GOTTA LOVE THE WEB

http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_lindsey_curating_humanity_s_heritage.html

I rarely surf the web.  I get on, find what I want and then get off.  But sometimes, God knows how, I end up somewhere that if you offered me a million dollars to remember how I got there, I would still be penniless.  This was such a day.

Somehow I ended up on a site called TED, TED.com to be exact (see above please).  TED stands for technology, entertainment and design.  Since its start, in the early eighties, it has developed into much more than that.  While glancing through the home page of this non-profit organization I noticed the high caliber of speakers they feature but what really caught my attention was they are each allotted 18 minutes or less, perfect for my attention span. 

I clicked on a lady named Elizabeth Lindsey, a National Geographic Fellow who studies and speaks of the value of preserving cultures around the world for their wealth of knowledge.  In the clip I watched her tell of a mariner from a small Micronesian island who navigates miles of ocean using only his intuition.  This is right up my alley to start with but what got my attention was Elizabeth’s statement that “It’s been said that when an elder dies, it’s as if a library is burned.”

What a profound statement!  While obviously true, I doubt of any of us have consciously thought  that every human being is a walking library.  Each possesses knowledge and experience unique to them.  As one ages the library expands. 

In her video Elizabeth speaks of a tiny island, one mile long and a half mile wide.  For centuries these islanders have sailed the seas in canoes without the navigational aids common to modern day mariners.  They would study the winds, currents and clouds to determine the right time to set sail on their journeys.  She eloquently made the case that this culture and many others have much to offer the world.  That we must not let these libraries close. 

Elizabeth is on a world tour this year to further her studies.  Thankfully there are people like her and others that have made it their mission to gather information for the rest of us.  Me, I’m content with my own little world, as I am sure most are, yet wouldn’t it be nice if we could learn more about our libraries.

Terry and I were recently guests of our granddaughter Kelly at their school on Grandparents Day.  One of her tasks was to introduce us to her class and tell them about us.  In preparation, she had called the night before and asked us a series of questions.  Where were we born, what we liked to do, what was our life’s work, did we have any brothers and sisters and a few other questions.  Reading from their notes, Kelly and the other’s, proudly told the class about their grandparents.  Terry and I were equally proud.

We loved it.  It also got me to thinking how little we know about those around us, even those quite close to us.  Each one is their own library.  Speaking for myself, I wish I had inquired more about some of my relatives who are now gone or maybe been a little more inquisitive at our family gatherings.  I learned later in life, for example, that I had a cousin who lied about his age so he could join the Army in the latter stages of World War II.  His mother grudgingly signed his consent form.  He was killed in Germany one week before the war ended. 

I am sure each of us knows libraries filled with fascinating bits of information.  It might be informative, rewarding and fascinating to read a book once in a while.  Kelly and her classmates are on the right track.        

DOO WOP

I got home late last night, plopped into my TV chair, flipped around the channels without finding anything that stirred me and went to Plan B.  Plan B is when none of my first choices are on and I’m in scramble mode to find something of interest.  I clicked on an already started public television show on the Doo Wop music of the 50’s and early 60’s.  We called it rock and roll then but Doo Wop seems to be the term these days. 

These were my high school and college years so the pleasant memory portion of my brain kicked into high gear.  Granted they are the year’s most of us accumulate especially vivid memories but damn, those years produced some great music. 

As song after song was performed, often by the original group, there was a dominate theme.  Romance, be it loving someone, missing someone, hand holding or wedding bells, it all related to romance.  Songs such as In the Still of the Night, A Thousand Stars, Little Darlin, and the anthem of the day, Earth Angel.  There was the harmonizing of The Platters and Drifters, and the synchronized moves of The Coasters, The Cadillac’s and others in brightly colored suits.  Shots of the audience confirmed romance was in the air as couples were taken back to school dances and slowly swaying back and forth on a darkened dance floor.

I love music of all types and I try hard to appreciate the sounds of each generation.  The big band sound of the war years, the protest songs of the late sixties, the Saturday Night Fever fad of the seventies, the Michael Jackson and Madonna era and more recently, the Hip Hop/Rap sounds.  I admit, each has its thing, but when it comes to songs about love, I’ll take the early rock and roll days. 

Each of these generations, at some point, will be old enough that their music will be in the “Oldies but Goodies” category, as mine is now.  I wonder if they will be able to sit in a chair late at night, as I did, and be taken back to good times and good memories, revolving around love.   

I sure hope so but I am worried about the current trend.  When their music is in the OBG category what kind of flashbacks will they have?  First off, I cringe at the thought of rap artists of today, such as Ice Cube, gyrating around the stage at the age of 65 plus.  Secondly, if they can pull off the gyrating, will they be able to remember the novel length lyrics?  Maybe the artist can but I doubt if you will.  How will you be able to sing along?  Can you picture you and your friends on karaoke night?  And seriously, will Eminem, Grand Master Flash and the Furious 5 and Notorious B. I. G. make you long for the old days.  Maybe if you knocked off the corner grocery store or pistol whipped your girl friend. 

I’ll be the first to admit that the low, low base sound of rap is infectious and gets me bobbing my head back and forth and trying to shrug my shoulders like I have some sense of soul, but romantic it’s not.          

 

     

THE ALBATROSS

We had reached the southern end of our fishing trip and were headed home.  After a two month journey of close to 5,000 miles we had dropped anchor in Callao, Peru and spent a few days in nearby Lima.  After clearing customs, we pulled anchor, left the harbor and pointed our bow north just before darkness set in.  Our next stop would be Cabo Blanco, some 600 miles up the coast.

The next morning we were well off shore and heading directly into a head sea pushed by winds of some 30 knots.  Our 110 foot boat would rise as it rode over a wave, then dive into the next, throwing spray everywhere.  We had gotten used to such weather and everyone on board found a comfortable niche to ride it out.  Mine was in the all glass wheelhouse where I could observe the ocean in all its majesty. 

It was my turn on watch.  It was up to me to keep an eye on all the instruments, make sure we stayed on course and scan the horizon for other vessels.  As I looked behind us I saw this magnificent albatross some 200 yards back, in our wake.  He was effortlessly gliding over the waves, slowly crossing from side to side.  Even though they have the coloring of a sea gull there is no mistaking the albatross for anything but what it is.  A recent National Geographic magazine said this: “A parent albatross may fly more than 10,000 miles to deliver one meal to its chick.  Wielding the longest wings in nature-up to eleven and a half feet-albatrosses can glide hundreds of miles without flapping, crossing ocean basins, circumnavigating the glove.  A 50-year-old albatross has flown, at least, 3.7 million miles.”  

As the day wore on the bird trailed behind, keeping its distance, mostly inches from the water, occasionally swooping higher as if to take a look around then descending again to wave height.  As darkness fell he disappeared from sight. 

After breakfast the next morning I ascended to the wheelhouse, looked aft, and there he was, still trailing in our wake.  At lunch time I threw a few bits of food off the transom, followed them with my eyes until he picked them off with a mere dip of his head. 

As the afternoon wore on he gradually approached closer and closer.  All hands were now on deck watching as he finally rose above us and then, with a spread of his enormous wings, descended to land on the railing around the deck.  Seemingly pleased with himself he surveyed us as we stared in amazement. 

Not wanting to spook him, we carefully placed food at a safe distance. 

The next morning I could not wait to get to the wheelhouse and see if our passenger was still with us.  He was and the food was gone.  

  

As we approached Cabo Blanco and perhaps sensing we were nearing land, the great bird decided to leave.  Fortunately I was looking right at him when he slowly spread his wings, tilted them at an angle to catch the wind, and then gradually rose above us.  Once clear of our boat, he dipped his left wing, swooped down close to the surface of the water and was gone. 

The journey of some 400 mile with this creature is a very special memory.  If it is possible to have a bird as a soul mate, this one was mine.