Marcus' World

Nuns on Skates

Yesterday Helen and I went to Carl Schurz Park in the mid-afternoon, to toss around the football. 

Two nuns on skates--in full habit--were cruising through the park. It was hilarious, but in some strange way touching as well.  I realized that nuns need to have fun too.

As we walked to our spot in the park, we passed a Dad and two kids. Dad exclaimed, "Those are nuns on skates!" The kids didn't seem so surprised, which made the whole moment even funnier.

As we were tossing the ball around (really, me tossing and Helen receiving, with obnoxious coffee breaks on my part), we noticed the nuns skating away from the park back into the neighborhood.  A woman at the opposite corner from them paid no attention at all, either out of politeness or because she sees nuns on skates all the time. 

I preferred them in the park--a safe place to have fun and not worry about anything.  Out there in the rough world, these fragile nuns (grown women older than myself) might get hurt.  Not sure why I developed such sudden paternal instincts...I'll chalk it up to too much coffee, but maybe something else is going on.

Google Book Search and the Psychology of Librarians

On Wednesday I attended a talk by John Willinsky.  Willinsky is the founder of Open Journal Systems and the Public Knowledge Project, two efforts to increase open access to peer-reviewed research.  He'll soon be moving  from  the University of British Columbia to Stanford, which has a particularly close association with Google.  Willinsky spoke passionately about the potential for two projects--mostly Google Scholar, but also Google Book Search--to increase access to knowledge.

Siva Vaidhyanathan, a prominent cultural historian and media scholar at NYU, was in attendance.  After the talk he strongly challenged Willinsky's positive assessment of the Google Book Search program. Google argues that the project is fair use because only snippets of copyrighted material are made available online.  Vaidhyanathan argues that these snippets are worthless to readers; that Google's search algorithms are extremely opaque and do not allow adequate access to public domain materials; and that the case that the company is violating fair use is a "slam dunk" (a phrase with resurgent power, given George Tenet's new book.)  Assuming that Google loses the cases now before the courts, Vaidhyanathan fears that the cause of copyright reform that takes account of digital realities (the core US copyright law is now over 30 years old) will be set back. 

Vaidhynathan's core argument: Rather than a profit-seeking company, it would be far better if nationally prominent libraries--such as the National Library of Medicine and the Library of Congress--took on the important task of digitizing and preserving the world's knowledge.

Hear hear Siva.  Over a year ago, I made this argument in the great Google Book Search debate that spanned two blogs.

But I must admit that, ultimately, I was willing to make a Faustian bargain with Google.  The cause of increasing access to knowledge is so pressing, and the alternatives seemingly non-existent, that it was OK with me for a corporate behemoth to do it.  This leads to the other critical part of Siva's argument: that librarians should lobby for a massive public digitization program, just as genetics researchers did for the Human Genome Project. 

That's right--librarians should get out there and argue for public investment in digitization.  The average citizen still associates a librarian with a kindly grandmother who shushes patrons and wears her hair in a bun.  A vigorous and sustained lobbying campaign for public digitization--which would be hard to make sexy, even though it is critically important for the future of research and scholarship--would change this perception. 

But it is even more important to change our perceptions of ourselves. As Siva spoke, I realized  a critical difference between life sciences researchers (like the geneticists) and librarians.  The scientists are used to fighting for their share of the pie; they don't always get everything they want, but they go after it.  Librarians are used to making do with little, and are masters at developing creative consortiums that stretch scarce dollars as far as they can possibly go.  We don't lobby very much, at least not on the public stage.

Two exceptions to this rule: 1. when a patron's privacy and unfettered access to information is threatened; and 2. the long-running movement for open access publishing.

1. This is why librarians are such fierce opponents of the Patriot Act, which allows for the government to rifle through patron records for no reason.

2. Open access promises free online access to--at a minimum--publicly supported research.  It's a very complicated debate, because the current publishing model often supports other worthy causes. But open access advocates are very passionate (sometimes to excess), because the goal of increasing access to information is paramount.

So when Google offered to massively increase access to information, at no cost to cash-strapped libraries, it felt like manna from heaven.

However, relying on Google to digitize library materials is problematic for two reasons--the philosophical inconsistency of allowing a private company to develop a public good;  and the potential legal ramifications of the project as it is currently designed. 

We live in a time when it is easier than ever for people to find information themselves, however incompletely or imperfectly they might do it.  But the core tenet of librarianship is unchanged: the profession is about linking people to knowledge. So today's librarian must be willing to venture into uncharted  waters.  To really be players in the Google Book Search debate, for example, we (me too) must develop a much sharper grasp of the relevant legal principles. And we have to get away from the "making do" philosophy towards "how do we make it better?"

Sure, change is very hard.  This philosophical shift in librarianship might take decades, during which time many trailblazers will tire of the fight.  But the reward for those who stick with it will be a revitalized and rewarding profession.

The Human Cost of War

The 2007 Tribeca Film Festival began this week.  Now in its sixth year, the festival began in 2002 as a way to help downtown Manhattan recover from the economic and psychological wound of the September 11 attacks.  The festival has expanded all over town; Helen and I have never watched a Tribeca film in Tribeca.

Tonight we attended the premiere of Jerabek, a documentary about how the Jerabek family of Hobart, Wisconsin copes with the death of their son Ryan in Iraq.  Ryan Jerabek, Marine, died in Ramadi on April 6, 2004.  Since that time, his parents have built a memorial to their son, and they hold annual remembrances of all US soldiers who died in Ramadi that day.

Back in 2004, it was illegal to show the coffins of US soldiers who returned to Dover Air Force Base.  And it was even controversial for Ted Koppel to read the names of fallen US soldiers on television.  The election campaign was in full swing, and President Bush's efforts  to manage perceptions of the war were at full tilt.  Today he has lost much of his power to influence public opinion, but 2004 was a different time.

In this climate, filmmaker Civia Tamarkin decided to put a human face on the cost of war.  The movie is deeply touching, mostly because Ryan's younger brother Nick has decided to follow his brother's footsteps and join the Marines as an infantry soldier.  There's a scene when Nick goes to the Marine recruiter's office. The recruiter had actually declined to call him, because of his brother's death.   Nick really wants to enlist, however, and there's nothing anybody can say to stop him.  His Mom and Dad feel (rightly) that their family has already given very much to the United States.  But if parenting is ultimately about letting go, they now have to let go of Nick. 

Jerabek is extremely compelling viewing, and never more so than tonight--it turned out that the Jerabeks (Nick included) were sitting just a few rows in front of us.  One audience member--also a veteran--pleaded with Nick to become a military medic rather than an infantryman.  His father sat next to Nick; I noticed his tears as we left the theater.  When his mother rose to thank the audience for attending, it was almost like you could feel the heaviness of her heart.

Divest for Darfur Campaign

This week marks a new phase in the campaign to end the ongoing genocide in Darfur.  Representatives of the Divest for Darfur campaign went to Wall Street this morning, to emphasize how seemingly innocuous investment decisions can end supporting murder.  The campaign specifically targets Fidelity and Berkshire-Hathaway, but the larger point about how we should watch where our money goes is important.

Trace any investment all the way through, and you'll find something unseemly.  Helen and I are longtime investors in the Pax World Funds, one of many socially conscious mutual funds. Sometimes I wonder why we make the extra effort, since all money is dirty. 

But in most cases, at least, money isn't filthy. In  Darfur it is. 

So much success, and God speed, to the Divest for Darfur campaign.

Earth Day and Congestion Pricing

This morning I recycled my old E-machine computer, which I've owned since 1999.  Helen kept nudging me to look through the files and decide what was important, and I (halfheartedly) did so.  For most of my life I've been a pack rat--of both digital and physical items.  But for whatever reason, I am much less sentimental as we prepare to move to Berkeley in August.

Today is Earth Day, and the electronics recycling event was part of the City's activities.  This afternoon Mayor Bloomberg outlined his ideas for a green future for New York, which is expected to add 1 million residents over the next 20 years.  The most controversial element of the plan is "congestion pricing,"  which would levy a toll on all drivers south of 86th St. in Manhattan from 6 am-6 pm Monday-Friday.  Similar approaches have reduced congestion--and damaging  pollution--in London, so the Mayor thinks it is worth trying here.

Representatives from New York's outer boroughs have already come out aggressively against the idea.   Large swaths of the City (mostly in Brooklyn and Queens) are not well-served by public transit, and people who live in these areas often drive to Manhattan out of necessity.  The Mayor says that transit options in far-flung areas will be improved before the congestion pricing plan goes into effect.  But on first blush, outer borough politicians see this as a stealth tax on working people. 

This is clearly a political hot potato, which is why Mayor Bloomberg has avoided it for a long time.  Now that his final term is beginning to draw to a close (he still has 32 months), apparently Bloomberg has decided that he is in a strong enough position to push a highly controversial proposal.  Larger forces are behind him--within the last year, the public conversation on global warming has shifted thanks to Al Gore and the reports of the UN panel on climate change.  Very few people these days deny that something must be done to protect the planet. The debate about the means to do this will be very contentious, but at least we have moved beyond disputing the ends.

Mexico City

Helen and I have become big fans of travel in Latin America: Argentina in 2o05; Brazil in 2006; and now Mexico in 2007.  Apparently we like South America better than the North, because both Brazil and Argentina were more engaging than our recent journey to Mexico City. 

This doesn't mean that we didn't have a great time, despite Helen's sunburn and mild altitude sickness in the first part of the trip.  Mexico City is one of the world's highest capital cities, and it takes some getting used to.

The city has a reputation for being extraordinarily dangerous.  We never experienced any danger, even though we rode the supposedly fearsome subways frequently.  We weren't (too) foolish, of course; the neighborhood of Tepito is particularly problematic, so we never went there. And we dressed casually, which made us less likely targets than obviously wealthy people who travel by car and with bodyguards.  Plus, we never hailed a taxi on the street.

Because we felt safe, we roamed widely.  It seemed that everywhere we wanted to go was at least two subway transfers from where we were; these were epic transfers, in many cases.  By the last day, I was finally not so grumpy about this. Helen always took it in stride.  At a cost of 2 pesos (18 cents) per ride, the subway was an incredible bargain.

But all bargains have a price.  In the Mexico City subway, that price includes listening to loud music on boomboxes from people who want to sell you cheap CDs.  Or Trident bubble gum.  Or crossword puzzle books.  Whenever a subway car did not offer cacophonous entrepreneurship, it felt like a moment of grace.

New York's subways have sales pitches too--usually from kids selling candy, who "aren't using the money for no basketball team, but just want to stay out of trouble."  But in Mexico City this was relentless, and much more aggressive than anything we saw in Brazil or Argentina.

After we got off the subway, my spirits improved.  There certainly was a lot to see. On our first full day in town, we visited the Basilica de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe; Helen took an amazing photo of devout parishioners crawling to the cathedral. 

We went from the spiritual to the low brow in less than 48 hours.  Friday night we attended lucha libre (the Mexican version of professional wrestling) at the Arena Mexico.  It's similar to the American model, except that almost all of the competitors wear masks.  And the lovely ladies at ringside gyrate on cue, whenever the camera takes an interest.

My favorite times were outside the city.  On Thursday we ventured to the lovely market town of Tepoztlan, which is the mythical birthplace of the god Quetzalcoatl and thus a strong reminder of pre-Hispanic Mexican civilization.  On Friday we attempted to climb the ancient pyramids at Teotihuacan--another powerful indication of Mexico's ancient heritage.

Saturday was our last full day in town, and we decided to canoe down the ancient canals at Xochimilco.  This is a venerable tradition for Mexico City's families; mariachi bands cruise the canal with you.  But despite the festive vibe, our experience left a bitter taste in my mouth.  The smooth-talking salesman fleeced us of four times the legal rate for our trip, a fact that we discovered after consulting our guidebook later.  This was infuriating, but a lesson learned.

Other interesting notes:  The anthropology museum in Chapultepec Park is world-class, and Mexico City has a fixation (still) on Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo.

Why is Mexico City third in the list?  Because the Brazilians are friendlier, and Buenos Aires has a cosmopolitan panache that leaves a warm glow two years later.  But this is third in a strong list, so I certainly recommend a visit if you get the chance and have the interest. 

The pictures below are a sample of Helen's excellent work, both in photography and in musicianship.  Visit here for the full set, and click on  "View as a Slideshow" to read the captions.

  

Berkeley Bound, and No American Prospect Writing Fellowship

In early March, I confidently proclaimed that Helen and I would be moving back to Evanston, IL, because she was going to Northwestern's Kellogg School of Management. We met in Evanston, as students at Northwestern.

A few weeks earlier than that, I shared the news that I had applied for a writing fellowship with the American Prospect.  The magazine is based in Washington DC.  If I had become a fellow I would have returned to a former home at the same time Helen ventured back to our first home together.

Well, times have changed.  On March 26--two months after Berkeley's Haas School of Business inexplicably put her on the waiting list--Helen was accepted into Berkeley.  On March 31, after several days of weighing which school was best for her, Helen made an impromptu decision to go to Berkeley. Very impromptu; I walked out of the shower that morning, and her mind was made up.  The lure of a West Coast location, at a school with an entrepreneurial focus, was more appealing than returning to somewhere familiar.

So OK--Helen was going to Berkeley.  I still didn't know about the American Prospect,  and now the prospect of a bi-coastal marriage loomed.   This seemed like the exact opposite of fun, but worth it in the long run because the Prospect offered an amazing entree into a life of full-time writing.

Today I learned that I won't be going to the Prospect as a writing fellow, via a kind (but generic) email.   It's a letdown after  spending  almost  six months on the application, and becoming very emotionally invested in the idea of writing for the magazine. 

But it's not the kick in the gut I feared.  Helen and I will be together, and we'll be in a new location for both of us.  In these waning days of life in New York City, the City's charms are not as evident as they once were, and the annoyances are much easier to identify.  Some left coast perspective should do us good.

Don Imus and the Duke Lacrosse Team

Don Imus should have been fired for calling the Rutgers women's basketball team a group of "nappy-headed hos." That's the end of the story, in one sense.

At the same time, we should acknowledge that Imus's tasteless crack is not in the same category as  Michael Richard's apoplectic use of the word "nigger" during his comedy routine, or Mel Gibson's drunken bellowing about Jews at the side of the road.

Imus's apologies were both sincere and insufficient.  Insufficient because he crossed the line by attacking the powerless, rather than satirizing the powerful.  But sincere too, because the white old man honestly believed he was showing some street cred.   Compare Michael Richard's  surreal apology on Letterman a few months ago with the genuine apologies offered by Imus, and the difference is clear.

The heroes in this story are the Rutgers women, who offered a classy press conference and accepted Imus's apology after he and his wife met with them last Thursday.   (On his way to attend that meeting, New Jersey governor Jon Corzine was seriously injured in a car crash.)  The chief villain is Imus.  But Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson aren't too far behind.  In the very same week that their activism against Imus proved successful, their specious case against the Duke lacrosse team officially fell apart.

Let's compare sins.  Imus insulted African-Americans, and to some extent all women, in a mere two words.  For more than a year now, the Reverends have traded in the stereotype that all white males with money are hungry to rape black women. 

DNA testing didn't matter; air tight alibis were of no consequence.  These men of God were on a mission to spread a lie.

Sharpton still hasn't apologized for the Tawana Brawley hoax of 1987, and he will never have the decency to apologize for the Duke slander either.  And as for Jackson, let's not forget his never fully explained depiction of New York as "Hymietown" in 1984.

In a nutshell: Imus received a proper comeuppance, but from people who did not have the moral authority to deliver it. 

Saturday Night Live this past weekend had a hilarious spoof of Jackson and Sharpton, who supposedly have plans to make room for Don Imus at their new "Wings of Hope Racist Rehabilitation Center."  Whenever they open that center, let's hope they check themselves in.

Home from Mexico City

We're home from Mexico City, on Monday afternoon instead of Sunday evening.  Due to terrible weather in the Northeast, we couldn't get to New York last night and spent the evening in Raleigh-Durham, NC.  The highlight was a 2:15 AM trip to the Waffle House.

Soon we will post pictures. It was definitely a fun trip.  And sure, I was annoyed at the inconvenience of not being home when I expected (especially considering that unanticipated hotel cost).  But on the cab ride home from LaGuardia this afternoon, I heard President Bush speak about the more than 30 people who lost their lives senselessly in the shooting rampage at Virginia Tech earlier today.  And I realized that my inconvenience did not matter. Not one little bit.

Mexico City Bound

Helen and I are off to Mexico City tomorrow morning! In less than eight hours we'll be on the plane.

May do some blogging down there, but maybe not.  Whatever happens, can't wait to post about it after we return.