Cacophony or symphony?

One person’s cacophony may be another’s symphony.

Kathleen Parker devotes her column today to commenting on the high drama of the escape of a Chinese dissident, Chen Guangcheng. He first gained refuge in the U.S. Embassy in Beijing and then went to a Chinese hospital. I recommend reading her column, if only for the high human-interest aspect of it.

In her final paragraph, she notes the effect of the “cacophony of protest” by Americans over China’s treatment of this blind, self-taught lawyer and his family. A cacophony is a harsh, upsetting sound, generally loud and overwhelming.

It’s a good word choice to describe how Chinese officials probably view American protests. Chinese dissidents, however, likely consider the same protests a symphony—a harmonious, pleasing sound. One of their best hopes to effect change is to rely on pressure on government officials by global citizens outside of China.

Chen Guangcheng has been invited to study at The New York University School of Law. Here’s hoping his family and he get their passports renewed and leave China soon. Even though the Big Apple daily assaults eardrums with its raucous, big-city cacophony, Chen Guangcheng may just consider all the city’s noise part of the sweet, symphonic sound of freedom.

Chen Guangcheng with Gary Locke, U.S. ambassador to China
AP Photo

Illustration special to the Sentinel
 

Captains of America, please stand up

Considering the dialogue in Dave Fitzsimmons’ political cartoon, it’d have been cool if he had drawn one of The Avengers holding a broad-bladed weapon with a long shaft. Wielded in battle in Europe in the Middle Ages, it’s called a partisan.

This type of weapon is now primarily used for show. Britain’s Yeomen of the Guard, charged with protecting Queen Elizabeth, appear in ceremonial functions with partisans resting on their shoulders.

To most Americans, though, the word describes politicians so entrenched in their party’s official mindsets that they cannot effectively communicate with politicians of other parties, come to agreements and pass legislation on urgent issues facing the nation. (No party, it should be noted, has been immune from partisanship.)

When opposing parties can manage to find common ground, it’s called bipartisanship––a rare phenomenon these days. Americans don’t need to see superheroes in Congress, but they do want competent, conscientious stewards of democracy to work together to solve pressing problems.

Will the real Captains of America please stand up and reach across the aisle?

Illustration special to the Sentinel

Yeomen of the Guard with partisans
Photo courtesy of Wikipedia
 

Syndicated cartoonists laugh all the way to the bank

The dialogue in Tundra gives us a good idea of what “syndicated” means in the publishing world.

A syndicated cartoon is one that is carried by many newspapers throughout the U.S. and abroad. The syndicate King Features, for example, provides newspapers with Baby Blues, Beetle Bailey, Dennis the Menace, Family Circus, Mark Trail, Popeye and Zits, among others. It also distributes newspaper columns, games, puzzles, and editorial cartoons to thousands of newspapers worldwide.

Getting syndicated turbo charges the earning power of newspaper cartoonists; otherwise, they are not inclined to quit their day jobs.

“Syndicated” is the adjective form of “syndicate,” which comes from the ancient Greek word
syndikos.That word meant ”helping in a court of justice, hence defendant’s advocate, judge,” according to Webster’s.

From syndikos came “syndic,” which Webster’s defines as a business agent, a government official in some European countries, or a civil magistrate. The tiny European country of Andorra, for instance, still has officials call syndics.

Andorra, noted by green circle, is flanked by Spain and France.
Illustration courtesy of Wikipedia

Syndics of the Drapers' Guild, an oil painting by Rembrandt in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam
Photo of painting courtesy of Wikipedia
 

Painting a word picture

Suzanne Bronson paints a charming word picture with “Atelier.” This word means “workshop” in French.

“Supine” means to lie (not lay) on one’s back, face up.

I’d like to write about some artists’ studios I’ve enjoyed, but there’s no time.

Soon I’ll be slathered with sunscreen and supine on a chaise lounge, soaking up some spring sun. Let the weekend begin!

Photo special to the Sentinel

Mensches worth mentioning

Mensch is a Yiddish word that means “a person of integrity and honor,” according to Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary.

I’ve been lucky to know quite a few mensches, including, but certainly not limited to, my son’s soccer coaches, Boy Scout leaders, Sunday School teachers, the pastors who guided him through confirmation, most of his public school teachers and many of our neighbors.

While these mensches may never have cried over my child, they’ve diligently supported and affirmed him. Yes, I’ve been lucky, and so has he.

Sam Levenson was a humorist, writer and journalist.
Photo courtesy of Wikipedia