bio

Silver Threads Among the Gold

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One thing I do like about my hair is its color. When I was little it was white-blonde, partly because I lived in Bangkok and spent a lot of time out in strong sunlight. It darkened as I got older, to its present ash-blonde, with random (and completely natural) patches of lighter and darker color here and there. A very cliché gay hairdresser I went to, years ago, gasped in delight: “I just LOVE your streaks!”

Now I’m getting my first white hairs, and I rather like the effect. The individual hairs are thicker than my other hair, so they spring out and catch the light, sparkling against the soft tones of the rest. I don’t think I’ll mind at all when my hair eventually goes completely white.

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Italian culture, Italian language, living in Italy

What’s in a Title? Signora vs. Signorina in Italy

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I’m 42 today and, waking up with blue circles and bags under my eyes, I look it. Well, that’s the result of two days on my feet in the kitchen, cooking for 35 people (yes, I did have lots of help – thank you, Shannon!) for our annual Thanksgiving/ birthday/ housewarming feast (the housewarming part is not meant to be annual). Most of the time, people say I look young for my age, and I don’t think it’s just idle flattery.

I’ve been trying to understand the logic by which Italians decide to call me signora (Mrs.) or signorina (Miss). When Ross was small and I was in daily contact with her teachers and other parents at her schools, I was accustomed to being signora, because everyone assumed that, as a mother, I must also be a Mrs.

This signora habit almost got me arrested once. I was getting off the bus in Milan, in a hurry to pick up Ross from daycare, and swept right past the squad of public transport inspectors doing one of their random checks. I completely ignored the calls behind me of “Signorina! Signorina!,” assuming they couldn’t be directed at me. So the inspectors thought I was running away to dodge a fine for travelling without a ticket (actually, I am always scrupulous about bus and train tickets, except when I forget to stamp them).

I’m often called signorina even now. This may be because I often dress informally, by Italian standards, in jeans and sweaters. In a business suit and heels, I’m almost always signora. On some occasions, the choice of address seems to be based on the speaker’s desire to flatter me, and which term they think will accomplish that.

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technology

What’s in the Apple Name? Quality and Support Problems with iPods

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Even marketers can get fooled by brand reputation. My daughter asked for an iPod for her birthday this summer. While normally somewhat cautious in buying electronics, I didn’t think twice about this – it’s Apple, right? They have a reputation for customer satisfaction and reliable hardware, right? Um, well… That reputation is no longer deserved, as far as I can tell.

I bought the iPod through Amazon (a good customer experience, but that’s another story) and had it sent to Ross at summer camp, knowing that it would be cheaper in the US, though she couldn’t use it til she got home. When she did, I installed the iTunes software on my Windows computer and connected the iPod. It worked well enough at first; we put over 800 songs on the 15 GB iPod – about 1/3 of its capacity. The connection to the computer was flaky from the start; I frequently had to reset the iPod before I could disconnect it. Then Windows just stopped seeing the iPod altogether. It still gets power through the FireWire cable and can be recharged, but the Windows operating system doesn’t find it.

That was when – too late – I did my homework. A browse through the Apple site revealed that:

  • many, if not most, Windows iPod users have similar problems
  • Apple support is unreachable online. There is no way to email them a query; all you can do online is send a request for a service number to send it back for warranty service.

After mentioning the iPod problems in an earlier newsletter, I heard from several people about similar problems, plus a problem I haven’t run up against yet: apparently the iPod’s rechargeable battery tends to go permanently flat just after the one-year warranty expires, and Apple will charge you $200 to replace it. See one customer’s response to this. However, on another site I learned that it’s not difficult to replace the battery yourself, for only about $40.

I borrowed a Mac, assuming that it would easily see the iPod and I could at least get it filled up with songs to keep Ross happy for a while. To my chagrin, the problem is exactly the same: the iPod can get power through its FireWire cord, but the Mac operating system can’t see it any more than Windows could. Also, to my surprise, it is easy to crash the iTunes software even on its native Mac platform. At least, it’s easy for me. I always manage to use software in ways that no one else does, so I’m very good at discovering bugs (programmers both love and hate me for this). But I really expected better from Apple, at least on their home turf.

Before I go to the hassle and expense of sending the iPod back to Apple (which I may have to do in the US, since I bought it in the US), I want to try a different cord and see if maybe the problem is there. Turns out that a friend of Ross’ also has an iPod, so we’ll try to borrow his cord. Interestingly, he also has a problem with his iPod: if he takes it jogging, it sometimes shuts off and can’t be turned on again until its battery has completely run down and then recharged.

Ross’, in the meantime, seems to have developed a mind of its own, turning itself on in the middle of the night with a series of loud beeps, and then starting to play.

So much for placing one’s faith in a brand. The Apple iPod: it’s cool, it’s trendy, it’s from Apple – buy it at your own risk.

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bio, religion

The God Gene: Why Some of Us Just Don’t Get Religion?

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In this new book, Dean Hamer discusses possible genetic components of “a personality trait known as self-transcendence, originally identified by Washington University psychiatrist Robert Cloninger. Cloninger found that spiritual people tend to share a set of characteristics, such as feeling connected to the world and a willingness to accept things that cannot be objectively demonstrated. … Hamer confirmed what earlier studies had found: heredity is partly responsible for whether a person is self-transcendent or not.” (quoted from a review on Amazon)

The book has been attacked on various grounds; I won’t bother to attack or defend since I have not yet read it. But the theory that religious feeling (or spirituality) may be genetically determined would explain something that otherwise puzzles me greatly: why do many intelligent people believe in god?

A number of religious people have been part of my life, including some who, while not following any organized religion, believe in or crave some sort of “spirituality.” I try – I really do! – to be respectful of their beliefs, because I respect these folks personally for other reasons.

But, frankly, I just don’t get it. I don’t feel a need for god or spirituality. I can feel connected to the world, and delight in its many wonders, without needing to thank anybody. I have my own strong moral compass that tells me how to treat people and the world, without reference to any scripture. I have no belief in a spiritual world I can’t see, and don’t feel the lack of that belief. Some people are born color-blind; I guess I was born god-blind.

Religions have an explanation for people like me: we haven’t been exposed to, or have refused to accept, the word of god – we haven’t seen the light (as I said: god-blind).

Until now, I’ve been groping for a way to explain them. “Opiate of the masses” only covers the ignorant and easily-led, and assumes complete bad faith on the part of every spiritual leader who ever lived. I can’t go that far. So I’ve had to assume that people whom I know to be intelligent in every other way are just dumb in this particular area, or victims of a traditional upbringing. Which, of course, is no explanation.

I therefore like the idea that the need for religion may have a genetic component. This would explain why some people feel this need strongly, and others not at all. The desire for this feeling of self-transcendence is independent of any specific religion, and even of the question as to whether there is a god. There may or may not be something “beyond” what science will ever be able to explain; for genetic reasons, some of us care a lot about being in touch with whatever it may be, and others don’t. In either case, we can’t help it – we were born that way.

 

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Italian language

Italian Orphan Names

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Italy has a millennia-old tradition of abandoning unwanted infants. The Romans exposed them on remote hillsides to be (hopefully) adopted by someone who needed a child or (more likely) eaten by wolves. In more recent times, babies were left on church steps, in most cases to be raised by the Church. Since no one knew who their parents were, these abandoned children were given surnames denoting their orphan status:

  • Orfanelli – little orphans
  • Poverelli – little poor (people)
  • Peverelli – slightly disguised version of the above
  • Trovato, Trovatelli – found, little foundling
  • Esposito – exposed. BTW, it’s pronounced eh-SPO-sih-toe, not ess-po-ZEE-to

These names have by now been inherited for generations, but, somewhere along the line, these folks’ ancestors were abandoned as infants.

Nicole over at zoomata.com sent me the following:

“Innocenti and Nocentini are both common names of orphan origins in Florence, from the Ospedale degli Innocenti (Hospital of the Innocents)… where babes were left, no questions asked, in a little revolving door in a corner… It’s still there, with a little iron grate over it.”

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Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia