W, X, Gen-Y, Z...

Were we this blase about the life around us while growing up?

As a so-called Gen-X (born between the Baby Boom & 1980) I don't understand the Gen-Y (roughly 1980-1994) amongst us. Typified by the character Jaye Tyler (Caroline Dhavernas) in the brilliant and quirky series Wonderfalls, these kids bring a new meaning to the word existentialism by adding the corollary, "I'm sorry - what does that have to do with me?" Yet and still an entire set of way to relate to them have been formulated in the workplace and in marketing to them.

Over the weekend while traveling through a small community here in Australia, I stopped at a service station for some gas. I think because it was a Sunday the counter was manned exclusively by Gen-Y'ers including a southern hemisphere edition of Jaye at the counter. Now being American, in these small towns it generally causes a stir when they hear my native accent spoken. Stepping up to our Jaye-alike, I said in my usual painfully American accent "I was at pump number 2." Without looking up from her magazine she held her hand out for my credit card, processed it, and handed it back to me without losing her place in the article.

What coolness! Would no pathos be effective? I could just see this scenario:

Jaye-alike: How ya going?
Me: Fine! I'll pay for this gas and I'll have a bucket of pigs blood to dump on someone's head at the prom tonite, thanks.
Jaye-alike: We don't sell pigs blood. Try the gas station across the street. See ya latah.

Sure you think it's far fetched, but I'll lay odds it could happen.

- Farmer Ted

International House of Horrors: How many more...

Today marks the 5th anniversary of the War in Iraq. Funny how now it can be called a war when at first it was carefully couched in other terms so as to not invoke any Constitutional challenge. Yet with very few exceptions in Washington, we were propelled by misplaced jingoism into a war bolstered by arguments that have now been shown definitively to be patently false.

Reasons that to me were never enough justification for what I knew in my heart was ahead. And every day, for every life lost, I mourn. For every smug utterance of continued justification, I'm incredulous.

Blaise Pascal wrote:
"It is your own assent to yourself, and the constant voice of your own reason, and not of others, that should make you believe."

My inner voice told me not to believe. And if only our lawmakers had taken a little time out to listen to their own, this is one anniversary that might not ever have happened.

- Farmer Ted

International House of Horrors: He said, she said...

Why do they remind me of an old bickering married couple?

Yes, I'm talking about the good Senators Rodham-Clinton and Obama. As a declared non-party affiliated person (can that be declared?) I'm just sitting by watching the whole sordid mess unfold. And boy is it uncomfortable. Sorta like being at a dinner party at a couple's house and watching them as they trade mean-spirited snipes at each other all night.

From arguing about who is more racist, to accusations of questionable contributions, to whether being a black man is an unfair advantage (someone help me with THAT one!) it's all left me feeling slightly nauseated at the both of them.

And like being trapped with that married couple, all you do is wish you were elsewhere.

- Farmer Ted

I'd forgotten what I've missed...

Back in the US for work and let me tell ya, just in the 18 hours I've been here already I've realized there are things that I've missed:

Half & half for my coffee. Australians invariable ask me "half what and half what?" but WE all know what it is. Regular milk in coffee? Puleez, you may as well just add water too it. And having a skim of fat from regular cream makes you want to run a sponge over your coffee first to sop it up. Yeah, half & half is god's perfect creamer.

How to use the "h" sound - properly. Now I can say "herbal tea" without sounding retarded by pronouncing the leading "h".

Service apathy. There is nothing like making a purchase and then being a non-entity the moment the transaction is finished. Or even more typically, while the transaction is going on.

That's when I knew I was home.

- Farmer Ted

Observing the Aussies: Feeling the heat...

"We're having a heatwave, A tropical heatwave!"

Irving Berlin may have been referring to a shimmy-ing woman, but I'm referring to heat shimmering off the pavement. It is blasted hot here again with no end in sight.


While in the US this would be grounds for a CODE RED with warnings to limit activity, free giveaways of fans, advice to drink lots of fluid, actions to get any homeless into shelters and admonishments if you don't check on elderly relatives and neighbors; here in Australia it's met with a resounding silence. And while newspapers in any US city melting under this constant onslaught of heat would be filled with stories of heat-related casualties, if there are any heat injuries here they are carefully suppressed. So much so if you ask, no one will be able to say they've ever heard of any. While all I hear is Heat Miser singing.

Survival of the fittest I guess, mate.

- Farmer Ted

Sorrow deferred...

The passing of someone you knew well always hurts.

Monique Smith and I worked many hours together archiving and cataloging and learning the history of African Americans in North America. She was also a talented artist in whose work I took delight, collecting several pieces for display in my home, proud to have them.

Part of the problem with being so far away from the US and my life there is sometimes news is delayed. And just last week I received the belated news that Monique had died in January.

I can't even express the pain that shook my heart at the thought of the loss to myself and the world of this very bright person who was always living to her dreams. And it didn't matter it was almost six-weeks after the fact. To me, the sorrow is as sharp and keen as if it happened yesterday.

And for me, her passing happened the day I heard.

Marianne Williamson wrote, "The purpose of our lives is to give birth to the best which is within us."

Monique's life had purpose. And she will be missed.

- Farmer Ted

On a bicycle built for two...

Guess what - I've started riding a bicycle again! While this may not seem like much to an average reader, for me it's a momentous occasion since the last time I rode a bicycle was about 30 years ago and I have never in my life had to buy one before since the last one I had I found waiting for me under the family Christmas tree.

I've noticed more than a few things have changed since then. This bike (called a "push bike" or "pedal bike" in Australian) is really for knocking around and I picked it up at the nearest big box store. Even so it has 18, count them, EIGHTEEN gears. Now I remember when a 3- or 5-speed was the norm and if you had TEN, woo-hoo! You were ridin' high.

That said, I'd also been shopping for a proper bike from bicycle shops. Did you know bicycles were fitted today? Like shoes or pants? You have to make sure it feels right and rides comfortably before they'll even sell it to you. While a far cry from picking any old thing it does seem a bit over the top for a leisure cycler like me. After all, Lance Armstrong I'll never be.

But I've taken to it pretty well short of a few aches and an unmentionable bruise or two. Kinda amazing the places you can cycle to in just a few minutes and back vice hauling out the gas guzzler.

Maybe there is something to this going green thing after all.

- Farmer Ted