NYCweboy

To See A Man About A (Hot, Sexy) Horse

Spent yesterday afternoon on a last ditch effort to solve a pooter problem - lesson for all, as if you need it: make backups... and backup your backups - and generally, failed. Lest you want to provide sympathy for my unfortunate turn of events... it's not that big a deal. Really.

Still, it's been a learning experience; I've learned more in the past few weeks about portable hard drive technology than I ever intended to. I now know about FAT32, the click of death, how to mount a hard drive, and more about the inner workings of hard drive hardware than I ever planned to know. And it's all been sort of interesting, since I like to be generally knowledgable about everything... and one of the frustrating aspects of these newfangled computers is... as lay people, we often know very little, and rely on experts to explain things to us. Which - in my slightly know-it-all way- I can't stand.

I was also reminded, yet again, about how much of IT is a youth oriented profession; that was especially true of the afternoon I spent at Tekserve, the Apple only computer store and service center in Manhattan, where everyone - from customers to technicians - range in age from about 20 to 50. Apple's success, in particular, I think, comes from appealing to a younthful, tech savvy market. But often, Apple users don't bother to know a lot of details; it works so well, the problems can be so rare... it's bewildering when they crop up. And then you find yourself relying on some 22 year old, usually cute, know-all guru to help you solve your, probably obvious to him or her, problem. Whether at Tekserve or at the Apple Store Genius Bar... I've rarely seen a tech over 30, usually someone too hip to live in your world, cute in that modern, geeky way (boys, girls, black white... you name it).

I know we'll have reached a new moment in our technological lives - and probably in our American economy - when computer work, especially for Apple, is no longer a young, sexy field of endeavor (kind of the way some have taken to using the "hot waiter" scale to determine when the economic downturn ends - when goodlooking people can go back to supporting themselves fully as models and actors), we'll know the recession is over. Until then, may I suggest the service area at Tekserve may be the most subversive pickup joint in New York; just nod your head sympathetically and learn a few buzz words... like mounting a hard drive.

And whatever you do... don't recommend Western Digital. :)

Girls Rule

I think it's time to admit that Drew Barrymore has grown up.

I don't say this with any joy - Barrymore is the Piscean actress I admire most, who seems to float through her career with lots of interesting detours, never quite with a sense of direction... but always somehow terrific - like not winning an Emmy for Grey Gardens, and yet, somehow, clearly being in charge of its every success.

Still, when you direct a major motion picture - and the results are as charming and winning as the new Whip It - perhaps it is time to admit that someone has put away childish things.

Whip It doesn't give up on kid-like enthusiams - there's lots of swearing, riot grrls with tattoos, and even a food fight - but it succeeds admirably for two reasons: one is by keeping its eye on a smal, sweet story and the other is by making female centered film about sport.

Roller derby may not seem an obvious choice for turning into a tale of sport heroics, but in Barrymore's hands it all makes sense. Whip It is the story of Bliss, a sweet, shy girl who tries to live up to her mother's dream of competing in Texas beauty pageants, but finds herself drawn to the wild girls of a local roller derby, winds up pulling out her old skates and trying out for the team. In short order, she learns to be a tough, kickass derby girl, and helps lead her team of lovable misfits to a chance at greatness.

Oh yeah... and she gets the lead singer in a rock band and she totally wins her parents over to her side.

Whip It breathes knowing coolness by remembering why coolness matters: it's how misfits and geeks work to redefine themselves in a way that both says "fuck off" to the world and rises above the stupidity of petty humiliations. If the gals in Whip It throw more elbows and take more hits than the rest of us, they also get to remind us that they do it all with heart and a shared camaraderie. This is girl power of the best sort, a film that believes in women, in their strength, and their power... and believes we can all get there, if we tap into our natural resources.

In a field of great, winning performances, two really stand out: Marcia Gay Harden reiterates her capabilities as an actress as Bliss' mother, a mail carrier of modest means who dreams of big things for her daughters. It's a performance so layered and so full of possibilities, that it lingers long after the film is over. The other is Kristen Wiig, displaying the kind of mix of toughness and good heartedness that I think Jennifer Aniston yearns to produce naturally, as team captain and mentor to Bliss.

Of course, the whole affair wouldn't work if the lead performance sucked, and Ellen Page reminds us, yet again, that Juno was not a fluke (or a mannered, indie exception). Page is the real thing, a winning mix of grit, determination and winsomeness, perfect for teen rebels and exploring the less obvious, less seen contours of life as a teenage girl. Though Bliss becomes a roller derby standout, we can see that this development amazes herself as much as the audience, and that she will not sacrifice her other strengths - a goodhearted nature and sense of decency - for success. I'm not sure many sports films have had a hero, or heroine, this good.

Barrymore pulls all of this together with a sureness and a sense of off kilter grace that, again, show a real grown-up flair; it's absurd that she has had to work so long for an opportunity handed to 20 year old boys out of USC... but I suspect Barrymore needed a life's journey to get to the point of telling stories this well and with this much assurance. I can't wait to see more... even if the film is not perfect, and the biggest misstep is Barrymore herself, in a somewhat misconceived supporting role as the klutzy, fight prone team member. She's better, and bigger than the part... and it shows.

But that's a minor quibble. Barrymore gets so much good work out of so many people (rapper/actress Eve, Juliette Lewis, Jimmy Fallon, and a slew of lovely teen unknowns), and shows such a winning touch with the material, it's almost absurd how she can take some of the hoariest elements of storytelling, and give them a fresh, edgy spin. And mostly it's because, to its (broken) bones, Whip It believes that women can do anything. So do I. And someday, I think, the rest of the world will grow up to that.

A Woman, Alone

It's surprising, really, that Gabrielle "Coco" Chanel's life has never quite made it successfully into film (or theater, for that matter). A fascinating woman with a fascinating life, hers is probably the most public, most obvious example of the changes in women's lives over the twentieth century - both because she lived her own with such
ferocious independence, and because she then changed the world for a lot of other women, through her pioneering efforts to change women's fashion.

Coco Before Chanel (Coco Avant Chanel) is the latest attempt, infinitely more satisfying than much of what's come before... and yet, still, only hinting at a lot of the possibilities. A lush, beautiful film, beautifully realized, Coco Before Chanel may be a great film about fashion, indeed one of the best yet... and still manages to leave a sense of not being entirely complete.

Abandoned by her father to an orphanage in the French countryside, Chanel grew up with her sister, learning the kinds of things girls learned in orphanages run by nuns - how to sew, and serve - until eventually the two girls struck out on their own as aspiring cabaret singers. With limited options for them financially and personally, both women  move to find older men who will "take care" of them - i.e. as courtesans or mistresses - and both succeed. Coco's sister winds up the mistress of a Baron, and Coco gets involved with Etienne Balsan, a wealthy horse breeder and businessman.

The film presents Chanel as very much, from the beginning, her own woman. She does what she has to do to survive, but she doesn't feel bound, especially, to either convention, or the expectations of others (how very French!). It helps that Chanel is played by Audrey Tautou, luminously beautiful, as always, and capable of conveying volumes in a glance. As Chanel, she keeps herself slightly set apart from the world around her, and we see how Coco takes in what she sees - what people wear, what fanric does, how people react. And we see, gradually, how Chanel's personal style eveolves, and how it brings her to making her own style of clothes for others.

Eventually, Chanel meets Arthur "Boy" Capel, the young scion of a family of British merchants (who speaks impeccable French and thanks to Alessandro Nivola, is drop dead handsome), and falls in love.  But any dreams she has of finding respectability in marriage are thwarted, again, as Capel marries someone considered more suitable by his family, while continuing his relationship with Chanel.

It's all very sophisticated and French and stylish... and it bears a close relationship to what actually happened... if, for instance, you completely ignore Chanel's relationship with the Duke of Westminster or her friendship with Misia Sert. Obviously intended to simplify and straighten out a fairly complicated, often messy life, Coco Before Chanel does better than most to suggest the evolution of style and the development of a free spirit's life... but by cleaning up the details, eliding past major characters and oversimplifying (admittedly more gracefully than others) the development of ideas like Chanel's exposure to fine tailoring, the little black dress or the use of jersey, the film does itself, and the viewer, a disservice. It's Chanel reimagined for the small, independent arty film... and that's fine for what it is... but Chanel's life was, in many ways, bigger than that. It was opera, it was theater, it was big budget cinema. Shrinking it... tends to shrink the possibilities.

Director and cowriter Anne Fontaine clearly sees the feminist elements at work here, and more than previous attempts, Coco Before Chanel notes the pioneering role Chanel had in redefining the possibilities in women's lives, especially the possibility that a woman can lead her own, independent life, without marriage or other traditional notions, as a man would. And Fontaine does better than many French directors at balancing the need to keep the story coherent while showing considerable artistry. The film soars, in part, because it doesn't succumb to the American need to hammer home every development with an exclamation point... it trusts our ability as an audience to figure some things out.

Though the ending can seem tacked on, I think it was also vital - seeing Chanel, as she became, giving one of her later fashion shows ensconced, as she was, on the stairs of her shop in the Rue Cambon, makes clear what the early going, by itself, cannot: that you couldn't do what she did, without the life she led. I believe that's true, and I wish, still, someone would take on Chanel as she deserves to be taken on - courageously, ruthlessly, demandingly... and big. A lovely, gentle bonbon of a film, Coco Before Chanel hints at the possibilities... but only hints. Think bigger.

The Place You Come From

My own sense of things is that if liberals want to complain about the conservative rejoicing about the Olympics... it would help if you actually a) like the Olympics and b) are the sort of "America first" person who thinks we deserve everything just because we're us.

In the short term, I think the decision by President Obama to go and try and cajole the IOC to choose Chicago will do deserved political damage - it was an overconfident, mistaken choice, and the failure to close the deal reflects on him personally - but in the long run, there won't be a story come 2016 about Chicago... but there will be plenty of discussion of the wasteful expense of the Olympics in Rio, and the devastating poverty which remains in Brazil.

The Olympic story used to be a remarkable, one world vision of how we could all get along; that started to fall apart in the eighties, partly due to the Cold War gamesmanship of the US skipping Moscow in 1980 and Russia skipping LA in 1984... but it's also a tale of the rise of corporate interests, the killing of "amateur" sport, and excessive media hype. The idea of an Olympics in Chicago - and we should remember, Bloomberg tried to sell the idea of proposing New York for similar reasons - was not, necessarily, about the idea of universal brotherhood through sport; it was a crass collection of dubious notions that a large scale event of that sort could jump start an economy, create jobs, and make Chicago a world class city (moreso than now). The most compelling alternative all along - Rio di Janeiro - always had the more emotional, reasonable story: the Olympics have never been held in South America, Rio is alrady the kind of city that has broad international appeal, and their economy might, actually, get some long term benefits.

That the Chicago folks - and the White House - willfully ignored those realities, speaks volumes.

Saturday Singalong: Seven The Hard Way

Keeping with the musically themed elements of my anniversary week (whoo!! It's like being on a cruise!), I thought this week's songs should come from a place of personal satisfaction - songs from the top 25 of my iTunes.

One of the reasons I love my iPod and iTunes is that it tracks, obsessively, just what I play most. And, like American Top 40, I like the idea that my top 25 stays fluid, and different things rise to the top. Partly, I've managed that because first my computer died and then my iPod died, and both times I lost the count that had built up. But the distance between by top song (30 plays) and my lowest (14), is small enough that a few extra listens will change everything.And my tastes, as I like to point out... are pretty eclectic.

These 7 are not the first seven... but they are in my top 25.

• Wendy Phillips, Stay. I found this track on a random dance collection I purchased (for the remix of Let Me Love You, which I also love), and it has stuck in my head ever since. I carry on my iPod a playlist called "Walking" which is my general walkaround music, and this song is always included (which is why it remains at #1). As far as I know, there;'s nothing else by Phillips that's ever caught my attention.
• Sara Bareilles, Love Song. This too, I just decided to like when I first heard it - the choppy piano arrangement, the uncomprmising lyric ("I won't write you a love song, cause you asked for it, cause you need one... you see?"), and Bareilles, no nonsense delivery. Unfortunately, most radio stations play a horribly chopped up condensed version... so I have to go back and play the real thing.
• Tavares, Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel. So here's a story: I'm walking through Central Park one day, and there's these puppeteers working, four African American guys with bird puppets. And they launch into a perfect lip-synch of "heaven Must Be Missing An Angel" where the lead bird fins audience members to sing it to, with three backup birds. The guys are dead serious. The birds are amazingly cool. And the song,,, is Heaven Must Be missing An Angel. You can't really mess that up.
• New Found Glory, It's Not Your Fault. I found this one via MTV, with a well done, but somewhat exploitative (see how long it takes the girl to get dressed compared to the guy) video. Later, when I listened to the lyric, I realized it was a bit darker than the video... but mostly, I like this sort of New Teen Rock - MTV and the labels have been turning them out like clockwork (see below, or see several others, like All American Rejects), and it's nice to see pop and rock find a coexistence that doesn't require heavy metal or excessive eyeliner. Just four dudes in t-shirts who should be in college, going to class. What can I say... I like dudes. :) Especially ones who can play.
• Boys Like Girls, The Great Escape, and Boys Like Girls, Love Drunk. Another pop/rock band of similar MTV ready form, distinguished by especially tuneful arrangements and well sung leads. The Great Escape is especially full of teen escapism ("cause we are finally free... tonight.") which is how it wound up appealing to my still rebellious ears. But the new album is pretty swell too, and Love Drunk ("I used to be love drunk, but now I'm hung over... I loved you forever, but now it's over") lives up to the promise, and makes for a fun kiss off song to boot - kind of what AAR's "Gives You Hell" wants to be, but misses.
• Kylie Minogue, Better the Devil You Know (The Mad March Hare Radio Mix). If you're still saying "isn't she the one who did the Locomotion back in the nineties"... boy are you late. Kylie is huge... everywhere but here, first as bubblegummy pop star (with Brit superproducers Stock Aitken Waterman) then on her own as a still evolving versatile dance artist - who, as I keep saying, is the one pushing folks like Britney and Madonna to keep up with her hold on international dancefloors. Better the Devil You Know is one of her last hits with SAW, from the early nineties, when they were desperate to keep her, and they really put their all into it, and so did Kylie. I've loved it ever since I first danced to it. Still do.
• James, Sit Down. This is an example of one of those more recent discoveries that just leapt up my pop chart - I was listening to Virgin Radio via the web, and this damned catchy britpop tune came on... and I had to e-mail the deejay to find out what it was. This was it. This was a hit for James - a fairly well known British band - back in the nineties, and the line I think that stuck it for me was "if I'd never seen such riches... I could live with being poor" which has found deeper resonance, for me, in these harder exconomic times. Sit down next to me... sit down in sympathy. Very nice.

Friday Evening Floralude

jinb
 

Anniversary Waltz: The Worst Songs, Ever

It seems like a fitting moment to draw together a bunch of posts that date back almost to the beginning. When I was sitting in a MacDonald's in Somerville, Mass, being assaulted, as one can only be in a fast food emporium, with bad Bryan Adams, I never intended for the thing to take on a life of its own. Over time, I've come to appreciate the effort, energy, and passion behind The Worst Song Ever. It's work, you suffer for it (and through it)... but that glimmer of recognition, the "yes, oh my God, do you hate that too?" moments of shared loathing... these are the things that connect us, bring us together. As only listening to the worst songs can. :)

To honor my third anniversary... the playlist so far. While we began with an idea of ranking them... that never quite happened (and I blame you - because you were supposed to vote, and you never did. Yes, I mean all of you). So, in lieu of actual rankings, we have them in random, but numbered, order. They're all bad. Why pick? 

And who knew we had so many?

To kick things off... let's add one more:

1. Boston, Amanda. I thought I already did. But as it turned out, I always promised, but never delivered. And there's just so much here - there's the soppiest of bad lyrics ("I'm gonna say it like a man, and make you understand... Amanda". Run, girl, run), there's the bad power rock Boston always represented... and then there's the fact that this was Boston reuniting and attempting a comeback... as if we'd ever missed them to begin with (and yes, I like "More Than A Feeling"... but it's hardly essential). Thanks to the reunion and a zealous record promotion department, Amanda came to stay on pop radio, and wouldn't leave... for months, and months. Thankfully, because Boston isn't taken too seriously, this no longer clogs up classic rock radio, and because Boston is too rock for today's soft pop stations... it tends to miss the mix "of the eighties, nineties... and today!" blather of Lite radio, too (remember... this is worst song ever... not worst Radio Station ever). Let's hope it stays in music purgatory... but it probably won't. And now... on with the countdown...
2. Starship, We Built This City. Of course.
3. Morris Albert, Feelings. Whoa, whoa, whoa... no seriously. Whoa.
4. Starship, Sara. "Storms are brewing in your eyes"... is that even physically possible?
5. Gerardo, Rico Suave. "I eat 'em raw, like sushi..." nuff said.
6. Justin Timberlake, Sexyback. Whether it left or not is not the issue. It's because the man who brought the sexy, you child, is Prince.
7. Madonna featuring Timbaland and Justin Timberlake. Four Minutes. And you can't bring sexy back to her, either.
8. Madonna, American Pie. The destruction of the best pop song, ever.
9. Beyonce, Deja Vu. Of a number of not tuneful, not songs she's managed to shake into the top ten, this one is especially incoherent.
10. Cascada, Evacuate The Dance Floor. Stop, this song is killing me.
11. Aaron Carter, Oh Aaron. Oh dear.
12. Plain White T's, Hey There Delilah. Run, baby, run. Don't ever look back.
13. Plain White T's. 1-2-3 (I Love You). Don't worry... be happy.
14. Feist, 1 2 3 4.
15. Nickelback, If Today Was Your Last Day. If only.
16. Gillian Welch, I Wanna Sing That Rock And Roll. Then, go.
17. Miley Cyrus, The Climb. There's always gonna be another ballad...
18. Kool and the Gang, Celebration. Shome On.
19. Wang Chung, Everybody Have Fun Tonight. For forced frivolity, not "everybody wang chung tonight."
20. Black Eyed Peas, I Gotta Feeling. Whoo-hoo.
21. Hall and Oates, Maneater. Sexism, in its pure form.
22. Kings of Leon, Use Somebody. ...rather than... assault somebody's ears.
    
23. Air Supply. Every Woman in the World. N'est ceci mi fantasie.
24. Aerosmith, Don't Want To Miss a Thing. Oh, but I do.
    
25. A Fine Frenzy, Almost Lover.
26. Laura Branigan, How Am I Supposed To Live Without You.
27. Feist, So Sorry.
28. Ray Parker, Jr., Gohstbusters.
29. Michael Jackson featuring Siedah Garrett, I Just Can't Stop Loving You. Try. Please.
30. Michael Damian, Rock On.
31. Rick Springfield, Don't Talk To Strangers. 
32. Bryan Adams, Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman. ... Really? Have You? Ever? Really Really?
33. Simple Minds, Don't You Forget About Me. Because it's my list, and I loathe it. And I'm not too keen on Breakfast Club, either.
34. Earth Wind and Fire, That's The Way of the World. Hearts of fire... create love desire... oh God, I'm going to be sick.
35. Michael Bolton, How Am I Supposed To Live Without You.
36. A Fine Frenzy, Near To You.
37. Neko Case, I Wish I Was The Moon.
38. Eric Clapton, Wonderful Tonight.
39. Bob Seger, We've Got Tonight. Let's make it end... let's find a way.
    
40. Neil Young, After The Gold Rush. And no, I don't hate all Neil Young... I'm sure there's something...
41. Def Leppard, Love Bites.
42. Calexico and Charlotte Gainsbourg, Just Like A Woman.
43. Toto, Rosanna.
44. Corinne Bailey Rae, Daydreamin'.
45. Diana Ross. I Will Survive. I was petrified, too.
46. Barbra Streisand. Woman in Love.
47. Mariah Carey, Obsessed.
48. Marcia Griffiths, Electric Boogie. A/K/A The Electric Slide.
49. Kenny Rogers and Sheena Easton, We've Got Tonight.
50. Manheim Steamroller, Deck The Halls. A reminder that we probably need a Chrstmas special Worst Song List.
51. The Honeydrippers, Sea Of Love. I do not hate all supergroups... but most of them.
52. Sergio Mendes, Never Gonna Let You Go (Joe Pizzulo and Leza Miller, vocals)
53. Tommy James and the Shondells, Mony Mony. Because really, you have to be drunk to not notice how dumb this is.
54. Billy Idol, Mony Mony. Because as bad as the original is, when Billy Idol says "I want to ride the pony"... you know it's not a horse. And... ew.

If you made it this far... man, you're devoted. Now, nominate some more. This can't be all of them. :) How about we finish up this anniversary party with The Macarena? Come ion... who's wth me? :)

3... in the family, that's a magic number

Three years. Today.

When I started blogging, I was living in Boston, not sure what I wanted to write... but convinced that I had to try.

A lot has changed, yet again - I'm no longer in Boston, or writing every day, perhaps not writing exactly all I'd like or as often as I'd like... but I'm learning, fitfully, to live with what I can accept, and accept what I can live with.

What went through my mind, today, was all the support and encouragement I've had from friends and family, and how, when I started, I was surrounded by friends who either didn't blog, or who occasionally blogged, as I did, alone and perhaps kind of quietly. Now, my blogger friend has her own paid gig, my best friend posts his pictures online, and my fashion friend made her own leap into blogging just this past month. I am pleased, and proud, to know all of them... and to believe in what they do, too.

This has not been an easy year - not personally, or professionally, or blogging. I went from a heady feeling of sudden promise - all because so many politically minded lefties found themselves fighting for Hillary Clinton - to a precipitous drop in readers, attention... and my own interest. The up and down nature of blogging, more than anything, caught me off guard. I am not big on self promotion - it violates my WASPy, inbred sense of decorum and good taste - and I can't write controversy for controversy's sake ("Roman Polanski is a fucknut who deserves to be thrown in prison!"... eh, not so much). And because of my inner reserve, and my reliance on closely held anonymity... I know I have to accept a certain sort of limitation of audience.

What I've learned, this year and in all the time blogging so far, is a life lesson in writing what I love. Writing for me takes a certain alchemy: in the right mood, with the right topic, and the right amount of time... I can turn out amazing stuff. Take away any of those elements... and I get a bit stuck.

For all the heartaches and reversals... there's never a moment - never, not one... literally, no seriously, literally - when I think "not writing" is the solution. Not doing this blog, just giving up... that's not an option. And what I've realized is that... I have to put this blog up there on my list of priorities. It's not an afterthought. It's the thing that gives meaning to who I am and all of the rest of what I do.

Sixteen hundred and fifty posts, More than 110,000 page views. More than 1600 comments. I can live with that, feel good about it. I've made a promise to myself that in the next few weeks I will reinvigorate my blog, all the elements that go into it, and recommit myself to my personal mission of doing this with passion (and as J and j know... energy, enthusiasm and purpose). I also promise, finally, to do the thing I promise every year... I am sifting through those 1650 posts... and finding ones that I am proudest to call Best of NYC weboy. If it kills me... and it just might.

And confidential to Tom Watson... I love you, man. Let's figure out how to reinvigorate NewCritics. :)

xoxo webo

You Better Work!

(This post was inspired by a post by my friend Red over at her Poverty Blog at Change.org... and expands - widely - on a comment I put up over there.)

Every so often, the left side of the blogosphere gets caught up in discussing the plight of American workers - how bad we have it, how much disparity we have in income (which is what happens when CEOs make multimillion salaries while hourly workers can get less than minimum wage), how bad our benefits are (health reform!), and how, compared to many countries, we get very little time off for vacation or illness.

I always have mixed feelings about these things - and the way America differs from other countries when it comes to notions of vacation and sick time. I think a lot of this is tied to our work ethic, and it's worth noting that people who have time available, often, rarely take it. And that, for many, the problem isn't time, and for businesses the problem isn't money... it's the question of who can do the task of another when that person needs to take time off.

The reason for problems in retail and food service around sick time is about carrying extra bodies - especially now, in a recession, when most retail operations are running close to the bone on staff, the question of a person calling out sick can mean havoc for those who are left. I've worked in department and specialty stores for a long time, and currently for Starbucks. Losing a worker to an illness or a long term outage of another sort deeply affects our ability to be fully staffed, and puts enormous pressure on the rest of our team... and ultimately, what suffers is our ability to provide good service, which leads to a bad customer experience... which leads to loss of business ("I tried to buy a blouse at Macy*s... and there were no cashiers!"). And so, very often, conscientious workers, even with illness, tend to show up. Sick time, in these cases, isn't necessarily all of the issue.

I also spent time as a worker in corporate HR, at a company with generous vacation, sick and maternity benefits (which tried, especially, to be family friendly, with sensitive policies for moms and dads). And, as often as not, our problems were as much about workers refusing to take time as it was workers who took too much - and a lot of time spent coaching managers that they could not set unreasonable time expectations for their teams based on their own driven workstyles. Even so, for many workers, there was still a problem of coverage and replace-ability; losing an assistant for days or weeks was simply putting additional work on other assistants with full workloads.  But the alternative - carrying extra staff - was not an option, either (and an unfamiliar, expensive temp also rarely afforded a good solution).

My point isn't to suggest that as a nation, we don't have a problem with sick time that deserves to be addressed; my point is that we have a complicated set of cultural norms and expectations around work in America that drive our policies and processes. Government mandates for sick time benefits (which will be hard to get past business lobbying anyway) do not guarantee that sick time will get taken, or that workers will feel less pressured to show up, even when ill. Changing that requires a longer, broader, cultural conversation around work, and our lives outside of work. We really don't have that conversation very much, I find. And we could certainly use it.

But I think to have that conversation, we also need to see a new paradigm develop, on the left, about how we talk about working, and workers. Since last year's election, with progressive ideas enjoying a fresh momentum, the discussion around labor issues has returned... well, to Big Labor. Despite the fact that the majority of Americans are no longer unionized - and many can't, or won't, wind up being unionized - the discussion of labor issues starts, on the left, often, from a place where unions are the first, best option. That protecting workers works best when the workers are united. It's lovely thinking... it's just not our reality.

After working on a Congressional campaign, my campaign manager boss wanted to run for City Council - which she did, ultimately, and won - and she started by sitting with her key staff and talking about what a run would take. One thing that came up, because she felt strongly about it, was that she wanted to be critical of the teacher's union, one of the most powerful in New York. And, ever the contrarian, I raised the traditional lefty point: how do you win by pissing off union workers? How can you say unions are bad?

As I said, she ran, and won... and she remained a vocal critic on education, and especially of the teacher's union... which, over time, managed to marginalize her and eventually get her off the Council. Which kind of proved my point. But over time... I've come to see hers.

I am not anti-union - no one, I think, can seriously claim true liberal or progressive thinking without supporting the notion of organized workers - but I think how we think about labor, labor organzing, and our working lives in America, has to change among liberals, and soon... or we can't make the kind of progress that needs, desperately, to be made. We need, as progressives, to understand and admit that  the interests of all workers and the interests of organized labor are not always the same. And we need to face up to the business realities that sometimes union rules and requirments can work against good business practices. And that includes popular unions like the Teachers, auto workers, and healthcare workers. The tension between what's good for unions, and what's good for other workers needs to be brought out into the open and examined... or we can't make further progress. For anyone.

And no issue reflects those tensions - our old labor thinking not fitting our current problems - than on questions like vacation and sick leave and other worker benefits. Thinking, simply, in terms of a government mandate to require the availability of time off won't get it done. Business interests are arrayed against it; but just as importantly, as I mentioned, the work we do, and how we think about it, colors how we approach using the benefits we already have, and what benefits we expect. More vacation time... will not mean more vacations. More sick time will not reduce our public health problems. Not until we seriously talk, in the culture, about a different idea for our work ethics, and a different approach to our working lives.

Health reform is another key example - unions, for instance, are not necessarily thrilled about plans to tax so called "Cadillac plans" that offer better benefits at increased cost; often because unions have managed to negotiate such plans for their workers (ah, being united might pay off in benefits? Who knew?). But more centrally, the problems we have with healthcare stem from 60 plus years of tying our healthcare benefits to our working lives; and perhaps the most problematic element of "reform" under discussion - and the least thought through - is that many of the reforms under discussion would further solidify, rather than reduce, our links between healthcare and employment. And in part, it's seeing that we link healthcare and employment... because we think pretty much everyone can, and should, be employed.

It fascinates me - much as it has my mother, in all of her professional life - that so much of who we are as Americans (that is, our working lives and how much who we are is tied up in what we do) is often talked about so little, and rarely with a clear eye for the work we actually do. We continue to talk, often, about work as if we are a country dominated by manufacturing and farming... when we are in fact a country dominated by service work, retail jobs, and white collar professions. We are more specialized, more productive because of technological advancements... and less able to replace one another mindlessly as we were on assembly lines and in the harvest (we think, in fact, of retail service work as mindless... when it's not). Until we can refocus our discussion of work on the work we actually do... I don't think we can figure out how to reshape our working lives. And more to the point... I'm not sure, culturally, that we actually want that. Until we talk about it, though... we'll never know.

How.... get back to work!