5 - 3 = 2 nonfiction books that are arguably fascinating—C'mon, stick with me here!

I'll read fiction when forced to, or when it's something I should read so I can sound not-so-completely out of it. But I vastly prefer nonfiction. Not so much the pop politics and pop philosophy, the "self-help" books (don't get me started on where I think that's taken us), or those instructing the manipulation of others. (I so don't care about How to Win Friends and Influence People. In that, I prefer a more focused approach.)

What I like is delving into the nitty-gritty of an offshoot of a sub-field of a field I already know next to nothing about. It's like, New World! Here are some of my favorites:

1. The American Way of Death Revisited

This exposé of the U.S. funeral industry was first published in 19xx; Mitford revised it in 19xx; then, she died.

I've seen this book cited in countless other books and articles. Once you've read it, you'll see it all over, too.

Mitford positively skewers the creators of the "beautiful memory picture" and their sneaky money-making techniques. Her deadly courteous interview questions and her deadpan observations will make you laugh—and make you writhe.

After reading this... 3 times so far... I can see more of the "hidden" industries as, well, industries. The book's a general education as well as a specifically focused one.

Of course, Mitford's practical viewpoint on the funeral industry is not the only way to look at things. I find myself balancing a few of her pronouncements against the natural workings of a market economy and against some indications that mourners get comfort out of arranging and spending for varying amounts of funeral pomp. Nonetheless, this book "puts too fine a point on it"—with wicked success.

2. One of Us: Conjoined Twins and the Future of Normal

This book is not Check Out What These People Did While Stuck Together—Wink, Wink. It's not even Oo, Here's How That Works. It's about identity, that is, "I" vs. "The Other," informed by the voices of conjoined twins. Imagine that conjoined twins might have a lot to say about this, huh?

You can read the opinions of many twins who were never separated (because of medical impossibility or their families' "do no harm" approach). To a one, they express happiness with remaining conjoined and conviction in that it was the right thing for them. Their individual identities incorporate conjoinment: it is normal to them. As many have pointed out regarding congenital differences, the person feels normal "to themselves." Who are we to muck about before they can even give a perspective on it?

This can be hard to grasp emotionally. Once you accept this new way of thinking about conjoined twins, there are implications for other "medical interventions." I was mulling this over when I watched a video about Abby and Brittany Hensel. It expanded my concept of individual identity. It focuses the question of valuing deviation from the norm vs. "correcting" it. (Though the possibility—or threat—of separating Abby and Brittany did not arise.) Well, see what you think.

That seems like plenty of content for a blog post. I'll continue another time, to review three more books. I already know which ones.

Black is black, I want my baby back

Portland is one of those happening small cities with lots of people popping into galleries and performance spaces in the evenings, stepping warily around Maine College of Art students and casual crafters sitting on the sidewalks trying to sell their art.

The city has a special night dedicated to these pursuits every month: First Friday. Guess when it's held. 

Last time I went to First Friday, I took note of the clothing worn by the students, vendors, me, and everyone else there. I have come up with the top 5 color combinations worn to the event.

Lucky those walls are white, huh?

1. Black and black.

2. Black and white.

3. Black and blue.

4. Black and purple.

5. Black and black.

Bartender Trick!

How to Look Cool Opening a Jar

Looks like this guy is a lot better at it than I was,
but I could throw a little flash, too.

Bartending is part assembly-line, part dance. When you're behind the bar—especially at a high-profile, high-volume dance bar—you are on stage. Multiple pairs of eyes track your every move, critically and mercilessly. Oddly, it's perceived as a "glamour job," and everyone thinks they could do it just as well or better.

So while you have to move smoothly through the process or you'll get your covers yanked fast, you also have to handle the interruptions smoothly. When you need ice, when you break a glass (oh god, not over the ice, please!), when you run out of garnish, you can't fumble around back there and you can't hold things up. It can get all Lucy Ricardo on you in a matter of seconds!

One of the most awkward tasks, and of course it comes up a few times a shift, is the need to open more juice. (Or cocktail onions or whatever, glinting at you from inside the hermetically-sealed jar.)

Imagine. You can't be back
behind the bar doing this.

Each time you face a new jar,
you sweat and think to yourself,  
What if this is the jar I won't be 
able to open?!

So! Here's what you can do:

1. Hold the jar around the middle in your non-dominant hand. 

2. Tilt the lid end about 45º down from the horizontal.

3. With the base of your other palm, smack the bottom of the jar firmly to break the air seal. 

4. Tip the bottle up, and twist open normally (maybe with a flourish).

Tips:

* Don't smack it so hard that you hurt your hand. Or break the jar.

* Concentrate on what feels right for breaking the air lock, and strive for one smack.

* It may take some practice to get the smack just right; it's really more of a dull thwock.

* With further practice, you'll find the smack-and-twist steps flow into one smooth move.

Now, I did not post this because I think you are an aspiring bartender; rather, I'm showing how this bartender's trick can help when 1) you need to open a jar and the "regular" way isn't doing it for you; and/or, 2) some babe, or your child (especially if teenaged) asks you to open a jar. You know, when you're on stage. This way, you'll look like a smooth operator. Like me.

Asa is not happy that he has no Facebook page.

Though he still looks mad here,
he has accepted my explanation.

 Asa is 12. Facebook's policy is that kids have to be 13 before they can have an account.

Some parents (most that I know) allow their under-13 children to be on Facebook, even going so far as to lie about the child's age so they can get on the site. The explanation I hear most often is that kids need to be on Facebook to participate fully in their peer group's social life.

Uh-huh. Asa participates quite a bit in his peer group's social life. He seems not at all socially restricted by his lack of a Facebook page. Even he admits it: he knows the score.

No, the reason Asa isn't on Facebook is that the policy says 13 and up. Yeah, I know, I've heard about how that's arbitrary or whatever. Doesn't matter. It's Facebook's right to make that decision and enforce it. You can bet they studied it and consulted on it before determining it. Facebook's age requirement didn't just pop into some geek's head arbitrarily.

The biggest deal for me is that in order to get Asa on Facebook before the age of 13, I have to lie about his age. Think:  I'd be promoting lying about your age to bypass restrictions on Internet sites.  Seem good?

The potential fallout is most clearly illustrated by imagining you have, say, a 14-year-old daughter and someone tips you off that she is on a dating site. You can't believe it. But you look, and there she is—with her real name and town, her real picture. She's done up in sexy clothing and make-up so that you barely recognize her. (But with gut-wrenching chagrin, you do.) Her ad says she's 22 and "looking for fun."

Did you expect her not to do this? When you modeled it? Go ahead—try explaining the difference to her now.