A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

Lee Lytton III & Friendly & Warm Ghosts
Wednesday, February 15, 2017


Lee Lytton III HS Class of 1961 in Sarita Texas

My Argentine first cousin and godmother, Inesita O’Reilly Kuker, 92 fell and broke her hip a few weeks ago. Her family is waiting for her heart to give out or for her to stop breathing. I am extremely sad as our trip (my Rosemary and my 14 year-old granddaughter Lauren) to Buenos Aires in March will not have Inesita meeting Lauren.

I have been thinking of the losses of my older friends in that last few years. What I miss most about them is that they were from a generation of outgoing and warm people. I miss human warmth in Vancouver of cold rainy winters and  people that I would once compared to the very cold city tap water.

I look forward to my trip to Austin, Texas and to meeting up with the few friends of my generation who are left.

I plant to attend Brother Rommard Barthel’s memorial service in spite of the fact he was never my teacher. We conversed long hours in my multiple stays at St. Joseph Hall, invited by that other beacon of warmth, Brother Edwin Reggio, CSC.

I single out Mike O’Connell (a definite undersclassman from my perspective of being from the HS Class of 1961) as a person who has shown me the warmth I so miss now. He will up the ante on heat this Thursday night at Ruby's

And there is another gentleman who will be in attendance, Lee Lytton III who four years ago hosted us at his Sarita hometown and gave my wife and two granddaughters a taste of real Texas hospitality.

This reunion, which may be my last ( Lytton says he plans to attend the 6th) will make me forget the rain and I will be pleasantly haunted by ghosts in the Old Main whom I know are all smiling ghosts.

A ghost at La Parra,Texas



San Valentín
Tuesday, February 14, 2017






It wasn’t until I was 15 that I first used a phone. In my boyhood Argentina (a third world country even then) by 195,1 when I was 9, my mother bought a refrigerator from a departing American. I remember that the fridge had the compressor on the top. It was with that fridge that I made my first Lime Jell-O. Before that the “hielero” would come once a week and he would place a large block of ice in our icebox.

In 1953  I was invited to the house of the daughter (her name was Susan Stone) of the CEO for General Motors in Argentina. That's where I saw my first TV. She sent her father’s Cadillac to pick me up at our humble home.

It was not until the early 70s that globalization began to affect the holidays of other countries. I remember some kids in the street in Mexico City wanting me to give them money,”Danos nuestro halouin.”

But it was in 1957 when I was in the 8th grade of a small one room school house in Nueva Rosita when I discovered San Valentín. The school was were the children of the engineers of the American Smelting and Refining Company learned an American curriculum. My mother was the teacher.

I hoped against all hope that the lovely Anna María Ramos who was in the 7th grade would send me a valentine card. She did but I was too shy to acknowledge it!

Valentine’s was special even in my high school at St. Ed’s in Austin. It was a boy’s school but I never received a card from the cute and very short Judy Reyes who was a cheerleader. From my vantage point of the school band, where I played the alto saxophone I would sigh when she would jump at football games and reveal her underwear.

Now Valentine’s day has little meaning for me. This morning I brought breakfast in bed for my Rosemary but since we do this every day it was not in any way special.
Thinking on how I would illustrate this I immediately knew I would find the picture of Salem holding her heart-shaped pillow.

I have a memory of my grandmother complaining about a friend she had when we were in Argentina. It seems her friend was a miser and pushy, too. She was called Valentina Perez.



From Simple To Complex
Sunday, February 12, 2017


Pierre Teilhard de Chardin - Photograph Philippe Halsman




Facebook -Pierre Teilhard de Chardin's Noosphere - Not


Today Sunday, February 12, 2017 marks the passing of exactly 4000 blogs since I started in January 2006. When I wrote those early blogs I had no idea what a blog was or why I was doing it. I have written a few blogs on why I blog and now today looking back, what comes to mind is one of the most influential books I have ever read. It was Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s The Phenomenon of Man. I bought it in the late 60s in Buenos Aires.

In hindsight some folks believe Chardin predicted the world wide web with his concept of a Noosphere which would envelop the world in pure thought. Chardin was an avid believer of evolution. But within his idea he championed the idea that organisms evolved from simplicity to complexity. While Chardin, a Jesuit, was prohibited from publishing his books were alive, in the photographs of him taken by Philippe Halsman I gaze on the face of an extremely intelligent man who is looking at a rose future. I am not sure

Against the background of the modern evolutionary world view, Teilhard de Chardin depicted the cosmos as a process of ascent, a series of unions. From very simple beginnings the path leads to ever greater and more complex unities, in which multiplicity is not abolished but merged into a growing synthesis, leading to the “Noosphere”, in which spirit and its understanding embrace the whole and are blended into a kind of living organism.

Of late as I am plagued by en ever more complex world I do not see that Chardin rosy future.
My old computer (a PC) has a 14 year-old Photoshop that works beautifully for my needs. I calibrate my cathode ray tube monitor for colour by matching it to the gray background of my web page and blog.

Today when I finally was able to figure out how to download from my PC to my brand new Microsoft Surface laptop/tablet the colour was accurate and whites were whites and grays were grays.
But I cannot transfer my old Photoshop. I have to (and I will not) buy a subscription and then download it. I cannot transfer my perfectly serviceable Word for the same reason. I had to pay $50 for a year’s subscription.

Tell me is things are better. Tell me if this is an improvement.

While I do not hark back to land lines (I have one) with dialing black phones, it seems that the improvements are just a case of making stuff more complex just to make it more complex.
I was not able to download the new Microsoft Office product to my Surface today. I was with a computer expert (Powersonic on Bridgeport Road). I was told xx, whatever. So I called the tech number for help:

1. The number was answered immediately. Odd?
2. I mentioned what a pleasure it was not to have to wait. Silence on the other side.
3. I explained the problem. I was told that he was going to talk to a supervisor.
4. He came back to tell me that he had to get into my computer.
5. I said, “Oh, you want to hack into my computer!”
6. The man said, “I am pissed.
7. I asked him to repeat that. He did.
8. I hung up.

I went to the folks at Best-Buy who told me the Microsoft website that I had gone to was one they had never seen  before.

Tell me that things are better just because they are more complex.
By the way my Microsoft Surface does not come with an operating manual. They say it is far more convenient to go for the information on line.



Leaning Towards Irrelevancy
Saturday, February 11, 2017




Essay by Richard Thompson Ford


 For some 18 years now, my Rosemary and I have enjoyed a daily breakfast in bed. We have a nice wicker tray we purchased at Eaton’s. Our breakfast fare is different but now 18 years later we have a couple of little dishes with our countless pills that reflect that we are old.

But the pleasure of reading our newspapers is the high point of the day. We have subscriptions to the NY Times and the Vancouver Sun. The protocol is that she starts with the NY Times while I immediately go to Rex Morgan in my Vancouver Sun.

Saturday is the day with the thinnest NY Times and the thickest Vancouver Sun. The NY Times compensates with the fact that we get the heavy Sunday edition on Saturday night. The usual conundrum, “Do we start it on Saturday night (in bed) or leave it to Sunday?”

Today it became patently obvious that our Vancouver Sun is steadily moving in the direction of irrelevancy. At 9AM there was no paper on the doorstep. Rosemary and I shared the thin NY Times. She started the first section with the scrumptious editorials, and me with the business and arts sections.

By the time I got to the editorial I found this fabulously illustrated essay on the Trump tie. Strangely the on-line version does not reproduce it and opts for a photograph of Trump with his trademark long red tie. The essay itself is a sartorial delight.

As my life fades into the irrelevancy of old age, I wonder who is going to go first?  Will it be me or my Vancouver Sun?




Nevertheless She Persisted - For Allan Morgan - My Prospero
Friday, February 10, 2017




Rosemary Brown

The events in our neighbour to the South break my heart but I have resolved not to rant or complain particularly in social media. Such is the volume of the rants and concerns by my Facebook friends that my friend John Lekich refuses to read anything about them stating that it makes him forget that he is a Canadian and that he is living in Canada. Social media blurs those borders.

I was particularly moved by my friend Allan Morgan whom I call my Prospero (a role he played so well) who posted a photograph of Rosemary Brown with the rallying cry (about Senator Elizabeth Warren made to shut up by the McConnel) that is barely two days old, “nevertheless she persisted”
Here is my photograph of Rosemary Brown which I took sometime in the 80s in a series for Women of Distinction.


Sarah Rodgers & Allan Morgan


The other photograph, one of my faves ever (a Polaroid peel scan), is of Allan Morgan and Sarah Rodgers in their roles in Angels in America.

The pathos in their faces is heart wrenching. I reused the photograph for this blog about Allan Morgan's role as Prospero in Bard on the Beach's The Tempest.



El Reloj de Arena - The Hour Glass - Jorge Luís Borges
Thursday, February 09, 2017

Rosemary Elizabeth Waterhouse-Hayward - 1968


One day after our 49th wedding anniversary - Un día después de nuestro aniversario de bodas




The Hourglass, by Jorge Luis Borges (la poesía de Borges en castellano a continuación)

It is appropriate that time be measured
by the stark shadow cast by a stake in summer
or by the flow of water in the river
where Heraclitus saw time’s ironies

since, seen as time and fate, they are alike:
the movement of the mindless daytime shadow
and the irrevocable running on
of river water following its flow.

Just so, but time discovered in the deserts
another substance, smooth and of some weight,
that seemed to have been specifically imagined
for measuring out the ages of the dead.

And so appears this instrument of legend
in the engravings in the dictionary,
an object graying antiquarians
will banish to a dusty underworld

of things— a single chessman, a broadsword,
now lifeless, and a clouded telescope,
sandalwood worn away by opium,
a world of dust, of chance, of nothingness.

Who has not hesitated, seeing that hourglass,
severe and sombre, in the god’s right hand,
accompanying the scythe he also handles,
the image Dürer copied in his drawing?

Through a top opening, the inverted cone
slowly lets fall the wary grains of sand,
a gradual gold that, loosening, fills up
the concave crystal of its universe.

Pleasure there is in watching how the sand
slowly slithers up and makes a slope
then, just about to fall, piles up again
with an insistence that appears quite human.

The sand of every cycle is the same
and infinite is the history of sand;
so, underlying your fortunes and your sorrows,
yawns an invulnerable eternity.

It never stops, the spilling of the sand.
I am the one who weakens, not the glass.
The rite of the falling sand is infinite
and, with the sand, our lives are leaving us.

In the timing of the sand, I seem to feel
a cosmic time: all the long history
that memory keeps sealed up in its mirrors
or that has been dissolved by magic Lethe.

All these: the pillar of smoke, the pillar of fire,
Carthage, Rome, and their constricting wars,
Simon Magus, the seven feet of earth
the Saxon offers the Norwegian King—

all are obliterated, all brought down
by the tireless trickle of the endless sand.
I do not have to save myself— I too
am a whim of time, that shifty element.


Está bien que se mida con la dura
Sombra que una columna en el estío
Arroja o con el agua de aquel río
En que Heráclito vio nuestra locura

El tiempo, ya que al tiempo y al destino
Se parecen los dos: la imponderable
Sombra diurna y el curso irrevocable
Del agua que prosigue su camino.

Está bien, pero el tiempo en los desiertos
Otra substancia halló, suave y pesada,
Que parece haber sido imaginada
Para medir el tiempo de los muertos.

Surge así el alegórico instrumento
De los grabados de los diccionarios,
La pieza que los grises anticuarios
Relegarán al mundo ceniciento

Del alfil desparejo, de la espada
Inerme, del borroso telescopio,
Del sándalo mordido por el opio
Del polvo, del azar y de la nada.

¿Quién no se ha demorado ante el severo
Y tétrico instrumento que acompaña
En la diestra del dios a la guadaña
Y cuyas líneas repitió Durero?

Por el ápice abierto el cono inverso
Deja caer la cautelosa arena,
Oro gradual que se desprende y llena
El cóncavo cristal de su universo.

Hay un agrado en observar la arcana
Arena que resbala y que declina
Y, a punto de caer, se arremolina
Con una prisa que es del todo humana.

La arena de los ciclos es la misma
E infinita es la historia de la arena;
Así, bajo tus dichas o tu pena,
La invulnerable eternidad se abisma.

No se detiene nunca la caída
Yo me desangro, no el cristal. El rito
De decantar la arena es infinito
Y con la arena se nos va la vida.

En los minutos de la arena creo
Sentir el tiempo cósmico: la historia
Que encierra en sus espejos la memoria
O que ha disuelto el mágico Leteo.

El pilar de humo y el pilar de fuego,
Cartago y Roma y su apretada guerra,
Simón Mago, los siete pies de tierra
Que el rey sajón ofrece al rey noruego,

Todo lo arrastra y pierde este incansable
Hilo sutil de arena numerosa.
No he de salvarme yo, fortuita cosa
De tiempo, que es materia deleznable.
 



     

Previous Posts
Lee Lytton III & Friendly & Warm Ghosts

San Valentín

From Simple To Complex

Leaning Towards Irrelevancy

Nevertheless She Persisted - For Allan Morgan - My...

El Reloj de Arena - The Hour Glass - Jorge Luís Bo...

An Officer and a Gentleman & An Anniversary

el ayelmado tripolio que ademenos es de satén rosa...

For Susanne Tabata's Media Class At the Art Instit...

Linda Melsted - The Music in the Violin does not e...



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2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17