Marshal McDonald

06/25/2024 by Pat Shiplett 3 Comments

The monastic mornings of one Marshal McDonald.

Marshal spends his hours at the coffee shop in the company of some of the most provocative and mischievous thinkers in and out of print. He seems to more than hold his own among them.

Here’s what he’s exploring via his latest reading list (take a deep breath):

Magister Ludi, Hermann Hesse
Perennial Philosophy, Aldous Huxley
The Square and the Tower, Niall Ferguson
Hu Hua Ching, Lao Tzu
Metapatterns, Tyler Volk
Sensing Semiosis, Floyd Merrell
Against the Tide, Roger Scruton
Call of the Tribe, Mario Varga Llosa
Porius, John Cowper Powys,
Accent on Form, L.L. Whyte
Entering Stillness, Lousi Komjathy
Consciousness and Culture, Jean Gebser
Essays by Garry Wills.
A bio of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

There’s method to Marshal’s madness. He pans for ideas, reading a chapter or two of one author and relating each to next. He maintains notes religiously and uses the word “tinkering” to help explain what he’s doing.

There is invariably a pile of books at the ready in front of him.

He’s been exploring language and linguistics, semantics and semiosis, history of religions, quantum physics and nanoscale structures, cell biology, molecular physics, human evolution, Jungian psychology, Taoism, hierarchy theory, evolution of consciousness and the psychology of mathematics/symbolism.

“In former times I read so that I could win arguments and persuade people to my point of view,” he admits. But now he wades into dense, intellectual concepts as an end in itself.

It’s taken years of brief hellos to get to know Marshal. There isn’t the slightest trace of scholarly pretense about the man.

He speaks with a disarming back-home drawl, knows how to work with his hands, and has served two enlistments as a member of the United States Navy Band. He may be the only person at our coffee shop who’s achieved the elusive Double C on the trumpet.

Fathers Day 2024

06/08/2024 by Pat Shiplett 5 Comments

What would you say is the most important thing that your father taught you?“…my father was pretty quiet and led by good example.” — Nancy Myers

“…charity.” — Jenny Hagar

“…when I was trying to make an important decision my father would ask me questions that would help me.”– Ted Buenger

“…I could never do justice in describing all the things my father taught me.” — Edna Grad

“…my father taught me was to look both ways before crossing the street – that saved my life in London years later.”

“…the most important thing my father taught me is to reject a bent board.” — Norm Ewald

“…my father taught me how to ‘tinker.’ To be vigilant and to tease things apart. When you know how to tinker you can solve any problem whether it’s writing a good essay, trying to find where there is a shared neutral wire or how to achieve the elusive Double C on the trumpet. — Marshal MacDonald

“…never give up.” — Scott Pemberton

“…I’ve never forgotten my dad’s four-word sex advice, which I’ve used to advantage in other contexts, too: “Don’t do anything stupid.” — Greg Taubeneck

“…resolve your problems, find a solution, the problem will be solved; and I’ll have your back.” — Will Butzlaff

“…coming from a family of immigrants, my father played football to escape from having to work in the coal mines. For him, everything was a struggle. As his daughter, I learned (or just inherited) a certain fierceness and determination.” — Anna Nardo

“…distilling it all down, the most memorable message I got from my father is, ‘Stand up for yourself. Don’t let anybody push you around.’” — Jim Thompson

“…while academic success eluded him, my father was blessed with a wickedly good sense of humor. He had a special talent to make everyone around him laugh with him. The best lesson that we learned from our fathers? The answer for me was immediately obvious – a sense of humor.”  — Kevin Evanich

“…I learned about speaking with children like they’re people and being honest with them.”

“…my dad taught me people are almost always focused on their own lives. They are not thinking about YOU or anything you may have done to offend them. It’s best to reserve judgement when you feel slighted or neglected…they are in their own reality and are not trying to attack you!” – Paul Rathburn

“…he told my sisters and me to keep moving. He was talking about physical health and well being, that the only way to mitigate some of the inevitable age-related declines was to use your muscles consistently and as best you could. – Sherri Smith

“…my father was a really kind and gentle guy. When we became adults (speaking for my 4 siblings as well), he was our best friend. He passed too soon at 68, and I think of him almost every day.” – Brian Brady

“…the most important thing my father taught me was the importance of sports. He literally taught me how to play baseball, basketball and golf.” – Ron Condon

“…my father’s teaching was ordinarily more example than dictation. A man told me about the time he and my father were members of the same Loop insurance agency. A significant, very lucrative piece of business came my father’s way. However, the opportunity had questionable aspects. ‘Your dad turned it down flat,’ the man said.” – Tom Figel

“……he was a Chicken Delight franchisee, and when the parent company went bankrupt, he lost everything. Many of his fellow franchisees declared bankruptcy. Not my Dad. Call him a sucker, but he sacrificed (and so did we) so he could pay back everything he owed. After that, my smart, cerebral Dad took a series of menial jobs to pay the bills. Because ‘no work is beneath you if it pays the bills.’ I was so proud of him.” – Chris Haxagar

“…I have fond memories of when my Dad taught me to sing and play “Tiny Bubbles” by Don Ho on the ukelele. I was no more than 6 or 7. Funny thing, my son never met him but he also enjoys playing the ukelele. I still have  Dad’s uke!” – Janet Trierweiler

“…quit trying to have the last word!” – Mary Heneby Read more…

Mexico City

04/09/2024 by Pat Shiplett 2 Comments

It’s no wonder the Colombian family found itself hunkered down on the curb of Avenida Centenario.

After all Spanish speakers like the Ortizes don’t describe things as happening “sooner or later.” They say exactly the opposite, that things happen “later or sooner.”

The Ortizes seemed content enough waiting an extra thirty or more minutes to climb back onto the hop-on, hop-off bus tour that promised to circulate every twenty minutes.

It was not just the distortion of time they experienced that day, the locations of “must-see” attractions were elastic as well.

The Museo de Frida Kahlo, for example, magically occupied two different locations on the tour map at the same time. Even the museum’s ticket taker was baffled. “Looks like a long walk from here” he explained, as he turned away the Ortizes who hadn’t reserved tickets in advance.

The Colombians walked back to the bus stop alongside a disappointed older couple from the U.S. who had made the same mistake.

The younger Ortiz, Elioct, seizing the opportunity to speak English, introduced each member of his family by name. The American, determined to use the language he studied, responded in his fingernails-on-the-chalkboard Spanish and as if by magic, a third language was created on fly.

They all hopped back onto the double decker, dodging decapitation by flowering Jacarandas and power cables. Back at the
Cibeles Fountain they exchanged URLs and email addresses.

Phenomena that happen routinely here in Coyoacán and neighboring barrios border on magic.

Guardian angels appear out of nowhere when visitors like the Ortizes are lost or locked out. Locals stop to help tourists like the Americans place phone calls when Verizon fucks them over.

And miracle of all miracles, serviceable WIFI is provided free to anyone strolling the streets and plazas of North America’s largest city.

Selling the house

12/12/2023 by Pat Shiplett 2 Comments

They sold a piece of themselves to the highest bidder.

Owning a house to raise children was especially important for the woman who never lived in one, and had grown up among six people in a 700 sq. ft. flat. The place was her baby.

The center-entrance colonial they bought all those years ago had had a series of owners and renters so the couple left it vacant through several months to make it over as their own.

They opened spaces and raised ceilings. The side yard was awarded a patio with a picket fence. A concrete porch was planked and painted. Even after all that, a neighbor referred to it as the “starter home” around the corner.

After the children ventured out on their own, the couple slowly lost interest in meeting the never-ending demands of a century old home. The retreat where they shared the family’s victories and nursed its setbacks had became too much.

The kids made the pilgrimage home to mark the days before it changed hands.

During the sale the buyer was referred to simply as the “buyer.” Their realtor and their attorney had encouraged them to maintain a distance, knowing buyers back out of deals for any number of reasons.

Neighborhood friends keep them up to date on what the charming and friendly new owner is doing. As is his right, he’s proceeded to reverse many of the decisions they were most proud of.

As the closing approached they watched their house of thirty seven years being reduced to a commodity expressed in abstract numbers on piece of paper. Sign here, initial here.

There should be a specific name for the waves of homesickness that visit the couple from time to time, but there isn’t.

Mabel, Bob and the Puppets

08/26/2023 by Pat Shiplett 1 Comment

You can be forgiven for thinking, at first glance, that these hand puppets are teddy bears.For more than forty years the hand puppets have accompanied Mabel and Bob through airports, restaurants, memorial services, clam bakes and around the neighborhood. “Almost everywhere except job interviews.”

They’ve traveled hither and yon jutting out of backpacks and tote bags carried by their humans who refer to them as ‘the meeps’ because that singular sound is the basis of their very limited vocabulary.

They are tools of communication that express sentiments words alone can’t capture.

They help bring confrontations down a notch. They call out bullshit. With a shake of the head they can offer advice without judgement. And for being stuffed animals they are surprisingly discreet – they’ve learned that Bob or Mabel need to be left alone at times.

The puppets both answer to the same given name – Meep – but they are as different from each other as from you and me. They’re not siblings or in any way related by blood. They’ve never shown romantic interests in each other (or other hand puppets for that matter).

As is well known, puppets sometime quarrel with their puppeteers and with each other. After all, there are six possible combinations of opinions between these two humans and their meeps. But apologies are given and accepted quickly, and grudges fade within days.

The enduring relationships started when Mabel Liang and Bob Leigh attended their five-year reunion at Harvard. There is no favoritism between the four of them. To this day, the humans and their meeps attend to each others’ needs without question.

In puppet years, Meep and Meep are getting on in age. But despite patches of missing fur which have been attended to, there is no sign that they’re slowing down.

Hand puppets are a resilient lot.