One Review in Three Tones

(Exercise for an online class)

Objective

Hinterland is a program about police investigations set in contemporary Wales. Befitting a British production, it was not a weekly “26 or 39 episode” show designed to be broadcast over one season with reruns in the summer (as American TV was for many decades), but three “series” of 8 or 9 episodes, filmed over three years. A unique feature of the show was its having been filmed twice, each episode once in Welsh, and then again in English. 

The main characters are Tom,  a detective sent down from London into exile because of personal flaws and failures in his past, and Mared, an “up through the hawsepipe” local police investigator who knows everything and everyone in the area. The tensions: local vs London, woman vs man: dark vs. light, etc that characterize the drama enhance viewer pleasure and draw an engaged audience.

Episodes deal with individual cases, but one main story, introduced in the first episode of the first season, carries through all 3 series to a final satisfying denouement in the 25th episode.
Humorous

If you’re looking for a television program that will carry you through a few days of binge watching during lockdown, you could do worse than calling up Hinterland on Netflix. It’s set in Wales, so the scenery won’t be familiar to you from Hollywood (or anywhere else) productions. The mood is dark and rainy, but the actors are a good looking lot. The tension between them: professional, romantic?, sexual (implied but not acted on) and the ways that everyone carries secrets from each other and from viewers draws interest and attention.  

One story, involving sexual abuse of residents in a youth home by otherwise respectable members of local society, is introduced in the first episode but not resolved until the 25th. Individual episodes and groups of 2 or 3 episodes take up and resolve separate crimes. The dirty underside of what otherwise appears to be bucolic rural Welsh life is plumbed and brought to light.  

Anyone who believed that dastardly deeds were an urban phenomenon and perfidy did not pollute the sticks will be brought up short. 

Inspirational

Though I was caught in the web of intrigue cast for me by the producers of Hinterland, a Welsh detective program available through Netflix, I can’t say that I was entertained. The show’s dark aspects, seen in the weather, the lighting, the brokenness of even the “good guy” main characters as well as in the criminals they chase and the heinous crimes they solve, lends itself more to introspection than delight or enjoyment. 

Compare it, if you will, to the kind of church experience you might find in a Roman Catholic congregation on Good Friday sitting cheek-by-jowl with a Health and Wealth gospel contemporary Protestant church on Easter Sunday.  The first aims at the darkness of human experience in anticipation of redemption, and the second ignores the existence of sadness completely.  Well, Hinterland is like “always Winter and never Christmas”, or “always Lent and never Easter.”

If there’s enough Christmas in you to carry you through winter, or enough Easter in you to get you through Lent, then this just may be the program you need to provoke thought and reflection on the dark parts of human life. 

David Alexander now resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

Nearer to Death as More Alive

The Closer to Death a Thrill takes us, the More Alive we are likely to Feel.

With the exception of 2020, when the current pandemic has locked us down and cancelled many events, carnival rides are a common feature of festivals and celebrations. In general, carnival rides are safe. They may raise us high (as on a ferris wheel) or whip us around corners at high speed (as a roller coaster), but we’re fairly safe on these machines. If that weren’t so, the companies that operate them and the festivals that hire those companies to set up for several days could not get insurance. 

Carnival rides may be advertised as offering thrills, but they don’t come close to the kinds of thrill involved in bungee jumping, parachute jumping, or white-water rafting.  These pursuits bring a participant nearer to death, and by doing that, bring the kind of exhilaration that makes one feel more alive. 

Riding a motorcycle at high speed in the dark may be one way to find this thrill through risking death. But don’t forget, doing so risks death, and may well lead to the rider’s own, or some innocent bystander’s, demise.  

Find your thrills at the carnival, not on the road. 

David Alexander now resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

We All Need to Cross-train

Athletes who specialize in one particular sport are encouraged to cross-train in order to improve overall performance. Of course, basic fitness is good for all sports, but on top of that foundation, building skills in more than one speciality is beneficial in reaching top ability in another.

In complex organizations, managers are well advised to have the members of their teams cross-train in each other’s skills, so that the team as a whole can continue to function in the absence of particular members. Cross training is good for employees and team members because it makes each person more valuable to the organization that she serves.

Human life is like that. A technician who cannot appreciate a well plotted mystery or a well played sonata is missing something of what it means to be human. A scientist whose sense of wonder does not stretch beyond the laboratory to the way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid, lives an impoverished life.

It is much the same thing when a poet cannot fry an egg, a parson cannot change a tyre, or a linguist cannot program a GPS to show him the way to an address in a city where he has never driven.  We all need to know the depths of the human soul, and have an idea of the mountains of human potential.

The false dichotomies of “arts vs sciences”, “faith vs reason”, “spiritual vs physical” and even “mind vs matter” impoverish what it means to be both human and divine at the same time. 

David Alexander now resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

 

Things are Different Now

Taking a trip through the household cleaners aisle at a supermarket in Taiwan, be it Carrefour, RT Mart or some other brand of emporium, one finds products in large plastic jugs. Laundry detergent, bleach, fabric softener, window cleaner, toilet cleaner and floor cleaner.  Each is labeled not only in large characters, but also, somewhere else, in English, and most importantly, with a representation of what it does. Window cleaners show sparkles, bleach shows whiteness, and fabric softeners fluffy animals.  Floor cleaners show mops and shiny floors.

On shelves directly adjacent to where those jugs are on sale, plastic bags of the same liquids are offered at lower prices. You take these home, snip off the corner, and with the help of a steady hand or a funnel (in my case), refill your jug.  I thought fondly of those jugs and bags when cleaning the floors in our Michigan home today.

Taiwan is dusty.  Our windows were usually open, too. I vacuumed and mopped every Saturday morning. Usually it was needed by then, but if, for some reason like being out of town, I skipped, the floors would be super-needy the next time Saturday came around.  My sequence was, “pick up, dust the furniture, vacuum the floors, clean the bathrooms, mop everywhere (I used a string mop and a bucket with a wringer), collapse in a pool of sweat.”  Not elegant, but it got the job done in a couple hours. 

We don’t need to do the floors nearly so often here, partly because there’s less dust, and partly because no window has been open for 6 months (unless we burned something on the stove.) Besides, we have a thing called a “Swiffer” that, at the touch of a button, sprays a little floor cleaner and then picks up the dust as you “swiff” it across the floor. It’s sure easier than a string mop, but I just don’t feel that it gets things clean. 

         Today I decided to use a bucket, hot water and a string mop that I bought when we equipped the house. But, I had no floor cleaner (like I would have had in Taiwan). Laundry detergent is too sudsy, and the stuff you squirt into the sink when washing dishes is even sudsier (is that even a word?).  Then, like the swiffer, something else we didn’t have in Taiwan came to mind. This house has an automatic dishwasher. Those little pods of non-sudsing chemicals that you throw into it are perfect.  One of those in a bucket of hot water yielded a very clean floor and a bucket of murky water down the drain afterward. 

Learning substitutions for what had been familiar before we went to live in Taiwan was part of becoming local there.  Learning substitutions for those things is what makes the adventure of America new again. 

David Alexander now resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

 

Postal Patron

I spent my mid-20s in Taiwan during the 1970s. Though I likely knew in my heart that I wasn’t much, I sure didn’t let myself think so, propping up my ego with whatever was at hand. I once had name cards printed giving my address and phone number. I taught as an adjunct lecturer at a few government run colleges and was on the staff of at least two church-affiliated centers, but I didn’t include those, because I couldn’t write their names in Chinese.

At different times between 1982 and 2018 I carried name cards to exchange with people who gave me theirs. In the final 10 years of work, though, I didn’t even get through a batch of 200 that had been printed for me by Tainan Theological College, where I worked. Probably 150 of those got dumped when I left. 

A Taiwan name card carries more than name and contact information. It serves as a mini-resume. Once I saw one that identified the bearer as a graduate of a particular department of a particular university, even though his course of studies was totally unrelated to what he was doing when he passed it out. 

In 2019 when Taiwan’s President Tsai Ing-wen visited New York City I wrangled myself an invitation to the banquet where she spoke. Knowing that I’d be among Taiwanese people, I considered having cards made at a stationery store, but I dawdled and didn’t get the order placed in time. That turned out to save me some money. Had I bought 200, I’d have distributed no more than 6. 

But of late I’ve been considering getting the software and paper to run some off on the printer by my computer.  Of course, I’d need to put my name, address, phone numbers and email address, and maybe the address of this blog. But, what title should I use?  It should express something about my life, but “retired guy who sits in a chair” doesn’t sound very impressive.  Earlier this week, on the way to the post office to send some letters, I landed on it.

David Alexander.    Postal Patron.

What do you think?

 

David Alexander now resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

Gobbledegook

Gobbledegook is language characterized by circumlocution and jargon, usually hard to understand: ( https://www.dictionary.com/browse/gobbledegook?s=t).

I was moved to think of this by something from Taiwan last week.   The process of applying to be an artist in residence at the Pier 2 art zone in Kaohsiung for a couple months of 2021 requires submission of an “artist’s statement”.  Having visited a few museums where these are posted near the entrances of visiting exhibitions, I’ve attempted to read a few.  I mocked them as obtuse, never imagining a day would come when I’d have to provide one.

Thank God for ABC, the company that brings us Google.  I searched out sample statements and even found links to an Artist Statement Generator or two.  The generators are spoof sites that throw together random “artsy” terms and come out sounding like genuine artist statements. 

Not that I’m not full of malarkey myself, but they were too much for me.  I finally thought through what I am good at, words, and fell back on that to come up with what follows: 

From the rejected, by the neglected, in the unexpected.

I use fabric found in closets or left over from previous projects, hanging it from existing protrusions in walls or window frames that have almost disappeared because nobody looks at or through those windows, and high up in the space overhead or on upper story walls where nobody has previously displayed anything.  In these ways I transform what was rejected and display it via use of the neglected in spaces where it is unexpected. 

If it falls short of an artist’s statement, well, I’m not really an artist to start with. But it does describe what I do. 

David Alexander now resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

Haircuts

Early in my Taiwan years, way back in 1976, I learned two contradictory things. I should keep my hair, which I’d been wearing quite long in the early 70s, short, and that Barber shops were often covers for brothels. As a young missionary volunteer, I had to be careful.

Eventually I found a place where male barbers were actively cutting hair, and learned to distinguish the shops with scissors from the ones without. But I still had a difficult relationship with haircutting in general. It was generational, going back to teenage conflicts with my father and to having been in the Army for a few years.

Moving into professional life in Taiwan in the 80s, I figured out how and where to stay tonsorially acceptable for my role.  After relocating to from Kaohsiung to Tainan in 2007, I hit upon the bargain clip joints at super markets, and depending on where I was when feeling myself overly shaggy, would get a trim before or after getting groceries. 

We left Taiwan in July of 2018. I’d had a trim in June that year, and got another one in October (which cost me four times the clip joint rate in Tainan). With the exception of a small trim in November of 2019, I haven’t been in a barber chair in a long time.

 

I started out thinking to grow my now white hair long, aiming for a Karl Lagerfeld look. But unline Karl, I have almost nothing on top. Recently, walking past a statue of Ben Franklin, I found that I can relate.  

 

 

 

 

David Alexander now resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

The Ubiquity of Books

Across our four decades in Taiwan, we went through thousands of books. You might expect that for people in missionary work that meant bibles and religious books. Not in our case.  We’re voracious readers. Finding books is part of the bargain.

In the early 80s Kaohsiung hosted a former United States Information Service (USIS) library. The nearby YWCA also had a book exchange room, where folks leaving town often left what they weren’t carrying or shipping home. Before Taiwan joined the WTO and came under international copyright controls, bookstores on Wu Fu 4th Road supplied us with pirated editions of recent imports.    

                                                                                                    Photo by Susan Yin on Unsplash

When the USIS library closed, the books went to the city library branch in San Min Park.  On a visit, I noticed a corner full of what appeared to be the kinds of books that earlier went to the YWCA. One day I went to drop off some of our own excess there. The door was locked, so I left a stack outside.  

On sabbaticals or vacations in North America, we’d use the M-bag shipping rate for printed matter and send up to a hundred pounds at a time home to Taiwan. When that rate ended I got better at catalog and eventually at online ordering. Our collection outgrew available space. Once on a Kaohsiung Yahoo Group I posted “Free Library, 300 books. Come and take them all.”  Someone who ran a hostel came and did. 

When we moved to Tainan in 2007 we got more.  I began ordering used books by author names or by genres: history, travel, biography, women authors, spiritual autobiography. A west-coast screenwriter, Susan B. Isaacs, caught my attention. Forgetting the middle initial, I was thrilled to discover about a dozen books by Susan Isaacs. I ordered them all. Different woman, different coast: Susan Isaacs is an east coast mystery writer. But she’s good, and I still read everything I can find by her. 

Books came in by the dozens, and left by the hundreds (once a year).  When it came time to leave in 2018, we packed the best and offered the rest free for the taking on a Tainan facebook page. Many people came and left laden. When I took what remained to a used book dealer he refused them all. They ended up at a recycling dump.

Our current home is a mere thousand steps from an excellent public library. I no longer buy print books. Lately I’m reading mysteries. This too will pass, maybe by the time the plague does. 

David Alexander now resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan.

Not an Open Mic

Open mic is a live event during which non-professionals perform on stage for a short time, often from 3 to 7 minutes. Depending on the rules at the location, “open mic” may be poetry reading, music, comedy or even striptease. Performers have to sign up and stick to house rules. There’s usually a master of ceremonies to moderate things.  In Taiwan, open mic happens in Taipei, Taichung, Tainan and Kaohsiung. Even in little Holland, MI (where I now reside), there are several venues.

Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

I recently joined another kind of “open mic” experience,  an online class from the University of California on “How to Write an Essay”, The course is for people who plan to study at the college level. It’s designed to help learners transition from writing reports and stories to “academic writing”.   There are about 350 people from around the world enrolled in the current class cohort. 

Academic writing is not easy to learn.  The course begins with a basic lesson on grammar and sentences. It soon launches into the nature of a thesis statement. Well designed exercises allow an almost “open mic” atmosphere in terms of what to write in the online forums. Given this freedom, many classmates from around the world ignore everything in the assignment and spout off about COVID-19. There’s nothing wrong with that topic, but mere opinionating and bloviation about it outside of the assignment to create a thesis statement is like open mic without a master of ceremonies.  

Some international students struggle with expressing themselves in English. Allowances are made.  Others have been mis-educated to the degree that they do not allow themselves to do independent thinking. In an assignment to write an entire paragraph, I initially admired one learner whose English language ability made me suspect that he is from the USA. He wrote about Biblical illiteracy. I didn’t agree with him, but since the forums are open. a little faith in there is a positive thing. I was moved to repent of my admiration, though, because after the first short sentence, in everything that followed he was about as articulate as a rant by the current American president. In the end, his “testimony” probably did more harm than good in front of the Pakistanis, Arabs and Indians on the course. 

We are encouraged to respond to other students’ submissions. In fact, those who desire the course certificate are required to respond to at least two other students in each lesson. As I write responses, I try to be encouraging.  When tempted to write something like, “go back and finish 8th grade before taking this course,” I take a breath and choose someone else’s post. 

Since I’d be a rotten moderator of an open mic night in Tainan, or even here in Holland, I’ll look for something else to do in retirement. 

David Alexander now resides in Holland, MI after 39 years in Taiwan. 

Before and After

It was built in 1957 (hardly that long ago), but the chapel at Tainan Theological College is deemed an architectural treasure by the city government early in the 21st Century. Don’t think that means government subsidy for physical upkeep (as the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris).  Before I retired from Tainan, the college bursar explained that getting any subsidy for repair required the school to hire city approved architects and planners to write things up. The fees for these would eat up all of the subsidy, and the repairs themselves would be more expensive.  When Typhoon Morakot blew in a window in 2009, repair involved using as much of the old, rotted window frame as possible, and matching the broken bits with new ones specially made. That space in the wall was covered with plywood for months!

The original plan put a large rose window on the west side of the building. In 1957 the budget only allowed for frosted glass.In the 1970s a pipe organ was installed, blocking any light that came through it anyway. The window, about 8 feet in diameter, would have cost a lot to “colorize”. Funds would have to be raised, and even someone like me could understand that they might be better spent on other things. The bell tower on the east end of the chapel (without a bell) was 4 floors high with windows facing the college quad, but these, too, were of clear or frosted glass.  

One summer, without asking, and spending the money from my own pocket, I had colored acrylic plastic cut to fill those panes. I drilled little holes in their corners and mounted them to the frames with  little screws and push tacks. The effect was like a beach ball when I turned on a light inside at night. As is said in some songs, “once you get started, it’s hard to stop.” I figured out a way to colorize the rose window on an even tighter budget. This time, though, I asked first, and was given a target of “keep it under NT$X,XXX.”  It was ready by Christmas of 2017. If you go up to the organ loft and look closely, you’ll see that it was done quickly and on the cheap. But I recently found a blog post with a picture that affirmed my work, calling attention to its elegance. I’m pumped!

David Alexander now resides in Holland, Michigan after 39 years in Taiwan.