than they are enemies. 

Malarkey also learns that, in some cases, his own countrymen are a bit more like monsters than they are comrades. 

More and more, this difficult truth has almost forced itself upon me, and it doesn't seem to be letting up. Because there are some people in my life that I'd rather reduce to monsters and nothing more. Because it makes it easier. Because it creates a distance. Like that of German and US soldiers. 

Then, this morning, while I walked the forty-minute square that surrounds my in-laws rural neighborhood, I listened to this story of a "ten-year-old girl from small town Michigan named Sarah York, and how she became pen pals with a man who was considered an enemy of the United States, a dictator, a drug trafficker, and a murderer: Manuel Noriega."

You may not have time to listen to above excerpt. Here's a simple rundown: Sarah York, through several months of writing small letters back and forth with Manuel Noriega, finds herself invited to Panama and touring the cities, landscape, and playing with Noriega's own daughter.  At one point, Sarah is caught in the crashing waves and it is Manuel Noriega who rescues her. Sarah's mother has a picture of the moment and shows them to the producer,  Andrea Morningstar. After seeing the photo, Andrea states, "He doesn't look like a ruthless dictator, or a drug kingpin. He just looks like someone's dad" (min. 30:10). 

From the little that I know, Manuel Noriega was a terrible man and responsible for hundreds of deaths and disappearances, but he was also a loving father, which, for me at least, is a bit difficult to swallow because, how can a monster not be anything other than a monster? 

How can he be anything like me?

But, the truth of it is this, they are like me, just as much as I am like them. And even if they aren't, it is becoming increasingly clear that I need to think of them that way. 

There aren't many monsters in my everyday life. There are just the few that public opinion and media like to point out and dissect. But there are a few that I consider monsters. They're the ones I can't imagine eating dinner with, visiting while driving through town, or making any time or concession for. They're the ones whom I have a difficult time seeing any redeeming qualities. All they do seems to have selfish motives, and all that they are seems ugly and destructive. They no longer look like possible mothers, fathers, or humans. I've reduced them to monsters, plain and simple. 

And that's where I'm at right now. No conclusions, no wrap ups, and for sure no stories of beautiful reconciliation. In some cases, I've even lost the hope that there is a hope it may happen.

But over the past few weeks, with a culmination in this mornings walk, I've begun to consider that maybe they aren't monsters. Or rather, if perhaps they are more than simply monsters, and that we might have more in common than I have otherwise thought. That they are fully fallible, like me, and have made some pretty f'd up decisions, just like me. And, like me, they still are not monsters.

I just need to stop marching, reloading, and waiting for the attack. Which, for me, is super friggen hard. Because I'm terrified it might happen, again. And I'm tired, real friggen tired of being hurt. 

Yet, where we're headed now is, at best, in opposite directions. At worse, to another battlefront. 

Unlike Malarkey. 

What serving 40,000 people each day looks like

Now that is crazy.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Great Big Stories  :  People Eating Together

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Mister Rogers and the Power of Persuasion

There isn't much to add to this because it's pretty spot-on. My only even minor critique would be that if our only goal is to win someone to our side, than all the gimmicks we employ to trick someone into thinking we are on their side, that we are listening, and that we care what they are saying, that we are just as selfish someone who is simply trying to win an argument. We're just not as brash about it.

However, I don't think that is the point of this video, especially when Fred Rogers is used as the example, but I still think it needs to be said - for me at least. 

A true and meaningful discussion points towards a higher and greater truth; it means both are willing to refine and tweak their own thinking, for the sake of a greater cause. 

But I think the point in all of the above is this: in order to be heard, we have to be relational - fully and completely. Dogmatism beats the elephant; sincere persuasion gives it goosebumps. 

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Diversity Makes Us Smarter  :  Elements of a good Discussion  :  Mr. Rogers' Sweaters

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

The Story of Soundtracks

Film without soundtracks are boring, and the art of creating a story in sound, a story that not only enhances the movie but takes over the mind of a listener, is an art that stands alone.

Ramin Djawadi, a talented musician most known for composing the music for Game of Thronesparticularly the iconic theme, shared his thoughts around how he scores a soundtrack for such a varied series. Djawadi, who started playing music at a very young age, explained how he was attune to the need for musical themes, but wanted to introduce them in such a way as to not overwhelm the audience (via).

The biggest challenge was just finding the right tone for the show, that when you hear the score, that you know this is Game of Thrones. From the beginning, we knew we wanted themes, but we also knew that we couldn’t have too many themes right away, because there’s obviously a lot of characters. There’s a lot of different houses, there’s a lot of plots. And if you convolute it too soon, I think it actually would have been confusing for the audience.

One of the greatest, Hans Zimmer, 

Some of my favorite soundtracks include, but are not limited to:

The Dark Knight, Rudy, Transformers, Rush, About Time, The King's Speech, Band of Brothers, How to Train Your Dragon (Forbidden Friendship might be one of the best songs, ever), Legends of the Fall, Dances with Wolves, Memoirs of a Geisha, Saving Privet Ryan, Last of the Mohicans, and Finding Neverland - just to name a few.

There is also some great soundtrack stations on youtube that are inspiring, calming, epic, and simply beautiful. 

If you have some favorites, list them below!  I'd love to add them to the collection.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Movies Without Soundtracks  :  Music

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Rakka, by Neill Blomkamp

Filmmaker Neill Blomkamp (District 9, Chappie) is planning on making a series of experimental short films as proofs-of-concept for possible feature film development. His first short has just been released through Oats Studios; it’s called Rakka, stars Sigourney Weaver, and is kind of a cross between District 9 and Edge of Tomorrow (via).

These futuristic/alien takeover sort of movies, for me, are always a hit or miss. What I do like about them though, and this one seems to be of a similar cut, is that they bring humanity to the edge of extinction and then ask, "What does it mean to be human?" 

If we survive, but at the sacrifice of morals, of humanity, is life worth living?

The Walking Dead asks the same question. So does Ivan Denisovich. Because conflict - true and meaningful conflict - reveals truth. Truth about ourselves, and truth about our world. 

I'm intrigued by Amir and what part he will play. How will his fractured humanity impact the world? Will it win? Or will it succumb?

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Short Films  :  Humanity

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

When the death of thousands isn't enough

"In 1846, large numbers of women and babies were dying during childbirth in Vienna. The cause of death was puerperal fever, a disease that swells then kills its victims. Vienna's General hospital had two maternity clinics. Mothers and newborns were dying in only one of them. Pregnant women waited outside the hospital, begging not to be taken to the deadly clinic, often giving birth in the streets if they were refused. More women and babies survived labor in the streets than in the {deadly} clinic. All the deaths came at the hands of doctors. In the other clinic, midwives delivered the babies" (pg 72, bolding mine).

This, an excerpt from the book How to Fly a Horse, by Kevin Ashton. Earlier in the book, Ashton writes, "Thinking is finding a way to achieve a goal that cannot be attained by an obvious action," and which is now underlined, along with a few other quotes on several other pages. Ashton is writing this book in hopes of squashing the belief that creation, invention, and discovery are only set aside for a select few, and that that happen in a moment of intense inspiration. "Creation," he writes, "is a destination, the consequences of acts that appear inconsequential by themselves but that, when accumulated, change the world. Creating is an ordinary act, creation its extraordinary outcome" (pg 23), and it can be done by anyone, not just the elite or the ultra brilliant because, "Everyone is born creative; everyone is given a box of crayons in kindergarten. Being suddenly hit year later with the 'creative bug' is just a wee voice telling you, 'I'd like my crayons back, please'" (pg 18).

Is this why doctors - not midwives, were responsible for the deaths of hundreds of mothers and newborns in the 1800's Vienna? Because they considered themselves the elite and professional and no longer in need of curiosity? Innovation? And discovery? 

Maybe. 

Ashton continues. "Vienna General was a teaching hospital where doctors learned their trade by cutting up cadavers. They often delivered babies after dissecting corpses. One of the doctors, a Hungarian named Ignaz Semmelweis, started to wonder if the puerperal fever was somehow being carried from the corpses to the women in labor. Most of his peers thought the question preposterous. Carl Edvard Marius Levy, a Danish obstetrician, for instance, wrote that Semmelweis's 'beliefs are too unclear, his observation too volatile, his experiences too uncertain, for the deduction of scientific results.' Levy was offended by the lack of theory behind Semmelweis's work. Semmelweis speculated that some kind of organic matter was being transferred from the morgue to the mothers, but he did not know what it was. Levi said this made the whole idea unsatisfactory from a "scientific point of view." 

"But, from a clinical point of view, Semmelweis had convincing data to support his hypothesis. At a time when doctors did not scrub in or out of the operating room, and were so proud of the blood on their gowns that they let it build up throughout their careers, Semmelweis persuaded the doctors of Vienna to wash their hands before delivering babies, and the results were immediate. In April 1847, 57 women died giving birth in Vienna General's deadly First Clinic - 18 percent of all patients. In the middle of May, Summelweis introduced hand washing. In June, 6 women died, a death rate of 2 percent, the same as the untroubled Second Clinic. The death rate stayed low, and in some months fell to zero. In the following two years, Semmelweis saved the lives of around 500 women, and an unknown number of children."

"This was not enough to overcome the skepticism. Charles Delucena Meigs, and American obstetrician, typified the outrage. He told his students that a doctor's hands could not possibly carry disease because doctors are gentlemen and 'gentlemen's hands are clean'" (pg 73).

Which also means, ironically, that the most deadly clinic was probably made up of all men, while the second clinic, the safer and more reliable one, was filled with older women - midwives - who relied on the practical experience they received in delivering many children. Women who weren't so concerned about the blood on their gowns as they were about the babies being born and the mothers who carried them. 

"Semmelweis did not know why hand-washing before delivery saved lives- he only knew that it did. And if you do not know why something saves lives, why do it? For Levy, Meigs, and Semmelweis's other 'gentlemen' contemporaries, preventing the deaths of thousands of women and their babies was not reason enough" (pg 73).

If this is a gentleman, I hope to never be confused as one again. Sheesh.

"As the medical community rejected Semmelweis's ideas, his moral and behavior declined. He had been a rising star at the hospital until he proposed hand-washing. After a few years, he lost his job and started showing signs of mental illness. He was lured to a lunatic asylum, put into a straightjacket, and beaten. He died two weeks later. Few attended his funeral. Without Semmelweis's supervision, the doctors at Vienna General Hospital stopped washing their hands. The death rate for women and babies at the maternity clinic rose by 600 percent."

What a tragic ending and lack of recognition to a man who saved thousands of lives. 

Why did so few attend his funeral? Why did so few listen to his advice? And why was the practice of washing hands so difficult to embrace?

"Because," Ashton write, "When you bring something truly new to the world, brace. Having an impact is not usually a pleasant experience. Sometimes the hardest part of creating is not having an idea but saving an idea, ideally while also saving yourself."

This tragic truth seems to affirm itself throughout history, and the root cause of it all seems to be pride.

Ashton concludes this section with this. "William Syrotuck analyzed 229 cases of people who became lost, 25 of who died. He found that when we are lost, most of us act the same way. First, we deny that we are going in the wrong direction. Then, as the realization that we are in trouble seeps in, we press on, hoping chance will lead us. We are less likely to do the thing that is most likely to save us: turn around. We know our path is wrong, yet we rush along it, compelled to save face, to resolve the ambiguity, to achieve the goal. Pride propels us. Shame stops us from saving ourselves" (pg 90). 

I can imagine that, for those doctors, to start washing hands - and to commit to it - would be to admit fault, that those deaths were in fact their fault. And I can also imagine that that truth would be drastically hard to swallow. So they pressed on, hoping chance would free them from guilt. 

To turn around - to repent - means to admit fault and to acknowledge that, somewhere along the way, we made the wrong turn. Every wanna-be hero is brought to this point. The hero hits the breaks and turns the wheel; the tragic hero continues on, propelled by pride, as hundreds of women and children needlessly pass away. 

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  The DR Who Championed Hand-washing  :  Humilitas  :  Hero's Journey

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Grit : What our kids need to succeed

I've always struggled with the concept of success because it seems to carry the idea of money and fame. I've argued, on more than one occasion, that being successful doesn't necessarily mean money, but rather, the accomplishment of something. Yet, in a recent conversation with my little sister I found myself saying, and believing, that I haven't found success in a few of my endeavors because no one is willing to pay for them, because I'm doing them on my own time, for free. Success, apparently, is marked by the dollar sign, because, whether I like it or not, we put our money where our mouth is.

Like many of my friends I've talked with over the years, the idea of obtaining this kind of success, the kind that reaches beyond personal gratification and lives in the land of compensation, seems to dependent upon skills and talents, time and resources, and the many other factors that we don't seem to have. Which is why we haven't found success, and perhaps never will. 

Recently, though, I've been encouraged by a different notion, that talents and time and resources can aid in the acquisition of success, but they are not the greatest determiner. More than any of these, passion and perseverance (earnestness even) and the relentless pursuit of one's commitments is what determines success. 

Angela Duckworth calls this "grit."

Angela Duckworth is smarter than me, and for sure much more successful, but I'm not quit sure I believe her conclusion of "we don't know," because I think we do know, and I think it has to deal with the very idea she is presenting - grit. We teach our kids grit. 

As a child, I remember - often - working with my dad on tasks and projects I didn't really care to be a part of. Things like, chopping wood all Saturday, shoveling the the long driveway, raking leaves, and various other tasks. When I complained or argued, my father made me do them anyway. Before playing with friends or watching t.v.. I remember being so frustrated and angry because all I wanted to do was be with my friends, not working. I also remember, even though I would never admit it to him and only barely admitted to myself, that when the job was completed, I would look at what I had done and feel a sense of accomplishment and be proud of what I had done. 

Looking back, it was during these times that the seeds to success were being planted.

As parents, as educators, we can teach our kids grit by providing opportunities for them to struggle, sweat, and endure through difficult tasks. Tasks like overcoming difficult hikes, persevering through piano or guitar lessons, and even pulling nails from old pallets. They might complain, but if the task has purpose, if they can see that there is a reason for all their hard work, when it is over, when the bench and drawer are built, whether they admit it or not, there will be a sense of accomplishment, because they gritted through.

Duckworth ends her talk without much conclusion, but rather, a charge - to be "gritty about getting our kids grittier." I think we can do this by being purposeful about getting our kids engaged in tasks that demand hardship and difficulty and, most importantly, longevity, but that are also full of purpose. 

For more talks and ideas of Success, you can listen to this TED Radio Hour appropriately entitled, Success. It's a great listen and worth the 50 minutes.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  TED Talks  :  Growth Mindset  :  Creativity in Education

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Paterson : A favorite of the year

I watched this on the flight back to the US and frigging LOVED it. The slow pace, the dichotomous characters, and the simplistic message of life and love. The beauty of small town living. 

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Movies  :  Some (possible) great new movies

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Wendell Berry : On Poetry

How to be a Poet (to remind myself)

By, Wendell Berry

Make a place to sit down.

Sit down. Be quiet.

You must depend upon

affection, reading, knowledge, 

skill - more of each

than you have - inspiration,

work, growing older, patience,

for patience joins time

to eternity. Any readers 

who like your work,

doubt their judgement.

Breathe with unconditional breath

the unconditioned air.

Shun electric wire.

Communicate slowly. Live

a three-dimensioned life;

stay away from screens.

Stay away from anything

that obscures the place it is in.

There are no unsacred places;

there are only sacred places

and desecrated places. 

Accept what comes from silence.

Make the best you can of it.

Of the little words that come

out of the silence, like prayers

prayed back to the one who prays,

make a poem that does not disturb

the silence from which it came. 

From, Given Poems

WENDELL BERRY, writer, poet, teacher, farmer, and outspoken citizen of an endangered world, gives us a compelling vision of the good and true life. Passionate, eloquent, and painfully articulate, in more than fifty works – novels, short stories, poems and essays -- he celebrates a life lived in close communion with neighbors and the earth while addressing many of our most urgent cultural problems. A fierce and caring critic of American culture and a long-time trusted guide for those seeking a better, healthier, saner world, he has farmed a hillside in his native Henry County, Kentucky, together with his wife, for more than forty years. 

Over the years, Berry has received the highest honors including the National Medal of Arts and Humanities, a National Institute of Arts and Letters award for writing, and theAmerican Academy of Arts and Letters Jean Stein Award. Much has been said and written about his work (via).

A documentary on him, his work, and his farm life is coming out this fall. It's entitled "Look & See: A Portrait of Wendell Berry." You can watch the trailer here. 

"As I see," Wendell Berry writes, "the farmer standing in his field, is not isolated as simply a component of a production machine. He stands where lots of lines cross – cultural lines. The traditional farmer, that is the farmer who was first independent, who first fed himself off his farm and then fed other people, who farmed with his family and who passed the land on down to people who knew it and had the best reasons to take care of it... that farmer stood at the convergence of traditional values... our values" (via). 

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Poetry  :  Wendell Berry Literature

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

World's slowest marathon time: 54 years

"To be precise, 54 years, 8 months, 6 days, 5 hours, 32 minutes and 20.3 seconds was how long it took Shiso Kanakuri to finish the race — not that the time, which was only ever recorded as a joke, matters. It’s Kanakuri himself who is important, because when he set off on that infamous run, {a little over} 100 years ago in Stockholm, he was one of just two athletes representing Japan at its very first Olympic Games"

"Sport had not been a particularly popular pastime in early 20th-century Japan. Fledgling clubs catering to various physical activities had popped up at schools and universities, but, as the historian Kazuo Sayama has written, 'there had been martial arts in Japan, but they were very different to the French idea of sport. (In the early 1900s) few Japanese had awoken to sport’s real meaning.'"

"The French reference is crucial, because it was that country’s notion of sport that informed the 1896 revival of the Olympic Games in the modern era. Part of that idea, as promoted by the International Olympic Committee’s inaugural chairman, a Frenchman named Pierre de Coubertin, was that sport was a progenitor of peace, and hence the participation of all the races was to be encouraged."

"After the London Olympics of 1908, Coubertin decided it was time for Asians to join the fray, and so he arranged for a Japanese representative to join the IOC. The man who got the nod was the well-respected judo wrestler Jigoro Kano (later known as the “father of modern judo”), who shortly set about holding athletics trials for the next Olympics, which would be held in Stockholm in 1912."

"The trials for the marathon were held on Nov. 19, 1911, and one of the competitors was a 20-year-old student from the Tokyo Higher Normal School named Shiso Kanakuri (his name is sometimes rendered Shizo Kanaguri). Originally from an area of Kumamoto Prefecture in Kyushu now known as Tamana, his initial approach to running, as reported by Sayama in a biography published last year, was indicative of the lack of experience among his countrymen."

"'There was a belief at the time that perspiration made runners tired,' Sayama explains, before noting that 'Kanakuri’s initial approach was to abstain from any drink at all, at one time making himself sick.'"

"Fortunately, by the time of the trials, Kanakuri had come to appreciate the importance of proper hydration, and he flew around a roughly 25-mile (40.2 km) course in 2 hrs. 32 min. 30 sec., well ahead of his rivals."

"Kanakuri was thus in the team, and he was soon joined by a short-distance specialist named Yahiko Mishima from Tokyo Imperial University (forerunner of the University of Tokyo). With the addition of Kano, as Chef de Mission, and also physical-education specialist Hyozo Omori, as team manager, the party that would travel to Stockholm was complete."

"On May 16, 1912, The Japan Times noted their departure with an article that both lowered and raised expectations: 'As this is the first time Japanese runners (or any Japanese athletes) have taken part in these world-contests, it is impossible to say what they will achieve. But both are full of grit and nerve, and may be counted upon for doing credit to themselves and to Japan.'"

"But lack of experience was not the only thing working against the Japanese runners. There was also the fact of the 10 days to be spent on the Trans-Siberian Railway, when opportunities to train would be at a minimum. "'Kanakuri took to running around each station that they stopped at,' Sayama writes."

"At Stockholm, things didn’t improve. Omori soon fell ill, and so Kanakuri, the youngest in the group, ended up spending more time looking after him than training. (Incidentally, Omori is now known as 'the father of Japanese basketball,' because, in 1908, he brought back that sport from the United States, where he had studied.)"

"The day of the Stockholm marathon, July 14, 1912, was a scorcher. A photograph of the 68 runners at the start line shows them all wearing hats or towels around their heads — a somewhat quaint attempt to deal with the 32-degree heat."

"According to Sayama, Kanakuri later recalled how the other runners had been surprised at his footwear: tabi, the two-toed canvas shoes still worn by some workers on construction sites. Although Kanakuri’s were fortified with extra canvas on their soles, they wouldn’t have afforded much protection."

"Still, they were probably better than spikes, which is what the Japanese media somehow decided Kanakuri had worn as they later tried to explain the disaster that was about to unfold."

"Somewhere around the 27-km mark, Kanakuri collapsed, probably from hyperthermia (in simple terms, extreme overheating). It is believed he briefly lost consciousness before being taken to the house of local residents who assisted him."

"Kanakuri’s withdrawal from the race was hardly unusual. After all, only half the 68 starters ended up finishing the race. What was unusual was that he didn’t notify the event officials. They duly listed him as 'missing.'"

"The Japanese runner was likely too dispirited by his failure to worry about filling in the proper paperwork. Sayama reports that in his diary Kanakuri lamented bringing 'shame' to his countrymen, but at the same time he struck an optimistic note: 'This failure will beget success,' he vowed."

"Although The Japan Times was among the media that blamed Kanakuri’s failure on an erroneous assumption about his footwear, it was nevertheless kind to both him and Mishima (who failed to get through to the finals of his 100-, 200- or 400-meter races)."

"'It will be unfair to deal harshly with these young athletes for their faults,' an unidentified scribe wrote on July 21, 1912. Instead, that same writer dealt harshly with a system that had sent unprepared athletes onto the world stage in the first place."

"Noting that the ultimate winner of the marathon, Kennedy Kane McArthur of South Africa, had spent 2½ years preparing for the race, the writer demands that no more athletes be sent abroad "'except with the most serious determination and all possible preparedness.'"

"Kanakuri seems to have agreed. On his return to Japan, he immediately began preparing for the Berlin Olympics, which were due to be held in 1916. However, World War I put paid to that athletics festival, and another four years later, at age 28, Kanakuri competed in the marathon at the Antwerp Olympics in Belgium — finishing a creditable 16th. In 1924, he competed in Paris, too, but had to retire halfway through the race."

"In the meantime, Kanakuri achieved what is now his greatest legacy: the Hakone Ekiden, the 218-km team relay contested by universities from around the nation each New Year’s. Kanakuri played a key role in establishing that race officially known as the Tokyo-Hakone Round-Trip College Ekiden Race, which ever since its inauguration in 1920 has helped popularize long-distance running among Japan’s youth."

"Then in 1967, when Kanakuri was 75 years old and no doubt reflecting on a long and illustrious career, he received an odd invitation. The Swedish National Olympic Committee wanted him to return to Stockholm to participate in the 55th anniversary celebrations of the 1912 Olympics."

"Kanakuri should have realized that 55 was an odd anniversary to celebrate. Upon his arrival in the Scandinavian country he was informed that he had become known there as 'the missing marathoner' — the man who had vanished without a trace all the way back in 1912."

"And thus, for the benefit of the local media and the Swedish NOC, which was then trying to raise funds to send athletes to the following year’s Olympic Games in Mexico, Kanakuri was asked to 'finish' the race."

"Judging by press reports of the proceedings, the elderly gent was only too happy to oblige, running jovially around the last corner before charging through a special ribbon."

"His time was promptly read out — 54 years, 8 months, 6 days, 5 hours, 32 minutes and 20.3 seconds — and, according to Sayama, the elderly racer then responded: 'It was a long trip. Along the way, I got married, had six children and 10 grandchildren.'"

"The apparently modest Kanakuri could have boasted of having another 'child,' too. After all, by then he was known in his home country as 'the father of Japanese marathon'" (via).

I just love this story.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Real People  :  Humanity

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

The Creative Mind

I'm not a big fan of the word "success" because its connotations tend to deal with money and fame, which seem to be incomplete determiners of success. So, instead of "successful," creative - or perhaps even content - is a better fit. The descriptors still falling neatly into place. 

: Edit - 6/22/17 :

A good friend of mine, Eric Trauger, mentioned two additional words: progressive (as in progress - the moving advance or development toward a better, more complete, or more modern condition) and earnest.

I like these additions because they broaden the range a bit, especially earnest. Earnest, serious in intention, purpose, or effort - sincerely zealous - or, showing depth and sincerity of feeling, to me, carries more intentionality than the others. It switches the order.

If someone reads books, forgives, collaborates, etc, than they are creative, content, or progressive; they are are the effects of, not the cause. Living an earnest life, however, seems a more conscious decision - it is the cause, not the effect. 

All this, though, and perhaps most importantly, points to the idea that a "successful" life - a life marked by creativity, progress, and earnest living - is fully intentional, not accidental. It is a daily decision, a daily battle, to live with purpose and conviction, and to live outside of redundancy and monotony.  

To watch TV, or read. To encourage rather than criticize. To be thankful, not entitled. Strangely, it seems, life can be defined by these simple things. Which is encouraging, I think, and a bit terrifying. 

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Inspiration  :  Creativity

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Human, by Yann Arthus-Bertrand

Below is a short excerpt from a film entitled, "Human" by Yann Arthus-Bertrand.

"I am one man among seven billion others" Bertand writes. "For the past 40 years, I have been photographing our planet and its human diversity, and I have the feeling that humanity is not making any progress. We can’t always manage to live together.
Why is that?
I didn’t look for an answer in statistics or analysis, but in man himself."

Yann Arthus-Bertrand was born in 1946, and has always nurtured a passion for animals and the natural world. At a very early age, he began to use a camera to record his observations and accompany his writings.

On the occasion of the first Earth Summit in Rio in 1992, Yann decided to embark upon a major photographic project about the state of the world and its inhabitants: Earth From Above. This book enjoyed international success, selling more than three million copies. His open-air photographic exhibition was shown in around 100 countries and seen by some 200 million people.

Yann continued his commitment to the environmental cause with the creation of the GoodPlanet Foundation. Since 2005, this non-profit organization has been investing in educating people about the environment and the fight against climate change.

This commitment saw him appointed United Nations Environment Program Goodwill Ambassador in 2009. That same year, he made his first feature-length film, HOME, about the state of the planet. This movie was seen by almost 600 million spectators around the world (via).

You can watch the full-length movie here.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

The Great Wall: More than a History Lesson

"Climbing the Wall was very scary in the beginning," Judah writes in his journal, "but as we got to the fourth tower, it got a lot more fun and I got more brave." 

A little over a year ago, I mentioned to Josey (my wife) that I would like to take a small trip with Judah to the Great Wall. She thought it was a good idea too, but the conversation somewhat ended as soon as it started, because there wasn't time in our schedule - we were soon planning to have our fourth child and move back to the States. Near the halfway point of our last hundred days however, she brought it up again and suggested maybe we look into it - as a sort of last goodbye to our five years in China. 

In the coming months, the idea began to gain momentum and my journal slowly accumulated ideas and plans for the trip. Some of which would come to fruition, others would not, and that was fine because what I unexpectedly gained was the chance to watch my son, over the course of a couple hours, overcome his fears and learn foundational life-lessons. All because we made time to hike the Great Wall of China.

The Great Wall of China is long, 21,196 km (13,171 mi) long, and it holds some of the most splendid and awe-inspiring images Google can offer. But we didn't go to those places. Instead, we went further north, where the Wall has not been refurbished, where portions appear more like raised dirt paths than an ancient impenetrable barrier, and where we could stay the night without being bothered. 

Isolated, we walked on the original, untainted yet weathered, Great Wall of China.  

From the beginning, the path was tough. Often, the stairs were higher than Judah's knees, a few sections required straight up climbing, and at all times, the terrain was rough and uncertain. Steep edges plunged down on either side. For a ten-year old boy carrying a fifteen-pound pack (there were no lakes or streams around, so we had to carry up all our water), it was a bit unnerving. "It's dangerous," he kept saying, hunched over, clinging to the wall with both hands, "We could fall."

At first, I was patient and tried to sooth his fears. Then, as the whining continued and the sun grew more and more hot, I wasn't. "Stop being afraid!" I barked, but it didn't help. Unsurprisingly, it made things worse. Tears came to his eyes. "Just make it to the next tower," I said, "Then we can take a break."

Inside the tower, the temperature dropped about ten degrees and a swift breeze rushed through the windows and doors. We sat, pulled out our lunches and had a talk about fear, about how it's okay to be afraid because it can act as a guide - it can protect us. But also, how it should never control us. "You need to respect the Wall, son, but not fear it. When we climb, we need to be careful and go slow, but we don't need to give in to our fear. We overcome it." 

He nodded and said, "okay," but I didn't really know what that meant or if what I'd said mattered. I wasn't sure if he heard me or not. So we finished our lunch and continued, him in the lead and me encouraging from behind, and I watched my son transform. He started attacking the Wall, embracing the harder sections and walking with a confidence and surety he hadn't shown before. The whimpering stopped, his back straightened, and our speed steadily increased. Suddenly, we were hiking the Great Wall of China.

This lesson, this time and transformation of my son, was not listed in my journal prior to the trip, but it presented itself because of the trip, and because I was fortunate enough to be there and to, literally, walk through it with him. On the Great Wall of China! (As often as I write it here, I said it there. Every time we stopped for a break, every tower we summited, and just about every ten minutes or so, I'd say, "Judah, we're on the GREAT WALL OF CHINA!")

Around five-thirty, we reached the last of the towers (there were more, of course, but this one was in the best condition). We set up camp. We rested.

"We put our bags down," Judah writes, "and went up the mountain a little bit more and found a destroyed tower. A whole side of it fell into the inside and me and my dad sat on the edge and looked at the mountains. Then we found some firewood and we started back down and I slipped but I was far from the edge but then gave my firewood to Dad because we were right at the edge."

"Me and my dad." I love that, because that is exactly what this trip was, just us. No cellphones, no computers, and no games. Just us. 

And a hammok. 

And the sunset.

When the sun went down, we crawled into the tent and read by lamplight. Birds picked at our leftover dinner, the wind shook the flaps of our tent, and Judah asked if I'd rather stay in China or move to America. "I don't know," I answered, "I love them both. What about you?"

"Same." He said. Then we talked about moving from China and leaving family and friends and school and all the things we love about China. This conversation was in my journal of things to do, but coming up this way, in the still of the night, seemed much more appropriate, more natural. And even though it didn't last that long, for Judah, it was enough. Which was enough for me.

That night, we both slept better than expected. I even set my alarm, just in case, and was surprised that I actually needed it. I rolled out of bed around 4:30 but didn't have the heart to wake Judah. The little guy was tuckered.

Right outside the tower, on the edge of the wall, was a small ledge of crumbled stones, and it was just large enough for me to read, drink some coffee, and watch the sun rise in the far, hazy distance.

Judah slept for almost another three hours, allowing me plenty of time to think and consider the last true days of China. 

In recent days, the packing and cleaning and scrambling to put the major pieces in play for this trip has stolen any chance of considering all that we're moving toward, and all that we're leaving behind. But, while sitting in the quiet and watching the sun rise, a question finally surfaced, "How can our leaving bless others?" I've been so consumed with what we'll be missing, what we'll be leaving, and how we will be struggling with the transition that I've thought very little of how our leaving could bless others.

It suddenly occurred to me that I've been rather selfish in my final days. That I've been thinking of me and my family, not others. Not how I could bless them and love them, but how they might help me, how they could bless me. Many people did, graciously, but what did I do for them? 

Not much.

Before leaving for Beijing, I grabbed a few cards and stuffed them in my backpack, not sure what I might use them for but pretty confident I would need them for something. I snatched them from my bag and pulled the permanent marker from Judah's. Then, I sat and wrote a note. I knew how our leaving could possibly bless someone - even if it was too little  too late.

It was time to wake up Judah.

"What are you doing?" he asked after everything was packed. "I'm leaving these here," I said.

"Why?"

"Because it might bless someone."

He was warming his hands by the fire, but then stopped and walked over, "But don't we need them?"

"Need them? No. We could still use them for sure, but don't you think it would be pretty cool to hike all this way and find these nice things?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's why we're gonna do it. To leave a blessing for someone."

A small smile crept in, "We should leave a note with your email address."

I smiled too, "Already done."

"I have learned two lessons," Judah writes at the end of his journal, "but my dad says I learned three. He says I learned that it's okay to be afraid but fear cannot overcome you, and that dads know everything. I also learned that video games won't teach you anything but physical work can teach you to endure even when you're tired."

Like any other kid, Judah loves playing video games. He's playing one now, as I write, and it is a constant discussion of when and for how long he is allowed to play. Near the end of our journey, at the place where Judah was initially afraid and wanted to stop for the night, I asked him, "Aren't you glad we didn't stop when you wanted? That we kept going to the top."

He laughed a bit, "Yeah. We wouldn't have made it very far."

"Nope," I said.

"I don't know why I was so scared, it really isn't that big of a deal," and we both walked, with ease, over the section that challenged his heart so deeply the day before. Something a video game could never have taught him.

To paraphrase and steal from Thoreau, we went to the Wall because I wished to live deliberately, to suck out all the marrow of our last days in China, and to see if we could not learn what it had to teach. At the end, all my thoughts and emotions are reduce it to its lowest terms...

A night on the Great Wall of China, with my first-born son, to cap off five years living in this beautiful country. I can think of no better way to say goodbye.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Fatherhood  :  On Parenting

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

Boxed in : life inside the 'coffin cubicles' of Hong Kong

Photographer Benny Lam has documented the suffocating living conditions in Hong Kong’s subdivided flats, recording the lives of these hidden communities.

Benny Lam : Wednesday 7 June 2017 07.15 BST

‘I’m still alive and yet I am already surrounded by four coffin planks!’ … Hong Kong’s cage home tenants. All photographs : Benny Lam

Cage homes are minuscule rooms lived in by the poorest people in the city. Over the last 10 years, the number of cage homes made of wire mesh has decreased, but they’ve been replaced by beds sealed with wooden planks

These small, wooden boxes of 15 sq ft, are known as ‘coffin cubicles’

A 400 sq ft flat can be subdivided to accommodate nearly 20 double-decker sealed bed spaces

The tenants are different ages and sexes – all unable to afford a small cubicle, which would allow more room to stand up

A kitchen-toilet complex in a cage home

The photographs highlight the reality of Hong Kong’s housing crisis, where tens of thousands of people live in these cramped conditions because they can’t afford anything else

Many cage home residents awake to the cruel reality that all the shimmer and prosperity of Hong Kong is out of reach

An estimated 100,000 people in Hong Kong live in inadequate housing, according to the Society for Community Organisation (SoCO)

These photographs were taken for SoCO, an NGO fighting for policy changes and decent living standards in the city

Benny Lam’s series Trapped was shortlisted for the Prix Pictet 2017

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Photography  :  100x100 Living in Hong Kong

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!

With a severed head, Radiohead makes a point.

OK Computer is 20 years old. To mark the occasion, Radiohead is reissuing the album with three previously unreleased songs from that era (as well as eight B-sides). The album is now available for pre-order and will be released on June 23, but one of the unreleased songs, I Promise, is out now on Spotify, YouTube (see above) and elsewhere (via).

Lyrics:

[Verse 1]
I won't run away no more, I promise
Even when I get bored, I promise
Even when you lock me out, I promise
I say my prayers every night, I promise

[Verse 2]
I don't wish that I'm spread, I promise
The tantrums and the chilling chats, I promise

[Refrain]
Even when the ship is wrecked, I promise
Tie me to the rotten deck, I promise

[Verse 3]
I won't run away no more, I promise
Even when I get bored, I promise

[Refrain]
Even when the ship is wrecked, I promise
Tie me to the rotten deck, I promise

[Outro]
I won't run away no more, I promise

At first, I was drawn to this video - even before I knew the lyrics - because the sense of loneliness, isolation, and lost in deep thought was palpable. I was struck too, by the thought, "None of them are on their devices. No one is texting, watching a movie, or listening to music. Everyone is there, fully, and fully alone."

Then came the severed head, and I it lost me.

"In 'I Promise,' commuters are shown numbly staring out bus windows at night." This, from a recent Rolling Stone article. "Eventually, it's revealed that one of the commuters is nothing more than an animatronic head propped up against the window, where it views and processes what it's witnessing."

There are no electronics, because they are electronic. The commuters have become machines.

"When the android attempts to drift off to sleep," the article continues, "memories and dreams of a crying woman stir it awake. In an unsettling conclusion, it causes the android to have an emotional response to his thoughts. The video ends with the robot head weeping on the bus seat."

According to Rolling Stone, Thom Yorke was partly inspired by how the singer felt he was "living in orbit" while on the long tour in support of The Bends. "The paranoia I felt at the time was much more related to how people related to each other," Yorke said (via).

"But I was using the terminology of technology to express it. Everything I was writing was actually a way of trying to reconnect with other human beings when you're always in transit. That's what I had to write about because that's what was going on, which in itself instilled a kind of loneliness and disconnection."

The severed head means everything now. 

I commute to work and navigate most of the city through public transportation - subways and buses mostly. And like the many millions of people around me, I tend to plug in my headphones and checkout. I innocently bump into others, shuffle seats and awkwardly smile at people, but nothing any deeper than that - there is for sure a strong disconnect. Like a severed head.

And like Thom Yorke, this bothers me. A lot. So, a few months back, I stopped. For fifty days straight, instead of listening to a Podcast or some new album, I tried to connect with people. 

Then, the strangest thing happened. People began opening up to me and talking about their struggles, their simple thoughts and desires, and their plans for the future. Or, simply, just about life. Suddenly, strangers became people with various stories; they became regular, just like me.

Yorke was trying to reconnect with other human beings who are always in transit, lonely and disconnected. So he made a promise. To stay connected.

But very much unlike computers and very much like people.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Real People  :  Music

BE SURE TO SCROLL DOWN AND SUBSCRIBE - THANKS FOR READING!