loving art, science and creative kids
9/29/2018 1:18:54 PM
The Gossips
Acrylic on Canvas/ 12” x 36” x 1.5 “ $285
What are they saying? Are they cursing, bullying, sharing sordid stories or tales of beauty?
Potty Mouths
When did it become OK to curse in public? As a child living in a lower middle-class neighborhood, I was exposed to dirty talk on the streets. At home, however, mother treated profanities ruthlessly by washing my mouth with soap if I uttered one of the "evil " words. She taught me effectively for I never curse, nor do my friends, family, business associates or social acquaintances. So—who utters obscenities besides stand-up comedians?
I was surprised when when my writers group suggested I have characters in a novel I’m writing swear when exhibiting strong emotions. Uttering fuck or shit does not come naturally to me, though I do realize that for many people those words are common place. Saying “Knucklehead” or “Damn” ia considered whining instead of cursing.
Why is contemporary society willing to accept crude a words as the norm? What happened to “good” manners and "polite " conversation?
Strong language has always been part of the voice of most cultures. People in every country use profanity when their emotions erupt and explode to upset another person. But anger isn’t the only reason people use crude words. James Harbek of the BBC speaks of five different ways people swear. For example one can say, “descriptively (Let’s fuck), idiomatically (It’s fucked up), abusively (Fuck you…!), emphatically (This is fucking amazing), and cathartically (Fuck!!!).” These are not necessarily meant to annoy.
Some words are taboo, but whether they are considered swearing varies from culture to culture. For instance, in some South African tribes, it is not OK for a woman to say her father-in-law’s name or any word that sounds like it, but if she accidentally does, it doesn’t turn it into a curse word.
Genitalia are commonly used in strong language, but again, not always. In one Philippine language buray ni nanya (mother’s vagina) is heard as regularly as I would say, “Nuts!” Calling someone a ‘whore’ is also an international term that is usually to refer to someone other than a wife. The most aggressive curse in most cultures is naming a sexual act against someone’s mother. “Motherfucker” comes to mind.
Among Christian cultures, devil, hell, and Satan were turned into evil words by missionaries. Contemporary American society considers “damn” and “hell” to be moderate--in the middle of the spectrum. Potty words get mixed attention depending on the country. In Sweden, for instance, you might say Skif (Shit) if annoyed, but it is not a very considered a powerful curse and can be said in front of your Grandmother without repercussion. Poor health bothers the Dutch. Calling someone a “cancer sufferer”is a bad phase to use in Holland. In Mandarin, guītóu, or turtles head, is a veiled reference to penis and a strong curse.
Contemporary society is embroiled in a culture face-off between moralists and modernists. Moralists see swearing as a collapse of civility and a sign that America's getting coarser. They trace rampant cursing back to civil rights and Vietnam demonstrators who shouted curses during rallies in the 60’s. Since then, Hollywood films, rock music and hip hop have helped make them commonplace. Moralists believe society has lost all sense of shame. They believe increased use of profanities escalates anger and supports bullying that is disruptive to civilized communication.
Complaining about unchecked profanity is not new. In the 1920s, society railed around ‘slummers’, well-bred young people who emulated course language heard at the docks. In the 40s, a profanity came sailing home from the wars in Europe and Asia, along with returning GIs. But, during those periods, cursing didn’t not overwhelm common language as it does today. According to NPR, curse language has increased exponentially in recent years. They report that since the 1970s, causal vulgarity became more commonplace when dress and entertainment became more informal.
Modernists consider “dirty” words to be so ordinary that they're no longer profane. They’re simply colorful, though most agree that kids should be taught not to use them at inappropriate times. I overheard someone say that, “potty mouths are like potholes, just another of life’s little inconveniences.”
To many, however, they are much worse than potholes. To them, curse words and gutter talk indicate a lack of having class. Most citizens want their leaders to refrain from cursing. No one is interested in hearing a political say “Twat”, “Bitch” ,“Cock” or “Wanked” on national TV.
Apparently, I am one a of dwindling few who find vulgarness troubling, and don’t enjoy hearing people swear in public. I don’t even find it funny when comedians spout curse words and see their use as a crutch and poor substitute for cleverness.
When it comes to raising children, however, three-quarters of the population say parents should teach them that cursing is never right. Strangely enough, 85% of the same population poled, say they curse from time to time.
Uttering profanities is a vivid demonstration that your emotions got the better of you. When I hear people swear in anger, I tend to judge them badly, for they are out of control even if they are justified to be upset. I don’t want to be around them until they calm down. Swearing does not explain the cause of their anger and it gets in the way of their ability to problem solve.
Modernists need moralists if their curses are to mean anything. Foul mouths will lose power if everyone casually accepts profanity, for without prudes like me who are shocked by vulgarness, curse words will become meaningless.
I would love to hear your take on the use of profanity in common parlance. please comment on my blog site.
References:
Harbeck, J. (2015) Mind your language! Swearing around the world. BBC Culture. retrieved from http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20150306-how-to-swear-around-the-world
Nunberg,G.(2012) Swearing: A long and 3%@&$ History. NPR - Fresh Air Opinion. retrieved from https://www.npr.org/2012/07/24/156623763/swearing-a-long-and-history.
My art is aways for sale. Contact me at [email protected].
9/22/2018 7:26:02 PM
Georgetown Row Houses
Until the age of eleven, I lived in a row house close to neighbors, where friends were easily made,
and it was safe to roam the streets.
acrylic painting / 30" by 22" / framed / 4450.
Nostalgia
Last Saturday was my birthday. I was born on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, which ushers in the Days of Awe that last through Yom Kippur. According to the Jewish calendar, fall rituals have been celebrated for 5779 years. These high holy days are a time for remembrance, contemplation and forgiveness. It is a solemn, yet joyous, occasion, for with forgiveness comes healing and gladness. Children are blessed, extra charity is dispersed and honey cakes eaten to usher in a sweet year.
While celebrating my birthday and the holiday, I reminisced about my childhood and relatives who were no longer alive. My first recollection as a toddler was of my father waking me in my crib and while half asleep, carrying me downstairs to a house full of friends partying in our living room. I was bewildered by the noise, but the faces that peered in my direction were friendly. Dad held me securely, as he and my mother did throughout the years I lived at home.
This memory made me think of less fortunate families, those fleeing homes because of war or famine. I remember a newspaper picture of a child drowned at sea while his parents watched helplessly from an overcrowded boat. Courageous men and women live through unimaginable adversity in order to escape the tragic realities of their homeland. At the same time, the images make me grateful for being held securely, never dropped or neglected, but always loved, cradled and protected.
Grandpa thought he was protecting us by roaming the neighborhood during WWII to make sure blackout shades were lowered. Mother watched out for us by carefully clipping rations to insure that we ate balanced meals that included vegetables from my grandparent’s victory garden. When the men left for the front and an aunt and cousins came to live with us, the adults shielded us from the brutality the war and made sure our early years were happy ones.
Later, when the U.S. was embroiled in the Cold War, there were no adults to protect me from fear. Air-raid drills and bomb shelter talk put me in a state of continuous worry. I felt stressed and wanted to move far away from the coast, believing that Boston would be a prime target. Propaganda said we’d be safe ducking under school desks to avoid harm from a blast. We were told to make preparations in case the had to stay in a basement shelter for several days. I became cynical after realizing we were lied to and being fed propaganda. It reinforced a belief that my future was tied to education. I wanted to be able to dig for the truth and make decisions based on fact. But I digress. . .
Until my eleventh birthday I lived in a lower middle-class area of Philadelphia during a time peddlers hawked wares on the streets. I used to run outside the moment the organ grinder stopped to play in front of our house. His music attracted neighborhood kids with nickels to place in the monkey’s cup. Dressed in colorful shorts and red jacket, we were mesmerized as the animal ran back and forth from music box to the organ grinder’s shoulders.
Some families still used ice boxes instead of electric refrigerators, which brought the ice truck to a nearby corner. The iceman’s arrival always attracted a crowd of kids to his tailgate on hot summer days. When finished with deliveries, he took out his long icepick and chipped slivers of ice to put in outstretched hands. Licking icicles was a cooling way to enjoy the heat—and it cost nothing. However, the Howdy Doody truck which jingled later in the day, was also popular. I always tried to be first in line to get a popsicle.
Summer was for leisure and play. Hours were not heavily booked with classes and camps. We had plenty of time to splash in the water gushing from a hydrant that was opened by a friendly fireman and to play Hide and Seek, Jacks or Red Light, Green Light. Stay-at-home-moms watched out for our safety. I could get a band aid or drink of water at anyone’s house.
Today, I rarely see children gathered in the neighborhood for a pick-up game of ball or hopscotch. During vacations, most are away at camps or classes. When home, their parents hover with worry, fearing t they’ll be hit by a car driving fast down our windy street or worse, kidnapped. Instead of letting them explore a nearby trail on their own, they accompany them on prescribed walks. No one would be permitted to play Red Rover, Red Rover across the road.
My biggest fear is fire. Last summer, my partner Ray, organized a fire watch for we were afraid of someone accidentally setting off a blaze in the dry canyon edging our property. Fortunately there were no incidents nor was water consumption limited but I fear a warming planet may make that happen one day. I empathize with residents of California who lost everything to fires that whipped through their neighborhoods. I”m grateful to live in the northwest where it is not as hot, and hope we will have enough water and resources in the future to care for thousands of people flowing to Portland to escape unlivable heat.
In my twenties, I lived near Harvard University in Cambridge. In many ways, shopping was easier then than it is now, for vendors still hawked wares up and down our street. The milkman delivered dairy goods, baby diapers arrived and were taken away twice weekly. The Salvation Army’s band entertained us as it marched by our front steps. Trucks piled high with fresh fruits drove by followed by others peddling pots and pans and cutlery. And of course, everywhere we went the ice-cream truck jingled its tune. My favorite vendor, however, was the knife sharpener. For a few coins, scissors and knives were kept dangerously sharp. Now, I depend on Ray to do the job when he has time. I’m too lazy to take them to a hardware store for sharpening. I used to walk to the grocery, meat market, hardware store, and I took sheets and shirts to the laundry where they were washed and ironed for such a reasonable sum that everyone, even college students, could afford to do so.
Today, most of us drive to mega stores, park a block away from the front door. But, I noticed that there is a revival of inbound services. Not only can you get pizza delivered, but groceries and entire cooked or uncooked oven-ready meals can be delivered to your front door. Working adults are happily pampered by tip seeking deliverymen who make their lives easier. They certainly have benefited my wheelchair bound son.
I am, however, still a holdout waiting for the knife sharpener to come around. My scissors are dull.
Art is always for sale. Contact me at [email protected].
Do share some of your fond memories from childhood and contrast them with how you live today.
9/15/2018 12:54:39 PM
Richard and Marilyn
Mixed media on canvas/ framed/ 24”x 28” x 2” / $ 450
Love: Romantic Beginnings
My first romantic encounter happened when I was in sixth grade. While a safety crossing guard at a slow traffic intersection, a good looking classmate named Ralph stopped by each morning to keep me company. I don’t remember what we talked about, but I do know that we had a lot to say to each other. The attraction blossomed to the point of organizing a mock wedding complete with bridesmaids and rabbi. Afterwards, in my basement rec. room reception, we ate cookies and played spin the bottle. The bottle never stoped my way to give us a chance to kiss, but it was soon obvious that one of the bridesmaids was more attractive to Ralph than me. That was the end of our romance, love affair and marriage.
Years later, when my future husband first kissed me goodnight on the lips, it was only a peck, but electricity soared through my body. Though the moment lasted a second, the memory of that kiss lasted a lifetime. I wondered what was happening to me, why I felt weak all over. We hardly knew each other, so I didn’t pretend to be in love, but he certainly captured my attention and I wanted to get to know him better. We spent the next many months romancing each other.
An explanation of the difference between love and romance that I read on-line says, “Romance is the expressive and pleasurable feeling from an emotional attraction towards another person often associated with sexual attraction. And love in best defined as a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes that ranges from interpersonal affection to pleasure.”
Romance is at its peak in the preliminary stage of a relationship, when people go out of the way to make gestures of fondness. It is not until they understand each other and learn to compromise that love deepens and takes over. Romance is important for it brings the couple closer to exploring boundaries. It is a time of wishful thinking, flirtation, and lust, but can also produce fake and unrealistic yearnings. It’s only when small daily acts of consideration and kindness occur that the carpet unfurls a path leading to love.
I have loved. More than once I’ve been romanced and then loved. And, though several liaisons ended by us going separate ways, my feelings of love for these men have endured to this day. I acknowledge how each relationship provided me with strength to tackle the challenges I faced at the time.
This summer, in my “Do You Need a Mother” booth at Shift Festival, many young visitors asked for advice of the heart. What I noticed is that they are impatient. They long for a love partner without wanting to go through the romance and relationship building phase. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. It takes a long time to build enough trust to communicate honestly. Romantic wooing is part of the deal and it stays as part of the formula of those in long term relationships. For love needs to be nurtured as much as a plant requires fertilizer.
I look back fondly to memories of romance—the time I was a newlywed in Europe, sharing a delicious meal, uninhibited by enough wine to let us dance, hug and kiss our way back to our hotel though deserted Parisian streets. —or when I was in Monte Carlo, hoping to cheer my injured husband by dancing before him to an orchestra that was playing in an empty restaurant. —or when the clock struck 12 on New Year’s Eve, 2000, and dressed in finery, my fiancé and I were at the top of the Seattle’s Space Needle watching fireworks exploding below.
Romances are pleasures and shared moments that propel us into deeper love. It is a tool that prolongs and reinforces the bond between two people. Taking time to reaffirm your appreciation and acknowledge how special your partner is, will only strengthen your relationship. Though love may deepen over time, it can also be lost if taken for granted. It is important to periodically renew your commitment, to play, to laugh and to share special experiences that remind you why you fell in love in the first place.
Do share some of your most romantic remembrances on my blog site.
Art is always for sale at [email protected].
Reference
Difference Between Love and Romance. retrieved from https://www.quora.com/What-is-the-difference-between-love-and-romance
9/8/2018 7:43:34 PM
Ready to Blossom
Mental Illness is a changing tableau with twists, swoops and buds that blossom over time.
Acrylic on Canvas/ black frame/ $ 299
The following section is an excerpt from the section on Mental Illness in Over the Peanut Fence, scheduled for release in late September. A book signing event is planned for some time in October. I’ll keep you posted.
Mental Illness
“My early training in mental heath was during the time large state hospitals were emptied of their patients. Simultaneously, government subsidies were cut. Community health centers, were inadequate to care for the needs of so many seriously ill people, ushered in an era of in- creased homelessness.
'The Canadian Journal of Adolescent Psychiatry conducted a random study of 60 youth in homeless shelters and found 50 percent of them to be clinically symptomatic or with a drug ad- diction problem.116 The study, one among many, provides evidence that mental illness undermines problem-solving abilities needed for survival. Only recently have social agencies for the homeless started addressing psychiatric diseases, but it is becoming a growing area of concern. The Canadian teen population mirrors that of the United States, so I include the following information as an approach to combat hopelessness.
'There is conflicting evidence about whether lack of shelter undermines hope. Therapists believe that without optimism, there is suffering, which in severe cases can lead to suicide. Youths with stable housing are more likely to feel hopeful and able to perceive themselves as resilient, are less lonely, and engage in fewer life-threatening behaviors. Those in unstable living situations are more likely to have bleak, hopeless attitudes, becoming easily depressed and in need of psychiatric intervention. Counselors face a conundrum, for unless a mentally ill youth walks into their clinic seeking help, there is not much that can be done for a disturbed adolescent wandering the streets.
'Homeless adolescents never use fee-based services and only rarely use those that are free. Hospital emergency rooms are the path of least resistance when health concerns are serious. Since most teens consider themselves to be more mentally stable than they actually are, the bur- den falls on emergency room and clinic practitioners to identify those who are unstable and offer services beyond the presenting illness.
U. S. statistics report that 20 to 25 percent of people who live on the streets suffer from severe mental illness as compared to 6 percent of the general population. Psychological problems contribute to an inability to develop stable relationships, and the youths often push away care- givers, family members and friends willing to assist.
'Emotional problems often lead to physical disease because of neglectful health practices and inadequate hygiene. Skin diseases, exposure to tuberculosis or HIV, and respiratory diseases are among those commonly seen in emergency room settings. Minorities are especially vulnerable. Those who are mentally ill are prone to self-medicate by using readily available street drugs.
"Contrary to popular belief, once identified and contacted by a health provider, mentally ill adolescents tend to accept treatment willingly. Housing, though a first concern of runaways and caseworkers, does not give adequate care for emotionally challenged teens in need of a trusting counselor. Those from impoverished backgrounds also may need lessons in personal hygiene, finances and how to navigate the health care system. Emotional problems are not easily mended and require treatment and supportive services over many years. Education, employment, money management and peer support need to be integrated into medical and psychological treatment plans.
"Mental problems tend to accelerate in the late teens and early 20s, causing impulsive acts and irrationality. But oftentimes, symptoms are visible earlier, well before the youth gets into serious trouble and leaves home. Family physicians and parents need to intervene when distress is first suspected, for once the teen has left home it’s harder to get help. Homeless youth are wary and tend to distrust the medical system because they don’t think they will be taken seriously. They believe adult solutions are likely to involve pills being thrown at them rather than helping them understand the root cause of their problems. When sent to mental wards that serve a mixed- age group, they don’t feel free to discuss their problems. Adolescents need to be in environments among their peers, and not with mature adults.
'It is important to remember that treatment only works if the person is ready and not compelled. Culturally specific counseling of a nontraditional nature that prepares them to go through the stages of change has a better chance of succeeding. For instance, a depressed LGBTQ youth might need peer mentors who are encouraging, while an anorexic teen might be aided by someone who overcame an eating disorder. A learning disabled child might benefit from tutoring. In each case, the counseling goal is to motivate the youth to want to overcome their dysfunction and develop a personalized action plan.”
Art is always for sale. COntact me at [email protected].
Do comment on my blog below.
9/1/2018 12:48:32 PM
The following excerpt from Over the Peanut Fence discusses one cause of youth homelessness. Lack of love is devastating to a child’s physical and mental growth. Over the Peanut Fence, in its final pre-production stage, will be for sale late September. A book signing party is being organized for October. I’ll keep you posted.
Lovelessness
“As I wander around Portland, observing dozens of teens hanging out, I wonder who will have a productive, happy life and which ones will fail. If you’re like me, you do not enjoy having homeless youths take over neighborhood parks or sit on public sidewalks begging for a handout as you pass. If you’re like me, you don’t enjoy descending the stairwell of city-center parking garages that smell like urine. And, if you are like me, you feel intimidated when a gang of youths walks down the street making lewd remarks.
Helping these adolescents is important, not only for their sake, but selfishly for mine. This is why I questioned whether street youth were permanently damaged. I wanted to know if they lost all sense of morality. What I discovered was that antisocial behavior is aimed at society at large and not their own peer group. Most follow a strict set of rules that define street-life values. They care for friends by sharing food, cigarettes, information and a code against “ratting”.
These are hopeful behaviors because they can be exploited and transferred to society at large. My questioning continued. When did they acquire a willingness to help others? Did lack of parental love affect their behavior? I had always assumed love is instinctual and that every newborn is a recipient of warm parental care. Without it, I reasoned, a helpless infant could never survive. I now realize feelings of love and responsibility are not a given.
The majority of us are fortunate in that we are surrounded by affectionate parents and relatives. As infants, we were held and cherished. And as adults, we find partners and form bonds based on fondness and mutual respect. But what happens to children who are never caressed or told they are special? What are the long-term effects of never having been touched or cuddled? What befalls those who are abandoned, left on doorsteps or placed in cribs and not attended to when they cry or their diapers need to be changed?” . . . . . . . .
“Between 1962 and 1967, the HighScope Perry Preschool Project, in conjunction with nurse-family practitioners ran another insightful study conducted with three and four year old African- American children.28 The school had an average child-teacher ratio of 6:1 and their curriculum included decision-making and problem-solving activities as well as physical movement. Program directors asked parents to participate in weekly visits designed to bring them into the education process.
The project is important because it followed the children until the age of forty, proving the effectiveness of early intervention. In-depth analysis enabled educators to design successful curriculums. The study concluded that “without repeated acts of love, a child’s brain doesn’t make the growth hormone needed for proper mental and physical development.” The child is left scarred and permanently affected. Their stress levels are high, setting the stage for elevated cholesterol levels, cardiovascular disease, metabolic syndromes and other conditions that pose serious health risks.
Even small insults of shame and rejection can impact a youngster’s health. Adults who say “I can’t believe you would embarrass me like that,” or “You Idiot! Who do you think you are?” hurt the child and affect the child’s self-esteem. Many children act out by being cruel to animals, setting fires, taking drugs or simply withdrawing into themselves. Warmth and love are crucial for a child’s well-being.
Zach’s story is a good example of the importance of attachment. Though often neglected and occasionally abused, he was loved by his parents. When they were high on drugs or alcohol he was occasionally smacked and at times not fed, yet those instances were not as important in the long-run as knowing he was wanted. Since he belonged to an extended family that lived nearby, when the situation became intolerable he found shelter with relatives. This minimal amount of support during difficult times helped him grow into a caring person. Those who have never been the recipient of affection are not so fortunate.
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Have an enjoyable Labor Day weekend with family and friends.
Do comment below if you have time.
I can be reiched at [email protected]
