LDWorldWide

It’s actually a 13-year-old’s comment on my 12-year-old’s recent Facebook post about the recently enacted Constitutional amendment preventing marriage equality in North Carolina. I don’t know the kid, who I am told is pretty quiet, but I am taken with how he expressed himself:

i don’t believe some parts in the bible are really true tho and i’m christian so i’m not trying to slay the bible but the whole homosexual thing it was bound to happen so sorry lord but you should of just accepted even if its a sin when people love its done deal with and i’m straight and knew it was gonna happen so like whatever for a guy if no girl comes and i comes and makes the guy happy deal with same for the girls or the bisexual deal with i learned to live with and my bro is gay i didn’t like it at first but idgaf it’s his life so like if this cast me out of heaven idc do what you do i honestly don’t care anymore forget it all if people don’t agree with me i still don’t care ima live the way i want to just like everybody else like no one really cares any more cause even tho the government says they oh so go by the laws i bet most of them is with the luminaty if that’s how it’s spelled but yea so they sinning the ass off but they at the top so what they say is key key my but i bet if the bible is corrupted it cuz of them so i don’t care any more i got faith in god jesus and all that jazz but i just don’t have a good feeling about this amendment like cause if something happen to my mom i got to stay with my bro but cause of this law the gov. can take me my lil sis and lil bro away and then what so i just say this f– the amendment that was passed and f– the government that’s my word U. Shaw signing out government if got an issue come at me.

If got an issue come at me.

Fun to hear today from a former colleague, a 20-something smarty who made the trains run on time back in ‘08 and ‘10, when I traveled with teams to Ghana and Tanzania, respectively. His note said:

I get asked all the time about my experiences in Africa. The trials and travails. The story I can never seem to truly relate, but which I think is actually the most “adventurous” of the bunch, is of our trip from Cape Coast back to Accra.

Sums up:
- the experience of the “middle class” in Africa who get by however they can (in this case, by an enterprising man who seemed to have duct-taped his transmission together)
- the traffic
- the spontaneous festivals that seemingly demonstrate a pretty low regard for western definitions of “productivity”
- the general friendliness of people (we did get home after all…somehow)
- the experience of working there as an expat, and especially as a mother trying to get home and see her family… “get me out of this knot of non-functioning-ness. I’ve studied it for three weeks and now it’s invading my life.”

Everytime I start telling the story I just start cracking up. Definitely one of those, “you had to be there”s.

Ah, yes, the time Matt and I got stuck in an on-coming marching band — which was just the beginning of our ordeal! I am glad I blogged about it shortly thereafter, and I am glad that someone out there shares this particularly wild memory.

North Carolina’s greatly hyped “EOGs” — short for End-of-Grade and pronounced EEEOHGeez — are fast approaching: These are the state-mandated exams in Language Arts and Math (and, for 5th and 8th graders, Science) that every public school student must take. A score of “III” or “IV” passes; a score of “II” results in an immediate review course and a retest within 30 days or so; and a “I” will land you in non-negotiable summer school. Your scores become part of your almighty “Permanent Record.”

Our local middle school recently circulated sample questions for the 7th grade math test. In fact, that test comes in two parts — “calculator active” and “calculator inactive.” If I recall my own (unsuccessful) math education correctly, calculators were always inactive. I believe I am up to the challenge of the 7th grade “inactive” part, although I suspect that, in China, the following examples are considered fourth grade math:

1. Anne bought a new pair of skates on sale for $50.00. The sales tax rate was 7%. How much money did Anne spend?
A $57.00
B $53.50
C $50.07
D $43.00

2. On a map, inch represents 8 miles. How many miles would 2 inches on the map represent?
A 8 miles
B 16 miles
C 32 miles
D 64 miles

3. Howard picks apples at an orchard. He earns $4.35 for each hour he works and $2.20 for each bushel he picks. His goal is to earn at least $100 this week. Which inequality will help Howard determine the number of hours (h) and bushels (b) he needs to reach his goal?
A 4.35h + 2.20b < 100
B 4.35h + 2.20b £ 100
C 4.35h + 2.20b > 100
D 4.35h + 2.20b ≥ 100

Here are a couple of questions from the “calculator active” portion:

1. Ms. Stewart wanted to make a box-and-whisker plot of the results of a recent math test given to her class. She began by collecting the set of data. What should she do first in order to accurately create her graphical representation of the data?
A find the mean for the set of data
B throw out any outliers
C find the upper quartile for the data
D put the data in order from least to greatest

2. Janet’s grades on her first four science quizzes are 82, 89, 82, and 92. What grade on the fifth quiz will give Janet a quiz average of exactly 88?
A 97
B 95
C 93
D 90

Let me know if you need a copy of the answers. But don’t ask me what a “box and whisker” plot is — I have no idea.

Big D has a number of Other Women in his life, and some of their names are Megan, Gretchen, and Penelope. Megan, the economics and finance writer for the Atlantic, impresses me for her ability to say new things about events of the day, rather than to merely affirm or reject conventional wisdom. Gretchen, the serene Happiness guru, is full of advice that I really mean to take, such as to never get carried away by Free or Heavily Discounted Stuff. Penelope sort of writes about career management and, now, homeschooling. Mostly, however, Penelope writes about her own acerbic, difficult, bat-shit-crazy self. I don’t like her, because she strikes me as such an unpleasant, over-the-top, self-involved person.

Sometimes, however, Penelope’s advice is uncanny. I admit that I appreciate her Finance Tips for the Self Employed. They ring true to me: a good deal of uncertainty is the price of freedom, and it is nice to finally get to the point when you are working for “five months out.” Her comments about being able to quit a client — which, painfully but resolutely, I have done lately — especially hit the mark. The power to say “This isn’t working for me” (as long as you say it nicely and very, very rarely) is the essence of independence, or, at least, a critical part of it.

Treated to a nice dinner last night by Grandma H. at a local restaurant that comes closer than most to offerering “something for everyone.” Two topics of note:

1. What we ordered.

Daughter A. Plain hamburger, French Fries, Water.
Daughter B. Creamy chard soup; garden salad with sunflower seeds and apple vinagrette; Root Beer in the bottle, a specialty brand from New Orleans featuring “real cane sugar”; Key lime pie.
The ladies. Both mother and daughter-in-law ordered something their husbands won’t eat — sea scallops and fried oysters, respectively. Plus white wine.
The gentleman. Shrimp-stuffed pepper with some sort of molé; fried catfish; and a glass of rosé, without self-consciousness or apology.

2. What we talked about. Daughter A proposed a Question of the Night entitled, “What is your pet peeve about restaurants?” Answers unfolded youngest to oldest:

1. (If I recall correctly): Inadequate vegetarian options.
2. Disgusting things that arrive on your food without proper notice, i.e., mayonnaise.
3. Non-transparent pricing policies.
4. Non-transparent pricing policies, continued.
5. Australian waitresses who bear their midriffs. (Update: “Bare”! I meant “bare!” Man, I always get that one wrong.)
6. (We asked the waitress what she thought): Lazy wait staff.

All in all, a delightful trip out!

Home is where the excellent family is! I’m lucky.

Big D observes, though, that all I seemed to blog about from Jakarta was the traffic. You know, it’s true — while I was there, in fact, I remarked to a colleague who lives there that all we seemed to talk about, other than work, was the traffic. He nodded gravely and replied, “Yes. It will consume you.”

I have been in huge, sprawling cities before, but there is something about Jakarta that especially lends itself to the term “Mega-City.” It’s not just that it sprawls endlessly in all directions, stopping only — and reluctantly — when it reaches the sea. It’s also that the sprawl is vertical: hundreds of skyscrapers, each one new and heavily fortified, rise from what was once quiet residential streets (or, from new streets, which have somehow been slashed into the earth). I gather that the growth has all happened very quickly — Jakarta has surely seen a wild 25 years. One primary casualty of the growth explosion is the lowly pedestrian, who now must contend with brick-paved sidewalks interrupted by speeding, six-lane traffic, without the luxury of cross-walks.

The noise is another factor. There seems to be no escaping it. Although drivers do not relentlessly lean on their horns like they do in certain huge Egyptian cities that shall remain nameless, the whine of the moterbikes in Jakarta fills the air. On many streets, a conversation outdoors is simply hopeless.

Will Jakarta be the largest city in the world in just a few years time? I understand that it is in the running. I have enjoyed my visit, but look forward to stepping on to my homeward-bound plane on Thursday night.

Lots to learn, here in Indonesia, about the business of trade in agricultural products.

Among others: In recent years, Indonesia has experienced a “boom” in palm-oil production and exports. Worldwide demand for palm oil has shot up as a result of increased awareness of — and desire to eliminate — nasty, unhealthy trans-fats. Palm oil, apparently, doesn’t have them.

The problem with palm oil, however, is that it comes from palm trees. Indonesian palm-oil producers have cut down vast areas of other kinds of trees, to make way for their new cash crop.

Thus: Fat Americans → Bans on TransFats → Consumer switch to palm oil → Indonesian switch to palm trees → Deforestation → Climate change.

Ugh.

I am lucky — every trip I take adds another layer to my professional community, which adds up to a far-flung but deeply interconnected bunch. My primary colleague for this work is someone I worked with twice before in Kosovo, in 2004 and 2006, and then by virtual means over the years since. On Sunday afternoon, we had dinner with two couples that he knows as colleagues, and who I socialized with as part of daily life in Egypt. We met up at the “American Club,” which is the (cleaner and nicer) equivalent of the old Maadi House in Cairo.

It is Sunday in Jakarta, which is 11 hours ahead in time of the Eastern United States. I assumed there was a political dimension to the noisy gathering of people around the traffic circle outside my window at 8 this morning — I did see banners, and there was a bit of bull-horning. Perhaps, though, the whole business was recreational. A lane of car traffic was closed, so that pedestrians, push-carts, and mostly bicycles could navigate what on most days is not navigable. And plenty of people, it seemed, were seizing that chance.

By 11 a.m., it was all over, the cars having reclaimed the road.