Books
The fogs and the sorrows of Ireland...
Economics
If the Confederate flag has been dishonored beyond reclamation, the word "communism" has been a hundred times more so. But what this author argues that Ruskin, some other idealistic communards in the nineteenth century, and some traditional and tribal cultures had in common was never dishonored because Marx and the Bolsheviks never understood it or aspired to it at all. I like the word "usufruct." It looks like "use of fruit" because that's one of the things it means: a relationship in which you help your neighbors harvest their fruit, and if you feel hungry from your exertions during the harvest, or if you notice any stray fruit ripening before or after the harvest, enjoy!--you're a friend and a guest. It describes the way my neighborhood got along until the Professional Bad Neighbor moved in: Property lines were drawn, children were taught where they were, but nobody actually meant to lock anyone out, apart from, occasionally, a bathroom. Children could scamper pretty much anywhere unless they were being punished for damaging property. Fences were built to contain cattle but to be easy for humans to get over, under, or through at any point. No formal invitation was necessary to be guests. When picking morels in the woods my brother and I could search Neighbor A's woodlot, but not disturb the ginseng that grew on it, which everyone understood "belonged" to Neighbor B. There would be, on the right day, a good crop of morels in that woodlot; we took buckets, and after filling them we would meander around to A's and B's houses and divide the supply, since morels don't keep well and there'd be more than any one household wanted. "Usufruct" is an idea neighborhoods could revive without a hint of violence against the capitalist status quo. Of subtle, nonviolent revolution...maybe. It needs only one really bad neighbor to spoil the lovely community relationship--temporarily.
Poems
Hard to believe that a deaf child was "forbidden to sign until I was fourteen"--because the family wanted him to learn to write English first? Attitudes that seem to have been common in the twentieth century seem so bizarre today. My parents used to reminisce about knowing a family where the husband's native language was English, the wife's was Spanish, and the nanny's was French. "So your children speak all three languages, then!" "Oh no--we want them to be Americans--they've only ever heard English." Anyway, the poet learned to sign, and he writes poems in standard English and performs them in American Sign Language. A sample can be watched at
Zazzle
The "Save the Butterflies" Collection has reached a point where, having put a butterfly picture on everything Zazzle offers that seems as if it could use one, I can now go back and find what we already have that's on sale. Zazzle has, perhaps coincidentally, found a new way to use up Zazzlers' time--a new way of marketing collections. Meanwhile, here's my pillow:
And someone else's pillow. These look like Asian butterflies, especially the great gorgeous Birdwing. (We will get to the Birdwings, presently.)
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