Wednesday, December 31, 2014

The Parent Child Romantic Comedy

I recently identified a new genre of movie, the Parent-Child Romantic Comedy, and an analysis of these films helped me understand something about being a parent.

My essay was published on the New York Times Motherlode blog here:

Second favorite reaction to my essay: "That was yours? I saw that in a friend's Facebook status."

Favorite reaction: "I liked your essay; it made me realize what a terrible parent I am."

Monday, October 20, 2014

The Roomnet

The Boston Globe Connections column yesterday printed my essay on my experience away from the Internet, forced to actually connect with the other people in my presence to learn anything -- and enjoying it. I coined a phrase to describe the collected brainpower in a room: the Roomnet.
Earlier this year, an archaeological dig took me to a rural part of the world with spotty Internet service. In this village, it came through cell towers, but the signal was weak and shared by hundreds of people. So functionally, I lived without the Internet. 
Researchers have written about how video games and the Internet have changed our brains. My time on the dig required a reboot of my pre-Internet brain. This earlier brain, I quickly realized, was not without resources: Lacking digital search engines, I still had the “Roomnet.” Just as the Internet is the collective intelligence (or lack thereof) of a few billion people, the Roomnet is the collective intelligence of everyone in a given room. 
Read more
I love the illustration by Gracia Lam that accompanied the piece:

Friday, October 17, 2014

Rise of the Black Pharoahs

While in Sudan earlier this year, a film crew from National Geographic came to El Kurru to document our work and interview the dig director, Geoff Emberling. The fruits of their labor aired on PBS on October 1 as "Rise of the Black Pharaohs."

Here's the PBS description:

About the ProgramThe Egypt of the Great Pyramids, the Sphinx, and the Valley of the Kings was an empire of indomitable might. Then, around 800 BC, the impossible happened. Kush, a subject kingdom from the south, rose up and conquered Egypt, enthroned its own Pharaohs, and ruled for nearly 100 years.
These were the mysterious Black Pharaohs of what is today Sudan—the Nubian kings—whose reign has become legendary among Africans and written off as heresy by early archaeologists who refused to believe that dark skinned Africans could have risen so high.
But now, in the heart of Sudan, exciting new archaeological finds are revealing the truth about the great Kush dynasty. A sacred mountain holds the key to the Kush kings’ spiritual claim on the Egyptian throne; stunning statues are providing details about the true color of their skin and their long and prosperous reign; and a long-hidden tomb complex is shedding light on the trappings of their royalty and the extent of their empire.

As of this writing, Rise of the Black Pharaohs is streaming online here:

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

The Sudanese Hug Revisited

In January, the Boston Globe Magazine published an essay I wrote about my friendship with Mahmoud, a Sudanese archaeologist, and a greeting I had never seen before, the Sudanese Hug.

The basic gesture is a right handed pat on another person’s left shoulder while they do the same to you. The Sudanese Hug is more formal than an embrace, but conveys more warmth than a handshake. In fact, with good friends you might start with an embrace, greet each other while giving the Sudanese Hug, and end with a handshake.

I went back to Sudan this spring for an archaeological project and it was fun to revisit The Hug.

I watched families greet one another with it at the airport, and kept my eye out for it on the journey north to the dig site.

At the site, a Sudanese archaeologist friend named Mortada sauntered up to me and gave a stylish side glancing brush to my shoulder, rather than the squarely vertical downward pat that is the norm. “You remember the Sudanese hug, don’t you?” he asked me. Sure I did, but I had never seen it delivered in such a suave, cool way.

After our dig season was over, we went to visit Mahmoud at his home in Khartoum. I was happy to be able to give him a paper copy of the magazine so he could see the article in print.

“You know,” he told me, “a lot of Sudanese have seen this article online.” Apparently, English speaking Sudanese had passed the link around to their friends. What prompted this popularity? “It’s not often that the international news has something about Sudan that is positive, instead of bad news.”

Mahmoud’s sister, the matriarch of his family, came in. Mahmoud introduced each of us in turn, and then pointing at me, he said, “I introduce Jack with just two words: ‘Sudanese Hug.’”

A huge smile spread across her face and she raised her hands in astonishment. “Mashallah! You wrote that? It’s special to Sudan!” Another Sudanese woman I know in the United States had made the same point: the hug was such a natural part of her physical vocabulary that she didn’t think about it as a cultural phenomenon from her home country.

In fact, I had contacted a few anthropologists who work in Sudan and neighboring countries in northern and eastern Africa and they all commented that The Hug was a uniquely Sudanese phenomenon.

Mahmoud told me that he had heard from strangers who read the article and used some internet sleuthing to piece together that he was the archaeologist I had written about. They wanted to know that the story was true and that he was a real person. Old friends and family also wrote to confirm his identity -- “This is about you, right?” His favorite response came from a cousin who was working in the Persian Gulf. “This must be you. Now I know that you must be doing drugs or something with the foreigners you work with -- you are having too much fun.”

Thursday, June 05, 2014

Smart People by Lydia Diamond

My wife thought Smart People by Lydia Diamond was going to be one of those plays where four people sit around and talk. According to the ads, they would be talking about privilege and ambition and race. She was right for about 5 minutes.

The opening four person dinner party ended mid-scene. Then we were transported back a year to meet all the characters. Brian White is a white professor at Harvard who seems to have found a biological reason for racism. Ginny Yang is a MacArthur Fellow at the university who practices as a clinical psychologist and is doing research on young Asian women. Jackson Moore is Brian's best (only?) friend, a black doctor still in training. Valerie Johnston is an aspiring African-American actress.

They meet, they mate, they talk.

The play is structured very cinematically with lots of quick cuts between scenes, sometimes alternating between scenes that are staged on different areas of the versatile set. Much of the play is written as dialogues, between characters or, in many cases between one of the quartet and an unseen other. Jackson has an argument with his supervisor, for example, but we only hear his side of the story; similarly we hear Ginny's part of a discussion with a shopkeeper about honoring a coupon. Eventually we get back to the dinner party and see what happens afterwards.

The central subject of the play is race, and there are lots of interesting permutations and observations throughout. Ginny complains when the others think of race as "black and white" and excludes myriad others. Brian, studying race, does not use Asian subjects because they're complicated. (Agreed; I just got a Federal form and under race, the "Asian" menu included: Chinese, Japanese, Filipino, Pacific Islander... and a Chinese-American whose ancestors worked the laundries in San Francisco is very different from the guy who moved here from Shanghai 5 years ago.)

There's pushback on Brian from the university and his friends. Brian thinks his research will force people to confront and deal with their inherent racism. But does proving racism is biological excuse people for being racist? What sort of racial feeling does a parent with an adopted child of another race have? 

The acting was all very good, and I thought Miranda Craigwell as Valerie was a standout. It may be that she had some of the best lines and a broad range to play: comic, romantic, provocateur and as an actor on an audition trying some different ways to play a character.

The characters find themselves in situations that force the audience to reconcile with their racial context. Jackson loses his temper at work: angry black man or just an angry guy? Ginny has a weird shopping addiction (Imelda Marcos-like?). In the situations where we hear only their side of a conversation, the audience is co-opted into playing the part of hospital administrator, or clothing store clerk. We judge them, and it's clear from how they respond that they feel judged. 

I found the play a bit too ambitious. I respect the endeavor, but I think the subject matter is so vast that many of the intriguing observations got short shrift and ended up being fairly shallow. That said, the story is entertaining and the play will likely start lots of conversations as viewers pick up the threads left dangling by the characters.

Ultimately the show does a good job of showing how race is a context in every situation while portraying four individuals dealing with those situations. Currently, it's also a bit long at over 2 hours plus intermission. There's lots of good material here and if Diamond edits and shapes it, I think the show will improve.

Smart People is a Huntington Theater production currently playing at the Calderwood Pavillion in the South End

Tuesday, June 03, 2014

The Barber of Aleppo

I discovered a cool online magazine called The Weeklings. They publish one essay a day about culture, from music to movies and comics, to someone's random musings on the Syrian Civil War. Last Thursday, those random musings were mine:
I’ve been thinking a lot about the Arab man who held a sharp razor to my throat. I hope he’s okay. 
My first trip to Syria was in 1998. I had somehow managed to convince the new director of excavations at Tell Brak that I could do all the illustrations, photography and database management he would need. We (that it so say, I) made some mistakes but we cobbled together a successful season that spring.
Read the rest here.

Monday, June 02, 2014

25 Years Ago in Tiananmen Square

Commentators are discussing the 25th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Massacre. On June 4, 1989, Chinese army troops rolled into the center of Beijing to destroy the nascent democracy movement there. For those unfamiliar with the geography of Beijing, it would be the equivalent of tanks on Washington’s National Mall.

I remember the June 4 very distinctly, as I was in Beijing at the time. In my personal history, that was a day of confusion and packing and evacuation, rumors and speculation. More significant in my memory is the afternoon of June 2, 1989.


I was in high school in 1985 when my dad accepted a job with IBM to help open a Beijing office. When I first went to China to visit my parents, it was still clearly a communist country. Everything was gray, or at best the brown of dirt and the drab olive of the androgynous uniforms everyone wore. I should have felt rich with my pockets full of American dollars, but spending foreign currency was officially limited to a specialized “Friendship Store,” half-stocked with trinkets for tourists.

By 1989, things had improved a little. A door had been cracked open and students and other protesters were seeking a voice in their future. Democracy. Freedom. Abstract concepts in a country so large, geographically and population-wise.

I watched on television as ragged-looking youths camped out in front of Beijing’s government buildings. Their demands seemed noisome and futile and the camera panned over to a crude looking facsimile of the Statue of Liberty that the protesters had christened The Goddess of Democracy.

It all seemed a bit pathetic to be honest.

When my dad suggested we visit Tiananmen Square, I went more for the sake of historic curiosity than real sympathy for the movement. In real life, the camps seemed even more squalid -- the students stayed up late at night chanting and demonstrating and now many of them were napping on flattened cardboard boxes like homeless people -- and the statue struck me as ugly.

We walked around a bit, picking up flyers that I couldn’t read. My parents translated signs and explained Chinese puns that they found clever. My mom laughed at a series of three portraits of Chinese politicians: Hu Yaobang, Wan Li and Zhao Ziyang. What was funny about that? “Wan Li” sounds like the words “ten thousand miles” and the series suggested that the new Party Chairman Zhao Ziyang was ten thousand miles from his liberal predecessor, Hu Yaobang.

Then, as we were readying to leave the square, people started shouting. Rumors were flying. The police were coming! The army was coming! They were coming to take down the statue!

Suddenly, the crowd rose up. They rallied and gathered around the statue. And that lousy Liberty wannabe transformed before my eyes: she became The Goddess of Democracy. In the center of a mass of young people demanding dignity and recognition, she became beautiful, and her protectors heroic. I felt -- perhaps it was just my imagination -- that the students had moved beyond fear and were motivated by a positive energy, by ambition, and righteousness, and hope.

My parents, worried about our safety, shuffled us away, back to their apartment on the outskirts of town. Of course there was no crackdown, no massacre that day. That wouldn’t happen for another 36 hours.


The Tiananmen Massacre was horrific, and more so for being so thoroughly whitewashed within the country. A young Chinese friend told me that when he grew up, he heard that in 1989, violent student protestors had killed a police officer and the students had to be jailed for their offense. It wasn’t until he worked as a tour guide and was constantly asked about Tiananmen that he did some research on English language internet sites and found the truth.

China is very different now. A visit I took in 2007 showed a country that was in motion: colorful, vibrant, full of energy and ambition. Stores were full of international and domestic made goods and they were all happy to accept US dollars. Men and women wore bright, modern fashions that made me feel dowdy. Shanghai seemed to exist five years into our future, with its shiny new skyscrapers, elevated highways and go-getter populace.

(It’s not all good, however. As the government dissolved socialist work groups, they also disbanded the health care system and social safety net that went with them. Rural poverty and urban pollution remain large problems, and political dissent is still far from tolerated.)

Looking at the past 25 years, it’s tempting to see all the progress as having happened despite the June 4 crackdown. I see it another way; that for twenty-five years, the spirit of the demonstrators of Tiananmen, the energy unleashed by the students and ordinary folk who wanted to contribute to mapping out the the future of their country and their own fates has been the engine driving the nation.

There is no democracy in China yet, and certain freedoms are limited. That said, modern China looks a lot less like the Communist forces that crushed the protests and a lot more like the vision of the protestors.

Thursday, May 01, 2014

Red Sox nation

The New York Times decided to follow up on my essay about Greater Boston* by commissioning an interactive map of baseball fandom based on Facebook Likes correlated with zip code.

The authors write about it here.

The interactive map is here.

A second map based on the same data showing the second favorite team is pretty interesting and is here.

* Not really, but a guy can dream

Friday, February 07, 2014

The City-State of Boston

Here's my essay from Cognoscenti, February 6, 2014

Author Anita Diamant recently wrote in Cognoscenti about how, even though she lives in Newton, she was proud and happy to welcome Boston’s new mayor into office. And the trolls descended! How dare a Newton resident call herself a Bostonian?, the commenters cried. 
Read the rest here

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

RIP Pete Seeger

An article I wrote in April 2012 about Pete Seeger was published in the Newton Tab in the weeks leading up to a Newton Family Singers Seeger-themed concert. It's no longer on the Tab website, and it seems appropriate to repost it here.

Reading it over, the article reads a bit like an obituary. Rest In Peace, Pete, and thanks for all the music!

Seeger continues to inspire

Pete Seeger turns 93 on May 3rd. He is known as a songwriter for writing songs as well-known as “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” and “Turn, Turn, Turn;” as an advocate of folk music for popularizing and adapting the songs of others, like “Oh When the Saints” and “Hine Ma Tov;” as a performer with The Weavers and in numerous solo recordings; and as the author of a number of books of songs and musical instruction. He is surely all of those things, but I think his primary influence has been as a music enthusiast, encouraging all of us to pick up an instrument, open our mouths and sing. Pete Seeger is probably indirectly responsible for about half the songs you’ve committed to memory and is directly responsible for your neighbors banding together to create the Newton Family Singers.

Where does a musical icon like Pete Seeger come from? It’s worth considering his family background: his mother Constance de Clyver Edson was a classical violinist and composer who taught at Julliard, his father Charles L Seeger was a composer and musicologist -- a room in Harvard’s music library is named in his honor. Charles’ second wife (Pete’s stepmother) was an avant-garde composer named Ruth Crawford and she and Charles helped Alan and John Lomax collect and transcribe traditional music from around the country and around the world. This musical upbringing had an effect on Pete as well as two half-siblings, Peggy and Mike, who had long musical careers of their own. (The legacy continues: two extended family members have joined the Newton Family Singers this year.)

Pete taught himself to play guitar and then learned songs from friends like Woody Guthrie and Huddy Ledbetter. With a few friends, he formed the Weavers and for years, as he has said, he played concerts to pay for all the time he spent playing union rallies and protests. His series of recordings for the Smithsonian called “American Favorite Ballads” is an encyclopedia of American vernacular music.

Given those accomplishments, where do I get the chutzpah to suggest that Pete Seeger’s greatest contribution has been to encourage others to sing? Well, from Pete himself. The desire to encourage and teach singing can be heard in the songs he wrote with his friends. “If I Had a Hammer” is a call for justice and freedom and love, but ultimately the most effective tool toward these ends is not the hammer or the bell but rather a song. And in his solo recording of “Wimoweh,” Seeger doesn’t perform the song, he teaches it; he introduces bass, tenor and soprano parts, so that his audience learns to sing together in harmony. Reading his memoir Where Have All the Flowers Gone, one can’t help but be struck by the way Seeger assumes the reader is also writing songs and leading sing-alongs and looking for advice in these endeavors.

And yes, Pete’s example is an inspiration for groups like the Newton Family Singers. We’re a group of men, women and children who enjoy singing harmonies and playing folk songs together. He’s also inspired one our group’s co-founders, Andy Rogovin, to write a tribute to Seeger and Woody Guthrie. The song benefits from a clever arrangement by Chris Eastburn, our guest musical director, who uses a medley of Seeger songs as an introduction: “If I Had a Hammer,” “Pastures of Plenty” and “We Shall Overcome” (the latter was a union song called “We Will Overcome” until Pete made one change and introduced it to the Civil Rights movement).  “Pete and Woody taught us songs of freedom...” Rogovin’s song begins, and subsequent verses list other types of songs from that rich folk tradition, songs of hardship, and of laughter: “music of our children / rising in the air.”

It’s a reminder that not every song has to be about love or heartbreak. When former rock and roller and now folkie children’s music hero Dan Zanes was searching for songs to sing with his daughter, he thought of his old Seeger records. The Beatles are great, Zanes has said, but songs of romantic love aren’t emotionally appropriate for young kids. Seeger’s songs are those we learned in childhood and carry into our old age. As Rogovin writes: “Pete and Woody taught us songs of freedom / I hear them ringing in my ears / Can’t you hear them echo through the years?”

A few days after his birthday, on Sunday May 6 at the Memorial Spaulding School, the Newton Family Singers will be celebrating Pete Seeger’s life in the best way we can: picking up some instruments and joining each other in song. We hope you can join us!

And here's "Pete and Woody" by Andrew Rogovin, performed by the Newton Family Singers:

Friday, January 24, 2014

What I learned from Twitter following the Sudanese Hug

A week or so ago, the Boston Globe Magazine published an essay I wrote about the "Sudanese Hug," a greeting I learned while visiting that nation.

There was a great response to the piece and I felt like I've been learning on the fly how to navigate social media (especially Twitter) as a freelance writer and personal essayist so I'm writing down some notes to remind myself of stuff I could do next time, and perhaps as a service to others.

First of all, it probably shouldn't be a surprise, but I learned there is a large Sudanese diaspora. And many of them speak English, and naturally they are tracking news about Sudan. Only the Globe knows how many people accessed the article (and from where) but through Twitter I was able to see a number of retweets (RTs) from Sudanese, from NGOs with an interest in Sudan, and from journalists in Sudan and East Africa.

While the language difference (predominantly Arabic) would seem to be a barrier to reaching a Sudanese audience, I think the smaller English speaking Sudanese audience has more of an incentive to follow all things "Sudan" on a social network like Twitter. In contrast, I would not expect as many people in an English speaking country with the same population as Sudan (about 35 million) -- say Canada -- to monitor social networks for references to their home. (I could be wrong; Canadians can be very patriotic.)

This may be obvious, too, but people like good news. While there is an audience of people looking for news on Sudan, it must be refreshing for them to read something complimentary and not about war or tragedy. In fact, the editor who bought my essay has mentioned to me more than once that too often her submission pile is filled with sad stories about death or heartbreak and she appreciates seeing, and being able to publish, a more positive balance.

Following an essay can be difficult. I used to shorten the link ( and then I can see how many click throughs come through "my" link. (I put "my" in quotes because anyone else can use the same link, but keeps it on a page for me to reference.)

What I found, too, was that the article was getting tweeted elsewhere, from the Boston Globe, and from various readers. I was able to track this somewhat by copying the URL that the essay lived on and searching for that address on Twitter, results here. (Note that this method finds both the direct URL and my shortened version.) I was able to then "favorite" any mentions and engage with those who liked the article.

And now I can spend more time searching on Twitter for links to previous articles...

... I'm back.

That was disappointing. Clearly, if you want your work to surf Twitter, you've got to do it yourself. On the bright side, here's an opportunity to start a new round of tweets with old articles.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Huffington Post

Brain, Child Magazine originally published my essay on hugging my tween son (why he needs it and how I screwed it up), and now, through a partnership, the essay has been reprinted in the Huffington Post HuffPost Parents section here.

Nice to see the story continues to resonate with readers.

Monday, January 13, 2014

The Sudanese Hug

What's more than a handshake and less than a hug? The Sudanese have the answer.

From the Boston Globe Sunday Magazine (1/12/14):

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you the Sudanese hug.
While working on an archeological excavation in northern Sudan, I was fascinated by a form of greeting I had never seen before. Two men would each clap his right hand down on the other’s left shoulder. They might pat each other’s shoulder a few times while smiling and exchanging greetings. And then the arms would drop and the men would shake hands.
Curious about this custom, I asked the dig director about it. He told me it was the “Sudanese hug,” and he suggested I ask Mahmoud, the Sudanese government representative who minded our excavation, to explain it. Mahmoud had spent time at academic conferences in Europe and was aware that the Sudanese hug was unfamiliar to most foreigners.
“When you greet a friend,” he explained, “and maybe you are not family, so you do not want to hug him, but you are not just business acquaintances, so you want to show more affection, then you do the Sudanese hug.”
This was a revelation.

Monday, January 06, 2014

An Open Letter to Jack Cheng (from Jack Cheng to all other Jack Chengs)

Dear Jack Chengs,

I’m not currently looking for a software job in Southern California. Are you? If so, you may want to redirect that Monster job search listing to your own e-mail.

Jack Cheng in the Midwest, please thank your friends for all the invitations to church potlucks. I will be unable to attend. Similarly to the Jack Cheng in Hong Kong -- if I can’t make it 1000 miles to the Midwest, you know I won’t make it to Kowloon! Jack Chengs are a pious group; God bless us.

Jack Cheng, you may want to clarify your e-mail address with any companies you are working for or consulting with. I’m happy to look over your Powerpoint presentations but I always feel a little bad when I get to the footnote that says all the information is confidential.

To my (second) favorite Jack Cheng, the designer and writer in Brooklyn who writes about tea and the slow web and had a successful Kickstarter campaign for his novel. Congrats! I’m sorry if my own attempts to build a writing career has confused Googlers trying to find you. You got the domain name; good on you. Also, you may want to get in touch with the Geekdad blog -- they have some nice messages for you.

I don’t know about the rest of you Jack Chengs, but I’m trying to reduce my material impulses. (Okay, I’ll admit I just bought a new acoustic guitar and I didn’t NEED it, but man, it’s sweet. It’s a L’Arrivee from Vancouver, the same brand [not the same model] that Commander Hadfield played in the International Space Station. Have you seen his “Space Oddity” video? Are you space geeks like me?)

Oh, sorry, I got sidetracked. Where was I? Trying to buy less. For that reason, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t sign me up for all those store newsletters. You know what I’m talking about -- Sears, sporting goods stores, car dealerships. I’m earning mad bonus points at Barnes and Noble even though I hardly ever shop there. Jack Cheng, I apologize for using your $5 B&N coupon but it was on my phone and they took it. You’d do the same, wouldn’t you?

I have to say, I’m oddly happy to see all the fitness newsletters; I didn’t think Jack Chengs were a particularly athletic lot. But we try! Am I right?

You may be wondering how it is that I got the awesome Gmail address. Well, my cousin Wilson works at Google and he invited me when Gmail was still in beta. Pretty cool, right? But it seems like there is some jealousy or just plain confusion on the part of the rest of you. It’s time now to just face the facts: I got the address and you didn’t. Don’t hate the player, bros.

Try Hotmail.


Jack Cheng