A New Yorker in Dublin

So many impressions of Ireland and of Dublin—here are a few. The Irish are an unpretentious folk, friendly, with a pleasant sense of humor. It actually felt 'familiar' to be there, because it reminded me of some of the residential areas around New York City--the Irish neighborhoods. Not surprising since the Irish who immigrated to the USA settled in and around the city. I felt as though I fit in with the culture and that didn’t surprise me either, because I grew up in the New York City area and because my mother was of Irish ancestry (as well as of English and Scottish ancestry). The people don’t seem to get too excited or stressed or angry. I cannot remember that we heard much yelling or cursing or that we saw angry people yelling or screaming at the world around them. There were a few beggars who sat in the streets hoping for some change. I ate Irish food each night—fish and chips, bangers and mash (pork sausages and mashed potatoes—delicious), and Irish stew. Didn’t get a chance to sample shepherd’s pie, but my mother used to make that and Irish stew as a matter of course especially during the cold winter months. So I knew what to expect and I wasn’t disappointed. And the beer was good. I am not a beer drinker, but I enjoyed the Guinness beer and the tour of the brewery that makes it.

We made our way to two interesting library exhibitions: the first was about the famous Irish poet William Butler Yeats (my favorite poet)--‘ The Life and Works of William Butler Yeats’ that took place at the National Library of Ireland http://www.nli.ie/en/udlist/current-exhibitions.aspx?article=adb6ce52-1f52-4a33-882c-685dedd0fb9d and http://www.nli.ie/yeats/ (virtual tour). It was a fascinating collection of his manuscripts, photo albums and books and told the story of his life in an effective and moving way. The second exhibition was The Book of Kells at Trinity College library, with a trip at the end of the tour to the second floor of the library to visit the Long Room—a fantastic room lined with marble busts of ancient philosophers, writers and medical scientists as well as with ancient books from floor to ceiling, of course off-limits to the public. The Book of Kells was fascinating—an amazing book put together by scribes and illustrators and holy men. I have a new appreciation for libraries and the incredible work that goes into creating these exhibitions. They do such a good job.

We also enjoyed the Temple Bar area in the evening with its many pubs with live music and dancing. We spent one evening at The Old Storehouse and enjoyed a good meal and live music—a duo—a young female violinist and a male guitarist. The woman sang and the two of them were terrific, performing traditional Irish folk songs as well as some American songs. Many of the singers in the different pubs seemed to have a fascination with Johnny Cash and Bruce Springsteen. I really enjoyed the Irish folk songs, e.g. Wild Rover comes to mind, a classic song that seemed to be a real crowd-pleaser; the public clapped and sang along as though they knew the song by heart, which they probably did.

Dubliners are not much different than other Western Europeans when it comes to walking on city sidewalks; there is only a halfhearted attempt at staying to one side of the sidewalk in an orderly fashion. Pedestrians spread out all over. You bump into them when you meet them. Everyone says excuse me and all that, but it would be easier to walk if there were ‘lanes’ like if we were driving cars on the highway. But it isn’t much better in Manhattan, except that people tend to be a bit more proactive in terms of moving to the right side of the sidewalk when they see folk coming. Dubliners also flock to cafes and outdoor restaurants to enjoy the lovely sunny weather when it arrives (sporadically), just like Oslo city dwellers. Of course there were a lot of tourists there now at this time of year, but a good number of them were Irish (we could hear the accent), in addition to the French and Italian visitors.

I will be posting some Dublin photos in upcoming posts. It is a lovely city with interesting storefronts and clever names for its many shops and pubs, as well as versatile architecture—very old or modern. Both seem to work. I’m glad I got to see the city, and I know already I will be going back.

Pangur Bán--an eighth century poem written by an Irish monk

I and Pangur Bán, my cat
'Tis a like task we are at;
Hunting mice is his delight
Hunting words I sit all night.

Better far than praise of men
'Tis to sit with book and pen;
Pangur bears me no ill will,
He too plies his simple skill.

'Tis a merry thing to see
At our tasks how glad are we,
When at home we sit and find
Entertainment to our mind.

Oftentimes a mouse will stray
In the hero Pangur's way:
Oftentimes my keen thought set
Takes a meaning in its net.

'Gainst the wall he sets his eye
Full and fierce and sharp and sly;
'Gainst the wall of knowledge I
All my little wisdom try.

When a mouse darts from its den,
O how glad is Pangur then!
O what gladness do I prove
When I solve the doubts I love!

So in peace our tasks we ply,
Pangur Bán, my cat, and I;
In our arts we find our bliss,
I have mine and he has his.

Practice every day has made
Pangur perfect in his trade;
I get wisdom day and night
Turning darkness into light.

(Written by an eighth-century Irish monk--name unknown. English translation by Robin Flower)

I read this poem for the first time when we visited The Book of Kells exhibition at the Trinity College library. It spoke to me as a lot of poetry does. I could just see in my mind's eye, the monk toiling away in the darkness while his cat hunted mice. The monk could have been working on one of the books of Kells, transcribing or illustrating them. And then the symbolic last sentence, 'Turning darkness into light'. There is so much that he says in this one little sentence--isn't this the whole basis of religion and our belief in a supreme being? That if we accept God into our lives, that this God turns our darkness into light? But I also think about this monk's place and time in history--the medieval times. Dark times. Perhaps he understood his role in turning the minds of his fellowmen toward the light; he perhaps understood his small and simple role in history. It must have been a profound moment for him when he wrote this--a kind of simple divine inspiration. 

A great Irish pub song---Wild Rover

I've been a wild rover for many's the year,

and I spent all me money on whiskey and beer.

And now I'm returning with gold in great store,

and I never will play the wild rover no more.

(Chorus):

And it's no, nay, never! No, nay, never, no more,

will I play the wild rover. No (nay) never no more!

I went to an alehouse I used to frequent,

and I told the landlady me money was spent.

I asked her for credit, she answered me "nay,

such a custom as yours I could have any day".

(Chorus)

I pulled from me pocket a handful of gold,

and on the round table it glittered and rolled.

She said "I have whiskeys and wines of the best,

and the words that I told you were only in jest".

(Chorus)

I'll have none of your whiskeys nor fine Spanish wines,

For your words show you clearly as no friend of mine.

There's others most willing to open a door,

To a man coming home from a far distant shore.

(Chorus)

I'll go home to me parents, confess what I've done,

and I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.

And if they forgive me as oft times before,

I never will play the wild rover no more.

(Chorus)

----------------------------

It’s not clear who wrote the song, but it’s a lot of fun to sing along to, and in every pub we visited in Dublin in the Temple Bar area, there were singers performing this song. It seems to be a great crowd-pleaser. 

Vacation time

Here it is July already. Vacation time. Plans and things to look forward to. I will be in Dublin Ireland for the next few days—A New Yorker in Dublin. I hope that the hotel has wi-fi so that I can connect to the net and write when the mood strikes me. I hope I get inspired to write by the country itself—Ireland, the home of WB Yeats, my favorite poet. I won’t get a chance to visit County Sligo, where he lived for most of his adult life, at least not on this trip. But he was born and educated in Dublin, and there is a Yeats exhibition this coming week, so I will at least get a chance to see that. I will be traveling with my friend Gisele, and we usually manage to pack a lot of sightseeing into a few days, merely by walking around the cities we visit. We’ve walked a fair amount around Paris and have really gotten to know the city. Amsterdam is another city I will be visiting this summer together with my husband. We’ve both been there before but only for a couple of days. This time we’ll spend a few more days there. We were hoping to visit the famous Keukenhof tulip park, but apparently it is closed after the spring exhibition. I’ve been there once before in April 1998 and it was just an amazing place to see, with all of the different tulip arrangements. A pity that we won’t be able to see it now when we’re there. Next time…….

And then in August I will be A New Yorker in New York for a week or so—my annual trip to NY to visit friends and family. Lots of events planned, as always, get-togethers, shopping, sightseeing, etc. My schedule is usually packed and I like it that way. Summer vacation here we come. 

What Meister Eckhart Said

·         If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough. 

·         Do exactly what you would do if you felt most secure. 

·         All God wants of man is a peaceful heart. 

·         He who would be serene and pure needs but one thing, detachment. 

·         Every creature is a word of God. 

·         God expects but one thing of you, and that is that you should come out of yourself in so far as you are a created being made and let God be God in you. 

·         God is at home, it's we who have gone out for a walk. 

·         Man goes far away or near but God never goes far-off; he is always standing close at hand, and even if he cannot stay within he goes no further than the door. 

·         Only the hand that erases can write the true thing. 

·         The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me. 

·         The more we have the less we own. 

·         The outward man is the swinging door; the inner man is the still hinge. 

·         The outward work will never be puny if the inward work is great. 

·         The price of inaction is far greater than the cost of making a mistake. 

·         To be full of things is to be empty of God. To be empty of things is to be full of God. 

·         Truly, it is in darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us. 

·         What a man takes in by contemplation, that he pours out in love. 

·         What we plant in the soil of contemplation, we shall reap in the harvest of action. 

·         When you are thwarted, it is your own attitude that is out of order. 

·         Words derive their power from the original word. 

·         You may call God love, you may call God goodness. But the best name for God is compassion. 

Saying goodbye to Fru Østbakken

On June 5th of last year, I wrote a post about Fru Østbakken (http://paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com/2010/06/fru-stbakken.html), who in her 94th year had moved into a nursing home temporarily to recover from a small stroke. She was eventually moved to Grunerløkka nursing home in the early autumn and it was there she lived, in a small room with some of her furniture, paintings, and belongings about her, until she died last week (June 14^th) at the age of 95. My husband and I attended her funeral service, which was held this past Wednesday in the basement chapel of the nursing home. The service was well-attended by her extended family and a few of her neighbors; she had no children of her own and her husband pre-deceased her in 1993. Most of the elderly ladies who lived in the same co-op development whom she socialized with have passed on or are themselves living in nursing homes now. So there has been a real changing of the guard not only at work but also in the co-op development where we live. One of the neighbors who attended the service together with us, an older man of 70, commented on this—how strange it felt to see this happening. He meant that when he looked around, he knew no one anymore. Everyone he knew has either moved away or passed on, and he will also be moving away, to Germany, at the end of the month. It is a strange feeling to watch the years pass and to see this happen. I agree with him. But there is no stopping the progression of time; it is also very strange to think that someday, God willing, we will also reach 70 and maybe even 80 or 90 years of age. It must be strange to know that most of life lies behind you, in the past, and that there is nothing you can do to stop the flow of years, that brings you to your own passing. The realization that one is a mortal being is a gradual process. Though we know when we are younger that we will not live forever, it is not ‘real’ in the same way as it is when you hit middle or old age. I remember that with my mother, who sometimes commented on it but who mostly avoided the topic. Fru Østbakken talked a little about what it meant to foresee her own death when I visited her before Christmas. She was ready to die, even though she was afraid to die. She meant that she had lived a long good life. The priest who led the service also commented on this. I think she was more afraid of not knowing when her death would happen, what it would involve, or how much pain or suffering it might involve, and so on. When we visited her a few weeks ago, her doctor had essentially informed her that it could happen at any time. She had advanced colorectal cancer and it had apparently spread, so that it was only a matter of time.

I write about her now because I look up to her and admire her courage. This life we live is a mystery, but death is also a mystery. No one has managed to explain why we age and pass on. Scientists study aging, and they have their theories with some underlying data as to how we age (e.g. telomere shortening that leads to cell aging), but why this should be the case, that we build a life on this earth that we must let go of at some point, remains an unknown. It is not for nothing that you realize at some point that life becomes about how to let go of things gracefully. Not an easy task. It is not easy to say goodbye, not easy to let go, not easy to deny our will and our desires. I have realized that truly living life is a paradox—one lives best when one knows that one will not live forever. In that way, you will not take life and loved ones for granted, when you know that seconds, hours, days, and weeks become years and decades and that time passes and that the present is what we have—to make good memories together with those we love. So I say rest in peace to Fru Østbakken; I know she would tell us to live life and to enjoy ourselves. She embraced her life each day; her will to keep going was impressive and if given a choice, she would have remained in her apartment, at home, until the end, but she was not able to afford what it would have cost to have made that possible—live-in care. So she was pragmatic. She understood this and accepted her lot. That was very characteristic of her—she was pragmatic and accepting. I hope she has found the peace that she deserves. 

The Martian Chronicles and Solaris

I have been a fan of science fiction since I was a teenager, probably from the time I first read The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury. I also read Something Wicked This Way Comes, The Illustrated Man and Fahrenheit 451, and enjoyed them all. Bradbury is a thought-provoking and outstanding sci-fi writer (90 years old and still with us), and his books have a haunting quality about them. You don’t forget them easily. I don’t recall all of the stories in The Martian Chronicles in detail, just that there were certain parts that were quite scary in that what was suggested was considerably terrifying. You just knew that something terrible was going to happen to some of the earthlings who made it to Mars, and it did (the third expedition was liquidated by the Martians who posed as dead family members such that the deluded (and lonely) crew ended up just giving in to the delusions). The following passage from the chapter ‘April 2000: The Third Expedition’ is an example of the type of terror Bradbury could instill in his readers: “And wouldn’t it be horrible and terrifying to discover that all of this was part of some great clever plan by the Martians to divide and conquer us, and kill us? Sometime during the night, perhaps my brother here on this bed will change form, melt, shift and become another thing, a terrible thing, a Martian. It would be very simple for him to just turn over in bed and put a knife into my heart……..His hands were shaking under the covers. His body was cold. Suddenly it was not a theory. Suddenly he was very afraid……..Carefully he lifted the covers, rolled them back. He slipped from bed and was walking softly across the room when his brother’s voice said, ‘Where are you going?’…...’For a drink of water’. ‘But you’re not thirsty’. ‘Yes, yes, I am’. ‘No, you’re not’. Captain John Black broke and ran across the room. He screamed. He screamed twice. He never reached the door”.

This was all Bradbury wrote about the actual murder of Captain John Black and the massacres of the crew of the third expedition. You knew that murders were occurring in the rest of the Martian houses who had crew members staying with them because they were the ‘families’ of these crew members, but Bradbury didn’t have to elaborate at all about them, because it was left to our imaginations to figure out what was happening to them all. Superb sci-fi horror in a category all its own.

I was reminded of Bradbury recently because I just finished the sci-fi novel Solaris by Stanislaw Lem. It too deals with the theme of aliens who 'present' themselves to a space crew by taking on the forms of people familiar to them. In this case, the crew is living in a space station that orbits the planet Solaris. However, these aliens do not kill the crew members. The book was first published in 1961 (eleven years after The Martian Chronicles) but has a very modern feel to it, mostly because Lem’s writing is timeless and wonderful. Like Bradbury, he is a terrific storyteller. But Lem goes one step further—some of his descriptions of the ocean and the planet Solaris are pure poetry—beautiful and colorful and suggestive of eternity, melancholy, emptiness and loneliness. It is as though Lem tried to describe the eternal using a very crude language—English—and found that it was just not possible to completely convey all that he wanted to communicate. And when reading his descriptions of the planet, you know that he hit a linguistic wall of sorts. There have been at least two movies made based upon the book (I have written about the one I have seen—Solaris from 2002 directed by Steven Soderbergh—in an earlier post); neither of them as far as I understand attempted in any way to present the planet as  Lem described. Why, I don’t know. It would have been fascinating to have seen some CGI effects depicting the mimoids, symmetriads and asymmetriads. The book’s description of these Solaris creations is mesmerizing. A living planet/ocean, and a space station that was not able to communicate with this ocean in any way that made sense to the humans onboard. And yet, Solaris was able to probe their minds, ‘read’ each of them and provide them with ‘visitors’—alien creatures that resembled people in their past lives about which the scientists on board the space station harbored secret feelings of guilt. For the main character, Kris Kelvin, the alien creature who ‘visits’ him is his wife Rheya, who committed suicide early on in their marriage after he had walked out on her. In a rather complicated twist, the aliens themselves do not understand why they have been ‘sent’ to the crew members, who feel guilty both about wanting to be free of them and about wanting to be with them, at least in Kelvin’s case. Once Rheya understands what she is now and who she was to Kelvin in his past (real) life, she wants to free him via her destruction. It is not a happy book, rather a very thought-provoking one, not only because of the interactions between Kris and his visitor Rheya, but also because of the attempts to explain the nature of the ocean surrounding Solaris and the attempts to communicate with it. Lem seems to have wanted to insert his view of God at that time into the narrative as well. Kris asks the other crew member, Snow, whether he believes in God. Kris explains “It isn’t that simple. I don’t mean the traditional God of Earth religion……----do you happen to know if there was ever a belief in an imperfect god?……..I’m not thinking of a god whose imperfection arises out of the candor of his human creatures, but one whose imperfection represents his essential characteristic: a god limited in his omniscience and power, fallible, incapable of foreseeing the consequences of his acts, and creating things that lead to horror. He is a sick god, whose ambitions exceed his powers and who does not realize it at first……And he has created eternity, which was to have measured his power, and which measures his unending defeat……This god has no existence outside of matter. He would like to free himself from matter, but he cannot…….That is the only god I could imagine believing in, a god whose passion is not redemption, who saves nothing, fulfils no purpose---a god who simply is”.

It is an amazing and haunting book, in the same way as The Martian Chronicles, and well worth reading. I was sorry to finish it, because it left me wanting more. That is the mark of an excellent storyteller. 

Photos of Tarrytown Lakes and Hudson River Valley Estates

As promised when I wrote my post the other day about the Tarrytown Lakes and the Hudson River Valley estates, I am posting some photos that I have taken of the Lakes as well as of Lyndhurst, Kykuit, and Philipsburg Manor. The Lyndhurst photos are very old (and very edited in Photoshop; they were taken with a Kodak Instamatic, believe it or not), but have withstood the ravages of time. The Tarrytown Lakes photos are from the autumn of 2005 when I visited New York. I always drive around the old familiar places--memories abound and I enjoy my trips down memory lane. The Kykuit and Philipsburg Manor photos were taken in the summer of 2008 when I was in New York together with my friends Jean and Maria. You will get an idea of how beautiful the Hudson River Valley area and the village of Tarrytown are. Enjoy the photos, and if you are ever in the area, visit these places. You will love being there.

Tarrytown Lakes in the autumn

Tarrytown Lakes--you can see the roof of the shed where we used to sit in the wintertime when skating

Lyndhurst mansion--looking up from the riverfront

Lyndhurst mansion--view facing the Hudson River

View of the Hudson River from the Kykuit mansion

Another view of the Hudson River from Kykuit

Kykuit Mansion

Philipsburg Manor

Philipsburg Manor 

Some wise words about fathers

Tomorrow is Father’s Day, so in honor of my father (who passed away in 1985) and of all the other fathers I know who work hard at doing the hardest job of all—parenting, I am posting some inspirational words about fathers and fatherhood. I was fortunate to have had a very close relationship with my father, one that started when I was very young. We shared a love of books and literature that has stayed with me my whole life, and I will never forget our discussions at the dinner table about everything under the sun. My father was my friend as I grew into adulthood; I know that I lost him all too soon. He never got a chance to see how my life changed, nor did he ever get to meet my husband or my stepdaughter. Nevertheless, I know he is watching over me as he always did when I was a child, and I am grateful for the time I did have together with him. He taught me to appreciate the time we have together with our loved ones, that we don’t have them with us on this earth forever, so we should not take them or our time together for granted.

·         It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.
~ Anne Sexton

·         He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.  ~Clarence Budington Kelland

·         A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms when his hands are empty.  ~Author Unknown

·         Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.  ~William Wordsworth

·         Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father!  ~Lydia M. Child, Philothea: A Romance, 1836

·         Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance.  ~Ruth E. Renkel

·         A father carries pictures where his money used to be.  ~Author Unknown

·         It is much easier to become a father than to be one.  ~Kent Nerburn, Letters to My Son: Reflections on Becoming a Man, 1994

·         The words that a father speaks to his children in the privacy of home are not heard by the world, but, as in whispering-galleries, they are clearly heard at the end and by posterity.  ~Jean Paul Richter

·         Any man can be a father.  It takes someone special to be a dad.  ~Author Unknown

·         The greatest gift I ever had
Came from God; I call him Dad!
~Author Unknown

·         I love my father as the stars - he's a bright shining example and a happy twinkling in my heart.  ~Terri Guillemets

·         Dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder will remain with me forever.  ~Author Unknown

·         You will find that if you really try to be a father, your child will meet you halfway.  ~Robert Brault, www.robertbrault.com

·         Why are men reluctant to become fathers?  They aren't through being children.  ~Cindy Garner

·         Fathers represent another way of looking at life - the possibility of an alternative dialogue.  ~Louise J. Kaplan, Oneness and Separateness: From Infant to Individual, 1978

·         There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself.  ~John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery, 1994

·         There are three stages of a man's life:  He believes in Santa Claus, he doesn't believe in Santa Claus, he is Santa Claus.  ~Author Unknown

·         Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope.  ~Bill Cosby

·         When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around.  But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.  ~Author unknown, commonly attributed to Mark Twain but no evidence has yet been found for this 

Some wise words about gratitude

Develop an attitude of gratitude, and give thanks for everything that happens to you, knowing that every step forward is a step toward achieving something bigger and better than your current situation.

- Brian Tracy

What you focus on expands, and when you focus on the goodness in your life, you create more of it. Opportunities, relationships, even money flowed my way when I learned to be grateful no matter what happened in my life.

- Oprah Winfrey

Wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving.

- Kahlil Gibran

Gratitude is riches. Complaint is poverty.

- Doris Day

You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in the ink.

- G. K. Chesterton

Joy is a heart full and a mind purified by gratitude.

- Marietta McCarty

There is nothing better than the encouragement of a good friend.

- Jean Jacques Rousseau

Kindness trumps greed: it asks for sharing. Kindness trumps fear: it calls forth gratefulness and love. Kindness trumps even stupidity, for with sharing and love, one learns.

- Marc Estrin

To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live gratitude is to touch Heaven.

- Johannes A. Gaertner

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, confusion into clarity.... It turns problems into gifts, failures into success, the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into important events. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.

- Melodie Beattie

To educate yourself for the feeling of gratitude means to take nothing for granted, but to always seek out and value the kind that will stand behind the action. Nothing that is done for you is a matter of course. Everything originates in a will for the good, which is directed at you. Train yourself never to put off the word or action for the expression of gratitude.

- Albert Schweitzer

The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.

- Eric Hoffer

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice.

- Meister Eckhart

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

- Marcel Proust

Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others.

- Cicero

The Tarrytown Lakes and the Hudson River Valley Estates

The longer I live outside of New York State, the more I realize how privileged I was to grow up there. Tarrytown, the town where I grew up, is a lovely small village on the Hudson River. A short drive from the center of Tarrytown along Neperan Road and you will suddenly find yourself at the beautiful Tarrytown Lakes and the small forests surrounding them. The Tarrytown Lakes would freeze solid during the winter months, and we spent hours there after school ice-skating—practicing our twirls and fantasizing about being figure skaters. The boys would be playing ice hockey any chance they got. We would make our way into the shed by the side of the lake to warm up a bit and then out we’d go again. There were always lots of children skating; that’s where you went if you wanted to meet your friends after school during the winter months. During the autumn months, the trees would change color and the foliage was a sight to behold. My brother and his friends spent many hours fishing at the Tarrytown Lakes. Swimming was not allowed because the lakes were reservoirs for drinking water.

If you continued along Neperan Road, you would come to a point where you could make a left onto Lake Road (I don’t remember if it had a different name some years ago). If you drive along Lake Road, you will eventually come to the Rockefeller Park Preserve where you can run, bike, or walk for miles. When we were children, our parents would pack us into the back seat of our car for our weekly Sunday drives during the spring and summer; we often drove along Lake Road that merged into Bedford Road that passed through the Rockefeller Park Preserve. Sometimes we would stop and get out of the car to walk over to the horses standing by the fences waiting for a handout of sugar cubes. Sometimes we watched the sheep or the cows. I remember thinking as a child how beautiful and expansive and green the land was during the summertime, and how blue the sky was with its lovely puffy white clouds.

Broadway, also known as Route 9, runs through the center of Tarrytown. If you drive south along Broadway, you will discover two lovely estates with historic homes (now museums) located on the riverfront—Lyndhurst and Sunnyside. Lyndhurst was the home of Jay Gould, the railroad tycoon; it is now managed by the National Trust for Historic Preservation, while Sunnyside was the home of the famous author Washington Irving, who wrote The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Sunnyside, along with Philipsburg Manor, Kykuit, and Van Cortlandt Manor, are managed by the Historic Hudson Valley, a non-profit organization started by John D. Rockefeller. The Rockefellers were and are a very wealthy New York family; they have used their wealth and clout to promote education and environmental protection in New York State, and supported these endeavors quite early on. I have had the pleasure of visiting Lyndhurst many times, especially as a teenager; in recent years I have visited Philipsburg Manor and Kykuit together with my friends Jean and Maria when I have come to NY; this year we’re talking about possibly visiting Sunnyside and Lyndhurst again when I visit NY in August.

Lyndhurst especially holds some special memories for me. The two Dark Shadows films (House of Dark Shadows and Night of Dark Shadows from the early 1970s) were filmed there. As I have written about in an earlier post about Dark Shadows, my friends and I would wait at the entrance gate each day after school for the filming to be over, so that we could meet the actresses and actors and get their autographs. A few years later, during our junior year in high school, our English teacher, who was interested in film-making, gave us the opportunity to make two short (three or four-minute) films during our last semester, which were then shown to the entire school during a one-day film festival. It was a lot of fun to learn how to use the movie camera (8mm film at that time), how to cut and splice the developed film, and how to thread the film projector. One of my ‘creations’ was filmed at Lyndhurst; I used Jethro Tull’s song Living in the Past and created a short film to the music using my friend Janet as my actress—dressed first in modern clothing, I had her climb over the entrance gate and then as she hopped down, she was suddenly dressed in a flowing old-fashioned long gown from the 1800s. I don’t remember where we got a hold of the gown. What I do remember is that the filming was done in slow-motion, so that when she jumped down off the gate, the slow-motion effects of her ‘transition’ from a modern girl dressed in jeans to an old-fashioned girl dressed in a long gown were just so cool to watch. Even when not filming, we often spent a lot of time at the estate, walking around and taking pictures of the landscape and the main house (Gothic architecture). Years later, during the mid-1980s, the grounds were opened to the public on Saturday evenings for picnics and then there would be classical music and jazz concerts once it got dark. I can remember attending a few of them with both friends and family. In some coming posts, I will include some photos of the Tarrytown Lakes, Lyndhurst, Philipsburg Manor and Kykuit. They are beautiful places and if you ever find yourself in New York State in the Tarrytown area, visit them. You will not be disappointed.

Oslo fjord photos

This past Saturday, the weather was beautiful--warm and sunny, and we were out on our boat. I had my camera with me as always, and took some shots of our surroundings. I'm hoping for more days like this one. Since last Saturday, all it's done is rain and I am ready for more sun-filled days.......Enjoy the views!

The market economy in Norway

In keeping with the theme of my previous post, I thought I’d write about the economy in Norway generally. I’ve written a fair amount about my work life here in Norway since I started this blog a little over a year ago, but not so much about the type of market economy that exists here. The common view is that Norway is a socialist country, however that is defined, but the reality is in fact much more complex.

The New York Times and other American newspapers are very fond of presenting Norway in a glorious light—you can almost see the halo as they sing the praises of Norway and of Scandinavia in general—especially when they discuss the social welfare system, paid health care, subsidized education, shorter work hours, longer vacations, and other things that make daily life easier. The fact of the matter is that Scandinavia and the USA have some similarities and some differences when it comes to matters of the economy and social support systems. And to some extent, both countries could learn from each other. Norway is not an absolute socialist state that shuns capitalism; it is a mixed market economy that includes aspects of both capitalism (privately-owned industry) and socialism (public/state regulation of markets). It is the strong regulatory component and the involvement of the state in any aspect of a market economy that makes diehard capitalists in the USA uneasy. But the USA is also considered to be a mixed market economy. The major difference between the USA and Norway is that government involvement in the market is much less in the USA than in Norway and Scandinavia generally. But it is not true that there are no market and trade regulatory agencies in the USA. A Google search turned up a number of such agencies, among them: Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC—“responsible for enforcing federal laws that make it illegal to discriminate against a job applicant or an employee because of the person's race, color, religion, sex , national origin, age (40 or older), disability or genetic information”), Federal Trade Commission (FTC—“responsible for preventing unfair methods of competition in commerce as part of the battle to “bust the trusts”), and the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA—responsible for protecting health and the environment). These exist to protect employees, fair trade, and the environment, but how well these agencies function, or how much power they actually have, is anyone’s guess. I really don’t know the answer to that. And last but not least, who can forget the Security and Exchange Commission (SEC), which exists to “protect investors, maintain fair, orderly, and efficient markets, and facilitate capital formation”. In other words, they police Wall Street to a certain extent, whether Wall Street likes it or not. And Wall Street needs policing, as the recent packaged loan scandal and resultant global greed demonstrate. I believe that in the absence of rules and regulations, entropy ensues. Greed becomes dominant and the middle class and the poor end up suffering. It seems as though the SEC was just as much taken by surprise as the rest of us (was it asleep?) when it came to the recent corruption on Wall Street. That shouldn’t be. In any case, the rich will always survive well, in any country, and that goes for Norway too. The truly rich enjoy privileged lives here just like they would anywhere else—big houses, vacation cottages, yachts, fancy cars, multiple vacations each year, etc. Wealth has its privileges in any country.

But the fact remains that none of the privileges that Scandinavian citizens enjoy come ‘for free’. All of them are funded through taxes. I’ll simply refer to Wikipedia for information about the tax system in Norway—it’s easier than my trying to explain something I am not very competent to discuss in detail http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Economy_of_Norway. But suffice it to say that the Norwegian government uses the tax system to raise money for public expenditures such as those I’ve mentioned already—comprehensive universal healthcare and a comprehensive welfare system. There are three components of the tax system: a) progressive taxation (there is a marginal tax rate on income, and Norwegians are taxed for their stated net worth); b) value-added tax (VAT), which is the largest source of government revenue--the current sales tax is 25% for most store items, 14% for food and drink, and 8% for movie tickets and public transportation; c) special surcharges and taxes on a number of items including cars, alcohol, tobacco, and various kinds of benefits (info from Wikipedia). I don’t have a problem with paying higher taxes knowing that the revenues go to fund universal public healthcare and those sorts of things. What I do have a problem with is paying an inordinate amount of money for a new car. New cars cost a lot of money, much more than most Americans would be willing to pay. For many years, my husband and I drove very old cars simply because we could not afford to buy newer (and more environmentally-friendly) cars. We drove gas guzzlers and exhaust-spewing old cars. Environmentally-friendly? No. Affordable, yes. Now we have a better personal economy, but still, I would not buy a new car because of its expensive sticker price. When new car prices come down, I’ll re-think it. But it has always seemed strange to me that a country that prides itself on being ‘green’ has done little or nothing to encourage its citizens to buy cars that don’t pollute the environment. I believe the reason is because they would prefer that people did not drive cars at all (a pipe dream if ever there was one). But that idea lies dead in the water. No matter how much the authorities encourage the use of public transportation, the fact remains that people will continue to use their cars because they are the most convenient way of getting from point A to point B despite a fairly efficient public transportation system within Oslo. The public transportation system within the city is in fact very good—punctual for the most part, with good connections between trams and buses. But it is expensive. A single ticket to ride the bus or the tram will cost you close to 6 USD at present. If you buy a Flexi-kort (8 rides), that will cost you about 30 USD. If you use your car, regular gas is more expensive than diesel; gasoline costs about 2 USD per liter (1 US gallon = 3.78541178 liters), so a gallon of gasoline costs about 7.5 USD. That’s a lot of money, and I don’t think Americans are willing to pay so much for gasoline. Americans will need to re-think their attitudes about how much tax they are willing to pay if they want universal comprehensive healthcare, for example. The only way that can be done is to raise taxes, and raising taxes is never popular politics for any president or political party.

So what is it that many American politicians, corporations and employers fear when they look at Scandinavian economies? It seems to me that the largest fear is that government regulation of business will become too extensive and that taxes will increase in order to fund social welfare programs. The rich may fear being taxed excessively in order to ‘distribute the wealth’ more fairly. It’s hard for me to imagine why a society would fear a more equal distribution of wealth and universal healthcare. It has something to do with the American idea that we should be independent and survivors—pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps and don’t rely on anyone else for help. Which is all well and good if it were true. The truth is somewhere in between complete self-reliance and complete dependence on the government. Most Americans I know work hard, save money to buy homes and cars, and save money toward retirement. But the inequities start when you realize that a comprehensive healthcare program really only exists for those working for private companies that pay for these programs for their employees. If you are self-employed, you must pay for your own health insurance as far as I understand from those Americans I know who are self-employed. So problems start there if self-employed people fall ill or cannot go to work for a few days. If they cannot afford insurance, they must pay through the nose for medical care. Having universal low-cost healthcare for all is a worthy goal and has nothing to do with a socialist mentality. The costs of medical care are only going to increase as people live longer and as the medical research profession continues to find cures for different illnesses and diseases. The cures cost money—to develop, to test, and to promote. Nothing is ever free in this life. We pay for everything in one form or another. The questions just become—how much are we willing to pay for the goods and benefits that we enjoy, and is it fair that whole segments of the population that don’t work for others cannot enjoy these benefits?

Work-life balance in Norway

The Huffington Post just published a list of the 10 countries worldwide that have the best work-life balance; Denmark topped the list, followed by Norway in the number two spot. Finland and Sweden also made the list, as did the Netherlands, France, Belgium, Switzerland, Portugal and Germany. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/06/01/top-ten-countries-with-work-life-balance_n_868224.html#s285271&title=1_Denmark

The USA was conspicuously absent. The work-life balance as defined by the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) was assessed using three indicators: “(1) the amount of time spent on personal activities; (2) the employment rate of women with children between 6 and 14 years of age; and (3) the number of employees working over 50 hours a week”. Scandinavia in other words has a good work-life balance, meaning that work life does not eat up all free time, leaving time for personal activities and for child-raising. After living here for over twenty years, I can attest to the fact that there is a good work-life balance here. But I also have to say that after studying and working in New York City for over ten years prior to moving to Norway, it took me a long time to let go of the idea that I had to work long hours to get ahead, to have a successful career. So when I first moved to Norway, I worked long hours, as did my husband who is Norwegian. We are both scientists, so there is no fixed time that one must spend in the lab. Your weekly hours are often defined by the types of experiments you are doing that week in the lab. Sometimes the experiments required 60-70 hour weeks. Sometimes they required that we worked one or both weekend days. The life of a scientist is not really a 9 to 5 affair. But I see now that the younger scientists are making it so. They are getting their experiments done between 9am and 4pm, because many of them have to leave then to pick up their children from daycare. There are a lot of factors that figure into this new equation; young couples make deals with each other—one drops off the child in the morning and the other picks up the child in the afternoon. Maybe they alternate weeks or months—such that each person gets a chance to stay a bit longer at work if necessary. But by and large, they are better than my husband and I were at leaving work at a decent hour each day. I often say to my stepdaughter that I wish we had spent more time with her when she was growing up. Not that it seems to have affected her too much that we worked late hours or talked a lot about science when she was a child. She has also chosen a career in science, as has her husband.

The point is that it’s possible to have a good career here without killing yourself, without working 70-80 hour weeks. But that’s where the problem begins for foreigners who work here, and I am not just speaking for myself now. You come to Scandinavia with your expertise, competence and willingness to work hard and to make a good impression. You end up working overtime and it is not necessarily looked upon favorably. It does not score you any extra points as it might in the USA. In fact the opposite is true, you might be viewed rather suspiciously—why are you working so hard when the others around you have gone home? What is it you are trying to prove? Are you trying to make the others look bad? It was exceedingly hard for me to accept that this is how I might have been viewed at one point when I had first come to Norway. One of the elderly professors at my institute—who did appreciate long hours and hard work—often said that if he was at work late, he knew that it was only foreigners who were there working late along with him. The Norwegians had gone home for the day. This is not absolutely true. I know a number of Norwegian medical doctors and scientists who put in long hours each day. But overall, the general attitude is that it is not necessary to kill yourself, so if you choose to do so, you do so at your own ‘risk’ without promise of reward. You do so because you absolutely love what you do; you might even be slightly obsessed with your work—a workaholic. I was one for a while. I am not one anymore, for a number of reasons. But ultimately, it becomes hard to not be influenced by the society you live in. In the beginning, I worked overtime, worked holidays, and took short summer vacations, simply because that is the way I did things in New York. My husband, who also loved his work, did the same. Our life proceeded in this way for about fifteen or so years; after that a lot of things changed, especially for me. Suffice it to say that hard work does not always yield the expected rewards. I don’t regret working so hard, but I don’t work that hard anymore. The problem with letting go of the ‘work hard’ ethic was the guilt associated with giving up my intense work ethic. Believe me, guilt is real. It nags at you. It tells you that you should be working when you are doing something fun. I’m past the guilt now. I will never be Norwegian, but I have adopted the Scandinavian work ethic. And in the process, I have learned something about myself and about the society here. It is possible to get a lot done in a shorter amount of time. It is possible to let go of the idea of having to be at work and having to be so incredibly efficient all the time. It is possible to not be a robot for the company you work for. And by letting go of my workaholic life, I found time for my hobbies—writing, photography, biking, cultural events, and so forth. Not that I didn’t try to do these things when I was working 70-80 hour weeks; just that it wasn’t always feasible because I was so tired. And that’s the main difference now. If I go home at 5pm, I have an evening ahead of me—to plan as I want. It may mean dinner out for me and my husband, or it may mean that I have more time to prepare a good dinner at home. It means that we can take a walk in the evening without feeling exhausted; it means that we don’t just come home anymore and collapse in front of the TV, dead tired after a long day in the lab.

Why is it possible to have a good career here without having to kill yourself with overwork? Because at some point, you hit the salary ceiling. For example, as senior scientists, we make decent salaries and get cost-of-living raises each year (and sometimes small merit salary increases if we have done something extra special during the year). But we know that we are never going to get huge raises, and there is a ceiling above which we cannot rise unless our job title changes to Research director or Hospital director. So staff scientists who have worked in their positions for a number of years, cannot rise very far salary-wise above their fellow staff scientists, thanks in part to the union we belong to, which ensures each year that the small amount of money appropriated for individual merit raises gets spread fairly among the members. You can rebel against this idea, or you can learn to accept it. Either way, you won’t find yourself in a ‘special’ or ‘favored’ position. That’s just the way it works here. The ‘goods’ get spread around, like it or not. And sometimes I haven’t liked it because it means that the lazy workers benefit in the same way as the hard workers. The hard workers are not necessarily rewarded. That’s the flip side of the coin. That’s the negative aspect that you simply have to learn to swallow. You’re on your honor here. If you slack off, you get paid anyway, and you most likely will not get fired. Workers’ rights are strong here—very protected. If you work overtime, you won’t get paid any more than someone who works normal hours, at least not in academia. So you end up choosing to work normal hours, to value your free time, to use your vacation time (30 days each year), to take a week off at Christmas and at Easter, and to sometimes leave work early in the spring and summer when the sun appears. After twenty years in Norway, I understand why people leave work early when the sun comes out to go sit outdoors in cafes and restaurants, or at seaside cottages, or wherever. Because the sun is to be worshipped---the months of summer pass quickly and then we are back to the dark winters again. I have learned. I love the sun, I love my free time, and I look forward to summer vacation. There is something to be said for an easier and more peaceful life after years of working long hours, overtime, and intense striving, first in NY and then in Norway during the first ten years or so until I finished my doctorate. I’ve let go of my earlier intense work ethic after some internal resistance, and I can honestly say that I don’t miss it. I still have a strong work ethic, but I've made room for the other things in my life that are just as important, if not more important, than work alone. That's what balance means, and when I was younger, I didn't have that balance between work and life outside of work. 

What Georgia O’Keeffe Said

Georgia O'Keeffe was born in 1887 near Sun Prairie, Wisconsin. She is one of America's most important modern artists, well-known for her bold, beautiful and colorful flower paintings. She had some important things to say about art, courage, being an artist and being a woman. She died in Santa Fe, New Mexico, an area of the USA that she loved, in 1986.

·         Making your unknown known is the important thing.

·         To create one's own world, in any of the arts, takes courage.

·         Where I was born and where and how I have lived is unimportant. It is what I have done with where I have been that should be of interest.

·         I said to myself, I have things in my head that are not like what anyone has taught me -- shapes and ideas so near to me -- so natural to my way of being and thinking that it hasn't occurred to me to put them down. I decided to start anew, to strip away what I had been taught.

·         When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.

·         I decided that if I could paint that flower in a huge scale, you could not ignore its beauty.

·         I'll paint it big and they will be surprised into taking the time to look at it – I will make even busy New Yorkers take time to see what I see of flowers.

·         I think I am one of the few who gives our country any voice of its own.

·         One cannot be an American by going about saying that one is an American. It is necessary to feel America, like America, love America and then work.

·         One can't paint New York as it is, but rather as it is felt.

·         Now and then when I get an idea for a picture, I think, how ordinary. Why paint that old rock? Why not go for a walk instead? But then I realize that to someone else it may not seem so ordinary.

·         I found I could say things with colors that I couldn't say in any other way -- things that I had no words for.

·         I don't see why we ever think of what others think of what we do -- no matter who they are. Isn't it enough just to express yourself?

·         I feel there is something unexplored about women that only a woman can explore.

·         I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life -- and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do.

·         The days you work are the best days.

·         You get whatever accomplishment you are willing to declare.