TVWSP

The Reluctant Quester "Patchkies Around"

Since only a few people living in Brooklyn and Tel Aviv are going to know what "patchkies around" means, I went  back to Google and found that the Wikipedia of Yiddish expressions has not been done yet…or at least I could not find it.

You’re not going to believe this…but I found the Gantseh Megillah (the whole thing) at http://www.pass.to/glossary/Default.htm and the logo was a DOG!!! A dog with a yarmika…a basset hound with a yarmika!!! Geeesh…my life has become rotten with dogs.

So “patchkies around” turns out to have been anglicized, which I guess means that even Anglicans use the expression???  Must have been an inter-marriage thing… Ok so it means someone who messes around.

And, oh yes, the Reluctant Quester has a reputation for messing around, being messed up, making a mess, etc.

Now "patchka" is often related to food - messing around with food - get it? So on Sunday nights, when our family religiously went out for Chinese food, my sister and I would "patchka" with the sweet and sour sauces, the mustard, the duck sauce, the sugar, and the salt to make one of our famous mixtures…daring each other to taste what certainly had become a poisonous concoction.

All of which is a round about way of telling you that I liked to patchka, and in the 4th grade decided to go professional.  I made my parents buy me a chemistry set, but there was only one problem.  Mixing sauces in a Chinese restaurant was a freelance activity done by instinct and inspiration.  The chemistry set was serious business, and serious means that it had a book describing the experiments you could do with the set of little bottles, beakers, and test tubes in the kit.  There were also instructions and warnings printed in RED block letters.  Instructions and warnings I still could not read.

Until that moment I hadn't connected the dots.  Clearly reading was a basic requirement for learning to patchka professionally.  Scientists can read…duh!

Scared to death, I called my father to come help me.  Yikes…not a smart move on my part.  I think he was in denial about me not being able to read!!!   He proceeded to tell me all about how he had been at the top of his class - the first student sitting in the first seat right in front of the teacher - blah blah blah.  I had made him buy me a chemistry set but I could not read?!   I wanted help?!  Not on his watch!

"You want a chemistry set?" he said,  "Then start paying attention in school and learn how to read and I will buy you a chemistry set."  He meticulously put everything back into the box, closed it, and immediately left to return it to the store.

Well, I lost interest in making mixtures in the Chinese restaurant, and the world probably lost a brilliant scientist.  But the "Stupid" label I'd been wearing over my head was becoming tattooed in indelible ink, and the needles hurt like hell.

The Reluctant Quester: Grade Four

Sitting at a brown wooden desk that was bolted to the floor, in front of me was the Metropolitan Reading Test…my first run-in with a standardized test. Today, more than 50 years later, they are into the 8th edition of what are now called, "The Metropolitan Achievement Tests…"  For me, these have always measured….ah…under-achievement. Likely the same test…just a different classroom. Now the desks are no longer bolted to the floor.  

Staring at the front page of the booklet - holding my #2 pencil in my right hand and alternating my gaze back and forth from the booklet to the empty oval circles on the answer sheet - my eyes started to water and burn. While I fought to hold back tears, Mrs Himber (a short, stocky woman with a bun - an archetypal elementary school teacher) stands next to my desk.  When she saw that I was crying, she asked me to accompany her out into the hall. 

First, she informed me that this was absolutely against test rules, god, country and the board of education.  We had, after all, been warned that we would not be permitted to go the bathroom or leave our seats for any reason.  Then she sternly asked me why I was disrupting the class by crying. "I have never seen such behavior from a fourth grade BOY!!!" she said sternly.

Choking the words out,  I told her that I could not read the instructions - that I knew she'd said there were sample questions, but I could not read them either.  She was shocked and incredulous. She told me that she had never had anyone in HER fourth grade class who could not read even the sample questions.  She looked to see how I might be tricking her and/or trying to get out of taking the test, which she insisted every fourth grader in every school in all the New York boroughs was taking precisely at the same time.  I'm sure that, much like me, they had been told to stay in their seats, and that their feet were to remain bolted to the floor.  Mrs. Himber made it clear that she had already made a big concession bringing me out into the hall, and was not going to stand for any more nonsense.  She told me I should get back into my seat and take the test like everyone else.  Actually, everyone else wasn't taking the test.  Everyone was staring out the door listening to our conversation and snickering.  Fortunately, she did not pull my ear or shake me….

Several weeks later, Mrs. Himber decided to break the rules again.  She brought me up to her desk with the test scores in front of her, pointed to my name at the very end of the list that included the results of all five boroughs (and perhaps all of humanity) and informed me that the only thing I got credit for was that I wrote my name at the top of the page. 

Mrs. Himber was clearly stunned.  I think she still half believed that this was some scheme on my part to get out of work.  Eventually, however, after consulting with the principle and the guidance counselor, she decided to take the very unusual step of having the very best reader in our class ...Gail Goldberg…."help" me learn to read.  

Soon first grade primers were delivered to our class, and each day Gail would read to me about a girl named Jane and Spot the dog.  Needless to say I left the fourth grade as I had left the third - completely illiterate.

The Reluctant Quester Considers Dr. Cice

Okay, I get Max. I have heard of Guide Dogs for the blind.... but a therapy dog?!! And who said I needed one…Jenaia?
 
And what an attitude on this dog! Ok I will allow that she seems kind...even affectionate. But Humpback whales are more evolved than humans…oh excuse me…Homo sapiens? ...Okay maybe I did not learn to read until the fifth grade, but eventually I did, and I don't think I have read anywhere that whales can read - or dogs for that matter.
 
Cicerone or Cice - as she likes to be called - picks me.  Why?  Ha ha! Maybe I am supposed to call her Doctor Cice.  I never even saw myself as a dog person until I met Max. And yes Max is well trained, but he is still just a dog! Cice claiming to be a therapist takes it a bit far.
 
What the hell is a therapy dog anyway? Is there even really such a thing? First Google then Wikipedia: A therapy dog is a dog trained to provide affection and comfort to people in hospitals, retirement homes, nursing homes, schools, with people with learning difficulties and stressful situations such as disaster areas.
 
I am not in a hospital or a retirement/nursing home…way past my school days (thank god) but certainly stressed, and as I already admitted, have struggled with serious learning difficulties my entire life.  And yes Dr. Cice, it has led to self-esteem issues, and dare I say…"insecurities" about how smart I am.  The former class clown, jumping in and out of his seat, has offered up humor and a lot of moving around/tap dancing as a cover for the "stupid" label he wore for most of his days in the New York public schools…
 
Mmmm…I will have to think about this. I am going to pet a dog, who will then lick my hand, pant, and wag her tail when I come into a room, and that will make the Reluctant Quester less reluctant…less tentative…more sure of himself and a bonafide Life Quester who learns to love learning…and even writing…this I will have to see to believe…

Cice Sets Up a Meeting

Cicerone here.  Just a quick note to report that an official introduction to the Reluctant Quester (RQ) has been arranged by our mutual friend Jenaia Morane.  Jenaia is the inventor of these “Quests” that RQ is so fond of investigating and what I call a “free spirit.”  Free in that she relates to almost any life form - felines, canines, cetaceans, and equines – as equals with a mixture of amusement and appreciation I find quite appealing. 

 

Why she chose to incarnate as a human being in this lifetime is a mystery to me.  I’ve concluded that her humanity is either a sign she is highly evolved or has a screw loose.  At any rate, I will reserve judgment for now as she has been kind to me and knows just the right places to scratch behind my ears.

 

Jenaia and I became friends while volunteering to help disabled residents adapt to Second Life.  It was Jenaia who designed the “Vision Quest” on which RQ and Max met.  When she learned that Max had referred him to me she sought me out and offered a word of advice.  “Be sure to do your homework on this one Cice,” she said.  “I’ve spoken to him several times and have been following his blog.”

 

“Oh?” I panted, cocking my head and lifting my ears to indicate curiosity.

 

“He hasn’t had an easy life, but I think you’ll get along just fine once he rethinks his definition of a dog.”

 

“One of those is he?” I sniffed.

 

“Oh don’t be a grump, “ she replied ruffling my ruff and stroking my head.  “You know you love a challenge.”

 

At any rate, Jenaia arranged for us to meet at her sky garden.  It’s a quiet, shady, private place with lots of grass and trees. I am tentatively optimistic about meeting RQ, though first encounters with human beings are always awkward. The logical, time-honored thing to do would be to sniff one another’s behinds. There is no faster or more definitive way to get information about another creature, but of course humans eschew anything so easy and obvious.  Most are ashamed of their bodies and do their best to cover body odors with chemical sprays, lotions, and soaps.  These not only mask the most important information to be gleaned from a good hard sniff, but make me sneeze as well.

 

This brings me back to my point about humans being smell challenged. They attempt to compensate for this deficiency through vision - peering with alarming length and intensity into one another’s eyes as if seeking the secrets of the universe.  To a canine of course this is rather alarming and easily interpreted as a sign of aggression.  I have had to work hard to overcome my own distaste for this peculiar habit.

 

The other peculiar habit humans have is that rather than sniff they clasp paws and pump their forelegs up and down.  The significance of this eludes me.  At first I thought some form of information was being exchanged, but Jenaia tells me it is usually just a formality – a way to show good will.  She hastened to add, however, that some take the opportunity to squeeze the other’s paw much too tightly, thereby inflicting pain.  This is done to let other human know who is the stronger of the two.  Once again, I am lost.  How can starting a new relationship out in pain create good will and mutual respect?

 

Personally, if I can’t sniff I would prefer to lick.  Licking is soothing and stimulates the production of endorphins.  There are few things I enjoy more than a thorough lick by a friend, but Jenaia cautioned me about this as well.  She even had the audacity to suggest that I offer to shake paws.  That’s a cheap parlor trick and I refuse to stoop to it.

 

If the Reluctant Quester can’t meet me halfway, and at least allow me to sniff his hand and lick his face, then our relationship is doomed from the start. I have said as much to Jenaia who has promised to speak to RQ before she introduces us.  I have great confidence in her.  She let’s me lick her cheek as often as I like.

 

I am off to do some research about this Reluctant Quester before our meeting, but will report back soon. … 

The Reluctant Quester and Self-Esteen

Teleporting forward to my late teens and in therapy - no longer illiterate but neurotic as hell - I start to see that my "School days, school days …Dear old golden rule days" have left me somewhat scarred.  Although I finally start to get passing grades, and am even considering college, the monkey remains on my back. Yep, stupid all right. I may be fooling some people, but I know the truth - stupid. 

The young "Reluctant Quester" is still funny, makes jokes in class that even the teacher laughs at, is entertaining and has friends, but always feels different, apart, and oddly alone.  

So this is 40 years ago.  I am talking to my therapist.  I tell him that I feel stupid and alone.  It was the deal we made - I would tell him the truth and he would listen and sometimes tell me stories. I think it was parable therapy…lol. 

On this particular day, he told me about being in Central Park in New York City.  There, he saw an old man walking with a small (though gigantic by today's iPod standards ) portable transistor radio on his shoulder held right up against his ear.  

"Miracle of miracles," my therapist said, "no one would ever have to be alone again.  Technology would bring them music, the news, interviews, and commentary."  The man with the radio sat on a park bench, put the radio next to him, and blasted it.  He had no ear phones, and he was obviously a little deaf. 

It was New York after all, and here is what I imagine happened next.  There were some street/gang kids hanging around nearby, and their eyes lit up when they saw that radio.  They all got the same idea at once.  Fortunately it was not to steal the radio, but to buy or steal a bigger one - a much bigger one - and blast it while they walked down the street, rode the subways, or shopped in supermarkets.  Yeah, really loud,  and yes the "Boom Box" was born.  

Technology facilitated community - first simple company for the old man, but then music to dance by, harass others with, or use as a weapon.  

Second Life (i.e. technology) facilitates community.  It levels the playing field.  Yes griefers can use it as a weapon, but it is so much more - a place where communities of interest and communities of practice can form. It is global, inclusive, diverse, and anyone can play. The blind and the beautiful… 

Here in Second Life, the Reluctant Quester can write (and incidentally read) not just words but see the pictures, hear the music, and for the first time learn to tell his story.  Every day I take the bogeyman out of the closet, stare him down, and use SL technology to feed my imagination and find my own narrative thread - a story you will be able to follow here on The Virtual Worlds Story Project Blog… 

 

Cice Finds Her Calling

Any well-bred and properly raised canine knows you have to cut Homo sapiens a little slack.  First of all, they stand upright, which raises their blood pressure and all but insures there won’t be enough oxygen going to their brains.

 

Then there is the whole business of what they do with their brains.  Can you imagine having to analyze your motives before you so much as scratch a flea? And why are they so convinced their brainpower is a sign of higher evolution?  As far as I can tell, they’ve made a mess of things – overpopulating and polluting the planet right and left.

 

The real geniuses are the Humpback whales.  They have no money to make, no jobs to find, no homes to maintain.   Nor do they require an owner to provide food, shelter or daily walks.  Instead, they spend their winters feasting on krill and their summers singing songs, birthing calves, and making love in Hawaii. Now that’s evolved!

 

Actually, I have a theory about humans and their brains.  I think their obsession with mental gymnastics is a form of compensation for having lost most of their fur and ability to smell. Who wouldn’t feel slightly ridiculous running around without hair or a proper sniffer?

 

But I have forgotten my manners!  In my haste to share my insights I failed to introduce myself.  My name is Cicerone Destiny (aka Cice) - a black and tan Border collie with attitude. By disposition and training I am a therapy dog who specializes in lovesick humans. By lovesick I am not referring to romantic liaisons that have gone awry, but something much deeper and disturbing.  It seems, you see, that in addition to losing their fur and sense of smell, many human beings have forgotten unconditional love. This is not only tragic, but makes it difficult for them to tap and express their dreams – those little sparks of spirit that make each of them unique.

 

As you can see, this is a sad state of affairs, and I am committed to changing it.  I'm always on the lookout for humans I can assist, and it seems I may have found my latest challenge in the Reluctant Quester.  Actually, it was a German Shepherd named Max who pointed him out to me. Apparently this Quester fellow is funny and smart, has great taste in food, but has doubts about his self-worth.  We shall see what I can do to remedy the situation.  Of course a lot depends on whether he’s willing to spring for good dog biscuits. At any rate, this concludes my first report from the field.  I shall continue once I've had a chance to sniff the Quester's credentials and see if he is open to a partnership.

                                                                              - Cicerone Destiny

The Reluctant Quester Fesses Up

Time to fess up... I have been hinting at it. The Reluctant Quester, as you already know, is phobic about having to write ... In my last post you found out that I could not stay in my seat...that I whispered to my neighbor.  What were my choices?  Hello!  If I could write, I would have passed her a note.

Yes her...I was and remain a terrible flirt and show off.  I was the class clown and always in trouble.

So one day I came home from third grade with a very swollen and very red ear. 

Mother was not happy...thinks bully.   I said no, it was the teacher. Now mother was really not happy and wanted to go to school and talk to my teacher. Now I wasn't happy. The ear hurt, but if she talked to my teacher my father would kill me. 

Of course the next day my mother marched me into the classroom.  Every kid was staring at me with expectant, eager faces.  They knew that this would be good and were hungry for blood. 

Rather than looking scared, my teacher looked desperate - her eyes pleading.  Sadly it wasn't for forgiveness, but for help. She was beside herself, frustrated, defeated. 

She told my mother that she didn't not know what to do with me. I wouldn't listen, wouldn't sit in my seat, and that I never shut up - never stopped until and unless she grabbed me out of my seat and pulled me around the room by my ear.  Ouch! 

My mother got this look of recognition on her face. The teacher looked at my mother, then at me, and shook me so hard that I almost fell down while the entire class laughed hysterically. 

Luckily, I got out of there without a detached retina.  Somehow I managed to survive the third grade without going deaf and blind, but I remained illiterate. 

Actually today it would have been worse.  No one would touch me, just medicate me, drug me into submission. Simple and painless. No damage to the senses.  Meds just dull them so you won't whisper to your neighbor or jump out of your seat.  Corporal punishment replaced by modern medicine - progress.

The Reluctant Quester Wonders....

Is It Real or is It Memorex???

 

Ok…so lately I have been obsessing about Second Life…what else is new?  I am long past thinking of it as a game. No, definitely not a game, although it's ironic how both hard core gamers and non-believers need to insist it is a game.

 

Griefers above all have to think it is game, that what they do is not really anti-social, hostile or even hateful…it is fun…it is a game.  Those poor naïve gamers, celebrating Helen Keller's birthday…commemorating the launch of a virtual guide dog.  What fun…throw some penises and naked bodies at those somber folks and let's watch them freak out...wow...be offended. If we are lucky they'll get angry and shout obscenities just as we go poof and disappear back into the metaverse to plan an attack on the Holocaust Museum.

 

Yes you got me throwing stones. Griefers are an easy target, but you don't have to be a griefer to think Second Life is a game. You can be a college administrator, superintendent of schools, principle, teacher or a professor. It is play…it is fun…and those are really evil…practically devil worship…the avatar as icon…worse an idol…soulless…Godless…the Anti-Christ!!!

 

Education is serious work…hard work…really hard work!  I heard that over an over again as I jumped in and out of my seat in school, whispered to my neighbour, and made fart noises.  Get used to hard work, used to being bored and uninterested. "Do you think I enjoy my job? You do it because you have to, and you young man have to go to school!!!"

 

See school was real…serious stuff like work. Watching TV, going to the movies…even reading was fun…not serious…not real…it was fantasy and make believe…or even worse escapism.

 

Content was everything.  Context was the surround and irrelevant. Learn the content, I was told.  Memorize it…use flash cards…pots of coffee…NoDoz…cold showers….then test yourself…get your mother to test you…your father, friends, strangers on the subway on your way to the exam, and then spit it all back.  Get high grades…700 +++ on the SAT's and then go to Harvard…Yea victory!!!...Make a lot of money and buy a Porsche, Ferrari or settle for a Cadillac.  Now that was fun!!!

 

Ok…I am avoiding the issue. That stuff is all too easy.  We are the initiated. We believe in project based learning - engagement, fun and even play. Use the game of Second Life or other virtual worlds to teach, create context, meaning, engagement, and ah maybe even the wilful suspension of disbelief.  Second Life as a play, theatre, a movie or a TV show where we are the actors, directors, writers and producers playing roles, performing.

 

Questing about and admittedly more than a little weird, I have decided that Second Life is real - an extension of my physical reality. There were blogs , e-mails, bulletin board posts that I signed with my Real Life name followed by my Second Life name. Then I moved closer to the truth and started signing with my First Life name and then my Second Life name.

 

Linden Lab is promising that we will soon be able to use our "real" names or not…as we choose. I like the progression, and will use my "real" name and gladly give up Mr. Snowpaw, which sounded Native American; not the name of a "real" Jewish boy born in Brooklyn. 

                                                       - Marty Snowpaw

The Reluctant Quester: Part VI

Barely averted disaster at the grand opening of Karuna's Café Ristretto.  Between IM's notecards, Flickr, FaceBook, Linked In and so forth, you would expect communication to be flawless, precise, or at least redundant. Duh!
 
So using all the tools of social networking known to man, woman, and Tinys, I promote, hype, tout, hawk, and hock people to come to the Café Ristretto opening for a live performance by Juel Resistance.  This was to be an inaugral event - the first in a new series of coffee house concerts being presented on  Karuna (if you don't know, ask: National Library of Medicine funded HIV/AIDS island in Second Life).
 
Disaster strikes when I find out there has been a mix-up with the time and date!!!  The concert promoted to happen in just three hours is on Juel's  calendar for the following day!!!!
 
First through yelling and screaming (which is never effective or pretty), then through begging and pleading (also not pretty), I persuade the gracious and professional Juel to adjust her schedule so she can perform as planned and (ugh) promoted. Woot!!
 
And what a performance it was!  Juel was a big success, playing to a packed house that generously contributed Lindens to Karuna. When Juel was done, they stayed and kept dancing into the night to the tunes of DJ Otowan Fouget.
 

I hope to see you at the next concert at 6:00 pm SLT on Wednesday, July 15th. when we will dance to songs sung by Songstra.  Need a limo?  IM Jenaia Morane or Marty Snowpaw, or simply take the SLURL below:

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Karuna/33/213/29 

                                                  - Marty Snowpaw

Barely averted disaster at the grand opening of Karuna's Café Ristretto.  Between IM's notecards, Flickr, FaceBook, Linked In and so forth, you would expect communication to be flawless, precise, or at least redundant. Duh!
 
So using all the tools of social networking known to man, woman, and Tinys, I promote, hype, tout, hawk, and hock people to come to the Café Ristretto opening for a live performance by Juel Resistance.  This was to be an inaugral event - the first in a new series of coffee house concerts being presented on  Karuna (if you don't know, ask: National Library of Medicine funded HIV/AIDS island in Second Life).
 
Disaster strikes when I find out there has been a mix-up with the time and date!!!  The concert promoted to happen in just three hours is on Juel's  calendar for the following day!!!!
 
First through yelling and screaming (which is never effective or pretty), then through begging and pleading (also not pretty), I persuade the gracious and professional Juel to adjust her schedule so she can perform as planned and (ugh) promoted. Woot!!
 
And what a performance it was!  Juel was a big success, playing to a packed house that generously contributed Lindens to Karuna. When Juel was done, they stayed and kept dancing into the night to the tunes of DJ Otowan Fouget.
 

I hope to see you at the next concert at 6:00 pm SLT on Wednesday, July 15th. when we will dance to songs sung by Songstra.  Need a limo?  IM Jenaia Morane or Marty Snowpaw, or simply take the SLURL below:

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Karuna/33/213/29 

                                                  - Marty Snowpaw

A Vision for the Vision Quest

Well the Vision Quest is officially over, meaning the contest ended and the awards were given out.  However, the Quest itself has found a permanent home on Story Quest Island and there continue to be a large number of folks coming through to give the concept a try.  Most notable has been a class of 20 educators led by Miss Annie Ducatillon who came, listened to Marty and I talk about Questing, asked questions, and now are working on their own stories.

Then today I logged into my email account to find that the BBC podcast is out with the interview featuring myself and Jolie in which we chatted about what it means to be blind in a virtual world and how Max is making a difference.  You can hear the results at the link below.    - Jenaia Morane

http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/podsandblogs/