Monday, June 29, 2009 
Freely Speaking Toastmasters

The Toastmasters year closes tomorrow. We held our Annual Meeting tonight at Freely Speaking Toastmasters and elected a new set of officers. One new person was elected to the board, replacing the one person who stepped down, but everyone except the VP Education and the Webmaster changed roles. I am the outgoing Secretary and the incoming Treasurer, and I also continue as the Webmaster.

posted on Tuesday, June 30, 2009 6:51:21 AM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00) 
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Monday, April 20, 2009 
How to Eat a Slug

I gave a poetry reading tonight, of Frank Maloney's poems. I'm working through a book of Interpretive Reading projects at Freely Speaking Toastmasters. I had to read some poetry for tonight's project and Frank's work was an obvious choice. (Had I remembered, I would have recorded the reading and made a podcast.)

Frank was most active as a poet in the 1970s when he published his collection, How to Eat a Slug.

Six poems follow that give a taste of his work. The material in [square brackets] I omitted from the reading.

The Illiterate Calligrapher

Frank was long interested in Chinese and Japanese art and he used to paint watercolors.

I am learning to write a language I cannot read.
A few ideas get through:
The character for heart beats truer than a valentine;
For bamboo, the node is enough.

Use erodes the pictures like old mountains,
Scrapes them clean as a hide,
Clean as the glacier’s tracks, down to bedrock, the core.

[Where I live all is new and getting newer.
The cities, their people: a century is about all we can claim.

[The Salish, the Nootkas with a longer reach,
Like their cedar always renewed,
Became their salmon.

[Even the mountains still rise and stretch,
Unfinished, raw, & unreadable.]

Twelve strokes, movements: suspended needle,
Playing butterfly, and phoenix-wing hook.
Ink ballets make a few hundred radicals, the roots
Of K’ung Fu-tze and Mao Tse-tung.

I copy out a commonplace by rote,
Like watching the wave and not seeing the fish.

Alice to Dorothy

A letter from Alice, of Wonderland, to Dorothy, of Oz.

with apologies to Melinda Mueller
It could be spring back in England,
If that is the direction;
for all I know it is just around the dogleg in this road
That does not seem to know its mind.
Perhaps it’s behind a bush.
I try not to step on things;
England might be under a dry leaf,
Buried in the whorls of a snail,
Or it may never have happened at all.

I get muddled when I try to think
But one does hear rumours. I am sure you must.
How we got back.
I read it in a book I found here.
Seems I was real and you a character,
But as for that I think we both behaved well.
I grew up and died; you came back in sequels.
Yet here I am; I know I saw you once
Across a hedgerow. I tried to wave, to catch your eye.
[The air’s as thick as boxwood.]

I felt we had a lot to talk about.
I imagine you were busy with some adventure.

In any case, you did not see me or choose to wave.
Please answer this letter. I am lonely rather.
They did not let me take Dinah,
And cats can be quite a comfort.
You have Toto, and dogs are such great company.
And your friends. They do not make good friends here.

It is a pretty place once you get used to it.
Things are much more here
Than they ever were back there.
A queer sort of hereness that makes it
Thicker, taller, brighter, faster.

Sometimes I feel all shadows & cobwebs,
Just as if I were a puff of smoke
That everyone wanted to blow away.

I cannot ever go away.
I am beginning to doubt there is anyplace to go.
Wonderland & Beyond the Looking Glass
Are the same place, like some great countryseat:
Wings, floors, tourelles, crofts;
The maze, the amble, outbuildings, the ruins.
I know now it is all the same,
The same small place.

When you read this, stop.
Do not let them push you down the road.
Oh, I hear stories how that Mr Baum drives you all;
The Rev. Mr Dodgson wanted a lot more from me,
But I put my foot down.
I was quite insistent I had done my share.

Plant your feet and refuse to stir.
Refuse all enticements, all threats.
They shan’t harm you.
Without you, where would they be?
Rusting in a woodlot yet,
Mulching the cornfield by now.

As soon as I finish this letter,
I shan’t move again, not a muscle.
Then we shall surely sift together
Like leaves under some great ash.

Wait for me. I need to talk
To talk to someone who doesn’t know any riddles.
Your friend / Alice.

No Music

Frank was a lifelong subscriber to National Geographic.

"Giraffes frequently cry, but they make no noise." —Associated Press, 22 Sept 1977

There are rules for living at great heights
Giraffes must stoop, not bend, to keep light.

Keep your footing and your head;
Never know a soft, low bed,
Lope a snaking, heaving

Neck; loll acacia's thorny leaves.
Preserve a mottled dignity despite the horns,
Useless as a Caddy's fins. Mourn
With un-African silence that none takes quite seriously:
The tactless taxonomist who herds you
With the unspeakable okapi;
Or the Romans who failed to catch your gentilesse
And called you the monster Cameleopardis.

You know you're head and tail above our carnival,
But man & nature have given you a nasty fall.
You broke a rule, you accept the price.
Yet these damned meddlers, these graceless lice,
Would wrap & hoist you, would interfere,
And in the end raise you to the jeers
Of little men who find their fun
In mocking him who dies for love.
—Frank R. Maloney.
September 1977.
Published: Blue Heron Press.

The next two poems were written in August 2008, weeks before Frank's final illness.

For Peggy Maloney, 1915 - 1991

Frank's relationship with his mother was ... fraught.

You hated your real name, Iva Belle.
Was it too Southern for your northern life?
Too rustic for the Hupmobiles and roadhouses of Boise?
You never said why.

So much you never told me; what did you think your job was?
You knew guitar, never offered to teach me.
Your first husband died impaled on his steering wheel
With you trapped beside him.
You waited until the last year of your life to mention it.

You held your secrets tighter than an oyster its pearl,
Than an octopus its crab, than a tree its ground.

Night and false dawn lit your lies and evasions.
What rainy day were you saving your truths for?
Did the Depression teach you to hold fast
To the truth like a job, any job, whatever the wages?

I admit you taught me many skills,
Like how to be afraid of change, of novelty, of life.
Your legacy: worry, insecurity, withdrawal, resentment, and unforgiveness.
I am your son, despite all my denials. When I am scared and nervous,
My left hand flaps like a landed fish even yours did.
I buy love by forcing food on guests. I wield silence like a stiletto.

Did you know that I stopped liking you
Long before you died? I assume I loved you.
Sons love their mothers, don’t they?

You died long before your heart stopped,
When you retired to your TV, Pall Malls, and Yuban
In the mug you never scoured.
To the apartment by the lake you never walked to.

You dropped all the friends who wanted to be close,
Waited for the son who only wanted to get away.

You taught me how to be sad,
How to waste a life,
To pull back and grow a shell,
To wait for high tide.
—Frank R. Maloney.
August 14 2008.

Black Cats & Broken Gates

Frank and his partner of more than 30 years, Lyndol, had a long succession of cats. The two most recent are Princess and Blackie.

In the half-hay summer grass, a black cat rolls
This way and that, relaxed, warm, and safe
Behind a fence. The gate never latches on its own,
Hangs slightly askew, is watched over
By two tutelary aluminum cocker spaniels.

These are complications not native to a black cat’s thinking.
In the shade of the vast holly tree,
The grass stays green enough to nibble,
The shade warm enough to sprawl against,
And a human hand close enough to scratch his head.

The black cat gets up, wanders off into the overgrown field,
Exploring again what he has patrolled daily for five years.
Routine is what he thrives on.
Now is the season for lurking, for hunting fat grasshoppers,
Not for fretting over broken gates.

The human sits in that same brown & green yard,
Sketches the broken gate & its blind guardians,
Preserving in his way the moment,
Its still, black-cat perfection, not in the sketch,
But there in its perfect absence.
—Frank R. Maloney.
August 5 2008.

Finally, a bonus. I didn't read it, but people tonight were intrigued by the title.

How to Eat a Slug

The hardest part is holding it.
A joy to drop the curl into steam, parboil it.
Quickly, vengefully.

Drain the melted snot away from creek or brake.
You run your knife along its belly;
Peel off the jaundice, the liver spots,
The curving leprosy.
Shut your eyes and thrust a thumb
Into the half-congealed guts.

What’s left is firm, white, and altogether mild.
Garlic, butter, and you’ve escargot.
You’ve earned your appetite.
—Frank R. Maloney.
12 August 1972.
(revised 1 December 2008)
posted on Monday, April 20, 2009 7:16:39 AM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00) 
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Monday, April 13, 2009 
Table Topics Strategies

A Toastmasters meeting has three parts: prepared speeches, table topics, and evaluations of the prepared speeches.

Table Topics offer a chance for those present to wing it on some topic for one or two minutes. The Table Topics Master sets up the topics and the speaker has as most a few minutes to prepare.

Sometimes, when I'm running Table Topics, I present a topic for everyone at the beginning of the section. On a winter's day, I might ask people to tell us about some favorite food they associate with winter. Or I might ask them to tell us about where they're going for their summer vacation.

At other times, I spring the topic on the speaker after they've volunteered. Tonight at Freely Speaking, I had two envelopes filled with slips of paper. One envelope had names of people, the other was some dastardly crime. I told them that they had to plead their case before a judge, the school principal, Oprah, or some court of opinion. Perhaps plead for mercy or maybe proclaim their innocence.

The People

  • Snow White
  • The Big Bad Wolf
  • CEO of AIG
  • Charlie Brown
  • George W. Bush
  • Tom Cruise
  • Sherlock Holmes
  • Dorothy (from Kansas & Oz)
  • Joan Crawford
  • Sarah Palin
  • Bill Gates
  • Dolly Parton
  • Mr. Spock
  • Simon Cowell
  • Barney (purple dinosaur)

The Actions

  • Pulling your little sister's hair
  • Being an insufferable jerk
  • Blowing the Three Little Pigs' House Down
  • Doing 90mph in a 40mph zone
  • Cheating at cards
  • Cheating on your partner
  • Kicking a dog
  • Swindling old ladies
  • Plagiarizing your assignment from the Internet
  • Amputating the wrong leg of the patient
  • Beating up the small kids for their lunch money
  • Pushing Humpty Dumpty off the wall
  • Jaywalking
  • Tying the heroine to the train tracks
  • Telling offensive jokes

Miranda opened as Joan Crawford, plagiarizing her assignment from the Internet, and skilfully evaded the question by channeling Mother Dearest on the rampage. Phil was Bill Gates, swindling old ladies with a crooked version of Windows. Barry was an arrogant Mr. Spock, who did 90mph in a 40mph zone in his spaceship. John was on his knees as Charlie Brown, pathetically denying that he beat up the small kids for their lunch money. Guillaume spoke as Dorothy who had dreamt of blowing the Three Little Pigs' house down and waking to find her own house flattened by a tornado. Kim explained away Sherlock Holmes, cheating at cards. Joe was Simon Cowell, claiming that being an insufferable jerk helped toughen up American Idol competitors. Don was the CEO of AIG, on trial for tying the heroine to the train tracks, who thought it was ridiculous and that he should have been on trial for more serious crimes. Barb closed as Sarah Palin, who had pulled her little sister's hair, an act of family values.

posted on Tuesday, April 14, 2009 5:44:14 AM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00) 
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Friday, March 27, 2009 
Toastmasters Competition

I've been to a few Toastmasters competitions in the past. Tonight was the first time that I helped out at one, as one of the timers. It was the combined Area 35 and 36 competition.

A typical Toastmasters competition has two parts, a speech competition and an evaluation competition. In the speech competition, the competitors give a prepared speech on a topic of their own choosing. Some speech competitions are humorous; tonight's wasn't. In the evaluation competition, the invited speaker gives a speech heard by all the competitors. They are taken out of the room, then one at a time, they come back in and evaluate that speech.

The speech competition is always fun. You get to hear several good speeches. I heard speeches tonight about a teenage boxing experience, watching a mother's peaceful death in a hospice, our collective obsession with "better", and choosing a high school for a son.

In the evaluation competition, it's interesting to hear different people's take on the same speech.

posted on Saturday, March 28, 2009 6:58:19 AM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00) 
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Monday, February 23, 2009 
Programming Sudoku
Title: Programming Sudoku
Author: Wei-Ming Lee
Rating: 2.5 stars out of 5
Publisher: Apress
Copyright: 2006
Pages: 214
Keywords: programming, introductory
Reading period: 22 February, 2009

I was Toastmaster of the Day at this evening's meeting of Freely Speaking Toastmasters. My theme was software development and I wanted to give the non-developer audience a taste for what it's like to write a program. I talked about writing a simple Sudoku game.

Yesterday, I read Programming Sudoku for background. I bought this book for Emma after reading about it on Scott Hanselman's blog. It's targeted at beginning programmers and walks them through building a Sudoku game and solver. I was hoping to get Emma more interested in programming–unsuccessfully. She found it repetitious and a little confusing, and she found some typos in the code.

Pedagogically, the book is good. It starts by creating a simple WinForms application in Visual Basic to play a Sudoku game. Then it builds a solver for simple games and refines the solver to handle harder games. Next, it adds a puzzle generator. It concludes with a brief chapter on a similar game, Kakuro. The explanation of gameplay is clear; the approach seems reasonable.

The code, however, is horrible. It's ugly, it's verbose, and it's repetitive. Consider that the code for doing some operation to a row is almost identical to doing the same operation to a column, but no attempt is made to abstract such operations into helper functions.

Or how about this unexplained fragment to see if a column is complete, which is repeated often, with minor variations:

pattern = "123456789"
For r = 1 To 9
    pattern = pattern.Replace(actual(c,r).ToString(), String.Empty)
Next
If pattern.Length > 0 Then
    Return False
End If

To me, it's obvious that this is a poor man's set difference operation. To a novice programmer, I doubt it.

Examples should be exemplary and held to a higher standard than code that is not intended for public view. All too often, sample code ends up in production. When I wrote samples for classic ASP, I took care to make them good code.

The book is short. The author could have shown some ugly code as an initial solution, then cleaned it up and explained why the new code was better. That would have done his readers a greater service.

I cannot recommend this book to novices: they won't learn good habits from it.

posted on Monday, February 23, 2009 8:20:16 AM (Pacific Standard Time, UTC-08:00) 
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Monday, February 09, 2009 
Facebook Groups

As you can see from the attached picture, I just created Facebook Groups for three social organizations that I'm involved in: Freely Speaking Toastmasters, Wild Geese Players of Seattle, and BiNet Seattle.

I set up a LinkedIn group for FSTM too.

posted on Tuesday, February 10, 2009 7:47:24 AM (Pacific Standard Time, UTC-08:00) 
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Monday, November 10, 2008 
Freely Speaking Toastmasters

I'm the Secretary/Webmaster of Freely Speaking Toastmasters, a club whose membership is primarily LGBT, but is open to all. We were chartered in September 1988. I joined in 2004, after I left Microsoft and hence Microsoft Toastmasters.

We're so proud of being 20 years old that we've celebrated twice! We had a brunch for the current membership back in September, and tonight we had a party for current, former, and would-be members.

Not a huge turnout, but a lot of fun. Many of us spoke about what had drawn us to FSTM and what set it apart from other clubs for us.

I've been a member (and officer) of three Toastmasters clubs, FSTM, Microsoft Toastmasters, and Atlas Impressions—a club that I helped found last year, before I left Atlas. The two work clubs are fine in their own right, but each of them allots only an hour for the meeting, which is only barely enough. FSTM meets 7:00–8:30pm on Monday evenings at Group Health on Capitol Hill, and the extra half hour allows for a more relaxed pace. In particular, not only does each prepared speech get a formal evaluation, it also gets five minutes of open evaluation from the audience. The open evaluation is unusual in Toastmasters clubs. I feel that it engages the audience and it invariably gives rise to several suggestions and criticisms that the evaluator overlooked. FSTM is much more social than the two work clubs, and the membership is rather more diverse than high-tech workers.

posted on Tuesday, November 11, 2008 7:45:19 AM (Pacific Standard Time, UTC-08:00) 
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Monday, January 08, 2007 

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I gave a speech at Freely Speaking Toastmasters this evening, on Mind Mapping. You can see a shrunken version of the mind map for the speech above. Clicking on it will lead to the full-sized image.

I created the mind map with Freemind. Here's the speech mindmap as a Freemind document.

I thought the speech went quite well. It was speech #8, working with visual aids. I drew a partial version of my speech's mind map on a white board ahead of time, and drew a couple of mind maps on a flip chart during the speech. The second one was a two-minute brainstorming session on increasing club membership.

I had intended to record the speech and turn it into a podcast, but I forgot.

Usually, I write out the words of the speech ahead of time, rehearse it several times, fine-tuning the words, and then deliver the speech from a handful of notes.

This time, I never wrote down anything except the mind map itself. I did have a printout of the map in front of me, though I didn't refer to it often.

posted on Tuesday, January 09, 2007 7:46:09 AM (Pacific Standard Time, UTC-08:00) 
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Tuesday, October 07, 2003 

http://ec1.images-amazon.com/images/P/0810140101.01._AA240_SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg

(Originally posted to Toastmasters at EraBlog on Tue, 07 Oct 2003 06:53:32 GMT)

I gave the following speech to Toastmasters on October 1st, 2003, as Speech #5, "Vocal Variety".

SPOLIN GAMES

Spolin Games. That sounds like it could be a new set of titles for the Xbox.

Far from it.

The Spolin Games are a set of improv theater games invented by Viola Spolin in the nineteen-thirties, and refined by her for the next six decades. These games are used in improvisational work, to help bring out creativity and spontaneity. Viola's son, Paul Sills, founded the Second City improv theater company in Chicago back in the nineteen-fifties.

I was first introduced to the Spolin Games last year. Two friends of mine are actors. They had both become involved with a local improv troupe, the Spolin Players, who have occasional runs at the Northwest Actors Studio, at 11th and Pike, in Seattle.

I got interested enough that I later took an improv class from the troupe's director, Gary Schwartz.

I've been to several shows put on by the Spolin Players. Each one is quite different. During a show, they'll play a dozen or so games, from their repertoire. Usually, there are six-to-eight actors from the troupe.

The show often opens with a game called Emotional Symphony. Each player is assigned an emotion by the audience, such as fear (oh no! I'm terrified! I just want to hide!); lust (ooh, baby! You're hot!); anger (I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!); or confusion (but, but, but, I don't understand). The director acts like a conductor, pushing the players through an overture, bringing them in louder and softer, growing in a crescendo to a climax!

This energizes the players and wakes up the audience.

The Gibberish Relay is another game that's usually played early on. Three players sit on chairs at the front of the stage. The one on the left speaks one dialect of gibberish, the one on the right speaks a different variety, the one in the middle interprets.

Left (tapping wrist): Herk, koffa picku? Akno bigu karpak! Interpreter: Say, what's the time? My watch has stopped! Right (rubbing tummy): Maru plenio seletto bulioni. Molto chiani. Interpreter: It must be lunchtime. I'm hungry. Left: Plokka kaloka, ragutz ni globbak. Interpreter: In my country, we never eat lunch. And so on.

After a minute, one of the players leaves, the other two shift over, and a new player joins them, until the entire cast has cycled through each role.

One crucial element was missing from the demonstration that I just gave you. Spontaneity! In a real game of Gibberish Relay, none of the three players know what's going to happen next. They're feeding off each other, creating a scene out of whole cloth. They're off-balance and they're fully engaged. It's like going to a sports game. You don't know what's going to happen next or who's going to win. The not-knowing keeps you interested and in the moment. There's give-and-take at play. Each player is following the other's lead. Surprise is the gift that playing produces.

Magic Music is another game that's often played. One of the players is sent offstage, out of earshot. The audience decides a complex task that the player must accomplish on a prop-laden stage, such as climbing onto a chair, turning counterclockwise, and putting a flowerpot on their head. When the player returns, the audience are singing a simple song, such as "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." The audience sings louder as the player grows "warm" and softer as the player gets "cold", until the player figures out what to do. Often, the game is repeated with a volunteer from the audience.

The game of Camera involves focus. The audience decides upon a scene for two of the players, such as a teacher and a parent, or two people in line for a concert, or a mugger and a vigilante. As the two players work through the scene, the director calls out "Camera!", alternating between the two players, "Both camera!", and "No camera!". For "George Camera!", I would look intently at the other player, as if I were a TV camera, tracking her every move. For "Mary Camera!", Mary would look intently at me, while I would play the scene naturally as if there were no camera at all. The act of focussing heightens the scene.

Now, let's demonstrate one game, Last-Letter Expert, with the help of Phil here.

In Last-Letter Expert, I am a genius who can expound on any topic of your choosing. The only catch is that my brain is so overpowered that it seizes up occasionally in mid-sentence. My assistant Phil will interject a word to help me out. I have to use the LAST letter of his word as the FIRST letter of my next word. So if I were to say, "There are many varieties of ice cream that ..." and Phil says "suddenly", then I have to pick a word that starts with the letter "Y" and continue from there, like "Yelp loudly" or "Yet delightfully".

Please, give me a topic, such as volcanoes, shoelaces, ice cream, walking on your hands, daffodil farming, the color yellow, ...

[Reconstructed from a recording. Phil hadn't quite got the idea of Last-Letter Expert. The interjected word should make some kind of sense in the context of the preceding sentences. "Tempest" was the Word of the Day.]

Audience: Chairs!

George: Chairs. Fellow members of the audience, chairs have been used since time immemorial. They are extremely...

Phil: Repairman

George: Nowadays, we. Repairman? Nowadays, we sit on them. In times past, chairs were used to elevate people above the common level of ...

Phil: Soda machines

George: so that you could do something extremely silly like this. And...

Phil: Tempest

George: To begin again, without such useful help, I would like to say that chairs are...

Phil: Flat

George: Therefore, they are very easy to sit upon.

But enough of that. We're running out of time.

Viola Spolin's work is used by many actors and directors to help increase their creativity. There are many other games, but I don't have time to describe them here. Go to spolin.com if you're interested in learning more. S-P-O-L-I-N. Spolin.

I was also the Table Topics Master for that meeting. We played Last-Letter Expert. It took a while for people to get the hang of the game, but it was a big hit.

posted on Tuesday, October 07, 2003 9:20:30 AM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00) 
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Monday, July 07, 2003 

http://images.12travel.com/images/bloomsday_joyce.jpg

(Originally posted to Home at EraBlog on Mon, 07 Jul 2003 15:34:22 GMT)

I gave the following speech to Toastmasters on June 25th, 2003, as Speech #4, "Show What You Mean". Clearly, I've reused some material from my earlier post about Bloomsday. I'm also finding that I take longer to deliver a speech to an audience than I do when rehearsing, so I cut some of the material on the day to fit the seven-minute limit.

I've uploaded some photos of the reading to one of my other websites.

BLOOMSDAY

"Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather..."

So begins James Joyce's Ulysses, one of the most famous, and famously difficult, novels of the Twentieth Century. The book is by turns funny, obscure, insightful, and irritating.

The whole book takes place in Dublin on June 16th, 1904 and tells of the wanderings of Leopold Bloom, a middle-aged Irish Jew, and of Stephen Dedalus, a young writer who is Joyce's alter ego.

Nowadays, there is a thriving Joycean industry in Ireland, that re-enacts portions of the book on Bloomsday, June 16th, the anniversary of Ulysses.

Next year is the centenary and you can be sure that the Joycean industry will make the most of the occasion. Ireland loves Joyce now: he helps bring in the tourist dollars.

This wasn't always true. Ulysses was banned in Ireland until the 1960s. It was considered obscene, pornographic, and profane. It's true that Joyce was an apostate Catholic who mocked the Church and that he was unusually frank about lust, sex, and excretion, but the novel is undoubtedly a work of literature, not mere base titillation.

Ulysses was also banned in the United States when it was first published in 1922 because it was considered pornographic. That ban was overturned in 1933.

Bloomsday is celebrated outside Ireland too. In many cities around the world, you will find groups of Joyce fans celebrating on June 16th. In Seattle, the Wild Geese Players have been staging readings of Ulysses for the last few years. This year, I joined them.

We staged readings from Chapters 8 and 9 at the Brechemin Auditorium in the School of Music at the University of Washington. We had a cast of about fifteen readers who read aloud from scripts, acting the parts of various characters. We were watched by about forty people, only half of whom were related to the cast.

Ulysses is very loosely modeled on Homer's Odyssey, the classic Greek epic, which tells of the wanderings of Odysseus, who took ten years to return home from the siege of Troy. (Ulysses is the Roman name for Odysseus.) Each chapter of Ulysses roughly corresponds to a book of the Odyssey. Each chapter is written in a very different style. Leopold Bloom represents Odysseus the wanderer, while Stephen Dedalus represents Telemachus, Odysseus's son, and Molly Bloom represents Penelope, Odysseus's wife.

Chapter 8 of Ulysses is The Lestrygonians. In the Odyssey, the Lestrygonians are foul cannibals who threaten Odysseus's crew. In Ulysses, Bloom wanders southwards through the center of Dublin, encountering sights, smells, food, and drink as he goes. He enters one pub in search of lunch, but is repulsed by the gorging and gluttony of the customers. He moves to Davy Byrne's pub, where he eats a calm lunch. Bloom's interior monologue takes up most of the chapter, as he observes people and places on his walk. There are a number of encounters along the way.

This chapter was difficult to stage. Bloom moves from one encounter to another. We had perhaps twenty scenes in ninety minutes. I myself played four minor characters.

I came on first as Denis Breen, the half-mad husband of Mrs. Breen, whom Bloom has spent the last five minutes talking to in the street. I shuffle unseeing across the stage, muttering to myself, clutching an enormous tome to my chest. A real stretch!

A few minutes later, when Bloom is recalling a pro-Boer student riot at Trinity College Dublin, I return, playing the part of one of those students. Wrapped in my old Trinity scarf, I stride onto the stage bellowing such slogans as "Up the Boers!" and "We'll hang Joe Chamberlain on a sourapple tree!" It wakes the audience up nicely.

For my third part, I play the barman in the first pub that Bloom enters, the one that soon repels him. I get to utter in my best working-class Dublin accent such memorable lines as "Roast beef and cabbage", "One stew", and "Pint of stout", while serving some of the customers.

My final role in this chapter was slightly meatier. I played Tom Rochford, one of a trio who enter Davy Byrne's pub as Bloom is eating his lunch. We stand around, ordering drinks and arguing about horse racing.

Chapter 9 of Ulysses is Scylla and Charybdis. In the Odyssey, Scylla is a six-headed monster, while Charybdis is a whirlpool. In Ulysses, these dangers are metaphorical, as the journey becomes becalmed in the literary debate between Stephen Dedalus and other writers of the day, We are subjected to torrents of language, in lyric, in dramatic, in verse, and in prose form, as well as Stephen's interior monologue. The debate wanders through the life of Shakespeare, especially his relationship with Ann Hathaway; Shakespeare's work, particularly Hamlet; and the nature of father/son relationships.

This chapter was much easier to stage, if harder to follow. Almost the whole chapter takes place around some tables in the National Library. We sat mostly, although we did stand for the Hamletesque play within the play, and Buck Mulligan wanders around poking into things.

I read the smallest of the main roles in this chapter, that of Mr Best, an inoffensive young man in the mold of Bertie Wooster, who can't quite hold his own in the debate that rages between Stephen and the other writers.

He says such things as "But Hamlet is so personal, isn't it? I mean a kind of private paper, don't you know, of [Shakespeare's] private life. I mean I don't care a button, don't you know, who is killed or who is guilty..."

I enjoyed myself that night. I hope I have conveyed something of the flavor of the evening, if not much of the book itself. That's difficult to do without reading aloud passages from the book, and this speech format doesn't lend itself to that.

Cut due to lack of time

Several times in the last 20 years, I have attempted to read Ulysses. Always before, I gave up in the first half of the book. Some of it is very difficult, especially when Joyce is playing with language.

I'm rereading the book once again. I've not yet finished it but I've gotten further than I ever did before. I've learned two tricks. The first is not to give up if a section doesn't make sense. Just keep going. It'll get more enjoyable. I don't think it all makes sense to anyone on the first reading. The second trick is that sounds are very important. Joyce was a poet. Subvocalize or speak aloud the odder bits and the music will come through.

It is said that Ulysses is the most difficult of the entertaining books and the most entertaining of the difficult books.

posted on Monday, July 07, 2003 9:13:25 AM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00) 
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Friday, May 16, 2003 

http://www.archives.gov/genealogy/images/naturalization-m.jpg

(Originally posted to Toastmasters at EraBlog on Fri, 16 May 2003 06:06:39 GMT)

I gave the following speech to Toastmasters on January 29th, 2003, as Speech #2, "Sincerity".

NATURALIZATION

Fellow Toastmasters and Guests, last September, on the first anniversary of 9/11, I made one of the biggest decisions of my life: I decided to apply for American citizenship, to become naturalized.

Like many of you, I am an immigrant. I have spent most of my adult life in this country. Fourteen years ago, I came to the US from Ireland to earn a Masters degree. I moved to Seattle in 1992, the same year that I became a permanent resident. I have made a career here, as well as many ties: those of friends, of family, and of assets. I met my wife here five years ago; together we have bought a lovely house in Seattle.

My two brothers became US citizens last year. Apart from my parents and some friends in Dublin, my ties to Ireland grow weaker every year. I have changed and grown since I came here and Ireland has changed too. It's noticeably different from the country that I left, both better and worse. I am still proud of being Irish, but I expect to spend the rest of my life living in America.

It might seem to you that it should have been an obvious decision for me to become a US citizen. Indeed, you might ask why I didn't do it much sooner. But this was not an easy decision for me. I dithered about it for years. Only my decision to come out of the closet as a bisexual in '91 was harder.

I put this decision off for so long because I have misgivings about America, the swaggering bully of the world, about the outrageous consumption of the planet's resources, about the arrogance and complacency of so many Americans who uncritically believe that America is better than anywhere else.

I am leery of American patriotism because it is so often identified with conformity, blind nationalism, and militarism. America: Love It or Leave It! My Country, Right or Wrong!

I am appalled by a rich country leaving 41 million of its citizens without health insurance. I am troubled by the intolerance and power of the Religious Right. I have no liking for the Bush administration, their war mongering, their unilateralism, their crony capitalism, their disregard for the environment, their abrogation of rights in the name of security.

This litany is so depressing that you must be wondering by now not why it took me so long to apply for citizenship, but why I haven't fled to a more congenial country.

I want to become an American because I believe in the promise of America, in the ideals of the Founding Fathers: the inalienable rights of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. I believe in the Bill of Rights, in Freedom of Speech, and in the Separation of Church and State.

I want to become an American because for all of its flaws, America has so much in its favor. This is a beautiful country, full of millions of the nicest people you'd ever want to meet. Many of them are working hard to build a better society. America provides great freedoms and opportunities, not just to make money but to remake oneself.

Freedom of speech is taken seriously here: Europe has chilling libel laws instead of the First Amendment. In the US, I have the right to dissent. I can call the Clintons foul fiends from Hell or write that Bush is a dangerous dolt, without fear that the secret police will kick down my door one night and haul me off to the gulag. This is why Operation TIPS and the Pentagon's Office of Total Information Awareness are so unAmerican.

In Ireland, the Catholic Church had a "special position" written into the Constitution for several decades, though its authority has been much diminished in recent years. In America, the principle of Separation of Church and State means that I am free to be a godless atheist and my wife is free to be a Wiccan. Some people may object to that, but the state does not privilege their religious beliefs over mine, nor mine over theirs.

No other country has come close to the technological ferment of Silicon Valley. Only in America could Microsoft have been such a success. The Internet was born here and still remains deeply American. My early exposure to the Net in the mid-to-late Eighties played a big part in my initial decision to come here.

Millions of people move here every year, making America the most heterogenous society in the world. For all of its flaws, this is a good place to be! There is no perfect country! Every country, every nation has problems.

Permanent residents have all the responsibilities of citizenship, save that of jury duty. I pay taxes, I am subject to the laws of this country. Had I been slightly younger when I got my green card, I would have been required to register for the draft.

As a permanent resident, I also have many rights in the US. But there is one right that I do not have, perhaps the most important right of all: the vote. I have been of voting age for almost 20 years, but I have only once had the opportunity to vote in a national election in Ireland or the U.S, seventeen years ago in 1986.

Even though I have been active in the community for many years, giving time and money to causes that I care about, I diminish myself by forgoing the full experience of being an American.

Like many others, I found the events of 9/11 profoundly disturbing. I was heartened when the country pulled together afterwards, then disappointed when it drifted back to business as usual.

Nevertheless, in honor of 9/11, I chose to apply for American citizenship. I hope to become a citizen within a year.

It was time for me to move past my fears and embrace America wholeheartedly. This is my home now. If there are things that I do not like about it, then I must work harder to change them.

I'm proud of much that is good in America: its fine people, its beautiful lands, its Constitution. I'm proud to be part of a country that gives rise to leaders like Martin Luther King, Abraham Lincoln, and Thomas Jefferson. America is the wellspring of modern democracy and it continues to inspire the world.

Naturalization was the right choice for me. I hope American citizenship is also the right choice for you.

I heard from the INS last week. My "initial interview" is scheduled for late July.

posted on Friday, May 16, 2003 9:10:06 AM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00) 
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Thursday, April 24, 2003 

http://www.aafp.org/afp/991115ap/2279_f1b.jpg

(Originally posted to Toastmasters at EraBlog on Thu, 24 Apr 2003 06:08:36 GMT)

I gave the following speech to Toastmasters on March 5th, 2003, as Speech #3, "Organize Your Speech".

SLEEP APNEA

My wife is a cyborg.

That's not to say that she's the Terminator. Nor even that she's the six-million dollar woman, although I do value her greatly. She calls herself a cyborg because she sleeps with a breathing machine. At night, she wears a mask over her nose to force air into her lungs.

When I first met her, she complained of being tired all the time, of not getting a good night's sleep, of feeling stupid. When she drove for any length of time, she'd have to pull over for a short nap every hour. It was that or fall asleep at the wheel.

Once we started spending the night together, I quickly learned that she snores. Loudly. But it was a different kind of snoring than I was used to. In my experience, most people snore steadily, in a seesaw pattern like this: <snore in> <whistle out> <pause> <snore in> <whistle out>

Not so Emma. She would be very quiet for a minute or so, hardly breathing at all. Then she'd breathe in very loudly, almost gasping for air: <SNNNNORKKK!!> She'd go quiet for a minute or so, then snore loudly again. And so the cycle would repeat. All night long.

Naturally, I didn't enjoy this much. Sometimes, it would keep me awake for hours, and I'd have to move to the spare room just to get some sleep.

After one such episode, when I snarled "I can't take this anymore!" at her, she decided to see her doctor about it.

Emma's doctor thought that her symptoms sounded like sleep apnea, even though she didn't fit the stereotype of being an overweight, middle-aged man.

Apnea is Greek for "without breath". Sleep apnea is a breathing disorder, where the sufferer repeatedly stops breathing during sleep. After a minute or two without breathing, which leads to a reduction in blood-oxygen saturation, the brain forces the upper airway muscles to open the airway. Breathing resumes, usually with a loud snoring sound or gasp. These frequent arousals means that the sufferer doesn't get much deep, restorative sleep: the REM sleep that you need to be well-rested.

The effects of this lack of deep sleep build up over time. The sufferers often feel very sleepy during the day. Their concentration suffers. They lack energy. They become irritable and they have difficulty learning things. They may fall asleep while driving and they are significantly more likely to have accidents. Occasionally, they may even die in their sleep.

Sleep apnea occurs in all age groups and both sexes. It's estimated that four percent of middle-aged men have sleep apnea, and two percent of middle-aged women, with perhaps twelve to eighteen million Americans suffering from it. Most cases go undiagnosed.

The primary kind of sleep apnea is due to an obstruction in breathing. This can be due to a physical abnormality in the nose, throat, or upper airway. Many, but not all, sufferers are overweight and have an excess of soft flesh in the airway. When they sleep, the muscles in the soft palate, at the back of the roof of the mouth, relax, closing the airway. This can make breathing difficult, or it can stop it altogether.

One analogy is that it's like putting your hand over the nozzle of a vacuum cleaner. Your hand blocks all air getting in, like the upper airway collapses, even though the vacuum cleaner is still applying suction, just as the body continues to try to breathe. The vacuum cleaner is straining and so is the human body.

Under managed care, Emma's doctor couldn't send her for a sleep study directly. Instead, she was referred to an ear-, nose-, and throat-specialist. He also joked that she didn't fit the stereotype of being fat, fifty, and male. He looked at her small mouth and nose and her undershot jaw, and he agreed that it probably was sleep apnea. He referred her to a sleep specialist. The sleep specialist also trotted out the line about her not fitting the stereotype, but he did schedule her for a sleep study.

She spent a night at the sleep clinic in Swedish Hospital in Ballard. They attached electrodes all over her head and torso, as well as other instruments that made her look like the Bride of Frankenstein. The instruments were hooked up to a plotter that graphed all kinds of body functions continuously. When I came back in the morning to collect her, the plotter had produced a pile of fanfold paper that was a foot thick.

When Emma went back to the sleep specialist for her follow appointment, he told her that she had stopped breathing about twenty-six times an hour. It was no wonder that she had such difficulty in getting a good night's rest.

He told her that she could either have surgery or learn to sleep with the help of a breathing machine. The surgery would have involved removing excess tissue at the back of the throat and moving her jaw further forward. Emma was not keen on that, especially as the success rate of surgery is only about fifty to sixty percent.

She opted for a CPAP sleep machine instead. She straps a nose-mask around her head. This nose-mask is connected by a hose to a continuous positive air-pressure machine. This forces air through her nose and into her lungs.

She had to have a second sleep study to calibrate her CPAP machine for her breathing. It starts out at a low pressure and ramps up to the right pressure over a twenty-minute interval.

It took her a few weeks to get accustomed to the CPAP machine. It's not a very natural feeling to have air forced into your nose continuously. She now sleeps far better with it than she did before. Sometimes, she doesn't bother to put on her mask before taking a nap, and she usually regrets it, because she wakes up feeling less rested.

It took me a while to get used to the CPAP machine too, because it makes white noise all night long, as it's huffing away. It's a little like sleeping beside Darth Vader, and it's not very romantic, but it certainly beats her snoring.

When we travel, we bring the CPAP machine in an overnight case, along with an extension cord and a selection of adapters for foreign electrical outlets. The CPAP machine means that we can't go camping for more than a night or so, or Emma doesn't get enough rest.

In retrospect, Emma probably had sleep apnea for many years before it was diagnosed.

Now, not everyone who snores has sleep apnea. Only if they also have difficulty in breathing and chronically can't get a good night's rest, are they likely to have sleep apnea. Most undiagnosed sleep apnea sufferers are unaware that they repeatedly stop breathing because they don't wake up far enough to realize it.

If you know someone who may have the symptoms of sleep apnea, please, urge them to see their doctor. You could save their life.

posted on Thursday, April 24, 2003 9:09:01 AM (Pacific Daylight Time, UTC-07:00) 
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