Virtues and Vices

As the year turns, people's thoughts often turn to adoption of new habits, usually more virtuous ones, or even eliminating some vices from one's daily life.  My sense is that life is better lived in the positive than in the negative--favoring the adoption of new habits over the elimination of some old ones.  It can get tricky.  Some new habits give away in their description their true identity as elimination of vices.  In its simplest form, consider this--One person vows to "quit smoking," ostensibly just a promise to cease a bad habit or vice.  Another decides to adopt a "smoke-free" lifestyle.  Sounds positive, but it is just turning the first statement inside-out.  

Often enough, people look at what is missing from their lives and try to incorporate some in the coming year (or months, weeks or days, depending upon the strength of one's resolve).  Once more, however, this sounds to me more like a complaint turned inside-out.  "Incorporating more moderation into one's life" is really just a way of twisting "I wish I didn't eat so much that I feel lousy the next several days" into a positive statement.  The latter is the personal cliff that a lot of us face in the daylight hours of a holiday like New Year's Eve (Congress is not the only party facing a cliff).  Should I try to be more virtuous today in advance of next year's resolve, or should I have one last fling tonight?  Will I avoid the need to resort to some pain relief or indigestion relief medications at the dawn of this New Year?   

One of my favorite curmudgeons, H L Mencken, said the true aim of medicine is not to make men virtuous, but to safeguard men from the consequences of their vices.  In terms of New Year's Eve excesses, I think he was right on the money.  But I'm not here just trying to talk myself out of overdoing it tonight, I'm thinking more about how to deal with resolutions for the coming year.  

I inadvertently stumbled on my first one by making a choice some months prior to the election.  I swore off listening to political talk, to the extent I could control my environment, and I was happier for it.  Less listening to the constant cries of both sides and the name -calling that went with it made more room in my life for music.  So one resolution for me is to continue the trend of adding more music to my life.  You might accuse me of twisting a dislike for what passes for political discourse today into a resolution, but I don't think it is.  I want to try looking at what I like in my life, and trying to get a little more of it.  (Number one) Resolved--more music.  

I have visited with lots of friends recently, including virtual visits via email and telephone and in-person stops with people face-to-face--some who had been part of my life many years ago, some who have been part of my life for a long time, and even one or two who have moved away.  I am reminded of how important friendship can be, especially attempting to stay in touch with ones who recently moved away and reconnecting with people I knew years ago.  I hate to take for granted all those who have been and remain connected to me, but the ones that you keep in touch with when they move on--either temporarily or permanently seem to make the importance of their friendship stand out.  What you almost lose becomes a bit more precious.  Similarly, those you reconnect with remind you of what you once lost and have now regained.  I could have shortened this one up by just saying it in the first place.  (Number two) Resolved--more friendship.

Something this little blog has taught me is how much I enjoy just writing.  Obvious, I guess, but it does take some effort and resolve to make more of it in my life.  (Number three) Resolved--more writing.  I could go on, but I have a few other things to attend to, so I think I'll just throw out a couple I had in mind when I started this little note--More hugs and more breathing it all in every single day.  More hugs doesn't require much explanation, does it?  Breathing it all in is just another way of saying I want to be present all the time, soaking in the gift that is each day of my life.  Adding those two makes a handful.  Good enough for me--More music, more friendship, more writing, more hugs and more just breathing it all in.  Have a Happy New Year, with more of what you love in it.          

Watching

Sitting quietly in a window overlooking snow-covered Forest Park in St. Louis' Central West End.  What could be more beautiful?  I've seen the park in at least three of the four seasons from this same vantage point, and I have to hand it to winter.  Last evening's snowfall clings to every branch on every piece of vegetation, and it is like a charcoal sketch on the purest white paper.   It's a Saturday morning, quiet in this apartment as no one else has awakened.  One of the blessings of my age and circumstance is that I can spend my favorite time of day in solitude.  Further quieting the scene, street traffic is light--the day of the week lessens the numbers on their way to work or school.  Driving is a voluntary activity for many today and folks are choosing to linger, as I have, over a cup of coffee instead of driving somewhere right now, unless they must. 

All of the trees display their skeletons and at their outermost appear like thin layers of cloud, through which you can just make out the spaces behind.  A clean blanket of snow fills all the space among the trees and bushes.  Almost nothing is untouched by white.   Cloud cover minimizes shadows and will likely extend the life of this picture for hours longer, so I'll sit and breathe it all in.  

Simply gazing at it all can leave your coffee cup unacknowledged, cooling on the table before you.  A shame, in some respects--the microwave is on the fritz, so lukewarm coffee goes to waste this morning.  I am  sure that many people put microwaves to a myriad of uses, but my most frequent use of the microwave is to reheat coffee I have absentmindedly let stand too long.  

It's past nine AM, walkers are beginning to venture into the park, so there can no longer be a solitary stroll in snow.  I am not in any hurry to be out in it, I'll take watching from this perch over the harrowing drive home last night just about every time.  

I simply can't remember the last time I saw snow like this.  I grew up where snow was common, but have left snow behind by living where I live.  On any other day, I'd say the trade off of living in a warmer clime is in my favor, but I'm glad for today, just to watch a while.

Cliffs As They Ought To Be

Google "cliffs" today and you will be inundated with blather about the "fiscal cliff." (WARNING--This note has nothing to do with the self-imposed drama taking place in Washington, D.C. these days)  Even Google ignores the "s" I put at the end of my search word.  The sad fact is that this unfortunate expression is washing away, albeit temporarily, some of the most beautiful and striking formations on this earth--the cliffs.  Having grown up in the Midwest, where it is mostly flat, and migrated to the Carolina Lowcountry, where it is even flatter, I have limited in person exposure to cliffs.  

In fact, I don't think I have seen any cliffs in North America.  One of the most memorable sights in Ireland I had the pleasure of casting my eyes upon was the Cliffs of Moher.  It was a marvel.  We were there on a drizzly day (not uncommon in Ireland, I know), but those visiting were undeterred.  We walked about in the rain and gaped in awe at the cliffs and their precipitous descent into the Atlantic.  We listened to the tales of tragic derring-do when those wandering too close to the edge fell to their deaths.  As cliffs go, the Cliffs of Moher at just over 200 meters are not the largest cliffs in the world.  There is one in Pakistan that rises more than 1200 meters from the ground.  

Thanks to Wikipedia, I was able to view spectacular photos of many of the cliffs of North America, which are more likely candidates for my bucket list than Pakistan's.    There was Notch Peak, Royal Gorge, Devil's Tower, El Capitan, and the Toroweap Fault, to name a few. The most dramatic to me eye were the "two-fers"--the canyons or gorges.  Go take a look at the Black Canyon formed by the Gunnison River or Zion Canyon.  If I had the talent, I'd import the pictures, but you can go to Wikipedia and see these cliffs if your mind's eye fails to bring up anything you have seen.  Please note that none of these cliffs are found in the Eastern half of the U.S.  In fact, most are in the mountain ranges of the American West, far away from the Beltway.  Surely this is a better focus for our attention than a fiscal cliff.

I will even offer a less majestic, but still worthy "cliff" for your consideration--that savior of many a high school student unwilling or unable to read some of those long and dull reading assignments--Cliff's Notes.  Education would have ground to a halt for at least a generation or two if not for Cliff's Notes and their complete and thorough explanation of the salient points of much of the most boring and tedious literature deemed essential by the educators of the last century.  Let's face it, The Catcher in the Rye was about the only book on those reading lists that everyone actually read.  Despite that fact, Cliff's Notes offers one of its digests on that book as well.  Anyway, even that is a better cliff for us to contemplate that the one before us today.    

The point here is for all of us to cast our votes in favor of forgetting about the furtive floundering of those federal fools and their freaking, fatuous, fictional fiscal cliff in Washington, DC altogether.  Let's focus instead on the cliffs we can scarcely take in for all their beauty.    

A Foot Fell On Des Moines

Does this strike anyone else as funny?  As snow marched across the Midwest for the first time since last winter, this line was uttered by Brian Williams on the evening news.  I wonder what Des Moines would look like if a giant foot actually fell on it?  And, where would the rest of the giant have fallen?  If it fell in Iowa, did it get back up?  In the process of getting back on its feet, could it avoid kneeling on the Quad Cities?  I have never been to Des Moines, but I know some cities that looked like a giant stepped on them.  I mean stepping on them is probably different from falling, right?  Take Detroit, MI, for example, or Rochester, NY.  Something clearly stepped on them, and probably kept moving.  What kind of giant was it?  Who knows, he was moving much faster than either city was.   How fast can Des Moines move?   Questions like this don't occur to me very often, but I think they bear some rumination (note the use of one part--number 329-- of the famous "Vocabulary of Success: 403 Words Smart People Should Know.") 

How fast can a city go?  I lived in Atlanta in the 1980's, and it was moving pretty fast.  In fact, Gwinnett County (the suburban county where I actually lived) was the fastest-growing county in the U.S. for five years running (imagine living in a county that was running for five years).  In the end, I moved somewhere that moved slower, in fact a place with a surfeit of slow--Savannah, GA.  (Wow...surfeit, that makes 2 words from the 403 now--that was number 355).  How slow is Savannah?  It took five years to approve and open its first Target Store.  For at least a year of that period, we were seeing TV ads in anticipation of the store's arrival, not because the Target marketing people  were so forward-looking--Savannah was just moving slower than the rest of the world ever imagined it could move, if cities still move.  I'd call it glacial movement, but Savannah is just in too warm a climate.   

But, we were talking about a foot falling on Des Moines.  We leave words out of sentences all the time.  Little wonder, we say, we're in a hurry, all the time.  Probably that giant that stepped on Des Moines--oh, I mean fell.  Oh, stop, I'm being silly.  It was snow that fell on Des Moines--a foot of snow.  So, it was a giant foot of snow--the Abominable Snowman's?  But I thought he was imaginary, and what is he doing in Iowa?  OK, he said he'd be home for Christmas, and was taking a short cut.  You know the song, "I met a man who lives in Tennessee, and he was headed for Pennsylvania and a homemade pumpkin pie..."  We just missed the verse that follows that one.  Here's the original verse: 
I met a man who lives in TennesseeAnd he was headin' for PennsylvaniaAnd some home made pumpkin pieFrom Pennsylvania folks a travelin' downTo Dixie's sunny shoreFrom Atlantic to Pacific, man,The traffic is terrific

and here's the one we missed: 

A big old snowman fell on Iowa,
and he was mighty sore, not where home was, 
home made pie for him no more.
He rolled on the Quad cities indeed all four, 
and home was no closer than it ever was before.  
From Rochester on to Detroit, 
gee the stomping was terrific.  
Oh, he loves to see the Arctic

No good, huh?  I probably should have quit while I was ahead, or was it a foot?  

Merry Christmas, may these holidays find you safely home.  God bless us everyone.

     

December Days--Fragments, Glimpses and Pieces

Talking with old friends this week, I touched on some things I did on December days growing up in Chicago.  Usually a good December day in Chicago included 1) a freshly fallen snow, 2) a few streets with a smooth hard-packed layer of that snow and 3) some number of unsuspecting drivers crawling along those streets at a snail’s pace.  As they drove past, we’d grab the bumper and “skitch” (ski on our feet?) behind the car for as long as we could hold on.  If we collected anything, it was snowballs for throwing at our friends.  By their nature, snowballs perish and are gone with the wind and a little melting by the sun.  Oh, those days could be memorable. 

My days these days are nothing like them, but special in their own way.  A walk at the beach today quickly became a shell hunt. It was one of those times; a retreating tide, an especially calm day, lots of bright sunshine.   I have no idea which condition, if any, contributes to it, but the sand was peppered with shells.  We have a thing for the shells of the olive snail (a vastly different snail from the ones we hunted in Chicago).  The olive is the state shell of South Carolina, but we find them only rarely.  Until today, I was the only one in the family who had found an olive shell in the past seven years.  Today I found the first shell, but Sheila found three more, keeping two.  That made this a pretty good December day at the beach.  I suppose that technically these are shell fragments, some just seem to have held more of their original components as they were discarded by their inhabitants.  Olive shells come from the olive snail, a predatory mollusk (I knew you wanted to know).   They are oval, shiny and colorful, thus, they are  popular with collectors and jewelry makers--which is probably why we don't find them often, they are being picked up by early risers.   

Common as they are in the local waters, actually seeing a dolphin happens to me all too infrequently.  Just covering another base, I caught a glimpse of a dolphin, feeding close to shore, followed by a handful of pelicans diving for (probably the same) fish.  I have no idea how much fish a pelican eats per day, but I know it takes seventy-five pounds of fish to feed a dolphin each day.  My theory as to why I rarely see them at the beach--they probably need to look at places with less flesh and more fish.  What swims along our shore would not be all that tasty for a dolphin.  But still, it's a good day in December when you see a dolphin, if only for a moment.     

Another thing that we used to take for granted on our beach was a steady supply of sand dollars.  However, we were quickly educated in this regard.   Sand dollars that wash up on our shore are most often still alive, and, therefore, should be returned to the sea.  Only on a rare day do you find a sand dollar that is really dead.  So, today, of course, we found one white from the sun and completely devoid of soft tissue, thus available for us to add to our collected booty for the day.  It was missing a piece, not unlike all the shells we picked up along the way.  We aren't collectors, but we keep a few in a bowl with sand to show to visitors.  These pieces tell them some of the ocean's story.  So these pieces of shells and sand dollars came home with us, more signs of a good day at the beach.  It all adds up to a fine day in December I never imagined as I grew up.        

A Word From The Word Police

My spouse and I were having a brief conversation yesterday about a letter we received (enclosed in a Christmas card).  The letter-in-a-card came from a former neighbor of ours, who inserted the letter to mark the occasion of his decision to discontinue their practice of sending annual Christmas greetings in a card.  He made the obligatory comment about donating any savings to the charity of his choice.  Big deal, I guess.  We really haven't sent Christmas cards to speak of in many years.  This couple has been an exception.  As we have for the past ten years, we had mailed them a card last Friday.  We have always felt sort of obligated to send one to them since they began sending one to us each year after they moved away.  My wife passed me the letter without comment to see how I might react.  I didn't.  She couldn't stand it, so she asked me what I thought.  I observed that when they lived across the street, we didn't exchange cards, but did have them over for a Christmas drink now and then.   We nattered back and forth about who used to write the cards and who had written this one, and moved on to other things.  

A short time later, she returned and said the tone of the letter was sort of curmudgeony to her.  I immediately pointed out that "curmudgeony" was not a word at all.  Someone has to police word use around here.  

She gave me the usual roll of the eyeballs and waited for a response that was more on point.  I pointed out that in this season, she might ought to have said his tone was Scroogeish.  She did not even rise to the bait, but instead chose to weigh my response to see if she might locate some actual meaningful acknowledgement of her point.  Nodding her head, she noted that the Scrooge reference seemed more apt, in light of the fact that he had made it a point to note he would be donating any savings "to the charity of his choice."  

It seemed to me he had borrowed that phrase from somewhere, in light of the simple fact that he should already know which charity is the charity of his choice, wouldn't you think?  My wife believes he is euphemistically saying he will keep the savings for himself (that being his favorite charity).  I don't care.  We did wonder about whether it was the spirit of Scrooge or our former neighbor's turning into a curmudgeon that had brought this on.  His wife usually sent the cards, and it was probably just a coincidence  that the first year he seemed to have been given the assignment of sending the cards would also be their last.  I found myself wishing we knew her birthday, so we could start sending her a birthday card just for the fun of it.  

But I really wanted to talk about words and their evolution.  In some small way, we felt as if we had contributed to creating a word a few years back when my wife observed while we were driving somewhere (and now seemed likely to be late) that she really hadn't expected it to be so trafficky at that hour.  The friends who were staying with us agreed with me during the ride that "trafficky" was not a word at all.  

However, not wanting to be seen as siding with me completely, one of the passengers (yes, it was the girl passenger) later took the position that it should be and proceeded to use it at every opportunity during her stay.  I felt like I had to just take a look when Merriam-Webster published its list of new words the next year (you know, the ones that had come into use so regularly that they were being added to the dictionary).  We're still looking.  "Trafficky" has not made the list.  

Now, the competition is between "curmudgeony" and "scroogeish" (yes, the upper case letter is optional).  If the vote takes place in the last two weeks of the year, I think I have a better chance.  

P.S., Being fair-minded, I just added both "curmudgeony" and "scroogeish" to my internal dictionary in Word.  I still won't add "trafficky."  You have to draw a line somewhere.

         

Fearless and Tentative

A friend asked me recently if I was being tentative, and it set me to thinking.  One of the tangents I went down was which meaning of tentative were we talking about--the sense in which things are neither certain or fixed, but instead are just not fully worked out?  Or, were we talking about the one where you are hesitant and acting without confidence? For clarity's sake, let's call-- 

• "tentative-not fixed or fully worked out"- tentative number 1, and 
• "tentative-hesitant, lacking confidence"- tentative number 2.  

Statements and actions that are tentative in the here's-what-I-am-thinking-now-but-it's-not-fully-worked-out sense require a certain willingness to lean into a subject and face the uncertainties-- a sort of fearlessness about life.  "I don't know for certain, but here is what i think, how about you?"  A conversation that proceeds this way may run the risk of your having to accept that there is indeed another way to look at something (you may not have exclusive hold on the right answer or position!), or even being persuaded to look at the situation differently (change your mind?!?).  This is tentative 1.  

If, on the other hand, you have spent all your time building up this ego that has fixed opinions, likes, dislikes, etc. and have become attached to it, you might feel tentative as in uncomfortable when contradicted--or even fearful if you have allowed the matter to assume some great importance to you and your identity.  Being wrong can be a threat to your ego.  You might even have your ego wrapped up in the righteousness of your opinion.  This might make you a little hesitant, even tentative (as in tentative 2).  

Living that way, you withdraw from what you fear.  Even your hopes are just re-worded fears (e.g., I hope that is the good news we are expecting is another way of saying I hope it's not the bad news we were afraid of).  But I kind of like the tentative number 1.  I can accept and seek to understand others, have compassion for them and try to make life better for all of us with this form of tentative, I think. And I don't have to be afraid--if there's change, it will work out, it always has.

In a sense, being tentative number 1 requires the ability to detach and let go a little.  Don't get so convinced about what you think or have said or decided about some aspect of life.  After all, life is change, and impermanence is an overarching part of our existence, even if we try to believe otherwise.  We change, our lives and families change, our bodies, our minds, our very cell structure changes.  If we look closely, nothing is permanently permanent, is it? 

Look at us--what we see as our form or body changes constantly (can you say aging?), what we feel emotionally changes overnight, our senses play tricks on us--sometimes fooling us. Don't get me started on our thoughts, they are constantly flying around in our heads like chattering monkeys.  If experience tells us all of this about what goes on around us, what do you make of this whole idea of the inside-you, your consciousness?  Tentative number 1 is sounding like it fits reality, isn't it?  Think about it, I mean really think

In our own heads, we are probably a bit tentative number 2 from time to time, aren't we?  Not absolutely certain of this or that just yet.  It often takes a lifetime of building to develop the certainty we sometimes claim.  Over years of experience, we have attached ourselves to some fixed ideas and convinced ourselves, maybe, that we have a firm grip on what's right.  Hmmm, then why are there so many different opinions in this world?  They can't all be right, can they?  If that is so, then do you really believe that, by some happy circumstance, yours just happen to be the right ones?  It seems more sensible to be tentative number 1 about life. It's easier to face life and live it this way.  Don't assume the burden of being right all the time, you will learn to fear being wrong about things and it might make you hesitant (tentative 2) about life.

Oh sure, many rightfully believe in a world of absolute truths that are articles of their faith--the existence of God, of heaven and, perhaps, even hell.  I mean no disrespect to those beliefs, but that is what they are--they are beliefs.  It takes a leap of faith to accept those ideas.  But they arise, not out of our earthly experience, but out of some external transmission through a prophet, or a Messiah, who is at once human and divine, or some other prophet or being inspired by an external force.  

When we examine our earthly experience, we see change, change, change...  So, my sense is that expressing opinions or in the broader sense, living our lives, is something we might want to engage in tentatively.  Accept the fact of change and uncertainty, but lean into it and live life!  Do it as brilliantly, as fearlessly as you can.  

If you don't, you are bound to wind up living the life of tentative number 2, hesitating, never fully committing to anything, but clinging fast to what you think is right--what your ego is convinced of.  

Four Hundred and Three Words

I have to admit to a certain infatuation with words.  You have probably already deduced[1] that, of course.  Why else would I write this little collection of essays?  I have a friend who is a much better writer than I and who has a far better vocabulary than anyone I know.  She uses words I know the meaning of, but am never able to bring to mind when I need them, and she uses words that send me to a dictionary as well.  Even occasionally using words she tosses out with ease will lead me to an ebullience[2] about my vocabulary that most people wouldn’t share.  She once wrote me a nice note entitled “Words” in which she expressed her chagrin[3] over being briefly at a loss for words to describe something, but that’s another story. 

The point is I like words.  The reason all of this is on my mind is that I ran across a book called The Vocabulary of Success today on the bargain-priced table at Barnes & Noble.  The subtitle is actually what caught my eye—“403 Words That Smart People Should Know.”  Its author is a denizen[4] of a law firm, which surprises me—in most of the lawyers I have run across there was a paucity[5] of clear speech, which only piqued[6] my interest further.  It turns out the author teaches lawyers how to write effectively. 

I decided to share some of these gems in the interest of improving your prospects for becoming “smart.”  I have inserted many of the chosen words, footnoting them with definitions.  I am hoping this makes up for the amount ofbrain power you will probably have lost by the time you finish reading this piece

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[1] Number 79, to derive or draw as a conclusion by reasoning from given premises

[2] Number 105, showing enthusiasm or wxhiliration of feeling

[3] Number 47, to vex by disappointment

[4] Number 86, inhabitant or resident; one who frequently inhabits a place

[5] Number 248, smallness of quantity; scarcity

[6] Number 261, to excite interest of curiosity in

But, why are there 403 words exactly?  Surely there is a myriad[1] of words that would qualify.  Sadly, he offers no explanation for that, except to explain that he started with 5,000.  Then, he has the effrontery[2] to proffer[3] his list without deigning[4] to provide his rationale for us to ruminate[5] about. 

Some words make the list for reasons of correcting obviously lawyerly errors.  For example, lawyers often misuse the word “therefor,” therefore, our author included it and “therefore” in his list, while explaining the reason therefor[6].   The author aims to prevent misuse of the regular adverb in place of the conjunctive adverb, which is, of course, a solecism[7].

Others fail to make the list for reasons I cannot understand.  Is he trying to hoodwink[8] us when he fails to include any words that begin with “J?”   Surely a lawyer would throw in jurisprudence, or jive or josh.  In all this travail[9] could he not cover the whole alphabet?  He also failed to cover “K.”  No, his list is kaput in my book.  Am I just kvetching?  I think not.  Surely someone could have kibitzed on behalf of “K.”

I will admit that “X” and “Y” might present a challenge, but his inscrutable[10] deliberations shed no light on why “smart 

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[1] Number 217, a vast indefinite number

[2] Number 110, unblushing impudence or boldness

[3] Number 282, to offer to another for acceptance

[4] Number 81, to deem worthy of notice or account

[5] Number 329, to chew over again, to  ponder

[6] Number 367, both words—the conjunctive adverb and the regular

[7]  Number 341, a nonstandard or ungrammatical usage

[8] Number  163, to deceive, trick, cheat, swindle

[9]  Number 372, hard or agonizing labor

[10]  Number 189, incapable of analyzed, investigated or scrutinized

people” need not be cognizant of words that begin with “X,” or “Y.”

  

Can “smart people” really have insight without knowing the yin and yang of existence?  Or is he merely xenophobic, fearing the ideas because they originated in another culture?  (OK, I have now covered all four of the missing letters, we all know he could have if I can)

In the end, lists like this will never make it into our zeitgeist[1], hence its position on the bargain books table, marked down by seventy-five percent.

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[1]  Number 403, the spirit of the times