Category: Just Shelley

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People Writing

I am nuts about Herb Caen

If San Francisco can be represented by one person, that person is Herb Caen. And this week he is being celebrated: It’s Herb Caen week in San Francisco.

I wasn’t raised in San Francisco, but I know of Herb. And even if I didn’t know of “Herb Caen”, directly, I know of the type of man he was — the ultimate newspaper man. A symbol of days both more glamorous and grittier, weightier and frothier, and somehow more elegant than anything we can hope to achieve today.

In a reprint of one of Caen’s articles, What is San Francisco he wrote:

IT’S THE dramatically sudden appearance of more men in uniform than you’ve ever seen on the streets — symbols of a giant awakening to conflict, perhaps to blot out the peace and loveliness of All This . . . It’s the raucous, stark revival meeting at Third and Mission — where a man yells hysterically that he’s been “Saved!” while all about him drift broken men who’ll never be Saved, and the sightless windows of the surrounding buildings throw his words back at him scoffingly.

Herb Caen — 1940

There will never be another Herb Caen in print. There will never be a Herb Caen in the glossy pages of a magazine. And there will never be a Herb Caen in makeup in front of the camera reading from a teleprompter. However, if you read what he writes, if you read how he writes, then you know that someday, somehow, there will be another Herb Caen…

… and he’ll be here, among us. Another weblogger.

Take a moment and read about Herb:

Making the Rounds in Baghdad-by-the-Bay
Herb’s Homepage
Herb Caen Days
Herb Caen: We’ll Never Go There Anymore
Herb and the Samoans — we know this one — a simple gaff leading to dangerous misunderstanding
FBI hated Beloved San Francisco Columnist
Herb Caen: Once more with Feeling

Categories
Writing

Herb Caen continued

I think I picked up my use of the elipses (…) from Herb Caen. He was a master in its use. Punctuation, grammar — these are tools to use, not rules to follow.

Herb Caen days continue. The following is an excerpt from an April, 1995 column:

SUNDAY was a great day for kite-flying, sailing, jogging, jiggling while jogging, jogging with a headset, jogging with Spandex, tossing Frisbees for dogs to retrieve, throwing tennis balls for dogs to return, roller-blading, skateboarding with a sail, wind-surfing, surfboarding on contemptuous breakers, biking, motorbiking, fishing, dishing, making sculptures out of the loose stones of the seawall, tossing sourdough bread to the wheeling gulls, lying in the sun, taking photos of your friends with the Golden Gate Bridge as a backdrop . . .

I DIDN’T do any of those things but they were all on view Sunday along the magical two- mile stretch from the St. Francis Yacht Club parking lot to Fort Point — paths well-traveled by generations of San Franciscans abundantly pleased with themselves at their choice of a place to live, laugh, love and luxuriate.

The Presidio: what a treasure on a Sunday- sweet-Sunday, with the wind brisk but not knife- sharp, the people (all sizes, shapes and languages) in a mellow mood. No intrusive sounds, only the boom-crash of a pounding surf throwing rainbow-spray high into the blue. In the distance, old Alcatraz, once our Devil’s Island, surrounded by forests of white sails that part to let a container ship through, followed by an auto carrier, a tanker, a row of barges towed by a chesty tug looking pleased with itself, as tugs tend to do.

Categories
Just Shelley

Over the top

Did I go over the top in the last posting? I did, didn’t I?

I do this sometimes, have you noticed that? Probably why I’m called “Burningbird” rather than “Miss Dove” or “Miss Seagull” or “Cute Little Wren”.

There’s a whole lot of difference between stealing a sign — though this is wrong and not to be condoned — and other crimes one can do. Kick self and tell self “Get some friggen perspective, Bird, or we’ll yank away your ‘I’m holier than thou’ membership card. And make you eat it.”

I have a confession to make. When I was a young teenager, about 14 if I remember correctly, I was out with a group of friends in the wee hours of the morning when we noticed a police car parked in front of a home.

To make a long story short, we stole the blue plastic light cover from one of the lights on top of the car.

So much for my high moral ground

(…she says as she slinks away, hanging her head in shame…)

Categories
Just Shelley Legal, Laws, and Regs

Steal this ashtray

I know it seems at times as if Jonathon and I have become weblogging’s first tag team. I can’t help it — he finds these interesting things and makes these extremely open observations, and my hands go to the keyboard and I feel compelled to add my own observations to his. I have no control over this process.

Case in point: Today Jonathon discusses a weblog posting he found where a person, Michael Barrish, describes his initial reaction to critical comments:

1. Attack the accuser
2. Minimize the wrong
3. Defend your character

It would seem that the Michael Barrish’s girlfriend wanted him to help her steal a Duck Crossing Sign. That’s not the story. He ended up not stealing the sign. That’s still not the story. He received several critical emails from readers. However, even that’s not the story.

What is the story is that the Barrish didn’t steal the sign because he didn’t want to get caught, not because stealing was wrong.

My philosophy is, I’ll steal signs with my girlfriend but I won’t get caught.

And when he received emails from people saying that stealing is wrong, he tried to justify his actions. However, he faced his own moment of truth:

It’s worth noting that I’ve never been one for the rule of law. Fact is, I respect the law only in the sense that I can be punished for breaking it. The only laws that matter to me—and these matter quite a bit—are the ones I make for myself.

One such law or rule (this may sound strange in the present context) is that stealing is wrong, particularly when one steals for what Jay Perkins calls ‘unnecessary and idiotic reasons.’ And it doesn’t matter that one’s accuser is a righteous jerk, or that little harm comes from the theft, or that one is fundamentally moral. It’s still wrong.

What saddened Jonathon was Barrish’s final statement:

Of course I’m not just speaking about duck signs here, nor only about myself. The same self-serving logic used to justify petty theft is used to justify the destruction of the planet. People do what they want, then find reasons to justify it.

Bullshit. This is absolute and total bullshit.

Yes, some people will do selfish acts and then seek to justify their actions. However, most people, and I count myself in this group, making me a “goddamn paragon of rightousness”, follow our moral codes without any equivocation.

What Barrish failed to realize is that by saying this problem is a global problem, he’s absolving himself of any responsibility for his action and his reaction to the criticism he received.

“People do what they want, then find reasons to justify it.”

Bullshit.

Yes, I am not always law abiding. I walk against a red light when no car is around. (In Boston, the cops are suspicious of you if you don’t.) And I have been known to exceed the speed limit. And I’ll fib if someone asks me if I like their new dress and I think it’s the worst piece of crap.

But I don’t steal. I don’t cheat on my taxes. I screw up my taxes, constantly, but I don’t cheat.

I don’t break things, except by accident. I have found things and returned them, intact, to their owners. I point out billing errors even if it benefits the store. I’m kind to small children, pets, and don’t throw garbage out the window. I conserve electricity, I bought a small car with good gas mileage, I recycle.

I respect and value my friends, including my weblogging friends.

“People do what they want, then find reasons to justify it.”

Bullshit.

Time to tie this one back to an earlier topic: This might surprise you all when I say this, but there is no “justification” for the suicide bombings or for the terrorist attacks on September 11th, 2001. My seeking to understand the reasons behind these acts is NOT the same as seeking justification.

Somehow, the two — justification and understanding — got tied together. I’m extremely glad that this issue arose because I just now realized that I needed to say this. I needed to say the words, “There is no justification for the suicide bombings”. But I’ll still seek to understand.

Justification. There is no justification for not following your own moral code. None. To say otherwise, is nothing more than a justification for your justification, and is equivalent to not having any moral code at all. Just a few rules that you conveniently “forget” from time to time.

Self-righteous paragons of the world, stand up and be counted.

Categories
Writing

Favorite children’s book

One more post in my little orgy of posting tonight, and then off to bed. Sharon finished a class in Children’s Literature, and reading her words triggered fond memories of my own childhood reading.

Question: What was your favorite reading when you were a kid? And if you say Harry Potter, then you’re too young to be reading this weblog. There must be some kind of Britney Spears weblog you can read somewhere.

For me there were the usual books — Stevenson’s Child’s Garden of Verse, as well as Little Women and The Secret Garden. There was also one book that I can’t remember the name of but it was about a day when all the toys in the land became alive — for just one day. It was a great book. I also read every animal-related book I could get my hands on. And comic books when I could snitch them from my brother’s collection.

However, my favorite reading was faery tales. The best was Hans Christian Andersen’s The Ugly Duckling, though I also liked the Snow Queen and the Nightengale. And for a tale to curl your toes, there was the Grimm’s version of Cinderella (BTW, not for the faint of heart — what can I say, I was twisted at a young age).

Speaking of faery tales, the best movie depicting a faery tale is Jean Cocteau’s La Belle et La Bête. This movie put to shame Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, though the latter was an excellent introduction to the melding of traditional and computer animation.

BTW — Sharon, you’re going to be a terrific librarian, but they’re not going to let you swear among the stacks, m’dear.