Thursday, March 19, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
What the World Needs Now
Just read this article and this is exactly what our world desperately needs. What a brilliant example and standard this man has set, coming together rather than dividing, this is how Zion is built.
It was the kind of meeting that is taking place in restaurant kitchens, small offices, retail storerooms, and large auditoriums all over this city, all over this state, all over this country.
Paul Levy, the guy who runs Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, was standing in Sherman Auditorium the other day, before some of the very people to whom he might soon be sending pink slips.
In the days before the meeting, Levy had been walking around the hospital, noticing little things.
He stood at the nurses' stations, watching the transporters, the people who push the patients around in wheelchairs. He saw them talk to the patients, put them at ease, make them laugh. He saw that the people who push the wheelchairs were practicing medicine.
He noticed the same when he poked his head into the rooms and watched as the people who deliver the food chatted up the patients and their families.
He watched the people who polish the corridors, who strip the sheets, who empty the trash cans, and he realized that a lot of them are immigrants, many of them had second jobs, most of them were just scraping by.
And so Paul Levy had all this bouncing around his brain the other day when he stood in Sherman Auditorium.
He looked out into a sea of people and recognized faces: technicians, secretaries, administrators, therapists, nurses, the people who are the heart and soul of any hospital. People who knew that Beth Israel had hired about a quarter of its 8,000 staff over the last six years and that the chances that they could all keep their jobs and benefits in an economy in freefall ranged between slim and none.
"I want to run an idea by you that I think is important, and I'd like to get your reaction to it," Levy began. "I'd like to do what we can to protect the lower-wage earners - the transporters, the housekeepers, the food service people. A lot of these people work really hard, and I don't want to put an additional burden on them.
"Now, if we protect these workers, it means the rest of us will have to make a bigger sacrifice," he continued. "It means that others will have to give up more of their salary or benefits."
He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when Sherman Auditorium erupted in applause. Thunderous, heartfelt, sustained applause.
Paul Levy stood there and felt the sheer power of it all rush over him, like a wave. His eyes welled and his throat tightened so much that he didn't think he could go on.
When the applause subsided, he did go on, telling the workers at Beth Israel, the people who make a hospital go, that he wanted their ideas.
The lump had barely left his throat when Paul Levy started getting e-mails.
The consensus was that the workers don't want anyone to get laid off and are willing to give up pay and benefits to make sure no one does. A nurse said her floor voted unanimously to forgo a 3 percent raise. A guy in finance who got laid off from his last job at a hospital in Rhode Island suggested working one less day a week. Another nurse said she was willing to give up some vacation and sick time. A respiratory therapist suggested eliminating bonuses.
"I'm getting about a hundred messages per hour," Levy said yesterday, shaking his head.
Paul Levy is onto something. People are worried about the next paycheck, because they're only a few paychecks away from not being able to pay the mortgage or the rent.
But a lot of them realize that everybody's in the same boat and that their boat doesn't rise because someone else's sinks.
Paul Levy is trying something revolutionary, radical, maybe even impossible: He is trying to convince the people who work for him that the E in CEO can sometimes stand for empathy.
- Kevin Cullen, Globe columnist cullen@globe.com
It was the kind of meeting that is taking place in restaurant kitchens, small offices, retail storerooms, and large auditoriums all over this city, all over this state, all over this country.
Paul Levy, the guy who runs Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, was standing in Sherman Auditorium the other day, before some of the very people to whom he might soon be sending pink slips.
In the days before the meeting, Levy had been walking around the hospital, noticing little things.
He stood at the nurses' stations, watching the transporters, the people who push the patients around in wheelchairs. He saw them talk to the patients, put them at ease, make them laugh. He saw that the people who push the wheelchairs were practicing medicine.
He noticed the same when he poked his head into the rooms and watched as the people who deliver the food chatted up the patients and their families.
He watched the people who polish the corridors, who strip the sheets, who empty the trash cans, and he realized that a lot of them are immigrants, many of them had second jobs, most of them were just scraping by.
And so Paul Levy had all this bouncing around his brain the other day when he stood in Sherman Auditorium.
He looked out into a sea of people and recognized faces: technicians, secretaries, administrators, therapists, nurses, the people who are the heart and soul of any hospital. People who knew that Beth Israel had hired about a quarter of its 8,000 staff over the last six years and that the chances that they could all keep their jobs and benefits in an economy in freefall ranged between slim and none.
"I want to run an idea by you that I think is important, and I'd like to get your reaction to it," Levy began. "I'd like to do what we can to protect the lower-wage earners - the transporters, the housekeepers, the food service people. A lot of these people work really hard, and I don't want to put an additional burden on them.
"Now, if we protect these workers, it means the rest of us will have to make a bigger sacrifice," he continued. "It means that others will have to give up more of their salary or benefits."
He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when Sherman Auditorium erupted in applause. Thunderous, heartfelt, sustained applause.
Paul Levy stood there and felt the sheer power of it all rush over him, like a wave. His eyes welled and his throat tightened so much that he didn't think he could go on.
When the applause subsided, he did go on, telling the workers at Beth Israel, the people who make a hospital go, that he wanted their ideas.
The lump had barely left his throat when Paul Levy started getting e-mails.
The consensus was that the workers don't want anyone to get laid off and are willing to give up pay and benefits to make sure no one does. A nurse said her floor voted unanimously to forgo a 3 percent raise. A guy in finance who got laid off from his last job at a hospital in Rhode Island suggested working one less day a week. Another nurse said she was willing to give up some vacation and sick time. A respiratory therapist suggested eliminating bonuses.
"I'm getting about a hundred messages per hour," Levy said yesterday, shaking his head.
Paul Levy is onto something. People are worried about the next paycheck, because they're only a few paychecks away from not being able to pay the mortgage or the rent.
But a lot of them realize that everybody's in the same boat and that their boat doesn't rise because someone else's sinks.
Paul Levy is trying something revolutionary, radical, maybe even impossible: He is trying to convince the people who work for him that the E in CEO can sometimes stand for empathy.
- Kevin Cullen, Globe columnist cullen@globe.com
Saturday, March 7, 2009
a camera with no name
Stopped by Deseret Industries this past week, hoping to find something special, and behold, in their secured glass display case was percisely what I was hoping for, what appeared to be a 35mm holga like camera for 4 bucks. I was so excited. It's pretty basic, no focusing, 4 apertures 6, 8, 11, 16 and a hot shoe for a flash. Here's a self-portrait from the very first roll of film I shot on my new no name camera.
Then I thought to take my chances in the record department. I've been wanting a copy of Madame Butterfly and again, I struck gold, a gorgeous instrumental recording for 25 cents. I've been listening to it pretty much non-stop the past few days. The following piece is Un bel di vedremo. About 3.5 minutes in and you'll feel it, makes your heart sink in and explode at the same time.
Then I thought to take my chances in the record department. I've been wanting a copy of Madame Butterfly and again, I struck gold, a gorgeous instrumental recording for 25 cents. I've been listening to it pretty much non-stop the past few days. The following piece is Un bel di vedremo. About 3.5 minutes in and you'll feel it, makes your heart sink in and explode at the same time.
Once
One of the great things about low budget films is, they feel true. When I watched Once for the first time, nothing about it felt contrived or even created, it had all the vunerability we humans have. This video montage is b.e.a.u.t.i.f.u.l.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Iconoclasts
One of my favorite shows to watch is Sundance's Iconoclasts. It's a real pleasure to see a bit into the worlds of people I admire and respect, their philosophies, hopes, the things they hold close.
I love what Eddie Vedder said about music and it's affect on the passage of time, I think we all can attest to this, it's what makes music as amazing at is.
I love what Eddie Vedder said about music and it's affect on the passage of time, I think we all can attest to this, it's what makes music as amazing at is.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Marianne
"What is it that you think about, Sleeping Beauty, as you ride along the country lanes on that skinny mare of yours? And not so much of a beauty either, come to think of it. Too skinny, too pale, too dull. Not a glimmer of sparkle in those big dark eyes. Still, I do wonder, when you're riding past the hedges, little dreaming you are watched, I wonder what exactly it is you go out for. What sort of things are going through your mind? You look straight ahead, far into the distance and I wonder, do your thoughts travel that far too, or do they stay close to home, wrapped up in yourself?"
"So ran the silent thoughts of Pierre Andre as he watched Marianne Chevreuse slow her horse to a walking pace. Passing under the walnut trees and reaching the river, horse and rider broke into a trot and, at a bend near some boulders, disappeared out of sight."
Read the book Marianne while riding the bus across town today, could not attempt to write words deserving and so I leave it to Flaubert who wrote these words to George Sand -
"Thank you from the bottom of my heart, chere maitre. Thanks to you I have just spent the most exquisite day. Marianne moved me deeply and two or three times I found myself weeping. I saw a lot of myself in Pierre and some pages could have been excerpts from my own memoirs if I had talent enough to write like that. It's so charming and poetic and true. You see how happy you have made me? But then you've never done me anything but good and I love you most tenderly..."
I came upon George while watching the movie Children of the Century. I adored hearing the words shared between two lovers, particularly being the beautiful authors George Sand and Alfred de Musset.
"So ran the silent thoughts of Pierre Andre as he watched Marianne Chevreuse slow her horse to a walking pace. Passing under the walnut trees and reaching the river, horse and rider broke into a trot and, at a bend near some boulders, disappeared out of sight."
Read the book Marianne while riding the bus across town today, could not attempt to write words deserving and so I leave it to Flaubert who wrote these words to George Sand -
"Thank you from the bottom of my heart, chere maitre. Thanks to you I have just spent the most exquisite day. Marianne moved me deeply and two or three times I found myself weeping. I saw a lot of myself in Pierre and some pages could have been excerpts from my own memoirs if I had talent enough to write like that. It's so charming and poetic and true. You see how happy you have made me? But then you've never done me anything but good and I love you most tenderly..."
I came upon George while watching the movie Children of the Century. I adored hearing the words shared between two lovers, particularly being the beautiful authors George Sand and Alfred de Musset.
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