Once again I have shamefully neglected this humble blog. It’s been mostly the usual suspects – lethargy, lack of web-wandering time – but also that life has seemed to slog along without inspiration since my last post. The oil leak disaster has only recently been brought under some type of temporary limited control. Politics? Ugh. I was glad to see the soccer-picking octopus is doing well. I also came across part of a Lawrence Welk rerun that was, well, attention-getting. How to describe it…..it was an old-time tap dancing number, complete with barbershop-style clothes, done to an up-tempo, mostly instrumental (only the title line was sung) version of Sonny and Cher’s “And the Beat Goes On”. My wife and I both stared slack-jawed at the TV for about 15 seconds before the pending onset of stomach cramps induced me to change the channel. But nothing motivated me to apply fingers to keyboard.
Grandbaby, of course, finally did it. Her age can now be expressed in years, and she spent her birthday doing just that, informing everyone who looked at her, “I two!” There were festivities at a local park, where she promptly elevated everyone’s heart rate by climbing (unnoticed until halfway, but to her credit cautiously) up the steps of a 12-foot-high slide, gleefully sliding down, then repeating. Cake, grilled meat and cheap “fruit drink” (the stuff kids like but which has always seemed to me to lack only glycol to duplicate antifreeze) were consumed and presents proffered to the Birthday Girl, who seemed to get the biggest thrill from the bubble-blowing kits.
Two days later I was sitting at another picnic table, this time with roughly a dozen high school classmates on a flatbed trailer pulled by a pickup in a parade. The reunion to celebrate the 30th anniversary of our graduation coincided with a summer celebration in my hometown, so the organizers put together a parade entry, which brought home second prize in a field of about twenty (including a pickup driven by my wife, in the back of which four members of my Mom’s class rode) which we attributed to our distinguished good looks but which may possibly have been related to the kids in the back of our tow vehicle playing musical instruments and providing the kind of cuteness that would appeal to the judges, one of whom happened to be a classmate’s mother.
That same flatbed, now pulled by an antique tractor and further burdened by coolers full of beverages, was part of an afternoon poker run punctuated by random water balloon attacks from other entries, which given the heat of the day were quite tolerable. This eventually became a tour of the town, with lots of comments along the lines of “so they tore that down”, returnees noting the few areas of growth (a classmate and I recalled that there were no houses between ours when we were growing up; now it would be hard to see one from the other) and asking the residents “who lives there now?” Cities have many advantages, but try this in one and see how long you avoid a conversation with the local constabulary. Of course, we weren’t yelling or throwing things or causing any real disturbance, and the presence of farm machinery in those streets isn’t exactly uncommon. Still, small towns have a tolerance for at least certain behavior that belies the general perception of narrow conformity.
That evening we had a class supper with the usual goings-on associated with such functions, including a showing of videos of past reunions, now dubbed to a DVD with some difficulty, since at least one of the older ones had deteriorated. (I really could have lived comfortably without knowing that a tape of video in which I appear as an adult has begun disintegrating due to age.) The gathering was a great source of entertainment for spouses and families from elsewhere, who got background for those stories they had been told, and no doubt heard a few that had been forgotten, perhaps intentionally. My wife enjoyed herself immensely.
Eighteen of our class of thirty (a number that flummoxed a co-worker of a classmate who lives in suburban Atlanta; apparently he couldn’t comprehend a school that small) attended at least some of the activities. One has died, and one has been untraceable. I heard someone wonder why the no-shows who live nearby couldn’t at least drop in for a little bit. I think that, besides the many other possible reasons, the fact that it was potentially easy to do – no travel plans or other arrangements to make - meant it was also easy to forget.
I was able to recognize, at least after a second or so, all but two classmates; one due to his bushy beard, the other….well, no one who hadn’t seen him lately was able to recognize him. Most of us show appropriate signs of wear. One woman is in even better shape than 30 years ago, while her brother – also in our class – is in a nursing home. A wide variety of occupations was represented – farmers, mail carriers, computer technicians, corporate consultants – although, interestingly, no doctors or lawyers.
The people who organized the reunion had compiled a booklet from information provided by everyone, and copies were distributed, along with a list of contact numbers/addresses. There was already talk about the next one, but I didn’t really want to think ahead right then. I preferred just looking back a bit and enjoying the moment. That’s what those gatherings are all about.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Ten Years After
As I was pondering a past personal milestone, it occurred to me that a fair number of the celebrated “events” in our lives - birthdays after the first one, wedding anniversaries, class reunions and many of the holidays - are not actual occurrences but commemorations of past happenings. I suppose there aren’t really that many truly significant occasions, so we get as much mileage out of them as we can.
The event in my life that led to that incredibly obvious observation isn’t one I care to celebrate. At the end of this month it will be ten years since my first wife left me. Hmmm….as I look at that last phrase I realize that it’s not commonly used in polite conversation. When people talk about such things they’re usually less specific; they say “since my first divorce” or “since my first wife and I split up”, perhaps because those phrases sound less accusatory and emotional, and divorcees don’t want to make others uncomfortable by sounding too bitter, especially after a certain amount of time has passed. In my case no such negativity is intended; that’s simply what happened. To paraphrase Jimmy Buffet, I could claim it’s the woman to blame, but I know it’s (partly) my own damn fault.
(I must digress momentarily to note that I can’t help but be a little impressed that Buffet has managed to create a very successful business empire as well as a laid-back, generally positive vibe from a song about a man drinking himself to death. I often scoffed at marketing while I was at KEVN, but sometimes it can do amazing things.)
Looking back at the ensuing months, I realize I definitely bit off far more than I could chew emotionally, resulting in a series of very bad decisions, some of the results of which I will probably live with for the rest of my life. On the other hand, some of those decisions put me in a position to meet my current wife, so I guess I should say all’s well that ends well. Overall, I can pretty easily divide my life into before and after Divorce 1.
Coincidentally, it was at this same time six years ago that my second wife left. What to say about that? Well, while some people can completely mess up their lives with one divorce, I needed two. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. I do know that while there were certainly other problems, a fair amount of what led to Divorce 2 was collateral damage from Divorce 1.
This has been on my mind for another reason: a co-worker is currently going through the same thing. His wife left him earlier this year, and his anger and bitterness would peg meters if such existed. Yet he has already begun pursuing a new and fairly serious relationship. Beyond the general skepticism, the fact that I did the same thing and paid a high price gives me special pause. Yes, it’s entirely possible he found the right woman, and you can’t control the timing. But I can say from experience that the situation is fragile and fraught with peril. I hope in ten years he’ll be looking back at a smaller mess than I am now.
The idea of “getting over it” and “moving on” naturally comes up at a point in time such as this. It could even be said that noting the date is itself evidence of lingering emotional soreness. If so, well, I have heard it said that for every year of marriage it takes a year to get over its end, which means I have four years to go. But I think anyone who has been through a divorce will agree that getting over it and moving on are separate and distinct yet interrelated processes, each with its own pace dictated by the individual’s emotional makeup and personal circumstances (kids’ needs don’t go away while the parent curls up on the couch and cries). The big hazard comes from trying to move on too quickly while still too far from getting over it to make good decisions. That was my failing.
The event in my life that led to that incredibly obvious observation isn’t one I care to celebrate. At the end of this month it will be ten years since my first wife left me. Hmmm….as I look at that last phrase I realize that it’s not commonly used in polite conversation. When people talk about such things they’re usually less specific; they say “since my first divorce” or “since my first wife and I split up”, perhaps because those phrases sound less accusatory and emotional, and divorcees don’t want to make others uncomfortable by sounding too bitter, especially after a certain amount of time has passed. In my case no such negativity is intended; that’s simply what happened. To paraphrase Jimmy Buffet, I could claim it’s the woman to blame, but I know it’s (partly) my own damn fault.
(I must digress momentarily to note that I can’t help but be a little impressed that Buffet has managed to create a very successful business empire as well as a laid-back, generally positive vibe from a song about a man drinking himself to death. I often scoffed at marketing while I was at KEVN, but sometimes it can do amazing things.)
Looking back at the ensuing months, I realize I definitely bit off far more than I could chew emotionally, resulting in a series of very bad decisions, some of the results of which I will probably live with for the rest of my life. On the other hand, some of those decisions put me in a position to meet my current wife, so I guess I should say all’s well that ends well. Overall, I can pretty easily divide my life into before and after Divorce 1.
Coincidentally, it was at this same time six years ago that my second wife left. What to say about that? Well, while some people can completely mess up their lives with one divorce, I needed two. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. I do know that while there were certainly other problems, a fair amount of what led to Divorce 2 was collateral damage from Divorce 1.
This has been on my mind for another reason: a co-worker is currently going through the same thing. His wife left him earlier this year, and his anger and bitterness would peg meters if such existed. Yet he has already begun pursuing a new and fairly serious relationship. Beyond the general skepticism, the fact that I did the same thing and paid a high price gives me special pause. Yes, it’s entirely possible he found the right woman, and you can’t control the timing. But I can say from experience that the situation is fragile and fraught with peril. I hope in ten years he’ll be looking back at a smaller mess than I am now.
The idea of “getting over it” and “moving on” naturally comes up at a point in time such as this. It could even be said that noting the date is itself evidence of lingering emotional soreness. If so, well, I have heard it said that for every year of marriage it takes a year to get over its end, which means I have four years to go. But I think anyone who has been through a divorce will agree that getting over it and moving on are separate and distinct yet interrelated processes, each with its own pace dictated by the individual’s emotional makeup and personal circumstances (kids’ needs don’t go away while the parent curls up on the couch and cries). The big hazard comes from trying to move on too quickly while still too far from getting over it to make good decisions. That was my failing.
The Other Football
I’ve been watching the World Cup and idly pondering big-time soccer’s lack of success in this country. The games haven’t been too bad. While there hasn’t been a lot of scoring even by World Cup standards, most of the games I’ve seen have had fairly aggressive offense and ball movement; there hasn’t been much standing around at midfield kicking the ball back and forth waiting for someone on the other side to fall asleep. Much has been made of Americans simply not liking certain aspects of the game, but I think that is changing as more kids who have played it grow up (I just saw an ad for the local soccer association for kids from grades 7-12).
The big problem is, as always, how to make money at it, which in this country means TV, which (unless someone can figure out how make pay-per-view work) means advertising, to which the nonstop nature of soccer has always been unfriendly. The electronic billboards along the edge of the field seem like a good idea, although I don’t know how effective they actually are. I have noticed a number of points in a game where a billboard-type ad (the company logo accompanied by a quick “this game is brought to you by….”) or an audio-only ad, either recorded or by the announcer, might be squeezed in, although the audio-only ad may not work too well during this World Cup, where I would guess many people are, like me, watching with the sound as low as possible due to the vuvuzelas.
The basic structure of the game actually has one very TV-friendly feature: the predictable length. The constantly running clock, even with some extra time added for injuries, etc., makes it possible to assign a fairly precise time slot with some confidence. For this the willingness to end in a tie, which is one of the aspects frequently derided, is actually an advantage. As someone who frequently had to make on-the-fly programming decisions based on when a sporting event might end and how the network was going to handle it (NBC used to send lengthy teletype messages in advance listing various scenarios and how they would deal with them), I can say that this isn’t a trivial consideration for a broadcaster.
Soccer’s larger problem might simply be finding space. While there are many TV channels out there, only a few offer the ability to attract the large number of viewers necessary to bring in the ad dollars required to support a big-time league, and many of those channels and advertisers already have established relationships with other sports. Advertisers only have so much money to spend, so anything soccer can get would have to come out of another sport’s pocket.
Perhaps the best strategy might be to stay small for now and take the long view, supporting soccer at lower levels to build future fans and players as demographics bring more soccer-raised immigrants into the U.S. sporting scene. Of course, people have been trying that plan for a long time. They just haven’t been able to hang on long enough to see it through.
The big problem is, as always, how to make money at it, which in this country means TV, which (unless someone can figure out how make pay-per-view work) means advertising, to which the nonstop nature of soccer has always been unfriendly. The electronic billboards along the edge of the field seem like a good idea, although I don’t know how effective they actually are. I have noticed a number of points in a game where a billboard-type ad (the company logo accompanied by a quick “this game is brought to you by….”) or an audio-only ad, either recorded or by the announcer, might be squeezed in, although the audio-only ad may not work too well during this World Cup, where I would guess many people are, like me, watching with the sound as low as possible due to the vuvuzelas.
The basic structure of the game actually has one very TV-friendly feature: the predictable length. The constantly running clock, even with some extra time added for injuries, etc., makes it possible to assign a fairly precise time slot with some confidence. For this the willingness to end in a tie, which is one of the aspects frequently derided, is actually an advantage. As someone who frequently had to make on-the-fly programming decisions based on when a sporting event might end and how the network was going to handle it (NBC used to send lengthy teletype messages in advance listing various scenarios and how they would deal with them), I can say that this isn’t a trivial consideration for a broadcaster.
Soccer’s larger problem might simply be finding space. While there are many TV channels out there, only a few offer the ability to attract the large number of viewers necessary to bring in the ad dollars required to support a big-time league, and many of those channels and advertisers already have established relationships with other sports. Advertisers only have so much money to spend, so anything soccer can get would have to come out of another sport’s pocket.
Perhaps the best strategy might be to stay small for now and take the long view, supporting soccer at lower levels to build future fans and players as demographics bring more soccer-raised immigrants into the U.S. sporting scene. Of course, people have been trying that plan for a long time. They just haven’t been able to hang on long enough to see it through.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Sundries
I heard the Spencer Davis Group’s “Gimme Some Lovin” on the radio again, and I still marvel that the lead singer was a white English teenager. I may have to get out my Blind Faith cassette (recorded from an original vinyl LP back when I had a turntable, and now carefully stored along with the album in the depressingly large “Wow, is he old!” section of my closet) for some more vintage Steve Winwood, who is still doing fine.
The recent coincidence of Rue McClanahan’s death and the release of Sex and the City 2 brought to mind an idea for a future movie; put the Sex and the City women in the Golden Girls’ situation. They’re not that far from being in the same age group: Kim Cattrall is actually older than McClanahan was when The Golden Girls started. It wouldn’t be hard to contrive the appropriate circumstances without being outlandish. Death, divorce and/or financial setbacks would do, and would be more believable than a lot of what has passed for plot in that franchise.
I saw a ghost at a stoplight the other day: an unrestored white Vega 2-door, GM’s second attempt at an import-fighting small car (assuming you count the Corvair as the first) apparently being used as a daily driver by some poor unfortunate soul I couldn’t see. Its condition didn’t look to be too bad, and I can’t help but wonder about its history. A long-time owner who has seen no need to change? Hand-me-down teenage transportation? One of those that just got made right and has held up from owner to owner? Possibly a combination of all three; it’s been around long enough.
I’ve been trying to tune out the “political angle” of the Gulf oil disaster because I find it irritating. I keep reminding myself that most of it comes from people who never supported Obama anyway, and that he’s far from the first politician to take heat for things he can’t control, but it still bugs me. I have never been able to understand the idea that the President has some kind of supernatural power to fix incredibly difficult and complex problems or stop disasters. As far as I can tell, he’s done about all he can so far; he’s making sure BP is going to pay for the mess, and he’s trying to see to it that resources are in place to start clean up once the oil flow stops. I have a hard time imagining anyone else doing better. This thing is simply really bad, and it’s going to be bad for a long time. Ask the people who are still dealing with the Exxon Valdez.
The recent coincidence of Rue McClanahan’s death and the release of Sex and the City 2 brought to mind an idea for a future movie; put the Sex and the City women in the Golden Girls’ situation. They’re not that far from being in the same age group: Kim Cattrall is actually older than McClanahan was when The Golden Girls started. It wouldn’t be hard to contrive the appropriate circumstances without being outlandish. Death, divorce and/or financial setbacks would do, and would be more believable than a lot of what has passed for plot in that franchise.
I saw a ghost at a stoplight the other day: an unrestored white Vega 2-door, GM’s second attempt at an import-fighting small car (assuming you count the Corvair as the first) apparently being used as a daily driver by some poor unfortunate soul I couldn’t see. Its condition didn’t look to be too bad, and I can’t help but wonder about its history. A long-time owner who has seen no need to change? Hand-me-down teenage transportation? One of those that just got made right and has held up from owner to owner? Possibly a combination of all three; it’s been around long enough.
I’ve been trying to tune out the “political angle” of the Gulf oil disaster because I find it irritating. I keep reminding myself that most of it comes from people who never supported Obama anyway, and that he’s far from the first politician to take heat for things he can’t control, but it still bugs me. I have never been able to understand the idea that the President has some kind of supernatural power to fix incredibly difficult and complex problems or stop disasters. As far as I can tell, he’s done about all he can so far; he’s making sure BP is going to pay for the mess, and he’s trying to see to it that resources are in place to start clean up once the oil flow stops. I have a hard time imagining anyone else doing better. This thing is simply really bad, and it’s going to be bad for a long time. Ask the people who are still dealing with the Exxon Valdez.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Sex and Oil
And now, two completely different topics.
I have recently had reason to be thankful for one of my wife’s many good characteristics; she is not a fan of the show Sex and the City. This means I have not had to see the first movie and likely will not be going to the second one. I myself occasionally watched the series on TBS, usually with the same mindset applied to America’s Funniest Videos, marvelling at the stupidity that can be conjured up by people. Perhaps if/when the movies come to TV I’ll take a peek. But I’m certainly not paying for the privilege.
As I watch the ongoing oil tragedy in the Gulf of Mexico, I can’t help but feel sorry for the engineers at BP. I went to school with people like them (I haven’t checked , but I wouldn’t be surprised if some fellow alumni are involved in the current situation), and I know they would have thought about the possibility of something like that happening, and what to do if it did happen. I’m willing to bet that there’s a fair amount of “I knew this would happen someday” running through their minds as they scramble to figure out what to do.
Although the oil industry has considerable experience with this sort of thing - oil well “gushers” go as far back as drilling – none of it has been in deep water, so they’re having to make it up as they go. I’m also inclined to agree with Jon Stewart’s observation that the corporate resources devoted to such research have likely been considerably less than those dedicated to getting the oil. So now the bean counters who ignored them in the past scream for an immediate answer to a problem that should have been extensively studied in advance.
If only this wasn’t a common pattern.
I have recently had reason to be thankful for one of my wife’s many good characteristics; she is not a fan of the show Sex and the City. This means I have not had to see the first movie and likely will not be going to the second one. I myself occasionally watched the series on TBS, usually with the same mindset applied to America’s Funniest Videos, marvelling at the stupidity that can be conjured up by people. Perhaps if/when the movies come to TV I’ll take a peek. But I’m certainly not paying for the privilege.
As I watch the ongoing oil tragedy in the Gulf of Mexico, I can’t help but feel sorry for the engineers at BP. I went to school with people like them (I haven’t checked , but I wouldn’t be surprised if some fellow alumni are involved in the current situation), and I know they would have thought about the possibility of something like that happening, and what to do if it did happen. I’m willing to bet that there’s a fair amount of “I knew this would happen someday” running through their minds as they scramble to figure out what to do.
Although the oil industry has considerable experience with this sort of thing - oil well “gushers” go as far back as drilling – none of it has been in deep water, so they’re having to make it up as they go. I’m also inclined to agree with Jon Stewart’s observation that the corporate resources devoted to such research have likely been considerably less than those dedicated to getting the oil. So now the bean counters who ignored them in the past scream for an immediate answer to a problem that should have been extensively studied in advance.
If only this wasn’t a common pattern.
Monday, May 10, 2010
You Can't Stay Here
KELO recently did a story about repeat drunk drivers and why they do it. It's adequate for what it is - you can't expect deep reporting in a minute and a half - but it seemed to concentrate on the drunk part of the situation, while driving was only mentioned as a consequence of the impaired decision-making induced by booze. Alcohol is admittedly the root cause of the problem, but I think the driving part deserves some attention.
Why do these people need to drive? I don't mean why do they think they can, but why do they put themselves in a position where driving must be considered? Usually it's like this: they drive to a bar or some other setting where they're not allowed to stay, so they have to go home or somewhere else. The alcohol-induced poor decision-making kicks in, and the trouble starts. But what interests me is the thought process at the beginning, when they’re presumably still sober.
Assuming it’s not an event that requires attendance, such as a wedding, why go out at all when it would be much safer – and cheaper - to stay home and drink? Use the money saved to get a computer and a good internet connection and wander the web. (Admittedly this is not without its hazards. A friend of mine who regularly did this had to be careful around eBay after a few beers, lest he buy something he’d regret. Also, some of the material I come across seems to have been posted by people under the influence. At least I hope they were.)
I think drinking in the company of others who are doing the same (if not to the same degree), besides providing a more convivial atmosphere, makes them feel less like they have a problem. It’s easier for them to think of themselves as "social drinkers", of which society is much more tolerant. A group of people drinking is portrayed relatively positively in media, especially commercials (with the obligatory “please drink responsibly” in miniscule print, of course). It’s usually the lone drinker who is featured in the ads for treatment centers.
Why do they drive to where they’re going to drink? That’s fairly simple; driving is usually the most convenient way to get there. As for getting back, as many times as some of these people have been caught, they’ve probably made it home many more times, so they always think they can make it again.
There are various ways to deal with this, each with drawbacks that, while usually not major, can serve as excuses for someone who doesn’t really want to change. Having parties at home may be not possible or convenient; there may not be establishments within walking distance; public transportation may not be readily available. Law enforcement can only do so much. The serial offenders have been through all that: many are driving without valid licenses, and some have already done time.
Given all that, the KELO story is probably correct in emphasizing the drinking. Controlling that is really the only single consistent – if not easy - way to handle the problem. But finding ways to get them to voluntarily refrain from driving is worth trying. Then - whatever other problems they may have - at least they’d be less dangerous.
Why do these people need to drive? I don't mean why do they think they can, but why do they put themselves in a position where driving must be considered? Usually it's like this: they drive to a bar or some other setting where they're not allowed to stay, so they have to go home or somewhere else. The alcohol-induced poor decision-making kicks in, and the trouble starts. But what interests me is the thought process at the beginning, when they’re presumably still sober.
Assuming it’s not an event that requires attendance, such as a wedding, why go out at all when it would be much safer – and cheaper - to stay home and drink? Use the money saved to get a computer and a good internet connection and wander the web. (Admittedly this is not without its hazards. A friend of mine who regularly did this had to be careful around eBay after a few beers, lest he buy something he’d regret. Also, some of the material I come across seems to have been posted by people under the influence. At least I hope they were.)
I think drinking in the company of others who are doing the same (if not to the same degree), besides providing a more convivial atmosphere, makes them feel less like they have a problem. It’s easier for them to think of themselves as "social drinkers", of which society is much more tolerant. A group of people drinking is portrayed relatively positively in media, especially commercials (with the obligatory “please drink responsibly” in miniscule print, of course). It’s usually the lone drinker who is featured in the ads for treatment centers.
Why do they drive to where they’re going to drink? That’s fairly simple; driving is usually the most convenient way to get there. As for getting back, as many times as some of these people have been caught, they’ve probably made it home many more times, so they always think they can make it again.
There are various ways to deal with this, each with drawbacks that, while usually not major, can serve as excuses for someone who doesn’t really want to change. Having parties at home may be not possible or convenient; there may not be establishments within walking distance; public transportation may not be readily available. Law enforcement can only do so much. The serial offenders have been through all that: many are driving without valid licenses, and some have already done time.
Given all that, the KELO story is probably correct in emphasizing the drinking. Controlling that is really the only single consistent – if not easy - way to handle the problem. But finding ways to get them to voluntarily refrain from driving is worth trying. Then - whatever other problems they may have - at least they’d be less dangerous.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Not Likeable, But Plausible
It really shouldn’t irritate me as much as it does. After all, it’s a pretty generic question, and one of the most basic, even if the follow-up tends to ruffle feathers. “Do you believe in God?” she asked. She considered it to be answerable with a basic yes-no-don’t know, and I suppose it is for most people. So I guess what bothers me is my own unhappiness with those options, which leads to the question of why I don’t like them.
I think a good part of it is my hard-headed, engineering-school mindset. I’m not comfortable giving answers without justification, and since proving the negative is probably impossible, and God hasn’t seen fit to settle the issue definitively to the positive (which to me is the best argument for negative, but it relies on the assumption that God would tell us of His existence), I’m left with intuition, and I’m not an intuitive person. As for “don’t know”, that is the bane of scientific minds. But in the end I fell back on the old Spock/Data answer: insufficient information.
After that conversation I tried to conjure up a variation of the question with which I could be comfortable. Eventually I came up with this:
“Is there a concept of God that you feel is compatible with the overall state of mankind and the universe?”
Yes, I know the idea that God doesn’t exist would also work. I guess that conversation just put me in the mood for a stroll down Deity Drive. (Large estates on that street. Some remind me of the movie Sunset Boulevard; slowly decaying as they cling to the past. Others look as though they were abandoned during the mortgage crisis; impressive but unoccupied. And what’s with all the plastic flamingos? But I digress.)
As you can see, it’s both more theoretical (not asking for firm belief) and more tangible (actually trying to relate God to our existence). Most importantly for this humble blog, though, is that I can actually answer it. There have been many Gods in human history that did this to some degree - Greek, Roman and Norse mythologies as well as any number of so-called pagan deities. But the more I’ve mulled it over, the better the God of Abraham as described in the Old Testament fits.
This is the God Lewis Black has described as “kind of a prick”, the God of whom David Plotz - after finishing a series in which he read the entire Old Testament, blogging as he went – said:
After reading about the genocides, the plagues, the murders, the mass enslavements, the ruthless vengeance for minor sins (or none at all), and all that smiting—every bit of it directly performed, authorized, or approved by God—I can only conclude that the God of the Hebrew Bible, if He existed, was awful, cruel, and capricious. He gives us moments of beauty—such sublime beauty and grace!—but taken as a whole, He is no God I want to obey and no God I can love.
I find that reaction interesting because it speaks to the human desire that God should adhere to our concepts of morality and justice, and basically be nice. Christians hold this especially dear, to the point of glossing over the explicit examples to the contrary both in their own texts and in the world around them. Lewis Black has noted that the New Testament Christian God seems to be generally nicer than the Old Testament Jewish version, which Christians attribute to Jesus, of course. Personally, I can’t help but connect that to the fact that God is much less directly involved with earthly affairs in the New Testament.
(Explaining God’s apparent decision to adopt a hands-off approach has long been a source of vexation to believers. My completely fabricated speculation that would account for it: God decided “OK, I’ve gotten things going and forgiven your sins; now I’m done. Fix your world yourselves.” Some explicit intervention would definitely settle a lot of things, though.)
I think that conceding the possibility that God may not always be a sweet wonderful being makes Him more believable. It certainly makes it easier to answer another version of my question. When someone considers the sorry state of the world and asks, “What God would allow this?” it’s not hard to point at old Jehovah and say “Look at His record. I wouldn’t put it past Him.”
I think a good part of it is my hard-headed, engineering-school mindset. I’m not comfortable giving answers without justification, and since proving the negative is probably impossible, and God hasn’t seen fit to settle the issue definitively to the positive (which to me is the best argument for negative, but it relies on the assumption that God would tell us of His existence), I’m left with intuition, and I’m not an intuitive person. As for “don’t know”, that is the bane of scientific minds. But in the end I fell back on the old Spock/Data answer: insufficient information.
After that conversation I tried to conjure up a variation of the question with which I could be comfortable. Eventually I came up with this:
“Is there a concept of God that you feel is compatible with the overall state of mankind and the universe?”
Yes, I know the idea that God doesn’t exist would also work. I guess that conversation just put me in the mood for a stroll down Deity Drive. (Large estates on that street. Some remind me of the movie Sunset Boulevard; slowly decaying as they cling to the past. Others look as though they were abandoned during the mortgage crisis; impressive but unoccupied. And what’s with all the plastic flamingos? But I digress.)
As you can see, it’s both more theoretical (not asking for firm belief) and more tangible (actually trying to relate God to our existence). Most importantly for this humble blog, though, is that I can actually answer it. There have been many Gods in human history that did this to some degree - Greek, Roman and Norse mythologies as well as any number of so-called pagan deities. But the more I’ve mulled it over, the better the God of Abraham as described in the Old Testament fits.
This is the God Lewis Black has described as “kind of a prick”, the God of whom David Plotz - after finishing a series in which he read the entire Old Testament, blogging as he went – said:
After reading about the genocides, the plagues, the murders, the mass enslavements, the ruthless vengeance for minor sins (or none at all), and all that smiting—every bit of it directly performed, authorized, or approved by God—I can only conclude that the God of the Hebrew Bible, if He existed, was awful, cruel, and capricious. He gives us moments of beauty—such sublime beauty and grace!—but taken as a whole, He is no God I want to obey and no God I can love.
I find that reaction interesting because it speaks to the human desire that God should adhere to our concepts of morality and justice, and basically be nice. Christians hold this especially dear, to the point of glossing over the explicit examples to the contrary both in their own texts and in the world around them. Lewis Black has noted that the New Testament Christian God seems to be generally nicer than the Old Testament Jewish version, which Christians attribute to Jesus, of course. Personally, I can’t help but connect that to the fact that God is much less directly involved with earthly affairs in the New Testament.
(Explaining God’s apparent decision to adopt a hands-off approach has long been a source of vexation to believers. My completely fabricated speculation that would account for it: God decided “OK, I’ve gotten things going and forgiven your sins; now I’m done. Fix your world yourselves.” Some explicit intervention would definitely settle a lot of things, though.)
I think that conceding the possibility that God may not always be a sweet wonderful being makes Him more believable. It certainly makes it easier to answer another version of my question. When someone considers the sorry state of the world and asks, “What God would allow this?” it’s not hard to point at old Jehovah and say “Look at His record. I wouldn’t put it past Him.”
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Adding Them All Up
My wife and I recently celebrated our third wedding anniversary with a day of delusion, starting with our own episode of House Hunters. While wandering a craft show at the mall feigning interest in a variety of items we couldn’t afford, we found a flyer for a local Parade of Homes, which was nothing like what the title suggested (an actual parade of homes down the street would have been entertaining) but did allow us to wander through six area houses - three that were actually for sale and three that were serving as demos for the builders - pretending we could afford to buy if we found one to our liking. They all had pros and cons as expected, but the house we liked best wasn’t part of the event, but a modular home we looked at on the way home. It was almost exactly what we would want if we were seriously in the market.
We finished off the fantasy day by eating at a local restaurant we normally wouldn’t patronize because we couldn’t afford it. I had lamb chops, mostly because I don’t recall ever having them. The verdict? Well, now I can say I’ve tried them. Actually they were perfectly fine, but somehow the whole experience was a bit of a letdown. I can’t say why; I have no specific complaints about any particular aspect. It is a very nice place, easily the classiest in town. The service was good, the prices a bit high but not unexpectedly so, and we both ate well. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for fine dining.
As the anniversary approached, it occurred to me that I was reaching another personal milestone; twenty years of marriage, in segments of 14, 3, and 3 years. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Is it something of which to be proud? Are we talking about perseverance, or a learning disorder? The fact that I eventually got it right leads me to flatter myself that it’s the former in my case, but there are a lot of people for whom it seems to be the latter; they never seem to consider the possibility that they’re not the marrying kind. Those people rarely reach a large total of years, either because they can’t stay married to anyone long enough (it’s tough to get there a year or two at a time) or their history eventually makes potential partners leery. Four divorces seems to be the point after which people start to really wonder about someone.
What intrigued me was that I couldn’t recall anyone else ever bringing up that type of statistic, and none of the remarried people to whom I’ve mentioned this had thought about it, which upon further reflection isn’t too surprising. For most people a new relationship brings with it a desire to start as fresh as possible; a running total creates a connection to the past that may not be comfortable. In addition, culturally marriage is treated like a winning streak; it’s the current consecutive number that matters. When someone asks how long you’ve been married they mean to your current spouse; if you gave a total rundown you would be regarded suspiciously. There simply isn’t a context in which total married years is meaningful to anyone.
The long unbroken strings will always get the accolades, which is fine given their continued rarity, with increased divorce offsetting increased life spans. Still, the general dismissal of reaching big numbers in smaller chunks is something that may be worth reconsidering as more people who have done it recall its unique aspects. Flying non-stop is generally preferred, but having to change planes, while usually inconvenient and sometimes worse, doesn’t make the trip less worthwhile.
We finished off the fantasy day by eating at a local restaurant we normally wouldn’t patronize because we couldn’t afford it. I had lamb chops, mostly because I don’t recall ever having them. The verdict? Well, now I can say I’ve tried them. Actually they were perfectly fine, but somehow the whole experience was a bit of a letdown. I can’t say why; I have no specific complaints about any particular aspect. It is a very nice place, easily the classiest in town. The service was good, the prices a bit high but not unexpectedly so, and we both ate well. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for fine dining.
As the anniversary approached, it occurred to me that I was reaching another personal milestone; twenty years of marriage, in segments of 14, 3, and 3 years. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Is it something of which to be proud? Are we talking about perseverance, or a learning disorder? The fact that I eventually got it right leads me to flatter myself that it’s the former in my case, but there are a lot of people for whom it seems to be the latter; they never seem to consider the possibility that they’re not the marrying kind. Those people rarely reach a large total of years, either because they can’t stay married to anyone long enough (it’s tough to get there a year or two at a time) or their history eventually makes potential partners leery. Four divorces seems to be the point after which people start to really wonder about someone.
What intrigued me was that I couldn’t recall anyone else ever bringing up that type of statistic, and none of the remarried people to whom I’ve mentioned this had thought about it, which upon further reflection isn’t too surprising. For most people a new relationship brings with it a desire to start as fresh as possible; a running total creates a connection to the past that may not be comfortable. In addition, culturally marriage is treated like a winning streak; it’s the current consecutive number that matters. When someone asks how long you’ve been married they mean to your current spouse; if you gave a total rundown you would be regarded suspiciously. There simply isn’t a context in which total married years is meaningful to anyone.
The long unbroken strings will always get the accolades, which is fine given their continued rarity, with increased divorce offsetting increased life spans. Still, the general dismissal of reaching big numbers in smaller chunks is something that may be worth reconsidering as more people who have done it recall its unique aspects. Flying non-stop is generally preferred, but having to change planes, while usually inconvenient and sometimes worse, doesn’t make the trip less worthwhile.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Some Things Just Can't Break
I've been pondering the recent Toyota woes, but once again had to be motivated by someone else to actually type something up. In this case it was a column by Matt DeLorenzo in the latest issue of Road and Track, in which he cites both Toyota's growth and a slight flaw in the Deming quality control philosophy Toyota follows.
He believed that it was better to establish an acceptable level of quality variation rather than waste resources on trying to reach zero-defect levels. While this concept works well when manufacturers are building hundreds of thousands of vehicles, it works less well when those numbers reach into the millions. Even if a manufacturer hits 99.9-percent effectiveness, that 0.1 percent translates into 1 car per thousand. Multiply that by millions and pretty soon it adds up to a large number.
This isn't really a flaw, just an acceptance of reality. No manufacturing process is perfect. Matt is quite right to note that quality gets harder to maintain at mass-production levels; ask anyone who has to cook for large numbers of people. He also makes a valid point that given today's increased demands and pressures perhaps trying for perfection is worth considering. But he leaves out something I believe is important, which is the need for different standards for different parts.
The reasons Toyota's troubles have been such a big deal are which component is failing and the nature of that failure. Accepting a small failure rate for power window motors or air conditioning compressors is fine. But throttle control is mission-critical. Not only should the goal be zero failures, but more importantly, given the ultimate inability to achieve that goal, allowances for failure need to be actively designed into the system to deal with as many potential consequences as possible In this case, the throttle needs to be designed to not stick open no matter what.
I also can't help but notice that this is part of an electronic throttle system, which is something relatively new to cars, especially at the large-volume lower-priced portion of the market. Companies test parts obsessively, but it's tough to duplicate the ravages of time and varying conditions, and difficult to spot impending trouble with inscrutable electronics. We may start seeing new and unexpected failures as the more recent automotive innovations begin to age.
Matt's mention of schadenfreude at other car companies over Toyota's troubles also interested me. I would hope there's also a a feeling of "there but for the grace of God go I." After all, most parts suppliers, like the company that made those throttle controls, make parts for many companies. There's always the chance that one of them could get that next batch of statistical inevitability.
He believed that it was better to establish an acceptable level of quality variation rather than waste resources on trying to reach zero-defect levels. While this concept works well when manufacturers are building hundreds of thousands of vehicles, it works less well when those numbers reach into the millions. Even if a manufacturer hits 99.9-percent effectiveness, that 0.1 percent translates into 1 car per thousand. Multiply that by millions and pretty soon it adds up to a large number.
This isn't really a flaw, just an acceptance of reality. No manufacturing process is perfect. Matt is quite right to note that quality gets harder to maintain at mass-production levels; ask anyone who has to cook for large numbers of people. He also makes a valid point that given today's increased demands and pressures perhaps trying for perfection is worth considering. But he leaves out something I believe is important, which is the need for different standards for different parts.
The reasons Toyota's troubles have been such a big deal are which component is failing and the nature of that failure. Accepting a small failure rate for power window motors or air conditioning compressors is fine. But throttle control is mission-critical. Not only should the goal be zero failures, but more importantly, given the ultimate inability to achieve that goal, allowances for failure need to be actively designed into the system to deal with as many potential consequences as possible In this case, the throttle needs to be designed to not stick open no matter what.
I also can't help but notice that this is part of an electronic throttle system, which is something relatively new to cars, especially at the large-volume lower-priced portion of the market. Companies test parts obsessively, but it's tough to duplicate the ravages of time and varying conditions, and difficult to spot impending trouble with inscrutable electronics. We may start seeing new and unexpected failures as the more recent automotive innovations begin to age.
Matt's mention of schadenfreude at other car companies over Toyota's troubles also interested me. I would hope there's also a a feeling of "there but for the grace of God go I." After all, most parts suppliers, like the company that made those throttle controls, make parts for many companies. There's always the chance that one of them could get that next batch of statistical inevitability.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Relax and Watch the Show
If you struggled through my previous post (I apologize for not being able to give you back that portion of your life) you probably noticed, as I did, that my contemplation of church attendance was limited to childhood, which is probably insufficient. It has been 30 years since then, and while my churchgoing frequency as an adult classifies me somewhere between (as described by Williams and Ree) a "C and E Christian" (Christmas and Easter) and a "sprinkle Christian" (when sprinkled with water, rice, or dirt), my consideration of philosophical and religious matters has increased considerably. As it should; any such subject considered settled by childhood’s end probably wasn’t decided by the child.
I would describe my relationship with churchgoing as an adult as largely purpose-driven; I rarely go unless I have a reason. Most frequently the reason is domestic tranquility; someone in my family wants to go, so I tag along. My daughter also had to attend as part of her confirmation classes (I figured I’d get her the background and let her decide what to do with it). I’ve been married in a church twice, and there has been the usual assortment of baptisms, funerals, and other people’s weddings. A church building is a nice facility for such ceremonies, even if you don’t care much about the theology that built it.
How I behave depends on the context. If it’s a service with which I’m familiar I tend to treat it as performance art with audience participation and not pay that much attention, although I do keep an ear open during the sermon for a good anecdote or the occasional thoughtful nugget to ponder. Ceremonies I see less frequently (most recently a Catholic wedding) I treat as a learning experience. I didn’t actually attend the most novel and entertaining one I’ve seen. When my brother got married to a Korean Buddhist they had two ceremonies; a Buddhist one in Korea and a Lutheran one here. We saw a tape of the Buddhist ceremony, which of course was in Korean. My brother confessed that he didn’t know what was going on any more than we did; he just bowed when he was told, which is actually a pretty good rehearsal for marriage.
My wife’s statement that we should start going to church is itself a bit intriguing. So often I hear that phrase uttered in a tone similar to someone discussing getting a prostate exam or cleaning gutters. The feeling seems to be irritation and guilt at not fulfilling a disagreeable obligation rather than pleasure, which I guess isn’t too surprising; I suppose if they considered it enjoyable they wouldn’t have stopped. Still, I can’t help but wonder why they want to start again. I imagine it’s that ingrained belief that church attendance is necessary for salvation, even if you get nothing from it. Fortunately I usually manage to derive some benefit, even if it isn't what the church intends.
I would describe my relationship with churchgoing as an adult as largely purpose-driven; I rarely go unless I have a reason. Most frequently the reason is domestic tranquility; someone in my family wants to go, so I tag along. My daughter also had to attend as part of her confirmation classes (I figured I’d get her the background and let her decide what to do with it). I’ve been married in a church twice, and there has been the usual assortment of baptisms, funerals, and other people’s weddings. A church building is a nice facility for such ceremonies, even if you don’t care much about the theology that built it.
How I behave depends on the context. If it’s a service with which I’m familiar I tend to treat it as performance art with audience participation and not pay that much attention, although I do keep an ear open during the sermon for a good anecdote or the occasional thoughtful nugget to ponder. Ceremonies I see less frequently (most recently a Catholic wedding) I treat as a learning experience. I didn’t actually attend the most novel and entertaining one I’ve seen. When my brother got married to a Korean Buddhist they had two ceremonies; a Buddhist one in Korea and a Lutheran one here. We saw a tape of the Buddhist ceremony, which of course was in Korean. My brother confessed that he didn’t know what was going on any more than we did; he just bowed when he was told, which is actually a pretty good rehearsal for marriage.
My wife’s statement that we should start going to church is itself a bit intriguing. So often I hear that phrase uttered in a tone similar to someone discussing getting a prostate exam or cleaning gutters. The feeling seems to be irritation and guilt at not fulfilling a disagreeable obligation rather than pleasure, which I guess isn’t too surprising; I suppose if they considered it enjoyable they wouldn’t have stopped. Still, I can’t help but wonder why they want to start again. I imagine it’s that ingrained belief that church attendance is necessary for salvation, even if you get nothing from it. Fortunately I usually manage to derive some benefit, even if it isn't what the church intends.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Not a Big Deal
The wife said it again. She used that phrase. No, not the dreaded “we need to talk”, thankfully; that one -especially when uttered by ex-1 - has caused me more stomach trouble than flu and cheap burritos combined. (Hmmm…flu combined with cheap burritos. Now that would be a rough day.) This was more benign – “we should start going to church again”.
I know to some people that would be far from a benign suggestion, possibly leading to a rude reply and, depending on who said it, perhaps fisticuffs. In this case both my daughter and I just emitted non-committal but agreeable-sounding hums and kept eating. It wasn’t until later that I wondered why, given how little I usually get out of it, the idea didn’t and still doesn’t bother me more. This led me to ponder my lifelong experiences with churchgoing (Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod to be specific).
I know this sounds odd, but looking back at my childhood I can’t say I thought of going to church in religious terms. It was just a part of domestic life, something the family did. Once there I acted like I think many “heathens” do when missionaries preach to them; I listened, said “that’s nice to know” and got on with life. It simply had no impact on me beyond the practical applications (the non-religious Commandments aren’t a bad guide to living). As for the confirmation classes, I kicked butt. I memorized all the material and could rattle it off like a recording. But here again, it didn’t move me. I observed and understood what it meant to other people, but I was unaffected.
I did derive tangible benefits. I attended some statewide church youth gatherings and had a great time. Those gatherings tended to have many more girls than boys, which was a boon to me; I rarely sat down at the dances, and it was at one of these that I had my first make-out session.
It was at church that I first got some responsibility and a bit of freedom, albeit due to extenuating circumstances. High school boys traditionally served as ushers, but due to a population gap at our very small church I started ushering when I was in sixth grade. (Incidentally, shouldn’t the term be “ushing” ? Drivers drive, players play, why do ushers usher instead of ush? More language mystery.) This meant not only escorting people to and from pews and taking the collection, but getting to sit in a back pew separate from my family; big stuff for an 11yo. As a high-schooler I had my girlfriend sit with me occasionally.
You have no doubt noticed that the benefits were mostly secular, and some were unintended from the church’s perspective. Nevertheless, they were real, and still bring back some fond memories. I also can’t say I was scarred in any way by the religious part of my upbringing, or that its absence would have made my life obviously better. Perhaps that's why I don't get any more annoyed about church than I do about, say, going to a craft show. Church was never a huge bother;It was just part of growing up.
I know to some people that would be far from a benign suggestion, possibly leading to a rude reply and, depending on who said it, perhaps fisticuffs. In this case both my daughter and I just emitted non-committal but agreeable-sounding hums and kept eating. It wasn’t until later that I wondered why, given how little I usually get out of it, the idea didn’t and still doesn’t bother me more. This led me to ponder my lifelong experiences with churchgoing (Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod to be specific).
I know this sounds odd, but looking back at my childhood I can’t say I thought of going to church in religious terms. It was just a part of domestic life, something the family did. Once there I acted like I think many “heathens” do when missionaries preach to them; I listened, said “that’s nice to know” and got on with life. It simply had no impact on me beyond the practical applications (the non-religious Commandments aren’t a bad guide to living). As for the confirmation classes, I kicked butt. I memorized all the material and could rattle it off like a recording. But here again, it didn’t move me. I observed and understood what it meant to other people, but I was unaffected.
I did derive tangible benefits. I attended some statewide church youth gatherings and had a great time. Those gatherings tended to have many more girls than boys, which was a boon to me; I rarely sat down at the dances, and it was at one of these that I had my first make-out session.
It was at church that I first got some responsibility and a bit of freedom, albeit due to extenuating circumstances. High school boys traditionally served as ushers, but due to a population gap at our very small church I started ushering when I was in sixth grade. (Incidentally, shouldn’t the term be “ushing” ? Drivers drive, players play, why do ushers usher instead of ush? More language mystery.) This meant not only escorting people to and from pews and taking the collection, but getting to sit in a back pew separate from my family; big stuff for an 11yo. As a high-schooler I had my girlfriend sit with me occasionally.
You have no doubt noticed that the benefits were mostly secular, and some were unintended from the church’s perspective. Nevertheless, they were real, and still bring back some fond memories. I also can’t say I was scarred in any way by the religious part of my upbringing, or that its absence would have made my life obviously better. Perhaps that's why I don't get any more annoyed about church than I do about, say, going to a craft show. Church was never a huge bother;It was just part of growing up.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A Really Big Deal in Many Small Ways
John Holbo at Crooked Timber has a post that I appreciate in a couple of ways. First physically.....
I’m a lefty, which means I now occasionally Google up things to do with left-handed guitar.
I never tried to learn guitar, but as a fellow lefty (the only one in my family; now my daughter is right-handed despite both her parents being left-handed; I continue to wonder about that), I can sympathize with the struggle to learn to do just about anything. My southpaw status was a source of great consternation to my Kindergarten teacher; her attempt to convert me was only slightly less enthusiastic than that of a new missionary in Africa. My brief foray into golf as a teen was with right-handed clubs, because that was what I happened to buy at a rummage sale; I didn't know left-handed clubs existed. I was given permission to "cheat" in the 10-key adding machine (yes, I know.... once again I date myself) portion of a class in high school by looking at the keys more than usually allowed because neither the teacher nor I knew how to handle my incompatibility with the right-handed layout.
Then there's John's larger point.....
I think about the things that interested me, growing up – like science fiction novels, for example. And comics. And I realize that almost everything I knew about these things that mattered a great deal to me (did you notice?) I learned by talking to about six people, four of whom were kids like me, and going to four different stores in my hometown. (And sex. Did I mention that, as a young teen, I was quite intrigued by the topic of sex, but – sadly – lacked reliable sources of information and reportage on the subject.) I suspect you could provide your own examples, if you grew up pre-internet. And I feel it’s pretty important, somehow, that those of you who grew up post-internet probably can’t provide your own examples. Or rather fewer.
Of course, this is a flagrantly obvious thought: the internet = important!
Commenter Emma added this.
....one was also limited to a much smaller slice of cultural achievement—that which was current in one’s social circle and popular culture. Which led to strange knowledges and huge gaps. I could sing all of Oklahoma, because my parents had the record, but could only listen to the pop music of the actual year I was in, because that was all that was on the radio station I could get on my transistor. You might see West Side Story on the telly, late one Saturday night, and have to wait years to see it again. No culture on demand. No way to know who was the third spear carrier in the back row of the black and white movie who looked strangely familiar. I’m so much less tolerant of those gaps now.
Just recently I said to my wife that I can only imagine how different my very-small-town childhood would have been if the internet had existed. I was recreational reader of reference books when I wasn't wandering around outside daydreaming; my parents would probably have had to throw me outside if I'd had the internet to peruse. I can also only guess what effect the lessening of small-town isolation would have had; as it was TV (non-cable) was my prime source of information about the wider world.
Of course, I see the downside to the internet regularly when I help my daughter search for information for a school report; the huge amount of junk that has to be winnowed. But even this has the benefit of cultivating useful skills such as the ability to corroborate and recognize reliability in sources.
Commenter magistra had this to say.
I think there are a couple of particularly interesting wider issues. One is that the concept of what is ‘normal’ is getting redefined. If you are into China bluegrass or believe in alien abductions, you are no longer an isolated freak (though you may still be a freak); you have support for your interests or views.
As someone who wasn't exactly "normal" growing up (and probably still isn't), I can relate to that.
The other is the increasing significance of partially-reliable sources. If you wanted to know about Blake’s Seven or George III twenty years ago, you could go and find a reference book (which would probably have been edited very carefully) or you could rely on what you and your friends could remember (probably very inaccurate). Now you can go to Wikipedia or other online sites and get information which is probably mostly right, but not as rigorously checked as a book would have been. All this is anathema to proper reference librarians, but for many things, probably/partially right information is enough. I look up several dozen trivial queries a day: not worth going to the library (or even digging out a reference book) for, but nice to know.
Those last few words are a pretty good summary of what the internet has done for me as a generally curious person; it has provided easy access to things (and people) that are nice to know.
I’m a lefty, which means I now occasionally Google up things to do with left-handed guitar.
I never tried to learn guitar, but as a fellow lefty (the only one in my family; now my daughter is right-handed despite both her parents being left-handed; I continue to wonder about that), I can sympathize with the struggle to learn to do just about anything. My southpaw status was a source of great consternation to my Kindergarten teacher; her attempt to convert me was only slightly less enthusiastic than that of a new missionary in Africa. My brief foray into golf as a teen was with right-handed clubs, because that was what I happened to buy at a rummage sale; I didn't know left-handed clubs existed. I was given permission to "cheat" in the 10-key adding machine (yes, I know.... once again I date myself) portion of a class in high school by looking at the keys more than usually allowed because neither the teacher nor I knew how to handle my incompatibility with the right-handed layout.
Then there's John's larger point.....
I think about the things that interested me, growing up – like science fiction novels, for example. And comics. And I realize that almost everything I knew about these things that mattered a great deal to me (did you notice?) I learned by talking to about six people, four of whom were kids like me, and going to four different stores in my hometown. (And sex. Did I mention that, as a young teen, I was quite intrigued by the topic of sex, but – sadly – lacked reliable sources of information and reportage on the subject.) I suspect you could provide your own examples, if you grew up pre-internet. And I feel it’s pretty important, somehow, that those of you who grew up post-internet probably can’t provide your own examples. Or rather fewer.
Of course, this is a flagrantly obvious thought: the internet = important!
Commenter Emma added this.
....one was also limited to a much smaller slice of cultural achievement—that which was current in one’s social circle and popular culture. Which led to strange knowledges and huge gaps. I could sing all of Oklahoma, because my parents had the record, but could only listen to the pop music of the actual year I was in, because that was all that was on the radio station I could get on my transistor. You might see West Side Story on the telly, late one Saturday night, and have to wait years to see it again. No culture on demand. No way to know who was the third spear carrier in the back row of the black and white movie who looked strangely familiar. I’m so much less tolerant of those gaps now.
Just recently I said to my wife that I can only imagine how different my very-small-town childhood would have been if the internet had existed. I was recreational reader of reference books when I wasn't wandering around outside daydreaming; my parents would probably have had to throw me outside if I'd had the internet to peruse. I can also only guess what effect the lessening of small-town isolation would have had; as it was TV (non-cable) was my prime source of information about the wider world.
Of course, I see the downside to the internet regularly when I help my daughter search for information for a school report; the huge amount of junk that has to be winnowed. But even this has the benefit of cultivating useful skills such as the ability to corroborate and recognize reliability in sources.
Commenter magistra had this to say.
I think there are a couple of particularly interesting wider issues. One is that the concept of what is ‘normal’ is getting redefined. If you are into China bluegrass or believe in alien abductions, you are no longer an isolated freak (though you may still be a freak); you have support for your interests or views.
As someone who wasn't exactly "normal" growing up (and probably still isn't), I can relate to that.
The other is the increasing significance of partially-reliable sources. If you wanted to know about Blake’s Seven or George III twenty years ago, you could go and find a reference book (which would probably have been edited very carefully) or you could rely on what you and your friends could remember (probably very inaccurate). Now you can go to Wikipedia or other online sites and get information which is probably mostly right, but not as rigorously checked as a book would have been. All this is anathema to proper reference librarians, but for many things, probably/partially right information is enough. I look up several dozen trivial queries a day: not worth going to the library (or even digging out a reference book) for, but nice to know.
Those last few words are a pretty good summary of what the internet has done for me as a generally curious person; it has provided easy access to things (and people) that are nice to know.
Old Haunt
Our most recent trip to Sioux Falls did have a pleasant difference in that we were able to coordinate it with a surprise birthday party for my Dad in Centerville the next day. In fact, his wife used our visit as both the motivation to actually organize the party, which she had been contemplating but hadn’t gotten around to doing until she heard we would be in the area, and a cover story for the extra cooking, etc. for the festivities. As a result it was a complete surprise; Dad didn’t realize something was up until other people started arriving.
There was also a bit of a milestone for me. Dad wanted to go to an Italian restaurant in Vermillion, which marked the first time I had been there since I moved away nearly eight years ago. I had been in the area a few times since but had always had some excuse not to visit (no time, out of the way). The truth is I had avoided returning because it had hurt so much to leave. If I had to do it over I would still be there, even though the odds of meeting my wife (who does know how I feel) would have been long. But we didn’t do enough to reopen any wounds; just a quick drive past my old house and Public TV to show my wife the locations.
The town hasn’t changed very much. The only big additions since I left are Wal-Mart and a new Holiday Inn Express. The other changes are basically more of what was already there: the trailer court where I lived is larger, there are more storage units, etc. The restaurant – which I had only patronized once when I lived there - had moved from where I remembered it, but was a good place to eat. Overall, it was still the town I remembered. Someday I may actually pay it a proper visit. I think I can handle it now.
The drive back home had an interesting feel to it (although happily nothing like the drive down, the first hour of which was on a snow-packed highway at 35 mph). There was standing water filling ditches, creeks, rivers, etc. almost everywhere, with more snow ready to melt, giving the impression that we were getting out just ahead of trouble. In fact, many of those areas have since flooded. It will be interesting to see the conditions in three weeks when we go back to see yet another doctor.
There was also a bit of a milestone for me. Dad wanted to go to an Italian restaurant in Vermillion, which marked the first time I had been there since I moved away nearly eight years ago. I had been in the area a few times since but had always had some excuse not to visit (no time, out of the way). The truth is I had avoided returning because it had hurt so much to leave. If I had to do it over I would still be there, even though the odds of meeting my wife (who does know how I feel) would have been long. But we didn’t do enough to reopen any wounds; just a quick drive past my old house and Public TV to show my wife the locations.
The town hasn’t changed very much. The only big additions since I left are Wal-Mart and a new Holiday Inn Express. The other changes are basically more of what was already there: the trailer court where I lived is larger, there are more storage units, etc. The restaurant – which I had only patronized once when I lived there - had moved from where I remembered it, but was a good place to eat. Overall, it was still the town I remembered. Someday I may actually pay it a proper visit. I think I can handle it now.
The drive back home had an interesting feel to it (although happily nothing like the drive down, the first hour of which was on a snow-packed highway at 35 mph). There was standing water filling ditches, creeks, rivers, etc. almost everywhere, with more snow ready to melt, giving the impression that we were getting out just ahead of trouble. In fact, many of those areas have since flooded. It will be interesting to see the conditions in three weeks when we go back to see yet another doctor.
Primary Care
Another month, another trip to Sioux Falls for medical reasons, with two more already scheduled over the next few months. At least my wife’s condition finally seems to have motivated the various doctors to do some proper diagnostics, as opposed to tossing pills at the problem and hoping for the best. My wife also seems to have found a competent general practitioner here that she trusts, which has been some time coming and which I believe is directly related to the sudden activity, but that’s a topic for later.
On second thought…..why later?
For all the expensive specialists and technology that make U.S. medicine distinctive from (if not necessarily better than) most of the rest of the world, basic communication is what gets things moving. Finding a primary doctor who can not only understand a patient but provide a plan of action and if necessary get the right people who can provide answers (or at least some hope of finding answers) involved and motivated is the key to navigating the great medical maze and actually benefiting from that vaunted technology. (It only goes so far, however. My wife was told she couldn’t get in to see one specialist until June. When the other doctors attempted to intervene, they were told to take it or leave it.)
Unfortunately making such a connection tends to be similar to finding romance – largely a matter of happenstance, of stumbling around until you find the right person. Perhaps there’s a market for a medical equivalent of eHarmony, where doctors and patients can fill out questionnaires and search compatibility databases to determine if they should do business together. I can imagine lots of problems making it work, but if it did it could save time, money and aggravation.
Even once established, this relationship has the added complication of being easily broken by one or the other moving on, especially from areas like here; my wife has had a couple of GPs go to greener pastures in the short time I’ve known her. That and the shortage of new doctors going into general practice make the 40-year local doctor, like the 40-year marriage, increasingly rare, which would mean lots of repeat customers for that website. Unfortunately, I think a good number of those customers would be just as frustrated with their options as they are now. I just hope my wife can hang onto this one for a while.
On second thought…..why later?
For all the expensive specialists and technology that make U.S. medicine distinctive from (if not necessarily better than) most of the rest of the world, basic communication is what gets things moving. Finding a primary doctor who can not only understand a patient but provide a plan of action and if necessary get the right people who can provide answers (or at least some hope of finding answers) involved and motivated is the key to navigating the great medical maze and actually benefiting from that vaunted technology. (It only goes so far, however. My wife was told she couldn’t get in to see one specialist until June. When the other doctors attempted to intervene, they were told to take it or leave it.)
Unfortunately making such a connection tends to be similar to finding romance – largely a matter of happenstance, of stumbling around until you find the right person. Perhaps there’s a market for a medical equivalent of eHarmony, where doctors and patients can fill out questionnaires and search compatibility databases to determine if they should do business together. I can imagine lots of problems making it work, but if it did it could save time, money and aggravation.
Even once established, this relationship has the added complication of being easily broken by one or the other moving on, especially from areas like here; my wife has had a couple of GPs go to greener pastures in the short time I’ve known her. That and the shortage of new doctors going into general practice make the 40-year local doctor, like the 40-year marriage, increasingly rare, which would mean lots of repeat customers for that website. Unfortunately, I think a good number of those customers would be just as frustrated with their options as they are now. I just hope my wife can hang onto this one for a while.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Suck It Up for the Kid
Well, at least my timing is pretty good. I managed to pay an all-too-infrequent visit to Brian, Amy and company at Incertus just in time to to read a post that revs me up.
Here's the story: Jewish woman and Catholic man get married, he converts. They have a kid, and get divorced. Judge gives her primary custody and they agree to raise the child Jewish. Husband decides to renege on the deal later and has her baptized. Wife gets a restraining order. Husband takes the kid to church and gets news cameras to come along, loudly proclaiming that his rights to worship as he chooses have been violated. Ex-wife's lawyers demand he be held in contempt and spend the next six months in jail over this outrage.
Brian covers the various religious angles, so I won't get into that too much. Besides, I tend to agree with the notion expressed elsewhere in the post that this isn't really about religion (although I imagine many people tried to talk them out of it on that basis,and others told them a Jewish/Catholic marriage would be a tough slog), but about taking shots at the ex by whatever means available, of which religion is always prime, and in this case I believe is especially effective against the mother. The idea of the child as a possession (I do what I wish with my kid!) is also apparent here.
It's hard to feel optimistic about this situation. Either the parents are going to have to back off and compromise somehow - and we all know how often that works when religion is injected into a conflict - or this could end with someone doing hard time under tragic circumstances, or with one parent (so far the father is the likely candidate) banished from the child's life.
I do wonder about the "duress" mentioned by the father, but I suspect two types. The duress for conversion was classically romantic/hormonal; the besotted boy agrees to anything to get the girl. This is an oldie but doesn't necessarily corroborate his alleged devotion to his faith. The other is probably the type of pressure inherent in any negotiation, especially under such emotional circumstances. I don't see a court buying either of these. Religious conversions, particularly to Judaism, aren't done casually, and divorce agreements like this one are hammered out painfully and deliberately,with plenty of opportunity for contemplation. Any “duress” was self-inflicted.
On a more general level, it is another reminder that children affect a divorce just as profoundly as they do a marriage. Staying together "for the sake of the children" has long been justifiably derided, but that's effectively what must be done by divorced parents who truly care about their children; they have to get along (in this case for a very long time; the child is 3yo). The divorce ends the marriage contract, but not the parental contract. That has to be handled separately.
Here's the story: Jewish woman and Catholic man get married, he converts. They have a kid, and get divorced. Judge gives her primary custody and they agree to raise the child Jewish. Husband decides to renege on the deal later and has her baptized. Wife gets a restraining order. Husband takes the kid to church and gets news cameras to come along, loudly proclaiming that his rights to worship as he chooses have been violated. Ex-wife's lawyers demand he be held in contempt and spend the next six months in jail over this outrage.
Brian covers the various religious angles, so I won't get into that too much. Besides, I tend to agree with the notion expressed elsewhere in the post that this isn't really about religion (although I imagine many people tried to talk them out of it on that basis,and others told them a Jewish/Catholic marriage would be a tough slog), but about taking shots at the ex by whatever means available, of which religion is always prime, and in this case I believe is especially effective against the mother. The idea of the child as a possession (I do what I wish with my kid!) is also apparent here.
It's hard to feel optimistic about this situation. Either the parents are going to have to back off and compromise somehow - and we all know how often that works when religion is injected into a conflict - or this could end with someone doing hard time under tragic circumstances, or with one parent (so far the father is the likely candidate) banished from the child's life.
I do wonder about the "duress" mentioned by the father, but I suspect two types. The duress for conversion was classically romantic/hormonal; the besotted boy agrees to anything to get the girl. This is an oldie but doesn't necessarily corroborate his alleged devotion to his faith. The other is probably the type of pressure inherent in any negotiation, especially under such emotional circumstances. I don't see a court buying either of these. Religious conversions, particularly to Judaism, aren't done casually, and divorce agreements like this one are hammered out painfully and deliberately,with plenty of opportunity for contemplation. Any “duress” was self-inflicted.
On a more general level, it is another reminder that children affect a divorce just as profoundly as they do a marriage. Staying together "for the sake of the children" has long been justifiably derided, but that's effectively what must be done by divorced parents who truly care about their children; they have to get along (in this case for a very long time; the child is 3yo). The divorce ends the marriage contract, but not the parental contract. That has to be handled separately.
Electronic Innoculation
March…..not quite the light at the end of tunnel, but perhaps a reflective signpost glowing from the light. The snowdrifts are showing dirt, and temperatures are approaching normal, at least here. We’ll probably get pasted at least once more, but winter is finally showing signs of retreat.
I recently engaged in a titanic struggle with a nasty Trojan virus my daughter’s laptop picked up somewhere. (Hmmm....in another context the Trojan is the virus protection. English is a funny language.) I haven’t had much experience with them, so this was interesting. It hijacked the Microsoft security center, which began spewing forth all sorts of nonsense and demanding I subscribe to whatever it was to get rid of it. It also made all the desktop icons disappear and pretty much brought all functions to a halt, including the on-board antivirus software.
I consulted the man who originally set the computer up for my daughter, and he recommended I try Trend Micro’s Housecall, which is free and could be run from the internet so it could work around the virus. I knew I was on the right track when the computer kept trying to block access to the website. After considerable clicking, back-paging and re-clicking I was finally able to get the software running. I don’t recall the exact time it took to scan, detect and fix the trouble, but it wasn’t long, and the computer seems to be functioning fine now.
I was so impressed ran it on my old desktop just to see what would happen. It took quite a bit longer, which wasn’t too surprising given the relatively limited processor and memory of the old beast, and didn’t find anything toxic. Overall, I heartily recommend it, at least as part of the arsenal.
I recently engaged in a titanic struggle with a nasty Trojan virus my daughter’s laptop picked up somewhere. (Hmmm....in another context the Trojan is the virus protection. English is a funny language.) I haven’t had much experience with them, so this was interesting. It hijacked the Microsoft security center, which began spewing forth all sorts of nonsense and demanding I subscribe to whatever it was to get rid of it. It also made all the desktop icons disappear and pretty much brought all functions to a halt, including the on-board antivirus software.
I consulted the man who originally set the computer up for my daughter, and he recommended I try Trend Micro’s Housecall, which is free and could be run from the internet so it could work around the virus. I knew I was on the right track when the computer kept trying to block access to the website. After considerable clicking, back-paging and re-clicking I was finally able to get the software running. I don’t recall the exact time it took to scan, detect and fix the trouble, but it wasn’t long, and the computer seems to be functioning fine now.
I was so impressed ran it on my old desktop just to see what would happen. It took quite a bit longer, which wasn’t too surprising given the relatively limited processor and memory of the old beast, and didn’t find anything toxic. Overall, I heartily recommend it, at least as part of the arsenal.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Fantasy,Reality and Their Gradations
It finally came to me. The first time we saw the latest Nutrisystem ad, my wife and I both thought the woman (not Marie Osmond, the other one) looked, well, unusual somehow. The other day I realized….the long torso…..the hard face…..the relatively narrow hips…..she looks like she used to be a man. More evidence that of all the advantages of losing excess weight – and she seems to have derived many benefits – appearance is the most uncertain. Perhaps she looks better in person.
I happened upon G4 TV’s coverage of the Adult Entertainment Expo, at least what they could show; unsurprisingly the image-blurring was extensive. I haven’t contributed to that industry’s profit margin since before most of its current stars were born, but if I were already in Las Vegas at the right time the convention looks like it might be fun to attend just to see what it’s like. I could see that advances in plastic surgery have enabled adult film makers to have the same advantage Playboy has always had with pictures, just with the women themselves touched up instead of the images. I could tell who the veterans of the business were by the extent and obviousness of the alterations. I have often heard that pornography demeans women by presenting a distorted view of them to men. I tend to think that anyone who would confuse those productions with reality is the type who has to learn just about everything the hard way, sad as that may be for all involved.
That train of thought brings to mind an accelerating trend in movie making in general, the mingling of the technologies of representing fantasy and reality. For the first few decades of film making the struggle was for realism, to accurately replicate actual people/places/things and to make imaginary people/places/things seem real. Naturally reality was easier to handle, so fantasy tended to resemble it; aliens and monsters and their worlds were modeled around what was actually available. Even as the special effects got better they were still largely used as improved versions of what had always been done, and dropped into the film as a largely separate entity.
Now the technology developed to make fantasy seem real is being used to make reality seem fantastic. The upcoming Alice in Wonderland movie is a prime example. Actual people are not just voicing characters but providing their image, and they are recognizable, but they are being digitally altered into fantastic shapes and are integrated into the semi-animated form of the film. It makes me wonder what other movies will be remade this way, or what other stories will be done. I can imagine Disney trying this with some of their animated catalog, and someone redoing some of the old sci-fi flicks. It also could bring up conflicts between acting and animation. At what point does a performance like that go from contention for an award for Best Actor to Best Special Effects?
I happened upon G4 TV’s coverage of the Adult Entertainment Expo, at least what they could show; unsurprisingly the image-blurring was extensive. I haven’t contributed to that industry’s profit margin since before most of its current stars were born, but if I were already in Las Vegas at the right time the convention looks like it might be fun to attend just to see what it’s like. I could see that advances in plastic surgery have enabled adult film makers to have the same advantage Playboy has always had with pictures, just with the women themselves touched up instead of the images. I could tell who the veterans of the business were by the extent and obviousness of the alterations. I have often heard that pornography demeans women by presenting a distorted view of them to men. I tend to think that anyone who would confuse those productions with reality is the type who has to learn just about everything the hard way, sad as that may be for all involved.
That train of thought brings to mind an accelerating trend in movie making in general, the mingling of the technologies of representing fantasy and reality. For the first few decades of film making the struggle was for realism, to accurately replicate actual people/places/things and to make imaginary people/places/things seem real. Naturally reality was easier to handle, so fantasy tended to resemble it; aliens and monsters and their worlds were modeled around what was actually available. Even as the special effects got better they were still largely used as improved versions of what had always been done, and dropped into the film as a largely separate entity.
Now the technology developed to make fantasy seem real is being used to make reality seem fantastic. The upcoming Alice in Wonderland movie is a prime example. Actual people are not just voicing characters but providing their image, and they are recognizable, but they are being digitally altered into fantastic shapes and are integrated into the semi-animated form of the film. It makes me wonder what other movies will be remade this way, or what other stories will be done. I can imagine Disney trying this with some of their animated catalog, and someone redoing some of the old sci-fi flicks. It also could bring up conflicts between acting and animation. At what point does a performance like that go from contention for an award for Best Actor to Best Special Effects?
Friday, February 5, 2010
Whither Conan?
Thoughts while putting off yet another bout of snow shoveling.......
I see the markets are tanking again. Frankly, I didn't quite understand why there had been any optimism. It seems as though the markets had been acting largely on theory, i.e. "things are bound to get better, so now is the time to get in on the ground floor". Then after they get pounded by enough bad news they finally cave in to reality, at least for a little while. I think the fact that traders make money no matter which way things go factors in as well.
Some headlines just draw you in.
"Ill Lt. Gov. nominee denies putting knife to girlfriend's throat, admits past steroid use."
A little checking just added to it.
Six months before the October 2005 incident, the woman had been arrested after a police investigation of a Glenview massage parlor. She later pleaded guilty to a charge of prostitution.
Is it really that hard to find a relatively clean politician in Illinois?
Now that the NBC talk show fiasco has been more or less settled, I've been wondering what Conan's next move should be. I see rumors of an NBC TV series pilot and a talk show on Fox. I think NBC should put him in charge of Saturday Night Live (where he once worked). Let him do the opening monologue and perhaps the Weekend Update segment, and participate in sketches if desirable. They could still have guest stars as they do now, but Conan would provide a steady center around which the show could swirl. It could be a different take on the old variety shows.
I see the markets are tanking again. Frankly, I didn't quite understand why there had been any optimism. It seems as though the markets had been acting largely on theory, i.e. "things are bound to get better, so now is the time to get in on the ground floor". Then after they get pounded by enough bad news they finally cave in to reality, at least for a little while. I think the fact that traders make money no matter which way things go factors in as well.
Some headlines just draw you in.
"Ill Lt. Gov. nominee denies putting knife to girlfriend's throat, admits past steroid use."
A little checking just added to it.
Six months before the October 2005 incident, the woman had been arrested after a police investigation of a Glenview massage parlor. She later pleaded guilty to a charge of prostitution.
Is it really that hard to find a relatively clean politician in Illinois?
Now that the NBC talk show fiasco has been more or less settled, I've been wondering what Conan's next move should be. I see rumors of an NBC TV series pilot and a talk show on Fox. I think NBC should put him in charge of Saturday Night Live (where he once worked). Let him do the opening monologue and perhaps the Weekend Update segment, and participate in sketches if desirable. They could still have guest stars as they do now, but Conan would provide a steady center around which the show could swirl. It could be a different take on the old variety shows.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Another Day Older
Sunrise, sunset, repeat…. Grandbaby’s new habit of saying “mom” to get someone’s attention – in this case my daughter - started a conversation that led to the realization that my daughter is now the same age my mother was during her pregnancy with me (almost exactly: their birthdays are both in early December). My daughter is not pregnant, so there is no larger coincidence here, just another reason for the back to ache a little more.
On a recent episode of No Reservations in Panama, Anthony Bourdain was in the process of arranging a segment for the show when he and his crew were whisked to a remote site by the government to witness the destruction of part of what an official said was 16 tons of cocaine seized in a 42-day operation. It could just be that I’ve become jaded by all the stories I’ve heard over the years trumpeting drug seizures while the supply remains largely unaffected. But that number, combined with the contrast between the official’s enthusiasm and Bourdain’s joke that this won’t be the first time he has been involved in cooking cocaine, made me think of the subject of the Tennessee Ernie Ford song 16 tons, who talks about his toughness and ability at his job while noting that it’s not getting him anywhere.
I doubt that official feels that way. It would be tough to stay in that job if he did, and the people I know in that line of work don't. I imagine he can take the perspective that his efforts could drive the traffickers to safer havens and improve conditions in his nation. He could watch Bourdain’s program about Columbia, which showed how conditions have gotten vastly better than in the bad old days, for inspiration. But I wouldn’t blame him if he occasionally thought he'd be better off shoveling coal.
On a recent episode of No Reservations in Panama, Anthony Bourdain was in the process of arranging a segment for the show when he and his crew were whisked to a remote site by the government to witness the destruction of part of what an official said was 16 tons of cocaine seized in a 42-day operation. It could just be that I’ve become jaded by all the stories I’ve heard over the years trumpeting drug seizures while the supply remains largely unaffected. But that number, combined with the contrast between the official’s enthusiasm and Bourdain’s joke that this won’t be the first time he has been involved in cooking cocaine, made me think of the subject of the Tennessee Ernie Ford song 16 tons, who talks about his toughness and ability at his job while noting that it’s not getting him anywhere.
I doubt that official feels that way. It would be tough to stay in that job if he did, and the people I know in that line of work don't. I imagine he can take the perspective that his efforts could drive the traffickers to safer havens and improve conditions in his nation. He could watch Bourdain’s program about Columbia, which showed how conditions have gotten vastly better than in the bad old days, for inspiration. But I wouldn’t blame him if he occasionally thought he'd be better off shoveling coal.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Put Some Clothes On
Among the collection of Peter Egan articles I recently received was one in which he said that while he enjoys many vehicle-related pastimes, he has never taken to snowmobiling for the simple reason that he doesn’t like being out in the cold for any length of time. I stand firmly with him in support of this. I cannot think of a cold-weather outdoor activity of any interest to me. Further, of the various activities in which I have been able to participate in both warm and cold weather, I have yet to find one I prefer cold.
Lately it hasn’t been the cold itself that has attracted my attention, but how people deal with it. Under-dressing seems to be standard for many folks. I regularly see people walking (or more usually running) from place to place wearing clothing apparently selected in the hope that they will get to a source of warmth before they lose skin or are unable to move. I know of at least two recent incidents involving stranded motorists on the highway who were wearing shorts when they were rescued.
Slight allowance can be made for travelers from warmer climates, but it’s not like our winters are a secret; a few minutes watching the Weather Channel before coming here would give them the gist. As for locals, I think there’s a fair amount of the old we’re-used-it-around-here mentality in play. No one wants to admit the cold bothers them, even as they sprint through it then do calisthenics to restore feeling in their extremities.
This has always mystified me, given the ready availability of the solution. Are these people really so pressed for time that they just can’t spare 30 seconds to put on a coat? I have occasionally been teased for my winter garb, but I have never understood why I should sacrifice comfort for the privilege of courting frostbite. Ebenezer Scrooge may not have much fun pre-conversion, but his appreciation of garments always struck me as quite sensible.
Lately it hasn’t been the cold itself that has attracted my attention, but how people deal with it. Under-dressing seems to be standard for many folks. I regularly see people walking (or more usually running) from place to place wearing clothing apparently selected in the hope that they will get to a source of warmth before they lose skin or are unable to move. I know of at least two recent incidents involving stranded motorists on the highway who were wearing shorts when they were rescued.
Slight allowance can be made for travelers from warmer climates, but it’s not like our winters are a secret; a few minutes watching the Weather Channel before coming here would give them the gist. As for locals, I think there’s a fair amount of the old we’re-used-it-around-here mentality in play. No one wants to admit the cold bothers them, even as they sprint through it then do calisthenics to restore feeling in their extremities.
This has always mystified me, given the ready availability of the solution. Are these people really so pressed for time that they just can’t spare 30 seconds to put on a coat? I have occasionally been teased for my winter garb, but I have never understood why I should sacrifice comfort for the privilege of courting frostbite. Ebenezer Scrooge may not have much fun pre-conversion, but his appreciation of garments always struck me as quite sensible.
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