Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Six degrees...

By now everyone around the world has heard about the massacre at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg VA. Big questions will always remain about why this happened, how it could be prevented, and which entity is culpable for what are arguably missteps by authorities all around.

But it took on a more personal note for me when I realized a co-worker had a daughter attending the university. Upon checking with the person last night, I found out to my great relief that their daughter was fine; but that she was the roommate of one of the students murdered.

That really set my mind back.

I remember similar fears: when I was in Paris attending classes in the 90's a subway bombing happened in a train at the stop by our residence. I remember us all counting our classmates, trying mobiles to locate the missing folks. Were any on that train? I remember when the last group of students came rushing in. How we all started hugging each other crying tears of relief - males & females. You just couldn't help it. Turns out this last group had been on the doomed train but had gotten off the stop before and were still on the platform when it exploded shortly down the tunnel.

The memories this event stirred up made me realize how much we are all connected and sometimes by a very short social distance. It's that "six degrees of separation" theory made real. Like between me and the happenings at Virginia Tech? 3 degrees of separation. Myself and a victim of the WTC on 9/11? 2 degrees. Me and a victim of the OK City bombing? 3 degrees.

But I have more delightful associations too: Between me and a participant in the 1963 March on Washington where Martin Luther King delivered his "I Have A Dream" speech? 1 degree. And between me and a person who held one of the balloon floats in the 2006 Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in NYC? 2 degrees.

Which just goes to show that for good or ill, we are all in this together.

- Farmer Ted

Friday, April 06, 2007

Vegemite? Vege-not...

Ok. I've heard enough about Vegemite since I've been here. Australians seem to view their love of vegemite with all the seriousness of Americans and their TV remotes.

Take a guy I know, D-Man, who's physical conditioning is something even Lance Armstrong would envy. I came upon him at lunch spreading the noxious brown goo on toast (THE definitive way to have it, according to those here) waxing poetic about it's virtues.

I don't know about all that.

What I do know is that I've seen the current commercials on TV depicting a kid trying to do his homework under the eyes of his harridan mother. Suddenly through his bedroom door come the ghostly flickering black and white images of the kids from the 1950's "Happy Little Vegmites" ad; screaming their unholy theme song with the lead "little girl" threatening to beat him senseless with her baton. As the mother looks on indulgently from the doorway, our little hero is feverishly trying to complete his homework before our Little Vegemites, looking for all the world like pop-and-lock escapees from the TV in the movie The Ring, threaten to take his soul and imprison it down a dank black well.

No wonder he gets his homework done in record time. It's a small price to pay to get reprieved from Vegemite hell.

- Farmer Ted