The other day I had a quintessentially Bellingham Moment. I had ridden my bicycle to the Public Market. It's a lovely place with a food market full of organic, free-trade and - sometimes - too airy-fairy, too flaky for words goods as well as the home of a group of wonderful small, locally owned restaurants. I had some business with the owner so I did that and went out to the bike rack to retrieve my bicycle.
There was a young woman, most likely in that 25 to 35 age demographic. She'd temporarily parked her bicycle there to take a call on her cell phone. She was all in a spandex biking outfit, black with red and yellow accents/reflectors that fit her like a glove. And she certainly had a glovely body entirely appropriate to spandex.
Like most people talking on cell phones she had no awareness of her voice volume. She was, in her own mind, alone with her phone conversation. Thus I would have had to have been deaf not to overhear her conversation. She was answering with a series of "yeses" and "I understands" and "umm-hmms" until she concluded the conversation with, "I understand. You need a quote on up-grading your coverage to an umbrella policy for 3 or 5 million. I'll get you that quote and call you back. You too. Good-bye."
With that she closed her cell phone. Took her bike from the rack, flashed me a sunny smile and rode off. I'm sure that her other bike is a Beemer.
Now I'm not about to say that this is an "only in Bellingham" moment. I'm sure that such things happen even more frequently around Stamford or Darien, Connecticut and in some sections of Los Angeles as well as elsewhere. But the organic grocer, the young woman bicycler in spandex and the 7-figure money amounts...that's a Bellingham moment if ever there was one.
Showing posts with label Bellingham. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bellingham. Show all posts
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Street Signs III: They belong in a cell
Ah, yes! Cell phones!
Let me say up-front that I hate them. In Africa, India, the Himalayas, the Gobi and Sahara Deserts, the jungles of the Amazon and Orinoco basins and the steppes of Asia, even in the Arctic and Antarctic there is some justification for cell phones. In Boston, in Bellingham, in cars there is no justification whatever!
There is a retail chain for which I see ads on television called Car Toys. I believe that the owners, directors and executives of that chain should be jailed and fined a bazillion dollars each just for naming their chain Car Toys. Please let me explain.
Yes, I freely admit that I am a Luddite. I didn't own a PC until 2001. For the most part I avoid instant messaging. I have e-mailed but I have never "texted" a message and hope that, if I ever do, someone will be kind enough to put me out of my misery immediately. Just the usage of "text" as a verb makes my skin crawl. It's as disgusting and awful as "orientate" and "mischievous" when it's mispronounced "mis-CHEE-VEE-us". Just for the record one writes. One does not "text". To give something an orientation one orients it. And the adjective form of "mischief" is correctly pronounced "mis-CHIF-us". Those other usages and pronounciations are as grating as fingernails on a blackboard or, worse, some dunce sitting nearby and talking on a cell phone about something utterly banal and annoying.
I haven't owned an automobile since 1982. In the Boston area it was largely an unnecessary expense. I could get just about anywhere I needed to go on the bus-subway-commuter rail system known as "The T" as short for the MBTA or Metropolitan Boston Transit Authority. While riding "The T" into the age of the cell phone I was forced to listen to the private conversations of private people delivered at a volume that would make Pavarotti envious. On one notable occasion I was stuck on a train out of North Station in Boston seated next to a Yuppie hot-shot who was decked out in the appropriate style complete with cell phone and laptop. He had his laptop open and had brought up some site or other having to do with finance. He called someone ostensibly at a financial organization and was looking for information on his account. He proceeded to speak at full voice, "Hello, Darlene. This is Studley Everprep and I want to talk to you about my investment account. The account number is 'S' as in 'Sam', 'E' as in 'Echo', 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9. I need to make a trade on that account. Can you help me with that? Fine! Yes, I'd like to sell 30 shares of Amalgamated Upscale and buy 80 shares of YupCo Industries. Correct! Yes. Thank you. You can deposit the balance to my account at Usurer's North American Trust. Do you have the account number on file? Yes. Yes, that's correct. Yes, it's 4-3-2-1-9-8-7-6-5. Super, Darlene! Thank you." He then proceeded to call a second broker or whoever and complete a similar transaction. He was about to dial a third time when I turned to him and said, "Do you really want everyone on this train to know that you're Studley Everprep whose investment acount number is SE123456789 and whose bank account number at Usurer's North American Trust is 432198765? Is it really a good idea to give anyone listening the information with which to clean out your bank accounts?"
The initial look of annoyance and exasperation on his face quickly changed to one of paniced horror. He was blessedly quiet for the rest of the time I was on the train though he did cast alarmed glances at me and some of the others around us now and again. He may have had no accounts anywhere and could simply have been faking the call in order to impress some object of his lust sitting nearby but his cowering fear after I interrupted him tend to make me believe that the calls were genuine and any attempt to seduce with money and status was secondary.
The fact is that cell phone users either delude themselves into believing that they are alone or they aren't entirely convinced that the satellite will bounce their call electronically so they are trying to bounce their voice off that geosynchronous relay as a safety measure. They do not seem to care that no one else within earshot, or at least anyone who wishes them well, could not care less that they will be home in 20 minutes, that they are on the bus or that their boy/girlfriend is (choose all that apply):
a) cute
b) sweet
c) hot
d) rockin'
e) a shit
f) sleeping with (make your own list here)
g) going to find out that he/she's got an STD
f) etc.
But the issue that really puts this into the realm of a diatribe entitled "Street Signs" is the issue of DWP, driving while phoning. It needs to be a crime and I mean that in all seriousness. I am not joking or being hyperbolic in the least. Using a cell phone for anything while driving a motor vehicle should be a crime with punishments at least as severe as driving while intoxicated.
In December, 2005 I'd agreed to help a friend of a friend by dressing as Santa Claus and trying to recruit customers to her business. In that capacity, in full Santa costume, I was standing on North State Street in Bellingham waving to passing cars. I hadn't been out on the sidewalk very long when a car came speeding down the street. The woman in the car was talking on a cell phone that she held to her left ear with her left hand. She saw me and waved to me with her right hand as she passed. Now, forgive me for not believing that she was a 3-armed mutant or possessed with prehensile nipples but who in hell was driving that car? Not only was she not driving and not driving safely but she probably should not have been driving at all.
Since then I have nearly been run down by a driver running a red light while pedestrians, including me, were in the crosswalk. She too was talking energetically on a cell phone. I am sure that she was focused completely on the personal issue under discussion but she nearly killed 3 people because she was not focused on controlling a ton or two of speeding metal and glass.
More than a decade ago I heard a report on the radio from a person at some electronics show in Tokyo. The reporter mentioned an object the size of a ballpoint pen. When the button on the top of the device was pressed it jammed all cell phone transmissions and reception within a 3-meter radius. As it happens, owning and using those devices are illegal in the United States. Now I am usually a law-abiding sort but that is one law I would eagerly break daily. I don't just want one of those jamming devices. I need one. A simple, unobtrusive gesture hidden in an inside pocket would free me and all within about 10 feet of me from the obnoxiousness of cell phone users.
It wouldn't make the streets any safer but it would remove some of the annoyance. What we need badly before the death toll mounts is legislation that makes it a criminal felony punishable by jail time and loss of a driver's license to use a cell phone for any purpose other than a paperweight while driving any kind of motor vehicle.
O.k. I'm done now. At least until until the next near miss by a driver with a cell phone to his or her ear.
Let me say up-front that I hate them. In Africa, India, the Himalayas, the Gobi and Sahara Deserts, the jungles of the Amazon and Orinoco basins and the steppes of Asia, even in the Arctic and Antarctic there is some justification for cell phones. In Boston, in Bellingham, in cars there is no justification whatever!
There is a retail chain for which I see ads on television called Car Toys. I believe that the owners, directors and executives of that chain should be jailed and fined a bazillion dollars each just for naming their chain Car Toys. Please let me explain.
Yes, I freely admit that I am a Luddite. I didn't own a PC until 2001. For the most part I avoid instant messaging. I have e-mailed but I have never "texted" a message and hope that, if I ever do, someone will be kind enough to put me out of my misery immediately. Just the usage of "text" as a verb makes my skin crawl. It's as disgusting and awful as "orientate" and "mischievous" when it's mispronounced "mis-CHEE-VEE-us". Just for the record one writes. One does not "text". To give something an orientation one orients it. And the adjective form of "mischief" is correctly pronounced "mis-CHIF-us". Those other usages and pronounciations are as grating as fingernails on a blackboard or, worse, some dunce sitting nearby and talking on a cell phone about something utterly banal and annoying.
I haven't owned an automobile since 1982. In the Boston area it was largely an unnecessary expense. I could get just about anywhere I needed to go on the bus-subway-commuter rail system known as "The T" as short for the MBTA or Metropolitan Boston Transit Authority. While riding "The T" into the age of the cell phone I was forced to listen to the private conversations of private people delivered at a volume that would make Pavarotti envious. On one notable occasion I was stuck on a train out of North Station in Boston seated next to a Yuppie hot-shot who was decked out in the appropriate style complete with cell phone and laptop. He had his laptop open and had brought up some site or other having to do with finance. He called someone ostensibly at a financial organization and was looking for information on his account. He proceeded to speak at full voice, "Hello, Darlene. This is Studley Everprep and I want to talk to you about my investment account. The account number is 'S' as in 'Sam', 'E' as in 'Echo', 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9. I need to make a trade on that account. Can you help me with that? Fine! Yes, I'd like to sell 30 shares of Amalgamated Upscale and buy 80 shares of YupCo Industries. Correct! Yes. Thank you. You can deposit the balance to my account at Usurer's North American Trust. Do you have the account number on file? Yes. Yes, that's correct. Yes, it's 4-3-2-1-9-8-7-6-5. Super, Darlene! Thank you." He then proceeded to call a second broker or whoever and complete a similar transaction. He was about to dial a third time when I turned to him and said, "Do you really want everyone on this train to know that you're Studley Everprep whose investment acount number is SE123456789 and whose bank account number at Usurer's North American Trust is 432198765? Is it really a good idea to give anyone listening the information with which to clean out your bank accounts?"
The initial look of annoyance and exasperation on his face quickly changed to one of paniced horror. He was blessedly quiet for the rest of the time I was on the train though he did cast alarmed glances at me and some of the others around us now and again. He may have had no accounts anywhere and could simply have been faking the call in order to impress some object of his lust sitting nearby but his cowering fear after I interrupted him tend to make me believe that the calls were genuine and any attempt to seduce with money and status was secondary.
The fact is that cell phone users either delude themselves into believing that they are alone or they aren't entirely convinced that the satellite will bounce their call electronically so they are trying to bounce their voice off that geosynchronous relay as a safety measure. They do not seem to care that no one else within earshot, or at least anyone who wishes them well, could not care less that they will be home in 20 minutes, that they are on the bus or that their boy/girlfriend is (choose all that apply):
a) cute
b) sweet
c) hot
d) rockin'
e) a shit
f) sleeping with (make your own list here)
g) going to find out that he/she's got an STD
f) etc.
But the issue that really puts this into the realm of a diatribe entitled "Street Signs" is the issue of DWP, driving while phoning. It needs to be a crime and I mean that in all seriousness. I am not joking or being hyperbolic in the least. Using a cell phone for anything while driving a motor vehicle should be a crime with punishments at least as severe as driving while intoxicated.
In December, 2005 I'd agreed to help a friend of a friend by dressing as Santa Claus and trying to recruit customers to her business. In that capacity, in full Santa costume, I was standing on North State Street in Bellingham waving to passing cars. I hadn't been out on the sidewalk very long when a car came speeding down the street. The woman in the car was talking on a cell phone that she held to her left ear with her left hand. She saw me and waved to me with her right hand as she passed. Now, forgive me for not believing that she was a 3-armed mutant or possessed with prehensile nipples but who in hell was driving that car? Not only was she not driving and not driving safely but she probably should not have been driving at all.
Since then I have nearly been run down by a driver running a red light while pedestrians, including me, were in the crosswalk. She too was talking energetically on a cell phone. I am sure that she was focused completely on the personal issue under discussion but she nearly killed 3 people because she was not focused on controlling a ton or two of speeding metal and glass.
More than a decade ago I heard a report on the radio from a person at some electronics show in Tokyo. The reporter mentioned an object the size of a ballpoint pen. When the button on the top of the device was pressed it jammed all cell phone transmissions and reception within a 3-meter radius. As it happens, owning and using those devices are illegal in the United States. Now I am usually a law-abiding sort but that is one law I would eagerly break daily. I don't just want one of those jamming devices. I need one. A simple, unobtrusive gesture hidden in an inside pocket would free me and all within about 10 feet of me from the obnoxiousness of cell phone users.
It wouldn't make the streets any safer but it would remove some of the annoyance. What we need badly before the death toll mounts is legislation that makes it a criminal felony punishable by jail time and loss of a driver's license to use a cell phone for any purpose other than a paperweight while driving any kind of motor vehicle.
O.k. I'm done now. At least until until the next near miss by a driver with a cell phone to his or her ear.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Way Out West: Initial Observations
The first thing that's apparent is that the water is on the wrong side. I'm a New Englander. Boy, am I a New Englander! Some of my maternal ancestors came over on the Mayflower in 1620. They spread out to Maine and later to Connecticut where I was born, but for nearly 500 years we've been New Englanders. That's why the ocean here is in the wrong place. In the natural order of things west is inland and east is toward the ocean if not in it already. Yet, though I've lived in Bellingham, Washington for 4 years now, the ocean is still, definitely on the wrong side.
Also, in New England there are no active volcanoes. Here I live in the shadow of Mt. Baker. It's beautiful. It's impressive. It could erupt and wipe out this city and everyone in it, kind of like Pompeii. That's different too.
Before moving here I spent most of the last 25 years in Salem, Massachusetts. Yes, it's the Salem of the 1691 Witch Trials and home to quite a number of firsts in this country. On my way to the train that took me to work in Boston I regularly passed a half dozen or more houses built before 1700. You don't hardly find that here. To be sure, the Native American history of Bellingham extends back centuries before my illegal immigrant ancestors came ashore at the place on the Massachusetts coast they called Plymouth. But a lot of that history has been obliterated by later in-migration and the rest tends to be guarded as the proprietary information of the present tribes. That heritage is certainly the property of the peoples whose ancestors lived it. Sharing some of it more freely would help promote more general understanding, I think. Yet I understand the need to horde resources toward rebuilding a culture that my ancestors spent nearly 500 years trying to obliterate.
The history of European settlement does get back into the 18th Century but the parts that are that old tend to be shrouded in mystery for the average person. The official memory here extends back about 125 years. In 2004 the City of Bellingham celebrated its 100th Anniversary. Salem was 100 years old when George Washington was having his 4th birthday. That's different too.
Apart from the historical and geographical differences I have to say that this is unquestionably the most beautiful place in which I've ever lived. The beauty of the natural setting is just breathtaking. I've long believed that poetry only happens near the sea or in mountains. With both in close proximity there is no end to the poetry of and inspired by this place.
That's enough for now. I'll write more about the contrasts later.
Also, in New England there are no active volcanoes. Here I live in the shadow of Mt. Baker. It's beautiful. It's impressive. It could erupt and wipe out this city and everyone in it, kind of like Pompeii. That's different too.
Before moving here I spent most of the last 25 years in Salem, Massachusetts. Yes, it's the Salem of the 1691 Witch Trials and home to quite a number of firsts in this country. On my way to the train that took me to work in Boston I regularly passed a half dozen or more houses built before 1700. You don't hardly find that here. To be sure, the Native American history of Bellingham extends back centuries before my illegal immigrant ancestors came ashore at the place on the Massachusetts coast they called Plymouth. But a lot of that history has been obliterated by later in-migration and the rest tends to be guarded as the proprietary information of the present tribes. That heritage is certainly the property of the peoples whose ancestors lived it. Sharing some of it more freely would help promote more general understanding, I think. Yet I understand the need to horde resources toward rebuilding a culture that my ancestors spent nearly 500 years trying to obliterate.
The history of European settlement does get back into the 18th Century but the parts that are that old tend to be shrouded in mystery for the average person. The official memory here extends back about 125 years. In 2004 the City of Bellingham celebrated its 100th Anniversary. Salem was 100 years old when George Washington was having his 4th birthday. That's different too.
Apart from the historical and geographical differences I have to say that this is unquestionably the most beautiful place in which I've ever lived. The beauty of the natural setting is just breathtaking. I've long believed that poetry only happens near the sea or in mountains. With both in close proximity there is no end to the poetry of and inspired by this place.
That's enough for now. I'll write more about the contrasts later.
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