As a little boy, it took me many years until I could have a conversation
with M. Lasagna. Blond, with a solid layered foundation, soft hart, but
with a quite naughty mood after many hours in a high temperature, M.
Lasagna had an exquisite character.
My first contact with M. Lasagna was in my grandparents' place, during the
usual Sunday lunch, at their backyard. Third generation Italians, their
ancestors immigrated to Brazil in the mid nineteen century. My grandmother
was called Nahyr, and her family use to have a pasta factory. My
grandfather, Zizito, was a choir director and a violin player.
This gatherings were social events. In between the multiple loud voices of
these Italian lunchs (and quite silenced ones because of the dictatorship
we were living) I've learned to appreciate my familly and M. Lasagna's
company and also a taste for good cooking and drinking. No, children were
not allowed to drink wine. A beverage made of water, ice, sugar, and a
very small quantity of red wine, was specially prepaired to initiate them
in the culture. It was fun. I miss that.
During all my childhood, I never new that M. Lasagna could even speak,
although I've always had the impression that M. Lasagna was constantly
whispering with my gramma Nahyr. But she was the only one with whom M.
Lasagna were close enough to talk. I could not understand why. With the
others, including me, my brother and sister, five cousins, and many
adults, not a single word was uttered. At least it was my impression at
that time, because later I've learned that M. Lasagna played an important
role in my education. In between burning fire, knife stabbings and fork
piercings, M. Lasagna was saying a lot to me, even though I was not
aware.
I grew up, my grandparents moved to an apartment building, I graduated.
During my undergrad, coming late at night after school, I finally started
cooking more regularly. During that period, M. Lasagna, being a family
friend, was finally my own guest. Only then, I've started to be aware that
M. Lasagna could speak, and later, that a meaningful conversation could be
established.
The first dialogues were not easy. Sometimes the conversation became dry,
very hard to continue, and even to cut and start another topic. Others
have derivated to an extremely cheese theme, and very difficult to digest.
But little by little M. Lasagna though me the right temperature to start a
conversation, that the foundations of any conversation have to placed one
by one, with juice words of agreement and with the write amount of spices
to make that difference that makes a difference. I've listened and learned
lessons about tomatos, wheat, and beef farming. About spoons, forks
and knifes (in that order) , towels, dishes, glasses, water and soap and
fire.
The most important lesson was tricky, but I've learned that I could also
speak and listen through M. Lasagna with and to my other guests. M.
Lasagna is still with me, sometimes for lunch, sometimes for supper. It's
a pleasure to have M. Lasagna at my place, not only because I miss my
grandparents, all gone, but because M. Lasagna, when in a good mood, is
very a nice company. There were other guests too I've learn to interact,
M. Fruit Salad was friend with Zizito, my grampa, besides M. Barbecue, M.
Ambrosia, M. Feijoada, and many others, with interesting stories to tell,
and many things to say.
But be aware, M. Lasagna has a cousin, who is also called M. Lasagna. This
one though, is very fashionable, always come in a frozen package, and by
the way, is dead. To make this one speak, only by ventriloquation. If you
are trying to listen to this one, it will require a more effort, if you
were patient enough.
The end
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
What I want to address with this personal tale, is that objects, tools, or
subjects, can also be studyed as discourse. As such, the stories we tell
through them also have their heros and villains, secondary and main
narratives.
With technology, fantasia and reality, human and non-human, are also
interwined, partially constructed partially discovered. Yes, computers and
people are different, but they are part of the same narrative, our history
as humans. To separate them is to kill the narrative. For some, people
are alive and machines dead, for others computers are or can be alive. For
me people are alive only within an sustainable environment which include
artifacts. There is no life without mediation, without culture, without
community. The pronblem is to introduce this machines thinking that they
will not change this environment, or that they will only improve it.
If we can study text as having different voices, why can't we study
technology in the same way?
Good night and sleep well,
Luiz
_____________________________________________________________
Luiz Ernesto Merkle merkle who-is-at csd.uwo.ca
University of Western Ontario voice: +1 519 858 3375 (home)
Department of Computer Science fax: +1 519 661 3515 (work)
N6A 5B7 London Ontario Canada http://www.csd.uwo.ca/~merkle