My wife and I decided upon getting married that we would do our damnedest to not fall into the roles of ‘husband’ and ‘wife’. Always aware of the role just waiting to be played, we refute. Can you guess what happened? It’s like we’re still dating. We’ve caught ourselves accidentally saying from time to time, “It doesn’t feel like we’re married, but I am still madly in love with you.”

I understand the ‘feeling’ of love matures and there are hundreds of books of various authenticity as to what happens, but here we’re talking about roles setup for us to play by society. Come to terms, realize your a fraud, and I guarantee you’ll feel like you just opened your eyes for the first time.

What roles do we play for each other as Americans? What is the show we are expected to play? And are we playing it well or even aware of the fact we’re playing a role at all?

Even when alone, Erving Goffman argues, there is no self, only socially constructed identity through roles created before we are aware we are playing them out.

What then is the liberation of a people? Is it the basic realization of this paradigm, or is it something more? Perhaps a redefinition of social roles is required and could spell anarchy if done in error. Or is the world in its current state of disarray due to the changing of social roles and many are still trying to play out the old ones?

Many publications have capitalized on the ‘can’t-miss’ ways for Americans to keep their jobs. A large portion of this has ended up in the self help aisle. What percent of our market is driven by products claiming to provide fulfillment in the role we’re supposed to be playing?

“Society is an insane asylum run by the inmates.” – Erving Goffman

The article goes on to say it could take years, even a decade! – if the effort succeeds at all!! but the need for less thirsty lawn is too great to ignore.

“Thirty years from now, it would be nice to say it really did pay off,” said plant geneticist Jason Goldman of the U.S. Department of Agriculture, who has already invested five years in his efforts to create a superlawn in Woodward, Okla.

Who are these people? I would like to invite them over for dinner and have a serious talk with these super scientists. I would like to look them in the eyes and thank them for dedicating resource, grants, and the time and misaligned hope of thousands to creating drought resistant grass we can all look at. I want to thank them for diverting the potential advance of cancer or water preservation research.

“My colleagues say I’m crazy,” Jim Baird said. “But it doesn’t hurt to dream.” Funny ol’ golfing Jim.

This man should be up for an award! Thank God he has been sent to us to save our grass lawns. Karen Kaplan, bless you for devoting your time to such an article that obviously will maybe have a major impact in our lives sometime in the possible never to come future.

Amer Picon Punch recipe:

• fill with ice
• 1 tsp grenadine syrup
• 2 1/2 oz Amer Picon® orange bitters
• fill with soda water
• 1 oz brandy

Fill old-fashioned glass with ice. Pour in grenadine and Amer Picon. Fill glass with soda, leaving room for brandy. Float brandy on top of drink.

It is fascinating to me when I come across a pocket of culture tucked away in the most unlikely of places. Can you think of any other cultures that go by unnoticed?

Che Guevara, Jim Morrison, John Lennon, Bob Marley, The Beatles — these are names that refuse to fade out. No generation gap can lower their popularity. They will always remain a symbol of youth.

I heard an interesting interview lately on Mohammed Ali’s recent trip back to Ireland. Apparently, his great-grandfather was Irish so he went to see where he was from.

Ali is 67 years old, severely disabled and can hardly walk or move about on his own. The interview brought up the opinion that some people wish they had not seen him in this state, that they wished they had not looked and kept him forever young in their mind. That people did not want to see their hero in such a crippled state and why must he keep touring like this, why can’t he just vanish into the fog of our memory of a cultural icon?

Ali, it seems, for the short term memory of the few that behold him in such a state, has lost his symbol of youth, his legendary power and strength attributed to his famous quote “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” This seems a cruel and unforgiving perspective, but it speaks to how much people dislike alterations in elements that have formed a part of their cultural identity. All the while, I laugh to think that Ali keeps touring around, reminding people of that very fact.

Good for you Mohammed.

A cowboy is an animal herder who tends cattle on ranches in North America, traditionally on horseback, and often performs a multitude of other ranch-related tasks. The historic American cowboy of the late 19th century became a figure of special significance and legend.

Such is the romantic idea of the American cowboy. Despite the cowboy’s deep historic roots tracing back to Spain, over the centuries the adaptive cowboy has transformed into an American icon, subject to a changing world and holding onto his identity.

I recently came across a website called the Pioneer Woman, the life and times of an extraordinary romantic frontier woman who values family, home education, and honest cooking. She’s a fantastic photographer to boot. It was on her website about her rugged cowboy husband that made me laugh. Women from all over are mad over the pictures of him roping cattle and covered in grit.

Today’s award goes to the American cowboy. May you be resilient and forever victim to a changing world around you.

I was reading an article tonight about Governer’s Island off of New York City. It was on what is to be done with the island and one suggestion was from Calatrava to put in a beautiful gondola. The idea was immediately dismissed, but it reminded me of another Calatrava article.

Not too long ago I was standing in line for US customs on the Canadian side in Ottawa International at 4:50AM and was introduced to this artist/architect. He is an inspiration, so I’d like to share with you a concept piece of his concert hall. Bravo!

Santiago Calatrava, Concert Hall (1999-2003), Tenerife, Spain. Courtesy Santiago Calatrava Archives.