So, was it good for you?

“Eccentric,” says Diana Vreeland, as played by Juliet Stevenson, “is a word that boring people use to describe someone I think of as interesting.” Boring people might call Infamous, a film about Truman Capote, “eccentric.”

Some might think of Infamous as “the second Capote movie,” since it premiered about a year after the 2005 film Capote, which won Philip Seymour Hoffman the Oscar for best actor. While I highly admire Hoffman’s work (particularly in such flicks as Nobody’s Fool, Magnolia, and even his very comic turn in Along Came Polly), if Infamous had come out before Copote, I doubt he’d have snagged the golden statue, and I’d be willing to wager that Toby Jones — who plays, or rather, becomes “Tru Heart” in Infamous — would have at least garnered a nomination. (This film also stars Sandra Bullock, Daniel Craig, Sigourney Weaver, Hope Davis, Jeff Daniels, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Isabella Rossellini.)

For my money, Infamous gives a more textured and nuanced portrayal of Truman Capote, a writer who had split lives between high society and his oldest friends, between his flamboyant wit and his dark past. This film is based on George Plimpton’s book Truman Capote: In Which Various Friends, Enemies, Acquaintances and Detractors Recall His Turbulent Career, an oral history of Capote. Thanks to this built-in format, writer/director Douglas McGrath gives himself the ability to add exposition (in the form of “interviews” with Capote’s pals) to paint a clearer picture of Truman, explaining his motives, both as a sassy gossip and as a writer obsessed with a morbid tale, a tale that takes over his life.

That thing called “plot” goes like this…. Truman Capote reads a 300-word article in The New York Times about a quadruple murder in Holcomb, Kansas, and he decides to write an article about the impact of the crime on this small town. Once there, with his friend Harper Lee along for the ride, he finds it difficult to get folks to open up, until they realize that he’s interesting, funny, and connected to the stars (he can’t seem to help himself but name-drop). As the story of the murders becomes clearer, Capote decides to write an entire nonfiction book on the subject. He ends up interviewing the two criminals at great length, developing a close emotional bond with Perry Smith, one of the two murderers. The pair are found guilty, and, after a numerous appeals, are hung, allowing Capote to add the final period to In Cold Blood.

That’s the bear bones version. But when you watch the whole movie, you’ll see a writer unraveling, obsessing, and changing, or, what is more likely the case, coming to grips with his own desires and his own hidden past.

Here’s the thing: this film and the film Capote differ a great in terms of the “facts,” which raises the important conflicts behind any form of nonfiction story-telling. There’s no way not to lie, to bend reality, to the alter the facts, because the facts are always relative. The truth, it turns out, might only exist in our imaginations. And as we see in Infamous, this “fact” is both delightfully freeing and overwhelmingly terrifying at the same time.

For a witty and wise film about duality, art, crime, and hope, check out the trailer below. You won’t be bored, or, for that matter, boring.

“They” want you terrified of idenity theft, but identity theft happens so infrequently, it’s all but a myth.

I’m not saying it doesn’t happen. I’m not saying use your 401K forms as Christmas wrap. I’m not saying if you run out of business cards then hand someone your credit card. I’m not even saying stop shredding sensitive documents (hell, if nothing else, it’s kind of fun). But I am going to say this:

According to Wired magazine*, the odds of ever being the victim of identity theft is 2.9 in 100.** That’s only 2.9% of us. Rest easy. Dream of your social sercurity number dancing the mambo with your driver’s license as your medical records watch on, utterly delighted.

If you do want to take some actions, this article is for you. But we’ll be napping. Let us know when you’re done.

- – - – - -

* WIRED. Dec. 2006.p. 56 Clive Thompson

**Sure, if you lose your wallet, you’re a little screwed. Or if your company gets hacked and your financial records become exposed, well, that could be trouble.

Just a head’s up on the newest member of our sidebar, a blog-ad for GoVote.org, which we’re hosting gratuit. If you’re not sure if you’re registered to vote, or if you’ve recently moved, or if you know someone who isn’t registered to vote, this website is a valuable resource.

With GoVote.org, which is run by Working Assests and MobileVoter.org, you can do all the “work” online, and the website will generate a form that you simply print, shove in an envelope, and send off (um… you also need a stamp, but we’re assuming you know how mail works).

You can also use the service to email or text-message pals who might need a friendly “Hey, you! Do us all a favor and vote, eh?” (If you don’t live as close to Canada as I do, you might leave off the “eh.”)

Want the facts? Will the FAQs do? Click over here, my civically-minded amigo.

America has done almost all it can to systematically and cavalerly destroy (something we’re troublingly good at) Native American traditions, reservations, and the rights of soveriegn Native nations. I’m not sure, if we look back through our shared history, if we could have done much more harm.

I grew up less than a mile from a Tuscarra reservation, and my mother teaches in a public school district with an elementary school on the same reservation. In short, Indian culture is a big part of my slice of Niagara county. Nonetheless, I’ll make another admission: I don’t nearly know enough about the rich history, religious beliefs, and traditions of the folks who were loving and living on this land of ours before Plymouth Rock caused a cultural and political sea change of Tsnami proportions.

On February 15th, I came across this:

the U.S. government on Thursday officially recognized the American Indians whose ancestors met the British Pilgrim settlers at Plymouth Rock in 1620. The Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe of Massachusetts…held the first Thanksgiving meal with the European settlers.

It’s the U.S. Understatement of the Year* to say that this is meal they probably wouldn’t be wrong to regret. I’m not sure we need more evidence that we’re slow to do what’s right by this section of our fellow Americans, minorities only because of the rest of us.

You can learn more about Native nations by following the following links:

• You can read engaging and interesting articles at the Native Peoples Magazine online.
• You can check out an online museum of Native American Indians.
• You can view art created by Native Americans.

* * * * *

* We regret to say that this isn’t a real award. It should be. Previous contemporary winners would include:

• “The ‘85 Bears have a shot at winning the Super Bowl.”
• “Oprah who?”
• “Maybe Nixon was lying.”

America has done almost all it can to systematically and cavalerly destroy Native American traditions, reservations, and the rights of soveriegn Native nations. I’m not sure, if we look back through our shared history, if we could have done much more harm. Now we have a chance to, in a small way, undo some of what we’ve done, what we’re all responsible for changing.

I’ll admit to my ignorance: before stumbling on the the American Indian College Fund, I didn’t even realize that there were tribal colleges, colleges that offer accredited degrees and include traditional Native cultures alive within the

As I mentioned before, I grew up less than a mile from a Tuscarra reservation, and my mother teaches in a public school district with an elementary school on the same reservation. In short, Indian culture is a big part of my slice of Niagara county. Nonetheless, I’ll make another admission: I don’t nearly know enough about the rich history, religious beliefs, and traditions of the folks who were loving and living on this land of ours before Plymouth Rock caused a cultural and political sea change. (Check out our report on the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe, the one that stumbled on the first European settlers.)

We owe it to our history to do something. There are more ways to help than to donate money, spread the word, subscribe to the e-newsletter, and shop at the AICF online store. If you live near one of the 32 colleges, consider going to a culture event on the campus or a speaking engagement. This kind of knowledge breeds understanding and helps each of us to reduce notions of ethnocentrism we grew up believing. As such, our empathy, the most progressive of emotions, can only grow.

America has done almost all it can to systematically and cavalerly destroy Native American traditions, reservations, and the rights of soveriegn Native nations. I’m not sure, if we look back through our shared history, if we could have done much more harm. Now we have a chance to, in a small way, undo some of what we’ve done, what we’re all responsible for changing.

I’ll admit to my ignorance: before stumbling on the the American Indian College Fund, I didn’t even realize that there were tribal colleges, colleges that offer accredited degrees and include traditional Native cultures alive within the

I grew up less than a mile from a Tuscarra reservation, and my mother teaches in a public school district with an elementary school on the same reservation. In short, Indian culture is a big part of my slice of Niagara county. Nonetheless, I’ll make another admission: I don’t nearly know enough about the rich history, religious beliefs, and traditions of the folks who were loving and living on this land of ours before Plymouth Rock caused a cultural and political sea change.

On February 15th, I came across this:

the U.S. government on Thursday officially recognized the American Indians whose ancestors met the British Pilgrim settlers at Plymouth Rock in 1620. The Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe of Massachusetts…held the first Thanksgiving meal with the European settlers.

A meal they probably wouldn’t be wrong to regret. I’m not sure we need more evidence that we’re slow to do what’s right by this section of our fellow Americans, minorities only because of the rest of us.

There are more ways to help than to donate money, spread the word, subscribe to the e-newsletter, and shop at the AICF online store. If you live near one of the 32 colleges, consider going to a culture event on the campus or a speaking engagement. This kind of knowledge breeds understanding and helps each of us to reduce notions of ethnocentrism we grew up believing. As such, our empathy, the most progressive of emotions, can only grow.

National Breast Cancer Awareness Month is October, but, much like other month-long awareness efforts, we don’t believe the support and education should be limited to 30-some days. Why? Because The National Cancer Institute estimates that 178,480 women, and 2,030 men will get diagnosed with breast cancer in 2007. Added up, those numbers and it’s more than the population of Providence, Rhode Island.

40,460 of those women and 450 of those men will be killed by the disease, and the only cancer that afflicts more women is skin cancer.

My aunt recently dropped me a line reminding me about a simple way each of us can both donate money to help breast cancer research and at the same time spread the vital word: the U.S. Postal Service breast cancer semipostal (this means “it is valid for postage at the First-Class first-ounce letter rate in effect at the time of purchase.”) As of May 2006, this stamp, which has been around for eight years, has raised over $50.3 million dollars for breast cancer research.

A book of 20 costs a measly 9 bucks, only $1.20 more than a regular book. So, for $1.20 you can fund vital research and spread the word to the recipiants of your letters, bills, and birthday cards.

Please pick some up today, because today you can make a difference.

Because of the increasing (and rightful) popularity of organic produce, organic agriculture educational programs are finally sprouting up (sorry about the pun) in the United States. According to an article in Alternatives Journal reprinted in the Utne Reader, the first full-fledged major in this field of study was started in 2006 at Washington State University, becoming only the second univerisity to offer such a program (the University of Guelph in Ontario, Canada, was the first).

Since many of the students taking on this degree are newbies to traditional farming and gardening, there’s a need for more experential learning.

At the University of Guelph:

the program is tapping commercial organic farmers to help students get the experience they need through the Collaborative Regional Alliance for Farmer Training (CRAFT) program. This group of farms, though not officially connected to the university, have pooled their collective knowledge to give interns a more diverse experience: different farms, different farmers, different techniques.

According to E. Ann Clark, a professor in the Canadian program:

“These students tend to have a social as well as a biophysical interest in farming, so they see farming in a broader societal context. It tends to be the more activist-type students who are willing to make such a profound change. Because it is a big change, from being a nonfarmer to becoming a farmer.”

Too often, America seems to take Canada’s lead, but we’re glad we at least have a model of a more progressive culture to literally look up to, and it’s encouraging and satisfying to see citizens of the world taking activism into their professional lives. In 2002 at the Washington State University, “50 faculty and staff who were involved in organic research and education projects,” and graduate students there are working on theses dealing with orchard productivity, organic wheat production, income risk assessment, the use of composted tea to help with plant growth, the use of compost from mint distilleries, and “Entomopathogenic Nematode Efficacy against Colorado Potato Beetle under Organic and Conventional Fertility.” We have no clue what that last one means, but it sounds important. Why? Because we like potatoes.

The success of any large-scale progressive shift is typically dependent on some combination of three factors more than any others: economics, education, and ethics. Now that companies are seeing an increased demand for organic foodstuffs, the education must follow in order for the movement to grow and sustain itself in the long term. In particular, we believe this will help prevent factory farming from taking the lead, allowing small farmers to reap the financial benefits.

P.S. Lest we forget, we’re now going to root for the Cougars every chance we get, and we’ll think of them as we pour organic milk over our morning Fruit Loops. I’m seriously considering getting a t-shirt. Yes, I know, this might seem over-the-top (link to movie), but I’m an over-the-top kind of guy, ok?

As we see it, part of our job at Progressive Wednesday is to point you, dear readers, toward art, be it visual, linguistic, or musical, that has impacted our lives in the hope that it might impact yours. As we’ve written before, we believe that art, more than any other human endeavor, can express and alter a society’s desires and intentions.

So, in that spirit, let me point you to one of my favorite contemporary artists, Dale Chihuly, a glass craftsman extraordinaire. I’ve seen his work in several of my favorite museums, including the Columbus Museum of Art and the Albright-Knox Museum in Buffalo, and I also got to see one of his installations at the Franklin County Conservatory, where his glass sculptures were imbedded within the various plant exhibits. Some were even set afloat in a pool of koi.

His work is an explosion form, a chaos of color. To see it is to barely believe it. Many of the pieces are overwhelmingly gorgeous and enormous, something you wish your mind had concocted, imagination come to life. For a moment there I thought I was over-selling his art, but I’ve looked over some more photos of it, and I’m not.

But Chihuly isn’t solely responsible for his work. Glass-blowing on his scale necessarily requires a team of skilled artisans, and his even more so: Chihuly is blind in one eye and lacks depth perception. His singular vision (no pun, I swear it, intended) seems to be to create pure beauty. With these groups of artists, he’s able to make, not just small objects someone might keep their home, but glass sculptures that can exist in public spaces.

From his website, you can find travelling exhibitions near you, galleries selling his work (you can look and not buy, folks — just don’t break it, ok?), and museums that have his work as part of their permanent collections. Even if “art’s not your thing,” it’s worth it to find out if Chihuly’s glass is near you.

Koi photo c/o this anonymous picture clicker.

Chandelier photo c/o this killer photographer.

Both photos depict pieces I’ve seen.

The Science of Sleep, written and directed by Michel Gondry, who also directed the Oscar-winning Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, is the Platonic form of art-house flicks. As such, it’s a bit of an acquired taste. Not like chocolate covered caviar soup with Tabasco, but more like something concocted by the in-house French cook on an episode of the Iron Chef (not the American version, but the original and far superior Japanese show).

This is ultimately two movies for the price of one: an analysis of the nature of dreams, and a love story. Stephane, played by Gael Garcia Bernal, pines for his next-door neighbor, Stephanie, played by Charlotte Gainsbourg. Part of Stephane’s problem, besides the fact that Stephanie doesn’t seem to share his affection, is that he has difficulty distinguishing between dreamscapes and reality. To me, this makes sense because dreams really are part of our realities, concotions of our unconscious fused into our memories whether we like it or not. Stephane wants to express his desire for Stephanie, but stumbles with language and action. It calls to mind lyrics from the Wilco song “I’m The Man Who Loves You”:

All I can see is black and white

and white and pink with blades of blue

that lay between the words I think on a page

I was meaning to send to

you [but] I couldn’t tell if it’d bring my heart

the way I wanted when I started

writing this letter to you

but if I could you know I would

just hold your hand and you’d understand

I’m the man who loves you.

We end up empathizing with Stephane, whose dreams haunt him and delight him, whose dreams leave him obsessed with the positive and negative possibilities, whose desires and fears confuse and confound him. We empathize, in part, because we realize through the film that dreams are the way we wish the world was or ways we’re glad the world isn’t.

Maybe metaphors are the best way to describe a movie that’s like watching a metaphor about dreams unfold. It’s Being John Malcovich meets Tim Burton’s A Nightmare Before Christmas. It’s like watching the lovechild film of Jackson Pollock, Gertrude Stein, and the Rubix Cube. It’s a beautiful cable access show mixed in a blender with sunflowers. “Randomness,” says Stephanie, “is very difficult to achieve.” But achieve it Gondry does. This movie is an experiment with visual, musical, and linguistic art (there are three languages used in the film).

It’s worth it to see The Science of Sleep for the sheer visual spectacle since it’s more graphic exposition than narrative. If this film is a claymation Mack truck, then there’s a wild and wise mind behind the wheel. See it in the trailor for yourself.

Mary Adams says goodbye. To whom? To soldiers headed to Iraq. How many soldiers? 56,000:

She’s a USO volunteer and since 2002 has made it a personal goal to send off every soldier here. This 71-year-old never misses a flight.

Widowed, she has no children. But when you watch her work, you realize to Mary Adams every kid in camouflage is hers.

She shakes their hands. She encourages them to stay in touch with their loved ones. She gives them witty pep talks. She’s doing far more than I am for these women and men who sacrifice so much. Sacrifice, though, is the wrong word. I don’t know if there is a word in English for it. Maybe there’s a sentence: they lay down their lives hoping not to kill, but hoping others might live.

We know we’ve asked a lot of you to donate small amounts of money here and there to nonprofits we admire for their progressive agendas. So, this time, we’re going to point you somewhere else. We’re going to ask you to lift nothing more than a virtual pen.

eMail Our Military is an organization whose name kind of says it all. After a simple registration process for the protection of our military, you’ll be able to email soldiers, lift their spirits, and start an important and helpful conversation. When I was teaching at Ohio State, many of my students ended up getting shipped off to Iraq. The branch campus where I worked was the place of study for many poor students, a great many of them were in ROTC or the reserves to help pay for college. During one class, a student got a phone call, left the room, and waved me into the hallway to tell me he had to leave immediately because his unit got called up. Another student cried in front of me as he feared the worst when he got shipped off (he drove semi-trucks, and told me that if attacked the survial rate was about as small as it gets). One student, Adam, he emailed me several times from Iraq, asking me how my classes were going, letting me know that he was okay, and telling me that he planned on going back to college when he returned. I’ve lost touch with Adam. I’ve thought many times of looking over casualty lists, but I can’t bring myself to do it. But I’m going to start doing something today. I’ve printed the form. I’ve filled it out. I’m anxious to start up new conversations with men and women I admire more than I can express.

It’s nice to put a “Support Our Troop” magnet on your car. It’s nicer to start a conversation with a soldier who works harder than most of us can imagine, who probably pines for words from home every day. Please join me, and register, not tomorrow, but today.

One of my new favorite poets is Brian Turner, an Iraq war vet whose book Here, Bullet has been toasted with more than a handful of awards and honors. Turner graduated from the MFA program in creative writing at the University of Oregon and then enlisted in the Army, where he spent the next seven years. Why? Well, in his own words: “If we could drink a bottle of vodka and talk about this until dawn, I might be able to answer that particular question.” Like most difficult questions, there’s no simple answer, and I believe his poetry is evidence of that. There aren’t simple ways to describe warfare, so the medium of poetry, with its textures and multiple levels of meaning seems an ideal genre to write about something equal parts distressing and complicated.

Here’s a sample, the title poem from this this brave collection, courtesy of Boing Boing:

Here, Bullet

If a body is what you want,
then here is bone and gristle and flesh.
Here is the clavicle-snapped wish,
the aorta’s opened valves, the leap
thought makes at the synaptic gap.
Here is the adrenaline rush you crave,
that inexorable flight, that insane puncture
into heat and blood. And I dare you to finish
what you’ve started. Because here, Bullet,
here is where I complete the word you bring
hissing through the air, here is where I moan
the barrel’s cold esophagus, triggering
my tongue’s explosives for the rifling I have
inside of me, each twist of the round
spun deeper, because here, Bullet,
here is where the world ends, every time.

If that doesn’t hit you to the core, I’m not sure what poetry will. Poems in the book vary in topic (wounded solidiers, suicide bombings, and, of course, eulogy, amongst several others) and point of view (he thoughtfully considers the perspective of Iraqis).

In his poem “Night in Blue,” Turner writes: “I have no words to speak of war.” When asked about the line, Turner had this to say:

“I realize that the line ‘I have no words to speak of war’ may appear coy on a literary surface. However, the line must be said. I felt I owed that to those who saw and experienced war in a much more devastating way. Some lost their homes. Some lost their family. Some lost limbs or came back to America with horror embedded within them. I was fortunate. Also, there are millions of stories needing to be witnessed and told. More needs to be said. Perhaps an alternate line might have read: We haven’t enough words to speak of war.”

We don’t. But this book is a start, it’s a start.

To order the book, simply click on the book cover above. To read more samples of the poetry in the book, click here or here. To learn more about Mr. Turner, click here, here, or here (the latter includes video). To listen to Turner read his work, click here or here.

On February 20th (we thought we’d give you a couple of days notice), everyone’s favorite chain restaurant (well, okay, my favorite chain restaurant), IHOP, will be dolling out a free short-stack of flapjacks, griddlecakes, tire patches, blankets sans the pigs, manhole covers, johnnycakes, or whatever it is that you call pancakes.

Why, pray tell, you ask? Two reasons:

1. February 20th is National Pancake Day (a.k.a. Mardi Gras, or Shrove Tuesday).
2. IHOP would like you to make a small donation to a very worthy cause: Children’s Miracle Network

The CMN is “the alliance of premier children’s hospitals.” Their 170 hospitals treat over 17 million kids every single year, in part because children require special medical care. Here are some stats about the hospitals:

• They treat 98% of all children in need of lung or heart transplants.
• They treat 88% of all kids with cancer.
• They treat 72% of all children with AIDS.
• They treat 90% of all kids with sickle cell.

You can learn more about this cool deal here, where you can also locate an International House of Pancakes near you, my children-and-brown-bucks-loving friends.

Photo care of this fine photographer.

A good friend of Progressive Wednesday recently brought an organization called Project Linus to my attention, and I thought I’d pass the info along. This organization’s heart is ten times bigger than the Tin Man’s, bigger even than the Grinch’s at the end of that inspiring Seuss tome. I think I’ll let Project Linus speak for itself:

First, it is our mission to provide love, a sense of security, warmth and comfort to children who are seriously ill, traumatized, or otherwise in need through the gifts of new, handmade blankets and afghans, lovingly created by volunteer “blanketeers.”

Second, it is our mission to provide a rewarding and fun service opportunity for interested individuals and groups in local communities, for the benefit of children.

The project goes like this: everyday folks make “quilts, tied comforters, fleece blankets, crocheted or knitted afghans, and receiving blankets,” and kids in need or distress get this gift from the loving hands of a generous soul. This whole thing is so beautiful I hardly know what to do with it — there’s barely room in my brain to process it, to hold onto it.

There are seven ways you can help out:

1. You can make a blanket.
2. You can donate fabric and other materials.
3. You can make a financial contribution.
4. You can start your own chapter of Project Linus.
5. You can contact Project Linus and thank them for the good work they do.
   
6. If you know of a child who might not otherwise receive a blanket, you can let Project Linus know.
7. You can pass the word around and around (just click the Share This button below and email away).

Project Linus has chapters in every state (and most states have several), so there’s bound to be one relatively close to you if you’re a crafty sort. For my money, just learning about this kind of organization is progress, because knowing such a fantastic people-powered nonprofit exists is inspiring. Charles Shultz would be proud.

If you can create, please create. If you can donate, please donate. If you can tell someone who makes blankets, please tell them.

(By the by — we’re always looking for a heads-up about progressive organizations, events, and movements, so if you’ve got one to share, just direct your mouse to our Contact page, and give us the 411 and link, s’il vous plait with sugar on top.)

Photo courtesy of this person over yonder.

ADD THE THING ABOUT LEARNING MORE ABOUT PROGRESSIVE WEDNESDAY

In “Pretty Damned Good News for Nature News”, there’s this:

A species of shark rarely seen alive because its natural habitat is 600 meters (2,000 ft) or more under the sea was captured on film by staff at a Japanese marine park this week.

… Marine park staff caught the 1.6 meter (5 ft) long creature, which they identified as a female frilled shark, sometimes referred to as a “living fossil” because it is a primitive species that has changed little since prehistoric times.

The ill animal was captured but “the shark died a few hours after being caught”. But at least these somewhat ugly suckers are still kicking and screaming (or swimming and… well, I don’t know what sound sharks make). The platypus, the llama, the manatee, and now this ridiculously wonderful creation. A divine high five to Whomever or Whatever made this thing possible — it boggles the imagination, I tell you, and not this kind of Boggle neither. It’s glorious, really.

You can take a gander for yourself.