Ed Burns, American writer

What is similar [in war] is the way people act, men in close quarters. It’s always us against them. The us becomes ever, ever smaller, and the them becomes the whole world. —Ed Burns, American writer

What is similar [in war] is the way people act, men in close quarters. It’s always us against them. The us becomes ever, ever smaller, and the them becomes the whole world. —Ed Burns, American writer

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

Robert A. Heinlein, American novelist and science fiction writer

“Love” is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. —Robert A. Heinlein, American novelist and science fiction writer

“Love” is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. —Robert A. Heinlein, American novelist and science fiction writer

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

Cleaning green

Type "green cleaners" into any online search engine and you’ll get links to sites giving you "recipes" for do-it-yourself cleaners to brand-name environmentally-friendly cleaners.

Although buying Earth-friendly brands like Simple Green are fine for the environment and maybe a more familiar buying process, they can be much pricier than chemical cleaners.

On the other hand, making your own green cleaners is cheap and just as, or even more effective than, using harsh chemicals and much better for your own health, too.

There are usually the same natural ingredients listed on most of the do-it-yourself sites:
1) white vinegar
2) hydrogen peroxide
3) baking soda
4) castile soap

White vinegar has many different uses. Combine it in a spray bottle with water and it’s a glass cleaner. It kills bacteria, so it can also be combined with the castile soap to clean countertops, floors, and toilets or to rinse dishes.

Hydrogen peroxide is a bleach alternative and non-toxic to the environment. Anything that usually takes bleach can be substituted with HP instead. HP is also an antiseptic that can clean superficial skin wounds, be used as an oral rinse to whiten your teeth, and work as a hair lightener. Combine it with baking soda and castile soap to clean and whiten the bathtub and sinks.

Baking soda is a gritty powder that can be used in places that need scrubbing. A very effective way to unclog drains is to combine one cup of baking soda and one cup of white vinegar to a pot of boiled water. It will fizz up when the ingredients are added, and that’s what will purge your drains of clogs. Pour it down the plugged drain, flush with water, and voila the drain will be miraculously unplugged. I actually used this as a last-ditch effort on a slow drain that has been backing-up for years. I had been using a chemical unclogger because it seemed so stubborn that only chemicals would unplug it.

Castile soap is a vegetable-oil-based natural soap. You can go one step further and actually make it yourself (there are lots of recipes online), but it’s usually reasonably priced. Dr. Bronner’s is a good brand that can be found online or at places like Trader Joe’s. This soap is used in place of other soaps, like dishwashing detergent, bathroom cleaner, laundry soap, and shower gel. I’ve read online accounts of people even brushing their teeth with the soap.

Some other green cleaning ingredients (that I haven’t tried but are also popular) are lemons and borax.

If you have chemical cleansers in the house, it’s best to use them up before you go green because if you throw them out, it’s just as bad for the environment as using them.

 

And not all your old standby cleansers are necessarily bad for the environment. Ivory Soap is pretty much natural and not bad for the Earth. Also look for words like biodegradable surfactants and anionic and nonionic on dish and laundry soap labels.

keeping the earth ever green 

 

Streethaiku

Street Haiku thumbnailSeeking the zen of the present moment.

[ Click here to view the image essay ]

 

An Xiao grounds her street photography in the aesthetics of haiku and Henri Cartier-Bresson, as she seeks the Zen of the present moment in the hustle and bustle of busy city streets. She refined her tastes for city imagery while living in New York, Los Angeles and Manila.

Her award-winning work has appeared with publications and galleries internationally and throughout the New York City area, including the dual-continent Circular Exhibition with Hun Gallery and Gallery Ho in Seoul, the Asian Contemporary Art Fair with Tenri Gallery, and the Brooklyn Museum. More information about An Xiao can be found at www.anxiaophotography.com.

 

What’s all in a word?

I didn’t really listen to what they were saying exactly, but my ears perked up when I heard one of the boys calling the other the N-word. To my knowledge, the context in which the often-offending word was said was not a negative one, but rather in reference to his friend. All the same however, I couldn’t help but take note of it and the black man standing by the education-prep books couldn’t help but glance either.

His cursory glance obviously made me think. Was he irritated by the boy’s obvious disregard for using such a contentious word, especially for someone who isn’t black, or did he merely peer at the relatively loud outburst amidst the quiet readers?

Despite my strong distaste for most politically correct terminology, I can’t help but find something wrong with the N-word. Maybe it’s because I’m a sensitive minority or I’ve been unconsciously brainwashed by society to feel that this word is an especially ugly one and should never be uttered by society (even though I have never been one to object to a substantial sprinkling of the word “fuck” in my daily vocabulary).

When I bring it up to my black friends, they generally respond with indifference when a black person chooses to include the term, but if a suburban, fourteen-year-old white kid utters it, then it’s clearly a problem. Or is it only a problem when a so-called dumb white kid samples it for their liking, but it’s tolerable if New York City “urban” Hispanic kids consider it worthy of their sentences? Frankly, I wouldn’t blame black people for being annoyed. I liken the N-word to the Fubu of the English language; you know, “For us by us.”  In a sense, I get it. Black people drummed up a unique word solely for their culture, and they certainly don’t want anyone stripping it from them.

In another sense, I’m just confused. How could a word have created such controversy? I, myself, have never said it and never plan on saying it; not because I think it’s taboo, but rather out of respect for black history. However, plenty of my non-black friends randomly pepper their daily conversation with it.

Honestly though, does it even matter? It’s just one word lost among the millions of other problematic phrases in our society. Or is this issue with the N-word actually a much larger problem we face in today’s environment because it further segregates what is supposedly black and what is supposedly part of the other? Isn’t the point of diversity and globalization and living in 2008 to view the inhabitants of this planet as people, not as parallels established via color?

Either way, every time I’m presented with this argument, I rarely find a reasonable explanation concerning this vocable perplexity. In a perfect world, we all would just ridicule those who quantify and categorize every example concerning color or ethnicity. But until then, we’ll just have to settle for semi-inane blogs posted by curious rabble-rousers. 

 

Study: Mice who stop drinking booze swim less

Actually, the study claims to show a relationship between abstinence from alcohol drinking and depression, but what about those poor mice?

Medical research owes much to the mouse, that wee rodent that is more guinea pig than guinea pig, standing in selflessly (if unwillingly) on behalf of human beings in countless lab experiments that palpitate, penetrate, irradiate, and incinerate it in the name of science. Apparently, the mouse is an excellent surrogate for us humans across a wide variety of physiological measures.

All this said, this study, which examines the effect of ending alcohol consumption in mice, made me laugh. The study authors argue that their research shows a "causal link between abstinence from alcohol drinking and depression." I'm sure a good deal of the theoretical complexity behind this research got lost in the write-up, but I found it hilarious that we can infer this "causal link" in human beings by seeing whether mice who stop drinking can swim in a beaker of water. (It's called the Porsolt Swim Test.) Those mice who just float without swimming are deemed depressed. No word on whether they subsequently get therapy or AA.

I also love the name of the center responsible for this study, the "Bowles Center for Alcohol Studies." It sounds like a fun place to work: beer pong every Friday?

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

Onward, Christian soldiers

I was disturbed by this report that a former Baptist, now atheist, soldier is alleging discrimination in the Army because of his beliefs. He served two tours of duty in Iraq, but he claims he was ostracized and even threatened after he refused to pray with other soldiers.

 

I was disturbed by this report that a former Baptist, now atheist, soldier is alleging discrimination in the Army because of his beliefs. He served two tours of duty in Iraq, but he claims he was ostracized and even threatened after he refused to pray with other soldiers.

After decades of virulent racial segregation, the U.S. military has won an admirable reputation for creating esprit de corps across ethnic and racial lines, and has made recent strides in extending equality to women servicemembers (its intolerance of gays and lesbians in uniform, of course, is a different matter). In any case, you'd think the military would know better not to discriminate based on religion, if only to avoid the public perception, particularly in the Middle East, that America is a Christian nation waging a war against Islam. It doesn't help that a group like the Officers' Christian Fellowship, which has representatives "on nearly all military bases worldwide," has made it their mission to "raise up a godly military," whatever that means.

When I was watching that series Carrier, I found the segment on religion particularly interesting, because evangelical Christians clearly dominated (well, there was a Wiccan group) and I got the sense that sometimes officers led prayers that everyone was expected to follow. It made me wonder how atheist soldiers got along with the rest of the crew. (Of course, the discrimination that believers face in many secular settings is worrisome, too. But hopefully there are fewer guns and bombs involved.)

Religiously inclined soldiers can take solace in their faith after going through the hell of armed combat, and surely that's why there are so many chaplains in the ranks of the military. Yet, if I were a man of the cloth (for the sake of argument), I wonder what would be going through my head as I blessed soldiers going off to kill the enemy. That "Thou shalt not kill" business in the Bible seems rather clear. When asking for God's help, it's probably best not to ask for things He doesn't much care for, like killing. And you know the other side is praying hard, too; asking God to take sides in a fight is like asking a parent to choose between her kids.

It reminds me of what Lincoln said during the Civil War when he was asked by a group of leaders to join them in prayer that God be on the Union's side. He answered, "Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side, for God is always right."

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

The politics of Pringles

I was hungry the other day at the pharmacy (never a good idea), and so I bought a can — okay, two cans — of Pringles. Then I read today that the makers of Pringles successfully argued before a British tax court that the Pringle is not a potato chip.

 

I was hungry the other day at the pharmacy (never a good idea), and so I bought a can — okay, two cans — of Pringles. I know they're horrible for you. A telltale sign of poor nutritional value is a perfect, recurring shape not found anywhere in nature, and the Euclidean geometry of a Pringles chip is rightly described as supernatural. But, in my lightheaded state of hunger in that store aisle, I reasoned that any sane person, if posed with the choice between a Twinkie and a Pringle, would choose the chip, which in its defense has a color resembling potato, and not the unholy yellow gleam of a Hostess sponge cake.

Then I read today that the makers of Pringles successfully argued before a British tax court that the Pringle is not a potato chip. It has a potato content of 42 percent. The rest is corn flour, wheat starch, rice flour, and a host of other substances concocted by modern-day alchemists probably working out of a lab in New Jersey.

Procter & Gamble, the maker of Pringles, made an eloquent case on behalf of their product's unwholesomeness. (The corporation petitioned the court to get out of paying a British sales tax levied on food products.) The Pringle, said one lawyer, does not taste like — or "behave like" — a crisp (the British word for chip). "It has none of the irregularity and variety of shape that is always present in crisps. It has a shape not found in nature, being designed and manufactured for stacking, and giving a pleasing and regular undulating appearance which permits comfortable eating."

It is never a good sign when your food is in the same sentence as the word "manufactured." The word "undulating" should also raise hairs on the back of your head.

The lawyers for the non-chip chip went so far as to suggest in court that most shoppers didn't think of the Pringle as a potato chip (in spite of the fact that, at least in the U.S., the can clearly says "potato crisps" — as you can see in the photo above). This begs the question, "What on God's earth do they think it is?"

Perhaps the Pringle is an example of what Michael Pollan calls "edible foodlike substances." A Pringle is not real food, but an amalgam of food and various artificial dyes, flavors, and preservatives. It's unclear what some of these synthetic substances do to the body in the long term. Recently, a watchdog group called for the banning of artificial food dyes because of research that suggests they contribute to attention and hyperactivity problems in children.

Pollen advises people to buy food from the edges of the supermarket — from the aisles with refrigerated meats and dairy and unprocessed fruits and vegetables — since everything in the middle is not perishable, and therefore laced with preservatives. The pharmacy where I bought my Pringles probably counts as such a dead zone.

Maybe the makers of Pringles should have just taken the sales-tax hit and left us chip eaters in blissful ignorance. What will we as a society do, without our edible foodlike substances?

I think I'll go have some undulating chips now.

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

The art of conservation

    Oil may be the foundation of our economy, but water is the foundation of our lives. The average human can go weeks without food, but just a few days without water can mean death. Yet, like oil, our water resources are shrinking. One in six people today lack access to clean drinking water. While hotels in Las Vegas build fountains in the desert, a child dies of a water-related illness every 15 seconds.
    And things are getting worse, not better. The world’s population grows, living standards rise, and global water usage skyrockets. Middle classes expand, but carbon emissions increase, the earth warms and deserts spread, as the Sahara has over northern Africa. The wars of today may be fought over oil, but the wars of tomorrow will be fought over water.
    As with all of our resource shortages, the solutions to any impending water crisis lie in both conservation and innovation. We must seek to both reduce our consumption and develop technologies to allow fewer resources to serve more people. As is often the case, it makes sense to combine both the conservative approach of saving water or energy with a liberal approach of spending money on technological development. The devil, of course, is in the details. 
    In The Coney Island of Gregory Kiss’s mind, Michael Thomas Tedder writes of how one such innovative technology, photovoltaic glass, is being used at the new Stillwell Avenue Subway Terminal at Coney Island in New York. The architect, Gregory Kiss, uses the project to demonstrate that solar power can be both environmentally and fiscally sound, disproving not only political conservatives, but also traditional progressives, who are also inclined to think of solar power as expensive.
    Conventional wisdom holds that the Democratic Party has a lock on the African American voting bloc. Because of this, both parties write off the group’s vote and consequently ignore African American issues. Keli Goff’s Party Crashing: How the Hip-Hop Generation Declared Political Independence, reviewed by our book editor Amy Brozio-Andrews, explores how conventional wisdom might be wrong.
    A disenfranchised electorate can speak to the frustration inherent in politics. Emma Kat Richardson tells of her frustration in attempting to visit the heart of American politics, Washington, D.C., in her essay District of despair. A self-described "political junkie," Richardson’s love of the political process is palpable in her impassioned account.
    Pris Campbell explores how love is a self-conserving force, staying with us in fragments and images long after a relationship has died, in her series of poems entitled Romance and reminiscence. Her poetry is accompanied by artwork by Mary Hillier. 
    In Streethaiku, An Xiao uses the poetic form to inspire a photo essay that, like its namesake, uses a small part to suggest a larger whole. The images discard what is not necessary and capture the essence of their subject, and nothing more.
    Just as an old love can burn brightly for decades or a political voting bloc can be taken for granted for a generation, the power of conservation can dominate our lives in both positive and negative ways. Conservation can mean preserving something valuable, like oil, water, culture, or tradition, or it can mean clinging to old ideas for no more reason than they are what our parents and grandparents believed. The art of conservation is in determining how to strike a balance that maintains the good aspects of conservation while avoiding the bad.
    We hope that you enjoy this month’s issue. Thanks for reading!

I am a writer/editor turned web developer. I've served as both Editor-in-chief and Technical Developer of In The Fray Magazine over the past 5 years. I am gainfully employed, writing, editing and developing on the web for a small private college in Duluth, MN. I enjoy both silence and heavy metal, John Milton and Stephen King, sunrise and sunset. Like all of us, I contain multitudes.

 

The Coney Island of Gregory Kiss’ mind

An architect’s futuristic dream of solar power realized.

 

On the roof of Gregory & Paul’s hotdog and beer stand is a statue of a paunchy man giving the thumbs-up. He’s holding a hamburger so faded one suspects it was fresh off the grill 30 years ago. The man is covered in graffiti, and so is the old-fashioned rocket ship with which he shares the roof. Back in the day, it would not have looked out of place in a Flash Gordon serial; today its blue and red paint has faded, and its white spots are splattered with yellow rust.

The sign on the top of the beer stand says “Astroland Park,” a reminder of a time when Coney Island was somebody’s idea of the future. Though the area has currently lost its former space-age shimmer to time’s onward march, it still inspires futuristic thinking — and not just the thinking that has it slated for massive commercial renovation in the coming months.

Day-trippers and beach-lovers have been visiting Coney Island for centuries, and in 1864, the West End Terminal, the area’s first train station, opened. But at the beginning of the 20th century, as Brooklyn grew in popularity, the New York City authorities and the Brooklyn Rapid Transit Company had the West End Terminal demolished and rebuilt with the most innovative, flexible transportation technology available, including a then unheard-of eight tracks and four platforms.

The new station, named the Stillwell Avenue Terminal, opened on May 29, 1919. Shortly afterward, Surf Avenue’s bustling boardwalks and amusement parks, like Steeplechase Park and Luna Park, made Coney Island one of the most popular vacation spots in all of New York; at the height of its popularity, the area had more than a million visitors a day.

Over time, Stillwell has grown into the largest above-ground terminal in New York City and one of the largest in the world. And since its 2005 renovation and reopening, it has become the first and biggest solar-powered terminal in the world, says Gregory Kiss of Kiss + Cathcart, Architects, the architectural firm that helped plan the reconstruction.

Kiss, a skinny man with a calm, professor-like demeanor, walks along the bridge that links all four platforms, pointing with pride to the panels above him. Kiss and his company worked with the New York Transit Authority to design and build the 80,000-square foot terminal shed that covers the platforms like a stadium dome.

In many ways, the Stillwell Terminal feels like the first attraction that subway users see upon arriving at Coney Island. The platforms are constructed with faded periwinkle- and white-colored steel, and are markedly free of the grime and graffiti coded into the DNA of the New York subway experience. Yet the disembarking teenagers and nuclear families rarely pause to look upward at the roof’s phalanx of panels, as such gawking is for tourists, and there are beaches, myriad forms of deep-fried batter, and the Cyclone to attend to.

If they did look up, they would see a ceiling composed of 2,730 five-by-five panels, which are two layered sheets of industrial glass that have sandwiched between them two squares and two rectangles of semitransparent photovoltaic glass. The intersecting lines between these sheets form crosses of light when looked at from below. 

Photovoltaic glass is a type of solar cell that captures the energy of the sun and converts it into direct current electricity. Kiss estimates that there is more than 50,000 square feet of it in the shed. “In most ways, they really are the best source of energy, period, because they are solid state with no moving parts, no emissions of any kind, and they produce the most energy when you need it the most — typically, in the middle of the day,” Kiss says. “This is the biggest project in the world that uses this kind of technology, integrated into a building structure.”

The shed’s solar panels represent the successful union of architectural design and fuel efficiency. They are also very, very shiny. The silvery glow of solar cells make the terminal feel like something more akin to Disney World’s Epcot and Tomorrowland amusement parks than the nostalgic charms of Coney Island. When viewed up close, a vantage point made possible by the nearby Wonder Wheel Ferris ride, the ceiling resembles a mirrored disco ball that has been unraveled and fashioned into an airplane hanger. Taken in as a whole from 150 feet in the air, the terminal and the rest of Coney Island’s attractions seem symbiotically out of time: Astroland Park and the rest of Coney’s attractions a living postcard from half a century gone by, and the terminal shed an image that arrived a few years ahead of everyone else’s schedule.

Construction time again

Last year, the New York state government announced the “15X15” plan to reduce electric energy usage in New York by 15 percent by the year 2015. The plan seeks to address the rising cost of energy by reducing the state’s reliance on fossil fuel–burning power plants. The “15” initiative calls for an increased investment in clean power options and greater energy efficiency, two areas Kiss understands well.

Kiss, 49, was born in Toronto but grew up in New Jersey around Princeton. He received his bachelor’s from Yale and his Master of Architecture from Columbia University. In addition to authoring technical manuals for the Department of Energy, his lectures on advances in solar technology and how they can be used with architectural design have taken him across the globe, and his projects have been developed everywhere from Panama to Native American reservations.

He moved to New York to study architecture in 1981, and in 1983 his newborn firm had its first commission: to design a solar panel manufacturing factory. Ever since, he’s had an interest in integrating solar technology and efficient energy practices into architectural design.    

His firm has constructed a number of environmentally forward-thinking projects in the city, including the sun-fueled, self-sustaining Solar One community education center by the East River. The center, which resembles a suburban home outfitted with a downward-facing, panel-lined roof, teaches energy conservation techniques to New York students and residents, and also hosts dance and film events.

In 1998, Kiss and his company were hired by the New York Transit Authority to help revitalize the dilapidated Coney Island Terminal. Though the area was synonymous with the Roaring ’20s, after World War II it struggled to remain relevant. The area faced competition from Jones Beach, as well as the rising popularity of then-burgeoning entertainment options like television and air-conditioned movie theaters. In 1946, the popular Luna Park closed after being ravaged by fire, and Steeplechase Park closed in 1964 following a series of accidents and the rise of crime in the area. By the 1970s, the area had become so deeply synonymous with drug- and gang-related crime, much of it linked to notorious low-income housing projects like Surfside Garden, that commercial developers were wary about investing in the area. By the 1990s, the once mighty Coney Island shrank to just four blocks of roller coasters and shows, with The New York Times reporting more than 50 unoccupied lots in the area.

Kiss remembers visiting Coney Island when he first moved to New York in the early ’80s. Back then there were hypodermic needles in the sea and fear in the air. And it only got worse as years of saltwater-infused air, as well as citywide neglect, accelerated the rust and decay of the platform’s metal.

Physically, the terminal was close to collapsing. “It was pretty scary. The steel columns down below these tracks and in many other places were corroded away to almost nothing, so there was some degree of danger there. It had to be replaced,” Kiss says. “This was an expensive project, not the sort of thing you do lightly, but as a matter of safety, it had to be done.”

Kiss + Cathcart was hired to create a new ceiling. The terminal once had individual roofs over each platform, but the Transit Authority wanted a giant roof that covered all of them. It had to be aesthetically pleasing, it had to be durable, and it had to be low-maintenance and easily fixable. Also, it would be nice if the structure could multitask.

“They thought, ‘well, this station has been here for almost a hundred years, and it will hopefully be here for another century or more.’ They have very long planning periods,” Kiss says, “and they figure that it might as well be generating electricity as it’s sheltering the station.”

Kiss and his team worked with the Transit Authority to integrate the energy-saving photovoltaic glass into the structure, and designed it with a state-of-the-art, silver and glass retro-futuristic look that would blend in well when subway passengers viewed the terminal on the same horizon as Coney Island institutions like the Wonder Wheel and the Cyclone. The firm took care to use recycled steel and aluminum, and Kiss even designed the roof to have wires that delivered a mild shock to keep birds from nesting on it.

Although they came to Kiss wanting a forward-thinking structure, the Transit Authority still had to be convinced that the project could actually work. “[We had to] show them why this makes sense and why this is not a finicky, scary, fragile technology, and why it is very reliable, and how it can be done in a way that if something does go wrong, it can be fixed.

“One of the most satisfying things to me was really the process of dealing with this very large organization that, for very good reasons, tends to be very conservative, and working through the process of educating them and understanding their needs,” he says. “It affected the design a lot; we did a lot of work and made a lot of changes to make this a very user-friendly, maintainable facility and so on.”

Power, houses

The total rebuilding of the terminal cost $250 million, some of which is returned in the form of energy savings.

The sunlight collected by the photovoltaic glass is fed into a conversion device that creates alternative current electrical energy, which is then fed into the grid for the entire station, including the main office, police stations, and underground lights. None of the collected energy is used to fuel the actual subway trains, as Kiss says that utility companies are very strict about how much power can leave an installation, and the Transit Authority prefers to sidestep the issue by keeping the energy within the local grid. “The power that is generated is used within the system,” he says.

“Another way to look at it — this project is unusual and it’s hard to get your head around it — this station produces enough electricity to provide all of the electricity for about 33 average single-family houses in this part of the country,” he says. “Total, per year. It’s a significant amount of energy.”
                       
Green days

Because of the difficulty of efficiently transporting electricity into the city from outside the city, 80 percent of the energy for New York City is generated by fossil fuel–burning power plants within city limits. These power plants contribute to unwanted citywide pollution, so Kiss thinks it’s only a matter of time before every city-owned structure that has sunlight falling on it will be outfitted with solar cells.

“The sun is giving off about probably 850 watts per square meter of energy, and it’s basically going to waste right now,” he says. “All it’s doing is heating up the sidewalk.
 
“In fact, it’s worse than that, because in most cases city buildings with a black roof, the sun is heating up the roof, heating up the building, and we are cranking up the air conditioner to counteract that. So we’re wasting all that energy, and there is an enormous capacity to harvest and use this energy in a very positive way in the city.”

There are several ways of getting power from the sun: Solar thermal power stations use sunlight and mirrors to heat up a liquid that drives an electric generator. But photovoltaic cells are the most popular form. Though solar panels have existed since the 1800s, the first solar cell was patented in 1946 by semiconductor researcher Russell Ohl. The company for which Ohl worked, Bell Laboratories, discovered that certain forms of silicon were markedly sensitive to light. The company was the first to create a device to harness energy from the sun; it had an efficiency of around 6 percent. Driven both by America’s space exploration efforts and the gas crisis of the 1970s, the technology continued to slowly grow in efficiency, popularity, and affordability, but has yet to achieve widespread household acceptance.

Even today, many think that solar panel technology, especially photovoltaic glass, is too exotic, too expensive, and not ready for mass use. Kiss wants to prove that cutting-edge technology and innovative design can fit into a reasonable budget.

“There is this sense among a lot of people, even environmentalists, that ‘yeah, solar is great, it’s expensive, but we shouldn’t even worry about the cost, we should do it anyway,’” he says. “I find that kind of an unfortunate attitude. By doing things like [Stillwell], you can make the technology much more economical than it would otherwise be. It is a struggle, but that’s not a reason not to do it.

“You don’t see more of this because of a lot of different reasons, none of which is a very serious issue in and of itself,” he says. “Technically, obviously it can be done. It can be made quite economical. There are regulatory issues, building code [issues], but those things can all be overcome.”

Whether out of concern for the environment or the bottom line, there is no doubt that the construction industry is showing an increased awareness of environmentally responsible building principles. In 2006, the Chicago-based Mintel International Group Ltd. estimated the green marketplace to be worth more than $200 billion. Chief executive officers (CEOs) are paying attention. According to a recent study conducted by PricewaterhouseCoopers, 61 percent of executives who responded said it was important that their companies take steps to reduce their environmental impact.

One organization helping companies do that is the U.S. Green Building Council, a nonprofit environmental organization that works with businesses to promote energy efficiency. Spokesperson Ashley Katz says that 39 percent of total energy consumption and 39 percent of harmful carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions come from buildings in metropolitan areas. The council helps companies reduce their energy use by showing them how to rely on windows instead of indoor lighting and how to install energy-saving air-conditioning units, among other techniques.
 
“I attribute it to a lot more awareness of climate change and global warming, whether it be Al Gore’s documentary [An Inconvenient Truth] or people learning more about the issue,” Katz says, “but I think right now this is a big time to be green, and people are really seeing that they need to step up to the plate in order to make a difference and turn back the clock on global warming.”

Show and prove

Kiss’ design has already saved the Coney Island Terminal both financially and in terms of CO2 emissions. And while architectural design that integrates photovoltaic technology could potentially help reduce electricity costs and harmful emissions across the country, Dr. Edward Kern of Irradiance, Inc. cautions that solar panel–integrated design is far from a quick fix for all of America’s power and pollution issues.

Kern has been working on the development and deployment of photovoltaic systems for close to three decades. A past president of the Solar Energy Business Association of New England, Kern and his company help to create commercial photovoltaic installations, and designed and executed many aspects of the Stillwell Terminal design.

Kern points to “incredible year-over-year growth” of 40 percent for companies that make solar cells as proof of the technology’s increasing acceptance. But he warns that it is best to take the development with measured enthusiasm, as the technology can reduce carbon emissions, but will not be able to completely replace the current means of producing electricity.

“It’s definitely a step in the right direction. The more solar you do, the better,” he says. “But it’s not something that’s going to end coal tomorrow and save the world.”   

Kern points to the technology’s limitations, one of which is the finite amount of energy that panels can provide relative to an area’s electricity needs.

“If you look at the electricity consumed per square mile and the amount of sunlight falling on that square mile, for New York, that ratio … is a very large number compared to rural areas,” says Kern, adding that even if it were theoretically possible to put solar panels on every square mile of the city, “solar alone for New York isn’t going to do it. You’re going to have to bring in energy from the surrounding land.”

In addition to concerns about how much energy can be generated, Kern also believes that the other main obstacle to solar technology catching on in American cities is its cost-effectiveness. While solar cells cost about $4 a watt, coal, which he says is still the most commonly used fossil fuel, only costs “about $1 or $2” a watt. A power source’s dollars-per-watt ratio is determined by dividing the cost of the source by its rated energy output. For example, Kiss says that a panel that produces 200 watts and sells for $600 has a ratio of $3 a watt.

When solar panels first became commercialized in the 1950s, the cost was usually thousands of dollars for one watt, says Kiss. These days, prices are holding steady at $4 a watt, as booming demand for solar panels in Europe and Asia is keeping prices high at the moment, he says. But he’s encouraged by reports from solar technology developers First Solar, which is currently developing a thin-film photovoltaic cell that he says will be “approaching $1 a watt fairly soon.”

At that point, it’s unclear whether people will take to the change and how much energy solar panels will truly be able to provide, as even experts in the field cannot agree on just what can be reasonably expected of photovoltaic technology.

But it is clear that as proud as Kiss is of the energy saved by the terminal he designed, he thinks the greatest achievement he made at Coney Island was showing that large-scale,  environmentally friendly, solar-powered buildings can not only be achieved, but can be practical and economically feasible.

“The general awareness of people that ‘yes, solar is great but it belongs in space,’ or ‘it’s going to be another generation,’ it’s just a lot of stuff like that adds up to a big obstacle,” Kiss says. “But there’s no inherent reason there shouldn’t be a lot more of this. And there will be — it’s just a question of time.”

 

District of despair

For some, Washington, D.C., considered the capital of the free world by many, is all about missed opportunity.

Washington, D.C., is, to date, my greatest failure. My Waterloo. More aptly, perhaps (if you want to remain on the firm soil of American history), my Bunker Hill. 

To those unlike me, D.C. isn’t a site of lost opportunities, but instead stands tall as the capital of the free world — a shiny beacon of white, pristine hope, symbolic for those wishing to flee from tyranny and seek out more fruitful pastures. Even in the face of multiplying criticisms and America’s perceived antagonism in the arena of world politics, millions around the globe still look upon the city’s magnificent landscape and see the representation of lofty achievements and dreams that can be accomplished from very little — or, more often, nothing — returning their longing gaze. D.C., with its air of inherent optimism, is many things to many people.

But to me, it represents failure.

No, I’m not concerned about the uncertain swampland of its foundation, nor plagued by its notoriously oppressive summer heat; it’s not even the inadequacies of the fumbling judicial system that leave me feeling on edge. Rather, it’s the fact that I’ve been to this city-state four times and have yet to actually see or set foot upon anything touristy, noteworthy, historically significant, or otherwise. The Capitol Building? Washington Monument? White House? Nope. On four consecutive occasions, these tributes to democracy have eluded me with the swift, lethal precision of a top-tier CIA agent.

The first time I ventured forth into the District of Columbia was in eighth grade, when a seriously flawed plan to send 200 suburban Detroit middle-schoolers to Washington, D.C., for only one day was conceived and executed. Over the course of a single 18-hour period, every member of Anderson Middle School’s eighth-grade class piled into a charter flight, which appeared to be on par with the Wright brothers’ plane in terms of safety features, and set forth, bound for our nation’s capital. Upon landing, we spent the day learning what the district looked like from the inside of a tour bus, whizzing along at 70 miles per hour. For an uncommonly generous allotment of 45 minutes, we were allowed to teeter on the edge of Arlington National Cemetery, which was, on this particular day, roped off and closed to the public, due to an elaborate military ceremony which would probably have been interesting to watch, had we been allowed within 80 feet of it. Without any historical context for the site or ceremony imparted upon us by our chaperones, we let our inquisitive eyes fall over the closed gates, and the agenda pressed onward.

The next stop on our itinerary, naturally, included a quick interlude for some regional food at Taco Bell, followed by four hours of sitting in the lobby of the Smithsonian, waiting for the chaperones to regroup and, more than likely, figure out how to cast their charges as liars when the story of their ineptitude eventually made its way back to the parents. By the time we flew back to Detroit that evening, I was already drafting a complaint letter to my congressman about the abysmal state of public education in this country.

So it was that inaugural foray into D.C. that set the precedent for repeated disappointments. I returned to Detroit feeling angry, frustrated, deceived; utterly betrayed by what was supposed to have been a whirlwind tour full of sightseeing and wonder. As a child, I had grown up worshipping the aura of D.C.: Both of my parents were — and still are — active political junkies, and my little brother and I lived in a household where MTV was forbidden, but the personalities on Capitol Hill and National Public Radio were revered as demigods. From the time I could start stringing sentences together in my mind, I idolized political nerd-icons like John Adams, Thomas Paine, and especially the man on the money, Benjamin Franklin. In school, I continually impressed my teachers and befuddled my classmates with my ability to drop names like Newt Gingrich and Walter Mondale into casual conversation.

Washington, D.C., was therefore something I felt entitled to. It was always supposed to be mine — setting foot upon the same city where so many great leaders had lived and governed was not just my privilege, but my God-given right. Yes, to my 12-year-old self, I had been endowed by my creator with certain unalienable rights, and the most valuable of these was to visit D.C. — I was the girl who would have far preferred the license to vote over that to drive.

Years later, putting aside my battered feelings of rejection, I decided to attempt a calculated foray into D.C. again at the age of 21, but this time, on my own grown-up, self-mandated terms. My second trip to the District took place during the summer of 2006, when I traveled by Amtrak to visit a close friend who was working in the city for the National Breast Cancer Coalition as an unpaid intern. Seeing as how summertime in D.C. is about as climate-friendly as a hot tub on Mercury, we could barely manage to coax our sweat-stained flesh out of bed each morning, let alone go out and see the sights. Alas, my desperation to traverse hallowed ground could not match my lust for the arctic blast of air-conditioning. The closest encounter I had with an authentic D.C. experience occurred when Danielle, my friend’s ultra-right-wing roommate (for whom Hitler would not have been conservative enough), participated in a number of antagonistic staring matches with my Seven Sisters college-attending, rugby-playing, woman-loving friend. These showdowns happened while Danielle was in the midst of preparing to go see Sean Hannity deliver a speech — although, according to Danielle’s plaintive whines, poor Sean’s political views just didn’t make the “conservative enough” cut. (Perhaps he and the Führer could have, in an alternate universe, commiserated over beers together.)

Trip number three to D.C. only served as a stopover on the way to New York City. As I watched its tantalizing skyline rush by through the tinted windowpane of a Chinatown bus, I shook my head in disbelief that my favorite city — by proxy — was yet again slipping through my fingertips. It was like digging through an overflowing goldmine and not being able to clasp the riches within the clench of my palm. Another gold rush, vanishing into the horizon like a dreamy, beautiful mirage. I was an eager miner without a prayer.

Trip number four occurred on Groundhog Day, 2008, just after Punxsutawney Phil disappointed millions by seeing his shadow and thus selling far fewer novelty beer steins than usual. The purpose of this fourth and as yet final trip was to see two of my favorite stand-up comedians — Michael Ian Black and Michael Showalter — perform live on a double bill at a historic synagogue on I Street. While I have yet to set foot on Capitol Hill or see the likeness of the Lincoln Memorial depicted on anything other than a snow globe, I am proud to say that the historic — it’s historic! — I Street Synagogue has felt the tread of my foot and has been absorbed by my tourist’s eye. And while the evening ended on a decidedly happy note, I could not help but pay acknowledgement to the familiar sensations of disappointment and loss that always seemed to accompany any association I might have with the city itself. Yet again, I had approached the heart of D.C. only to be turned out at the last minute — an outcast lost among insiders. Perhaps it was my lot to be a continual immigrant — not crossing from one country to another, but still hoping against hope to slip through the invisible threshold undetected. For the fourth time in my scant 23 years on earth, I had found myself on the wrong side of the deportation proceedings.

Washington, D.C., has thwarted my efforts of exploration four times. Each journey leaves me feeling unfulfilled, wasted, and spent, but yet I continue to remain completely enthralled by the city’s imposing presence. It has failed me as much as I have failed it, but I somehow manage to abide by a strange sense of optimism, in the hopes that one day I will achieve my American dream and conquer the mystical city. Someday, I will make the long-overdue pilgrimage to reclaim what is mine — what has always been mine since the days of my childhood. Modern America may sport a reputation for brutish arrogance and impatient action, but perhaps those who judge us as hotheaded have forgotten that nearly a decade elapsed before independence was obtained from Britain. If our founding forefathers could wade through indecision, treason, war, and suffering, then surely I can remain faithful until the District is ready to embrace me.

These days, whenever I encounter D.C.’s iconic image, emblazoned with hope before my eyes, I turn eastward and punctuate the atmosphere with my determined fist, saying “You will be mine. Someday, you will be mine.”

 

Independents’ Day

Keli Goff’s Party Crashing: How the Hip-Hop Generation Declared Political Independence takes a look at the evolution of the African American vote.

 

In her lively and engaging book Party Crashing: How the Hip-Hop Generation Declared Political Independence, Keli Goff asserts that America’s political parties ignore the new reality of the post-civil rights generation black American voter at their peril. Citing economic and social influences that have shifted dramatically in the last 40 years or so, Party Crashing explores how a once-unified voting bloc of African Americans that may have been loyal Democrats has evolved into today’s generation of young African American adults who refuse to allow either party to take their votes for granted. While Democrats may assume they’ve got the African American vote locked up, Republicans assume the same, and the result is a population that remains disenfranchised.

Surprised by the results of a 2001 Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies poll, which showed 35 percent of African Americans aged 18 to 35 identified themselves as politically independent and 62 percent self-identified as Democrats, Goff worked with the Suffolk University Political Research Center to conduct another study in 2007. Curious as to whether the strong showing of independents in the original survey was a fluke or a reflection of real change within the black young adult community, the new poll queried 400 randomly selected African Americans, aged 18 to 45 (expanding the upper limit to include those who would have been eligible for participation in the first study). Among those asked, 35 percent of respondents 18 to 24-years-old self-identified as independent voters, and  41 percent of respondents self-identified as registered Democrats, but would not call themselves “committed Democrats.”

Intrigued by these results, Goff took her research directly to young African American adults for their thoughts on the relationship between skin color and voting preferences, and how and why it may have changed since their parents and grandparents’ generation.

Chapter by chapter, Goff examines the role of churches in African Americans’ historically strong ties to the Democratic party; the concept of black leadership in America and what that means, both within and outside the African American community; and Democratic and Republican political missteps in national, state, and local elections past. Goff complements her research study with a cultural analysis of Chris Rock’s stand-up comedy and Bill Cosby’s The Cosby Show, conversations with post-civil rights generation African American voters, and additional interviews with General Colin Powell, hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons, Bakari Kitwana (author of The Hip Hop Generation), Republican and Democratic Party officials, and more. The result is engaging, entertaining, and eye-opening.

Throughout the book, Goff returns time and again to the argument that the social and economic influences that supported young black Americans’ parents’ and grandparents’ allegiance to the Democratic Party have evolved. This generation of African Americans, born within the last 40 years, does not have the same first-hand experience with the civil rights era that their parents and grandparents had. There has been, in general, a generational shift that reflects increased tolerance of social issues, such as gay marriage. Also, the growing number of African American families in the middle and upper classes of American society has influenced their voting interests to weigh economic factors like tax policies more than ever before.

The end result is the fragmenting of a once-cohesive voting bloc. Independent-minded young African American adults are more likely to carefully question what a candidate and his or her policies can do for them instead of voting along party lines. Goff’s book demonstrates clearly that young African American voters firmly believe that candidates and parties must actively court their vote, and not just in the weeks before an election.

As with most politically oriented books, especially those published during an election cycle, the time is of the essence, and that’s true with Party Crashing. A few of the details Goff explores in her book have been resolved. For example, the contest between Illinois Sen. Barack Obama and New York Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton has been resolved, with Sen. Obama the presumptive Democratic nominee. However, the big picture — the fact that the votes of young black Americans, either as a group or individually, cannot be taken for granted by any candidate of either party — is a valid one, worthy of discussion for the 2008 election and beyond.

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