Tag: Culture Shock

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Culture Shock, by Will Stanton

The day was sunny and fairly warm for
November, so I took a stroll through the park, occasionally having a seat on
one of the many benches to soak up the sunshine and to watch the hundreds of
geese on the lake.  The benches came in
handy, considering that it has been a very long time since I was able to take
twenty-mile, mountain hikes.  My hips
were speaking to me, so I sought out another bench to rest.
The only bench close by me at that
moment already was occupied by one older woman. 
I correctly guessed that she was babushka,
a grandmother from Russia.  She appeared
to be friendly, so I asked if could join her. 
She seemed glad to have the company and someone to talk to.  With her heavy Russian accent, the
conversation was more “talk to” than “talk with,” for she did the majority of
the talking.  That was OK with me because
everything she had to say was quite interesting.
It turns out that she is seventy-six,
although she could pass for fifty.  She
lived most of her life in Yekaterinburg, the fourth largest city in Russia with
quite a history.   Situated in the Urals
on the border of Europe and Asia, it perhaps is best known as the location
where, tragically, Czar Nicolas II, his wife, and all his children were
murdered and then buried in the forests nearby.
Yekaterinburg also is known to be a
highly cultural city with ample opportunities to engage in the arts.  In addition to all of its educational
facilities, it has more than thirty museums, plus several theaters, concert
halls, and opera houses.  Several
world-famous operas singers got their start in Yekaterinburg. 
This loquacious babushka explained that society there just assumes that good
culture should be part of everyone’s life. 
Consequently, children are brought up to appreciate and to participate
in music and the arts and to be familiar with great literature.  As it turns out, these pursuits are not just
simple hobbies; the families take them seriously.  Before she acquired a degree in architectural
engineering, she first acquired a degree in classical piano performance.  Now that is dedication! 
She went on to talk about her family:
her husband, her daughters, and her grown granddaughters.  Yes, her daughters also acquired degrees in
music before pursuing degrees in their chosen professions.  Now her granddaughters just have completed
their music degrees in Boulder.
Babushka says
that she very much misses her home and all the cultural opportunities left
behind, but she came to America because of her family.  Her husband was offered a good
job-opportunity as an environmental planner here in America.  He accepted it and moved here by
himself.  His wife chose to remain behind
at home.  Eventually, their daughters
joined their father in America, and Babushka
was left alone.  Family is most important
to her, so finally she joined the family here.
There are many things that she likes
about America; however, she has noticed a major difference in culture
here.  There are some of the same
cultural advantages here as in her homeland, but at a very reduced scale and
with fewer and fewer people who truly are interested.  There appears not to be the same society-wide
appreciation of the arts among the population or understanding that incorporating
arts and music into one’s life not only enriches human life but also, as proved
by several psychological / educational research-studies, enhances the ability
to learn other disciplines, a concept apparently lost upon school districts
that eliminate the arts first from their school programs as “non-essential.”
I understood what she was talking
about.  Since my childhood, the vast
majority of classical music radio stations in America have been disbanded
because of rapidly dwindling listenership and advertising income.  Throughout America over the last generation,
the country has lost dozens of symphonies, theaters, opera companies, ballets
companies, and school arts and music programs.
A few years ago, the Denver Symphony
could not afford to keep going and was disbanded.  Apparently, Denverites will pay hundreds or
even thousands of dollars to go to football games and rock concerts, but many
far-less pricey symphony tickets were left half-unsold.  World-famous musicians would arrive on stage
to the embarrassing view of oceans of empty seats.  The failed symphony finally was replaced with
the Colorado Symphony.  Then just last
year, most of the board left out of frustration, and the symphony again came
close to closing.  It is keeping barely
alive by cutting the number of concerts, minimizing salaries, and traveling to
other venues with small groups of musicians to perform for a handful of
listeners. 
Other societies have a far different
view from America.  For example, Germany
funds their national arts programs at a rate of dozens of times higher per
capita in contrast to America.  They give
government funding to symphonies at a rate of 25 times that of America and
opera companies at 28 times.  In
contrast, Mit Romney (when running for President) said that he would eliminate
all government support for the arts in this country, and he’s not the only one
to say that.  Like many politicians the
past thirty years, he believes in so-called “small government” – – except of
course in the cases of increasing military spending, intruding into people’s
private lives, dictating women’s health choices, pushing religious beliefs into
school science programs, gutting the workers’ unions, and suppressing the right
to vote.  Within the total military
expenditures for each year, a tiny fraction of goes to supporting military
marching bands; yet that amount of money is so huge in contrast to what is
provided currently to the National Endowment for the Arts that this sum could
resurrect and support twenty full-time symphony orchestras at $20 million apiece
plus give 80,000 musicians, artists, and sculptors an annual salary of
$50,000.  But, the “cut-the-budget”
power-brokers in Congress never would do that. 
During World War II, Britain’s
finance minister recommended to Winston Churchill that they cut arts funding to
better fund the war effort.  Churchill’s
response was, “Then what are we fighting for?” 
There are numerous sociological and psychological articles written and
available for reading about the essential need for the arts to develop and
maintain a civilized nation with civilized people.
Another example of how culture has
declined in America can be seen in what recordings the majority of Americans
choose to buy.  Just ten years ago, the
local Barnes and Noble on Colorado Boulevard carried, in a large percentage of
the media room, hundreds of classical recordings on CDs and DVDs; and their
staff were graduate students from the Denver University Graduate School of
Music.  That large display-area
continually shrank until only one small area by the back wall contained
classical music, and the only clerk was a high-school graduate who admitted
that she had no background in music at all. 
With the recent renovation of the store and the reduction of the media
area to a minor space off to the far side, the stock has been minimized to
virtually nothing. 
Then I recently stopped in Target
just to check out their DVDs.  They had
only about a half-dozen of real quality and interest to me, five of which I
already had, and absolutely no classical CD section at all among the rap,
heavy-metal, hip-hop, country-western, pop, rock, and TV soundtracks.  That is what sells in America with
recordings, live concerts, radio, and TV, and even the music chosen for
background noise even in so-called good restaurants. 
Many fine grand-piano stores,
including the two major ones in my area, have gone bankrupt and closed because
so few people now are interested in classical music and learning how to play
the piano.  An article in the New York
Times described how many pianos now are taken to the dump because they often cannot
even be given away.  The correspondent
spoke about watching as a bulldozer ran over and crushed a Knabe baby-brand
piano.
Quite obviously, our country has
developed different priorities and values from that of many other advanced
nations.  I recently finished watching
the BBC production of John Carré’s “Tinker, Taylor…”  One particular quotation caught my attention.  In questioning one of the characters in his
story as to why he was so unhappy with America, the man replied, “Do you know
what the problem is…?  Greed, and
constipation…morally, politically, aesthetically.”  If that statement seems extreme, the sad fact
is that many people hold the same feelings. 
Unfortunately, since the book was written around forty years ago, a
similar view of America has persisted among many foreign nations in
particular.  This cultural difference
between the grandmother’s home and what America has become has not been lost
upon her, either.
So, the grandmother, obviously proud
of her family and all their accomplishments, laments the culture shock that she
has experienced.  She appreciates her
chance to come to America and to be reunited with her family.  Yet at the same time, she speaks with
fondness and nostalgia of her once having lived in an environment of great
cultural opportunity. 
Bosendorfer Grand Piano
I was sure that she had much more to
talk about,  and I would have been glad to have heard more; however, the sun was
going down, and the air quickly was becoming chilly.  Even my personal, extra insulation was not
enough to stave off the growing cold. 
So, I thanked her for her conversation, bid her farewell, and headed
home, all the time weighing the possible social and personal implications of
her reported culture shock.
© 28 Sep 2016 
About the Author 
 I have had a life-long fascination with
people and their life stories.  I also
realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or
fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual
ones.  Since I joined this Story Time
group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group.  I do put some thought and effort into my
stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.
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Culture Shock, by Ricky

“Culture” is a word that strikes fear into the world’s families of bacterium as if they know that shortly following the culturing will be an anti-biotic of the lethal type for all or specific families. A situation quite shocking from the point of view of the bacterium.

“Culture” is a word that creates feelings of loathing in the stereotype masses of the American populace. For some reason they feel that quality music in the form of opera, symphonies, and songs where one can actually hear and understand the lyrics is not of any worth. Thus, they vote to stop government support for these enterprises. As for TV entertainment, the masses do not seem to like a broadcast which does not contain lots of violence, sexual innuendo, or cheap humor.

These same masses will support government spending taxes for the things they prefer, for example baseball, football, and soccer stadiums. (If such things are good for business, shouldn’t business pay for it and not taxes?) But worse of all is their tendency to label those who do like quality music, songs, TV, screen play, or drama productions as elitists (at best) or snobs (at worse).

“Culture” is a word that creates feelings of joy or happiness in the stereotypical well-to-do (previously referred to as elitists or snobs). This group also tends to view the “less fortunate others” as undesirables for friendships and as a drain on the public treasury. Thus, they vote to cut social programs that support the poor, as the poor are viewed as lazy and uncouth leeches.

Of course these stereotypical views are not totally accurate and there are those of us who enjoy activities and recreations that fall into both camps. Sadly though, we are a minority.

“Culture Shock” commonly occurs when persons from one background encounter persons from another. An example is when “Johnny-Reb” moves into “Damn Yankee” territory or vice versa; or when a “New Yorker” moves to San Francisco; or when anyone from the east or west coasts moves into the mid-west or America’s “heartland” (the “fly-over” parts from which many gay men and women escape and move to either of the coasts).

One example occurred in my own home. My oldest daughter married a man from the Republic of Georgia. After he obtained citizenship here, he arranged to have his parents move to Lakewood and live with me and them. His parents grew up entirely under the authority of the old Soviet Union and its economic and social “values.” Maria grew up on a collective farm and so worked hard as she grew.

One day, my daughter took her mother-in-law to a discount store to buy her a new purse. While trying to decide which of many different styles to buy, Maria began to cry. When asked why by my daughter, she replied that there were too many choices and she could not make a decision. Maria was faced with “culture-of-plenty” shock.

Other “shocking” opportunities occur when military, police, gang, generational, and sexual orientation cultures have values that clash.

I have not experienced culture shock per-se. What I am experiencing is culture confusion. Being a closeted gay boy since my young teen years, I lived in the straight world most of my life. When I finally officially “came out,” at age 63, I was gently exposed to the gay “culture” of senior men. Then I learned a little of other sub-groups of gay culture; some of which apparently don’t “play-well” together, physically or politically.

So just as Maria experienced culture shock trying to adjust from a Soviet life of “little” to an American culture of abundance, So in my case, I am trying to understand all the subtleties of the elusive gay culture. Since I do not generally expose myself to the sub-groups of that culture, I am not likely to ever comprehend them well enough to form a cohesive or unifying understanding.

© 26 November 2012

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com

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Culture Shock by Ricky

“Culture” is a word that strikes fear into the world’s families of bacterium as if they know that shortly following the culturing will be an anti-biotic of the lethal type for all or specific families. A situation quite shocking from the point of view of the bacterium.

“Culture” is a word that creates feelings of loathing in the stereotype masses of the American populace. For some reason they feel that quality music in the form of opera, symphonies, and songs where one can actually hear and understand the lyrics is not of any worth. Thus, they vote to stop government support for these enterprises. As for TV entertainment, the masses do not seem to like a broadcast which does not contain lots of violence, sexual innuendo, or cheap humor.

These same masses will support government support for the things they prefer, for example baseball, football, and soccer stadiums. But worse of all is their tendency to label those who do like quality music, songs, TV, screen play, or drama productions as elitists (at best) or snobs (at worse).

“Culture” is a word that creates feelings of joy or happiness in the stereotypical well-to-do (previously referred to as elitists or snobs). This group also tends to view the “less fortunate others” as undesirables for friendships and as a drain on the public treasury. Thus, they vote to cut social programs that support the poor, as the poor are viewed as lazy and uncouth leeches.

Of course these stereotypical views are not totally accurate and there are those of us who enjoy activities and recreations that fall into both camps. Sadly though, we are a minority.

“Culture Shock” commonly occurs when persons from one background encounter persons from another. An example is when “Johnny-Reb” moves into “Damn Yankee” territory or vice versa; or when a “New Yorker” moves to San Francisco; or when anyone from the east or west coasts moves into the mid-west or America’s “heartland” (the “fly-over” parts from which many gay men and women escape and move to either of the coasts).

One example occurred in my own home. My oldest daughter married a man from the Republic of Georgia. After he obtained citizenship here, he arranged to have his parents move to Lakewood and live with me and them. His parents grew up entirely under the authority of the old Soviet Union and its economic and social “values.” Maria grew up on a collective farm and so worked hard as she grew.

One day, my daughter took her mother-in-law to a discount store to buy her a new purse. While trying to decide which of many different styles to buy, Maria began to cry. When asked why by my daughter, she replied that there were too many choices and she could not make a decision. Maria was faced with “culture-of-plenty” shock.

Other “shocking” opportunities occur when military, police, gang, generational, and sexual orientation cultures have values that clash.

I have not experienced culture shock per se. What I am experiencing is culture confusion. Being a closeted gay boy since my young teen years, I lived in the straight world most of my life. When I finally officially “came out,” at age 63, I was gently exposed to the gay “culture” of senior men. Then I learned a little of other sub-groups of gay culture; some of which apparently don’t “play well” together, physically or politically.

So just as Maria experienced culture shock trying to adjust from a Soviet life of “little” to an American culture of abundance, So in my case, I am trying to understand all the subtleties of the elusive gay culture. Since I do not generally expose myself to the sub-groups of that culture, I am not likely to ever comprehend them well enough to form a cohesive or unifying understanding.

© 26 November 2012

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com

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Culture Shock by Gillian

After what seemed a fairly short, swift journey, I had arrived at a strange place. I could feel the mist of Culture Shock swirling as I became aware of everything around me. Many things were familiar, yet apparently seen from an unaccustomed angle. I spoke the language, but not as well as I would have liked, or felt I should. I was somewhat taken aback by this feeling of strangeness; unfamiliarity. I had never been there before but had read up extensively on the place, yet obviously had not got the vision quite right. I had maps, which I had expected to be at least adequate, but now they seemed to bear little resemblance to the lay of the land.

Old Age is a strange place; don’t fool yourself, as you approach, that you know all about it. You don’t. Culture Shock awaits.

I had expected to reach old age at a steady pace, closing in on it year by year, but in fact it wasn’t like that at all. My psychological flight arrived in this strange land and suddenly here I am. Old.

I know that these days seventy is just the youth of old age, but it is old age nevertheless, albeit the early stages. And out of the blue it hit me one day not so long ago. I am old.

I arrived in this place partly via the aches and pains of arthritis, the unaccustomed urge for afternoon naps, and the disappearance of nouns from my vocabulary. I haven’t quite accepted that I actually am this person. Who is this Oldie masquerading as me? She walks a mile and starts chuntering on about how her knee will hurt tomorrow. She falls asleep in front of the TV, in spite of that newly discovered joy, afternoon naps. She can never find her car keys no matter how absolutely sure she is of where she left them, and she blanks out on her neighbor’s name.

It’s all part of that business of familiar things not feeling exactly as they should.

Then of course there’s the visual. Some days I look in the mirror and see my father; sometimes my mother. I see a recent photo and am shocked by the wrinkled neck and baggy eyes, and again I see my mother or father, rather than me. I seem to be disappearing into some ancestral version of myself.

And it’s not just how I feel and what I see, but what I hear. I almost speak the lingo, I possess a reasonable vocabulary, but much of it doesn’t resonate with me, rather like speaking the basics of a foreign language but missing the nuances, the subtleties. It’s all about 24/7 and sexting and texting, RAMs and blogs and twitters and tweets. Nouns have morphed into verbs. It’s about the “F” word, and many other words rarely heard in my youth, scattered liberally and without purpose throughout even the most erudite of conversations.

It’s also about what I use, as well as what I feel, see, and hear.. We who suffer this Culture Shock have dealt with endless technological innovations throughout our lives. We have struggled from no phones to wind-up phones to heavy bakelite with rotary dials to push-button to cordless to cell phones. And now we have smart phones. In my opinion they should be called outsmart phones because they outsmart a lot of old folks. Or maybe, just maybe, we’re the smart ones. We know enough to know we don’t need them.

Any time I have to unplug the various attachments from my TV – cable box, DVD player, roku box – I have to photograph how it’s all hooked up, first, to protect myself from hours of frustration later; which I do, of course, with my digital camera. Yes, some unfamiliar familiar things, I must confess, are wonderful. I still have my mother’s 1930s folding camera, but you don’t have to go back much more than twenty years to remember the slow, cumbersome, expensive processes accompanying the old film cameras

Indeed, Culture Shock is not necessarily a bad thing. It challenges us, focuses our brains, and stimulates adrenaline.

But Old Age is a worrisome place. We worry not only about our own futures, but also those of our offspring, our country, and indeed the world. With the threat of climate change hanging over us, we worry about the very survival of the human race. I think all “wrinklies”, throughout human history, have had the same worries for the future. Growing up, I heard my grandparents and parents, and many others of their generations, say things like, “Even though I lived through two World Wars I’m so glad I lived when I did. I dread to think what the future holds…”

I suppose they worried over the propensity of atom and hydrogen bombs and the Cold War; the rapidly increasing numbers of unmarried mothers and divorces, the exponential increases in crimes of all kinds but especially violent crimes, and the unheralded rush of people to the ever-expanding sinful cities. But we survived everything they worried about, and more. We dealt with it, so why don’t we have faith in our grandchildren that they will handle a changing challenging world just as we did, and all will be well? This future-fear just seems to go with the territory. I bet there were oldies sitting round campfires shaking their heads over the invention of the wheel, and surely Adam and Eve knew that the Garden was going to need environmental protection from the ravening hordes of the younger generations.

We can’t see the future and so we fear no good will come of it. We prefer, more and more the longer we live in Old Age, the past. And probably we remember it through ever more rosily tinted glasses. The journey to Old Age seems shorter, more condensed, as I age. My sense of time past is a little skewed. Not long ago I chanced to refer, to some young thing, to the fact that we all remember where we were when Kennedy was shot. The look I got caused me to pause for calculation. Of course, not only was this teenager not yet born on that dark November day in 1963: neither were his parents.

But there is one wonderful, wonderful, thing about life in Old Age. I am finally, completely, at peace with who I am, relaxed comfortably in my skin, and I believe many other oldies are too. And I am not just talking about GLBT people; I think it’s true for many of any persuasion. After what for some has been almost an entire lifetime’s struggle, we can relax. We know who we are, we are who we are, and we are all done apologizing for it, even, or perhaps especially, to ourselves. It’s something of a paradox, as I have just said that I sometimes can scarcely recognize this oldie me. But I am more than simply the sum of all I feel, see, hear, and do.

Deep inside my spirit is untouched by Culture Shock. I am at peace.

© 23 November 2012

 About the Author

I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25 years.

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Culture Shock by Betsy

It does not take an extraordinary imagination to paint a picture of a rather battered human race populating the planet earth in the year 2100. Scientists are coming up with computer models almost daily depicting a much warmer, weather-beaten, very watery, world.

Consider what some of the models are telling us. This past summer was the warmest on record. June being the 378 consecutive months in which the temperature exceeded the average of the twentieth century. The odds of this happening are astronomically small, yet it happened.*

The temperature of the planet is expected to rise 8 degrees by the turn of the century according to one recent study. This may not seem like an eventuality that could end life as we know it, however, some speculate the planet will become uninhabitable by humans if this much of a rise in temperature becomes a reality.

Ice sheets are melting. Already sea levels are showing a rise as a result. It is estimated that by 2100 some island nations will have disappeared entirely. Coastal cities all over the globe will be under water or threatened by the encroaching sea and millions of people will be seeking higher ground.

Because of increasing amounts of carbon pollution in the atmosphere we are experiencing record, heat, floods, drought, wildfires, and violent weather. Surely everyone is aware of this. We have only to pay attention to the daily news or observe with our own eyes. Still, many of our political leaders choose to deny what science tells us is true. The fossil fuel industry has such a strangle hold on our policy makers that they have been rendered mute.

The last global conference on climate change for world leaders was not even attended by the U.S. president or a representative. It is true. There are some very pressing issues of major importance which need to be dealt with immediately; such as, the economy, unemployment, federal revenues and the fiscal cliff, regulation of Wall Street, etc, etc.

However, it seems that climate change has to be the only issue that really matters.

Would this not be a culture shock from which humankind will not recover?

If the planet becomes uninhabitable by humans or barely habitable by humans in the next century or two, does anything else really matter?

*Bill
McKibben, Rolling Stone, July 19, 2012
© 26 November 2012

About the Author

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver women’s chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change). She has been retired from the Human Services field for about 15 years. Since her retirement, her major activities include tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with National Sports Center for the Disabled, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and enjoys spending time with her four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 25 years, Gillian Edwards.

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Culture Shock by Will Stanton

The day was sunny and fairly warm for November, so I took a stroll through the park, occasionally having a seat on one of the many benches to soak up the sunshine and to watch the hundreds of geese on the lake. The benches came in handy, considering that it has been a very long time since I was able to take twenty-mile, mountain hikes. My hips were speaking to me, so I sought out another bench to rest.

The only bench close by me at that moment already was occupied by one older woman. I correctly guessed that she was babushka, a grandmother from Russia. She appeared to be friendly, so I asked if could join her. She seemed glad to have the company and someone to talk to. With her heavy Russian accent, the conversation was more “talk to” than “talk with,” for she did the majority of the talking. That was OK with me because everything she had to say was quite interesting.

It turns out that she is seventy-six, although she could pass for fifty. She lived most of her life in Yekaterinburg, the fourth largest city in Russia with quite a history. Situated in the Urals on the border of Europe and Asia, it perhaps is best known as the location where, tragically, Czar Nicolas II, his wife, and all his children were murdered and then buried in the forests nearby.

Yekaterinburg also is known to be a highly cultural city with ample opportunities to engage in the arts. In addition to all of its educational facilities, it has more than thirty museums, plus several theaters, concert halls, and opera houses. Several world-famous operas singers got their start in Yekaterinburg.

This loquacious babushka explained that society there just assumes that good culture should be part of everyone’s life. Consequently, children are brought up to appreciate and to participate in music and the arts and to be familiar with great literature. As it turns out, these pursuits are not just simple hobbies; the families take them seriously. Before she acquired a degree in architectural engineering, she first acquired a degree in classical piano performance. Now that is dedication!

She went on to talk about her family: her husband, her daughters, and her grown granddaughters. Yes, her daughters also acquired degrees in music before pursuing degrees in their chosen professions. Now her granddaughters just have completed their music degrees in Boulder.

Babushka says that she very much misses her home and all the cultural opportunities left behind, but she came to America because of her family. Her husband was offered a good job opportunity as an environmental planner here in America. He accepted it and moved here by himself. His wife chose to remain behind at home. Eventually, their daughters joined their father in America, and Babushka was left alone. Family is most important to her, so finally she joined the family here.

There are many things that she likes about America; however, she has noticed a major difference in culture here. There are some of the same cultural advantages here as in her homeland, but at a very reduced scale and with fewer and fewer people who truly are interested. There appears not to be the same society-wide appreciation of the arts among the population or understanding that incorporating arts and music into one’s life not only enriches human life but also, as proved by several psychological / educational research studies, enhances the ability to learn other disciplines, a concept apparently lost upon school districts that eliminate the arts first from their school programs as “non-essential.”

I understood what she was talking about. Since my childhood, the vast majority of classical music radio stations in America have been disbanded because of rapidly dwindling listenership and advertising income. Throughout America over the last generation, the country has lost dozens of symphonies, theaters, opera companies, ballets companies, and school arts and music programs.

A few years ago, the Denver Symphony could not afford to keep going and was disbanded. Apparently, Denverites will pay hundreds or even thousands of dollars to go to football games and rock concerts, but many far-less pricey symphony tickets were left half-unsold. World-famous musicians would arrive on stage to the embarrassing view of oceans of empty seats. The failed symphony finally was replaced with the Colorado Symphony. Then just last year, most of the board left out of frustration, and the symphony again came close to closing. It is keeping barely alive by cutting the number of concerts, minimizing salaries, and traveling to other venues with small groups of musicians to perform for a handful of listeners.

Other societies have a far different view from America. For example, Germany funds their national arts programs at a rate of dozens of times higher per capita in contrast to America. They give government funding to symphonies at a rate of 25 times that of America and opera companies at 28 times. In contrast, Romney said that he would eliminate all government support for the arts in this country, and he’s not the only one to say that. Like many politicians the past thirty years, he believes in so-called “small government” – – except of course in the cases of increasing military spending, intruding into people’s private lives, dictating women’s health choices, pushing religious beliefs into school science programs, gutting the worker’s unions, and suppressing the right to vote. Within the total military expenditures for each year, a tiny fraction of goes to supporting military marching bands; yet that amount of money is so huge in contrast to what is provided currently to the National Endowment for the Arts that this sum could resurrect and support twenty full-time symphony orchestras at $20 million a piece plus give 80,000 musicians, artists, and sculpture an annual salary of $50,000. But, the “cut-the-budget” power-brokers in Congress never would do that.

During World War II, Britain’s finance minister recommended to Winston Churchill that they cut arts funding to better fund the war effort. Churchill’s response was, “Then what are we fighting for?” There are numerous sociological and psychological articles written and available for reading about the essential need for the arts to develop and maintain a civilized nation with civilized people.

Another example of how culture has declined in America can be seen in what recordings the majority of Americans choose to buy. Just ten years ago, the local Barnes and Noble on Colorado Boulevard carried, in a large percentage of the media room, hundreds of classical recordings on CDs and DVDs; and their staff were graduate students from the D.U. School of Music. That large display area continually shrank until only one small area by the back wall contained classical music, and the only clerk was a high-school graduate who admitted that she had no background in music at all. With the recent renovation of the store and the reduction of the media area to a minor space off to the far side, the stock has been minimized to virtually nothing.

Then I recently stopped in Target just to check out their DVDs. They had only about a half-dozen of real quality and interest to me, five of which I already had, and absolutely no classical CD section at all among the rap, heavy-metal, hip-hop, country-western, pop, rock, and TV soundtracks. That is what sells in America with recordings, live concerts, radio and TV, and even the music chosen for background noise even in so-called good restaurants.

Quite obviously, our country has developed different priorities and values from that of many other advanced nations. I recently finished watching the BBC production of John Carré’s “Tinker, Taylor…” One particular quotation caught my attention. In questioning one of the characters in his story as to why he was so unhappy with America, the man replied, “Do you know what the problem is…? Greed, and constipation…morally, politically, aesthetically.” If that statement seems extreme, the sad fact is that many people hold the same feelings. Unfortunately since the book was written around forty years ago, a similar view of America has persisted among many foreign nations in particular. This cultural difference between the grandmother’s home and what America has become has not been lost upon her, either.

So, the grandmother, obviously proud of her family and all their accomplishments, laments the culture shock that she has experienced. She appreciates her chance to come to America and to be reunited with her family. Yet at the same time, she speaks with fondness and nostalgia of her once having lived in an environment of great cultural opportunity.

I was sure that she had much more to talk about, and I would have been glad to have heard more; however, the sun was going down, and the air quickly was becoming chilly. Even my personal, extra insulation was not enough to stave off the growing cold. So, I thanked her for her conversation, bid her farewell, and headed home, all the time weighing the possible social and personal implications of her reported culture shock.

© 20 November 2012

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

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Culture Shock by Donny Kaye

For all those years that I existed in
the closet I had an impression of what homosexual culture was.  My narrow
perspective was formed by the very same institutions and people that had
created in me the sense that who I was and the sexual energy that stirred in me
was wrong, something to be changed,  Something that even warranted a death
sentence.

I was confident that I would be regarded as dark and sinful and lacking in
moral integrity. I learned from the culture in which I existed there had to be
a sense of moral depravity on the part of those who engaged in homosexual
behavior.   

The culture taught that homosexuals were degenerates and even a threat to the
sanctity of American family values.  Certain politicians had identified
for the American public that homosexuals, especially those who asked for their
rights to marry were no different than terrorists.

Homosexual acts and those who committed them had always been described in less
than flattering terms. After all, gay men were the equivalent of dog fuckers!
Jokes abounded about the likes of homosexuals.  Homosexuals were seen as a threat to all
things decent and good.  Sodomites. Psychiatric nut cases.  Child
molesters. In the minds of some, homosexuals were regarded as “The Revolution”.

As a man of a certain sexual persuasion, I existed in the closet with greater
intensity, extremely fearful of the culture that I would enter if I were ever
courageous enough to step through the door that I had locked and sealed so many
years ago.  Even though I knew who I was, or at least of the sexual energy
that stirred in me, I felt the guilt and the shame from the cultural
understandings of homosexuality by association. 

The shock of the homosexual culture as described by the predominant culture was
so intense, disgusting and terrifying that the thought I could ever cross the
threshold of the doorway, kept me from the very essence of who I am. To enter
such a culture seemed an impossibility. 

At this time in my life the true shock for me that is experienced is in the
disgust I hold for those who perpetuate the lies, judgments and condemnation of
this culture, my culture. 

What I found, once I found agreement
within me to cross the closet threshold and enter the culture that I had feared
for so long; my judgments, my concerns and my fears were immediately disproven.
I read a quote of Dan Savage’s which
begins to address the experiences I am having as I coexist in this family I am
coming to know as my family of choice. 
“…what goes down under my roof is a social conservative’s wet
dream.” 
Within the container of my family of
choice I am in the experience of profound compassion, the expression of deep
caring and consideration, and a refreshing occurrence of people existing with
one another in truth. Yes, there are exceptions but isn’t that true
generally?  There seems to be an
increased level consciousness that I experience as I interact with my newest
family members.  I am realizing that for
the most part they act with integrity, openness and a deep sense of personal
responsibility.  They exist with dreams
and a propensity toward creating peace and living consciously. 
My Friday night experiences on the
dance floor at Charlie’s attest to the capacity of diverse people to coexist
with one another in a spirit of celebration and lightness.  Men dance with men, women with women in some
instances.  And at the same time there
are hetero couples moving about the floor, alongside men following the lead of
their female partners.  Some of the
individuals on the floor are dressed in drag, either feminine or
masculine.  Manly men, gorgeous women,
dykes, butch, fem, it doesn’t seem to matter. 
Old coexist with young.  Black
with white, all the demographics I was taught to fear move in unison to the
music, most significantly with engaging smiles, occasional winks and
always  a parting hug as the music stops
and couples move from the dance floor back into the whole of human kind. 
This is my culture.  It reflects consciousness and allowance for
each to be precisely themselves.  It is
sensible, and reflects hope and desire to live peacefully with the rights of
individuals, assured and respected. It is a culture that reflects true family
values. 

About the Author 


Donny Kaye-Is a native born Denverite. He has lived his life posing as a hetero-sexual male, while always knowing that his sexual orientation was that of a gay male. In recent years he has confronted the pressures of society that forced him into deep denial regarding his sexuality and an experience of living somewhat of a disintegrated life. “I never forgot for a minute that I was what my childhood friends mocked, what I thought my parents would reject and what my loving God supposedly condemned to limitless suffering.” StoryTime at The Center has been essential to assisting him with not only telling the stories of his childhood, adolescence and adulthood but also to merely recall the stories of his past that were covered with lies and repressed in to the deepest corners of his memory. Within the past two years he has “come out” not only to himself but to his wife of four decades, his three children, their partners and countless extended family and friends. Donny is divorced and yet remains closely connected with his family. He lives in the Capitol Hill Community of Denver, in integrity with himself and in a way that has resulted in an experience of more fully realizing integration within his life experiences. He participates in many functions of the GLBTQ community.

    

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Culture Shock by Michael King

I’ve had numerous experiences where I found myself in situations, environments or places that were so different than what I could have expected. The most profound was returning to the states after two years in Southeast Asia. I had thought that I was involved in an honorable and positive cause. Arriving in uniform as was required, my family and I came from the airport into San Francisco.

When I left the states no one wore long hair like we saw in downtown, nor dirty, ragged clothing, beads etc. What really surprised me were the anti-war and anti-military signs and attitudes. I think I remember being spit on. I still remained in the air force for another year during which time I was looking at my options for when I would return to civilian life. I was up for promotion to major, but knew that would mean a military career. I did well as an officer, however my heart wasn’t in the military and I had to get out and find a place where I could make a living for my family as well as somewhere that I could possibly feel comfortable.

I knew that to return to New Mexico or Kansas was not an option. Neither was anywhere else that I had been or even visited. Finally I decided on Hawaii as the only option. We moved there and entered a different world. I loved it. But in some ways it took some effort to adjust to that culture also. After about seven years with one of those living in Portland, having been a single father which was frowned on, I had remarried and realized it was again time to relocate. We ended up in Denver. Another culture shock, I had difficulty finding a job using the skills from the past until finally I got a job as an art therapist at the Children’s Asthma Research Institute and Hospital.

I had a degree in education focusing on childhood development and had another major in art with enough credits in psychology to have moved in that direction. The combination was perfect for this residential treatment center. I had another wonderful seven years there. It now seemed that six or seven years were how long it lasted with everything I did, each time becoming a part of a different culture. And since I never developed street smarts, I am always surprised with each new environment. I think that street smart people learn at a young age to see their surroundings more clearly without the glorious and wonderful expectations that soon become challenging disillusions. Otherwise it has been for me a series of continuing culture shocks in which I have to readjust my thinking and my dreams of a glorious and perfect life in a world of progress, hope and kindness.

Last evening we watched the movie “The Man from La Manchaca”. I have a different slant on things but the idealism, hope and glorious potentials for the human race is still in my thoughts and actions as I see the sad inhumanity to others in the homes, the workplace, the corporate greed, the national propaganda and lies, the aggression on the innocent, the helpless and those who don’t fit into the accepted molds of the culture that dominates where they are.

I am rather glad that I have been the dreamer and tried to live a perfect life in a perfect world. I see no good reason why my dream shouldn’t be the way things are, except that we probably need the experiences and challenges to grow, mature, learn tolerance, understanding, have causes to work for, perhaps a mission in life or an opportunity to be of service and gain the self-respect that brings about peace of mind and a sense of purpose.

I’ve owned my own business, worked in retail, volunteered, worked in retirement communities, traveled and have had loving relationships that for a while were quite excellent. I have also experienced failures and defeat, joy and depression, hope and hopelessness. Love and hate. I’ve had a lot of surprises and have been shocked many times in many cultures. Most times because seeing the surroundings and attitudes of those around me differed dramatically from my expectations and the amount of experience that I had at any given time.

I have been perpetually naïve, but I trust that the ideals and dreams are but the reality that will exist in eternity.

I choose to live as a loving and sincere dreamer, always thankful and willing to face the next culture shock.

© 24 November 2012

About the Author


I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities,” Telling your Story”,” Men’s Coffee” and the “Open Art Studio”. I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

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Are We in Indonesia Yet? by Nicholas

      I’ve heard it said that you have to learn
some language by a very early age—say, four or five or six—or you will never be
able to learn any language. And once you learn any language, you can,
theoretically, learn any other language. Of course, most of us have sat through
enough Spanish, French and German classes to know that that part of the theory
is questionable. The point is that one’s brain must develop its language
capacity early in life or it is lost forever, that part of your brain just
won’t grow.
      I sometimes feel that way regarding what
is usually referred to as “technology,” meaning computers and all their spawn,
i.e., iPads, tablets, nooks, kindles, iPhones, 3G, 4G, and, OMG, I don’t know
how many other devices or apps. Though I am at least primitively computer
literate, I fear that whole new languages are now in common use about which I
know nothing. And it may be too late for my aging brain to learn them.
      Over the years I’ve worked through a number
of stages in my personal relationship with technology. I’ve passed through the
stage of computers being interesting, useful, or even wondrous in their
capabilities. I’ve passed through the stage of thinking, OK, that’s enough—I
can write, cut & paste, send emails, crop photos, research questions, and
get on You Tube. I am tempted toward the stage of concluding that computers are
really a nuisance and I might just one day re-boot the thing out the door. But
then, emails are very useful and where else does one find porn these days?
      Now I am entering the stage of more or
less panic that if I don’t make some big technological leap I will be left
behind like a blacksmith on an automobile assembly line. Skilled but
irrelevant. I do know some basics of computer literacy, but…  Well, the fact that I’m using the word
“computer,” which nobody uses now, given the array of devices available, shows
how far behind the times I have sunk. My fear is that I will not be able to learn
the new language of the moment—they seem to change quickly—and I will be left
unable to communicate with anyone in the world.
      But rapidly mutating technology is just
one of the ways in which I am coming to feel like a stranger in my own land.
Culture shock is getting to be a daily occurrence. Most all pop culture from
music to television shows is a mystery to me. The obsession with money dismays
me. The fondness for states of unreality whether drug or television or church
induced leaves me alienated. And the poisonous and paralyzed political milieu
is depressing.
      I was once in a workshop of writers and a
woman author gave a lengthy description of her process in writing an essay. An
idea will come to her, she said, and she will mull it over for a while which
can be anywhere from a few hours to months. Then, she’ll jot down some notes as
the idea expands and facets of it come into view. Eventually, she will organize
her notes and develop nuances of her argument or narrative. At some point, she
will compose all these thoughts into a coherent essay.
      I thought, that’s me alright and all the
other dinosaurs still roaming the earth. Doesn’t she—don’t we—realize that
NOBODY DOES THAT ANYMORE!!?  This
leisurely process of developing your thoughts to explore nuance, is so
20-years-ago. One doesn’t pause to think things through or just walk around
with an idea until it jells or makes sense. Today, if a thought ever dares to
enter your head, you must get it out, like a virus, as quickly as possible
before it takes root and grows into who knows what. You spit it out as fast as
you can on your blog or text it to your million friends on Facebook. Keep
paddling around in the shallow water because you have no idea of what might be
out there in the depths. Could be something bigger than you.
      It seems that what’s on the surface is
thought sufficient, no need to get below the shiny surface. I remember in grade
school one day we learned how to diagram a sentence. I learned how sentences
were put together and acquired another tool to express myself. I thought, this
is power, knowing this gives me power. I know more about using my language.
Now, sentences are no longer diagrammed. In fact, they’re hardly even used.
What use is a sentence when you have only 140 characters to say everything. But
then, why would you need more than 140 characters anyway?
      I guess I just don’t know this place
anymore. I’m a stranger in my own country. I feel like I’m in a country I don’t
know, don’t understand, and actually don’t like. I might as well be in
Indonesia or somewhere.

About the Author

Nicholas grew up in Cleveland, then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga, writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.