I can be hard to get a hold of.
Though you probably aren’t thinking about it, there are actually multiple ways to interpret that sentence. The most common interpretation probably has to do with a tendency -- as in “I am sometimes hard to get a hold of.” There are also other ways to use the word “can” -- indicating an ability, such as “I can play the piano” or “I can recite quotations from Shakespeare.” Finally, there is “I can do it if I want to do it, and you will not be able to stop me,” such as “I can stay up late and watch television.”
I find it profound that in this particular case, all three interpretations apply. I have a tendency to be difficult to get a hold of, AND I have an ability to be difficult to get a hold of, AND I want to be difficult to get a hold of, and you will not be able to stop me.
In this “connected” era, where people have not only cell phones but “smart phones” and do all manner of not only e-mailing but “instant messaging” (perhaps out of vogue now) and “texting”, I am increasingly out of step with those around me, and more than one person has actually become angry about how difficult it is to reach me. Notably, the people who have been angriest have been people who I barely consider acquaintances -- certainly not friends. I must admit, though, that many friends and family have also offered at least some criticism about the fact that they are unable to contact me at the moment they desire to contact me.
People seem not to understand that the issue is at least as important to ME as it is to THEM. I feel very strongly that NO ONE “deserves” or “has a right to” instant access to ANYONE. In fact, I would argue that this is one of the few things that separates us from prisoners. Prisoners often have at least SOME freedom of movement, and perhaps the ability to decide whether or not to eat and drink, and precisely what to eat and drink, and how to occupy their time -- but if their captor WANTS to have access to them, their captor HAS access to them. The prisoner does NOT get to decide who reaches them, or when.
This is one of those areas in which people will argue about motivation -- “WHY shouldn’t people be able to instantly reach you?” or “WHY is it important to you?” -- but I will respond that motivation is irrelevant. It is my desire, and my right. People will also come up with all sorts of “reasons” why they NEED instant access -- mostly having to do with the possibility of “emergencies”, but also for a variety of more individual needs. I am hard-pressed to think of any “emergency” situations in which quickly reaching me will have an impact on the outcome of the situation, though I am willing to acknowledge that the possibility exists. In those theoretical cases, I am willing to suffer the consequences of being hard to reach. On a practical level, the fact is that I am not UNIVERSALLY difficult to reach -- there are one or two or three people who I allow the ability to contact me most of the time. That is MY choice. The “problem” (not for ME) is that MOST people will have difficulty quickly contacting me.
In the back of my mind, there is always the fear that as the future unfolds, everyone will have instant access to everyone. I would not want to live in such a world.
Sometimes, the truth is straightforward.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Personal trust
Once, while I was in High School, I attended an overnight camp-out with our church youth group. Specifically, we spent the night in a lodge at a nearby camp, with a lake, a beach, and trails through the surrounding woods. I was only minimally active in the church youth group, and only casually acquainted with the other members. One of the evening's activities involved separating into pairs, and then taking turns being blindfolded while your partner led you around the camp. Later, we gathered to discuss the experience. Most of the people described being fearful and apprehensive during the time that they were blindfolded. I was the only one to express a sense of relaxation and peace. The period of time that I was blindfolded was the ONLY time during the evening that I had no worries at all about bumping into things or tripping, and had no decisions to make about where to go or what to do. My partner was carrying all those concerns for me. While my PARTNER was blindfolded, now THAT was a different story. THEN, I had to worry constantly about all the misfortunes that might befall my partner if I was careless or inattentive.
As children, my friends and I would often shout out urgent commands to each other, such as "Duck!" or "Look out!" or even "Hide!". Sometimes the commands might be more specific, like "Kick your right foot!" or "Pedal your bicycle faster!" In the swimming pool, someone might tell you, "Go underwater!" I cannot recall a single instance in which there was not a very real reason, or at least a perceived reason, for such a command. They were NEVER pranks. Obviously, if you were told to "Duck!" you were in danger of being hit in the head with something. If you were advised to submerge in the swimming pool, there was probably some sort of stinging/biting insect, either already ON you, or about to land on you. In every case, failure to heed the command carried some sort of imminent risk, and the response "Why?" was always innappropriate and risky.
I do not know whether my childhood experience might have been unique. I doubt it. I do not know whether children growing up in my neighborhood today share the same sort of interactions. I DO know that if I shout "Duck!" today, at even my closest friends and family members, it is highly unlikely that any of them will respond, other than to ask, "Why?" Examined objectively and logically, this is absurd. IF someone you trust feels the need to shout "Duck!" at you, then clearly there is no time for you to ask, "Why?" and for the person to respond, "Because there is a baseball/brick/satellite about to hit you on the back of the head!"
So far, everything I have stated is just undebateable observed phenomena. I have yet to state any opinion. My OPINION is that the change is unfortunate; that we would all be better off if grownups could still yell, "Duck!" and have people "duck" without first asking "Why?"
Assuming that I am correct in my observations, and that we are unlikely to immediately "duck" when a trusted friend or family members tells us to, the question is, appropriately, WHY? This brings up an entire range of other questions. Is the change simply part of the growth process -- the change from childhood to adulthood? Or has there been a fundamental change in our society? Perhaps people are simply less trusting today. Perhaps we, and especially our children, are simply less active. In my childhood, most of our activities involved actually moving around. We had no video games or even videos, and most activities that involved sitting in one spot for more than a few minutes were considered boring. Today, children are less likely to be in a situation in which they are about to be hit by a baseball, or stung by a bee. Hit by a video baseball or stung by a video bee really does not carry the same urgency as something that will truly raise a welt.
Perhaps it all relates to issues of independence and control, and our reluctance to subjugate our own wills to that of anyone else. In my childhood, we were more likely to do things simply because we were told to do them. We did not ask for reasons -- perhaps AFTER we did what we were told, but certainly not before.
Or perhaps the change comes from the other direction. Perhaps those who GIVE the urgent commands are less sincere, and more likely to be pulling some sort of prank on us, or making a joke, and we are wisely adapting to this new reality. If so, this is very sad, and raises a "chicken or egg" question. If there is a significant chance that, by ducking, we place ourselves at more risk than by not ducking, then it is only logical NOT to duck -- but it is also quite tragic, and means that we are all collectively contributing to this lack of trust -- similar to the idea that by insisting that doors be locked, we are condoning theft of items from unlocked vehicles and homes.
As I continue my speculation, I fear that there are larger issues involved. IF we lack even this modicum of trust in our most trusted associates -- if we must always ask "Why?" even of them, then what hope is there for situations that require cooperation with those for whom we hold less trust, or even fear. We do not trust politicians from "the other side" and we do not even trust the politicians that we ourselves vote for. We know that our politicians must work together to accomplish anything, yet we endorse the fact that politicians from opposing sides refuse to trust each other.
By advocating and embracing the idea that we must maintain our own personal control and independence, and offer unquestioning trust to no one, we isolate ourselves and weaken our society. You will NEVER have all the information or skills to be totally self-sufficient. To a certain extent, you will always be stumbling along in the dark, with unseen others offering assistance. We will all be better off if you can find it in yourself to take that assistance, at least occasionally.
As children, my friends and I would often shout out urgent commands to each other, such as "Duck!" or "Look out!" or even "Hide!". Sometimes the commands might be more specific, like "Kick your right foot!" or "Pedal your bicycle faster!" In the swimming pool, someone might tell you, "Go underwater!" I cannot recall a single instance in which there was not a very real reason, or at least a perceived reason, for such a command. They were NEVER pranks. Obviously, if you were told to "Duck!" you were in danger of being hit in the head with something. If you were advised to submerge in the swimming pool, there was probably some sort of stinging/biting insect, either already ON you, or about to land on you. In every case, failure to heed the command carried some sort of imminent risk, and the response "Why?" was always innappropriate and risky.
I do not know whether my childhood experience might have been unique. I doubt it. I do not know whether children growing up in my neighborhood today share the same sort of interactions. I DO know that if I shout "Duck!" today, at even my closest friends and family members, it is highly unlikely that any of them will respond, other than to ask, "Why?" Examined objectively and logically, this is absurd. IF someone you trust feels the need to shout "Duck!" at you, then clearly there is no time for you to ask, "Why?" and for the person to respond, "Because there is a baseball/brick/satellite about to hit you on the back of the head!"
So far, everything I have stated is just undebateable observed phenomena. I have yet to state any opinion. My OPINION is that the change is unfortunate; that we would all be better off if grownups could still yell, "Duck!" and have people "duck" without first asking "Why?"
Assuming that I am correct in my observations, and that we are unlikely to immediately "duck" when a trusted friend or family members tells us to, the question is, appropriately, WHY? This brings up an entire range of other questions. Is the change simply part of the growth process -- the change from childhood to adulthood? Or has there been a fundamental change in our society? Perhaps people are simply less trusting today. Perhaps we, and especially our children, are simply less active. In my childhood, most of our activities involved actually moving around. We had no video games or even videos, and most activities that involved sitting in one spot for more than a few minutes were considered boring. Today, children are less likely to be in a situation in which they are about to be hit by a baseball, or stung by a bee. Hit by a video baseball or stung by a video bee really does not carry the same urgency as something that will truly raise a welt.
Perhaps it all relates to issues of independence and control, and our reluctance to subjugate our own wills to that of anyone else. In my childhood, we were more likely to do things simply because we were told to do them. We did not ask for reasons -- perhaps AFTER we did what we were told, but certainly not before.
Or perhaps the change comes from the other direction. Perhaps those who GIVE the urgent commands are less sincere, and more likely to be pulling some sort of prank on us, or making a joke, and we are wisely adapting to this new reality. If so, this is very sad, and raises a "chicken or egg" question. If there is a significant chance that, by ducking, we place ourselves at more risk than by not ducking, then it is only logical NOT to duck -- but it is also quite tragic, and means that we are all collectively contributing to this lack of trust -- similar to the idea that by insisting that doors be locked, we are condoning theft of items from unlocked vehicles and homes.
As I continue my speculation, I fear that there are larger issues involved. IF we lack even this modicum of trust in our most trusted associates -- if we must always ask "Why?" even of them, then what hope is there for situations that require cooperation with those for whom we hold less trust, or even fear. We do not trust politicians from "the other side" and we do not even trust the politicians that we ourselves vote for. We know that our politicians must work together to accomplish anything, yet we endorse the fact that politicians from opposing sides refuse to trust each other.
By advocating and embracing the idea that we must maintain our own personal control and independence, and offer unquestioning trust to no one, we isolate ourselves and weaken our society. You will NEVER have all the information or skills to be totally self-sufficient. To a certain extent, you will always be stumbling along in the dark, with unseen others offering assistance. We will all be better off if you can find it in yourself to take that assistance, at least occasionally.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Locked Doors
I was probably in fourth or fifth grade when our class was shown a film about eskimos. (I'm pretty sure that the people in the film were referred to as "eskimos", although I realize that that term may now be considered out-of-date or even offensive. I apologize if my use of the term is inappropriate or offensive.)
One particular scene has stuck with me. A man was walking along a trail, bound for another village, looking toward the shore of a body of water, when he saw a particular piece of driftwood -- a fairly large log -- that he thought would be nice to have. He left the trail, walked to the shoreline, picked up the driftwood, brought it back to the trail, and set it beside the trail where everyone walking along the trail would probably notice it, in a position that made it obvious that SOMEONE had placed it there. The narrator stated that the man did not want to bother lugging it all the way to the next village and back, and would leave it there to pick up on his way back home. Since it would be obvious to everyone that someone had already claimed that particular piece of driftwood, no one else would take it.
Recently, while a friend of mine's front door was left unlocked, someone came into her house and took several valuable objects -- mostly electronics. Technically, they did not "break in", since my friend's daughter had left the door unlocked while she went for a walk. Still, to even SEE the objects they had to first enter my friend's house, AND it seems highly likely that they realized the valuable objects had already been "claimed" by someone. It's not as if they noticed naturally-occuring objects lying on the seashore.
People commonly leave valuable objects in their cars, visible to passers-by -- IF the passers-by happen to glance INSIDE the car. IF someone leaves a valuable object in their car, and later finds it missing, then friends, acquaintances, and even the police are likely to ask them whether or not their car door had been locked prior to the disappearance of the object. If their response is that they had left their car door unlocked, then people are likely to be critical of THEM, rather that the thief who removed the object. What did they EXPECT, leaving their door unlocked, with a valuable item visible to passers-by?
Words cannot appropriately express my feelings on this subject. An unlocked door is NOT an invitation to steal, and anyone who states that such behaviour is predictable is, in a way, encouraging it. As long as it remains clear that our valuable possessions are indeed OUR valuable possessions, then we should be able to leave them unprotected, and anyone who robs us should not only be prosecuted, but shunned by the rest of society as an evil-doer.
In fact, there is a part of me that believes NONE of us should EVER lock our doors, and that by locking doors at all we are promoting the idea that robbery is acceptable behaviour. Anytime I know that something is yours and not mine, then it is wrong for me to take possession of it, even if it is POSSIBLE for me to take possession of it.
(At this moment in the discussion, some readers might begin to think in less concrete terms. What if someone takes credit for something YOU actually accomplished, or somehow "takes" your job, or your significant other? The truth is complicated, and these are questions for another discussion, and totally beyond what I am writing about here. I am writing only about actual physical objects that might be carried off or destroyed by someone else gaining access to them.)
There is also the issue of locking doors of public buildings for security. I would prefer that church doors always remain unlocked,and SOME still do! I also take issue with the recent increases in school security. As I was growing up, school doors always remained unlocked during the school day, and were actually propped OPEN during warm weather. Now we lock our school doors, and require visitors to "check in" or otherwise obtain some sort of permission for being there. While I understand that our need for "safety" and "security" necessitated these changes, I cannot escape the belief that by resorting to these measures -- by locking the doors -- we are condoning and possibly even encouraging the negative behavior we are attempting the thwart.
I must confess that I DO lock my doors, and I avoid leaving valuable items visible in my car, even with the doors locked, since I have little faith in passers-by, and I do not wish to lose my possessions. Still, on a philosophical level, I believe our world would be better if we all left our doors unlocked and united against anyone who would even CONSIDER removing that which did not belong to them, or anyone who would menace our schools, or violate the sanctity of our houses of worship.
In practical terms, our modern world offers the related issue of things that seem to be "lost". If I am walking through a parking lot, and see a penny on the ground, I am aware that the penny did not appear there naturally -- at some point, someone else possessed the penny. At the same time, it is unlikely that they deliberately left the penny in that spot, intending to return for it. I will probably pick the penny up and assume possession of it, and I will not feel guilty or morally ambiguous.
To a certain extent, the question of "lost" items revolves around their value. Years ago, I found a bag containing an expensive camera, along with several other items, lying in the middle of a busy street. I knew that the bag did not belong to me. I doubted that anyone had placed it there deliberately. I suspected that if I left it there, eventually all of the contents of the bag would be destroyed by passing cars. I was faced with various options. Keeping the items for myself seemed wrong. I COULD have taken the bag, and placed an ad in the "lost and found" section of our local newspaper. That might have been best. Instead, I turned the bag in at our local police station, explaining where I had found it. I hope perhaps it was eventually reunited with its proper owner.
The question of lost items can be difficult and complicated. IF the camera was never reunited with its proper owner, then I suppose I had more claim to it that anyone else did. If it was eventually claimed by one of the police officers, or auctioned off to earn money for the city, then this, too, seems unjust. Then again, if I had taken out a "lost and found" ad, then ANYONE could have contacted me, claiming that the camera was theirs, and I might not have been able to determine whether they were telling the truth. Truth is complicated.
Still, someone who enters my home or my vehicle, whether or not the doors are locked, cannot reasonably and sanely claim that they thought MY camera was "lost" and therefore available for the taking -- even if my camera was left out on the table on my front porch. In these cases, theft remains theft, and it really should not make any difference to ANYONE whether the doors were locked or unlocked. This is one of those cases in which the truth is NOT complicated.
This is also one of those cases in which I can clearly identify a problem, but cannot identify a solution. We SHOULD not steal from each other, and we SHOULD not need to lock our doors, but I do not know how to change the world to accomplish this.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Talking Politics
I have profoundly mixed feelings about talking or writing about politics.
On the one hand, politics can be an extremely important issue, strongly influencing our lives and our "pursuit of happiness". On the other hand, politics has become SO polarized, and so mired in slogans and over-simplifications, that expressing disagreement with someone's political views can cause them to automatically discount everything else you have to say, and in fact change your personal relationship with them forever.
I have stated elsewhere in this blog that there is one and ONLY one central political "issue" -- the question of the proper role of government in our lives. I have also stated that this question rarely gets asked, because people tend to believe that the answer is obvious.
A recurring theme of this blog is the idea that communication can help us resolve our differences and solve our problems. Unfortunately, what passes for political "discussion" these days is often mostly both sides reciting well-rehearsed distortions and over-simplifications of each others' positions, while refusing to agree on ANYTHING and insisting that the truth is far from complicated.
In fact, we, as a nation, now accept an alternative view of reality -- the view put forth by politicians. If we want to know whether a certain asteroid will strike the earth, we listen not to astronomers and astrophysicists, but to Congressmen and Senators. If we want to know the best way to win a war, we listen not to soldiers and generals, but to our politicians. And if we want to analyze our economy, and the problems and solutions facing our economy, we listen not to economists and those who have spent a lifetime studying economics, but instead to our political leaders.
Personally, I find this all to be quite exasperating. I freely admit that I do not have the answers, but I also recognize when OTHER people do not have the answers. Sadly, we seem to be living in an age of increased personal certainty, when people are more and more convinced that THEY are RIGHT. (Hmmm ... sounds like a topic for a future blog-post.)
My frustration with political discussion leads me to want to talk about it and write about it ... but then I fear that I will end up shutting down communication, rather than assisting or enabling it. And if I shut down communication, then I am part of the problem rather than part of the solution.
The problem is amplified somewhat by my strong belief that the truth tends to be complicated. Many of the most difficult issues facing us today are deeply complicated, and I will oppose anyone who argues that the answers are clear-cut, even if I personally agree with their "side" of the issue. That's a complicated idea. To re-state, even if I AGREE with your position on gun control, or abortion, or Israel, or same-sex marriage, I will DISAGREE with you if you claim that the issue is not complicated.
The result of all this is that I end up with strong feelings about politics, and I enjoy actually communicating about politics (though I hate "spin" and distortion and over-simplification), and I end up wanting to WRITE about politics ... but then I end up being reluctant to post political writings in a blog.
This is compounded by the fact that I am painfully aware that words are inherently unclear, and anything ANYONE writes can probably be twisted to the point that it bears no resemblance to their true belief -- so if you WANT to twist my words, and claim that I believe something I do NOT believe, you will probably be successful. But that is always the case with words, and not limited to politics.
So, as America hurtles once more toward a possibly world-changing election, I once again resolve to try to be bolder about writing about politics. I suppose we should ALL try harder to actually COMMUNICATE about politics -- that is, actually trying to UNDERSTAND each other rather than demonize each other, and actually trying to figure stuff out rather than simply insisting that WE are RIGHT.
Truth is complicated.
On the one hand, politics can be an extremely important issue, strongly influencing our lives and our "pursuit of happiness". On the other hand, politics has become SO polarized, and so mired in slogans and over-simplifications, that expressing disagreement with someone's political views can cause them to automatically discount everything else you have to say, and in fact change your personal relationship with them forever.
I have stated elsewhere in this blog that there is one and ONLY one central political "issue" -- the question of the proper role of government in our lives. I have also stated that this question rarely gets asked, because people tend to believe that the answer is obvious.
A recurring theme of this blog is the idea that communication can help us resolve our differences and solve our problems. Unfortunately, what passes for political "discussion" these days is often mostly both sides reciting well-rehearsed distortions and over-simplifications of each others' positions, while refusing to agree on ANYTHING and insisting that the truth is far from complicated.
In fact, we, as a nation, now accept an alternative view of reality -- the view put forth by politicians. If we want to know whether a certain asteroid will strike the earth, we listen not to astronomers and astrophysicists, but to Congressmen and Senators. If we want to know the best way to win a war, we listen not to soldiers and generals, but to our politicians. And if we want to analyze our economy, and the problems and solutions facing our economy, we listen not to economists and those who have spent a lifetime studying economics, but instead to our political leaders.
Personally, I find this all to be quite exasperating. I freely admit that I do not have the answers, but I also recognize when OTHER people do not have the answers. Sadly, we seem to be living in an age of increased personal certainty, when people are more and more convinced that THEY are RIGHT. (Hmmm ... sounds like a topic for a future blog-post.)
My frustration with political discussion leads me to want to talk about it and write about it ... but then I fear that I will end up shutting down communication, rather than assisting or enabling it. And if I shut down communication, then I am part of the problem rather than part of the solution.
The problem is amplified somewhat by my strong belief that the truth tends to be complicated. Many of the most difficult issues facing us today are deeply complicated, and I will oppose anyone who argues that the answers are clear-cut, even if I personally agree with their "side" of the issue. That's a complicated idea. To re-state, even if I AGREE with your position on gun control, or abortion, or Israel, or same-sex marriage, I will DISAGREE with you if you claim that the issue is not complicated.
The result of all this is that I end up with strong feelings about politics, and I enjoy actually communicating about politics (though I hate "spin" and distortion and over-simplification), and I end up wanting to WRITE about politics ... but then I end up being reluctant to post political writings in a blog.
This is compounded by the fact that I am painfully aware that words are inherently unclear, and anything ANYONE writes can probably be twisted to the point that it bears no resemblance to their true belief -- so if you WANT to twist my words, and claim that I believe something I do NOT believe, you will probably be successful. But that is always the case with words, and not limited to politics.
So, as America hurtles once more toward a possibly world-changing election, I once again resolve to try to be bolder about writing about politics. I suppose we should ALL try harder to actually COMMUNICATE about politics -- that is, actually trying to UNDERSTAND each other rather than demonize each other, and actually trying to figure stuff out rather than simply insisting that WE are RIGHT.
Truth is complicated.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Keeping In Touch
In my opinion -- and I am not sure that WE are the best judge of our own personal flaws -- my greatest personal flaw is my failure to keep in touch with my friends. I have never been much of a letter-writer, and I actually have a sort of phobia regarding phone calls ... so once I become geographically distant from someone, I generally fail to maintain much -- or ANY -- contact. It's NOT that they are out of my mind or out of my heart ... but they have no way of knowing this. There are people who I consider to be among my very closest friends, yet I have had absolutely NO contact with them in decades.
Incidentally, I am much better with e-mail -- that is, I send and receive e-mails without most of the difficulty of letters or telephone calls -- but I lost touch with most of these friends long before e-mail was available.
I imagine that most people hearing or reading this would be unsympathetic and maybe disgusted, perhaps pointing out that if I have had absolutely NO contact with someone in several decades, it is unrealistic to think of them as among my closest friends. The fact is that I DO think of these people as my closest friends, regardless of whether it is reasonable or logical.
I have no particular defense; my behavior is indefensible -- though there IS my very real phone phobia, and also some sort of phobic disorder involving snail-mail. (IF I was informed that I had won a million dollars, but I had to call some phone number to claim it, there is about a fifty-fifty chance I would be physically able to make the call. Clearly, this is irrational, and I am not asking anyone to UNDERSTAND it. It is simply a fact. I have had difficulty with telephones since childhood.) (I have realized that the reason I am fine with e-mail, but not with snail-mail, involves issues such as securing and addressing the envelope, which is somehow overwhelming to me -- but I have not really figured this out.)
An aspect of the problem that may be easier to relate to is the fact that as time passes, it becomes more and more socially awkward to initiate contact. I have actually started letters to people, but become bogged down in the early paragraphs with attempts at apologies and explanations, and eventually just given up with the letters unfinished and un-sent. This seems especially tragic. I need some sort of “Get out of jail free” card to casually re-initiate contact without those awkward initial moments.
I was especially aware of the problem last January, just following our traditional midwinter Holiday Season, as I realize the final two or three friends who still sent me holiday greeting cards did NOT send anything this year, for the first time. (By the way, for those who are offended by my mention of the "midwinter Holiday Season" rather than Christmas, the fact is that although I am NOT Jewish, most of the people who send me holiday greeting cards ARE, so most of my greeting cards are for Hanukah or generic "Holiday" cards rather than Christmas.)
I was also thinking about this in relation to blogging. I have not posted any entries in a long time, and it is becoming harder and harder to re-establish contact with this blog. Like reaching out to an old friend, the occasion seems to call for something momentous, rather than casual ... which makes it all the more difficult, and tends to perpetuate non-action rather than action.
One of the greatest challenges in life is reflected in Reinhold Niebuhr's "Serenity Prayer" -- the part about changing the things that can be changed, and accepting the things that cannot, and knowing the difference. This is a challenge that we face with the entire universe, but especially with ourselves. I do not know whether I can do a better job of keeping in touch with my now-lost friends. I think I will try.
Truth is complicated.
Incidentally, I am much better with e-mail -- that is, I send and receive e-mails without most of the difficulty of letters or telephone calls -- but I lost touch with most of these friends long before e-mail was available.
I imagine that most people hearing or reading this would be unsympathetic and maybe disgusted, perhaps pointing out that if I have had absolutely NO contact with someone in several decades, it is unrealistic to think of them as among my closest friends. The fact is that I DO think of these people as my closest friends, regardless of whether it is reasonable or logical.
I have no particular defense; my behavior is indefensible -- though there IS my very real phone phobia, and also some sort of phobic disorder involving snail-mail. (IF I was informed that I had won a million dollars, but I had to call some phone number to claim it, there is about a fifty-fifty chance I would be physically able to make the call. Clearly, this is irrational, and I am not asking anyone to UNDERSTAND it. It is simply a fact. I have had difficulty with telephones since childhood.) (I have realized that the reason I am fine with e-mail, but not with snail-mail, involves issues such as securing and addressing the envelope, which is somehow overwhelming to me -- but I have not really figured this out.)
An aspect of the problem that may be easier to relate to is the fact that as time passes, it becomes more and more socially awkward to initiate contact. I have actually started letters to people, but become bogged down in the early paragraphs with attempts at apologies and explanations, and eventually just given up with the letters unfinished and un-sent. This seems especially tragic. I need some sort of “Get out of jail free” card to casually re-initiate contact without those awkward initial moments.
I was especially aware of the problem last January, just following our traditional midwinter Holiday Season, as I realize the final two or three friends who still sent me holiday greeting cards did NOT send anything this year, for the first time. (By the way, for those who are offended by my mention of the "midwinter Holiday Season" rather than Christmas, the fact is that although I am NOT Jewish, most of the people who send me holiday greeting cards ARE, so most of my greeting cards are for Hanukah or generic "Holiday" cards rather than Christmas.)
I was also thinking about this in relation to blogging. I have not posted any entries in a long time, and it is becoming harder and harder to re-establish contact with this blog. Like reaching out to an old friend, the occasion seems to call for something momentous, rather than casual ... which makes it all the more difficult, and tends to perpetuate non-action rather than action.
One of the greatest challenges in life is reflected in Reinhold Niebuhr's "Serenity Prayer" -- the part about changing the things that can be changed, and accepting the things that cannot, and knowing the difference. This is a challenge that we face with the entire universe, but especially with ourselves. I do not know whether I can do a better job of keeping in touch with my now-lost friends. I think I will try.
Truth is complicated.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Record Albums
In the increasingly-complicated world of digital technology, there is crossover between the functions of different devices. For example, telephones commonly take photos, surf the Internet, and play music. I personally own a computer, and I own CD players, but I do not possess an “iPod”, “smartphone”, or any other smaller device that plays digital music files.
I probably own a couple hundred 33 rpm “record albums”, as well as dozens of “45s” and even a good number of “78s”.
(Perhaps there might already be people reading this that do not realize that these numbers refer to the speed that the record needs to turn to accurately reproduce the recorded sounds. The earliest of these three formats rotated at 78 revolutions per minute, whereas the revolutionary “long-playing” records -- “LPs” -- rotate at 33 revolutions per minute, and the popular “single” records, generally with one song on each side (like the earlier 78s), rotate at 45 revolutions per minute.)
All three of these formats depend on a “needle” following grooves in the surface of the record, and all are subject to scratches and wear. LPs are particularly subject to “warping” -- for the needle to accurately follow the grooves, the record needs to remain relatively flat. Fans of the newer technologies note that CDs and MP3s are dramatically less subject to wear and damage. CDs are easier to carry around than records, and MP3s, being digital files, hardly need to be carried around at all, and can even be transmitted wirelessly. There continues to be debate about the precise audio characteristics of the different formats, with some record purists maintaining that records have a better “sound”, while acknowledging problems with things like wear, scratches, and even dust.
I love record albums. On a superficial level, the fact that record albums are dramatically larger than CDs means that everything associated with their packaging is larger -- especially the photographs or other artwork. Occasionally, record albums were packaged with posters or other extras. CDs still have photographs and other artwork, and are commonly packaged with CD-sized booklets containing additional photos or lyrics or other information, but they are always at least somewhat limited by the relatively small size. There are also less tangible benefits to record albums. I like holding them, and I have a certain enjoyment of the entire process of “playing” a record.
At the same time, I have slowly acquired a few CDs, and a certain appreciation for some of their apparent advantages over records. They certainly seem less fragile and subject to wear, and their size makes them easier to transport. The fact that modern technology has made it possible to duplicate them yourself is also a plus, but there are complicated legal and moral issues here. This brings up the entire issue of cassette tapes, which I have not mentioned.
It was possible for home users to make their own cassettes long before it was possible to make their own CDs or digital media files. For example, I have a much-loved series of cassettes that I recorded off of radio broadcasts. I also have a cassette I purchased from a local band in a third-world country. Cassettes enjoy some of the benefits of CDs, with their small size and relative convenience, and also make it possible for anyone to easily copy a record, CD, or other cassette. They are not packaged with large photographs, artwork, or posters. Unfortunately, cassettes are perhaps the most subject to wear of all the common music formats.
Record albums, pre-recorded (store-bought) cassettes, and pre-recorded (store-bought) CDs all share one profound attribute lacking from more current digital media: They generally contain multiple songs grouped together, in a specific order, sometimes with a subtle, or even obvious, theme that links them together. At the very least, the songs tend to represent a sort of snapshot of what the artists were doing during a given time period.
Yesterday I was listening to one of my records by David Bromberg. I had never HEARD of David Bromberg, until I repeatedly heard ONE of his songs on campus radio while I was in college. I liked that song so well that I eventually purchased the album containing that song. David Bromberg is an amazing musician, capable of playing many instruments and many styles of music, and it turns out that the album contained a wonderful assortment of his music. I later purchased more of his albums. Though I still enjoy that first song, it is not necessarily my favorite song on the album. AND my tastes continue to evolve. There are songs on the album that I do not appreciate much, but I realize that perhaps someday I WILL.
If I was in college today, and heard that song on campus radio, there is a good chance I would purchase just THAT SONG, and nothing more. Since David Bromberg’s music is so varied, if I decided to purchase another David Bromberg song, without hearing it, there is a good chance it would be so different from the initial song that I might decide not to risk my money on any more of his music.
In fact, I do not know how any “modern” college student would be lucky enough to be exposed to the full range of David Bromberg’s music. Perhaps they might hear him in concert -- though I understand he has dramatically cut back on his performance schedule, and of course some day he will cease to perform publicly, as all musicians some day do. Perhaps someone will recommend that they listen to his music -- but that never happened to ME. My entire love of David Bromberg’s music traces back to that one song, which led to the purchase of the album, which led to the purchase of other albums.
I am not qualified to discuss all the subtle benefits of listening to an entire album of music, an album that contains songs you would not necessarily CHOOSE to listen to. As you repeatedly listen to an album, your tastes WILL evolve. Songs that you never noticed, or even songs that you initially disliked, may become your favorites. This is a good thing.
This truly becomes a much larger issue. Someone with their iPod can ask, “Why should I spend even one second of my precious time listening to music that I did not specifically CHOOSE to listen to? Life is too short for that.” I cannot adequately answer that question, but I know that you SHOULD spend time listening to music that you did not specifically choose to listen to, and music that no one else chose for you. I suppose it has to do with the fact that we cannot know what we enjoy before we experience it for the first time -- and even then, we cannot know what we MAY enjoy with repeated experience, or as we ourselves evolve.
Truth is complicated.
I probably own a couple hundred 33 rpm “record albums”, as well as dozens of “45s” and even a good number of “78s”.
(Perhaps there might already be people reading this that do not realize that these numbers refer to the speed that the record needs to turn to accurately reproduce the recorded sounds. The earliest of these three formats rotated at 78 revolutions per minute, whereas the revolutionary “long-playing” records -- “LPs” -- rotate at 33 revolutions per minute, and the popular “single” records, generally with one song on each side (like the earlier 78s), rotate at 45 revolutions per minute.)
All three of these formats depend on a “needle” following grooves in the surface of the record, and all are subject to scratches and wear. LPs are particularly subject to “warping” -- for the needle to accurately follow the grooves, the record needs to remain relatively flat. Fans of the newer technologies note that CDs and MP3s are dramatically less subject to wear and damage. CDs are easier to carry around than records, and MP3s, being digital files, hardly need to be carried around at all, and can even be transmitted wirelessly. There continues to be debate about the precise audio characteristics of the different formats, with some record purists maintaining that records have a better “sound”, while acknowledging problems with things like wear, scratches, and even dust.
I love record albums. On a superficial level, the fact that record albums are dramatically larger than CDs means that everything associated with their packaging is larger -- especially the photographs or other artwork. Occasionally, record albums were packaged with posters or other extras. CDs still have photographs and other artwork, and are commonly packaged with CD-sized booklets containing additional photos or lyrics or other information, but they are always at least somewhat limited by the relatively small size. There are also less tangible benefits to record albums. I like holding them, and I have a certain enjoyment of the entire process of “playing” a record.
At the same time, I have slowly acquired a few CDs, and a certain appreciation for some of their apparent advantages over records. They certainly seem less fragile and subject to wear, and their size makes them easier to transport. The fact that modern technology has made it possible to duplicate them yourself is also a plus, but there are complicated legal and moral issues here. This brings up the entire issue of cassette tapes, which I have not mentioned.
It was possible for home users to make their own cassettes long before it was possible to make their own CDs or digital media files. For example, I have a much-loved series of cassettes that I recorded off of radio broadcasts. I also have a cassette I purchased from a local band in a third-world country. Cassettes enjoy some of the benefits of CDs, with their small size and relative convenience, and also make it possible for anyone to easily copy a record, CD, or other cassette. They are not packaged with large photographs, artwork, or posters. Unfortunately, cassettes are perhaps the most subject to wear of all the common music formats.
Record albums, pre-recorded (store-bought) cassettes, and pre-recorded (store-bought) CDs all share one profound attribute lacking from more current digital media: They generally contain multiple songs grouped together, in a specific order, sometimes with a subtle, or even obvious, theme that links them together. At the very least, the songs tend to represent a sort of snapshot of what the artists were doing during a given time period.
Yesterday I was listening to one of my records by David Bromberg. I had never HEARD of David Bromberg, until I repeatedly heard ONE of his songs on campus radio while I was in college. I liked that song so well that I eventually purchased the album containing that song. David Bromberg is an amazing musician, capable of playing many instruments and many styles of music, and it turns out that the album contained a wonderful assortment of his music. I later purchased more of his albums. Though I still enjoy that first song, it is not necessarily my favorite song on the album. AND my tastes continue to evolve. There are songs on the album that I do not appreciate much, but I realize that perhaps someday I WILL.
If I was in college today, and heard that song on campus radio, there is a good chance I would purchase just THAT SONG, and nothing more. Since David Bromberg’s music is so varied, if I decided to purchase another David Bromberg song, without hearing it, there is a good chance it would be so different from the initial song that I might decide not to risk my money on any more of his music.
In fact, I do not know how any “modern” college student would be lucky enough to be exposed to the full range of David Bromberg’s music. Perhaps they might hear him in concert -- though I understand he has dramatically cut back on his performance schedule, and of course some day he will cease to perform publicly, as all musicians some day do. Perhaps someone will recommend that they listen to his music -- but that never happened to ME. My entire love of David Bromberg’s music traces back to that one song, which led to the purchase of the album, which led to the purchase of other albums.
I am not qualified to discuss all the subtle benefits of listening to an entire album of music, an album that contains songs you would not necessarily CHOOSE to listen to. As you repeatedly listen to an album, your tastes WILL evolve. Songs that you never noticed, or even songs that you initially disliked, may become your favorites. This is a good thing.
This truly becomes a much larger issue. Someone with their iPod can ask, “Why should I spend even one second of my precious time listening to music that I did not specifically CHOOSE to listen to? Life is too short for that.” I cannot adequately answer that question, but I know that you SHOULD spend time listening to music that you did not specifically choose to listen to, and music that no one else chose for you. I suppose it has to do with the fact that we cannot know what we enjoy before we experience it for the first time -- and even then, we cannot know what we MAY enjoy with repeated experience, or as we ourselves evolve.
Truth is complicated.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Cancer
My father died of cancer. He died a few decades ago, when he was in his early seventies. That's kind of an awkward age at which to die. You can't really say, "He died young," but you also can't say, "He lived a long life." Aside from the cancer, he spent most of his life healthy, strong, and active. He lived about ten and a half years after his cancer was first diagnosed. From the time he was diagnosed until the time he died, he had the full range of cancer treatments used at that time, including surgeries, months of radiation treatment, and years of chemotherapy.
The first step in his treatment was months of radiation therapy. He did some research prior to beginning treatment, and found that his best chance -- the place most likely to be able to cure his particular cancer -- was at a major university hospital, hundreds of miles away, in a region where the weather stays pleasant most of the year. So he arranged for his treatment, hopped on a plane, and lived in a motel for a few months. The actual treatments and medical appointments did not take up much of his time. While not busy being treated, he went sightseeing, took long walks, read books, and attended some university classes. At this completion of his initial series of radiation treatments, he returned home to a midwestern winter, tanned, toned, and energetic. He would joke about the fact that after his return, people who had heard about his cancer would say, "You LOOK good!" -- always with the emphasis on the word "look", since they believed that he was in fact dying.
I have already admitted that he DID die, following a full range of treatments over more than a decade. There are different ways to look at those ten and a half years. Certainly, the cloud of cancer was always there -- although there was always SOME hope of a sort of "cure", or at least a few more good years. Eventually, some of the treatments, and some of the progress of the disease, left him with some permanent discomforts and disabilities, such as the possibility that he might need to get to a bathroom in a hurry, and might not make it in time.
Truth is complicated. Another way to look at those ten and a half years is to say he lived them ... well, I like to say he lived them like a beer commercial. Aware of his own mortality, and of the ticking clock, he lived life to the fullest. About a year after his initial diagnosis, he built -- with his own hands, and the help of a more experienced friend -- a cabin in the country. Three years after his diagnosis he took his first trip all the way around the world. I say "first" because seven years after his diagnosis he took his SECOND round-the-world trip (in the opposite direction; we used to say it was to get back in sync with where he was supposed to be). He had always been a traveler, but the travels got more adventurous and exotic. In fact, shortly before his death he had to cancel an African safari, in order to have surgery on a newly-discovered tumor.
There is a downside even to living life to the fullest. On some occasions, he became less patient ... the clock was ticking. He sometimes had less tolerance, deciding, for instance, that if he had never enjoyed eating some particular food, he would no longer eat it, and instead eat the food that he enjoyed. This is not to say he became selfish and self-centered. If anything, he became more compassionate, and encouraged others to also live life to the fullest -- though I should acknowledge that these are MY words, not his; he wasn't one to regularly use phrases like "live life to the fullest".
Though I was busy living my own life, I was privileged to be involved in many of the travels, and, like all his loved ones, shared and helped with the various experiences. A few months before he died, Halley's Comet made one of its regular visits to our neck of the solar system. It was my father's first and last opportunity to view the famous comet, but at that time it was almost invisible to the naked eye. I set up my small telescope out in our icy driveway (it was January), and my weakened father made his way out to it, assisted by a cane hand-carved long ago by his father. He grumbled all the way to the telescope -- that was sometimes his way -- but he viewed the comet, and thanked me for ... well, I'm not sure whether he said, "Making me look at it," but he MIGHT have.
A few weeks later, we were amazed to learn that aggressive chemotherapy had succeeded in obliterating a tumor that had previously been called "incurable". A few weeks after THAT, a CT scan was done to confirm that the tumor had totally disappeared. THAT tumor had indeed vanished, but the scan revealed new tumors. He lived a month or two after that.
My father died too young. But the same cancer that ultimately ended his life also contributed to his life in positive ways. I cannot quite bring myself to say, "The cancer was a good thing." I will never know what might have become of his (and my) life without the cancer. Everyone dies. My father lived a good life. I miss my father.
Truth is complicated.
The first step in his treatment was months of radiation therapy. He did some research prior to beginning treatment, and found that his best chance -- the place most likely to be able to cure his particular cancer -- was at a major university hospital, hundreds of miles away, in a region where the weather stays pleasant most of the year. So he arranged for his treatment, hopped on a plane, and lived in a motel for a few months. The actual treatments and medical appointments did not take up much of his time. While not busy being treated, he went sightseeing, took long walks, read books, and attended some university classes. At this completion of his initial series of radiation treatments, he returned home to a midwestern winter, tanned, toned, and energetic. He would joke about the fact that after his return, people who had heard about his cancer would say, "You LOOK good!" -- always with the emphasis on the word "look", since they believed that he was in fact dying.
I have already admitted that he DID die, following a full range of treatments over more than a decade. There are different ways to look at those ten and a half years. Certainly, the cloud of cancer was always there -- although there was always SOME hope of a sort of "cure", or at least a few more good years. Eventually, some of the treatments, and some of the progress of the disease, left him with some permanent discomforts and disabilities, such as the possibility that he might need to get to a bathroom in a hurry, and might not make it in time.
Truth is complicated. Another way to look at those ten and a half years is to say he lived them ... well, I like to say he lived them like a beer commercial. Aware of his own mortality, and of the ticking clock, he lived life to the fullest. About a year after his initial diagnosis, he built -- with his own hands, and the help of a more experienced friend -- a cabin in the country. Three years after his diagnosis he took his first trip all the way around the world. I say "first" because seven years after his diagnosis he took his SECOND round-the-world trip (in the opposite direction; we used to say it was to get back in sync with where he was supposed to be). He had always been a traveler, but the travels got more adventurous and exotic. In fact, shortly before his death he had to cancel an African safari, in order to have surgery on a newly-discovered tumor.
There is a downside even to living life to the fullest. On some occasions, he became less patient ... the clock was ticking. He sometimes had less tolerance, deciding, for instance, that if he had never enjoyed eating some particular food, he would no longer eat it, and instead eat the food that he enjoyed. This is not to say he became selfish and self-centered. If anything, he became more compassionate, and encouraged others to also live life to the fullest -- though I should acknowledge that these are MY words, not his; he wasn't one to regularly use phrases like "live life to the fullest".
Though I was busy living my own life, I was privileged to be involved in many of the travels, and, like all his loved ones, shared and helped with the various experiences. A few months before he died, Halley's Comet made one of its regular visits to our neck of the solar system. It was my father's first and last opportunity to view the famous comet, but at that time it was almost invisible to the naked eye. I set up my small telescope out in our icy driveway (it was January), and my weakened father made his way out to it, assisted by a cane hand-carved long ago by his father. He grumbled all the way to the telescope -- that was sometimes his way -- but he viewed the comet, and thanked me for ... well, I'm not sure whether he said, "Making me look at it," but he MIGHT have.
A few weeks later, we were amazed to learn that aggressive chemotherapy had succeeded in obliterating a tumor that had previously been called "incurable". A few weeks after THAT, a CT scan was done to confirm that the tumor had totally disappeared. THAT tumor had indeed vanished, but the scan revealed new tumors. He lived a month or two after that.
My father died too young. But the same cancer that ultimately ended his life also contributed to his life in positive ways. I cannot quite bring myself to say, "The cancer was a good thing." I will never know what might have become of his (and my) life without the cancer. Everyone dies. My father lived a good life. I miss my father.
Truth is complicated.
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