Category: travel

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The Cos on the Cleanup

Bill Cosby spoke at a rally in NO,LA about reconstruction:

Cosby, whose criticism of some aspects of modern African-American culture has stirred controversy in recent years, told a rally headed by black leaders that the city needed to look at the “wound” it had before Katrina struck.

“It’s painful, but we can’t cleanse ourselves unless we look at the wound,” Cosby told the rally of about 2,000 people in front of the city’s convention center.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you had the highest murder rate, unto each other. You were dealing drugs to each other. You were impregnating our 13-, 12-, 11-year-old children,” he said.

“What kind of a village is that?”

In yesterday’s Washington Post, Pastor Johnny Ray Youngblood also discussed the introspective portion of the rebuilding process:

With Katrina, as with East Brooklyn and North Philadelphia and Southeast Washington, the way out is straight ahead. We have to act our way out of this — as in constructive action by hopeful actors who work with a trowel in one hand and a sword in the other.

We have to raise our own money, not just wrestle over government money. We have to find our own housing sites. We have to hire and monitor builders and developers who work for us, not for some bureaucrat in Washington.

We have to deflect all the hustlers and talkers within our community who see this catastrophe as just another opportunity to shake people down and line their pockets.

We have to see this as a generational struggle — 10 years, maybe 20 — not as a quick fix.

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Moon Over Malaysia

Check out the Virtual Memories Podcast!

I’m headed to the BIO conference in a few weeks. It’s in Chicago this year, a city that I haven’t seen much of. I had a parenteral drug conference there in the spring of 2000, and enjoyed the environs and architecture. I’m hoping for a little more time to get out and explore this time. This trip will unfortunately be contrasted by another conference two weeks later in Anaheim.

The BIO conference is dominated by regional economic development councils, which are intent on bringing biotech companies and their manufacturing facilities into their areas. These EDCs have a lot of incentives to offer and different ways of enticing companies to set up shop. I wrote all about it in the April issue of my magazine; I’ll post a link to that piece when it’s available, in case you’re interested in the stuff I spend my days working on.

A lot of these EDCs want trade magazine editors to visit during BIO, so they can explain to us what their region has to offer. Sometimes this evolves into a trip to that region; that’s how my Sweden/Denmark trip in August 2004 happened. I’ve been to a few other sites as part of this process: Puerto Rico, Spokane, WA, Phoenix/Scottsdale, and probably some others that I’m forgetting. Generally, I’m too busy to travel on some many junkets, so I make the rounds at BIO and learn what I can about the regions.

Which leads me to the invite I received from a PR firm by e-mail today. They’d like me to sit down for an interview with the CEO of the Malaysian Biotechnology Corp., the government agency devoted to building a biotech industry in that country. It was a pretty gracious invite, and it’s flattering that the firm considers my magazine worth the interview-time.

But I looked at the invite for a few moments, thinking, “Malaysia . . . Malaysia . . . Oh, that’s right! They won’t let you into the country if you have an Israeli passport!”

I spent a few minutes researching to make sure that was the case (which led me to the previous Prime Minister’s anti-semitic comments from 2003). Yup! Malaysia doesn’t recognize Israel’s existence (but does recognize Palestine’s: whew!).

I was prepared to write off the invite then and there, but it occurred to me that Israel might have the exact same policy. You never know. I’d hate to be more of a hypocrite than I already am.

I ended up having to call the Israeli consulate to clear up the issue: Malaysians aren’t treated differently than any other nationality coming to visit Israel; they just need a visa like anyone else. I told the young lady on the phone about Malaysia’s policy. She said, “Ooh. That’s not nice.” We agreed that my mother wouldn’t be happy about it, either.

After that, I struggled to write the e-mail to the PR rep. I didn’t want to take on an adversarial tone, or imply that she was morally compromised by helping represent Malaysia. But I did want to express my point of view about what I wouldn’t meet with them. I went with

I know this is going to sound terrible, but I can’t in good conscience discuss the attractions of a biotech base in a country that would turn away most of my family at the border because of the passports they carry.

As near as I can tell, Malaysia has a blanket ban on entry by Israeli nationals (with case-by-case exceptions), and I’m afraid that I can’t publicize/promote a country with that policy.

If I have my facts wrong, please let me know ASAP.

Thanks,

Gil Roth

Now there’s only a problem if the MBC decides to start advertising. Still, it wouldn’t be as bad as taking an 8-page ad insert from Sudan, like the NYTimes did. I was hoping it would open with the banner: “Sudan: More than Genocide and Civil Wars!”

Check out the Virtual Memories Podcast!

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Always with the pictures

Just downloaded the pix from my digital camera!

Snaps from our stay in Healdsburg, CA (near Sonoma)

We drove through Monterey and the 17-Mile Drive in Pebble Beach.

Then we spent two nights in Big Sur.

I’ll write all about it soon. We’re still cleaning up the house, getting food-shopping done, writing thank-you cards, and all that post-wedding/post-trip stuff. And gazing blissfully into each other’s eyes, which makes it tough to type.

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Honeymoonin’

Flew to San Francisco last night, via Houston, picked up our rental, and drove on up to Sonoma. For our first dinner as husband and wife, we stopped at the In-N-Out Burger on 101 north of SF.

Now we’re staying in an artsy villa with a really weak wireless connection for the laptop. After the stress of the last few weeks (more work-related than wedding-related), it’s nice to be able to relax and not have to be anywhere. It was wonderful to have so many of our friends and so much of our family together for the weekend, but it’s serious sigh-of-relief time right about now.

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The Morning After

We’re married! The wedding was wonderful! The guests danced, ate, drank, and otherwise made merry! I have NO pictures yet! (but as soon as we get them, I’ll start posting stuff)

As wonderful as the whole evening was, as great as our first dance was, as lovely as Amy looked in her wedding dress, the hands-down best moment of the evening came after we left the venue.

The photographer wanted to shoot some pictures of us outside, with Jackson Square in the background. When he was done, Amy & I walked over to our hotel, passing the Cafe Du Monde. A ton of people were having late-evening beignets and coffee at the open-air cafe. Someone saw us in tux and gown and shouted, “Congratulations!”

Then another. Then another. Then the entire cafe was applauding and congratulating us as we walked by. I stopped and gave Amy one of our great husband-and-wife kisses, which led to a great cheer from the cafe-goers.

It was magic.

Wedding bonus: Here are the readings we asked our friends Scott and Cecily to perform before we got to the vows:

Amy’s reading

Excerpt from a 1950s home economics textbook titled The Good Wives Guide

Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs.

Prepare yourself: Take 15 minutes to rest so you’ll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking.

Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to see him. Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first. Remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquillity where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit. Don’t greet him with complaints and problems. Don’t complain if he’s late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.

Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low soothing and pleasant voice. Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgement or integrity.

Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

A good wife always knows her place.

–Author Unknown

A Word to Husbands

To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
Whenever you’re right, shut up.

–Ogden Nash

Gil’s reading

Laughter

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lanceflower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in your joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.

–Pablo Neruda

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Today we drink, tomorrow we marry!

We got our marriage license Friday morning. The woman at the clerk’s office of the parish courthouse knew Amy from childhood, so her part of the process was pretty smooth. However, when it came to asking me, “Which state was your father born in?”, we discovered that they weren’t prepared for the answer of “Cluj, Rumania.” But everything went off pretty smoothly.

We made it into our hotel in the city yesterday and met up with numerous early-arriving wedding-guests, including my parents (both Scylla AND Charybdis!). Ate beignets at Cafe Du Monde, had dinner at the Asian Cajun, and drank a bunch of gin with friends.

Today, we meet with the DJ, pick up tuxes, get a spa treatment-thing that Amy booked, and get all our parents in the same room for the rehearsal dinner (heavy on dinner, light on rehearsal). Then we hold court at Pat O’Brien’s for more of the early-arriving guests.

Bourbon Street was pretty lively last night. A group of us, including one guest’s 13-year-old son, walked down a ways to meet up with Amy & her group of buddies. I laughed about the idea of being 13 and walking down that street, but the kid didn’t seem too fazed.

Haven’t taken any pix since I got here, but I’ll try to take a couple tonight. They’ll be stupid candids in a bar, but those are cute, I guess.

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The Greatest and Most Natural Movement

Good article by Robert Hughes on Rembrandt, in honor of the 400th anniversary of the artist’s birth. It turns out that Hughes likes one of my least favorite R. paintings, The Polish Rider, which I saw at the Frick and was convinced was a joke.

Discussing the majesty of Peiro, Raphael and Poussin, he writes

But what you are not likely to feel is a sense of community with these magnificent products of human thought and imagination. Were there really people who looked like this, who could be seen walking the streets of Rome, Arezzo or Paris? Who could be spoken to, and answer your voice? It seems implausible. We look at them for quite different reasons. We admire their difference, and their distance, from us.

But then there are artists whose work is not like this. They are the ones who acknowledge human imperfection and mortality. And not only acknowledge it, but in some sense glory in it, making it the prime subject of their art. For if men and women were perfect, mentally, physically, morally, spiritually, why would they need art at all?

For that, we need Rembrandt. I’ve written about his paintings a few times in the three years I’ve been keeping my virtual memories (I missed my blogiversary a few weeks ago), but I’ve only done so tentatively. The best of it was probably in this Interminably Long Ramble.

If you’re going to be in Amsterdam in the next few months, you should check out the Rembrandt-Caravaggio exhibit that Hughes’ article is plugging.

If you’re a fine art aficionado and a NASCAR fan, check out the Rembrandt 400.