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I have been proud to work for the business school at the University of Chicago since I started there not long before September 11, 2001. As an administrator myself, I greatly enjoy watching our leadership—especially our deans—in action. Not only are they superb scholars and teachers, but they are also gifted in the art of human, fiscal, and physical resource management. Yesterday, the school made history because alumnus David Booth (MBA '71) and his young family gave the school an astounding $300 million unrestricted dollars. Not only is this extraordinary because of its scale—three times that of the next largest individual gift to any business school (Standford, $105 million)—and not only because Mr. Booth has already given $10.5 million to our institution, but because he gave it at what may well be the nadir of a global financial crisis. This means that as the monies are invested wisely—and they will be —they stand to grow many-fold as the world rises out of the depths of recession (or depression). Needless to say, this has put all of us, even those whose stake in the school—now, and rightly so, the Chicago Booth School of Business— is unlikely to benefit directly, in a buoyant, optimistic frame of mind. This, combined with Obama's unquestionable victory, makes the future uncommonly bright.
Tony Hillerman’s books are extraordinary not because of their entertaining stories, though they are that, nor because of his lovable, fallible characters, which they are, but because of their setting among the Navajo peoples of the American Southwest. The Navajo (Dineh, or Diné) are major players in New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah. Today they are most populous of tribes and their reservation covers the largest territory, crossing three state borders. Their cultural origins and the timing of their arrival in their present day lands are quite different from those of the other nearby Native cultures, and as historically semi-nomadic raiders, they had a very strong impact on the sedentary farmers in the pueblos all around (and within; Hopi territory today is entirely encircled by the Navajo reservation). They are known the world over for their creative artisanship, particularly for stunning woven wool rugs and exquisite silver and turquoise jewelry. The larger world deserves accurate information about their contemporary lives (above and beyond code-talkers), and Tony Hillerman always meticulously represented them with respect and honor, and in ways that educated the non-Navajo reader gently but firmly. The Navajo returned the honor, recognizing him as a Special Friend of the Dineh.
Something one might question about Hillerman’s fiction, however, is the degree to which tribal law officers’ jobs fill their lives with rewarding mental challenges and fulfilling resolutions. Of course, there would be no story if brilliant, danger-tinged mystery-solving were not what his beloved characters, Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn and Officer Jim Chee, did for a living. But I have to admit, I got a good laugh out of my friend LK’s reaction when I asked her last summer what her husband, a tribal policeman in a large pueblo sandwiched between the main Navajo lands and a small bit of additional Navajo territory to the east (To’hajiilee) along old Route 66/Interstate 40, thought of Hillerman’s books. Her dear husband RK, a career cop on their reservation, works the graveyard shift these days, and, between hours of boredom and paperwork, deals mostly with drunk teenagers and vandalism, terrible gun and vehicle accidents, road closures in dangerous weather, and, on a good day, nothing worse than petty theft at the convenience store. It’s one of those reliable, steady livings that can be hard to come by in rural areas like theirs. LK, a modest and wise person, just groaned a little at the thought her husband’s job might be like a Tony Hillerman novel. Well, OK, so her sister, BK (whose husband is not in the police business), let out sound a little more like a snort when the subject came up.
Nonetheless, I greatly treasure Hillerman’s stories and am sad that he moved on to the afterlife last week. Here’s a wonderful (in spite of the insipid native flute soundtrack that doesn’t even match the player’s fingering, yet another of my “pet media peeves” for another blogday) LA Times video about him with a good accompanying article about his lifetime achievements.
The photo is a detail of my Navajo rug, woven by Clara Jim from Rough Rock on the Navajo reservation.
Back about mid-summer of 2006, when gas prices at the pump (seemed to have) hit real highs—around three-and-a-quarter a gallon—for the first time, I distinctly remember commenting to someone filling his tank in the lane opposite mine, that "someday we will think this is a cheap price for gas." A nice guy, he went along for the laugh but it was apparent that he didn't get it, and thought I was nuts for suggesting that gas could get any more expensive. I'm here to tell you, in October of 2008, that day came just about two weeks ago, when gas in Chicago went back down to $3.25 after peaking more than a dollar higher, at $4.39 a gallon for regular. I admit I haven't done my part to slow demand for oil in the form of jet fuel (too many trips in too short a span of time, from every perspective), but I don't use my car much. It's a VW Jetta, more than five years old, and it has just over 17,000 miles on the odometer. Of course I'm lucky, I live in a city where excellent public transportation is abundantly available, and when I do drive, most destinations aren't very far away. I can and do walk lots of places. My heart goes out to friends who live in truly rural areas, who have no options other than to use their car.
3 eggs, separated 1/2 pint whipping cream 1 tsp vanilla 1 TB Knox gelatin 1/2 cup granulated sugar 1 oz brandy 1 oz rum
Beat yolks until light yellow, add sugar gradually and beat until creamy; add brandy and rum. Beat egg whites until stuff; beat cream until firm enough to stand in firm, shiny peaks. Add vanilla. Meanwhile, soak gelatin in 1/4 cup hot water for 5 minutes, then stir over hot water until gelatin dissolves completely. Stir dissolved gelatin into egg yolk mixture, fold in beaten egg whites and whipped cream. Chill. That is, chill the mixture. Eat it, and you, too, shall chill. Pious angel indeed!
I experienced the most wonderful pang of nostalgia today, so delicious I intentionally prolonged it by doing a little online searching. Serendipitously, I came across an image of Elsie the Cow, Borden milk products' long-time mascot, bringing to mind happy hours collecting Borden’s ads from my mother’s Ladies Home Journals and McCall’s in the 1950s. How I wish now those had been kept, as the artistic cartoony images, full of color, motion and frantic humorous activity, were nothing short of glorious.Elsie, ever and always sporting her necklace of fresh black-eyed Susans, her hubby Elmer the bull, and kids (calves?) Beulah, Beauregard, Larabee and Lobelia, were the very epitome of the ideal family from the 1930s at least through the 1950s when I was smitten. Elsie even had very shapely, if slightly hairy, legs. These thoughts make me long to have in hand one those magazine pages again, to inhale its inky fragrance, touch its shiny slickness, and to revel in the lush pictures of happy bovine home life. Searching ebay for “Elsie Borden” turned up 105 hits, including many print ads that I’m tempted to buy, like a drug to soothe an old addiction, and several Elsie dolls, none of which exactly matches my memory of a similar toy I forgot I had ever had to treasure. I’m not the only one who looks back on Elsie’s hayday (no pun intended, of course) as halcyon. Memorabilia in fine condition commands a fine price in the early 21st century. One unspeakably sad thing about having a grown-up perspective on all this is that I now know what goes in to making Elmer’s Glue-All. I wonder if Elmer knew that when he took the job as spokesbull for Borden’s glue products?
I'm sorry I can't credit the source of the image; it appears in many places on the internet.
You know, Natalie Dessay really belongs on this list of best-evers, too. She was the terrific eponymous soprano in Lyric Opera of Chicago's production of Massenet's Manon this season. She was an amazing Morgana in Lyric's 2000 production of Handel's Alcina as well. I think if I had it to do all over again I would come back as a coloratura soprano. Or it would be nice if I were at least able to carry a tune in my next life.
My thanks to Opera Chic for the sensational image.
I have been proud to work for the business school at the University of Chicago since I started there not long before September 11, 2001. As an administrator myself, I greatly enjoy watching our leadership—especially our deans—in action. Not only are they superb scholars and teachers, but they are also gifted in the art of human, fiscal, and physical resource management. Yesterday, the school made history because alumnus David Booth (MBA '71) and his young family gave the school an astounding $300 million unrestricted dollars. Not only is this extraordinary because of its scale—three times that of the next largest individual gift to any business school (Standford, $105 million)—and not only because Mr. Booth has already given $10.5 million to our institution, but because he gave it at what may well be the nadir of a global financial crisis. This means that as the monies are invested wisely—and they will be —they stand to grow many-fold as the world rises out of the depths of recession (or depression). Needless to say, this has put all of us, even those whose stake in the school—now, and rightly so, the Chicago Booth School of Business— is unlikely to benefit directly, in a buoyant, optimistic frame of mind. This, combined with Obama's unquestionable victory, makes the future uncommonly bright.
