Burningbird

A pink rose

Post author By Shelley Powers
Post date April 15, 2003

I’ve been following Jeneane’s tales about becoming unemployed and having to deal with health insurance and possible lack thereof. My own option was to do without health care or insurance coverage, an option Jeneane doesn’t have with a small child and existing medical conditions.

The President will be at Boeing in St. Louis tomorrow and I’m tempted to go down with a big, big sign saying, “I have SARS!”, including at the bottom in teeny tiny print “Sick About the Reality of being Sick with no health insurance”. Bet that would be one fast trip back to Air Force One. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, you’ll know I gave into my evil self.

I cannot understand how we can talk tax cuts when a fifth of the country has inadequate health care coverage. Just think what will happen if SARS grabs a hold of this country. Nothing shows up an inadequate health care coverage system more than a deadly outbreak of an unknown virus that has flu-like symptoms to start.

The states and counties and cities, and private organizations and universities do their best to close the gap between the insured and uninsured, though the effort is, at most, a treatment rather than a cure. Still, they’re doing the best they can and more power to them.

One hospital associated with a university in our area sends out “wellness” newsletters containing health tips, phone numbers, notice of free health classes and so on. Among the items will be any free or low-cost health care alternative for those who don’t have insurance.

One organization listed in the newsletter provides free mammograms and breast exams for women; but it’s not just a quick, cattle-car event you would expect from a “free” service. No, this is an all day event. When the woman arrives in the morning she’s sat down, and the procedures are explained to her, in detail. She’s then given the mammogram, and provided lunch while waiting the result. Following lunch, she watches a short movie about how to do breast self-exams. Once that’s finished, she meets with the doctor and finishes the exam. Hopefully all will be well, but if not, that’s when the gap between being insured and not insured will become most apparent.

Just before leaving, the staff gives her a single pink rose. While it’s the exam that might help save her life, it’s the rose that helps save her dignity.

Photography

Beautiful Paths

Post author By Shelley Powers
Post date April 15, 2003

Beautiful path

No doubt about the season here

Now, that’s green

Now, that’s REALLY green

But the bluebells were the show today

Weather

Spring thickens the air

Post author By Shelley Powers
Post date April 14, 2003

St. Louis Springs are like Fall unfolding. Rather than green fading to dying brown, autumn’s last colors are increasingly giving way to green in all its variations. Light green, dark, medium, pale, yellow green, bluish. Among the verdant defiant, bright purple or pale pink flowers on late blooming tree, joined by vivid red and yellow tulip. I have never seen such a Spring.

Today, everything had a thick coat of pale green from the pollen, and even the darkest color car looks washed out and faded. Tonight, I opened both bedroom windows to catch the cool air, and when I later returned to the computer, the keyboard was covered with a fine layer of dust. And when we walk, we’re accompanied by headache and shortness of breath, peering out at the green through eyes red and teary. Spring here is for the plants – animals will just have to bide their time until this procreative moment is past. Close one’s eyes, and think of England.

Weblogging Writing

Shadow Talk

Post author By Shelley Powers
Post date April 14, 2003

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I have a shadow, created by no form of mine. It follows me everywhere, but always arrives first, and lingers long after I’m gone.

The more light I shine on it, the stronger it gets. So I hide it among my other shadows, in hopes that one day, it will fade away.

I was tickled, tickled I say, to see that Jonathon is continuing the discussion Steve started about weblogging and (l)iterature. Not only is he continuing it, he ups the ante in bold, relieved defiance of weblogging protocol:

That’s it: where my own interests lie. In other words, hardly anything to do with telling the literal truth; and everything to do with fashioning an authentic persona from bits of alibis and consistent lies.

…bits of alibis and consistent lies. Jonathon is truly a rebel in our midst – threatening to bring a story teller’s narrative into this land of raw id and Venerated Truth. A year ago, I would have been appalled. In fact, a year ago I was appalled – it was one year ago when the infamous Oblivio Duck Sign incident happened, and Jonathon first brought up the concept that not all of this is as it seems:

Yet, even though I don’t regard Oblivio as a weblog, others might. I suppose it could be mistaken for a weblog, just as Michael Barrish could be mistaken for a real person. He probably is a real person since he also uses the website to solicit web development work (though he maintains separate sites for each purpose, for reasons he explains in the story Motherfucker ). But Barrish is also a character who appears in his own stories. As does Rachel, his girlfriend. Whether she really exists and whether she’s his girlfriend is impossible to determine, without knowing Michael Barrish. Even then, the real-life Rachel may bear only a fleeting resemblance to the Rachel in the stories. (Just like the women in some of my stories.)

At the time my response was:

Of all possible outcomes of yesterday’s writing, what I didn’t expect is that the story that originated my passion might be allegorical rather than experience. I am left wondering whether I am a sophisticated patron of the arts or an incredibly gullible fool. And that’s the inherent danger of mixing the art of creation within the context of experiential recounting.

In this day of weblogger meetups and get-togethers, and discussions of digital identity and authentication, the thought that a weblogger would write as a narrator, crafting stories and putting him or herself into them must seem almost blasphemy. But whoever said that authentic and true were one and the same?

I rejoice in Jonathon and Steve and their defiance and most of all their literature. The writer has been too long superceded by the journalist, the gossip, and the community node.

Writing

When useful talk fails

Post author By Shelley Powers
Post date April 13, 2003

I re-read my last post and wasn’t overly happy with it. I think I missed the points I wanted to make, or I should say buried them. However, it might have some use as a unifying document – either all sides will hate it or they’ll all be equally confused about what I’m trying to say. The thing is full of verbal switchbacks.

I am running out of useful things to say about the situation in Iraq and must now resort to gibberish. However, I take some comfort in knowing that I’m in highly placed company in this regard.