Bird's Eye View

US Golf Open And Addressing The Ball

So I guess everyone--at least all golfers--have talked to death the sixth runner-up situation that leaves Phil Mickelson again in second place position at the 113th United States Open.  He's pretty sanguine about it, as far as the media reports, when many of us would be tearing our hair out at the thought of getting so close--six times--and still not coming home with the Big Win!

All the talk about golf over the weekend made me think about a phrase that my husband often uses when we play a golf course together.  He talks of "addressing the ball."  The phrase has to do with the preliminary preparation that a golfer is supposed to make before actually hitting the ball with a club.

My husband is not alone in his interest in this term.  In fact, there is so much interest in this subject that the Rules of Golf (yes, a near-sacred set of regulations that are used in connection with all golf play) were changed in 2012 to reflect this.  The new Rules of Golf state: "The player has 'addressed the ball' when he has grounded his club immediately in front or or immediately behind the ball, whether or not he has taken his stance."

We won't go into the fact that the Rules of Golf seem to be written only for men.  There is not a "she" or "her" to be found in here.  But what's more interesting to me at the moment is the phrase itself: addressing the ball.  Golfers take this seriously.  Even in a casual game, one of the rudimentary things about golf is preparing to hit the ball.  You don't just walk up to the ball with a club and bat away at it.  At least, not if you want it to go anywhere.

You prepare for the stroke.  You look at the ball.  You look at where you want the ball to go.  You adjust your position, your stance, as you look at the ball.  And you focus.  Focus.  Focus on that ball.  Not where you plan to go to lunch, not what your spouse said that morning before you left, not whether the deal you have been working on for months has a prayer of getting signed.  You focus on the ball.  Just that.  And then you take your swing.

I started thinking about the fact that when we play golf we take great pains to remove extraneous thoughts from our mind in order to address the ball.  Then we swing.

But so often when we are about to enter a conversation, when we are about to say something, we don't think about addressing the person to whom we are speaking.  We don't think of getting into focus so that we are not distracted by other thoughts and discussions.  We fail to think carefully before swinging, before opening our mouths. And we don't stop to think about the possible consequences of what we are about to say.

No wonder our conversations often end up as bogeys rather than a birdies.

Who Do You Want At Your Next Dinner Party?

C'mon, fess up.  Do you want Ed Snowden there so you can find out why and how he leaked all those American secret information to the media despite his oath of secrecy?

Or do you think there's really not that much interesting about him, that he's a self-centered guy who has decided that somehow he knows better than others in our Nation what should and should not be kept secret and how it should be kept secret?  And he is arrogantly willing to reveal information that could put others in danger?

I'm in the latter camp.  I'd rather have around my dinner table individuals who can explain the way our government handles this overload of information and just who gets security clearance and why.  I don't want this grandiose guy to be at the table.  Besides, I don't think he'd be a great conversationalist since he seems to be convinced of his own righteousness and doesn't leave much room for the possibility that he behaved wrongly, even criminally? 

I prefer a wide-ranging conversation with intelligent people I trust about whether privacy has taken on a whole new meaning in this country (and elsewhere) and whether we simply have to get comfortable with that.

 

 

I Don't Want To Listen to Ed Snowden's Talk

Just yesterday, I had a conversation with Kate Krontiris, an awesome young woman who is a Principal at Reboot, a firm whose mission is to cultivate a human-centered approach to public challenges in the United States.  Kate oversees Reboot's domestic business strategy and organizational development.  Our interests intersect strongly because she is particularly excited about curating a public conversation about a number of important topics.  Like the current role of women in the workplace.  Like developments in the relationships between men and women.

And like the current uproar over national security, personal privacy and governmental leaks.

We talked about the increased isolation of many people who participate reluctantly in the kind of communal and group activities that used to be taken for granted.  They prefer to text rather than have a face to face conversation.  They are individualistic to an extreme degree, often ignoring or even rebelling against the authority that most others take for granted.  They follow their own instincts even if it means that others are inconvenienced in the process.  Even if, in some case, others are put in harm's way by their activities. And although they may take oaths of allegiance, they will betray those oaths if it suits them.

And today we have their poster child, Ed Snowden.

He has inspired the kind of YouTube screamers who all think the U.S. government is out to get them, to tyrannize them, to listen to their every phone call and broadcast it to the world.  To them, Snowden is a hero.

They got it wrong.  Ed Snowden is a traitor.  Plain and simple.  And David Brooks said it all eloquently  in today's NY Times:  I agree with every word.

Maybe Kate and I should facilitate a conversation that rebuts the Snowden's of this world.

 

The Voice of the Eiffel Tower

I'm obsessed, as you know, with conversation, which at its most basic is the expression of thought through sound that we transmit through our mouths to one another.  We thus "give voice" to our ideas. 

In fact my obsession extends beyond the human voice to other sounds as well.  And I'm interested in our human response to sounds of all types.

So a recent video piece on the New York Times web site has me transfixed.  Joseph Bertolozzi, an American musician and composer, likes to make sounds not only from traditional instruments, but from artifacts, too, especially built structures.  Like bridges.  Like, believe it or not, the Eiffel Tower.

So once this idea got into his head, he got to work to make that happen, despite the fact that he doesn't speak French, had not one contact In Paris (or France for that matter).  Three years later, he is making music on the Eiffel Tower.  Or, more precisely he is making music using the Eiffel Tower as his instrument.

The story is a fascinating one, not only because he has so innovatively given voice to an iconic monument, but also because it is a remarkable example of how perseverance can result in an unlikely win.

My wish for you today is that you find that thing, that thought, that idea to which you would like to give voice and that you make it happen.

Voila!

Here's the video:

 

Let's Talk About Women Golfers

It had not really struck me until yesterday that many people have prejudices about women on the golf course that are a lot like the kind of prejudice that used to surround women drivers of automobiles.

I remember many times experiencing people--upon seeing a driver doing something inappropriate, wrong, or downright stupid--assume that if the driver was inept, it must surely be a woman. The label  "woman driver" was a prejudicial slur, indicating--often with a wink or knowing nod--what was assumed to be understood as truth: that women were lousy drivers, not at all up to the task of steering an automobile around our nation's streets and highways.

That attitude has pretty much disappeared as far as I can tell. It's well known that women in fact have a better safety record than men. 

But the "Woman driver" kind of prejudice has had a home on our nation's golf courses and it's still there .  Or at least at our nation's country clubs, where rules that were set in place decades ago are still applied, even though they do not reflect the reality of how and why women play golf.  For many years in the majority of country clubs, for example, there were only certain hours during the day when women were allowed on the course (even though they may have been full fledged members).  The assumption was that they played more slowly, more erratically, and would interrupt or inconvenience the men who wished to play.

There are still a number of rules, some of them pertaining to what is considered appropriate dress (skirts or shorts have to be no shorter than a particular length...that sort of thing.  And then there are the "ladies' tees" which prevail on all courses, as far as I know.  Ladies tees make the length of the drive from the tee to the green shorter for women, assuming that they don't have the skill to get the ball there as quickly as their male counterparts.  But that's silly...why aren't they just called "shorter tees" or some such, usable by beginners or shorter hitters of either sex?

These questions and more were discussed yesterday at a special program hosted by the St. Andrews Country Club in Westchester County, New York.  St. Andrews is celebrating its 125th Anniversary this year.  I understand it is the oldest gold club in the United States.  And it is a beauty.  The greens are gorgeous, the buildings stately and well preserved, the service and upkeep top notch.

The day was put together by Donna Orender, a fellow member of the New York Women's Forum, and she arranged for several of us members to be guests for the day at this "Celebration of Women in Golf," part of St. Andrews' weeklong commemoration of its 125th anniversary.  They pulled out all the stops, intending to introduce new golfers to the game and to continue to grow and expand the game of golf.

Our group of four had not one but two pros, both women who volunteered their time for the day to instruct us on the game.  Both of them are pros at top clubs in the United States.  And they were terrific.  I've taken golf lessons before (always from men, now that I think of it) and never have a had the experience I did yesterday.  Their instruction was easy to follow, no-nonsense, and helpful. 

We had a blast.  It was fun.  And I found a whole new way to talk about golf, in fact a whole new way to feel about golf.  Forget some of the unnecessary rules.  If you are playing just for fun, why not use a tee--if you feel like it--on the fairway?  Throw your ball out of the bunker if you feel like it.  And with those kinds of restraints taken away, the day was the best day of golf I've had.  ever.  And to top it all off I won the prize for the longest putt of the day, and the prize is a terrific new putter.  Now, watch my smoke the next time I play. 

Call me a woman golfer.  I'm delighted to be one!.

When You Talk Of Too Much Rain, Think of Germany

We've had what many New Yorkers think if just too much rain lately.  It's enough to have to take an umbrella to work, to wear galoshes, to consider wearing a raincoat. It's all such an inconvenience and we miss our wonderful, sun-filled early summer weekends.  Quelle Horreur!

But just talk with someone in Central Europe and your perspective will shift.  They've got too much rain also.  In fact they have so much rain, they are flooded.  Seriously flooded.  Nine people have died in the floods thus far and the water is still coming down.

Our new intern, Franziska Stefan, is from Leipzig, Germany.  When I asked her opinion in searching for today's blog topic, I thought she would mention the CitiBike program, causing complaints and delights, depending on with whom you're talking.  Or maybe the discussion about Mayor Bloomberg's post-mayoral  intentions of influencing policies in states around the country on topics of importance to him, like obesity, education and the like.  Or maybe how much all of us in the Flatiron district of Manhattan are missing the "Mad Sq Eats" pop up restaurants that left the neighborhood scene last Friday, May 31.

Instead, Franziska shyly suggested I look into the flooding issue that is so distressing to Germans.  Flooding?  Really?  I then did my homework and realized just how parochial our conversations can be.  I'm worried about getting a cheap lunch on Madison Square, and people in Germany are trying to protect their homes and businesses from flood waters.  They've been forced to call out the military to help with rescue and and damage prevention.  We thought Hurrican Sandy was bad.  And we talked about it incessantly.  The German floods sound that bad and worse. These are the worst floods in Central Europe  in nearly twelve years. And they are affecting a far wider breadth of Central Europe than our hurricane last year..

I realize that if I had not asked Franziska what was on her mind for today's blog, we would not have had the important conversation that ensued.  Once again I'm realizing how much everyone around me has to say and how so often they don't get the opportunity to express it.  People around them are listening to music on their headphones, or are talking on the phone, or are hard at work, or otherwise unavailable for talk.  That connector, talk. 

Listening to others talk is a good thing.  I promise to do more of it. 

 

I Spoke Too Soon About CitiBike

OK, I try my best to remain enthusiastic about New York's new bike share system despite the issues that came up in my first effort to use it yesterday, a hot, sticky June Sunday in Manhattan that felt like August dog days.

My husband and I decided to check out the new CitiBike system by inaugurating his year's membership in CitiBike and using the freebie gift card that came with his membership to get me a bike as well. We had talked about the New York Post's coverage of the new system and how much I disliked what I called their pessimistic, cynical reporting on the startup problems that are inevitable in launching a citywide program like this one.

But I started talking a little differently about halfway into our effort yesterday.  First of all, we learned that although there are hundreds of docking stations for the thousands of bikes included in the program, not a single one of them is located north of East 60th Street on the East Side.  Since we live at 96th Street, we realized that meant a haul down thirty blocks to get to the bikes but hey, not to worry, we knew we would love the bike ride once it starts.

So we get to the first station, at 58th and Third Avenue and there are lots of bikes.  But there are also five people standing there swearing at them because they are unable to get the bikes to "undock."  Even though they paid their money and inserted the code they were given at the kiosk, the bikes would not budge.

So, not willing to wait around for the explanation from the CitiBike people (four of the would-be bikers were trying to get through to the CitiBike phone line) we walked over to 58th and 2nd.  Only two bikes left.  Wow!  Quick! We'd better hurry.  John inserted his CitiBike key into the docking station and voila! no problem, he has his bike.  So I quickly went to the kiosk and tried to arrange for my freebie bike.  It takes a bit of entry steps and finally I inserted--as directed--my credit card to be charge $101 as a deposit on the bike that would, at the end of the ride, cost me nothing.  But no little slip came out with the code number I needed in order to unlock the bike.  We tried everything, finally trying John's credit card and yes, it charged him $101 also but never coughed up the needed code for unlocking the bike.

So we decided to call the CitiBike people.  Trouble is, the number plastered all over their materials and the kiosk as well, was not working.  Probably because other frustrated would-be cyclists were calling to complain about something or other.  Finally, on the 14th (!) try I got through on the line, only to be told that "there must be something wrong at that installation...would you mind trying another station elsewhere in the City?

My husband had had enough.  That's it, no bike ride, says he.  I cajoled him into trying one more location, this one at elsewhere in the 50's.  Lots of bikes, a good sign we thought.  But not so fast.  It would not accept John's key.  So he couldn't get his bike.  We never got around to checking to see whether I could get my freebie.

So we left the CitiBike experiment for another day, preferable a cooler one and one on which they have ironed out the many kinks.  While the woman on the phone at CitiBike was attempting to cancel our credit card charges (yes, you are right...somehow they didn't get cancelled and were on our on-line statement when we checked later last night) she acknowledged that there were a host of problems, but added enthusiastically that she is "optimistic they will soon all be resolved."

I'm optimistic, too.  I'm sure they will clear up the first-time hiccups.  But I guess I'll wait a while before I try it again.  And I know my husband is more than willing to leave CitiBike riding for another day.

Guest Blog: Thoughts About The Future

My name is Alina Mendt and I am from Hamburg, Germany. During my gap year, I decided to spend three months in America to gain some new experience and travel abroad. My program consists of six weeks of language course and an internship at Wf360.

I am absolutely amazed by New York--the city itself, its people and their different nationalities and cultures. This is why I am thankful for every day that I can spend in New York and the people I meet here.

It was during one of my first train commutes from famous Grand Central Station to Fairfield, one of New York’s green suburbs where I live during my stay in America, when an elderly man, out of the blue, smiled at me and wished me a good day. This simple little wish he conveyed to me, being so unprecedented, made me feel happy and thoughtful at the same time. I continued thinking about it for the rest of the evening and still like to think of it sometimes. There was something in the man’s manner of speaking that indicated his words implied more than just the overused phrase. As I replied the same to him, I also really meant it. 

Thinking of one day is one thing. But what kind of meaning do we bring to our talk about the future?

There is one who talks about the future with great success and whom I admire for his bright thoughts. His name is Al Gore and he served as Vice President of the United States under Bill Clinton. What I read in his new book  called The Future: Six Drivers of Global Change alarmed me and probably had the same effect on many other people who read it. Al Gore uses a metaphor in order to clarify his declaration that "what we are seeing is an imperfect and partial representation of a much larger reality”:

Describing the electromagnetic spectrum, often portrayed as a long thin horizontal rectangle divided into different segments ranging from very low to very high frequency wavelengths, Al Gore indicates that somewhere near the middle of the rectangle there is a very thin section representing the visible light. This is, of course, the only part of the entire spectrum that the human eye is able to see. But since our eyes are normally the only “instrument” with which we try to see the world around us, he continues to explain, we are naturally unaware of 99.9 percent of the spectrum that is invisible to us. In addition, we often only see what we want to see.

With all our modern technologies we are at least able to predict what will happen in the next few decades if we do not change anything. Of course we are changing things, but the impact of many of those changes cannot be seen yet.

Al Gore has convinced me that these possible occurrences--if we remain inactive--are alarming, so it is consequently important for us to continuously talk about the future, especially the measures we will take to protect the earth’s climate from dangerous changing and to let our words be followed by actions!

When I return to Hamburg, I plan to talk about Al Gore's book with my friends and produce a short film about the future, for which I can hopefully use some of Al Gore's thoughts.

Faceoff: The Cynics vs. The Optimists

So, which are you? I've been thinking of the fuss some New Yorkers have made over the newly installed bicycle-for-hire program called Bikeshare that allows people to take a bike from a docking station (there are hundreds now throughout the City) use for 45 minutes, then return to another of the docking stations. For free. More than 45 minutes, you start to pay. But in terms of easing traffic, enjoying fresh air, improving the environment, it's all good.

Yet there are complainers. They don't want the docking stations in their neighborhood (never mind that they are attractive, and that similar docking stations dot the great cities of Paris and London and Barcelona), or the bikes will be stolen (OK, not so easy but some will get stolen, yes, next question), and that they represent well, change, dammit! And we all know we resist change, whatever form it takes.

I'm told the New York Post wrote stories of what a disaster the Bikeshare program is. Yet I've read articles elsewhere about how terrific the program is. And I've talked wtih people ho have already tested the program and say it is wonderful, just what New York needed. In fact, wrote one biker who tried it out, strangers stopped him at nearly every corner and got onto conversation ("So you like it? Is it fun? How heavy is it? Is the traffic a problem?").

I thought about this clash of the cynics and optimists when I read Joel Lovell's piece in today's New York Times about Colum McCann's new book, TransAtlantic (comes out next week), His earlier book Let the Great World Spin, which he wrote to work through his anger and grief after the World Trade Center towers fell, is being used by high school teachers at Newtown High School, to help their teenage students work through their response to the tragedy just down the road at Sandy Hook Elementary School.

In this new work, among many things McCann deals with the difference between cynicism and optimism. In Transatlantic, he fictionalizes George Mitchell's efforts to broker the peace process between north and south in Ireland. Mitchell and McCann talked during the writing process, and Mitchell confirmed his view that "cynicism is easy. An optimist is a braver cynic." He goes on: "We're forced to change because we're forced to remember. And we're forced to remember when we're forced to confront."

I'm dealing with a group of friends on an issue that has grown contencious. Some want to remain in familiar, though increasingly unrewarding, territory; others want to forge ahead, optimistically, making an effort to shape the future of the group.

I can't help it. I bet with the optimists every time. It's just too easy to be a cynic and heck, as any good Midwesterner knows, stuff worth doing is generally hard. Bring it on.

Let's Talk About Orly Genger's Art in Madison Square Park

I am accumulating more and more reasons to love having my office in the Flatiron area of Manhattan. Today, my friend Monique Leahy, the guru of newsletters that only attorneys would love (but, luckily for Monique, there are lots of those folks) and I had lunch at the Mad Sq Eats food trucks (they close down, as planned, on Friday--waah!), then walked over to the park to check out Orly Genger's work.

Amazing! It's made of nautical rope, 1.4 million feet of nautical rope to be exact. And 100,000 gallons of bright yellow, red and blue paint. And lots of knots. I'm told the rope was collected up and down the Eastern seaboard of the United States, a kind of interesting re-purposing of shore-side artifact to urban art object.

There are three separate structures of this layered rope which has been knotted and shaped, looking much like a knitting project for giants. There are three works, each different, each undulating its way around a space in the park that defines an outdoor and open-to-the-sky area where people naturally sit and congregate.  Monique says she watched the set-up effort as volunteers manhandled the rope (apparently no easy task, as it is seriously heavy), attaching the layers of it to stanchions that maintain equilibrium, especially where the layered rows are tallest.

The effect is that each looks like a series of undulating waves. A wacky seashore in the City kind of look. And people are loving it. They touch the ropes, sit on the edge of one or the other of the pieces, eat lunch with one of them as a backdrop. 

I'm told at the end of the workday, they form the backdrop for a kind of happy hour gathering in the Park.

Go, Manhattan! And Bravo Madison Square Park!