Moral Inventory
It is fortunate that we can think in secret, because our thoughts would quickly get us in trouble if others could read them. In our thoughts, we can choose what we wish to reveal to others before we speak or act.
In the long run, however, we do not really conceal our true thoughts and feelings. The nature of our thoughts shapes our character and becomes part of us. It even affects our appearance. It is not difficult at all to identify people who are fearful, angry, or jealous.
This process has its good side, because kind thoughts and feelings also affect our appearance, and in positive ways. Norman Vincent Peale wrote that "God runs a beauty parlor," meaning that plain people with gracious thoughts tend to become more attractive as years wear on.
As AA members, we need not fear our own thoughts and feelings if we are continuing to work the program. As the sober years stretch out, we will be improving our thoughts and feelings, and this will tell others what the program is doing for us and through us.
I'll remember today that I don't really keep my thoughts and feelings secret. I will think well of myself and all others. I know that there are no hidden thoughts in the long run.
Quotes of the week
You have to be able to center yourself, to let all of your emotions go... Don't ever forget that you play with your soul as well as your body.
~Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
Meditation of the week
It was during this week in 1873 that Levi Strauss and Jacob Davis received a patent for work pants reinforced with metal rivets, the pants that came to be known as "blue jeans."
But the story of blue jeans began about 500 years ago, in the port city of Genoa, Italy, where a special thick cloth was used to make pants for fishermen and sailors in the Genoese navy. The cloth came from the Italian town of Chieri, a town known for its weaving and textiles. The fabric started out brown, but was eventually dyed blue with gualdo, or wode, a plant that was popular for its blue dye before indigo. The pants were designed to be heavy-duty, to stand up to wet and dry, to roll up easily when the deck got wet, and to be quickly removable if the wearer fell overboard. Our term "blue jeans" comes from a bastardization of the French "bleu de Genes," or "blue of Genoa." In 2009, Genoa held a three-day conference celebrating their role in the history of blue jeans.
But the fabric that Levi Strauss ended up choosing was serge, from the city of Nîmes, in France. It may have been copied from the Italian version, or it may be a similar fabric that was created independently, but it was this "serge de Nîmes," that Strauss chose for his pants, and "de Nîmes" eventually turned into plain old "denim."
Levi Strauss was an immigrant from Bavaria, born Loeb Strauss in 1829. His family had a dry goods business, and when he was 24 years old, he saw an opportunity in the California Gold Rush and headed west. He had some canvas that he had intended to use for wagon covers and tents, but when he discovered that the men out there had trouble finding sturdy work pants, he started making pants out of canvas. And when he heard that the pants were good but they chafed, he switched fabric, to the "serge de Nîmes."
One of his customers was a tailor named Jacob Davis, from Reno, Nevada, who bought cloth from Strauss and sewed his own work pants from it. Davis had heard from customers that the pockets kept ripping, so he had the idea to reinforce them with metal rivets at their weak points. He decided that he should get a patent for this idea, but he didn't have enough money. So he wrote Strauss and asked if he would be interested in sharing a patent for sturdy work pants with metal rivets, and Strauss agreed. On this day in 1873, the two men received U.S. Patent No. 139,121 for "Improvement in Fastening Pocket-Openings."
By the 1920s, jeans were the most popular men's work pants, although still used only by laborers — with one notable exception being the Santa Fe Artists Colony, whose members wore blue jeans in the 1920s as an artistic statement. In the 1930s, Hollywood Westerns portrayed cowboys in jeans, and they became a novelty fashion item for East Coasters who went to dude ranches. During World War II, jeans were considered suitable work pants for both men and women to wear in factories. For women's jeans, the zipper went down the right side instead of the front.
The 1950s saw the biggest change for jeans, as they became a teenage status symbol. James Dean wore jeans in Rebel Without a Cause, and along with leather jackets, they became the quintessential clothing of bad boys and juvenile delinquents. Jack Kerouac wore blue jeans and work shirts as early as the 1940s. In the late 1950s and into the 1960s, jeans became the outfit of choice for bohemian artists, preferably with a black turtleneck and sandals. In 1960, the word "jeans" was finally used in advertising (teenagers had been using it for years). By the late 1960s, bellbottom jeans were taken up by the flower children of the counterculture, and by the 1970s they were a staple of mainstream American culture. And there are some people who can always wear jeans — John Grisham said: "Writers can wear anything. I could go to a black-tie dinner in New York City with blue jeans on and boots and a cowboy hat and a bow tie, and people would just say, 'Oh, he's a writer.'"
Poem of the Week
First Year Teacher to His Students
Go now into summer, into the backs of cars,
into the black maws of your own changing,
onto the boardwalks of a thousand splinters,
onto the beaches of a hundred fond memories
in wait, where the sea in all its indefatigability
stammers at the invitation. Go to your vacation,
to the late morning cool of your basement rooms,
the honeysuckle evening of the first kiss, the first
dip and pivot, swivel and twist. Go to where
the clipper ships sail far upriver, where the salmon
swim in the clean, cool pools just to spawn.
Wake to what the spider unspools into a silver
dawn dripping with light. Sleep in sleeping bags,
sleep in sand, sleep at someone else's house
in a land you've never been, where the dreamers
dream in a language you only half understand.
Slip beneath the sheets, slide toward the plate,
swing beneath the bandstand where the secret
things await. Be glad, or be sad if you want,
but be, and be a part of all that marches past
like a parade, and wade through it or swim in it
or dive in it with your eyes open and your mind
open to wind, rain, long days of sun and longer
nights of city lights mixing on wet streets like paint.
into the black maws of your own changing,
onto the boardwalks of a thousand splinters,
onto the beaches of a hundred fond memories
in wait, where the sea in all its indefatigability
stammers at the invitation. Go to your vacation,
to the late morning cool of your basement rooms,
the honeysuckle evening of the first kiss, the first
dip and pivot, swivel and twist. Go to where
the clipper ships sail far upriver, where the salmon
swim in the clean, cool pools just to spawn.
Wake to what the spider unspools into a silver
dawn dripping with light. Sleep in sleeping bags,
sleep in sand, sleep at someone else's house
in a land you've never been, where the dreamers
dream in a language you only half understand.
Slip beneath the sheets, slide toward the plate,
swing beneath the bandstand where the secret
things await. Be glad, or be sad if you want,
but be, and be a part of all that marches past
like a parade, and wade through it or swim in it
or dive in it with your eyes open and your mind
open to wind, rain, long days of sun and longer
nights of city lights mixing on wet streets like paint.
Best of Craig’s List of the week
Video of the week
Little Room
