The Wise Fools of the Mediterranean

Asked Julian of Maddalo[1]:

“How come the mad to be wise,

Or the wise to go mad?

Which was Tiresias[2]?

Is what they say madness,
All the dark backside of understanding?

Is what they say wisdom,
all illuminated by such understanding?

Does madness make what’s imagined seem brilliantly illuminated?

Does wisdom make what’s sensible seem darkly obscure?

When we peer into San Servolo[3],
Do we see the sun set over Venice?”

 

“Such debate is vanity,”
Answered Maddalo to Julian.

July 2011

 


Note: While attending a lecture on “Julian and Maddalo” given by John Gilroy at Cambridge University, I was struck by the number of times, in film and fiction, I had observed characters, frequently, descending into an asylum to consult, or at least visit and inmate, often having been hidden away there, and always suffering some form of madness. Yet what these mad men and women contribute to their narrative home is often crucial to the understanding of in important character, and sometimes to life itself. Furthermore, the asylum, and indeed the whole narrative, seems always to be set in Greece or Italy or Spain or some other Mediterranean land. Now why is that?

Just a jolly folly poem.

 


[1] “Julian and Maddalo” is a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley, sub-titled a conversation," it reflects discussions between Shelley (Julian) and Byron (Maddalo) at Venice in August and September 1818.

[2] In Greek mythology, Tiresias was a blind prophet of Thebes, famous for clairvoyance and for being transformed into a woman for seven years.

[3] By the beginning of the eighteenth century, or soon thereafter the Senate of the Republic of Venice designated San Servolo as the site of a new military hospital, needed due to the continuing war against the Turks. Later the hospital was used to care for the mentally ill.

2011 Graduation Address, Edison High School, Minneapolis, Minnesota

I want to thank you for asking me to speak tonight. "Oh, thank you," wasn’t the first thing I said, but I really am flattered. This is probably my last chance to speak at a graduation, of course. And it really is an honor. As most of you know, I’m retiring next week. Don’t misunderstand; I’m not disappearing. I’m not just going to do nothing. I may even be around Edison a little. I’ll do some of the things I couldn’t do while I was at school day after day after day. I’m retiring, not stopping.

I’ll work with new teachers, I’ll travel, I’ll ride my bikes, I’ll write and I’ll certainly continue to read and even reread some of the books I haven’t been able to get to. And I’m going to study abroad some more, at Cambridge this summer and perhaps other places around the world in years to come. So, I’ll be practicing what I’m preaching tonight. You see, I can’t stop being a teacher. A teacher after all is someone who thinks learning is just so darn much fun, everybody must want to be doing it, all the time. So as I said, I’ll be doing a lot of reading–in planes, on trains, in cars and at home.

In the things I read, I sometimes find wise ideas, and new ways of seeing the world. When I read Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem "Ulysses" I connected with it right away. The original Ulysses epic is the story of a great general whose cleverness as much as his soldiering has saved him and his crew from many monstrous dangers. It is the story of a journey and a lesson in leadership, meant for future leaders, but in his poem, Tennyson takes up Ulysses at the end of his adventures, all his great accomplishments accomplished. In the poem, Ulysses is not satisfied with having achieved everything he has achieved, and he realizes that what made life worthwhile to him was the striving, the trying, not the success. Success is not an end, but a place to start again, to try something new, to go where he hasn’t yet been. He says:

 I am a part of all that I have met;
        Yet all experience is an arch, wherethro’
       
Gleams that untravell’d world, whose margins fade
       
For ever and for ever as I move.

Now you know that as you move toward the horizon, it will simply move on away from you. But it isn’t just your moving forward that is important about this quotation; it’s about experience and what you can see in your future. Unlike Ulysses, you are still short in experience, but as you gain more experience, you will gain more height, more vision; your horizons, the margins of your world, will grow. You’ll see how big your “untravell’d world” is. You’ll never see all there is to see, do all there is to do, know all there is to know. And no matter how hard you try, you cannot reach the stars, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t reach. Reaching for the stars is about you, not about the stars.

When you’re down at ground level, you can’t see too far into the distance, but when you get up high, you can see much farther. Reaching, trying and getting experience is like getting up higher. Experience makes you taller in the world of opportunity, and allows you to see much more of the possibility that exists for you. Getting experience is learning: learning by studying, learning by doing and learning by talking with and listening to people. Learn through experience. Be a tall person. See what’s out there for you. No matter what you do in life: school, work, home-making, learn from and in whatever you do. It counts. Make your life count.

Those of you who go to college and other schools study many kinds of things. A liberal education gives you the power of adaptability. When someone tells you to specialize in some subject exclusively, remember that greatness has always been achieved by those who stepped out of their limits into the unknown. The more you know, the more you will come to understand how much there is to know and how little we know of it. It is your flexibility and confidence that will let you go into what you don’t know, and that will lead you to your greatness.

Those of you who go right to work continue to learn, study, experience other things. Learn the guitar or write or join the church choir or learn to fly. No matter what kind of work you do, up on a roof top or down a hole in the ground, alone in an office or on a crowded sales floor, the more you know and the more ready you are to learn, the better you will be in your work and more likely you will be to advance. And the happier you will be in your life which will feel more full and worth living.

And those of you who stay at home and raise children, you will  do the important job of modeling and valuing learning for those children, so that they will aspire and achieve in their lives too. So that they will continue learning in their turn. So they will be the next great generation of kids to graduate from Edison.

Think about this. If you stop learning, you’re dead. Your body may trudge on, but your spirit will have died, that inner light that I and your other teachers have loved about you, will have gone out. And that will be a shame, because that flame that shines in you can light the way to your greatness. That inner light of yours is why I am so thankful to have taught at Edison and to have been allowed to be part of your lives. Keep the flame alive.

Tennyson closes with, the words of an old general, but if old Ulysses could still kick it, I know you can. Ulysses was great not for what he did, which means nothing in the world today, but for how he did it. We can all live our lives as the great ones did by doing as they have done. The great deeds will follow or not, as they may. It isn’t the score; it is how you play the game. Live your life like Ulysses. Live your life greatly. 

I close with the closing line from Tennyson’s poem as my charge to you. I charge you "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

Congratulations, Edison Class of 2011 and good luck.

CiS Edison/Delano Exchange

During the first week of May this year, fifty students stepped into one another’s lives for a few hours over two days, twenty-two of them from a very inner city school in northeast Minneapolis and twenty-eight from a small rural town now turning into a metropolitan bedroom community thirty some miles to the west. In the short time they spent together, following counterparts through a few classes, eating lunch together, and talking and listening to each other in follow up sessions, they were able to accomplish what seems beyond our leadership. The teenagers figured out what people who spend a little time getting to know one another usually seem to figure out; they have much more in common than they have in difference.

The exchange between Edison and Delano has happened the last two springs. It has been carried out with the College in the Schools writing and literature classes of the two schools. Its initial purpose was and remains an academic one. Interacting with people who are culturally different will allow students to expand their scope as they research and read about cultures. Cultures are complex interactions of values, language and traditions played out in an attempt to be safe, secure and perhaps comfortable in a challenging world. We all live in various cultures, sub-cultures and micro-cultures. We know that if we only have a limited set of experience in cultural settings, we will only have a limited understanding of the world. We will only have one way of seeing people and will only be able to understand them and their actions in our limited context.

Helping students better understand their world, College in the Schools courses are directed to expanding the students’ world view. The writing students research and compose an ethnography, an in depth study of a micro-culture. These students have a chance to practice the art of getting inside other people’s “closed” worlds through the exchange. The literature students read Arundhati Roy’s novel “The God of Small Things,” which examines cultural conflicts and issues set in Kerala, Indian. Since the literature students need to open up the differences and cultural conflicts in the novel, they can examine those in the light of their experience confronting the presumed differences our two school groups held prior to the exchange. This will help them understand the unresolved cultural differences in the novel.

Since the two schools represent distinctly different cultural milieus, the exchange became an opportunity to encounter cultural difference with a human face. The students got to expand their perspective to better study and understand how difference can be both enriching and troubling. However, the students accomplished much more. In the process of talking and listening to each other, they generally concluded an important understanding about what we must do if we really want to live together.

At the end of the second day’s follow up discussion session, it had become clear that opening up and talking about home life and personal experience was a source of surprise to some and puzzlement to others. The very diverse city kids opened up about family configurations and expectations, and their feelings about these, revealing considerable differences from one student to the next. They seemed comfortable with difference. Though more limited than the conversations that go on in their classrooms, this openness was surprising to the students from the small town. Conversely, the reticence of the kids from the exurbs to discuss much about their private lives could have come right from a Lake Woebegone routine. That puzzled the city students. The students were examining this phenomenon in a rich dialogue as the time was running out.

With this the only seemingly significant difference out on the floor, students were asked to say what they thought would happen if people don’t talk about such things and what they felt they were taking away from the two days together. The answers were often the same. They were simple, clear and powerful:

“Talking is learning.”

“We need to know about one another.”

“If we don’t talk, we remain divided.”

“We’re all mostly alike. We’re all high school students. We do the same things.”

The students from both schools laugh at what by now looked like foolish preconceptions of the others, but they left with a profound insight into human relations. To get the Edison students back on the bus took considerable prying loose. Emails and numbers were exchanged with promises to stay in touch. The consensus on the bus ride back into town was to say thank you for this exchange.

 

How is it that fifty high school students can reach this level of understanding, this elevation of human dignity in just a few hours over two days? How could they engage so amicably with people they had always thought so alien in this sort of process and walk away having made new friends? How could these kids talking among themselves reach such a morally good understanding about human beings and grow in that process? How could that happen when our leaders seem so bent on dividing us and building walls between communities? A handful of teenagers could tear down those walls in a matter of minutes.

Stopping

You ask me, “What will you miss?” and

I will tell you, “The pain of caring.”

You ask me, “Why did you do it?

When the effort is so much,

Why did you care?”

 

I cannot tell you.

I know I will miss this, but

I can never find the words to say

What it is that exists

          When my eye and

          Their eyes

          Meet.

When caring means something,

There are no words, and

If there were words,

They would be

          Your words and

          My words,

Because we have only

          Our eyes and not

          Their eyes.

 

There are no words,

          Only eyes.

 

February 2011

Hello Wisconsin

See any trends of the Tea Party Movement, radical right wing politicians here?

Those NAZI’s made a damned good Mercedes though…

(cited below)

“…

Origins of Fascism

While socialism (particularly Marxism) came into existence as a clearly formulated theory or program based on a specific interpretation of history, fascism introduced no systematic exposition of its ideology or purpose other than a negative reaction against socialist and democratic egalitarianism. The growth of democratic ideology and popular participation in politics in the 19th cent. was terrifying to some conservative elements in European society, and fascism grew out of the attempt to counter it by forming mass parties based largely on the middle classes and the petty bourgeoisie, exploiting their fear of political domination by the lower classes [my underlining]. Forerunners of fascism, such as Georges Boulanger in France and Adolf Stöker and Karl Lueger in Germany and Austria, in their efforts to gain political power played on people’s fears of revolution with its subsequent chaos, anarchy, and general insecurity. They appealed to nationalist sentiments and prejudices, exploited anti-Semitism , and portrayed themselves as champions of law, order, Christian morality, and the sanctity of private property.

Characteristics of Fascist Philosophy

Fascism, especially in its early stages, is obliged to be antitheoretical and frankly opportunistic in order to appeal to many diverse groups. Nevertheless, a few key concepts are basic to it. First and most important is the glorification of the state and the total subordination of the individual to it. The state is defined as an organic whole into which individuals must be absorbed for their own and the state’s benefit. This "total state" is absolute in its methods and unlimited by law in its control and direction of its citizens.

A second ruling concept of fascism is embodied in the theory of social Darwinism. The doctrine of survival of the fittest and the necessity of struggle for life is applied by fascists to the life of a nation-state. Peaceful, complacent nations are seen as doomed to fall before more dynamic ones, making struggle and aggressive militarism a leading characteristic of the fascist state. Imperialism is the logical outcome of this dogma.

Another element of fascism is its elitism. Salvation from rule by the mob and the destruction of the existing social order can be effected only by an authoritarian leader who embodies the highest ideals of the nation. This concept of the leader as hero or superman, borrowed in part from the romanticism of Friedrich Nietzsche , Thomas Carlyle , and Richard Wagner , is closely linked with fascism’s rejection of reason and intelligence and its emphasis on vision, creativeness, and "the will."

Corporative state

The economic system inaugurated by the Fascist regime of Benito Mussolini in Italy. It was adapted in modified form under other European dictatorships, among them Adolf Hitler’s National Socialist regime in Germany and the Spanish regime of Francisco Franco. Although the Italian system was based upon unlimited government control of economic life, it still preserved the framework of capitalism. Legislation of 1926 and later years set up guilds, or associations, of employees and employers to administer various sectors of the national economy. These were represented in the national council of corporations. The corporations were generally weighted by the state in favor of the wealthy classes, and they served to combat socialism and syndicalism by absorbing the trade union movement. The Italian corporative state aimed in general at reduced consumption in the interest of militarization. “

Retrieved 25 February 2011, Third World Traveler, http://www.thirdworldtraveler.com/Fascism/Fascism_def_char_hx.html

I’m not making this up folks. What did the man say? “Bad thing happen when good people do nothing?”

My Pain

The screams and shouts come loud into the room.
They come in and they go out and come in again.
The screams and shouts and smiles and laughter
Ring around the room.
They are a pain,
As child birth is a pain I guess,
That brings great joy.

Why do I come here? The alarm blats and blats and blats.
Is it the methodical making and meting out of mind matter?
Why do I come here? The house is cold and dark and empty.
Is it the damned demanding and remanding by mandate?
Why do I come here? The streets are pocked and crowded and long.
Is it the closeted bickering and snickering of colleagues?
Why do I come here? The halls are empty and the room is a mess.
Is it the knowledge that no matter what I do,
I will stand condemned by a nation of sheep,
Who neither know nor care,
But are trained to pour their bile
On those who know and care.

I come here because
The screams and shouts come loud into the room.
They come in and they go out and come in again.
The screams and shouts and smiles and laughter
Ring around the room.
They are my pain,
As child birth is a pain I guess,
That brings great joy.

March 2010

Lullaby

Don’t be afraid, for it’s only the night,
Stealing around us, holding us tight,
Like water surrounds us, this warm moist night,
Soothing our bodies, but bringing on fright.

Don’t be afraid, for it’s only the night,
Brought with the kindness of those who adore,
Powerful masters who dreamt up the night,
Whose wealth of mild dreams gives us soothing delight,
Whose soft, patient hands hold back the cruel light.

Don’t be afraid, for it’s only the night.
The dreams that it brings are beautifully pure.
You dream the strangeness. You make the fright.
Yours are the monsters that prowl through the night,
Stealing your pleasures, stealing delight,
Stealing and stealing as always tonight.

But don’t be afraid, for it’s only the night,
Brought by the wise ones who mean you no harm,
Who know you would perish without any light,
(Who know you would perish, a warming delight,)
If they don’t protect you in the dark of the night.

No, don’t be afraid, for it’s only the night.
It isn’t they who give you this fright.
You dream the terrors that prowl through the night,
Turn masters to monsters, where there’s no light.
You dream the evil they do to your soul,
Imagine the menace that lurks down the hole,
Make up the terror that seethes from the gloom.
You are the one who’s alone in the room.
You dream the peril that skulks ‘neath the bed,
Phantasms of your mind make up your dread.
Yes,
You dream the terrors that prowl through the night.

These are not dangers.
There’s nothing to fear.
Those are not strangers,
Those voices you hear.

Don’t be afraid, for it’s only the night,
The masters of darkness will make it all right,
Quelling your fears, and calming your fright,
Controlling what’s there in the absence of light.

Don’t be afraid, for it’s only the night,
Stealing around us, holding us tight,
Like water surrounds us, this warm moist night,
Soothing our bodies, but bringing on fright.

October 2009

 

 

Prepare for the end of the world. More on the ten o’clock news.

I was just having some thoughts while driving home this afternoon. I had stayed a little later than I had intended, it was snowing and still a little icy, and it was Friday, so I could have and did anticipate a slow, trafficky commute. I had the pleasure of a fine young man, whom I knew lived on my way home and who would have had to take two city busses in a lengthy trip home. He offered the opportunity for some good talk about school and books we had read and liked and didn’t like. Having his company, made the trip tolerable in the face of some pretty irritating demonstrations of driving that would have lit all my fires on a lonely trip.

This is Minnesota, and now is climate change. Global warming doesn’t mean everywhere keeps on being as it has always been, but one or two degrees centigrade warmer. No. no. Here in the provinces, it means hurricane levels of low pressure rolling through setting new records, spring and summer arriving a few weeks ahead of schedule, and temperatures in the seventies one week and the teens two weeks later. In other words, it means wacky adjustments to the new normal, One thing has not change here in Minnesota though; it snows and we have to drive in it.

Another change that comes with climate change, though I don’t think there is any causal link, is a progressive increase in the tone of weather prediction and reporting. Weather is drama.  Katrina set the mark for a new high in politicized media hype around weather. Not that Katrina didn’t deserve the coverage, but such a media blitz doesn’t come often, thank goodness, or easily. I does change the game though. Now, the weather people assure us that weather is a sign of Armageddon. Demonic catastrophe falls from the clouds in paralyzing sheets. It swells from the seas in all consuming waves. It screams out of the very air around us in shrieking blasts. I mean, this really sells more soap than they do on WDUM. With this in our minds, mine and the driver of the car ahead of me, I could understand why that car was travelling 15 miles per hour while everyone was trying to maneuver around it on somewhat slippery roads in the Friday afternoon rush. That driver had heard the weather report warning of the almost certain difficulty on the drive home once the snow began to fall. That driver, like me, had heard this warning  Wednesday and yesterday and this morning, three? Six? A dozen times? "It must be bad out here. These other drivers have no idea how bad these conditions are!"

We did indeed know how bad conditions were. The streets were riddled with cars driven by hundreds, perhaps thousands of people who believed death was stalking them in an ice encrusted Kenworth truck, or maybe a beslushed Prius. They slowed for intersections, although they were already going slowly. They straddled lanes to avoid a sudden, perilous sideways slide into a city bus. Tentative. Cautious. And making driving conditions damnedably difficult, just as the weather person had warned me.

I realized, though I did not share my realization with my young passenger, that the media were competing in this dramatizing of rather typical predictions and events because they need to get and keep our attention as part of the free market environment in which we are currently wallowing. We live in market driven times. The old fifties assessment that the advertisers created the need they were then ready to fill has become more systemic, more internalized in our twenty-first century psyche. In almost Pavlovian obedience, we are always searching around for things we need, and we will know we need them when we find them. Since we are always searching, the world must be ever ready to produce needs. Today’s drivers needed to know that the drive home tonight would be difficult. I would not have been able to assess the surface conditions walking across the street and parking lot from school, brushing the snow off my cold car, driving out of the parking lot and down the block to the stop sign, and there turning left. I had however already learned from six or seven animated, terror fueled  media warnings what I needed to know; the driving conditions were going to be difficult.

Enjoying my oppositional disorder to the max, I drove as I normally would on slightly slippery streets, made slippery by the way by the ice  remained from two days before. We had not needed to be warned about that storm so much. A lost marketing opportunity.

Well, if the media are not trying to cause traffic jams with their weather forecasting, why does it happen? And it does happen. It feels hotter when we are told repeatedly how hot it will be, colder when we’re told how cold, and snowier when we’re told how snowy it will be.  When Democrats were told by almost every media outlet for weeks that they would not be going to the polls during a midterm election in a great recession because they were seriously unexcited about the election, they dutifully did not vote. Why do we comply in these self-fulfilling prophesies promulgated by the media markets in the guise of news and weather? Because they tell us what we need to know, and therefore, we know that if they hadn’t told us, it was because we didn’t need to know. We are after all helpless, and the media simply plays to our sense of helplessness. It assumes, perhaps correctly, that we cannot do anything to improve our lives, and we certainly can do nothing to make this a better world. That’s out of our hands, and luckily someone else’s fault. We will be told what we need to know.

I got my young man home in plenty of time. The snow wasn’t so bad. I guess I didn’t need to know.

Now, I must admit, it is some days later, and we are in the middle of the worst snow storm in almost 20 years, which the media has been hyping for two days as the worst blizzard in nearly 20 years. I hate when they’re right on top of 60 hours of alarmist, apocalyptic doom weather news!

Embrace your cultural identities

The connection between culture – heritage and history – and individual identity is definite. We are our histories, our experiences and how we have been given to understand values. We may reject or deny, but rejecting or denying something still brings it into our existence. Only ignorance can create that which is not. Knowing and understanding our own personal and familial histories is clarifying, if not actually defining of our knowing and understanding of self. Discovering more of our history, the historical context of the place we grew up and spent our formative and the stories of the people who surrounded and influenced those years, expands our knowledge and understanding of self, who we are and how we got to be us. More knowledge and understanding comes from knowing and understanding the further back history of the place we grew up and the histories of the people who came there, those histories that created the historical context of or childhood and youth and peopled it with people such as they were.

All this knowledge and understanding of where we came from and how we came to be who we are, for good or bad, forms the layers of our culture—personal, familial, associative, local, regional, national/ethnic and global. We are to a greater or lesser degree a product of all of this, and the better we know it, the better we understand it, the better we know and understand who we are as an individual in all of this. And the more empowered we are to do something about it if we wish, or not, possibly depending on how comfortably fitted all the parts of our self are.

This knowledge and understanding is also very empowering for changing our relationship to others. We may walk away from some things and toward others. We may capitalize on our strengths and bolster our weaknesses. (Yes, I used that word – humbling, yes but not humiliating and not euphemistic.) We may share what we know with others to help them understand us, and we can better understand others and truly appreciate their differences, differences that can teach and enrich us as encountering new histories and new people do, when those encounters are equitable. Self knowledge is self empowerment. Shared knowledge cast light on the shadow of ignorance. Ignorance, observed a nineteen year old sociology student, leads to fear and fear leads to hatred. Then doesn’t knowledge lead to security and comfort, and don’t security and comfort lead to acceptance and love, love in the sense of loving thy neighbor, love and the binding force in community?

We should study and discover our on histories and heritage and the histories and heritage of as many others as we practically can, certainly those with whom we must live and work and learn. And I think this is particularly true for those in the dominant positions in a society. Whiteness has no privilege when we know its history, class has enormous, too often unmet responsibility when we know its history, and affluence has a counter balance whose history suggests to possibilities of a future price, a consequence. What we don’t know is perhaps what is or will be hurting us. We can start to make a better world when we learn everything we can about the individual piece of the world that we are.

Hi?

Usually I try to be serious, well, sometimes anyway, but on my way to school this morning, I saw one of those little things in life that sort of drives me crazy—a right turn hand signal by a bicyclist.

Okay. It’s petty, yes, but it’s so silly. Here’s what I mean. If you’re trying to tell someone you want them to go or move something to one side or the other, you simply point in that direction. The farther away they are, the larger the arm gesture is likely to be. Right?

All right, so I’m in my car and the left turn signal doesn’t work. What do I do? Well, of course if I’m under 60, I don’t do anything because signally my intention does not exist in my cognitive vocabulary. Even if the signal did work, I would only engage it because my hand bumped the lever while turning the wheel. No, no. If I wanted to signal a left turn with the window open, even in the dead of a Minnesota winter, I would thrust my arm straight out to the left to say, boldly, “I’m turning left!” In computer parlance, it’s very intuitive.

Now my bicycle that I often ride on the roads and trails does not have turn signals and I am over 60, so I use hand signals. When I plan on turning left, I stick my arm out to the left and even point with my index finger for those less perceptive, less intuitive individuals approaching from behind or ahead. I even move over to the left, assuming the way is clear. People seem to be able to figure this out pretty well, and I don’t think it’s because they’re all using hand signals in their automobile.

HowNow there are times when I’m approaching other cyclists, and one of them gives me a 1950’s stereotype Indian “How” greeting. “Hi?”  I try to say hello in return, but they pull off to their right and ignore me. I was offended by this for several seconds, but I have now figured out what’s going on.

Back in my car with defective turn signals, I know I must indicate my intention to turn right by sticking my arm out the left window, raising my forearm up. I would stick my arm straight out the right window if I were in the UK, but here in the land of big cars driving on the BikeRightright hand side of the road, such a gesture would do to damage my passenger more than indicate anything to anyone outside the car. Clearly the only window I can gesture out of is the left—down for slowing and stopping, up for turning right and straight out for turning left.

I have no windows on my bike. I can reach visibly to the left and to the right. I can signal a turn in either direction without depending on the unknowledgeable knowing what “How” means. I can, though I seldom do, signal a stop by putting either arm down, palm to the rear. So when I see someone in their local club kit pedaling through BikeRightNewrush hour traffic, glibly offering native American greetings to morning commuters, I have to snicker.  Is pointing too analogical in the digital age? Is semaphore better?