KidSpace: Public Places Where Kids Can Be Kids

If I believe what I read in the media (and some bloggers), American parents are getting hysterical about MySpace. For those not in the know (if you’re over 25 but don’t have a teenage child, that likely includes you), MySpace is an online community with tens of millions of members, most of them adolescents and (very) young adults. MySpace allows every member to maintain a personal blog, post photographs and videos, “share” music (only music already on the MySpace system – it works very well as marketing for little-known bands), and be “friends” with anybody who will agree to be listed as your friend.

Young people seem to use MySpace primarily to communicate by leaving photos and comments on each other’s blogs. Bands and, increasingly, filmmakers, use it to promote themselves to the lucrative youth audience.

As is true with almost every Internet community, anyone can join anonymously or under a pseudonym, or even pretend to be someone else. In other words, it’s easy for a 50-year-old pervert to pretend to be a cute teenager (complete with fake photos) in order to pick up innocent young girls or boys. It’s also easy for a 13-year-old to pretend to be 16 (even with real photographs – the way kids are growing these days, who could tell?) and get herself in over her head with an older guy in a way that neither of them intended.

All this is possible, and no doubt happens; with so many members, you’re statistically bound to have a few really bad apples. Does this mean that MySpace is inherently evil and parents should forbid their kids to use it?

danah boyd, a PhD student at Berkeley and social media researcher at Yahoo, studies online phenomena and writes about her observations with wit and wisdom. She vigorously defends MySpace as one of the few public spaces in which American teenagers can hang out (at least virtually) without overt adult supervision.

I didn’t spend my adolescence in the US and am not raising an adolescent there now, so it had not occurred to me that American kids lacked such spaces in the real world. I figured that the Chock’lit Shoppe of the Archie comics had been replaced by fastfood joints, and/or that kids hang out at malls (and spend money – don’t mall merchants love this demographic?).

Apparently I was wrong. Some convenience stores are experimenting with a sonic device which emits a piercing whine that can be heard by adolescent ears but not by duller adult hearing – so it deters the kids from hanging around in front of the store, without disturbing adult customers. Some malls are also apparently breaking up and moving on idle gangs of teens caught just hanging out.

The kids have nowhere to go after school except home, where they remain alone, in contact with other human beings only via the Internet. Hence their need and desire for MySpace.

What a terribly sad picture of adolescent life. Kids need time to get to know each other and themselves in unsupervised contexts. They need to learn how to evaluate situations and people, without the constant presence of a parent telling them what’s good or bad. They need and deserve privacy.

Perhaps part of the reason Italian teenagers seem more mature than American ones is that Italy leaves real public space for them. An advantage of living in a smallish town in Italy is that it’s completely normal for kids 14 and up to hang out downtown, even into the wee hours of the morning (on weekends), and nobody worries about it. In Lecco, the main teen hangout is a pedestrians-only piazza in the heart of downtown, which is also the site of the bar/café favored by many teens.

This piazza is also usually crowded with people of every other age – adults, seniors, tourists, small kids in strollers or on tricycles. There are restaurants and shops and several bars (NB: Italian bars mostly serve coffee). So there’s always someone around to keep an eye on things, including adults who work there or whose homes overlook the piazza. The kids hanging out are not observed by their own parents (eww – that would be gross!), but are loosely in contact with and supervised by older people; the situation is safe for all concerned.

Given the difficulty of duplicating this in an American suburb, I agree with danah – let the kids have their MySpace! It’s sad that that’s all they have, but it’s better than nothing.

Update

May 21, 2006

I was premature in assuming that “the Mosquito” had already been installed in the US – though it soon may be, since the device first came to public attention last November.

I first heard about it from Boing Boing, and here’s an accessible copy of the article they referred to.

KLM Tries Harder… But Fails

In my Silicon Valley heyday I was a Platinum-level frequent flier on both KLM and British Airways, thanks to business class flights from Italy to San Francisco four or more times a year. When I quit Roxio in 2001, I stopped flying business class (in fact flew far less in any class at all), and was steadily demoted by both airlines.

A couple of years ago, after its merger with Air France, KLM began actively soliciting my custom. They made me a Platinum Plus member for life, and sent me a bottle of champagne to celebrate KLM’s anniversary. BA, on the other hand, eventually dropped me from their list, and I never heard from them again.

I am now planning a trip to Singapore and Malaysia for myself and my daughter in June. KLM not only has the best prices, they’ve kept themselves in the forefront of my attention by letting me know they care to have my custom. I think they’ll get it.

I wrote the above before March 26th. On that date, my beloved aunt died in Texas, and I decided to fly there for the funeral (I had already gone twice in recent years to visit her during hospital stays).

I know that there are, or used to be, special fares offered to airline passengers in cases of emergency or bereavement. I also knew, from recent experience, that some international airlines do not now offer such: I had helped a friend book a flight from Milan to Tel Aviv for a funeral, and Alitalia told me they do not offer bereavement fares.

But I thought I’d give KLM a shot, especially in light of the warm fuzzies mentioned above. I logged into the special frequent fliers area on their website and searched for any information on bereavement fares. Nothing to be found.

I checked their online booking system to see how things looked for the dates I needed (I had some flexibility – the funeral was scheduled for the following Saturday – but could not stretch things infinitely since I would be missing work and my daughter school). The price wasn’t ultra-low, around 550 euros each was the best I could figure out in the reservation system. I was half out of my head with grief and not sure I could trust myself to book online without messing things up, so I tried calling the (Italian) customer service number listed there for ultra-special Platinum members such as myself. What I got was a phone menu with a lot of choices, none of which seemed to be “talk to an actual human being to book a flight.”

Searching elsewhere on the site, I found a general reservations number for Italy. Called that – closed on Sundays.

I finally found a booking number in the Netherlands, and called that (international long distance call!). Lo and behold, a real human woman answered, so I explained the situation. No, they don’t have bereavement fares, she said. What they do in these cases is book you at the lowest available fare. (Uh, wouldn’t I have done that anyway?) I asked her if she could book the flights for me, just so I wouldn’t make any mistakes in my state of distraction. She quoted me a price of 1100 euros each. I was startled, to say the least.

“But I just saw a fare at half that on your website!”

“It’s a different market. You’re calling Holland, we can’t access the fares available from Italy. Your best course is to book it yourself on the website.”

By now I was getting irritated enough that adrenaline was clearing my head and confusion would no longer be a problem, but I gave her one last chance to do the right thing:

“I’m a Platinum Plus frequent flier with KLM, I have just told you that I am in mourning and making an emergency trip for a funeral, and this is the best you can do to help me?”

“Yes, it is.”

So I booked my flights online. With Continental. Didn’t save much money over what I would have paid KLM (in fact, it was all so expensive that I have had to give up the Malaysia trip), but I got a far more convenient departure time. The six-hour layovers in Newark each way were less welcome, but we used the time to visit with my good friend Mithu (who works near Newark Airport), and have (well-deserved and much-needed) spa treatments at the terminal.

As for KLM, they’re going to have to try a lot harder now.

another airline saga

Share your airline experiences – who do you like (or not), and why (or why not)?

Stephen Colbert Roasts the White House Press Corps

Comedy Central’s Stephen Colbert was the featured speaker at this year’s White House Correspondents’ dinner. The White House correspondents are, of course, those journalists we see in the White House briefing room, asking questions of presidential spokesmen and (under this administration) getting few answers. Their dinner guests are the President and many of his staff. The event is an opportunity for the two sides to trade humorous barbs in a sort of mutual roast, but the jokes are usually clawless.

Not this year. Standing six feet away from George W. on the speakers’ dais, before a crowd of media luminaries, Colbert (an actor who plays a rabid right-wing journalist on “The Colbert Report”) proceeded to rip everybody a new one, with a biting sarcastic wit that was evidently not appreciated by the President or his nominal adversaries in the press – neither side was spared.

Live coverage of this event was carried by C-Span, the station usually devoted to boring wall-to-wall coverage of votes and hearings in the US Congress. I suspect that relatively few people saw the event live on C-Span TV, but C-Span posted it on their website for a day or so, and it quickly made its way onto popular video sharing sites such as YouTube and the torrent networks, where it’s been thoroughly enjoyed by millions of ravening liberals like myself.

The mainstream media was slow to pick up the story, preferring to focus their coverage of the dinner on Bush’s own act, a comedy routine featuring himself and a Bush impersonator. The denizens of the blogosphere cried foul at the press’ failure to mention Colbert, so loudly that their outcry is now the story being covered, finally, by the New York Times et al. (Some of the press claim that they didn’t have much to say about Colbert’s routine in the first place because they didn’t find it funny.)

Whether or not the mainstream media tried deliberately to ignore Colbert, the role of by the Internet has been critical: the event was widely seen because it was distributed online where everybody could judge for themselves, regardless of whether the press chose to cover it. Copyrights be damned – this is important! Somebody finally got through Bush’s protective bubble, right in the face of the professional press who have so notably failed to do so. Chalk one up for the forces of online democracy.

Cambio di Stagione – Changing Seasons in Italy

For several days last week, the spare bed in my studio was covered in piles of winter clothing. Mimma, the wonderful woman who cleans our house, would normally be unable to tolerate such a state of disorder, but she merely looked at it and observed: “Cambio di stagione.”

“Change of season” isn’t a precise period on the calendar – the weather varies from year to year, and this year has been unusually cold – but it’s a biannual ritual and, to some extent, a frame of mind.

Few Italian homes have American-style built-in or walk-in closets (though we all wish they did!). Some have old-fashioned wooden wardrobes, but more often you see enormous units that cover an entire wall and go all the way up to the (high) ceiling, custom made to fit the room, and installed by professionals. These are split into two vertical sections, with bars for hangers on both levels and shelves all the way to the top, which can only be reached if you’re standing on a ladder.

Hence the cambio di stagione, when you move your winter clothes up to long-term storage and your summer clothes down within easy reach (and, in fall, the reverse). It’s also a good time to review your wardrobe and realize just how many things you never wore the entire season – maybe it’s time for those to go to charity. So my bed was covered in piles to be stored and piles to be un-stored, while a good part of floor is still occupied by large bags of clothing to give away.

Cambio di stagione also refers to the period of unstable weather that occurs as winter turns to spring to summer to fall and back to winter, when you may suddenly find yourself over- or underdressed because the weather did something you weren’t expecting. It’s considered hazardous to your health: every little sniffle you get at these times is attributed to cambio di stagione, when your defenses are down as your body adjusts to the new season.

I used to scoff at this, but it makes sense when you consider that Italians live closer to the seasons than Americans do. American homes, offices, and public spaces tend to overcompensate for the weather, being overheated in winter and overcooled in summer. The net result is that you can (indeed, must) wear much the same clothing all year round, just throwing a coat over it in winter. You get from place to place in a climate-controlled car, and the only time that most Americans face the elements is when they choose to do so, for recreational purposes.

In Europe, people more often travel by public transport and on foot, so nature is a force to be reckoned with. Trains are usually heated, but the platform you stand on to wait for them is exposed and windy. Milan’s Central Station is made up of huge volumes of space, impossible to heat and bitingly cold in winter (though pleasantly cool in summer). Even the underground metro stations, with a wind howling down the tunnels, can be miserable in cold weather – and the trains surprisingly hot when packed with sweaty bodies at any time of year.

Hence our seasonal vulnerabilities. This year, the cambio di stagione got me with a vengeance: no mere sniffle, but full-on bronchitis. I must be becoming Italian.

Trainwriting

Visit the new gallery here.

One that got away: I didn’t get a picture of it, but a few months ago, coming into Milan’s Central Station, I saw a train engine on which someone had scrawled: “Sex is boring” (in English). Poor dear. Must be doing something wrong.

Graffiti-ers in Italy are called “writers” (using the English word). They often decorate the commuter trains. Which look better this way, really.

One artist added this motto: “Colora et labora” – paint and work).

The lower-quality photos were taken with my cellphone, during the time that my digital camera wasn’t working.

Too much window coverage on these (above and below).

Italian train graffiti

my full collection of train graffiti

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia