Chris is back from Wales, where he worked on the new record by Super Furry Animals. The band decided to document the entire production process:
Super Furry Animals are never ones to stay still creatively, and with their forthcoming (currently untitled) 9th studio album they have decided to document the process on 4 individual hand held cameras. But this will be no ordinary “the making of the album” story; it’s a series of Warhol-like observations, of a band putting the finishing touches to songs, a celebration of the banal nature of the mixing process. Whole chunks of time seem to vanish at twice the speed over a slow game of darts or the making of a cup of tea as a song is played on repeat 26 times on the mixing console.
Inspired by Mike Figgis’s ground breaking film Time Code, the episodes will be released in 21 individual episodes starting on the 23rd February, 8p.m.GMT through this site.
“Ah! Greetings friends, join us for the next few weeks as we finish up our new album for your ears. We have borrowed 4 video cameras from friends and family and we will document events as they unfold, hopefully with as little drama as possible.”
— The Film Council of SFA.
Check out the proceedings at the SFA web site. Chris is the one without the Welsh accent, seen in the bottom two frames here (from day 2):
Pastina is little pasta shapes, often used in soups. In Italian families it’s also baby food, usually boiled and served plain or with some butter mixed in. When I saw this recipe for a variation on French onion soup, I had to overcome my small pasta prejudice. I’m glad I did, because I’m adding this recipe to the “keeper” category.
Here’s what I started with:
Not too many ingredients – 1/2 pound of pasta (I used acini de pepe), beef stock (which I made while cooking boeuf bourguignon), two large onions (one pound), a teaspoon of flour, and 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme.
The key to good caramelization of the onions, which is the backbone of the recipe, is to slice them as thinly as possible. I used a hand-held mandoline, which produced paper-thin onion slices. They went into a pot with two tablespoons of olive oil set over medium high heat.
I stirred the onions every five minutes. When the bottom of the pot developed a good, crusty fond, I added a quarter cup of the beef stock and stirred to dissolve the brown bits. I did this twice; the third and final time I added a quarter cup of dry sherry, a traditional addition to onion soup. After a bit more than half an hour I wound up with caramelized onions:
I removed a few tablespoons of the onions for a garnish. I sprinkled the flour over the onions in the pot and stirred until I couldn’t see any floury bits. Then I added 3 1/2 cups of beef stock, which had been simmering while the onions cooked. I brought the mixture to a boil, added the thyme, then lowered the heat to a simmer. After correcting the seasoning with salt and pepper I added the pasta, covered the pot, and cooked until the pasta was al dente.
While the pasta cooked, I heated a nonstick pan over medium low heat. Using a round biscuit cutter as a guide, I added 1 1/2 tablespoons of grated parmesan to make four circles:
When the cheese started to brown at the edges, I flipped it over and crisped the other side:
The pasta was ready by the time the crisps were finished. The recipe calls for stirring in additional parmesan, but I used shredded gruyere instead. It’s the traditional cheese topping for the gratinee version of onion soup, and I had some left over.
The pasta went into bowls, topped with the resreved onions, some chopped parsley, and the parmesan crisps:
The pasta was the ideal hybrid of onion soup and a good risotto. The pasta starch made the soup creamy, but it still retained the strong onion flavor of the traditional version – minus the soggy crouton. The nutty gruyere was a nice contrast to the sharp, salty parmesan crisp. I served a simple green salad on the side to provide a light, crunchy contrast to the hearty dish.
After overcoming his aversion to the parmesan crisp (“What’s that funky smell?”), Miles gave the dish a thumbs up. Definitely a keeper.
PepsiCo, it its unrelenting desire to maintain parity with the Coca Cola Company, has managed to create its own “New Coke” debacle. Their mis-step, however, had nothing to do with the taste of a product, but with its appearance. I’m talking about Tropicana orange juice.
We are all familiar with the Tropicana logo: the orange with the straw sticking out of it. It was the perfect icon for the carton’s contents: fresh orange juice. As the product line expanded – no pulp, some pulp, lots o’ pulp – a brightly colored banner was added to the top of the carton. You didn’t even need to read to get the right juice, just grab the box with the orange/straw and the red (or blue, or green) banner.
Someone at Pepsi, probably the same person who redesigned the soda cans to make them identically confusing, decided to apply the same redesign – and I mean the same, down to the typography – to Tropicana juice, with predictable results:
At first glance, this display could be Wal-Mart brand juice. The iconic logo is gone. The bold, green Tropicana typography is gone, replaced by generic sans-serif blandosity. The level of pulpiness is now indicated by the shading of the juice in the glass, forcing you to learn a new – and much less distinguishable – color/pulp rating. The only good thing about this design is the cap, which is now shaped and textured like an orange half.
This week PepsiCo acknowledged their mistake. They will be returning to the old Topicana design program. If they’re smart, they’ll retain the new cap, but smart hasn’t been one of their operating principles as of late.
U2’s Bono loves to talk to his audience during instrumental breaks. He usually goes on about politics or saving the planet, but every now and then he engages in Joycean free association (it must be a Dublin thing). If you’re a die-hard U2 fan, you have heard Bono say “… reach out to Someone and the Somebodies …” at the 2:34 mark in “11 O’Clock Tick Tock,” a live performance that first appeared as a B side on the “Fire” double single released in July 1981.
What the hell was Bono on about? There are a few clues scattered throughout the rest of the show from which that live track was selected. That performance, from the Paradise club in Boston on March 6, 1981, is available from iTunes as Live from Boston 1981 – with the venue misidentified as “Paradise Theatre.” During the audience chatter at the end of “Things to Make and Do,” he name-checks Mission of Burma and La Peste, two of the leading Boston bands at the time, both of whom opened for U2 that month. I can state with absolute confidence that Someone and the Somebodies was the third Boston band to open for U2 – before La Peste – and that they did so on the night the recording was made.
How can I be so sure? Because I was there.
I was the music reviewer for The Tech, MIT’s main student newspaper. I had been contacted by the college PR rep for A&M Records, who were the US distributors for Island, U2’s record label. The band had played in Boston once before, late in 1980, but the show had been sparsely attended. (U2 was the opening act for Barooga Bandit, a band that would have died in obscurity decades ago if Bono didn’t continue to mention them every time U2 played here.) The rep was determined to pack the club this time around, especially since “I Will Follow” had become a hit.
And so, I spent a Friday night crushed against the stage, as far away from Bono as I am from my monitor, having my mind blown by a bunch of 19-year-old kids. I took photos, I wrote a review, I even laid out the page in the March 13, 1981 issue of The Tech in which the review appears. The miracle of document scanning and cheap online storage makes it possible for you to enjoy the amateurish critical, photographic, and layout awfulness of my enthusiastic review.
But what about Someone and the Somebodies? That story begins almost four years earlier, in August of 1977, and once again, I was there.
I had arrived at MIT for Freshman Residence and Orientation Week. All incoming freshmen were assigned a temporary dorm room, then encouraged to spend the week checking out any dorm or fraternity in which they might be interested. Since a dorm room was a guaranteed default, the fraternities mounted a solid week of parties and events to convince people to pledge, a bait-and-switch tradition that continues to this day. A few of the guys I had befriended wanted to check out a frat party across the river. Although I had no interest in frats, I had nothing better to do, so I tagged along.
I remember nothing else about that evening except the band that was playing. The lead singer, a hulking biker type in a leather jacket, played a bassoon fed through a wah-wah pedal. The guitarist ran his instrument through a ARP 2600 synthesizer, creating a wash of un-guitarlike noise. The bassist was the anchor, taking on the more melodic vocal duties. The small bespectacled keyboard player was pounding the crap out of the cheap organ that had obviously failed him at a critical moment. The drummer pounded the crap out if his kit, not from anger, but an inability to play at any level other than full-out assault. I didn’t like the music – it was too noisy for my pomp-rock informed taste – but I didn’t hate it.
Skip forward three and a half years to January 1981. I had returned to MIT for winter break, after having taken the fall 1980 term off. My friend and fellow music critic, Claudia Perry, decided to give me a crash course in the Boston local music scene, which began at the legendary venue The Underground. The band performing that night in the tiny space that perpetually reeked of cheap Indonesian clove cigarettes was Someone and the Somebodies.
I was gobsmacked, not because of the music – which was a good set – but because I had seen this band, or one very much like it, years before. The guitarist played through an ARP 2600. The bassist sang lead vocals. The little guy with the glasses was there, but now he was the drummer. There was a new addition – a second guitarist who played rhythm on a 12-string Rickenbacker. So when Claudia introduced me to the band after their set, the first thing I said was “Where’s the bassoon player?”
I think the band was as shocked as I was. They wanted to know where I had seen them before; I responded with the frat party story. I finally learned the name of that band: The Molls, who recorded one single before breaking up and reforming as Someone and the Somebodies. (The name was a response to the unending parade of new wave bands whose names were all variations on “____ and the ____s”.) Here’s the A side of the single, “White Stains”:
The Somebodies were considered one of the hottest band in the city. They signed a record deal with Modern Method, the house label for the Newbury Comics empire. They won the 1981 WBCN Rock ‘n’ Roll Rumble, a local battle of the bands. They even had a minor hit with their cover of “Workin’ in a Coal Mine”:
They opened for Talking Heads, who were touring in support of Speaking in Tongues. This, along with some opening spots for U2, was probably the high water mark for the band. “Workin’ in a Coal Mine” became a hit – for Devo, who nicked it for use in the soundtrack to the Heavy Metal movie. The Somebodies released another single, and then an album-length cassette of songs, 16. (A quick net search will turn up sources where the 16 tracks can be downloaded.) After that, it seemed the “Rumble curse” – nobody that wins the Rumble becoes famous – took hold. The Somebodies broke up into side projects. Bassist Tristram Lozaw formed World at Play with the rhythm section from the Young Snakes (whose bassist, Aimee Mann, went on to fame with ‘Til Tuesday and her solo career), drummer Jon Coe and guitarist Rob Davis formed Dervish, an electronic trance/new age ensemble.
I still run into Tris at local shows; he’s one of the music reviewers for The Boston Globe. As for the Molls’ original drummer, he achieved some notoriety with his band Volcano Suns, but you might know him better as Peter Prescott, the drummer for another Boston band of some repute: Mission of Burma.
But that’s a topic for another post.
Update (2/23)
I heard from Tris Lozaw today, who provided some additional information:
The Somebodies went on to play 47 dates with U2 on 3 tours.
After World at Play, I’ve played in (among others) Death in Venice, Serum, and Auto 66, the latter a “hillbilly Kraurock” trio with Doug Vargas and Jon Coe. Auto 66 instrumentals have appeared in several independent movies. We probably have enough material recorded to release 10 boxed sets, so beware.
I’m also working in audio, and a CD I recently mastered — A Tribute to Blind Alfred Reed, one of the first country stars — got a 5-star review in MOJO and made it to the third round of Grammy balloting.
Valentine’s Day dessert was a flourless chocolate cake. Not just any flourless chocolate cake, but one that was included in The Essence of Chocolate, the cookbook written by the founders of Scharffenberger Chocolate. The cake had been developed by David Liebovitz during his career as a consulting pastry chef, so the recipe was intended to be as foolproof as possible while delivering a lot of chocolate taste. The published title of the recipe is Chocolate Orbit Cake, but his original name for it, a nod to the hapless pastry chefs who would make it, was Chocolate Idiot Cake. And I was just the idiot to make it.
There are only four ingredients in the cake: five large eggs, seven ounces of butter, a cup of sugar, and ten ounces of bittersweet chocolate (preferably 62% cocoa, preferably Scharfffenberger, which comes in 10 ounce slabs – who would have guessed?).
I chopped the chocolate using the secret method: cut down on the edge of the bar with a serrated bread knife, it produces very fine shavings. I added the chocolate to a double boiler insert with the butter cut into quarter inch cubes.
I set the insert over a pot of simmering water and let everything melt. While I waited, I whisked the sugar into the eggs.
I whisked the melted chocolate and butter together until they were smooth, then added it to the eggs and sugar.
I buttered the inside of a nine inch springform pan, lined the bottom with parchment paper, then wrapped the bottom in two layers of aluminum foil. The batter went into the pan, the pan was set into a roasting pan, which was then filled with boiling water (from the pot used to melt the chocolate) until it came halfway up the side of the springform. I covered the top with another sheet of foil.
The pans were set into a 350 degree oven for an hour and 15 minutes. I started checking for doneness, adding an additional five minutes at a time until I could touch the center of the cake without having any chocolate stick to my fingers.
Once cooled to room temperature, I wrapped the pan in plastic and refrigerated it until the next evening. (Yes, I started this recipe the day before.)
It’s common to serve a rich chocolate cake with raspberry sauce or fresh raspberries, or both. I wanted to try something different. I juiced two blood oranges and added a few tablespoons of blood orange syrup (from Stonewall Kitchen).
I reduced the mixture over low heat until it formed a thick glaze.
Once cooled, I poured the glaze on a serving plate, topeed it with a slice of the cake, and added a spoonful of fresh whipped cream.
This is a very rich cake; I could barely finish my slice. The orange sauce had enough acidity to cut through the dense chocolate, the whipped cream added a ligher contrast.
Try this cake yourself, it’s idiot-proof. You’ll impress your guests and will have leftovers for days.
I have been making boeuf bourguignon for as long as I have been cooking – almost 30 years. I used the recipe in Julia Child’s The French Chef Cookbook for most of that time, until I discovered the Cook’s Illustrated recipe that streamlined the process and produced a decent facsimile of the original.
Diane loves this dish, so much so that I once cooked it on a sweltering August day, retreating to the only air-conditioned room in our apartment to cool off between steps. It had been a while since I made it, so it was the logical choice for dinner this past Valentine’s day. I decided to use Julia’s recipe again, but an updated version that appears in Julia and Jacques Cooking at Home, her collaboration with Jacques Pepin.
It’s important to start a large piece of beef that you can cut into pieces of the size you need. Supermarket “stewing beef” is cut into irregular shapes and is made from irregular cuts, which produces variability on cooking time and final tenderness. I used a four pound beef chuck roast and a block of salt pork:
I cut the pork into long slices a half inch thick, then cut each slice into inch thick pieces. The pork was simmered in water for 10 minutes to remove some of the salt, drained and dried, then sauteed in oil for about 10 minutes until browned. Using a slotted spoon, I transferred the pork lardons into the cooking pot.
What follows is the most difficult part of the entire recipe: forcing yourself not to snack on the crispy pork bits. I tried only one, a measure of love for the dish’s recipient.
During the lardon prep (multitasking!), I separated the beef roast along its natural seams, trimmed away the fat, connective tissue, and silver skin, and cut the cleaned pieces into chunks about an inch square by two inches long. I would up with three pounds of chunks and a pound of scraps. I dried the chunks on paper towels, then added salt and pepper.
I browned the chunks in the rendered pork fat over medium high heat, taking care not to crowd the pan. This is the most important step in the recipe: the beef must be thoroughly, deeply browned. If you crowd the pan, the meat steams and won’t develop the crust required. The browned beef was added to the pot with the lardons, now safe from filching under a protective layer of beef.
While the beef browned (multitasking!), I prepped 1 1/2 cups each of carrots and onion, chopped into 1/2 inch pieces. I piled the pieces on top of a large square of cheesecloth, then added a head of garlic (separated into cloves, crushed, but not peeled), three bay leaves, six thyme sprigs, and about ten parsley stems.
I tied the cheesecloth into a bundle, set in in the middle of the pot (pushing the meat out of the way), then added a large chopped tomato. For the braising liquid, I used a bottle of burgundy (a 2005 Block 45 Oregon Pinot Noir), then added enough beef stock (Swanson’s Organic) to just cover the meat. Don’t skimp on the wine, it’s the second most important contribution to the final flavor of the dish. I usually spend between $15 – $20 on a bottle.
I brought the pot to a simmer on the stove, then covered it and transferred it to a 300 degree oven, where it cooked for two hours.
I took a detour at this point and started a pot of beef stock, made from the leftover chuck scraps, more carrot and onion, some celery, the remaining beef stock from the carton, and some water. I let that simmer for a few hours, then strained out the meat and vegetables.
During the two hour braise, I moved on to preparing the mushrooms and onions. Julia insists on blanching and peeling fresh pearl onions; I took a cue from Cook’s and used frozen peeled pearl onions instead. I added the onions to a pan with 1 1/2 tablespoons of butter, 1/2 teaspoon of sugar, a pinch of salt, and about a cup of the homemade beef stock. I simmered the onions, covered, for 10 minutes, then uncovered the pan and continued simmering until the liquid reduced to a glaze. At this point I added 10 ounces of small crimini mushrooms, and kept cooking until the mushrooms had browned.
When the braise was done, I removed the beef and lardons from the pot and strained the cooking liquid to remove the tomato pulp, seeds, and skins. I returned the liquid and meat the the pot, and let it sit, covered on the stove while I moved on to the garnishes.
Jaques Pepin recommends serving pommes de terre mont d’or with the boeuf, and since I was tired of always serving it with noodles, I thought I’d give the potatoes a try. I started a pot of mashed Yukon Gold potatoes while the mushrooms cooked (multi- oh, never mind) then added the mash to a food processor, to which I also added three eggs, 1/3 cup grated Gruyère cheese, and salt & pepper. I pulsed the mixture to combine the ingredients, then transferred it to a buttered gratin dish and covered with another 1/3 cup of the cheese.
After 30 minutes in a 300 degree oven, it came out like this:
I whisked in a cup of the hot sauce, then returned the mixture to the pot and stirred to thicken. Once the sauce was gently simmering, I added the mushrooms and onions, corrected the seasoning, and added a quarter cup of the wine that would be served with dinner (2003 Ravenswood Dickerson Zinfandel).
At last, time for the final plating:
Did I forget to mention the haricots verts? You know how to cook green beans; these were garnished with shallots wilted in olive oil and fennel-thyme salt.
As I mentioned at the beginning, I have made this dish many times, but Di & I agreed this was the best version to date. There were many layers of flavor going on: the salty pork, the sweet onions, the rich beef, and the bright note from the uncooked wine. The potatoes were a perfect compliment, light, fluffy, and with a little bite from the aged cheese.
Miles liked it as well, even though I had to sell it to him as “beef stew with green beans and cheesy mashed potatoes.”
All three cases have been dismissed in lengthy, complex rulings befitting the extent of scientific evidence and testimony presented to the court regarding the possible causal connection between the measles-mumps-rubella (MMR) vaccine, thimerosal-containing vaccines, and autistic spectrum conditions.
Seidel’s report is well worth your time, but if you want a brief summary, try the CNN article:
In a statement shortly after the release of the decisions, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services said it continues to support research “to better understand the cause of autistic disorders and develop more effective methods of treatment.”
However, “the medical and scientific communities … have found no association between vaccines and autism.”
“Hopefully, the determination by the Special Masters will help reassure parents that vaccines do not cause autism,” the statement said.
Sadly, as the comments section in the CNN post shows, proving a negative never has the same impact as demonstrating a positive effect. It took less than an hour for the vaccine conspiracy theorists to drown out the more reasoned, moderate responses.
A wiser person from an earlier era made the perfect observation:
And do you think that unto such as you;
A maggot-minded, starved, fanatic crew:
God gave the secret—and denied it me?
Well, well, what matters it? Believe that, too.
— Omar Khayyam
I met Shepard Fairey on the corner of Mass. Ave. and Newbury Street in June of 2000. He was climbing down from a utility pole, where he had just plastered his ubiquitous Obey stickers. I introduced myself, he handed me a batch of stickers, saying “I think you know what to do with these.”
When I asked him what he was doing in Boston, he told me he was in town for a showing of his most recent poster work. Not at a gallery – he was considered a “street artist” and couldn’t be shown at the usual Newbury Street spots – but at Smash City Records, a basement level used CD store. I told him I’d check it out, then watched him cross the street and work his way down the embankment to the walls flanking the Mass Pike.
I went to Smash City and bought an artist’s proof of this poster:
On the way back to work, I peeked over the embankment fence and saw that Shepard has posted two huge Chairman Mao “Obey” posters.
Last summer, a new store, Grand, opened in Union Square. The owners were graphic designers, so they filled the store with little well-designed items. They also had their friend, Shepard, put up a poster on the outside wall of their building:
Note the “Obey” in the lower left corner.
Here are some closeups of the smaller frames:
It’s a welcome relief to see this collage, it’s a little oasis in a morass of road construction and shabby buildings.
Not long after this was completed, Mr. Fairey attracted national attention as the artist who created the iconic Obama campaign “Hope” poster, a copy of which now resides in the National Gallery. Although his working methods hadn’t changed, he was now a legitimate artist, and was invited to mount an exhibit at Boston’s new ICA. The grand opening would feature a party at which Shepard was to be the evening’s first DJ.
Until he was arrested by the Boston Police last weekend on two outstanding warrants. It seems he never paid the fine for his 2000 postering of the Mass Pike of the vandalism complaint brought against him by the Neighborhood Association of Back Bay.
This is why Boston will never be a great modern arts center. If the old money doesn’t understand it, it is to be feared or ridiculed. This is the same town that had performance artist Joe Coleman arrested for using an “infernal machine” – firecrackers taped to his chest – indoors (coincidentally, at the old ICA), the same bunch of yahoos who had a terrorist meltdown over the Adult Swim LED signs, and the same idiots who arrested an MIT sophomore for wearing a sweatshirt with blinking lights on it.
I suspect that if Fairey knew that the South End was the hipper neighborhood, and he had targeted his postering and stickering there, that the residents would have thanked him for brightening up the joint.
Maybe he’ll get a presidential pardon – Obama owes him.
I have written previously about the nonexistent link between vaccinations and autism, and the harm that has been caused by the acceptance of this variety of magical thinking.
Yesterday, the Times of Londonreported the results of an investigation into the data collection and record keeping of Dr. Andrew Wakefield, the researcher responsible for publicizing the MMR/autism connection. And, what do you know, he falsified the data.
Let me say that again: He falsified the data.
In most of the 12 cases, the children’s ailments as described in The Lancet were different from their hospital and GP records. Although the research paper claimed that problems came on within days of the jab, in only one case did medical records suggest this was true, and in many of the cases medical concerns had been raised before the children were vaccinated. Hospital pathologists, looking for inflammatory bowel disease, reported in the majority of cases that the gut was normal. This was then reviewed and the Lancet paper showed them as abnormal.
So, in addition to making a definitive conclusion based on a sample of only 12 children (with no controls), Wakefield, unable to find the effect he believed existed, fudged the data to support his ridiculous conclusion. (The Times also published a second article with a patient-by-patient breakdown of Wakefiled’s research sample.)
And the result of the publication of this falsified report? In England,
Despite involving just a dozen children, the 1998 paper’s impact was extraordinary. After its publication, rates of inoculation fell from 92% to below 80%. Populations acquire “herd immunity†from measles when more than 95% of people have been vaccinated.
Last week official figures showed that 1,348 confirmed cases of measles in England and Wales were reported last year, compared with 56 in 1998. Two children have died of the disease.
And it’s having an effect in America as well. At least one child has died of measles, and there have been outbreaks in Minnesota and California. But that’s not enough:
Wakefield has left Britain to live in Austin, Texas, where he runs a clinic offering colonoscopies to American children. He tours the country, giving lectures and speeches against the vaccine, and attracting a loyal following of young mothers.
Wakefield thrives only because he appeals to emotion instead of reason. The science is unequivocal – there is no autism/vaccination link. The February 15 2009 issue of Clinical Infectious Diseases contains an exhaustive review of the studies conducted that disprove the hypothesis. It’s very clearly written, but absolutely firm in its conclusion:
…speculation that an exaggerated or inappropriate immune response to vaccination precipitates autism is at variance with current scientific data that address the pathogenesis of autism.
I urge everyone to read this article. Circulate the link, download the PDF – get the information out there.
Miles came home with his report card today. He’s continuing to make excellent progress, a trend that started last year.
What changed a year ago was our realization that Miles needed help in dealing with anxiety. He’s a very smart boy (yes, all parents say that, but I have empirical data), but he would get frustrated if he didn’t understand something new immediately. He’d get worked up, saying “I can’t do this!” over and over, until a teacher would have to intervene. If the situation escalated further, he would attempt to bite and hit the person trying to calm him down. Clearly, something needed to be done.
About two years ago we were at a birthday party for Joe, one of Miles’ old preschool buddies. Joe had been a disruptive, agitated kid, but when we saw him that day he ws calm and friendly – almost a different person. When we remarked on that to his mom, she told us the Joe had said to her “Mom, I can’t control myself.” Shortly after that, Joe started taking Ritalin, which resulted in his complete turnaround in school and at home.
Joe’s mom also pointed out the other kids at the party who were on Ritalin – everyone except one boy and Miles. It seemed to me that some parents had to be taking the easy way out, or caving in to school-suggested medication. The other boy not on Ritalin was on Risperidone and suffering from one of the side effects – serious weight gain.
All of this was fresh in my mind when we took Miles in for a psychological evaluation in the summer of 2007. We were informed that if we could “take the edge” off Miles’ anxiety about new topics, he might be able to work past it and do his schoolwork. I expressed my aversion to using a hammer like Ritalin when something more subtle might work, so that fall we started him on the lowest possible dose of citalopram, an antianxiety medication. We started to see results within a month: teachers were able to redirect him without him getting upset, he seemed to have a longer fuse.
I watched him like a hawk for those first few weeks, looking for any manifestations of the drug’s side effects. We gave him his dose at bedtime to avoid any daytime drowsiness, but saw no other problems, a status confirmed by our pediatrician.
After a few months, however, Miles’ teachers reported that he had a hard time focusing on his work; his attention was always drifting. It seemed that by attenuating the anxiety we had unmasked an attention issue. Another consutation resulted in another pharmaceutical solution, this time for the lowest dose of atomoxetine, one of the ADD medications. That dose was administered in the morning to avoid any increase in his activity interfering with his sleep.
And, wouldn’t you know it, he’s fine. He’s a happy kid who looks forward to going to school (but still schemes to avoid homework). Once he asked me why he had to take two different medicines. I explained that both drugs would help him stay calm and pay attention so he could make good choices both at school and at home. I was careful to explain that the medicine didn’t make him “better,” but that it helped him become “unstuck.” We both like that explanation.
Here’s Miles demonstrating for us how he behaved before and after he started on his meds:
I’m looking forward to a few more years of good report cards. I know things might change with adolescence, but it will just be another challenge to meet.
