Alison Garwood Jones

In conversation with Maureen Judge

May 3, 2010

In a display of human nature at its worst, I once worked with a fashionista who sneered, “Old ladies smell like sour milk.” Wow, I thought, if women can be this disdainful of their mother’s generation, we’ve got a problem. Judging by popular culture, society as a whole finds post-fertile women not worth looking at or listening to.

I wrote about this in a post called Best before dates back on March 4th. I said, one way we could encourage a cultural shift in our uncompassionate take on women and aging would be if filmmakers started telling more cradle-to-grave stories of women’s lives on the big and small screen. Pounding away on my keyboard I went on to say, it’s time to break the pattern of ending women’s stories a quarter of the way through with a fairy tale wedding, a climactic shopping spree, a premature cancer diagnosis or a car chase off a cliff (à la Thelma & Louise).

Seeing women on screen in all their various stages of life — and not just the first blush of youth before anything interesting or noteworthy has happened — is an affirmation of our entire time on this earth. Call it kitchen wisdom, but if we want to live, we have to age. So let’s stop averting our gaze before it’s over. Let’s follow the narrative arc of a woman’s life right to the end, highlighting her accomplishments, sharing the lessons she’s learned and spilling a few tears over the moments when the meaning of it all burned the brightest.

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When I wrote these words three months ago, I hadn’t met Maureen Judge. Judge is an award-winning Toronto filmmaker who is filling that storytelling gap I lamented with rich and complicated profiles of Canadian women, ranging in age from 18 to 101. Her one-hour docs hold up a mirror to situations we’ve all experienced (or will experience), but have a hard time acknowledging: the changing nature of love over time, where we go when we age, and what happens to us when life doesn’t unfold the way we thought it would or should.GetAttachment.aspx

Her latest film, Mom’s Home, premiering May 5 at 10:00 pm on TVO, focuses on the autumn of three mother/daughter relationships and how aging, and in one case an Alzheimer’s diagnosis, has changed the dynamic in each. All three stories show the commitment most women feel “to do what’s best” for their families, and often without the support or input from men.

[pullquote]Mom’s Home premieres May 5 at 10:00 pm on TVO.[/pullquote]

I sat down with Judge last week to talk about Mom’s Home. But before I launch into our Q&A, I want to introduce you to the three mother/daughter duos she captures so beautifully on film. Economic and health concerns have forced the women to move in together.

May and Gloria

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May moved in with her daughter, Gloria, three years ago just after her husband died. Gloria is also a widow. Originally from Scotland, this mum and daughter duo live together in a cramped walk-up in small town Ontario. May is 82, still puts on bright red lipstick every day and keeps the ashes of her husband and a pet budgie in decorative boxes on the dresser of her cluttered bedroom. Gloria wrestles with having to leave her mother every day to go to her job as a cook at the local diner. May has Alzheimer’s and as her condition worsens, Gloria realizes something’s got to give. She needs help.

Harrian and Charmaine

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Harrian moved in to her daughter Charmaine’s suburban home after years of living with her son, Carl, and his family. Both women are divorced. Despite getting the heave-ho from Carl —“Moms should stay with their daughters,” says Carl, adding that his mom was starting to “annoy” him — Harrian is wonderfully good natured about the prospect of moving into Charmaine’s place and taking over the cooking, cleaning and entertaining. Charmaine, who has always wanted her mother’s approval, is only too pleased to have her. “I don’t’ know how long I’m going to be here,” says Harrian. “We’ll see.” Charmaine works with a real estate firm, staging houses for sale. Harrian often accompanies her on jobs, although, at times, her daughter finds her more of a burden than a help. That upsets Harrian.

Pam and Liz

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Pam and Liz are the most conflicted about their living situation. Both are divorced and have been roommates in Liz’s home, along with Liz’s two young sons, for the past eleven years. Worried about money and her mother’s well-being, Pam feels bitter and stuck that she can’t get back her own life. Pam also wants a final period of independence before her she gets too old to take care of herself.

Q&A

AGJ: Has Alzheimer’s touched you personally?

MJ: My great aunt Rebecca had it. She lived most of her life in Windsor. She was a batik artist and made quite a mark through her work. She married late in life because she was looking after her mother. But it wasn’t long after she married that her husband got sick and died. She was always forgetful, but this was long before she had Alzheimer’s. At one point, my brother, who was living in Windsor at the time, noticed there was nothing but cigarettes in her fridge. That’s when my parents invited her to move to Toronto so they could keep an eye on her. She moved down the street from them. By that point, I was already living on my own, but I still saw her. Aunt Rebecca would take long walks. Every day she would go to the TD Bank at Sherbourne and Bloor [in Toronto]. They all knew her there. I would run into her a few times at The Bay and she’d say, “Dearie, Dearie, can you tell me how to get home?” She was totally lost. There were times too when she’d wander up to my parents house in the middle of winter with no coat on. She almost lived like a bag lady, but she wasn’t. My family was there for her. Aunt Rebecca lived down the street for quite a while until her behavior became too erratic. The final straw was when she jumped from her first floor window in the middle of the night with no clothes on. At that point, my parents put her into a nursing home.

Why is it important for you to tell these kinds of stories?

They go right to the heart of family realities. Family has always been my centre. It’s how I relate to the world. I’m one of eight kids. We moved around quite a bit when I was young, so when people asked, Where are you from? I’d say, Well, I dunno, I’m from my family. I was born in Montréal, then lived in Kingston, then Chicago and I finally ended up here in Toronto. I think there is a lot of drama in families. It’s a microcosm of society as a whole. For me, that’s where I find my nourishment for stories and for love and for all the ugly stuff too. It all gets mashed up together.

What do you like best about working with older women?

They’re funny. They say what they think and don’t care about the consequences anymore. I love their sense of freedom.

Do you think that women who are widowed, divorced, or temporarily “over men” tend to team up more to form support networks than men do (divorced men just look for a new woman to look after them).

That’s really interesting. I don’t know. I don’t have any stats. But I would think that’s true because, for women, family is still their base, so they’re able to reach out more. Even in a car, if someone gets lost who’s the one who asks for directions? It’s the woman because we don’t have that sense of having to be independent and alone and making it in the world without anyone else’s help. Also, women live longer than men. There are a lot of single mothers, divorced women and widows out there.

How did you find your subjects?

I found community newspapers were the best way to get at people. Those papers hang around for a week. People flip through them and tear out pages. I was also a guest on CHUM FM with Roger, Rick and Marilyn and got a ton of responses after I described what I was doing. I did CBC radio in the afternoon with Matt Galloway. I also got in touch with the YWCA, and did a couple of seniors speaking engagements.

Did the three pairs of mums and daughters you finally chose let you know why they wanted to get involved?

No. And I never ask, but I usually know.

Why did May and Gloria decide to participate?

That’s an easy one. Gloria wanted some entertainment for her mother. May was so excited to have the camera there because she had always wanted to be a movie star. I thought they’d be the love pair. Actually, I think Charmaine and Harrion are the love pair because there’s less pain in their lives. With May and Gloria, they had to move in together, but they also loved being together. They’re joined at the hip.

Pam and Liz came next. They were much more reserved, more WASP. I chose them because they really didn’t want to be together. They were both in this rut and didn’t know how to get out of it. Both had other dreams, and they weren’t shared dreams. But here they were sharing this house together with the kids and the dog. They were tied together and it wasn’t so much about love, it was economics. I thought a lot of people would understand them.

I think Liz represents the resentment that a lot of adult daughters feel. Her life is on hold. She can’t decide if she should marry her boyfriend, but she doesn’t want to pull him into her current situation. She’s stuck.

But Pam is stuck too. She’d like to go out on her own before she’s too old. She’s wondering, What’s going to happen to me?

What about Charmaine and Harrian?

I chose them because they were so much fun. By then, I’d been around Gloria and May and realized there was a pretty dark side to their circumstances. Charmaine and Harrian’s situation wasn’t all that dark. Yeah, ok, her son pushed her out. Carl wasn’t very nice, but Harrian had so much spunk. I also liked the fact that Charmaine basically wanted her mother to like her. She wanted to be the favourite child. That’s why she wanted her mother to live with her. This was her way — and I don’t mean this negatively — of insinuating herself more deeply into her mother’s life. Being one of eight kids I really understood that. You want to figure in your mother’s life. Charmaine’s goodness was allowed to express itself as a result.

Did any of the women have troubles letting you into their lives with a camera?

No. I don’t start shooting until I have some sort of relationship with my subjects. I got to know them over coffee, over phone calls. I wanted them to like me too. I have to let them into my life as a filmmaker. I know that if I miss anything in my initial interviews, when I don’t have cameras and mics around, I’ll get it again. People’s lives are very repetitive.

In the story of May and Gloria the word “Alzheimer’s” wasn’t spoken until about 9 minutes into the film. And it only came up once.

Right.

The women weren’t saying it. Why was that?

Because they live it. May was repeating herself all the time. You know, it’s there but it’s not spoken. She’s also in the really early stages. I didn’t want the medical condition to take over the whole film. And it doesn’t. This is not a film about Alzheimer’s; it’s about relationships and how they are changed by Alzheimer’s and all the other concerns related to aging.

I like what Charmaine said, “I’m learning to live with a completely different woman [than the one I grew up with].” It’s about meeting your mother at another stage of her life and getting to know her all over again.

Yeah, it really is.

Do you think people dance around Alzheimer’s the way they used to dance around cancer? You know, “She’s got the “C” word” (said in a whisper).

I think people do. I think they’re afraid of it. They’re afraid of getting it themselves. I think losing your mind is scarier than anything else. I have a brother who’s schizophrenic. It’s the same idea of losing your mind and not being able to control where it goes.

Do you think this teaming up of the generations will be a social trend over the next 30 years as Baby Boomers age?

I do. I think it’s an economic necessity mostly. All three pairs in the film had financial problems. They weren’t able to have their own homes. I think it’s a cultural thing too. As more people from other countries immigrate to Canada it will be more acceptable for multiple generations to live under the same roof. This will just become assimilated into our culture. I think it’s a good thing. When push comes to shove, you may not have chosen your family, but you are born into it and that’s who’s going to be there for you in the end. I also think mothers and daughters are inextricably bound together. That is the most satisfying part of making this film. I got to know some really great people who taught me a whole lot of life lessons.

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Paris notebook

April 22, 2010

 

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When I lived in Paris, predatory businessmen searching for a cinq à sept used to chase me past apartment buildings like this. After a while, I stopped worrying about what was behind me and started thinking about what was beyond the balconies in the flats above. WallpaperI imagined rooms dressed in faded cream and mint striped wallpaper that was peeling back at the edges and marked up by run-ins with Louis XV furniture.

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There also had to be gilt mirrors in every size and shape. And they could never be rearranged on account of their chatelaine’s thirty-year nicotine habit which had tinted the walls two shades darker than their original colour, grounding the mirrors, several second-rate Impressionist paintings and a prized Boucher to the spots first determined when she moved in.

This oval beauty is from the eighteenth century.

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The owner, a woman surely named Claudine or Aurélia — no, Véronique! — had advanced degrees in art history from the Sorbonne and lived alone on the fourth floor of this Haussmann treasure. Alone but never lonely, Véronique entertained a handful of alternating male visitors with whom she passed a Gauloise and flicked her Zippo. Except for some baguette crumbs, a bottle of Veuve, and a box of stale macarons, there was no food around — ever. Eating took place in the cafés down the street. Insouciant and witty about life and its contradictions, Véronique was dead serious about cheese, foie gras, snails and Fraises de Bois (forest strawberries).

Veronique had several steamer trunks full of her grandmother’s clothes, I imagined, just as the panting behind me subsided and my shadow took a sharp turn down another cobblestoned back street. Finally, I sighed. Where was I? Oh, yeah, Mémère had been a cabaret singer and coquette with as many fancy gloves, hats, sparkly broaches and feather boas as one would expect of a woman in her field. Véronique inherited them all, and kept a pair of buttery soft beige kid gloves in her lingerie drawer.

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Tipsy Degas

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Here’s grandma in her heyday, singing about love found and lost. She looked and sounded harsh by the end. But Véronique said she lived by her own rules and, really, that’s all that mattered.

*I was on a press trip in Québec City earlier this week and couldn’t help sinking into this francophile reverie.

 

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Interior décor — guy style

April 12, 2010

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The change jar adds metallic accents to any bedroom dresser.

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From the vaults

April 9, 2010

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I like hills. Looking at them. Driving over them. Running down them. And sitting on them. I’ve left my footprints in the hills of Ireland and southern England, British Columbia and Italy. I even crossed a field similar to the one pictured above from my favourite Edward Hopper painting, Corn Hill (Truro, Cape Cod). Last December I went down to San Antonio, in part, so I could stand in silent communion in front of the painting in the McNay Art Museum.

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Zigzagging up and down the aisles of Toronto’s One of a Kind Show a few years ago, I came face-to-face with the hill country paintings of Michele Rose,  an Oakville artist. Rose’s “Summer Morn” (above)  now hangs above my desk. It reminds me of the many times my dad and I navigated the twists and turns of the Sussex countryside (en route to visit the rellies) in our sporty rented compact.

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I thought you’d appreciate a detail.

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Here’s the last hill painting I’m going to show you before we break for the weekend. It’s by the Ottawa artist Andrew King, who used to be a cartoonist for the Ottawa Citizen. This canvas, also on my wall, is entitled Dinner Call. I bought it because, as kids, the same wooden sled hung in our garage. Also, whether it was winter or summer, my mum used to fling open the back door and holler at my brothers and me to come inside for dinner or our bath. The whole neighbourhood knew when she was cracking open the Mr. Bubble.

Let’s fade out with Cat Stevens.

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In conversation with Bruce Mau

April 7, 2010

DSC_5191 Colour final-1 Photo: Dave Gillespie

I was feeling defeated the day I spoke to Bruce Mau, the Sudbury-born, world-renowned designer/thought leader. I called Mau at his Chicago studio back in January to talk about the environmental movement and to hear his ideas about design in a world without oil. We chatted a few days before he arrived in Toronto to speak at a conference on this topic at the Interior Design Show (I covered the conference for This Magazine).

That day, my belief in human potential was on the downswing, and Mau sensed it.  Blame Copenhagen. This was a few weeks after the missed opportunities at the Climate Summit where, according to Rick Mercer, Canada’s Jon Stewart, our prime minister hid in his hotel room the whole time, living on club sandwiches.

When I picked up the phone and dialed Mau’s number I was thinking that our use of fossil fuels was as widespread as a giant banyan tree whose roots had circled the planet to point of strangulation (OK, I have a fertile and metaphorical imagination). An earlier conversation with economist Anita McGahan, speaking from her office at the Rotman School of Management at the University of Toronto, was a sober reminder of the extent of our dependence (my dependence) on petrochemicals.

“Look around in the room you’re sitting in,” said Prof. McGahan, who teaches a course on “The End of Oil.” “Your carpets, the paint on your walls, the fire extinguisher in your kitchen, the water bottle on your desk — all are derived from oil. So are the fillings in your teeth, your eyeglasses, your clothes, your computer, your iPhone and anything in the room made of plastic…” Her list didn’t end there. “Our very infrastructure is petroleum-dependent, including our telecommunications, our water sewage systems and our agricultural industry, since petroleum-based fertilizers are juicing the agricultural productivity of the world.”

What McGahan said was fascinating. Still, I came away from our conversation feeling like separating my garbage was as impactful as throwing a deck chair off the Queen Mary.

Even if human nature weren’t so resistant to change, how could it when we’re this coated in plastic?

Enter Bruce Mau. I’m glad he exists. He has to be the most worldly (forgive me, Mr. Mau) “motivational speaker” on the planet.  Not to mention the most playful, quoting mots justes from sources as varied as Frank Gehry to Dr. Seuss. Talking to Mau, I felt challenged, perplexed and exhilarated, like I’d just experienced an IMAX screening of the earth shot up close then viewed from space astride a comet. Simply put, Mau has this ability to galvanize your belief in the possibility of change.

Spoiler alert: In this interview, Mau didn’t give me a definitive answer to our environmental woes, so don’t go searching for it. His example inspires us all to innovate our way towards new ways of living.

Q: Are we ready for the cost and sacrifice of a sustainable economy?

Bruce Mau: Actually, that’s the wrong way to start this conversation [laughs]. Journalists are always framing it that way. So long as we articulate sustainability negatively, people will think, “Hey, I’m not up for that.” This is not about cost and sacrifice, it’s about investment and opportunity.

You’re such an optimist!

Well, these are exciting times! We’re living in an intensive period of invention right now, akin to 1900 when the idea of pairing a motor and a wheel was new and exciting. There’s a real flourishing of the entrepreneurial spirit happening and it’s akin to the excitement a century ago when we were embracing a lot of new technology.

But then optimism turned to concern.

Yeah, at the end of the twentieth century we realized we have a whole new set of problems because of the way we defined the car. We need to redesign it [the car, and a lot of other things]. I like to frame it this way: the problems we have right now are problems of success, not failure. The car is not a problem because it failed, it’s a problem because it succeeded.

But we all need to go about our day. No one wants to be lectured about changing their habits.

Right, telling someone to get out of their car and only take public transportation won’t work. But seducing them with good design just might. We need to embarrass the old [oil guzzling] way of doing things by out-designing it with sustainable alternatives.

Do we have low design expectations for sustainable objects?

Absolutely! One area where we’ve failed in the environmental movement is in understanding how important aesthetics is to success. I don’t believe that a sustainable future will be uglier than an unsustainable one. I don’t believe that we can succeed in sustainability without making it more beautiful than the stupid way. But, again, a big problem we face in the environmental movement is that we’ve articulated our challenges negatively. What we really should be saying is: we’re going to use design to make the coolest new car that’s sustainable and more beautiful than any car you’ve ever seen. The Tesla is an electric car that blows away the Ferrari in terms of design, speed and performance, and it’s practically silent to operate. That’s how we’re going to win!

So what’s holding us back, then? Is it price?

Nothing. Tesla has a waiting list a mile long. General Motors didn’t get the memo. Having said that, I think people view our progress as way too slow. To some degree, that’s true. New plastics are being developed that don’t come from oil and it seems like it’s taking so long to implement them. But in the grand scheme of history, these changes are happening incredibly fast. The leap from books to cars to iPhones came about in a blink of an eye. We know we can do things, but it takes time to transform industrial structures.

OK, so where do we go from here?

It’s critical that we recognize and support the power we have as individuals. When you think about the tools we have at our disposal, it’s amazing. For centuries, kings and queens didn’t have access to the mobility and communications we all have now. My father was a miner in Sudbury. Had I been born fifty years earlier, I wouldn’t be contributing what I’m capable of. Today we’re connecting with one another across cultures, languages, religions and national boundaries. Social media and the internet are playing a big part in distributing power. Wrap your head around this: we’re doubling our capacity to move information every twelve months. That means we’re doubling the double. It’s not like we’re adding two times, we’re multiplying two times. That means we’re doubling our capacity to change the world. Over a twenty year period, we’ll increase our capacity a million-fold.

Philanthropy has been changing to reflect, as you say, the power of the individual. I’m thinking of cell phone distribution programs in the developing world and one laptop per child.

Exactly. One of the roles of philanthropy is to support this tool distribution. It’s no longer about gifts falling from the sky, it’s about helping people understand and experience their own power and building a capacity internal to the culture. Building a culture of capacity is, to a large extent, psychological. So much of it is understanding, I have the tools to do this. I have the freedom.

Do you think emerging superpowers, like India, understand the importance of “building a capacity internal to the culture” better than Canada or the US?

I went to a Red Hat Conference, recently. It was an open source software conference. The head of the India Institute of Technology took my aside and said, “You guys have no idea what open source means. For you, open source means changing your service provider.” For him, it means putting tools in the hands of 500 million kids for free. We’re living in a revolution and we’re not conscious of it because it’s so integrated. My studio is working with a lot of companies that are being transformed by these possibilities. Every day, media companies wake up and there’s a new competitor. We’re working with companies where their entire history is 10 years and the average tenure of an employee is five months. I wouldn’t be surprised if something is being developed in a dorm room right now that will be worth 2 billion dollars by the end of next year.

Thank you!

You’re welcome!

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It’s SO hard to be interesting

March 31, 2010

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Day traders: then and now

March 28, 2010

THEN (ca.1986-2008)

Day-traders

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Four blog posts down, on March 19th,  I looked at the male-dominated culture of day trading.

After the hard lessons of September 2008 (September sure has proven to be a calamitous month, hasn’t it?), I wondered how and if we can change the recklessness of this species of capitalists?

“Do you put each trader in a single enclosed office space away from his buddies?” I asked.  I said that because researchers at the University of California published a study in March 2008 that found that men in group situations, like trading floors, are more likely to engage in risky decision making because they get caught up in issues of relative social status and dominance.

Well, I think I got an answer — or, at least, part of it — on my doorstep this morning. According to a front page story by David Segal in the business section of today’s New York Times, the Great Recession has given rise to a more mellow trader, while virtual trading is slowly starting to replace frenetic trading floors.

“You expect [all traders] to be revved up and antsy,” Segal points out. After all, the old way, summed up by the picture at the very top of this post, was a mosh pit of testosterone. “Remember the day traders?” asks Segal in the killer opening paragraph to his article. “They were hard to miss during the tech-stock mania a decade ago, when the NASDAQ seemed like a casino built by morons and a chimp with darts could pick winners.”

The Great Recession has sent many a day trader back to the comfort of his own home (I say “his” because they’re still almost all guys). The Red Bulls, the chest bumping, the swearing and the occasional spontaneous fist fights (à la the NHL) have been replaced by the hum of refrigerators, kids playing and dogs barking at the mail man, as evidenced in the second photograph by Times shutterbug, Sandy Huffaker.

The tone these home-based traders set, says Segal, is more akin to “members of a mellow Southern California rock band that split up 15 years ago. The most agitated [they] get while trading online is the occasional ‘goddangit.'”

These guys are a part of the new frontier in online trading. They use all the latest crowd-sourcing tools available on the internet: You Tube, Twitter and GotoMeeting, a Web conferencing service. Because trust in institutional investors (the chimps with the darts) is at an all time low, investors are starting to look elsewhere for answers, according to Segal. “[The old-style trader] nearly blew us all up with leverage,” says Howard Linzdon, co-founder of StockTwits, in an interview with the author.

That’s not to say that people aren’t hiring professionals to manage their investment portfolios. They are. Who has the time or the knowledge to do it all themselves? I sure don’t. More people, though, are rejecting the Gordon Gekkos and turning to sites managed by home-based traders, sites that believe in exposing the inner workings of trading transactions.

The Times article profiles a couple of guys who work for Today Trader (todaytrader.com), a two-year old internet venture that puts a premium on transparency. “Here is your chance to look over the ‘virtual shoulder’ of experienced traders executing LIVE stock trades,” says the website.” Watch and listen in REAL TIME using desktop sharing software and Internet audio as we execute trades throughout the day. A new way to learn how to Day Trade and Swing Trade.” It’s the latter-day equivalent of tuning in your transistor radio to listen to truck drivers bantering back and forth on their CB’s.

While this new breed of trader isn’t taking over from the mega institutions, like Charles Schwab, they are evidence of a shift in our culture, one brought about by the intersection of a falling economy and an ascending digital culture.

The partners at Today Trader, Steve Gomez and Andy Linloff (pictured above with his daughter jumping on the bed behind him), spend much of their day fielding questions posted in their chat room. Their Zen responses should convince you that change is afoot.

Segal describes one subscriber, Rick, who asks Gomez, “What do you guys do to stop kicking yourself (emotionally) about missed opportunity?” Mr. Gomez leans into his keyboard and taps out a response. “Not looking back, not kicking yourself for not catching the whole move. You’re never going to be perfect. Nobody is going to be perfect. … Our down days are every bit as instructive as our ups.”

Trends come and go. Let’s see if this one sticks.

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Je ne suis pas flattée

March 24, 2010

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When French poet Jean Cocteau told Coco Chanel “you think like a man,” mad, she countered by grabbing a silk ribbon and tying it around her head (bow forward). “Chanel may have believed she was equal to any man,” writes Janet Wallach, “but she never confused the two sexes. Parity was important, but femininity was an imperative.”

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R.I.P. Fess Parker

March 22, 2010

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Witnessing history is good for our health

March 22, 2010

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