Scene and heard

A measure of when a man is getting old is when he stands more chance of controlling the head in his pants than the head on his shoulders.

(May I never have full control over either! :))

I bought an umbrella a few weeks ago and left it in my desk for a rainy day. Monday was that day. I took the label off and gave it a little read. The Super Mini Fold, “Folds small; opens full size” and this is the important bit, it is “Water resistant”.

I can’t believe I didn’t check to see that it was water resistant before I bought it. Most careless of me and definitely fortuitous that I spent my money on an umbrella that is water resistant. Call me picky, but I consider that quality to be a minimum requirement!

It's a good thing that ears don't have a sense of smell...... because ear wax stinks!

I was on the subway platform at Union Square, waiting for the train back to Brooklyn when a woman came up to me.

“Excuse me, but where are you from?”
I paused for a moment, wondering why she was asking, having entirely forgot what I was wearing
“Only I saw your Quaker Steak and Lube T-Shirt and my husband is from around there. Can I ask where you got it?”
“I actually got it at the original one in Sharon, but I’m not from there.”
She laughed: “I could tell”

Before their Q train came, the husband came over and we had a brief chat. I told them that my good friend (Rob, who now lives in Pittsburgh) used to live there and whenever I visited, we always went to Quaker Steak and Lube and that it was, let’s face it, about the only place in town that visitors must go to. He wryly agreed.

When the question was first asked, I was taken back to my first time waiting in Niagara Falls Bus Station after a visit with Rosemary (http://www.goarticles.com/cgi-bin/showa.cgi?C=473845). I was minding my own business. The only words I had spoken were when ordering a hot dog and soda. But the Border Guard who asked me for my passport hadn’t been around then. How did he know that I was foreign? I was baffled by that for months, until I bought a jacket here in America. The zipper was on the other side. I asked a friend if zippers were always on the right side here and was told yes. Well, in England, they’re always on the left. A-ha!

I wonder if zippers are the same as roads: On the left in the UK, Ireland, Jamaica, India, Japan, New Zealand, Kenya etc, but on the right the USA, France, Russia, China, Australia etc. (If you are interested, the history of who drives where is all here: (http://users.pandora.be/worldstandards/driving%20on%20the%20left.htm). I don’t really wonder that, by the way. It was just an amusing thought.

Unlike my 4 days in Pittsburgh, I don’t have my own office in Boston. But there are certainly some great views. That hook of land you see jutting into the water is where the Charles River flows into the Atlantic Ocean. The little inlet closest to my vantage point is the Atlantic.

(Why do Americans put the word ‘River’ after, as in Hudson River, Mississippi River, whereas Brits put the word first, as in River Thames, River Severn?).


And this one is of the aptly named Boston Clock Tower.



Where next, I wonder? All I can say for sure is, if I am high up, I’ll take my camera in and post pictures on here.

I had a good seat-mate on Friday. The girl in front seemed not to understand that on a full bus, you can't put your seat all the way back. She did that about 15 minutes before our break. When I got back on the bus before her, I adjusted it. And when she tried to push it back again, I was ready for her, and pushed back when she had gone far enough for my liking. So she ended up just about right.

The driver was pathetic and scary. Seemed to have problems holding his lane and also couldn't keep his foot evenly on the accelerator, so even when we were at an even pace, the bus was jerking. And he didn't quite seem to realise that the bus would slow down if he took his foot off the accelerator, so he would break hard at any sign of traffic ahead - even 100 yards ahead. If he stopped the bus 3 feet behind the next vehicle, he needed to accelerate then break, 4 inches at a time until close enough for his liking. He tailgated, switched lanes too much and inexplicably decided to take Northern Boulevard in Queens instead of the BQE which added time to the journey. He could actually jerk to a halt from one mile an hour! Not everyone can do that!

I have to stop watching these guys driving. The other time I really paid attention, the guy was constantly using one of his hands to hold his cell phone and seemed to look away from the road almost as much as he looked at it.

My last few seat mates have not been so good. None quite seemed to have a clue that when their elbow caught something to their right, that was my arm. I know I don’t do this! The first of these was a hyper-active college student who couldn’t sit still, and couldn’t move without it somehow affecting me. And he seemed to feel the constant need to touch his leg and seemed to be fine with touching mine at the same time. Honestly, the last time my leg was touched that much, I was naked and in bed with Susan. That would be 7 months ago now. Wow! Time flies.

The following journey, my choice of seats was the difference between the ideal journey and an awful one. There were two double seats available near the front of the bus. I took the second one, as the seat in front of the other one was leaned too far back. Moments later, someone sat there. Two minutes later, a delightful picture of serene beauty sat next to the guy in front. She spoke briefly and had the sweet (not saccharin) voice that would have women instantly warm to her and men fall in love.

Who sat next to me? A very motherly mother. Her 10 or 11 year old daughter sat across the aisle one row ahead. And it was snack time, so mom dished out food, constantly elbowing me in the process. I decided to ‘be nice’ and let mom and daughter sit next to each other, as much as anything to spare myself and the other nearby passengers the cross aisle chat. The woman I then sat next to was an avid reader. A fast reader. And every time she turned a page, she brushed past me on the way up and elbowed me on the way down. How many people are completely oblivious of where they end and everything or anyone else begins!? Have I just been unlucky?

For some years now, Orangina has been my favourite soda. Just had a bottle (or the contents thereof) with my lunch, and decided to read the label. I’ve done his before, but somehow the following little fact had previously eluded me.

Beneath the bit about there begin 100 calories per half bottle (who, I ask, drinks half of a 16 oz or half litre bottle?!!!), it says that this isn’t a significant source of Vitamin C.

But 12% of it is juice, and the largest portion of that is Orange Juice! Tropicana claim that their OJ has 450 milligrams of Vitamin C per 8 ounces. (that’s 112.5 per 2 ounces)

Some very over simplified numbers here:
12% of 16 ounces is about 2 ounces
112.5 milligrams is 50% more than the 75 mg recommended daily intake of Vitamin C

(OK, I realise that they are basing their nutrient values on half a bottle, but double of insignificant is probably still somewhat insignificant and half of 1.5 times the daily recommended intake is still 3/4 of it!)

(I know that people who don't get numbers will think I'm rambling or have lost it, but I'm having fun, so raspberries to you!)


Even allowing for some of the juice in Orangina being Lemon and Tangerine, and presuming that concentrate has a somewhat lower nutrient value than the unreconstituted stuff,

WHAT THE HELL DID THEY DO WITH ALL OF THAT VITAMIN C?!!!!
(Sell it to GNC?)

When I started in my current job, I was told it was for 3-6 months and thought the actual duration would be based upon necessary work. But economic realities, especially during bad times – and these are undoubtedly bad times in the Financial Sector among others – often overcome needs when the money people sit down to determine where necessary cuts should be made. There are lots of needs, let’s face it!

So whereas my truly essential work is about 3 months from completion, I was told this week that my last day will probably be May 16th. There is a slim chance that I will be told something different early next week, but budgets need to be trimmed and consultants are pretty much always the first to go. I have been the victim as consultant and the spared as employee, so this isn’t a shock. But having just come back from a trip to Pittsburgh to finally meet the people I am doing the bulk of my work for, the timing most definitely caught me by surprise.

So I am back up on dice.com, my favourite job search site, and I have contacted people in New York, Boston, San Francisco, London and Amsterdam. Hmmm, perhaps Dublin wouldn’t be a bad idea either. Last time the job market was this bad, it was about the only place that there were still jobs. And I have thought about it a few times of late, rather wishing I could at least visit there again. It’s one of those places that gets inside of you. That is probably it’s only similarity to New York and Amsterdam other than that everyone in all three places speaks English! I exclude London from that, because even though I think it does have that quality, I am from there and have close family there, so my reasons for wanting to go back are different.

I digress! This job has been wonderful for me financially, but it will have only lasted 12 weeks by May 16th, so even though I will not immediately be destitute, I certainly can’t afford a prolonged time out of work. Perhaps and hopefully, my willingness to travel for now, at least, will mean that I have little to no time off. I will travel almost anywhere, but I do yearn for home.

I’m very worried about the long term health of the US and therefore the World economy. I made a comment last October that money is the cocaine of the wealthy, and the thought came back to me. For some, today’s money fix just will not be enough for tomorrow.

We see evidence of this all over, but in the corporate world, it is manifested most disturbingly in the way companies cut jobs after a good year that they don’t expect to top the following year. Of course, in bad years, the cuts are greater. People work harder and are more stressed, but ultimately, the only person who is really rewarded is the one who wields the axe- even when profits are down.

Companies merge and cut more jobs. More stress on the employees, more emphasis on next year’s dividend and still higher remuneration for the directors.

Oil prices have reached record levels not because of the usual supply and demand market forces, but because of short term investor greed. (Exxon, fortuitously for them, benefited to the tune of a 40 billion dollar profit last year – that is $111m a day and $1,268 per second but stupid George Bush will not impose a windfall tax because this would ultimately ‘have to be’ passed on to the consumers – according to him, anyway!) Got to keep increasing profits, even if they are obscene and unjustifiable.

So exactly how long can numbers be crunched so that more is gleaned from less? What can we do to wean the greedy people who can’t see beyond the bottom line of the balance sheet – either corporate or personal? If the rubber band snaps back, as I expect, who will suffer the most – the people who caused it with their greed or the people who fear for their jobs? That, of course is a rhetorical question. Ultimately, each of these questions is rhetorical. Greed of the type we are currently seeing is extreme narcissism, and that is a disease for which there is no known cure.

Perhaps, the real questions are, what happens to Investor confidence and the Stock Market when cuts in the workforce start leading to mistakes that result in losses and/or lawsuits? What happens when either no more cuts can be made or even job cuts don’t increase profits in an otherwise decent economy? This economy has been driven by continual increases in the bottom line at the expense of those who actually do the work. But it cannot and will not persist. No rubber band can expand in perpetuity. Sooner or later, it will either snap back to its true size or entirely break. I don’t believe we have too long to go before we find out what happens.

I know that one of the things that will happen is that those pension funds that so many people pay into will suddenly be worth a whole lot less. And I can predict with some confidence that if anyone is bailed out by the government, it will be the greedy shits who are causing this mess and not the individuals whose retirement will suddenly seem very much more secure.

People strive for success. They work late into the evening and at weekends to achieve it. What is it?

Is it attaining a high salary, expensive house, (if you’re a guy, expensive wife) and being able to afford the very best of everything? Is it reaching the pinnacle of success in one’s chosen profession?

Is reaching this goal worth putting off parenthood for? Judging by the number of 40-something women on dating websites looking for men who will marry them and father their children, some certainly think so.

There is another definition. When my father passed away 7 years ago, his house was nice but modest and his tastes were understated. But he loved and had the love of an amazing wife, 3 kids, 8 grandchildren, a sister, sisters-in-law, nieces, nephews and friends. And he was happy. He died feeling that he was a success. And I entirely agree with him.

I believe that without love, everything else is empty, and the people who are so busy with their own lives that they buy stuff for their kids in lieu of actual parenting that they have no time for, will never experience what my father did and that their success is an illusion.

I was up just after 5am on Monday to get ready for a 6am cab ride to LaGuardia Airport. $98 in cab fare (fully expensed) and a short flight later, I arrived in downtown Pittsburgh. I can’t figure out why some people say they don’t like that city! It is beautiful.

At lunch, I met my friend Rob for lunch. I had seen him with a few other friends one evening in New York nearly two years ago, but it had been 5 years since we spent any real time together. We go back to 1979, so this trip was greatly anticipated by me. We went to a place where three of the menu items are deep fried (in tempura batter) ham and salami hoagie, deep fried (in tempura batter) meatloaf hoagie and salad with fries and cheese on top. Seems the latter is a Pittsburgh staple! Reasoning that I was tired due to my early start, I ate a salad without the fries and cheese! In the Monday evening we went to see Naomi Klein speak at Carnegie Mellon University, which was interesting but not great.




On Tuesday, I took some pictures from the 54th floor of the Mellon Center. I loved my temporary office. The view from there was great. But it was the other side of the floor that the best views were.

The week began with a day that started cold and, as the wind shifted so that it was coming from the East, it got colder still. It turns out that when the wind comes off the Ocean, at least at this time of the year – I sure as hell hope it isn’t so in June – the temperature in Downtown Boston equals that of the water, which just happened to be 39 degrees Fahrenheit (4 C). It felt like February!

The next couple of days warmed slightly, so that on Wednesday, it was in the low 50s. Thursday was glorious! Over 70 degrees with clear skies. I went for the half mile walk to the Haahba – that’s Bostonian for Harbour, although I suspect their should be more a’s – at lunchtime. I would have taken pictures, but the sun was too low and bright.

After work, I went on a solo walk through the area around Harvard Square. For those of you who don’t know, Harvard University is in Cambridge, Massachusetts, just across the Charles River from Boston. The area is lovely and full of life. I have become used to the energy and vibrancy of early Spring in New York and just couldn’t go straight home on such an amazing day. No, Harvard Square is not Greenwich Village or the Lower East Side, but there are people out on the street and it is very interesting and very nice to walk around.

I started by turning away from the river. There is a graveyard that dates back to the 1630s. I would have loved to have been able to walk in it, but unsurprisingly, it was closed to the public. Unfortunately, I couldn’t capture the worn gravestone wording from my vantage point, but the stones typically begin with ‘here lyes….’

From there, I walked to the river. It is very pretty, but unfortunately, with the night still drawing in relatively early, I didn’t get the shots I was hoping for. I will make sure to go back there in a few weeks, take up a good position, and capture the many joggers. Hopefully, I’ll also find a river full of rowers.

My first 4 nights in the new place, I didn’t sleep as well. On Thursday early morning, I dreamt that it was light out and I was laying waiting for the alarm to go off for an hour. Then I opened my eyes and I was still dark out and barely 5am. I felt tired that day. Why? It isn’t as if I was really awake for that hour. I thought my head was playing tricks on me. It has an interesting sense of humour. Sometimes you’d think it had a mind of its own!

I was supposed to work in Pittsburgh this coming week, but the person I was going to work with cannot be in the office. So I will instead go the following week – from Monday to Thursday. I will have to be up at 5am for a 7:55am flight, but I don’t care as I will be able to spend the whole of that Sunday at home and have a third, albeit shortened night in my amazingly comfortable bed. While there, I will stay with my good friend Rob, who I have known since 1979. I have a 4-day weekend planned for the 18-21 of April, just to re-charge my batteries and enjoy home comforts.

Did I say my commute would be shorter? I wasn’t taking into account the Green Line in the Rush Hour. It is slow! But it is also considerably more interesting than the Red Line – certainly from the aspect of being a man! Quincy is very Middle Class and Middle Aged, whereas Brookline is a nice mix of intellectuals, students and artists. Not only is the view better through the window – Beacon Street is interesting – but there are actually attractive women there. They were few and far between in Quincy!

I’m settled into my room. No TV but I haven’t missed it. I had realised on the only really nice day so far, that maybe, just maybe, I’m a little lonely there 5 days a week. I hadn’t noticed, going back to my old room with the weather so damned cold. But when it was nice, it hit me. I’m fine being indoors alone. I can eat in restaurants alone. I can sit in a park for an hour or so and read a book. But I’m really not good at doing activities alone. So I placed an ad in the platonic section of craigslist and received 3 emails. I’m emailing two of them and met one on Thursday who is very nice. We’ll meet again, I’m sure. But I didn’t want the complication of a relationship and it won’t become one.

3pm and I was heading out once again for the trek home, where I am writing this while sitting with Danielle, who I hadn’t seen in 10 months. My friend isn’t well. She is suffering terribly with symptoms of Lyme Disease. She has been living back in Pennsylvania with her family for a few months and is loving being back in the City. We will hit the town tomorrow.