in search of identity

Dreams from My Father

by Barack Obama

I picked up the book because a review article on WSJ commented on its good writing. I had had little interest in Obama's politic views and found his speech, which seemed to inspire just about everyone else in my vincity, rather boring and empty - this was still true when I watched him again the other night addressing the congress. Well.

However, I was totally absorbed into his stories, an almost nonchalant account of someone searching and defining his ancestral identity exclusively from his father's line. From there, I was also taken to the traumatic journey Africans have experienced (or been driven to) in the past hundreds of years. It is sadness, humiliation, desperation, confusion, anger, even hatred combined. And simple - forever seemingly - disorientation or dislocation for a people. Individualism, which I myself identify with, is rather powerless against such tantalizing tragedy of human life - I have to admit.

Of interest to me was also his experiences as a "community organizer". I remember I was mildly offended by the constant scorn against such a career during the presidential campaign, but had no idea what it was about. Well, it was part of his personal search for those of his own, and a mostly futile effort to mobilize people for some common causes that are evidently important but lacking in glory. I know better now with my own share of such endeavor.

As a geneticist, it's also quite curious how he seemed to have no desire in defining himself as a "hybrid". He saw and thought of himself as black.

All in all, a very good book.

221b - reading Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

(comments later. now this cute little poem; Sherlock Holmes (R) and Dr. Watson (L), drawn by Sidney Paget)

221b

by Vincent Starrett

here dwell together still two men of note
who never lived and so can never die:
how very near they seem, yet how remote
that age before the world went all awry...
here, though the world explod, these two
survive, and it is always enghteen ninety-five.

and how can one not love these two dudes, their singular (an often used word in the stories) friendship, their most absurd adventures and their all eccentric neighbors in the great city of London. what fun. :-)

Writing poem

Writing poem

by the little one

My mom wants me to write a poem,
So I'm going to write some,
even though I'd rather not,
but if I don't, my mom will get hot.

Now what should my poem be about,
The ideas in my mind are a drought,
I have no ideas, and I'm writng a poem,
My family's working hard, I guess I owe 'em.

Still in a block, I'm bored out of my mind,
Where's the inspiration I need to find?
Maybe a poem about my boredom?
That wouldn't be appealing to my mum.--------->mum is mom)

An idea finally sprang up in my mind
a unique poem, one of its kind!
A poem about writing a poem!
I'm writing so quickly, my hands are going numb.

I'm finally done,that was really fun!
You want to read that poem, made by a kid?
Guess what? You just did.