Invisible Man Makes a Worthy Apearance

Huntington Theater

"I am an Invisible Man," the opening line in Ralph Waldo Ellison's classic American novel, hangs in the air, waiting for a challenge, reverberating through the slowly quieting audience.
A black man stands on stage, clad in a white singlet, surrounded by a set representing his Harlem basement hiding place in the 1930's.
And so begins nearly three hours of fast paced, racy and at times difficult to grasp dialogue, ripped from a age and place few have traveled or even care to acknowledge.
Perhaps high schools teach Ellison's novel. If not they should, difficult as it may be, his work depicts a history that is uncomfortable and, like my adopted nation, still a work in progress.
With powerful and sustained cast performances, sets so incredible that I so want to photograph them as backdrops, it not only blazes to life in the Huntington Theater's production, but drives deep into the emotional core.
At times during the performance I felt deeply ashamed, none less so than when the Invisible Man speaks directly to the audience, fully exposed under house lights. Perhaps it's the fading echoes from the sins of our fathers, for surely all of our ancestors have acted themselves at some point in history in ways that  we today  regard as misguided.
I wish I could have slowed down some of the scenes, replayed them as with a book or a DVD, to grasp more fully the eloquence of both words and actions.
The final line from the Invisible Man rings as true today as it did then,

“Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?” 

Theater at its best and equal to any I have seen in London or New York.

Tapes and Gatesgate -not.

Recently released tapes of a 911 call to Cambridge police identifying a possible crime in progress are surprisingly innocuous. No racial profiles or slurs, deleted expletives, or over dramatization. Simply a female caller, expressing her concern and uncertainty. So why does the story continue to have legs?

We could point the finger at Professor Gates and Officer Crowley or President Obama and Governor Deval Patrick and everyone else who hitched their wagon to this particular sideshow caravan. We all know the lingering discomfort of being in the wrong and failing to admit it, whether at home, at work in a car or on the street. We also know the feeling of panic from being in the wrong place at the wrong time or the right pace with the wrong people around us, whatever our race or background.

First as a visitor, then work visa holder, legal resident alien and now US citizen I am deferential to the police when they ask to see my identification. I can not be certain, but I think this would be as true in my home as it has been when outside. As the scorpion who stung the frog carrying it across the pond said when asked 'why?' "it's in my nature". It's who I am, just as those involved at all levels are who they are.

It will take more than a beer and a White House photo opportunity to resolve the underlying issues of acceptance, tolerance and respect that exist in all countries and for all nationalities, races and religions, but the ones that triggered this media firestorm - they're no Gatesgate.

Lincoln Minute Men Muster

It's not every day that I get to interview figures from the eighteenth century and write about it from my perspective for publication.

Captain William Smith, woken at 2 a.m by Mary Hartwell, herself roused by Dr. Prescott after the capture of Paul Revere rides into the center of Lincoln to muster the militia.

The story as printed in the Lincoln Journal.

It is the time of year, with winter exhausted and taxes filed, when colonial militiamen recreating events from 1775, chase weary and outnumbered British soldiers back to Boston
Read more...

Space invader - living in a world of your own

Sometimes words fail me, which for a writer is a wee problem. It happened the other day at a fife and drum concert in Lincoln, ostensibly a celebratory occasion in Pierce Park when marching bands play music from the revolutionary days.

Now you have to imagine a very large an empty field, with people scattered about and a smaller roped off arena where the bands play. Some people bring low-slung chairs, others, like us, spread out on blankets.

We left a respectable gap between the arena rope and our blanket, into which wandered a party of four, two women, one man and a younger girl. One of the women carried a garish blue and green umbrella that she must have got for free judging by the logos adorning its sides. It wasn't raining, nor did it appear likely. No this monstrosity was a sunshade (in April) and shielded the woman, and could have kept the suns warming rays of everyone in the party. Rays that would have meant she might have been able to remove the fleece blanket-like jacket she wore.

As she made herself comfortable a few feet in front of me I asked politely, or so I thought, if she intended to use the sunshade once the bands started to play.

"Aren't you high enough to see over it?" she asked without making eye contact, although that would have been difficult through her sunglasses.

"Well no, not really and I think it's a bit rude," I said.

What I wanted to say was, "Is this how your mother taught you? I this any example you set your daughter, to push in front, to have no regard for anyone else, to carry such an obnoxious glaring piece of Chinese produced crap and place it right in front of me," but she had already turned away, obscured behind the umbrella.

It occurred to me that perhaps the woman was unwell, perhaps a cancer survivor or undergoing treatment. I demurred and moved away, but it seemed that every angle, every photograph featured the umbrella. I have no way of knowing if she was ill or just ill mannered, but it added a sour note to an otherwise excellent musical event.

Eventful Patriots Day

Compared to last years rain soaked weekend this one was sublimely tropical. Somethings don't change though. like the bright colors, loud noises, enthusiasm of re-enactors and beer and chilli afterwards.

For those that couldn't make it, enjoy the show.

A weekend of two halves

We spent all day Saturday doing our civic duty, voting to spend taxpayers money at the Lincoln Town Meeting. And yes, I did stand up twice to ask questions and make a point, although I left the hat at home.

Highlight was the adoption of a warrant article to reduce the use of fossil based fuels in new construction and major renovation of town owned buildings (including residential) by 50 percent by next year (2008) and to eliminate its use completely by 2030 - a very aggressive schedule. The town is following the lead of the Architecture Challenge 2030 initiative.

The warrant is particularly relevant given the Lincoln Public Schools K-8 identified the need to spend between $33 million and $65 million on rehabilitation or rebuilding over the next 10 years and the town's green environment committee identifies these public building as the least energy efficient in the town.

It was also good news for people who like to speed through Lincoln as they make a rat run around 128 bottlenecks in their dash to Routes 2 and 2A. The town voted to spend $5.5 million dollars over three years fixing its notorious - some would say quintessentially Lincolnesque - potholes.
Sorry everyone, the work will not start until after next winter's pothole season.

So if Saturday involved sitting in the dimly lit Brooks Auditorium for a little over nine hours, albeit for me for the first time in the "comfy seats" rather than steel chairs set out for non-voters, then Middlesex Fells once again provided an antidote of blue sky, bright sunshine and croaking of tree frogs in place of, at times, the long winded carping of residents.

We met up with AMC friends for a more leisurely walk of the Skyline Trail which afford the opportunity to spot and handle a garter snake, listen to freshly minted tree frogs and see numerous birds, including red tailed hawks and a great blue heron swooping overhead.

Sadly the Osprey Aether backpack was missing from this trip. It's on back-order - one of the many other signs of spring.

Getting out the immigrant vote

According to a report in today’s Boston Globe, applications for citizenship in Boston are up 71 percent from a year ago.

Increased fees, up from $400 to $675, concern that immigrants legally in the country may get caught up in changes to the law affecting those here illegally and a desire to vote in the 2008 elections are cited as part of a perfect storm.

An unstated concern may be that the Patriot’s Act of 2001 denies habeas corpus to legal resident aliens.

The net result is increased processing time up from the seven months currently quoted to an unspecified duration.

Even before the fee increase, announced in February 2007 and put in place in July the same year, I waited more than eight months for an interview. Add another month’s wait for the oath ceremony and the lead-time was at least nine months, and that was before the number of work visas that the Department of Immigration and Naturalization Services also process increased by 800,000 this year.

That’s not the end of the story, either.

Without an alien registration card, more commonly know as a green card, it is impossible to travel outside the country unless you have a passport. During the swearing in ceremony, immigration officials exchange the green card for a naturalization certificate. To obtain a passport the original certificate has to be sent in for processing.

The wait time for a passport recently was as high as three months, unless additional payment was made for expediting. The increased wait time was due to changes that require a passport for travel between the US to Canada or Mexico, instead of other government issued ID.

Speaking of ID, not only is the wait time long, but during that time, the now naturalized citizen retains no evidence that they are a citizen or have any right to be in the country or is able to travel, say for a family emergency, outside of the country. Habeas what my newly minted Patriotic friend?

So is the current 12 months too long to wait for the privilege of being a fully documented US citizen?

Of course not.

But don’t forget that the majority of immigrants wait at least five years from when they receive a green card and may wait longer than the 14 months I did for my green card, whilst in my case, here on a three-year work visa.

It’s an arduous, expensive, time consuming and often confusing process. So if you’re newly arrived, legally that is, you should start getting to know the candidates and planning to vote in the presidential election.

The one that’s due up in 2016, that is.