Bring Home The Turkey

Thanksgiving is just a few days away, so to celebrate my sister’s and I busted out an out a Schwimmer family tradition and made some chocolate turkeys. It’s a little messy, but chocolate covered gobblers are almost as good as the real thing. Plus, no trypotphan!

Magical Lunch

Spotted this outside of Pizza Brava in the U-Distict. I actually think this sign was intended for the gyro restuarant across the street: Aladdin’s.

 

Suggested Reading: “Trial By Fire”

Cameron Todd Willingham in his cell on death row. Photo by Ken Light

Just finished reading an absolutely captivating piece by David Grann in the New Yorker. The article, entitled “Trial By Fire,” documents the case of Cameron Todd Willingham, a Texas man who was convicted and later executed for killing his three children in an apparent case of arson. Grann’s article, however, reexamines the case to show that Willingham was the vicitm of a railroading of epic proportions, from poor defense attorneys, questionable evidence, and a less-than-reliable jailhouse informant. In one startling bit of testimony, the prosecution argued that the posters of heavy metal bands Willingham hung on his walls were evidence that he was a sociopath.

At one point, [prosecutor] Jackson showed [expert witness] Gregory Exhibit No. 60—a photograph of an Iron Maiden poster that had hung in Willingham’s house—and asked the psychologist to interpret it. “This one is a picture of a skull, with a fist being punched through the skull,” Gregory said; the image displayed “violence” and “death.” Gregory looked at photographs of other music posters owned by Willingham. “There’s a hooded skull, with wings and a hatchet,” Gregory continued. “And all of these are in fire, depicting—it reminds me of something like Hell. And there’s a picture—a Led Zeppelin picture of a falling angel. . . . I see there’s an association many times with cultive-type of activities. A focus on death, dying. Many times individuals that have a lot of this type of art have interest in satanic-type activities.”

The other medical expert was James P. Grigson, a forensic psychiatrist. He testified so often for the prosecution in capital-punishment cases that he had become known as Dr. Death. (A Texas appellate judge once wrote that when Grigson appeared on the stand the defendant might as well “commence writing out his last will and testament.”) Grigson suggested that Willingham was an “extremely severe sociopath,” and that “no pill” or treatment could help him. Grigson had previously used nearly the same words in helping to secure a death sentence against Randall Dale Adams, who had been convicted of murdering a police officer, in 1977. After Adams, who had no prior criminal record, spent a dozen years on death row—and once came within seventy-two hours of being executed—new evidence emerged that absolved him, and he was released. In 1995, three years after Willingham’s trial, Grigson was expelled from the American Psychiatric Association for violating ethics. The association stated that Grigson had repeatedly arrived at a “psychiatric diagnosis without first having examined the individuals in question, and for indicating, while testifying in court as an expert witness, that he could predict with 100-per-cent certainty that the individuals would engage in future violent acts.”

Furthermore, witness testimony by arson experts, which was not available to Willingham at the time of his trial, proved that the fire that claimed his three children was accidental. Despite mountains of evidence detailing Willingham’s innocence, his appeals were dismissed.

This is an incredibly well-written article and I highly suggest that if you have a little extra time that you give it a read. Grann does a remarkable job recreating the case and piecing this heart-wrenching story back together in amazing detail. Do yourself a favor and read this one.

Whole Article

Update – Slate did a follow-up to Grann’s and how it relates specifically to the use of the death penalty. [Article]

Euro Tour Update

Someone else´s picture of the Santiago de Compestela

Hello all.

I´m writing this from the city of Santiago de Compostela, a super old cathedral town located in the Northwest corner of Spain. I´m sitting in the basement of a huge church nearby called the Senor Menor (I think), a place where hundreds of religious pilgrims come to rest overnight while they visit the Santiago De Compostela. It´s kind of like the YMCA, but 8000 times less sketchy. While I am not a religous pilgrim, I do enjoy a good value, and at 10 Euro a night for beds, showers, laundry, and internet, it´s pretty hard to beat. It´s rainy today, but that´s ok because we´ve scheduled in a rest day to take in the sights and sounds of this incredibly historic city. 
 
The trip building up to this point has been going very well.After we got our bearings and made it out of the airport section of town, we started heading up north from Porto, Portugal following the coast on the N-19 highway.  I´ve been biking my ass off ever since (literally, I can´t feel a thing down there).

We´ve been putting in an average of about 90 km a day (approx. 56 miles) and yesterday afternoon we passed through Valenca and crossed into Spain. The scenery is absolutely stunning, especially when we rolled into a town called Rodondelo. This place is basically like living inside of a postcard. Waiting for us there was a a pictuaresque street fair with music and dancing and amazing food as well. Unfortunately the camp site was closed yesterday so we had to improvise. We ended up finding a patch of grass behind a hotel so we set up our camp there and used the hotel´s bathroom facilities on the sly.  Actually turned out to be quite nice.
 
Today was probably the hardest day yet of cycling. The road leading into Santiago, though well paved, is extremely hilly. We had several long climbs today over the course of a 100 km day (just over 62 miles) and now my legs feel a little like pudding. Despite the exhaustion, I´m having a great time. It literally feels like I can´t open my eyes wide enough for them to absorb all the sights we take in on our two-wheeled journey.

Anyway, more posts coming soon. Stay tuned.

Goodbye Korea

I spent the first three months of my time in Korea wondering just where the hell I was. Now, 13 months later and sitting at the free interent  booth at Incheon airport, I’m starting to wonder just where the hell I’ve been. Perhaps we should start with the facts. I lived in a town called Seosan, which sits in the Cheongchungnam-do Province on the West coast of Korea. It has a population of about 200,000 people. It’s main industries are agriculture and petrolchemical processing (which are two industires that probably shouldn’t be so close together. But it is more than that.

Seosan is a place of crooked streets, of buildings and buisnesess haphazardly crammed together, and where apartment blocks compete for space with rice paddies. It is a place of unintentionally hilarious mispellings, of broken English, of convience stores placed on nearly every corner. It is a place where old women are bent at the hip from years and years of back-breaking work, and where old men drag carts of scavagend goods to junk yards. But it is more than that too.

Seosan is a place of kindness, where strangers smile and bow polietly, and where children stop to say hello to the funny looking “waigooken.”  For me it was a place of hand-gestures and body language.  It was a place where everyone called me teacher, even though I am certain that I was student. It was a place where I went to teach people to speak my language, but also where I learned once and for all that actions speak louder than words. It was a place where I made friends for life. But it was more than too. For 13 months, it was the place I called home.

So now I am saying goodbye. This chapter has come to an end and a new one will soon begin. I’d like to thank everyone who followed along as shared my stories and my discoveries, but most importantly I’d like to the thank the amazing people of Korea for making the last year such an incredible experience. So until we meet again, “Anyeong-he-kay-sayo.”

-E

Related Viewing: “Closing Time” – Semisonic

Winter Break

Just writing to let everyone know that this will be my last post for about a week or so as I’m heading to Beijing to check out the sites and ring in the New Year. Hope everyone had a great 2008, and may 2009 be even better.

Crime of Passion

South Korean starlet Ok So-ri was convicted of adultery yesterday in a case that challenged the constitutionality of Korea’s stance on extra-marital affairs. Ok, who admitted to a brief affair with an opera singer, was sentenced to a suspended 8-month jail sentence, which means she will serve no time; which is fair, considering her name contains a built-in apology (think about it). I really don’t think this is a big deal, but it is kind of unfortunate that someone gets punished for a borderline blue law.

Despite decades of Western influence, South Korea remains deeply conservative and is influenced by a Confucian heritage. Those convicted under the anti-adultery law face prison sentences of up to two years, though few serve time.

Supporters of the adultery ban say it promotes monogamy and keeps families intact. Opponents argue the law violates privacy. Complaints have been filed with the Constitutional Court three times in 1990, 1993 and 2001 to abolish the law, but the court has upheld it every time.

What’s more surprising to me is the fact that all those people who believe in “protecting the sanctity of marriage” back home in the States haven’t latched onto this law and ridden it for all it’s worth. If they’re going to decry gay marriage for eroding the meaning of marriage, shouldn’t they also stand tall against adulterers. Seems to me that if these people were smart they would quickly try to adopt this Korean law before the divorce rate climbs any higher. While their at it, why not take it one step further? If we just follow their train of thought to it’s next logical point, how bout all people convicted of adultery never be allowed to remarry. I dunno, just sayin’ is all.

Read the whole article here.

Related Listening: “Your Cheatin’ Heart” – Hank Williams

Harvest Season

The rice field I walk through each day on my way to work looked a little different today. It seems that the harvest season is in full swing, so the farmers who tend to the field decided to give their land a buzz cut and turn their green crops into some greenbacks. Though I try not to get overly analytical about my time here, it’s impossible not to feel certain parallels between the growth of the rice and my own personal journey out here in Korea. When I first arrived here, the field was nothing more than dirt and seeds waiting to be sown. A few months later the first buds started to appear, then after that, green as far as the eye could see. Now it’s harvest time; a time to start collecting your thoughts and start thinking about what to do next. In a few more months the last remnants of the rice plants will be completely gone and the field will be back where it started; just row upon row of empty soil waiting to be filled. And in a few more months, I will be gone and someone new will arrive to take my place. And maybe they will feel just as I feel when they walk past the waist-high stands of rice each day: that they too are just an empty field, waiting to be filled.

Related Listening:

“Harvest” – Neil Young

“I Don’t Wanna Grow Up” – Tom Waits

Powell Endorses Obama

Former Secretary of State with the Bush Administration, Gen. Colin Powell spoke with Tom Brokaw on Meet the Press recently to announce his full support for the Democratic nominee, Barack Obama. In addition to citing Obama’s many strengths as a leader, orator, and politician, Powell also denounces, amongst other things, the disturbing trend of polarization that has been creeping up within the McCain campaign. The Republican leader has grown increasingly disturbed with his party’s narrow-minded rhetoric, and their even narrower definition of what it means to be “American.”

I’m also troubled by, not what Sen. McCain says, but what members of the party say, and is permitted to be said. Such things as, “Well you know that Mr. Obama is Muslim.” Well the correct answer is he is “No.” He is not a Muslim, he is Christian. He has always been a Christian. But the really right question is, “What if he is?” Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer is no. That’s not America. Is there something wrong with some 7 year-old Muslim-American kid believing that he or she could be President?

Pretty powerful stuff if you ask me, and clearly a sentiment that has been pushed out to the peripheries in this campaign. The great thing about America is that there really is no one singular definition of who or what an American should be. 60 years ago people might have never dreamed they’d see an African American leading in the polls in the waning days of a Presidential election, but you know what? Times change. Who knows where we will be in the next 60. Maybe a gay Muslim woman will one day be taking the oath of office? What ever does happen, I can only hope we choose to take a step forward, not back.

Also, here’s a related article via Altmuslim.com

A Day of Antonment, and Flossing

Drill Baby, Drill

Went to the dentist today, and like most people who don’t floss regularly, I was not looking forward to it. I hadn’t been in for a check up in quite some time, so I was pretty sure the dentist was going to see more cavities than an airport security officer. After a quick x-ray and a brief once over, the dentist informed me, much to my surprise, that I did not have any new cavities, but I did have exceptionally sensitive teeth. He prescribed me some extra-strength toothpaste, and with that he was gone. Disaster averted…for now.

A friend of mine once said that visiting the dentist is like going to a confessional. I couldn’t agree more.  Once every year or so you walk into a strange place feeling slightly ashamed. You’ve done your best to wipe away your past indiscretions, but no matter what you do, the evidence always lingers. You sit down in the padded chair. The silence is almost deafening. Then out of nowhere a man wearing all white appears, his face obscured by a mask and glasses. He sits down next to you. You haven’t told him a thing yet for some reason you’re convinced he already knows what you’re going to say. Then calmly, coolly, he coaxes you into confessing your “sins.”

You open up slowly at first, then wider, ever wider. First you tell him you don’t floss, but in this day and age, who has the time? Then you admit that don’t always brush in small tight circles near the gum line, and sometimes you don’t scrub for a full two minutes. He looks closer at the x-ray. Sure he’s just looking at teeth, but at that moment, in that big puffy reclining chair with the bright white light beaming into your eyes, it’s almost as if he’s staring into the inner depths of your soul. He can literally see right through you. The tarter build-up, the de-calcification, the plaque – my lord the plaque! It’s futile. You finally give in. Suddenly your confessing that for the entire month of August you drank nothing but Dr. Pepper and fruit punch cocktails. You divulge every last detail, from the stash of Gobstoppers you keep in your glove compartment to the caffeine content of your morning cup of coffee. 4 shots of espresso? What where you thinking?!

And so you lie there in the chair, broken; defeated. Beads of sweat spill down from your brow. Your gums throb with a mixture of guilt, shame, and gingivitis. For a moment everything seems hopeless.

Then you see it – a halo of light shines down from on high. The man in the white suit knows all to well your predicament. He informs you that no matter how high the obstacles might stand or how deep the cavity might burrow, you can indeed wipe the slate clean. All it takes is a little faith, a little perseverance, and 30 seconds of vigorous swishing with extra-strength mouthwash in the morning and after meals. He hands you a pack of sugar free gum and some complimentary floss and with that, you are once again alone to face the world; a world full of temptations and high fructose corn syrup.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is: the next time you decide not to floss, remember – God is watching.

Related Listening:

“Crooked Teeth” – Death Cab For Cutie

“Teeth” – Mitch Hedberg