Czechia

Do you know that the Czech Republic changed its name? The country now wants to be known as "Czechia."

No word yet on what pronouns it prefers. :)

My Cynosure

 

I confuse people because I sometimes embrace new technology (e.g., cryptocurrency) and sometimes cling to old tech (e.g., vinyl records). The explanation is simple: I search for what works. I don't automatically adopt a new way of doing things just because a company wants to sell it to me. I check to see if the product will actually improve my life. Conversely, I don't discard proven machinery just because it's gotten old. My cynosure is always: what works best?

Two examples: I just migrated from paper-books to Kindle. And I returned to a 90-year old way of making coffee (Bialetti Moka Pot).

When e-readers emerged I didn't grasp their benefits. I like paper and its absence of electricity. I always carry a book and magazines with me, read during gaps in my day and didn't want to worry about cords and electricity. The situation changed however with my recent vision-loss. Now paper isn't bright enough and sentences exceed the width of my field of vision. On a Kindle you can adjust both of these. I find reading on a Kindle easier. I've started consuming books much faster with the clever device. That's improvement.

Do you have a Kindle/Nook? Do you like it?

When I was a child my parents drank Sanka, awful-tasting freeze-dried "instant coffee". Sanka became popular among the bourgeoisie due to massive television advertising. In college I met my first love, a bohemian artist with great taste. She introduced to real coffee. The Bialetti Moka Pot was invented in 1930 by an Italian connoisseur and has been popular ever since. It effloresces a cup of Joe that's richer than other methods (e.g., French press; drip; Keurig). I just bought one of these wonderful machines almost a century after its invention. It works beautifully.

What's your approach to new technology?

Winter Is Coming

It's been literally years since I bought any winter clothes. So I need some warm ones.

Feeling a little blue I decided now is a good time to treat myself. I just ordered two light sweaters for Fall from my favorite clothier (Paul Fredrick). For the heart of Winter I want a heavier sweater.

I heard about a famous sweater-maker in Ireland on the remote island of Inis Meáin. The company uses craftsmen and -women who've been weaving sweaters for a century. That high quality, and the fact that the company produces only a small number of sweaters each year, means their prices are crazy. But, hey, I don't buy clothes every day. And when it's cold you really want a warm well-made sweater, not some cheap crap made on machines in China.

This informative article describes Inis Meáin's history, materials and craftmanship -- here.

The Peak and Valley

Recently I was surprised. No, that's not accurate: I was horrified. A photograph was taken for my passport -- and what it shows knocked me down. I was distraught and it took an entire day for my Pollyanna nature to surface and salvage my emotions.

A hidden blessing of bad vision is losing the ability to see yourself. I haven't viewed my face clearly in over a year. The bathroom-mirror displays only an indistinct blob. Shaving is a dangerous activity deserving its own book. Working title: "Riding The Razor."

Early in life I assessed my attractiveness. I considered my average looks to be sufficient. I didn't lust for adoration nor aspire to become a movie-star. I encountered no obstacles working as a legal pugilist; appearance is irrelevant in that bloody arena. 

But my passport photo reveals more than just aging. It shows a drooping eyelid over a permanently-bloodshot eye that's retired from active duty. Ugh. No longer am I unaware of my current appearance. That ignorance was temporary bliss.

Pondering this sad state of affairs an anodyne idea popped up: I was once cute. Long ago and for a brief moment. Exactly 50 years ago, in fact. In 1974 I could attract a girl's eye. That fleeting pulchritude was the peak of my life's physical beauty; it's been downhill since then, ultimately ending at this pitiful cul-de-sac.

For all of us who grow old, at some point past glory hops a train to Newark and disappears, leaving only vague memory. And, if we're lucky, maybe an old picture like this one.

Ancient Egypt

There are many projects I've wanted to pursue in my life. For decades, however, I was prevented from diving into them due to an exhausting job. Now, with time and energy, I'm happily embracing these endeavors.

I just completed a lengthy study of ancient Egypt: its history, art, culture and monumental achievements. Everyone knows of the pyramids but how many of us know who built them? Instead of cramming our heads with frivolous details about the Kardashians we should focus instead on true giants like Pharaohs Sneferu, Khufu and Menkaure. Ancient Egypt developed a sophisticated civilization that lasted over 3,000 years. It warrants attention.

Modern interest in this society began two centuries ago. Europeans got excited over studying ancient Egypt in the early 1800s; it even reached a point called "Egyptomania." That fervor accelerated 200 years ago when an ingenious French scholar (Jean-François Champollion) figured out how to decipher ancient hieroglyphs. His "eureka" moment in that quest happened this very day (September 14th) 202 years ago. That key unlocked voluminous knowledge on Egypt's history and culture since now we can read the many texts carved into stone throughout the region.

It's never too late to tackle a subject and learn something. In fact, acquiring knowledge later in life is especially sweet because you can place it in clearer context and relate the information to other stuff you know.

Q&A (Across The Ocean)

Three weeks ago, in an effort to brighten the blogosphere, I suggested something done in the past with success. I offered to either interview others here or answer your questions there. It gives us a chance to know each other better, explore important subjects and expand our audiences.

One reader, Lynn from England, took up the idea and sent me questions. Good questions that address diverse topics, like transgenderism (Lynn, like me is also trans). She posted our Q&A on her blog ahd you can see it here. I recommend a visit and be sure to say hi.

Lynn's questions deserve serious consideration. I'm repeating them below for maximum visibility. If you have any follow-up, ask Lynn or me and we'll be happy to elaborate. Happy Day!

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1. If there are two or three things you wished people knew about transgender folk, what are they?

What an excellent question! 

The biggest reason fear and hate exist is because people are not familiar with us. We can improve that with education. 

Decades ago people didn't know gay people and were scared of them. When gay visibility increased, fear dissipated. Most people today don't believe they know a trans individual in real life. That lack of interaction allows fear to grow and turn into hate. Conversely, as people learn more about us, they become comfortable.

When talking to someone who's never met a trans person before I try to convey two thoughts: that transgenderism is innate and immutable. We know from earliest childhood that we are this way and we know it won't change. Being transgender isn't a choice and can't be wished away. I deploy an analogy to describe this: I say my awareness that I'm female is known "the same way you know you're human and not a dog." Our identity is truth at the core of our being. I follow this by explaining our condition is permanent, can't be "cured" with therapy or drugs, and exists whether we socially transition or not.

2. If you could change something about the world, what would that be and why? 

I'd want empathy to be encouraged and more prevalent. Empathy leads to understanding and compassion. All who are different benefit when others develop empathy for our situation. Lack of empathy causes mistrust.

3. If you had to go back in time to any part of your life, when might that be and why?

I've lived a long time: I'm currently halfway through my sixth decade. Without doubt the best period of my life was my fifties when I possessed both wisdom and physical vigor. During that decade I expressed my inner femininity fully, pursued adventures of all kinds, and created a blog to record my experiences and explore female life. 

If you aren't 50 yet, look forward to that decade as a time for ineffable joy.

4. How has being a biker affected your view of other road users? 

Riding a motorcycle you realize, viscerally, how vulnerable you are. To stay alive, you focus on the behavior of others sharing the road and observe much reckless conduct. It is irresponsible, but common, for people to pilot 3,000 lb. hunks of metal at high speeds with too little margin for error. Usually they realize this only too late after having caused accidents. 

I was almost killed once when a young man, speeding in an adjacent lane, suddenly realized he was going to crash into the car in front of him. To avoid a collision he swerved into my lane without looking. I happened to be there at the time and was knocked off my bike. I laid on cold concrete with a collapsed lung and four broken ribs. I couldn't breathe. I understood, with grave certainty, that if I didn't start breathing soon my life was over. The accident did not have to happen: there were just foolish choices by an unskilled driver.

5. Just for fun: would you rather have a gadget that cleaned & tidied your house, or one that could make you any meal you liked? 

Easy: the former. I love to cook, finding it creative and fun. I'd never give that up. I get little pleasure from cleaning so will gladly pass that chore off to machinery.

My Pollyanna Nature

Yesterday I had a mishap in the street and suffered excruciating pain. Last night, mentally processing the event, my attitude changed: I became grateful at what happened. My innate Pollyanna nature kicked in. If you're curious about this mystery, read on.

Some context is necessary. I can see but have drastic limitations. For example I have no peripheral vision. If I look straight ahead I can't see what's below on the ground. 

I also have high metabolism. Living in New York accelerate that trait. I walk fast, talk fast and drove fast. After my vision loss I deliberately slowed down my pace which is helpful: it gives me more time to avoid trouble.

When I'm in public by myself I walk slowly and scan the ground for obstacles. Usually that works. Mishaps I've had have something in common: they occur when I'm hurrying. When rushing my eyes move up to see where I'm going. Unfortunately that means they aren't seeing what's on the ground. My vision doesn't include both views.

Yesterday I was walking home from Starbucks on a busy commercial road. I was crossing an intersection with no traffic signal. Halfway across a car came speeding around the corner, driving very fast. I hurried to get out of its way. I made to the other side -- but didn't notice a curb there. Moving at a runner's pace, my foot hit the curb and my entire body went airborne. Literally. Flying through the air I had enough time to think, "Well, this is new. I've never experienced this before. I wonder what will happen next?" Then, BAM! My body crashed to the ground. It felt like I'd fallen out of a plane. I landed on my hands and knees with such force it was like having a heavy person strapped to my back instead of a 20 lb. backpack.

The impact stunned me. I landed on very rough concrete so my palms and knees were ripped and bloody. My body swelled up instantly and I couldn't move. I laid on the ground for 10-15 minutes before I could move anything. In addition to pain I noticed my right arm is badly sprained; I can't rotate it.

During the time I writhed in pain on a busy street you may wonder if anyone stopped to help. No, they did not. There is no community left in modern America. Dozens of cars passed by without assisting. I finally summoned my strength, got up and staggered a half-mile home. Bleeding and worried about my arm.

Later in the day I thought about the incident and my mood shifted. I became grateful. Why? I'm glad the fall didn't injure me worse.

Every day I do pushups, planks and lift free weights. My arms and upper torso are strong, especially for my age. When I hit the ground it was like doing a massive pushup: my body moved downward while my arms and chest pushed upward. It was instinct to protect my head. Fortunately no part of my head hit the ground. If I didn't have upper-body strength my head would have smacked into the concrete, causing at least a concussion and bloody facial wounds. And possibly worse. 

Two years ago a friend and I were walking in Savannah when we saw an elderly woman trip and fall. She hit her head on the sidewalk and was dazed and bleeding. We rushed to her aid. I used my handkerchief to stop the bleeding. We tried to calm her but she was so dazed as to be incoherent. Obviously she was badly injured from the head-blow. A few minutes later her adult-daughter came running up and took over. She assured us they would be fine as she helped her mother stagger home. She declined our repeated offers for more assistance.

My perspective on yesterday is that my diminished vision may make mishaps possible but my overall good health will enable me to survive them. These injuries will heal and I'll get back to normal life. Normal for me, that is. :)