Spanning the Globe

A dearly demented friend introduced me to the thrill of TerraServer yesterday. Since then, I've enjoyed several hours exploring with this online source for aerial photos. I've haven't exactly spanned the globe, but I've traveled I-35 from Guthrie to Edmond, Oklahoma, gone over the river and through the woods to Grandma's house, and checked whether people in India could view the junk on my back patio. If you have zero bucks in your travel budget, try surfing around on this site!

Most of the aerial photos are in black and white, or more properly, in different values on the grayscale. You can also check the topographic maps for the same location. This can be made into a game of The Earth is Flat, but it is flattest in _______________. Try pitting Levelland, TX against Ouray, CO, or Lubbock, TX against Hot Springs, Arkansas. By the way, Hot Springs was the home of K-GUS radio, with" fifty thousand Sparkling watts of clear power" a long time ago. I am honored to work with a former drive-time DJ from K-GUS.

The voices of Curt Gowdy and Jim McKay were constants in my 1960's childhood, but they did not carry the same gravitas as the voice of Walter Cronkite. "Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sport. The thrill of victory; and the agony of defeat. The human drama of athletic competition. . . ." was a powerful media impact on my generation, right up there with the spinning plates on Ed Sullivan, if not a Gemini countdown.

As I look at aerial photos of crop circles near Grant and Imperial, Nebraska, I see spinning plates, but also quilt blocks made by of several generations of women living in white houses during the Dust Bowl era. Looking at the photos of the De Soto Bend National Wildlife Refuge where the Missouri River repeatedly jumped its banks and changed course, I see Diebenkorn and Thiebald paintings. My grandma's house was on a corner lot. From her big, shady porch I can follow the diagonal walk to the intersection, then look at the lake formed by damming the mud bottom creek where we used to wade.... Visit the quarry lakes near Fremont to see some lovely lace. Follow a river down the "agony of defeat" slalom.

Several years back I found a paperback called Desert Skin at a used book shop. The book by Thomas Miller has grayscale photos of the Colorado Plateau just itching to be studied and painted by young students. Every time I use the pages from the book, now mounted and laminated, the students gain a greater understanding of shading and value, and of the patterns created by natural forces on the surface of our planet. The tempera paintings are always frame-worthy.

U C D V?

The five and six year olds were so excited about building their own palaces of Wali Dad that I couldn't get their attention. I wanted them to fold their pieces of tag board in half, open them again with the spine/crease up, and fold the two ends to meet at the center. If you fold up the tag board and look at it edge on, you will see a V-shape, and then a W.

Regaining the students' attention often requires a weirdness factor. If I just speak louder, all that happens is the noise level and my blood pressure rise. I've never had good luck with the Clap-Clap-clap-clap-clap class signal, and turning off the overhead lights communicates a level of teacher desperation, not control.

That's why weirdness works best for me, although some would say it's just doin' a what comes naturally. Start wearing a paper hat, and kids get curious. Start directing an incoming 747 on the tarmac with two tp tubes, or tap kids gently with my magic wand, and they get curious. Start pantomiming the next step in the project, and they realize the teacher is from another planet*. Start singing, and I scare the children, so that's out for me. Start dancing, and I can usually get the class back with me, although it's not a pretty sight. Then start speaking in fangy Transylvanian, faux French, or Muppets Swedish Chef, and they are eating out of my hand. Putting a Buddy Holly cassette in the tape player and playing air guitar is good, too.

Monday was the first time I ever started writing in secret code. William Steig's classic book, CDB flashed into my mind, and I wrote "U C D V?" on the dry-erase board. A couple kids started to sound out the word. (Go ahead and try it. Sounds like a kid trying very hard not to be carsick.) I shook my head no, and pointed to one letter at a time. More kids were noticing. I started silently demonstrating with the folded tag board. V. V. V... Moved on to demonstrating the next fold like a flight attendant for the hearing-impaired.

U C D W?

O S, I C D W!

To William Steig, I have to say, "N Q!"

And now, at the end of the day, "I F-N N-E N-R-G".


*Some say men are from Mars and women are Venutians, but I think teachers have to be from Saturn with the spinning rings. I'm not the only person who compares teaching to the man with the spinning plates on the Ed Sullivan Show.

C N-E?

My True Calling

This CollageMama is so old that she learned to build things with Legos using her imagination. In the olden days of the 1960's, Legos were sold without movie tie-ins or restricting instructions. They were for building, just like Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs, alphabet blocks, and Erector Sets. We used my brother's Legos to build many things, but our favorite activity was constructing camper vans and pick-up campers. These were the glory days of Sunday t.v. with Ed Sullivan, Topo Gigio, Davey and Goliath, My Favorite Martian, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, and Lost in Space. We drank Fresca without fear of cyclamates. It was a different world. Dinah Shore sang about seeing the "USA in your Chevrolet", and Alexander Calder designed Braniff airplanes.

Dallas is losing its Delta Airlines hub and many jobs this month. Flight attendants and pilots are being transferred to other hubs like Salt Lake City and Atlanta. I heard part of "Car Talk" on NPR today while driving to Target. One caller asked Click and Clack about living in an old VW Westfalia Synchro camper van (Segment Six) in the long-term parking of the San Francisco airport. She was a pilot being transferred from her home in Alaska. I wonder if she was a Mattel Little Kiddle.

A Dallas friend of mine will have to be based in Salt Lake City to keep her job. This is extremely inconvenient, especially since she will also have to spend many nights in Omaha. She needs to know about the Car Talk camper van plan. I could build her a camper van if I had enough Legos. I have lots of experience!

Many of our Lego constructions were intended to be moon-rovers and the "chariot" from Lost In Space, so basically precursors to SUVs. Our other creations were pick-up campers that fit in the back of my brother's large metal Tonka trucks. These homes on wheels were for my sister's Little Kiddle dolls, mainly because we didn't have enough Legos to build homes for Barbies and Johnny West. Having also played the Beatle's stewardess game, I think I have many qualities needed to house displaced airline employees. Maybe I should get in touch with Jimmy Carter. Legos have been accumulating for fifty years or so now. Like National Geographics, no one wants to throw them away. Maybe Bill and Melinda Gates would fund a Lego Relief Airline Housing initiative.

Since Bush is messing with Social Security and Medicare, I expect to spend my retirement years sitting in a small, drab room eating Spam. That's why I'm holding onto my kids' Legos. I think I'll build some nifty red, yellow, and blue intergalactic space colonies for Barbie, Midge, and Ken.

Cole Porter

Enjoyed looking at some road maps from the Fifties and Sixties last week. I got a kick out of the Skelly and Sinclair maps. We didn't buy gas at the Skelly station when I was a kid, but we did go to Jerry's Sinclair on the northeast corner at 48th and Randolph. As kids, we lusted after the Sinclair inflatable Dino dinosaurs displayed in the window.

The movie "De Lovely" has renewed interest in the music of Cole Porter. That was the music I grew up with. I would lounge on the wall-to-wall carpet near the hi-fi trying to memorize the witty lyrics. On Sunday evenings, very late, like eight o'clock, I think, after Ed Sullivan, we would watch the "Dinah Shore Show". Of course my younger siblings would already be asleep in crib or bassinet. This was Big Girl Time! This was time for Skyline Dairy Swiss Almond Ice Cream.

So, to get back on track, I bought a cd of authentic Cole Porter recordings last week. It included Dinah Shore singing, "You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To". I really only remembered her singing, "See the USA in your Chevrolet!," and twirling about in a satin gown in front of a car the size of Delaware. I was little. I was pretty sure Dinah Shore was somewhere in the kitchen strumming on an old banjo.

During a big blizzard in about 1965, my dad had to get back to Eastridge from downtown Lincoln. He was able to inch the pea-green '54 Chevy to somewhere near 40th and J Street before it got stuck. He left the car, and headed out on foot wading through the over-the-knee drifted snow. He trekked through the Tabitha Home area and over to Jerry's Sinclair.

Meanwhile, back at the Strauss House Eastridge ranch, we were playing Chutes and Ladders and working jigsaw puzzles on folding card tables in the living room. We were very worried about Daddy, lost out there on the Siberian tundra! Remember the first time you watched "Dr. Zhivago"? It was a thrilling moment when we caught sight of an Abdominal Snowman slowly making its way from Cotner Blvd. through the poplar and pine trees into our backyard. Daddy was home! Our hero! Our frosty daddy, just as brave as those Friendship Seven astronauts we watched on the only tv* at Eastridge Elementary!

By the way, I am so old I remember Gas Wars and 21 cents a gallon gas. Usually the guy who pumped our gas also offered us free steak knives, or tropical-hued thermal tumblers, mugs, and pitchers.

*Yes, Eastridge School had a tv. For all NASA space launches the students would gather in the library to sit on the floor and watch. Some other day I will share my favorite memories of early educational television

Definition Diva

Lately my female kindergarten and first grade students have been drawing pictures of themselves as lead singers in a band called "The Divas". Slightly older girls refer to themselves as "shopping divas". This seems like a really odd elementary school vocabulary word. The impression I get from these girls is that they identify with a personification of self-justified, self-centered mass-consumerism and instant celebrity. Is it just me, or is this a symptom of a culture rotting from the inside out?

What is a "diva"? When I told my opera friend that I liked the voice of Brunnhilde on the Metropolitan Opera broadcast of "Gotterdammerung" yesterday, he told me, "Jane Eaglen as Brünnhilde was superb. She is a grand diva. " His usage of the word is clearly positive, conveying respect for a lifetime of achievement and talent. That fits with my American Heritage Dictionary definition:


An operatic prima donna. [Italian, "goddess," from Latin, feminine of divus, god.]

So what is a prima donna? Again the dictionary:

1. The leading female soloist in an opera company. 2. A tempermental and conceited performer. [Italian, "first lady"]

The Online Etymology Dictionary (see link) defines diva as:

diva - "distinguished woman singer," 1883, from It. diva "goddess, fine lady," from L. diva "goddess," fem. of divus "divine (one)."

From online slang dictionaries:

diva n 1. goddess, queen; literally "first woman." ("She is such a diva.") Submitted by Brent Edwards, Pullman, WA, USA, 14-04-1998.

http://www.ocf.berkeley.edu/wrader/slang/d.html

Noun:

Absolutely any woman, regardless of talent, who establishes a singing career and appears on television.
"...to the contrary, Pete - over the past decade we've witnessed a veritable explosion in the population of divas, for instance. In fact, our research shows that the years between nineteen ninety and the present date saw the emergence of more divas than the previous one hundred years. Ultimately, I think that reports of the death of high culture simply don't square with the numbers."
Source: Joshua B. Wright, Apr 7, 2004

A female who is doing tha damn thang. She got her shit together and she doesn't need a male to know that she looks good.Mary J. Blige


a bitchy woman that must have her way exactly, or no way at all. often rude and belittles people, believes that everyone is beneath her and thinks that she is so much more loved than what she really is. selfish, spoiled, and overly dramatic.Source: charmain, Sep 11, 2003
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=diva&f=1


When I polled my demographic group, that is Carole and Shawn at lunch today on the patio at the French restaurant, they were unanimous in voting "diva" as a negative term.

When I search Dogpile I find VenusDivas who are full-figured fashion models, and GreenDivas, who are golf women with attitude and discretionary income.


There's also a site welcoming me to the "World of Divadom" with this definition:

Half of the population of our planet are women and consequently, half of the famous faces seen on the screen and in concert halls throughout this century are women. Wonderful voices and superb acting techniques, not to mention beautiful faces, abound. But who are the tiny minority who can be considered as true divas in our Give Good Face and Sirens categories? What sets these women above all others in their particular fields? What has happened to these women to entitle them to the status of diva?
Obviously everyone has different criteria for bestowing the title of diva on their own chosen few. Our criteria (and it is that which counts as this is our site!) are simple – extraordinary glamour, mystery, a liberal sprinkling of tragedy and most of all endurance throughout the years. These are women who will never be forgotten and whose image can be conjured up immediately by the mere mention of a name, song or movie.
Qualification for the third category Movers & Shakers differs in that, sadly, women make up a tiny minority – probably less than 1% of people who could be considered as 'Movers and Shakers' – politicians and those occupying significant places within ruling houses. Nevertheless, there does exist a minority within a minority who stand out as a result of their achievements and of fulfilling the standard requirements of mystery, tragedy and glamour. Love them or hate them – you will never forget them!
Do you agree with us? Who else should be there in the upper echelons of divadom? Who should not be there? What qualities are we missing? Take a peek at our list of wannabees - aka the no-noes - and what we are not looking for will become abundantly obvious! You disagree? Then tell us by using your democratic vote!
When voting or proposing a candidate for divadom - remember - Oscars, Tonys, Grammys and the like are all fine and dandy but do not necessarily bestow the accolade of diva! Our divas are way above the mundane world of awards and prizes! Tell us now and let’s make this the number 1 site to which every woman should aspire to appear!

I am feeling lucky that I raised boys and only had to deal with Ninja Turtle nunchucks and melting plastic army men with magnifying glasses. A diva of any sort seems like a scary role model for young girls. Playing "divas" seems like acting out a dream of being self-centered, self-promoting, materialistic, conscienceless celebrities. Make sure the camera gets the pink feather boa, tattoos, and navel piercing.

My mom thought playing "Beatles' Stewardesses" was sick decadence due to watching scandalous images on "The Ed Sulllivan Show". Beatles' stewardesses had to be nice to people, anticipate their needs, and make their lives more pleasant.

I'm not saying girls should aspire to be selfless servants in high heels. There must be something between that and aspiring to be shopping divas!