St Paddy's Day Eve

'Tis St Paddy's Day Eve and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, neither doggy nor spouse

In the kitchen, the makings were all neatly laid there
For that special drink made with traditional care

There's coffee there waiting to be rapidly made
and Jameson's whiskey we'll add at the parade,

The special recipe we've improved through the years of good use.
We'll be addin' whipped cream and Bailey''s, our spirits to loose.

Sometimes 'tis needed to ward off leprechauns
 or just to keep spirits up as the special day dawns.

Yes 'twill soon be St. Paddy's day in Savannah, G-A
and that parade is a sight that can sweep ya away.

To save us our spot there's Johnny,  he'll stay overnight
So we can have that old watching place--always just right,

There in the median of East Broad Street, that old avenue
Where the Pirate's House sits becoming part of the view.

And there sits Eileen who'll plant kisses of red
on the cheeks of those soldiers who march straight ahead.

At the Pirate's we'll breakfast; with family and friends, some old and some new
More than just fill our plates, we'll earn that special bonus, a day's pass to the loo.

Soon the spectacle holds us spellbound--with all that we see.
The Irish, their floats; bagpipe bands and yes--much revelry.

Yes it's St. Paddy's day, so we'll share Irish coffee
(except for Jim G. who prefers a small taste of just Irish whiskey)

All the while we'll be thinking of friends and family,
some present today, some who can't always be.

But their voices today you might just chance to hear
wishing Happy St. Paddy's to both those away and those near.

--Jim B on the occasion of his 20th St. Paddy's day parade in Savannah

What Was That, Anyway?

A few days ago, I was reminded of my old high school days.  Our teacher in Honors English (yes, I was once in the upper echelon of the study of English--I even had a close brush with majoring in English...but that's another story) our teacher introduced us to modern theater.  We listened to Luigi Pirandello describe the world where man has only himself as a guide, no principles of philosophy or dogma, just our own experience; in a word--Existentialism.
  
We met Jean Paul Sartre, who told us, "However, again, I am first and foremost not my situation. Thus, at every moment I choose whether to continue on that life path, or to be something else. Thus, my existence (the mere fact that I am) is prior to my essence (what I make of myself through my free choices). I am thus utterly responsible for myself. If my act is not simply whatever happens to come to mind, then my action may embody a more general principle of action. This principle too is one that I must have freely chosen and committed myself to."

Father Ryan also gave  us a nodding acquaintance with Albert Camus.  Camus introduced us to the absurd, "Perhaps we should clarify from the very beginning what the absurd is not. The absurd is not nihilism."  For Camus the acceptance of the absurd does not lead to nihilism (according to Nietzsche nihilism denotes the state in which the highest values devalue themselves) or to inertia, but rather to their opposite: to action and participation. The notion of the absurd signifies the space which opens up between, on the one hand, man’s need for intelligibility and, on the other hand, 'the unreasonable silence of the world' as he beautifully puts it.

The absurd man, like an astronaut looking at the earth from above, wonders whether a philosophical system, a religion or a political ideology is able to make the world respond to the questioning of man, or rather whether all human constructions are nothing but the excessive face-paint of a clown which is there to cover his sadness.

Scorn is the appropriate response in the face of the absurd; another name for this 'scorn' though would be artistic creation. When Camus says: “One does not discover the absurd without being tempted to write a manual of happiness” (Camus 2000:110).

The so-called manual of happiness manifested itself in the "Theater of the Absurd."  Critic Martin Esslin coined the term in his 1960 essay "Theatre of the Absurd." He related the plays he was discussing as plays based on a broad theme of the Absurd, similar to the way Albert Camus uses the term in his 1942 essay, "The Myth of Sisyphus".  The Absurd in these plays takes the form of man’s reaction to a world apparently without meaning, and/or man as a puppet controlled or menaced by invisible outside forces. Though the term is applied to a wide range of plays, some characteristics coincide in many of the plays: broad comedy, often similar to Vaudeville, mixed with horrific or tragic images; characters caught in hopeless situations forced to do repetitive or meaningless actions; dialogue full of clichés, wordplay, and nonsense; plots that are cyclical or absurdly expansive; either a parody or dismissal of realism and the concept of the "well-made play".  I wouldn't call Whiskey Tango Foxtrot as quite so absurd as what Esslin describes above, but there are situations that make you reflect a bit.

The mode of most "absurdist" plays is tragicomedy. As Nell says in Endgame, "Nothing is funnier than unhappiness … it's the most comical thing in the world".  Esslin cites William Shakespeare as an influence on this aspect of the "Absurd drama."  Friedrich Dürrenmatt says in his essay "Problems of the Theatre", "Comedy alone is suitable for us … But the tragic is still possible even if pure tragedy is not. We can achieve the tragic out of comedy. We can bring it forth as a frightening moment, as an abyss that opens suddenly; indeed, many of Shakespeare's tragedies are already really comedies out of which the tragic arises."  

This all came drifting back as I walked out of the theater after watching Tina Fey in Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

Here's how one reviewer, Matt Donato (wegotthiscovered.com) puts it, "As a legless veteran (Evan Jonigkeit) tells Baker, all you can do is “embrace the suck, and move the fuck on.” This very notion is what Fey does a splendid job wrestling with for WTF‘s entirety, ensuring that Baker isn’t just some sassy, rookie-phenom reporter who takes the world by storm. Fey establishes depth, and evolves in the most hopeless of locations.

Donato captures the feeling that filled my head and heart as I left the theater. This is no small comedy, but a comedy that lives up to Camus and Sartre, facing man's (and woman's) existence and its absurdities and triumphs. Tina Fey must have had a hand in the writing here, it is laced with her wry wit and observations on life amid a very real tragicomedy.  WTF, go see it, see what you think it's all about.

Have I Seen This Somewhere Before?

Can I live a life of no regrets

Not overcome by old lost bets

Can I spend my days in the here and now

Living out each day with just this vow

These next four hours are all I've got, 

so I'll live them through the best way I know

Then turn them loose, the entire lot, 

keep what works, let the others go

Spending the time in a short burst

Keeping the.best, and dumping the worst. 

Undecided, there's a hitch

No need to sort out which is which

They'll all go with me to the ditch

Unless they all drift out to sea

Due to loss of memory

Metaphors, the Chi of Language

Recently, I have been spending a good deal of time with metaphors.  Figurative language (metaphors, similes and analogies, for the most part) makes reading and hearing much more interesting and provides depth and breadth that mere prose will never have.  Here's an example, as illustrated by the author of a book I picked up recently on figurative language.  He says you can make the same point in two different ways--first, using ordinary prose, you can state your message simply and directly as follows:

A committee is a questionable mechanism for making decisions or solving problems.

Using figurative language, the same point can be expressed as below:

A committee is a cul-de-sac down which ideas are lured and then quietly strangled.

The latter approach, using figurative language, in this case a metaphor, says so much more, elevating the point in a very memorable way.

I've found I have to approach this from three different directions to pull it all together, so bear with me for a bit.  First, we have to crack open the door of brain research just a bit.  Opening it wide would take forever, which is why this little journey of mine has taken so long, and kept me blocked for weeks.  How can you explain the marvel of speech, which man alone has?

It's amazing how quickly a child picks up language and puts it to use.  Then we add in figurative language (which can make talking to toddlers totally transforming).  Before they get the hang of literal speech completely (if that can ever be said to happen completely), we start in with these toddlers with figurative speech.  We don't literally mean what we say--"all hands on deck" means more than just sending up the hands and leaving behind the bodies, after all, and "stop it" doesn't really mean to become perfectly still.  Soon we are substituting parts for the whole, and saying "walk this way," when we might mean to follow us, and not to walk on our tiptoes or all bent over.

(Oh, I can't help myself, here's a timely one:

Politicians are like diapers,

They should be changed frequently— 

And for the same reason.

                                                -ROBIN WILLIAMS)

But there is an even more difficult thing that most humans learn early, and that is to feel another's pain when we see them experience it.  Seeing a person fall will often cause us to feel pain and/or anguish just watching, without falling ourselves.  It turns out the brain doubles up and uses the same part of the brain to process our own pain and that we see another experience.  The anterior cingulate evaluates both the direct experience of our own pain and that which we feel when others experience pain;we see a child fall down.

Neuroscientists have established experimentally that the human brain links the real and the metaphorical as well.  Test subjects who have held a cup of hot coffee are more likely to rate a person they encounter moments later in a story as having a warmer personality than do subjects who hold a cup of iced coffee in their hands; they will subsequently rate the person in the same story as having a cold and aloof personality.  Even an experimental subject handed a resume on a heavier clipboard will perceive the candidate as "more serious" than one represented in a resume attached to a lighter clipboard.  It seems the human brain readily confuses reality and literalness with metaphor and symbol.  Is it because of this tendency of the human brain to assign "double duty: to some of its parts?

Now let's take a look at the effect of context on this metaphorical capacity that we have.  It appears that metaphors we drop into our speech are often influenced by one or more of the following contexts: the speaker (or writer), the person addressed and the subject matter being written about.  Almost unconsciously the athletes among us insert metaphors that use expressions unique to the sport in which they engage quite ofter.  Baseball players will bat around an idea, swimmers will float a possible solution to the members of a group, be they swimmers or not.  Writing a headline for a sports story?  You are more likely to say the Broncos rode all over the Panthers than to simply say the Broncos defeated the Panthers.

(Uh, Oh, here I go again, politics is just on my mind these days, you know?  I live in South Carolina, so we just finished our primary season yesterday.  When your primary season arrives, remember this one:

Washington is to lying as Wisconsin is to cheese.

                                                -DENNIS MILLER)

We naturally do these things to make our speech more meaningful, to grasp and hold the attention of our audience, to convey s deeper or more complex meaning.  Prosaic speech that merely recites the facts literally will often lose its audience more quickly than speech that contains this living, changing kind of speech that can be felt or understood on multiple levels.  You make the choice when you speak or write.  Because--

Life's like a taxi ride, the meter keeps on ticking, whether you're getting anywhere, or just standing still.  

Our brains it seems, are made to metaphor.  Our brains naturally seem to allow us to relate to metaphors, similes and the like.  As precise as the brain can be sometimes, it can be guilty of approximating much of the time.  Metaphors are but one example.  But this double-use of the brain, and the easy way that our context provides us the material from which to make the metaphors are there for everybody.  So why do some of us use this sort of form to broaden the meaning of their speech while others do not?

(Here it comes again....  Football season, like South Carolina's primary season is finally over, but this one feels pretty timely:

Being in Politics is like being a football coach.

You must be smart enough to understand the game,

And dumb enough to think it’s important.

                                                -EUGENE MCCARTHY)

Are those who are not given to metaphor missing something?  Are they just more literal about life? Do they lack imagination?  Maybe those that come up with metaphors and analogies are different in some way.  

Maybe this is some strange form of chi that affects only some of us?  Chi is energy, life-force.  It is usually cultivated by a discipline like yoga, tai chi, Qigong.  mental focus and breathing

I like the latter explanation better,  It seems that the ability to create and comprehend metaphors greatly enhances understanding.  Richer language, insightful comparisons, and the blessed relief of humor come to mind.  Does chi behave this way?

I started digging into the background of Chi in Eastern thought, and it was not even aa half an hour later that I unearthed this little gem: "Studying this literature, we realize that the idea of relating chi and breath is as old as time itself.  In Sanskrit, prana (or chi) means "ultimate energy"and when used in context with living organisms, it is recognized as the 'vital animating force'  in living things.  Ever since that time, practitioners have believed that it was necessary to breathe to acquire this force, so the ultimate relationship between the act of breathing and staying alive and well was established."  Really?  This idea is as old as time itself--breathing and staying alive are related?  

Thankfully, I won't go on here to allow you to see just how little I have learned about Chi, but I do think the metaphor of figurative language as the Chi of language.  Think about it, then go take a walk and breathe!

Some Truth About Curmudgeonism

I am now at an age where reforming my actions and words so that I no longer utter anything but the truth, will cause me to be labeled a curmudgeon.  If a glass is half-empty and I describe it as such, I am being negative.  If it started out full, and now half of it is gone, that is half-empty!  I agree that if it began half-full, and added enough water, it would be full.  If it began half full and appeared to be adding water, I would acknowledge when it was halfway there, I would say it is half-full.  If it starts out half-empty and the rest is poured out, is it not empty?  If it is heading in one direction or the other, why not offer the clue as to what you see going on—that glass is emptying, and it’s halfway there.  Hmmm, there seems little doubt that so some, I am becoming a curmudgeon (defined, with the help of my friends at Google as“a person, especially an old man, who is easily annoyed or angered and who often complains").  

Given the obvious sexism that allows curmudgeon to be labeled as a male in most definitions, I now prefer the term disambiguationist—one who simply makes things clearer by removing ambiguity (perhaps even telling the truth).

With all that said, I want to acknowledge something, politicians are liars—we all have seen this.  So, when one politician accuses another of lying, why is that a noteworthy comment?  They all lie.  But what about lying about one’s opponent, is that less than acceptable?  Is the other person’s integrity (or lack thereof) some sort of sacred ground?  Yes, he lied.  So did the guy who accused him of lying.  Is there a ranking of lies that would guide us toward the better person for the job?  A first-degree liar would be preferred over a second-degree one?  Looking past that little swamp of idealistic illusion, is lying ok if the one lying is my guy?  I don’t mind a liar, as long as he’s on my side?  Hence, whoever is elected would become my kind of person, a liar who is lying for me.  He’s lying about the ever-increasing national debt.  But, I can have this benefit or avoid this unfavorable outcome if I go along with the lie.  Oh my, the election season, which grows longer each time around, brings out the curmudgeon in me, and that’s the truth.

OK, OK, I Do Have A Valentine

Here’s to Sheila, my lovely wife

Who, since agreeing to be my Mrs.

Has had to live a wandering life

And live in strange places like this is.

In truth, I do not really deserve

The love of this special girl

I know not what gave me the nerve

To ask her to marry, but she gave it a whirl

Still on Valentine's Day not a present or

Card,

Though God only knows she has worked very hard.

Alas, she's put in the hours

But still must get her own flowers.