Feeling Under the Weather

In the middle of the week, while not feeling well due to some nasty bug that I had caught some place and which grounded me at home, I had to excuse myself from a couple of meetings.

“I am a bit under the weather” I declared, knowing that I would be understood with no further explanation. By stating this, I also excused myself for not finishing some tasks as I had planned. I felt relieved and pardoned for being a bit lazy for a couple of days and having more time for sleep and for reading in bed. In truth I almost welcomed it – it felt a bit like a mini-vacation – feeling free from all kinds of responsibilities.

I bet many people are “under the weather” at this time of the year, especially where it is cold and nasty. Suddenly I was puzzled why am I saying this, here in Tucson where the sky is blue most of the time and the sun’s intensity is as strong in winter as on Cape Cod in summer?

Why do we use this phrase “under the weather?” After all, weather is always upon us – sunshine, rain or snow – we are always under some kind of weather. The more I thought about it, the more intrigued I became. I wanted to know the origin of this idiom. And where could I find the answer for it if not on Google, right?

From MedicineNet.com I learned that this colloquial expression for sick or ill originated on British sailing ships. “When a sailor became ill he was confined below deck out of the weather, so it was said that he was under the weather.”

One of the Yahoo! ® ANSWERS informed me that the correct term is “under the weather bow” and referred to feeling adversely affected by bad weather. The explanation is that the weather bow is the side of the ship “upon which all the rotten weather is blowing.” This is according to the book Salty Dog Talk: The Nautical Origins of Everyday Expressions by Bill Beavis and Richard G. McCloskey.

I found a couple of very different explanations in answerbag ®.

By Anonymous on April 24th 2008:

“The phrase under the weather originally had nothing to do with weather. The correct phrase is under the wether. It refers to the fact that female sheep resist the efforts of the castrated male sheep to mount them. When the female is so ill that she cannot resist the wether’s attentions, she is literally under the wether.”

By joeymanos on April 16th 2010:

“I have heard that it comes from Maritime language. Apparently, when the captain of a ship wrote his log, he recorded the names of ill crew members directly beneath his description of the weather that day. Hence, ‘under the weather’.”

For me the first explanation of a nautical origin for “under the weather” is most convincing.

I was tempted to search and write about the expression “it is raining cats and dogs”

or “it was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey”

but I encourage you to find them yourself, while I sit on our sunny deck under Tucson’s blue sky trying to get rid of this “under the weather“ condition of mine.

Till the next post of my blog, warm greetings – Alicja

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Text copyright © 2012 by Alicja Mann. Image sources:

1. grahams-random-ramblings.blogspot.com/2007/10/under-weather-origin-and-meaning.html
2. thegrammargang.blogspot.com/2009/03/summer-time-is-over-in-oz.html
3. www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.html
4. Alicja Mann Photography
5. jonnytbirdzback on YouTube

The Cards of Life

I love all kinds of celebrations and New Year’s Eve is one of them. I am almost superstitious, believing that not celebrating that night might bring you bad luck.

Last year such a celebration took the form of a large party in our home with plenty of friends to warm up the coldest night of the year in Tucson. This year, after several months of racing with time to meet some important deadlines, I had the mood to celebrate the end of this year in “a bit” more glitzy way. So I persuaded David and a couple of friends to go (elegantly dressed) to one of the plushy resorts hidden in the foothills of Tucson’s Catalina Mountains that offered such a possibility. The fact that it promised to be a relatively inexpensive event and that one of my new “Jazz” friends, jazz musician George Howard, and his group would perform was a decisive factor.

The resort was surrounded with cool lights and we walked into the “Parisian night” theme of its lounge where the tables were decorated with red roses. The waiters in black and wearing characteristic French berets were cruising among the guests. Wow, that was exciting! I felt like a little kid ready for fun and adventure.

It was a night with the moon high in the sky and big stars on the ground (including George).

It was a night of elegant details in the clothing, which I found to be delightful.

It was crowded, it was noisy and it was fun — in my book.

That was New Year’s Eve, but then came New Year’s Day and a predictable reflective mood arrived dimming my sunny morning. That happens usually after some important celebrations like anniversaries, Christmases or birthdays.

My reflective mood usually brings some dark thoughts for a while. Memories of tragic events, images of people I miss, thoughts about unfulfilled promises or dreams that did not materialize crowd my mind. An image of myself emerges — identical to the real me, but much darker. That darkness is similar to the reflection of any image on a shiny surface (except a mirror) — a pool of water, a window or a very shiny table like the one I was sitting at on New Year’s Eve.

Thinking about this, playing cards came to my mind and I created one for myself. I made the choice of an ace of hearts. I like the hearts on it. I also like that it is the highest card, but can also be the lowest one! There is a challenging duality in it, just as in real life.

The playing cards for bridge or poker have mirror images on them — so identical that the way one holds a card does not matter. However, the cards of life, like mine, have to be handled with great care. If not, they might flip around and their dark side would be up and dominate.

Have a good year of 2012 — play your cards of life the best you can!

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Text and images copyright © 2012 by Alicja Mann.

Havel’s Star

Bright stars of the night… a strange idea was planted in my imagination a long time ago (in my childhood, I guess) that when a star is falling across the sky, it is a sign that someone is dying in a faraway place. It was a sad image and after some thought I decided to believe in a contrary concept—that when a person dies, their spirit goes up into the sky and… a star is born. So that’s why there are so many stars in the sky!

With a great sorrow I learned last Sunday that Václav Havel had died. My thoughts traveled immediately to beautiful Prague, to the starry sky above that city he loved. Although he died in his country house away from Prague, it is Prague that contains memories of Havel as a playwright, an intellectual, and as a leading dissident against the Communist system which consequently forced him to five years “residency” in prison.

Years later, after the Berlin wall fell—as the result of a hard won peaceful revolution by Eastern Europeans—Prague gained memories of Havel’s 14 years “residency” in a very different place, a presidential palace. He first became President of Czechoslovakia and later President of the Czech Republic.

Prague wrapped in the red power of Communism & Prague, a durable beauty of yesterday and tomorrow.

I am writing this today because I have been greatly influenced by Václav Havel’s writings — not so much as the playwright, but as the political activist and thinker. Coming from the same corner of the world, dealing with the same political and social issues, I have a special respect and adoration for the political activists and writers like Havel and Adam Michnik (of Poland) — for their vision, their passion and their intellectual leadership.

The only comfort one might have after Havel’s death is that his spirit is captured in his writings. So I spent an entire night re-reading pages and pages of Havel’s words.

Although I like Letters to Olga very much — it is a collection of Havel’s letters from prison to his first wife Olga Splichalova — I opted for some quotes from The Art of the Impossible, which is my favorite book by Havel. In this collection of speeches from the time of his presidency, Havel shares his views on today’s social and political issues.

Here I have the privilege to quote the words that resonate with me the most.

About Communism

Communism was not defeated by military force, but by life, by the human spirit….It was defeated by a revolt of color, authenticity, history in all its variety, and human individuality against imprisonment within a uniform ideology.

The totalitarian system of the communist type, as established in the former Soviet Union and subsequently imposed on all countries in the Soviet sphere of influence, not only destroyed political pluralism and the prospects of real political opposition, but annihilated politics itself as a field of practical human activity.

About politics

Despite the political distress I face every day, I am still deeply convinced that politics is not an essentially disreputable business; and to the extent that it is, it is only disreputable people who make it so….But it is simply that a politician must lie or intrigue. That is an utter nonsense, put about by people who—for whatever reasons—want to discourage others from taking an interest in public affairs.

When I look around the world today I feel strongly that contemporary politics needs a new impulse, one that would add a badly needed spiritual dimension. Perhaps this impulse will come from some place other than the postcommunist countries. Yet it seems to me that come it must.

The modern era has reached a point of culmination, and if we are not to perish of our modernness we have to rehabilitate the human dimension of citizenship as well as of politics. This is what I consider to be the principal challenge of our time, a challenge for the third millennium.

About democracy

Democracy is an open system, and thus is capable of improvement. Among other things, freedom provides room for responsibility. If that room is not sufficiently used, the fault does not lie with democracy, but it does present democracy with a challenge. Dictatorship offers no room for responsibility, and thus it can generate no genuine authority.

About power

It is obvious that those who have the greatest power and influence also bear the greatest responsibility. Like it or not, the United States of America now bears the greatest responsibility for the direction our world will take. The United States, therefore, should reflect most deeply on this responsibility.

About death

With a little exaggeration we might say that death, or the awareness of death—this most extraordinary dimension of man’s stay on this earth, inspiring dread, fear, and awe—is at the same time a key to the fulfillment of human life in the best sense of the word….Death gives us a chance to overcome it—not by refusing to recognize its existence, but through our ability to look beyond it, or to defy it by purposeful action.

Knowing that Havel liked jazz, I chose Jan Garbarek’s composition titled We are the Stars to honor him. I am pretty sure that he would like it and I hope you will like it too. Click on the title above to hear the music and here are the words.

For we are the stars. For we sing.
For we sing with our light.
For we are birds made of fire.
For we spread our wings over the sky.
Our light is a voice.
We cut a road for the soul
for its journey through death.

Have a peaceful Holiday — Alicja

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Please don’t forget the special offer at the end of my previous post.

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Text copyright © 2011 by Alicja Mann.
Photos of the book covers: first- Prague Time Life Books © 1980, second- Prazsky Hrad by Karel Plicka © 1962.

The Power of Books

Just looking at them
I grow greedy, as if they were
Freshly baked loaves
Waiting on their shelves
to be broken open— that one
and that….

fragment of “The Bookstall” poem
by Linda Pastan from “Heroes in Disguise”
© 1991

“Freshly baked loaves” — what a metaphor! That is how I feel about books and I am also greedy about them. Really, how could we live without books?

I love books and have been surrounded by them ever since I could read and write, because from that time I was given books as gifts for my birthdays, name-days, and other occasions. Oh yes, I was getting toys, but that was when I was a young child. Once I became seven, and could read pretty well, I was considered an “older” child and consequently expected to not even desire toys anymore. The same rule applied to other kids around me at the time of my growing up in Poland. So for Christmas we received books and games and not some “silly” dolls or cars suitable for the “little ones.” Somehow we did not mind and actually felt proud of that – we felt we were in a different category and a little bit closer to adulthood. Giving up toys — a peculiar rite of passage….

Written words and writers were always highly regarded in Poland.

Speaking of Poland and writers – a few years ago during one of my visits over there, I read a short piece of writing by my aunt’s great grandson, Jaś.

What Jaś wrote at the age of 10 (Jaś is the nickname of Jan) impressed me greatly. It fitted my concept of the importance of books in my life as a writer and a publisher. So I purchased Jan’s piece of writing just as I would from an adult writer (for the purpose of publishing) since I strongly believe that good writing should be rewarded and encouraged that way.

Here is the short story by Jan Zembowicz in my translation.

The One Who Dances with the Winds

One winter day I was very bored. So I went to the attic because there are always so many interesting things there. I found an old pen of my grandfather, a black-and-white TV, and a strange book. The title of the book was The One Who Dances with the Winds. It was covered with dust and looked very old with its yellowed and ragged pages.

When I started to read it, I felt the power to rule the weather. “Interesting, isn’t it!?” So I went outside to try it.

I danced the Dance of the Winds and a strong wind arrived. I danced the Snow Dance and snow started falling.

Suddenly two figures appeared. One was half transparent and the other was all white. Apparently they were the spirits of Nature. They told me that I was their ruler and that I had special power. I looked over my shoulder and saw that I had grown wings. “Super, I can fly!” Then I told the spirits to go away.

I noticed that the book was open, and I closed it. I lost my wings and found myself back in the attic.

I opened the book again and this time I found myself in a beautiful garden.

Now, when no one is around, I open the book and ….

Translated by Alicja Mann
© 2011 Word Studio

Jan Zembowicz — Warsaw 2006	Original text in Polish

During this Holiday Season include books on your shopping list. Happy giving time, happy receiving time, and happy reading time!

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SPECIAL OFFER

To honor this season of giving I offer any book from my publishing site as a free gift for becoming a new subscriber of my blog which I publish twice a month. The subscription is free and can be terminated at anytime.

Please follow the instructions positioned on upper right side of my blog. When you are confirmed as a subscriber, I will send you an e-mail for your instructions on where to send the book of your choice. The book will be shipped by Priority Mail.

This special offer is valid from today till the end of December. Happy Holidays!

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Text and photos copyright © 2011 by Alicja Mann.

Hello from Yesteryear

How about having a Thanksgiving feast with a touch of the 17th century? It is quite possible around this time at Plimoth Plantation. Plimoth Plantation? Yes, Plimoth Plantation is the living history museum of the 17th century in Plymouth, Massachusetts, just 45 miles south of Boston and a few miles north of the Sagamore bridge of Cape Cod. Plymouth is traditionally associated with the image of the first Thanksgiving celebration in 1621, perhaps better defined as a harvest celebration. The Pilgrims joined together with the “People of the First Light”, as the Wampanoag Native Americans refer to themselves, who had helped the newcomers survive their first harsh winter.

I never tasted a Plimoth Plantation turkey dinner while living on the Cape, but I tasted a variety of Wampanoag dishes when I was accepted as their friend and later became co-author and publisher of one of the books dedicated to their heritage — Son of Mashpee.

Now in Tucson — far away from Cape Cod and Plymouth — I am planning our Thanksgiving with a touch of southwestern style. However, while on the Cape in September I visited Plimoth Plantation and took some photos to share with you a little of its ambiance.

“Plimoth Plantation is a private, not-for-profit museum whose exhibits include Mayflower II, Wampanoag Homesite, the 1627 English Village, the Crafts center, the Nye Barn, and changing gallery exhibits. Each exhibit presents a unique aspect of the story of 17th-century Plymouth and the people who lived there,” as their brochure informs. The spelling of the name, Plimoth, also comes from the 17th century.

Indeed it is a rare and fascinating place. There is a lot to see and learn in Plimoth Plantation, but I can offer here just a small slice of what I saw — like a sliver of the traditional pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving.

On entering the English Village one gets enveloped by sights, sounds and smells from a far away past. The costumed role players of the village inhabitants are effective in convincing visitors that it is indeed the year 1627.

The Wampanoag Homesite in Plimoth Plantation is scenically located at the mouth of Eel River where their mishhoons, canoes made from hollowed-out tree trunks, are resting. The dome-shaped wetuash covered with bark and cattail reed mats was a comfortable summer dwelling. In winter the Wampanoags would move deeper inland, to their winter homes.

Everybody needs some bread! Every culture makes it a bit differently. In Plimoth Plantation visitors can learn how to make and bake corn bread. Kids especially are fond of that activity. I was watching them with great pleasure on that sunny September day, but could not quite dismiss the thought that in November and later months with cold and often wet days it could be a very different experience.

That visit into the past made me feel more appreciative of the conveniences in our contemporary life. So I am grateful for our comfortable homes with warm bathrooms and modern stoves.

Have a joyful time cooking, dining, and gathering on this coming Thanksgiving!

Alicja

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Text and photos (other than photo of Wampanoag Native American gathering) copyright © 2011 by Alicja Mann.

Water is Rising

When I made my small writing “wave” in July about the beautiful flag of Kiribati, the Pacific island nation slowly disappearing because of global climate change, I did not expect to see that flag in “real” reality so soon, or to have an opportunity for a conversation with “real” people of Kiribati. Well, I did last Friday, October 21st, right here in Tucson when the Water is Rising project performers made a big “wave” at the University of Arizona Centennial Hall, which was filled with people of all ages. This unique artistic event was sponsored by UA Presents.

Fragment of UA Presents flyer

And what is the Water is Rising project? It is a project of the UCLA Center for Intercultural Performance in collaboration with the Foundation for World Arts. Water is Rising is produced and directed by Judy Mitoma, Director of the UCLA Center, who has worked with Pacific Island cultures for over thirty years and has a deep understanding of them. The goal of the project is to educate and to increase the sensitivity of the American public about global climate change and how it is affecting the Pacific atolls of Kiribati, Tokelau, Tuvalu and other Pacific Island nations.

Professor Mitoma conceived the Water is Rising project after the emotional plea made by officials from Tuvalu at the 2009 United Nations Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen. Those officials asked world leaders to acknowledge the effect global warming was having on their islands.

Indeed, there is scientific evidence that the Pacific atolls are at risk of becoming the first cultures on our planet to be submerged in ocean waters and… disappear. The irony is that powerful industrial countries like the USA have been contributing greatly to global warming (causing to the ocean waters to rise), but the highest price will be paid by the smallest countries like Tuvalu.

Fragment from “The World of Ours”
Composed by Kelemene (2011)

The world of ours
It is not steady, it keeps
moving
We worry about climate
change
Oi! My Tuvalu, what will
happen?
Will we float into the
ocean?

Listen to my tiny voice
Crying out for help
Hear our plea from
Tuvalu
Our low and small
Pacific home

Through Water is Rising the voices of Kiribati (population 100,000), Tuvalu (12,000) and Tokelau (1,500) can be heard. After three years of preparation, 36 selected artists from these countries are touring the USA — performing and conducting educational programs for all ages.

Please visit www.waterisrising.com to learn more about the project and global climate change. The schedule of the tour is posted on that website and if you have a chance, see a performance of Water is Rising.

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First photo from UA Presents. Second and third photos from the website of Water is Rising. Text other than poem of Kelemene copyright © 2011 by Alicja Mann.

Columbus Day Darkly

How did you celebrate Columbus Day last Monday?

Columbus Day has been observed by most states of this country since 1937 when Congress and President Franklin Delano Roosevelt proclaimed October 12 a federal holiday as a result of lobbying by the Knights of Columbus.

Many Italian-Americans view Columbus Day as a day to celebrate their Italian heritage. Most of us, however, do not know how to celebrate that day, except enjoying a day off from work or going shopping. So on Monday I was wondering what was happening on Columbus Day besides special sales? Nothing or almost nothing, I discovered — nothing in Tucson, anyway, and most likely in the rest of Arizona. Sorry! Casa Grande held a 3-day event, the Arizona Soccer Tournament for the Columbus Cup.

Having had some issues about this holiday for some time, I decided to “observe it” by taking a long walk on Columbus Boulevard here in Tucson and thinking about Christopher Columbus. It was a nice and easy celebration — Columbus Boulevard is only a few steps away from our home and is a pleasant street for walking or jogging, especially the northern part of it that leads to the Rillito River.

Monday morning was sunny and warm and I truly enjoyed being reacquainted with the desert plants and houses along the boulevard. I had not walked it for a while, having been away from Tucson.

Columbus Blvd in Tucson

McCormick Park on Columbus Blvd

A charming spot along Columbus Blvd

Waterless Rillito River

My walk, in truth, was a nice procrastination from writing this post. I procrastinated the next day as well, since I found the issue of Columbus Day a difficult one to write about. Finally, I am writing today, on the “real” Columbus Day, October 12, so please bear with me!

Quite a few years ago I wrote (in one of my op-ed columns) about the dark side of Columbus Day but did not question the celebration of it. Today I do!

Five hundred nineteen years ago on October 12, 1492, Christopher Columbus and his sailors arrived in the Bahamas. When they stepped ashore, for the first time since the voyages of the Vikings, a small piece of the New World felt the presence of Europeans. That event changed the history of the world much more significantly than any other geographical exploration.

Why was there such a strong response in Europe to discovery of America? The author of “America in Europe: A History of the New World in Reverse”, German Arciniegas, addresses that question. “The fervor, the passion, the spontaneity that had been restrained for centuries broke their barriers and a new era was opened. Man began to declare his own rights, at the risk of anarchy. When one reflects with sufficient perspective on this deep, radical change, one finds the words that define this new course: Independence, Freedom.”

What was freedom and independence for newcomers became oppression, displacement, and loss of freedom for the indigenous people of this continent.

So why are we still celebrating the man who in truth was not a visionary about the existence of the New World, but stumbled upon it by mistake? At the time of his first voyage Columbus’ intention was not discovery of the New World but travel to India. Assuming that he had reached the “Indies,” Columbus named the native people of San Salvador “Indians” and since then “Indians” has become the name of the natives on both American continents.

Columbus’ attitude towards natives of the New World was less than admirable. It is not fair to judge that man of the 15th century by the standards of our thinking in the 21st century; still, it is impossible to like him while reading the well known excerpts from his logbook regarding the natives: “They do not bear arms, and do not know them, for I showed them a sword, they took it by the edge and cut themselves out of ignorance…. They would make fine servants…. With 50 men we could subjugate them all and make them to whatever we want.”

A quote from his second Voyage of 1495, when many Indians were taken as slaves and died on the way to Spain, is also telling, “Let us in the name of the Holy Trinity go on sending all the slaves that can be sold.”

I have to admit that I was oblivious to the dark side of the New World discovery for quite a few years of my living in this country and while living in Poland. Writing a book with a Chief of the Wampanoags of Mashpee (an American Indian tribe on Cape Cod) — Son of Mashpee — opened my eyes widely. At that time I read a lot of history of the Wampanoags and other tribes of American Indians. While reading, one could only cry….

Columbus Day has been a controversial holiday for a long time. Some feel ashamed of it. Some feel angry about it. Some wonder what to do about it.

It is obvious that we cannot change history, but I think we can and should stop celebrating Columbus Day. It would be very appropriate, in my opinion, to keep the holiday, rename it and dedicate it to those who were present in the New World when “discovered” by Christopher Columbus. Let’s follow the example of South Dakota that already celebrates Native American Day in place of Columbus Day.

And what do you think about it?

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Photos and text copyright © 2011 by Alicja Mann.

From Highways with Love

	A photo safari from the passenger seat

Northeast — Southwest

On the road again – go south and west my friend!

Trucks always fascinated me. How does one control such a big beast? And what is inside each of them?

When a truck is “naked”, it is even more interesting. I also love trucks’ shiny wheels. Here we are reflected in the hubcap of one of them. I am proud of that shot!

Today’s wind turbines adorn the landscape gracefully while generating electricity.

My affection for farms and farmland is captured in these photos.

Oh, those Nebraska roads!

Colorado (Denver) here we come … and go.

New Mexico has its own charm.

Finally Arizona — almost home! See you around.

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Photos and text copyright © 2011 by Alicja Mann.

Gone Fishing!

Just kidding — will be back on these pages in a week.

Alicja

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Copyright © 2011 by Alicja Mann. Art by Arkadiusz Wesolowski (age 10 in 1987), Gdynia, Poland.

Cape Cod Sensuality

Moments of “less is more” in using words are of great importance. Bits of happiness and tragedy are captured in those moments. Poems are born in such moments. My desire to define the essence of my love for Cape Cod calls for such a moment.

I fell in love with the Southwest a decade ago and made Tucson my home, yet each summer I “go back home” to the Cape. The call of the Southwest and the call of Cape Cod divide my heart.

What is that call of the Cape made of?

For me it lies in the Cape’s sensuality. Yes, sensuality! Sensuality of the tastes and textures of the place. When I leave the Cape in a few weeks to answer the call of the Southwest, I know that I will also hear The Call of Cape Cod.

My bare feet will long for the silkiness of the beach sand

and the touch of frothy waves.

Eyes will miss the huddled boats in the harbor and the lonely ones

on the infinite ocean horizon.

Tongue will remember the bitter taste of the ocean water and the sweetness

of the native scallops.

Hands will not forget the roughness of the weathered shingles and the gentle touch

of white pine needles.

My heart will know how to answer that call….

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Copyright © 2011 by Alicja Mann.

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Photos and text copyright © 2011 by Alicja Mann.