Another, better, Thomas Cushing

One would think that one Thomas Cushing in the world would be enough but, apparently, not only are there two (one from Flint and one from White Lake), but both are percussionists for the FIM and both went on the recent trip to Ireland with the FIM:

http://www.mlive.com/news/flint/index.ssf/2014/03/flint_youth_symphony_orchestra.html

We have no trouble telling the two apart: the White Lake Thomas is peculiarly polite to strangers (in that he is willing to speak to a journalist), articulate (capable of full sentences, can say something other than "Leave me alone", "I'm busy" or "In a minute"), and is appreciative of all that others have given him and the opportunities he has experienced.  Who IS this kid?  I would sure love to meet him.

Lord of the Dance, etc.

Performance by the Flint Youth Symphony before they set off for Ireland.  Thomas on drums on the left (look for the hair as usual).

Now they're in Ireland. Glimpses (that's a weird word when you type it) of Thomas at 2:00, 3:15 and about 4:33:

Now they're busking (Thomas seems to have worn this orange hoodie everywhere he wasn't wearing the tux) (stay for the humorous wind incident at 5:40):

A tree hugger for Earth Day

Presumably high-five your fellow unbelievers

These billboards have been up all over town for the past month, I shit you not.

The true barometer of the changing seasons

We have automatic rolling garage doors. Such things would have been an unimaginable luxury when I were a lad (as indeed were garages that you could actually put your car in) but quite commonplace here. Well, a couple of years ago I was trying to shut the right hand one and it kept stopping. It was only after I'd tried this a few times (I'm stubborn, or, as you might say, stupid) that I realized that the reason was that the little rubber curtain at the bottom was getting caught on the tine of an upturned garden fork that had been leaning against the inside wall and tipped over. "No harm done" I thought, but, sadly, I was wrong. Somehow the tracks that the little rollers roll on to move the door had become ever-so-slightly warped. What this means is that the only way to shut the door is to press the manual button inside the garage, and keep it pressed. If you let go, it gives up and goes back up. This doesn't work with the little remotes that you keep in the car, so if I'm the last to leave in the morning I have to back out, get out of the car, go inside the garage, close the right hand door, open the left hand door, leave, and then close the left hand door. A pain in the arse. "But Simon," you're thinking (assuming you've bothered to read this far), "what's this got to do with barometers?" Well, the odd thing is that the warped track only bothers the wheels in the Winter. In the Summer, it closes fine, without having to keep your finger on the inside button. Long story short: today was the first day that it worked without having to press it. Probably it'll be stuck again tomorrow morning (it'll still be cold overnight and obviously it's the temperature that does it), but warm weather has officially arrived. Don't worry - I'll let you know when the switch happens again - probably November - so stay posted! (This is what I get to do while Jami's off in San Diego. Woo woo.)

Leaving San Diego soon

I have time to kill before leaving as I have been waking up around 5 or so a.m. Pacific time and I don't need to leave the hotel to head to the airport until around 9:45. The weather pattern here is much like I remember LA being at this time of year: cloudy and hazy in the early morning and around mid-morning it burns off to reveal clear blue skies. You can see in the photos from yesterday that when I set out from the hotel it was very hazy but by the time I had walked a few miles the clouds were gone. Yesterday after I chaired a session (THAT was contentious--glad my talk session wasn't like that)I went to the hotel art gallery. The conference is actually taking up space at two hotels--half here at the one I am in (Westin: one of those anonymous conference hotels) and the US Grant hotel (which is beautiful, right out of the mid-1800s--lots of dark wood and crystal chandeliers) and the Grant Hotel had the art gallery. I wandered around a bit inside--didn't like any of the painting (one was of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz with her mouth open to reveal various characters from the movie--weird) and others were very realistic oils of book spines on shelves, but all the books were pop culture best sellers (like Stephen King's It, or autobiographies by actresses and washed up politicians. Maybe that was the point, that they were trite, but who wants to look at that on their walls?). I did like a few ceramics pieces, not to buy, but to think about when I (if I) get back into making ceramics. Here they are (photos taken with a crappy phone camera): The camera/phone lens isn't good enough to show the texture really, but they were quite cool--and not quite so neon looking, either. This one I was impressed with. The ceramicist would have had to extrude or roll miles of wet clay, mark the sides, and then roll up small stretches (each 2-3 inches long) and then stick them together, all very slowly allowing each to dry so the lower levels could take the weight of the new clay, balanced against the problem that, if you let the clay get too dry it cracks and then has to be junked. Even if you work on three or four simultaneously, each piece would take several months before being ready to fire.There were three of these. This is a blown glass chandelier. As I was looking at the scrolly vases, a woman who worked there appeared out of nowhere to talk to me about it. I said that I liked the work very much (translate: I admire the effort that went into it, and appreciate that it was well-executed). She took that to mean that I wanted to buy it. I said that I lived far away and didn't think hauling it home on the plane was practical. She insisted that they shipped all over the world. Ok, that was when I started to panic a bit. How do I get out of this? I then said the, "I'll have to think about it" line. She added, it is less than $1000.00, implying, I suppose that further resistance would just be priggish. I was about to say, "If it is $950.00 less than $1000, you have a deal." But didn't. So from that point on, I had to avoid not only that hotel but the whole street.

Walking Tour Downtown San Diego, pt 1

Since the session I am chairing is not scheduled to begin until 3:00, I had a LOT of spare time on my hands this morning. So I looked at Google maps to find the direction of the ocean and made my way directly west, walking down Broadway Street. Just a few feet from my hotel are the Halls of Justice.There is a nice mix of old design and new. Here is a very old looking YMCA. (Well, old for California.)And here is another new building. Somewhere in that photo is a very fancy Bank of America. So that is where all the bank fees go. I thought of Thomas when I saw these crystal rock light posts. I am going to head back out tonight after dark to see if they illuminate. When he was 10, he would have been very keen about such a thing. I am sure now it would be ho-hum to him.

Walking Tour Downtown San Diego, pt 2

There is any number of methods of transportation here. One can walk, ride in a rickshaw, take the trolley (the line pictured runs to Tijuana, if one is in the mood for a little "south of the border", train, boats and ships and of course plane. Here is the old Santa Fe line station, still very much in use. Many of the USC folk came down by train. (Apparently, the train now runs within LA with a stop right on Trousdale Parkway, about 10 feet from Mudd Hall, the home of the School of Philosophy. Will wonders never cease?)Here is inside the train station. Looks like a perfect spot for an Alfred Hitchcock film setting.I'm surprised they didn't mention the crooked teeth.

Walking Tour San Diego pt 3

This is my favorite building of those that I saw/walked past. I really like the 60's style blue fish scale/fish eye tile pattern on the right side of the building. Just to prove that I am at the ocean, I will show pictures of ships.More ships that I don't know anything about. Click on the photo to enlarge if you feel the need to inspect them more closely.Here is looking the other way, to the north coastline. If you click on the photo to enlarge it you can see the jet getting ready to land. It is heading to the airport that I will be taking off from tomorrow morning. It is a little unnerving flying into San Diego as when the runway ends about 10' from the water's edge.A few seconds later another jet takes off.

Walking Tour Downtown San Diego pt 4

Alongside the active ships and submarines of the US Navy and US Coast Guard are these touristy looking things.This one is called Star of India. The shuttle driver who brought me from the airport to the hotel mentioned that last weekend her niece had a class trip aboard this ship. Apparently, they spent the night and to pay their way, had to work this ship. I don't know what that entailed, but I hope at the very least they captain raised anchor and took the ship out to the middle of the ocean and then required the kids to sail it back to shore.Here. Now I don't have to tell you about it.As I was walking back from the boardwalk to the hotel, I was hit with wave upon wave of the smell of dead fish, scrambled eggs and something I couldn't quite place. Then I noticed the sidewalks were regularly spattered with vomit. I forgot what it is like to live in a place with a high population per square in and very low rainfall. Suddenly don't miss it so much.

Philosophers in San Diego

I (Jami) wrote a paper over a year ago and now, finally, it is time to present it at the APA (American Philosophical Association) Pacific Division conference. My paper is scheduled to be part of a 3 person presentation/session tomorrow night from 7 to 10--which is 10 to midnight my time. That won't be good--or maybe it will be better as I will be too sleepy to be nervous. I had to leave at an ungodly hour to get to the Detroit airport in time for all the security bullshit--and of course the construction that closed I-75 southbound which is what I would need to take to get to the airport. I did get to the airport in the end (obviously) so all was well until we were settled in on the plane and it started the business of "taxiing" away from the docking station. We rumbled along and then there was a violent jolt, a huge crash and then we stopped dead. Apparently the ground crew tried to tow the plane with a defective tow-bar, it broke, and then they broke the landing lights. So, that had to be dealt with. It was a mixed feeling indeed when we set off the second time: anxious to get on our way, no one wanting to be on a plane that was slapped together in order to rush things along. (And recent plane and ferry crashes do not put anyone at ease.) Eventually we landed in San Diego and I found a shuttle to take me to the hotel. I grabbed the best seat first and waited for other people to load on. One guy, who was 50-something and looked very much like an academic, was headed to the same hotel. I asked him if he was a philosopher and indeed he is, at Minnesota State U (The Other MSU). The driver was very much perplexed when we told her that there would be easily over 500 philosophers going to a conference this weekend and she should expect many more philosophical passengers. Upon arriving at the hotel, there were 20 or so tweedy sorts who looked like they were playing the part of the philosopher. Here is my room: And, just as important as the desk, giant flatscreen tv and two beds (so I can jump from one to the other all weekend) is the bathroom. I like the humongous stack of fluffy towels and leaf-shaped soap. Two mirrors, as if anyone wants to see their travel-worn face that badly. This looks interesting. Part of the view from my room. Since it is overcast I have no idea what direction I am facing, or which way the ocean is. This is more of the view from my window. This character looks decidedly suspect. Philosopher or Super Spy?

T'omas's Irish T'ings

Thomas went to Ireland with more than $300 in his checking account and a shiny debit card in his wallet, $160 Euros and almost $20 US. I told him to spend the Euros first as they would be not much good to him here. He acted as if he couldn't hear me, which isn't unusual for him when I am trying to tell him something important/relevant. Nonetheless, he came home with quite a treasure trove: Although he brought home enough Mentos to feed a small village, they are almost gone and his bedroom is knee-deep in Mentos wrappers. I can't imagine why he claims to feel ill today. I asked Thomas if the Irish people he met said things like "Faith and Ba'Gorah". Apparently not. Nor did he hear a single "feck." What did amuse him was that they drop the 'h' when words start with 'th'. So, 'thin' and 'thing' sound like 'tin' and 'ting'. Like Thomas? I asked. He smiled, "Yeah, it's great."

Thomas's Ireland Experiences, part 7

You can practically hear the Father Ted theme music:
I think they must paint the grass because no grass is THAT lush and green:
Meet Thomas's roommates for this 9 day odyssey: Omid and Mark. Mark earned a reputation for being a trouble maker during the Paris trip two years ago when he left his group (AND his "buddy") and disappeared for almost 30 minutes. His sudden absence sent the whole troupe into a panic and put all parents on red alert. It turns out he went to the bathroom without telling anyone. This year there were LONG SPEECHES as to the problem of Wandering Children.

Thomas's Ireland Experiences, part 6

Thomas sees vast possibilities open up before him. If he had known one could make poison gardens he would not have resisted my requests for his help in the garden all these years.