Jeanette DeMain's Open Salon Blog

Happy Birthday Babe!

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 00:11:36 -0500

He's the guy I've known for almost 28 years (since I was 19!).

He's the guy who knew we were meant to be together - even when I didn't.

He's the guy who dragged me away from my hometown to the wilds of Nashville.

He's the guy who taught himself everything about audio recording and runs one of the most successful studios in town.

He's the guy who has has been responsible for most of the interesting adventures in my life.

He's the guy who never puts his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. (N0b0dy's perfect!)

He's the guy who cries as much as I do at the movies.

He's the guy who's always asking me how to spell something.

He's the guy who loves taking photographs more than anything else.

He's the guy who made me a rock star.

He's the guy who tells me I'm beautiful all the time.

He's the guy whose birthday party way back when was ruined by the Kennedy assassination.

He's the guy who thinks I can write.

He's the guy who's my biggest fan.

He's the guy who's always asking, "So what do you know, Nettie?"

He's the guy who loves my cooking.

He's the guy who makes me laugh every day.

He's the guy who took me to Paris.

He's the guy who makes me try to be a better person.

He's the guy I married 20 years ago.

He's the guy whose birthday is today!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JIM!

I don't know where I'd be without you! Here's "our song".

Nidal Hasan and the Bogeyman of Diversity

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 09:11:41 -0500

NOTE: I had originally intended to write a blog addressing both the issues of diversity and political correctness in the Hasan case, but my thoughts on diversity turned into a pretty long piece. I hope to post Part 2: Nidal Hasan and Political Correctness at a later date.

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Even though Nidal Hasan, the man who has been charged in the shooting deaths of 13 people at Fort Hood, Texas, was not an immigrant, his parents were, and many people have used this fact to call for putting more restrictions on (or even banning) further immigration to the United States, especially by Muslims. They say things like, "These people just don't love America." "They don't want to assimilate." And they are suspicious about why these people come here at all.

I know that it is tempting to think that the world began with the year of one's own birth, but your lifetime or my lifetime is nothing more than a tiny drop in the ocean of history, and it is always helpful to realize that the way it is now is but one moment in the constantly-changing landscape of human events. But also, paradoxically, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Each and every wave of immigrants has been subjected to the same kinds of sentiments referenced above, from "real Americans". The "nativists" of the 19th century were opposed to the influx of Irish immigrants, largely because of their Roman Catholicism and their allegiance to the Pope, but also "because of their supposed rejection of republicanism as an American ideal." Sound familiar? This is why I find it especially ironic to hear people of Irish descent making these kinds of remarks about today's immigrants. The Irish were hated with a passion that has rarely been matched in our history.

Other "greatest hits" on the anti-immigration playlist include The Alien and Sedition Acts, the Know-Nothing Party, the Chinese Exclusion Act, the Ku Klux Klan, Japanese-American internment camps, the Palmer Raids, various "English only" movements, and Lou Dobbs. Heck, even the fictional character of Mr. Potter in It's a Wonderful Life got in on the act, derisively referring to "garlic eaters" as a way to disparage those whose customs were a little different. (That example is particularly funny, given the fact that garlic is now to be found in virtually every kitchen in America.)

After the Irish , subsequent waves of immigrants from all over eastern and southern Europe and Russia arrived on our shores. Being very poor, they usually had to live in horrible tenements and ghettos, almost like animals, all the while fighting anti-immigrant sentiment, language difficulties and other barriers to employment. But of course, they were accused of living that way because they wanted to, because they were sub-human. It's such a classic tactic - do everything to keep people living in poverty and then say that they're just lazy and stupid, and it's their own fault for being that way.

(As an aside, my husband found on the Ellis Island website a copy of the manifest of the ship that brought his people from Italy to America early in the 20th century. He ordered a copy, had it framed, and gave it to his father as a Christmas gift a few years ago. Along with names, ages and familial relationships, there was a column on the manifest for occupation. It is with great amusement, considering how far the DeMain family has come, that I tell you that Great Grandfather Mike's occupation was listed as "peasant". Wretched refuse indeed!)

Were there immigrants who didn't really want to be here? Undoubtedly. Contrary to the notion that immigrants willingly came to America because it was a golden "land of opportunity", many of these people were displaced from their native countries by famine or political upheavals. They really had nowhere else to go. By and large, it worked out well for them, but absent things like starvation and pogroms, they very well might have stayed in their native lands. But this doesn't change anything. For whatever reason, they came here, they assimilated , they succeeded, and they are Americans.

Fortunately, after epic struggles (including the efforts of organized labor), most immigrants were able to move out of the inner city slums and into the American Dream^TM. For most of us, the struggles are long forgotten, and we unhesitatingly claim our status as Americans.

In my hometown of Cleveland, where many of the early 20th century immigrants ended up to work in the steel mills and auto plants, there were distinct neighborhoods for many years (Little Italy and Slavic Village, for example), each with their own restaurants, businesses, churches, and civic and social clubs. (When I worked for a local elected official in the mid-to-late 80's, he was often invited to various ethnic events. He would have been in big trouble come election time if he had neglected to attend the Slovenian Debutante Ball!) On Sundays, local AM radio stations often featured shows devoted to the music of different ethnic groups. Foreign-language newspapers flourished, and I remember seeing many people reading them on the bus when I was a young girl. The stalls at the West Side Market sold foods that were near and dear to the Czechs, Poles, Italians, Hungarians, Germans, Latvians and Slovenians who called Cleveland home. And yet, the children and grandchildren of those people are now doctors, lawyers, teachers, journalists and public servants.

In looking at my own family tree, I see that none of my great-grandparents were born in the United States, while three out of four of my grandparents were. So, I am, at most, a third-generation American. I think it's somewhat useful (anecdotally, if nothing else) to see the progression of my own family in assimilating, as far as language is concerned. My great-grandparents spoke Hungarian or Polish almost exclusively, my grandparents were pretty much equally fluent in both Hungarian or Polish and English, my parents spoke a few words of Hungarian or Polish, and I and my siblings speak only English. In the big scheme of things, it didn't take long for the transformation to be complete -- about 60 years.

I consider myself as American as apple pie. I have no ties to the countries of my ancestors. I know nothing of their languages. Aside from the occasional pierogi or stuffed cabbage, I don't much concern myself with their customs. And yet, I keep hearing, "But these new immigrants are different!" Really, though, all I keep seeing in my mind is an unbroken string of historically clueless people (every last one of them descended from immigrants) complaining that, "These damn Paddies-Dagos-Chinks-Japs-Bohunks-Yids-Krauts-Polacks-Beaners-Spics-Pakis-Camel Jockeys just don't respect America!"

The fact of the matter is that merely being an immigrant, or the child of immigrants, doesn't make you any less "American" than those of us whose families go back three generations or ten generations. It also doesn't make you any more prone to anti-American violence than anyone else, even if you are Muslim. Think of Aldrich Ames, Robert Hanssen, Timothy McVeigh, Ted Kaczynski and Eric Rudolph -- non-Muslim Americans all who have committed acts of terrorism or espionage against their own government.

So don't tell me that immigration is to blame here. Or diversity.

Nidal Hasan is most certainly a murderer, and he will be convicted. Not because he is the son of immigrants, or because he is a Muslim, or because we strive for diversity in America, but because he had a mental, emotional or spiritual flaw that allowed him to kill innocent people. How much different is he than Anthony Sowell, an American citizen, who had at least 11 bodies buried in his home in Cleveland? (Sowell also served in the military, by the way. Maybe we need to abolish the Marine Corps.) The kind of sickness that drives people to do things like this is, unfortunately, very diverse as well, and crosses all racial, ethnic and religious boundaries.

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Photo by Jim DeMain

Nashville Celebration of Cultures

October 2009

Welcome to America!

Alternative OS Cover For Veterans Day and Remembrance Day

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 13:11:11 -0500

There were some truly outstanding posts made for Veterans Day/Remembrance Day yesterday, and many OSers believe that the cover did not reflect the significance of the day. Here are links to as many of those posts as I could gather. Please feel free to add any that I've missed in your comments below, or send me a PM.

ALTERNATIVE OS VETERANS DAY COVER

Lest we forget -- Remembrance Day by emma peel.

Thank you for your service by markTheCanuck.

Veteran's Day Reflections by Procopius.

Honoring Our Veterans (a rhupunt) by Skye Writer.

Remembering Skip this Veteran's Day by Patie.

You Don't Know What the Hell You Are Talking About on War by Dorinda Fox.

Armistice Day: Dulce Et Decorum Est? by Boanerges1.

Thank You, Beautiful Young Men and Women by C.K. Dexter Haven.

In Flanders Fields by Harvey Gardner.

Bye Dad: A last salute and farewell to my best veteran by grif.

Thoughts on Veterans Day by Robert Kelley.

Veterans' Day Tribute to Grandpa, the Italian Polar Bear by AtHomePilgrim.

11/11/11 1918 by bobbot.

Happy Veterans Day... by Minuet.

Lessons from the Oldest American Veteran by Karin Greenberg.

Andy is My Hero by ramblin_rose.

A Lump Of Coal For Our Nation's Veterans From GE's John Kren by jamescannonboyce.

Veterans Deserve So Much More by Va. Tech Grad.

Lest We Forget - WWII Slideshow by scott w. gray.

Hell and Back - A Thank You to Veterans by Cap'n Parrotdead.

A Haiku For Our Vets by Sandy Bottom.

Remembering on this Veteran's Day by Chuck A. Stetson.

A Veterans Day thought by Mark Wilson.

Happy Armistice Day!!!! by coach37.

Fortunate Son by CoyoteOldStyle.

In Honor of My Father-in-law on Veterans Day by Jeff Brawer.

Veterans Day Ancestors-at-a-glance by Kristine Harrison.

France Says Thank You by zashin.

May The Lord Smile On Our Veterans Today And Every Day by Trade Martin.

remembrance by kmbearden.

For American Veterans Searching For Light by Chicago Guy.

Bringing Brother Home (A Veterans Day Memory) by ronnierayjenkins.

A Soldier's Heart by TheBarkingLot4.

Pres. Obama & America Says Thank You To Our Veterans! by BUZZARDSKORNER.

Veteran's Day - Geneseo, IL by Teresa M.

A Day of Difficulty in Remembering by Kent Pitman.

For Veterans Day, Bill Moyers Previews "The Good Soldier" by yours truly.

Veteran's Day; A Personal Story by Torman.

THANK YOU - On this Veterans Day by The Wright Sight.

Honoring My Soldiers, My Heroes on Veterans Day by Kathy Riordan.

These Boots - For Veteran's Day by Philip Rodgers.

Observations of a Veterans Day Parade by skeletnwmn.

Iwo Jima in honor of Veterans Day by apache savage.

Veterans Day-A different perspective by Placebostudman.

Repost - Eleventh Month, Eleventh Day, Eleventh Hour by Sgt. Mom.

Honouring Those Who Die For Us by JK Brady.

Eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. by Chris Brown (not the felon).

"Frozen in Time," But Not Forgotten by Dorian de Wind.

Japan Photo: U.S.S. Oneida Gravestone by Calton.

To Veterans by zumalicious

My Military Service by CZPhoenix.

An Advertising Faux Pas - Madison Avenue and the Military by Donna Carbone.

Reflections on two military cemeteries in France by Constantine von Hoffman.

poppies by kmbearden.

For the veterans, the ones who have been there (repost) by mypsyche.

Whew! What a collection! I hope all these links work. And, as I said, if I've left anyone out, please let me know in comments or via PM and I will add a link to the body of this post.

Thanks to everyone who wrote such wonderful pieces for Veterans Day/Remembrance Day 2009!

Come On Down To Cleveland-Town Everyone!

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 10:11:01 -0500

Here's a very short, um, "tourism video" for my hometown, "The Mistake On The Lake." As much as I love Cleveland, and as dumb (really dumb) as this is, it made me laugh. (But I'm not sure what this guy has against West 6th Street. And Cleveland does have more than two tall buildings.)

Even though it has the worst theme song ever, the video captures pretty well the gray, depressing ambience. I can practically feel the chill wind off of Lake Erie. And, at about 7 seconds in, you can see the church where I got married!

WARNING: Not suitable for work, as it contains a few bad words.

After watching this several times, I have come up with my own slogan that's sure to attract visitors.

"Cleveland: At least it's not Detroit. Yet."

Some Like It Too Hot

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 09:11:21 -0500

Everywhere I look these days, I see people extolling the virtues of hot (as in spicy) food. Rachael Ray and the Neelys on the Food Network are always adding hot sauce or cayenne pepper to foods that seem perfectly fine without it, claiming with a giggle or a shake of the hips that they like things with a little "kick". And there are about 80,000 different kinds of hot sauces out there, with cutesy names like "Bayou Butt Burner", "Ass Reaper", "Colon Cleaner", and "Flamin' Flatulence". (Clearly, the hot sauce industry has been overrun with 12-year-old boys.) I guess "Tabasco" just isn't descriptive enough anymore.

Is this some kind of competition? It seems like everyone is vying to experience more pain than the next guy!

When I go out to eat at the wonderful vegetarian Indian restaurant here in town, I always feel like such a wuss when I order my food with a medium level of spice. I can imagine the waiter taking my order back to the kitchen, shaking his head sardonically over my unsophisticated palate, and the chef throwing a tantrum over his inability to properly prepare true Indian cuisine for the heathens in the godforsaken wilderness of Nashville. (But hey, I saw "Slumdog Millionaire"! I'm hip to the Indian thing!) Really, though, even medium is a bit too much for me. I'm working up the courage to order it mild next time. Maybe I'll wear a disguise.

And at the Thai restaurant, there are literally five different levels of spiciness: mild, medium, hot, very hot, and "native Thai". Look, I would certainly love to be down with the Thai culture, but what non-Thai person eats "native Thai" and lives to tell about it? I'm sure that there's some show-off in every group who orders their entree spiced that way, and I am equally certain that they go home and spend the rest of the evening curled up in a ball whimpering as those little chilis march slowly through their digestive tracts. The way I see it, if it hurts going in, it's gonna' hurt coming out. (So perhaps that "Butt Burner" guy does have a point.) But I just want to eat my Massaman Curry without feeling like a total loser.

I wonder, though, are there Thai or Indian people who don't like their food spicy? And if so, are they social outcasts? Do they have special support groups?

I consider myself a fairly adventurous eater, despite the fact that I was raised on Kraft spaghetti dinners and canned vegetables. I've been to Europe several times, and while I can't claim to have had bizarre eating experiences to rival those of Anthony Bourdain, much less Andrew Zimmern, I'm willing to try almost anything, as long as it isn't in the larval stage, or wasn't formerly part of an animal's digestive, reproductive or endocrine system. I even ordered the octopus one night on the Amalfi coast.

(Looks like one of these little guys is trying to escape!)

I found this photo with a Google image search. What they actually brought me was much, much scarier. Two whole octopi, each the size of a small infant, with tentacles sticking straight up or stiffly draped over the side of the bowl, dripping tomato sauce. Cutting into their squishy hollow heads, feeling the slimy tentacles and suckers refusing to yield to my frantic efforts at chewing...I still get a little queasy thinking about it. But, I digress.)

I know that eating spicy food is a way for people who live in tropical climates to deal with the extreme heat. But I'm from Cleveland, Ohio, okay? That's practically in Canada. We relied on popsicles, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and the strategically-placed window fan on those rare occasions when the temperature rose above ninety degrees.

The thing is, I like to taste what I'm eating. To me, too much spice doesn't enhance anything, it just covers it up completely.

Above is a diagram of the human tongue, showing the areas where different tastes are perceived. As you can see, there are clear boundaries here. Also, from what I have read recently, a fifth major taste group has been identified: umami. I'm sure that umami has its own little zone too, maybe tucked right in the middle.

But the "hot" taste group doesn't respect those boundaries. Like rampaging Mongol hordes, pepper molecules will rape and pillage all of your other tastebuds, whose only crime was trying to send your brain a signal that what you're eating won't kill you.

So maybe I need to take up smoking to deaden my tender little buds. Or perhaps I should stop using my tongue scraper and allow a protective coating to develop in order to shield me from the effects of too much capsaicin. Is there some kind of training program to build up one's resistance to the heat? (Insert Rocky-esque montage here, featuring me triumphantly chugging from a bottle of Flamin' Flatulence, of course.) I would really like to fit in with all of you fire-breathing chili addicts.

But then I see something like this:

and all I can say is, "Keep your damn Scoville Units out of my chocolate!"

And, please, the next time someone passes you a bottle of Ass Reaper, just say no.