OMOC

Hiatus

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 13:40:00 +0000


Room for one more?

Summer hiatus, and time to get out from under a bit of the backlog. School is out for now, and it seems that with less to do, there's more to do. Tasks fill up whatever time we devote to them. So it will be good to be back on campus in three weeks, focused almost exclusively on that task, working toward a graduation date that begins to appear on the not so distant horizon. As I slog across campus, I'll not be quite so burdened as the poor schlemiels above in their third-world version of the Mayflower moving van. Indeed, as classes become higher in number, the load of books, tablets and assorted academic detritus gets lighter. Almost as if the load has been or is being transferred into my nearly overloaded brain. Here's hoping there are no flat tires in my future, because there is no spare; I checked.

Ah, Summer on Campus--OMOC Ch. 5

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 22:33:00 +0000

An Enlightening View

Post is from Chapter 5 Old Man On Campus.

I park the car, (with none of the usual shark-parking required at other times), adjust my backpack and tromp toward the Quad. It’s the first time I’ve attended a Summer session, so I don’t know what to expect, other than a more intense, closely compacted class experience. Ten weeks shoved into five weeks ought to be an interesting exercise in learning, if not logistical necessity. I step onto the Quad and revel in the warm breeze blowing across the green space. The majestic library edifice anchors the west end, its half-million books a veritable treasure of knowledge. The noble old chimes peal the half hour, tones evocative of storied halls and ivied walls, the trappings of intellectual pursuit. Mature trees shade the sward, lending a true sense of higher purpose. All in all an enlightening view. I drink it all in, feeling more erudite with every step.
I should mention the naked girls. Okay, not fully nude, but bare enough in their sunscreen-slathered sprawl that these youngsters are about eight colorfast cotton stitches away from an arrest for public indecency. There aren’t many of them, but the damsels I see on the grassy realm of the Quad lay like unsprung traps for concupiscent, prowling young males. One might call these girls mister-bait were the attribute not so whimsically close to a certain venereal reference. They sun themselves of an afternoon atop the fresh grass, in their pre-cancerous repose, almost reading Chaucer, Kafka or perhaps Moliere. Some of their books are even open. But they’re not fooling anyone except possibly themselves; these young, nearly naked women are enjoying the way we men wander off the footpath while eyeing them, our furtive glance cast to one side or the other, to this or that squirrel that’s far more interesting with its prized apple scrap, or look at that, a four-leaf clover and isn’t that amazing? Are these lasses alarmed that we look at their comely young bodies, even those of us who could be their grandfathers? Of course not. Do they make an effort to hide their emerging sexuality and burgeoning femaleness? Not a chance. Would they be disappointed if we did stare at the squirrels instead? You bet your acorns.
Case in point. I’m halfway across the Quad, heading to the English Department where people actually open and read Moliere, when I spot her. Twenty-years-old, tops, auburn hair to her shoulders and I assume everywhere else, she’s three squirrels away, laying on her back, soaking in every UV ray and leering male eyeball she can capture on this sunny noontime. Even her posture is provocative; if it were January I’d think she was making a snow angel. Her (almost) two-piece bikini is mostly not there, but what is there consists of straps, the odd shoelace (no aglet), and a bandaid. The outfit, if you can call it that, is nearly her birthday suit with the cutest little vest you ever saw. She sees me, the old pervert, ogling her instead of the squirrels, and she grins and half rises. Teeth flash, hair flicks, head lolls. She knows she’s beautiful, and she understands that I know it, too. And here’s the part she won’t understand until she’s had her little heart broken by men who run fast enough that she catches them. Certain men like me, that is to say men who are durably married and intending to stay that way, see several things in her come-with-me behavior. We see the female form in all its curv-ed, captivating perfection; we see the sexual allure that she has down pat; and we see a future for her filled with real life in all its messy contradictions. I smile back, hike my backpack higher onto my shoulder and schlep on. Some things never change, and young women always, even on a college campus--especially there--will always undress as far as the law allows to lure the male of the species. Many of them are indeed on campus in pursuit of the coveted MrS degree. Some things never change. On to class I go.

Prop 8 Unconstitutional

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 22:45:00 +0000

Proposition 8 & The Ash Bin of History

Judge Vaugh Walker has ruled that California's Proposition 8 violates the Constitution's due process and equal protection clauses while failing "to advance any rational basis in singling out gay men and lesbians for denial of a marriage license."
The arc of history bends slowly, but it always bends toward justice and equality. When this ruling holds up in the Supreme Court this nation will be stronger, better, closer to its ideals and closer also to full equality under the law. And equality is a good thing.

Essay

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 10:36:00 +0000

Final Essay E-268

The requirement is to write a personal essay. The piece must be between 6 and 18 pages long, and since the class is creative non-fiction, it must be, well, non-fiction. It must, in other words, be mostly true. I've decided to write an essay about a subject that for one reason or another makes people uncomfortable. Religion? Sex? Hemorrhoids? Nope, I'm writing about how I love my wife. And yes, it's non-fiction.

What is it about a spouse proclaiming their affection and love for their mate in public that makes people wince? Is it something to do with propriety? A throwback to our Puritan roots, those hoary values that have caused us no end of grief, anxiety and guilt in this culture? Does this fall under the rubric of acronym--TMI (Too Much Information), PDA (Public Displays of Affection), GAR (Get A Room)? Are we as a society this emotionally constipated that we can't even talk about our love for the person we sleep with (almost) every night? If true, this is sad beyond measure.

If it is, indeed, true it seemed to me a reasonable topic for an essay in a creative nonfiction writing class. I've already started the piece. In deference to social sensibilities I've placed the disclaimers first, not wishing to turn readers away within the first paragraph. The essay is not about our cutesy rituals, the icky-poo daily tics and touchy-feelies of some brand new, and some not so brand new marriages. It is not about our sex lives, relax. It's not about how we fixed our busted, clunky, run-of-the-mill poor excuse for a matrimonial match, a how-to manual for your own inert marriage. It isn't about how we overcome great obstacles, move mountains to be together, proclaim our undying love and affection from the top of the Empire State Building either. None of that. The essay is simply about how my wife and I came to a very early understanding that our marriage is truly sacred to us, completely removed from all the conventional, too often commercial aspects of marriage. We have a bond that fulfills our every need, not using all the devices noted above--the shouts from atop tall buildings in large cities etc.--but almost despite all that outward foo-farah. We even have a designation for what we believe is the one, vital, indispensable ingredient to a life together as mates: we are simply best friends.

The word essay derives from the French essai, to try, to make an attempt. My essay on spousal love is not definitive; it is an attempt to tell our story of how marriage works for us. Everyone needs their own essay.

Freewriting

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 00:48:00 +0000


Freewrite--An Exercise in creativity, or...

It's an exercise in creativity, certainly, but much more than that. English 268 is set up as a creative non-fiction class, and it is every bit of that. The emphasis is on the creative part. Most every day there's a freewriting event. We're required to put the pen on paper, and not lift it off, scribbling whatever free association words, ideas, thoughts, wacky concepts and ephemera come to mind--no thinking; just writing, writing, writing. It sounds crazy, useless, mostly a way for the teacher to take a break in the middle of a two-hour class. But the exercise has an amazing ability to dislodge jammed up concepts, constipation of the brain and generally viscous thoughts that are otherwise begging to be born. Some of the stuff is even usable! Try it sometime: take a prompt, let's say "I'm afraid to..." and go to town. Just scribble and write and jot and scratch until your hand is numb. You might be amazed at the direction and result you come up with.
In the picture above, one of my get-rich quick products is shown. It was a diary of sorts, an E-Book designed with the basic freewriting concept in mind. Take one of the diaries--they were called Burn The Baggage--open to the day in question, such #29 which would be today, and read the prompt. Then write down all the scary, angry, fearful, useless, restricting thoughts you have about that prompt, and get it out of your system. The idea was to do this for thirty days, then burn the results, burn the baggage that keeps you trapped in place and won't let you create what it is you're capable of creating. Burn the negative to end up with the positive. Just don't burn your homework.

Traveling Light

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 22:20:00 +0000

Traveling Light is...

Ease and comfort are very good things. It's gratifying to live in a place where warmth, safety, comfort and convenience are a given. But it's equally good to know our footprint is as small as possible on a fragile planet, and maybe getting smaller. There's a growing realization in the world that we have not been sufficiently cautious with our resources or environment. As I wander the campus I see indications everywhere of new and useful ways we conserve, re-use and cut down on disposable items, from paper products in classrooms, to excessive maintenance of buildings and grounds, to simple things like recycling of otherwise disposable items. The trend is hopeful: more and more teachers are using on-line resources, new buildings are much more efficient and even toilets are more environmentally friendly. The best part of this is that we seem to be more aware of the need to address these issues, and there seems to be more political will to move forward on them. Let's hope we continue the trend, and our children and grandchildren will thank us for giving them the best gift possible.

Summer '10

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 10:02:00 +0000

Summer?

Welcome to Summer term 2010, and English 268, creative non-fiction. The picture doesn't look much like Summer, but that's the idea. Keats spoke about the concept of negative capability: It's being able to hold two contradictory ideas in our heads at the same time and still have the ability to function. I like to think of it as the willing suspension of belief. If we can entertain two seemingly opposing thoughts, and have them bounce around and be perfectly content interacting with each other, for long periods of time, then we're on the way to negative capability. Here's an example of how this could work in reality as opposed to fiction. As I write this, a good friend is visiting her daughter at school in New Zealand. Here in Columbus yesterday the high temperature reached about 85 degrees F. Where Barbara is, the high was 40 degrees F. give or take. Not exactly snowy and blizzarding like the picture above, but not shirtsleeves weather either. So the two opposing ideas concept isn't so difficult if we expand our vision just a bit.

Summer term is going to be like that; I look forward to writing as much as I can in a very short time, bypassing my usual requirement to tweak, rewrite, edit, rephrase and redo any and all manuscripts. Rewriting has always been a necessity, but it appears my system, if you can call it that, may be considered a luxury in this class. English 268 started yesterday. Our first assignment was a free write lasting nearly ten minutes. One parcel of some value emanating from that exercise was the realization that writing in such a way drives out some of the fear of failing to write any other way, or in patching words together in a way that makes sense to me. One of the main fears in life, certainly for a writer, is that the product makes no sense. John Ciardi mentioned this fear concerning his poetic works. He said his fear was that he'd left part of the poem in his head. If we get away leaving even a part of the story in our heads, or still in the pen, then we've not fully succeeded. So perhaps the free write is always the way to go, at least at first. Then, after a bit of incautious scrambling and/or parsing of the words and meanings and expressions, we put the work out there fully and forlornly half-dressed, and see who gets it? Stay tuned. It will be an interesting Summer.

Finals week

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 22:24:00 +0000

Why Be Normal?

Finals week on campus, once again. It's been quite the term: more than a dozen entries in the student paper, lots of new stuff--like the student union which opened at the beginning of the term, a very productive and informative meeting with folks at the creative writing school and other signposts along the way to a goal I've dreamed of for 30 years. I am firmly entrenched in the school, the curriculum and the method. I am well on my way to the degree that eluded me way back in the twentieth century. The fellow you see above is acting like a kid again, being basically abnormal because it felt good, and hey, if other students can act like this, why not me? I've seen way weirder stuff, things that make my hat look pretty lame in comparison. Besides, it was a great hat. It was manufactured on the spot by a balloon expert who was an alum back in '72, about the time I would have graduated had it not been for the fact that the balloon went up, and I traded my college hat for a helmet and all that boring, military history stuff. It's good to be back, especially considering the fact that I can wear such hats and no one thinks it's silly. Why be normal? You see what it got me back in '69? Well, there you go.

Smart Kids

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Fri, 28 May 2010 14:19:00 +0000

The Winning Team

2010 FEH At St. John Arena

(With 'Robot')

One of the unintended pleasures of returning to school after all these years is the opportunity to spend time with some really bright kids. As much as I've disparaged certain classmates in these pages, my experience is that, as Garrison Keillor is fond of saying, these kids are, by and large, above average. And, though a few of them are a bit woebegone at times, aren't we all? Some of them are bright as a new nickel, and not the least bit shy about showing it off.

Take Jimmy, if you can. He's a gangly, effervescent, walking atomic pile in speech, mannerisms and demeanor. Look up scary bright in your search engine, and Jimmy's name will likely pop up. I've concluded that he is skinny and somewhat frail looking, because taking time to eat would mean wasting time better spent studying quantum neutron nano-physics, or perhaps it was just pre-cosmological calculus he mentioned, my hearing isn't what once was.

In either case, Jimmy and his mentally-precocious pals want to change the world. If my doubts extend to such things as Bush V Gore 2000, or the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa, they do not extend to this Jimmy and his colleagues' ability to alter the arc of this sorry planet that they're about to inherit. Jimmy and his team of pre-engineers are a group of about 200 young people--first-years all, mind you--at the college's annual robot competition. One of them told me that they "basically got to build toys for six month." Be that as it may, there's nothing childlike about what they built. These robots of theirs had to not only fit certain critical dimensions, they had to perform several tasks autonomously, from coding installed inside their teeny 20 Kb brain by a kid with a lot more Kb than that, and adding more all the time.

The show took place on the floor of the old basketball arena. Appropriately, the robot competition--there were 78 of the little contraptions--was tracked and scored like the sweet sixteen of basketball. When the G-5 team, Jimmy et. al., wound up in the final four, I edged closer to my seat, and held my breath for the two minutes allotted for the little machine to do its job on the circuit. And, like Short Circuit, the movie, 'Robot,' as the team named it--I told you they were smart--performed just as coded, zipping along doing its appointed chores, tracking the lines, following its internal logic till it backed into its tiny stall with one last whir and giggle, and won first prize! The energy was everywhere. As you can see from the picture, the G-5 team, plus 'Robot,' had worked to perfection. Smart kids. It's a pleasure to know them.

Fast company

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Tue, 18 May 2010 00:38:00 +0000

Dr. Gee & The OMOC 5/17/10

There are a few perks involved in returning to school at my age. One of them is the realization that certain activities, opportunities and events are just there to indulge and have fun with. The photo is of yours truly with the president of Ohio State, Dr. E. Gordon Gee. The event was a reception at the new student Union for whichever arts and sciences students wanted to drop by, grab a slice of free pizza and meet the prez. Hey, why not? One thing about going back to school, and immersing oneself in the atmosphere of academia is feeling the energy, the positive sensation of moving forward toward a goal, and being surrounded by people who not only share that momentum, but want you to succeed right along with them. There are certainly people on this campus who have a dim view of the way things are run, the political predilections of the administration, the seeming disregard for common sense approaches to matters which appear to be achingly simple. There will always be those people; I am not one of them. The more I study and allow myself to be exposed to the inner workings of things--whether a campus newspaper, a quasi-political organization or a massive educational edifice like Ohio State--the more I realize there are no simple answers. Hell, there aren't even simple questions.

I'm grateful for the chance to meet the people who call the shots, and to ask questions that they actually take time to answer, and to hear from them what intricacies are involved in running a show like OSU. Is it a bit obsequious on my part? Perhaps, but I'm convinced that the people in high places, regardless of which high places we're discussing, are for the most part capable, well-intentioned and conscientious when it's time to decide things that have an impact on all of us. It's good to know they're also approachable, and generally good people. Plus, the pizza was free. Life is good.

Musings

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Sun, 16 May 2010 23:56:00 +0000

Musings

Some random thoughts near the end of the term. Once again it's been an amazing journey, what with steers loose on the ag campus, (go figure), fascinating feedback to various newspaper articles I've written about this and that, interesting classes about more this and that and, in general, a very satisfying quarter. Too much work, but satisfying nonetheless. And, once again, it's awfully good to know that the old brain still has a bit of spark left in it, that all that supposedly lethal white, middle-class, hetero, Christian, suburban mediocrity hasn't completely killed what curiosity and skepticism I've tried my damndest to nurture all these years. It's still there; in fact, it's if anything stronger than ever. The older I get, the feistier I get, just ask my wife. I guess that's one of the unwritten benefits of education, at any level, the demand to accept nothing at face value, and to keep asking why, why why ad nauseam. If I had to settle for any one conclusion at this late date, it would be this: why in bloody hell can't we just do what we say we will, or at least say we won't do something and mean it? Do we humans of necessity need to indulge our hypocrisy at every turn? What ever happened to good, old-fashioned 'NO,' I'm not going to do that--be deferential to whites/blacks/women/latinos etc., or 'NO,' I don't believe ________(fill in the blank). It is always better to say it up front, than to say what it is we really never meant. Does that make sense?

Musings, that's all. It's one way we convince ourselves we're still alive.

More light than heat

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Tue, 04 May 2010 10:10:00 +0000

Incandescence

One of the primary reasons we try to educate ourselves, when you get right down to it, is to be more efficient. Since the invention of the light bulb, for example, we've made it more efficient, brighter, cooler, more powerful, with less heat and more light. It's an apt metaphor for the human brain as well. The longer we wallow in ignorance about any topic, be it religion Vs spirituality; sexual preference Vs gender orientation; political expediency Vs traditional, conservative, fear-driven reaction, we, too, expend more heat than light. This is where education comes in, the active pursuit of enLIGHTenment, the restless need to know what is true, or at least what passes for truth in a transitional world. There's a reason cartoon balloons use light bulbs to indicate ideas, awakenings, understanding. "Let there be light," it says in Genesis. This is not just the warm, illuminating rays from the sun that allow us to read those cartoons, or do the crossword. That light is more efficiency inside our brains, the opening of doors revealing vistas unimagined in the darkest corners. They are, finally, the rays that show us there's much more work to be done, more efficiency to be sought.
In my own attempt to educate myself, returning to school after many years, I've come to believe that people differ in two basic ways: There are those who prefer sunrise, with its promise of the new, and the fresh and the different; there are those who prefer sunset, with its fading rays, and settled reality, and dimming chance of disturbing revelation to disrupt that which is tenaciously held.
Incandescence is slowly giving way to florescence, the more efficient use of power to produce light. From the French word for flower, or blossom, florescence is the sunrise, the acceptance of new possibility every new dawn.

Come to the Faire

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Sun, 02 May 2010 01:22:00 +0000

Long live the King!

Come to the Faire--May 1 on the Oval a chessboard was used to determine the Monarch of this year's Medieval & Renaissance Performers' Guild Faire, the 36th so far. A good time was had by all, with drinking contests, the normal carousing, jousting, madrigal feasting and lively swordplay as the annual Faire came to a satisfying conclusion. Several vendors offered everything from magic wands to period dress, to turkey legs (there's a difference?) The high point of the day, though, was the human chessboard with its array of feisty combatants, all in period dress, hefting swords and truncheons in bold attempts to gain the crown. All very fusty and quite romantic in a parsley sage rosemary & thyme sort of way. I expected to see Launcelot & Guinevere arrive in a chivalric rush at any moment.

The weather finally cooperated, proceeding went on apace, and at last performers chanted home one and all, with a joyous rendition of A Health to the Company: Till next year me hearties...

So here's a health to the company

And one to my lass

Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass

Let us drink and be merry all grief to refrain

For we may and might never all meet here again...

Indeed. Congratulations for a Faire well done.

The Challenge of Instruction

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 12:37:00 +0000

Healthy Skepticism & Vigorous Debate

The real challenge of instruction, and of any educational endeavor, is deciding how to present information as truth, versus the necessity of promoting healthy inquiry, or even skepticism. Despite the flood of information available to us, a lot of what we believe simply isn't true. The joke is that 23% of Italians still believe Columbus' landing was faked. Apocryphal perhaps, but uncomfortably close to some kind of true commentary about the world we live in.

The subject comes up frequently these days, partly because we're assaulted with data from every direction. It's difficult to discern what's worth our time and attention, and what's chaff and chimera. We have everything from RSS feeds, to listserves, to popups, to billboards of every description and style. It's like a national shouting match.

Which is perhaps the best reason of all to nurture a healthy skepticism about whatever we hear and decide to give our attention to. One truly important consideration is this: What we focus on expands. That sounds a bit airey-fairey, but think about it. We spend more time on that which holds some vital interest for us personally. The number of fans at a curling match proves this--although curling fans are devoted, if somewhat cliquish. The point is, that whatever we give our mental and physical energies to is what we learn more about. And we learn better about it, too.

So the choice is simple. Understand that it is a choice, that what data stream we tap into is up to us, and make our decisions based on whether or not what we're being served makes sense. And don't be afraid to question it, whatever obvious 'truth' it may contain.

Start the Parade

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 00:33:00 +0000

Bring them Home--and Start the Parade

From a Lantern Editorial 5/2/10:
“We should just declare victory and get out.” Those are not recent words; the quote is from Sen. George Aiken of South Carolina. The year was 1966. The senator was advising President Lyndon Johnson about his options in Vietnam. And by the way, Senator Aiken was a Republican.

We ought to take Aiken’s advice in Iraq. The way is clear. The Iraqi people are as close as they’re going to get to tending to their own affairs, whether democracy, theocracy, oligarchy, anarchy or whatever form of social governance they choose. It is time to recognize that the ball is in their court, and whichever way they hit it--even into the net--we’re declaring that they’ve won. And good for them.

Then we should bring our troops home, and make sure we do it right. We should take the same “Mission Accomplished” banner that ‘W’ used in his ludicrous photo op aboard the Abe Lincoln seven (yes, seven) years ago next week, and hang it across Pennsylvania Avenue.

Here’s why. When over 200,000 American soldiers came home from Vietnam all those years ago, myself included, we snuck back into this country one by one, separated from our colleagues: A solitary Sergeant at a train station; a lone Marine crossing an airport concourse; a single Sailor hefting his seabag into a taxi, all alone.

The separation wasn’t just physical but spiritual. There was a wall of shame we felt at having lost something no other generation of American troopers had: We’d lost a war.

There were no banners then. No signs in airports. No pats on the back from grateful citizens in any kind of organized way. Oh, there were relieved parents, greetings from neighbors and friends with welcome back messages, but no mentions of Vietnam and its descent into chaos.

And no parades. Americans love parades. We hold parades on red letter occasions, saint’s days, national days of recognition, and when the troops come home. There were no parades for Vietnam vets.

We should pull those men and women out of Iraq, bring them home en masse, ply them with awards for a job well done--because it is a job superbly done. Then we should hang that banner across Pennsylvania Avenue, and march them division by proud division under it.

We should invite everyone to come, including those who got us into the Iraq war, however misinformed and misguided they were, and those who opposed it, too. We should make it a national day of celebration--of the pride we feel at those men and women and the job they’ve done, of the families at home who supported them, even of the Iraqis who must recognize the opportunity they’ve been given.

There will be many veterans of Iraq who will need more than discharge papers, awards, and a plane ticket home. Many will need years of counseling and help. A parade is not a panacea. But the public recognition it represents can help us all share some closure to this long national nightmare. Bring them home from Iraq, and start the parade.

Nuance

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 13:38:00 +0000

Educational Nuance

Dig deeper--It's worth it

This post is from chapter 4 of the memoir.
    The Star Spangled (Mangled) Banner has a foreign melody? Who knew? It’s true. Our beloved National Anthem, that lilting, pretty much unsingable tune that burst forth from the pen, if not the throat, of Francis Scott Key that morning in 1814 has for its melody an alien source. And a British one at that! Imagine the confusion on the part of our English cousins the first time they heard us singing, okay mumbling, our national song at some early rounders game, or early fourth of July barbecue. They would not have attached a meaning to the words. “Rockets’ red glare, Bombs bursting in air etc. But they sure as shootin’ would have recognized the music. It was ‘borrowed,’ bar for bar, by Mr. Key as he watched the smoke clear from Fort McHenry, and saw that indeed ‘Our flag was still there.’ Borrowed, that is, from an old world tune titled Anacreon, which soulful piece was used by a society of revelers to celebrate song and, what else, wine!
    Why does any of this confusion matter in an old patriot’s memoir about going back to college? Because one thing I’ve found as I attempt to clear my own morning smoke, and to clear away debris and cobwebs gathered over a lifetime, is just how much smoke and fog has been created in my otherwise reasonably well educated brain. I’ve been led to believe a lot of crap. And I’m finding that one of the biggest challenges to my latest assault on the educational edifice is all the un-learning I have to do.
    That’s not quite fair; I have learned a lot, it’s true. But a lot of what I’ve been taught has been an itsy-bitsy way toward the whole, a somewhat fractional education. I’ve not been exposed to the big picture, the whole enchilada, the widescreen view. And it’s time, after fifty odd years, that I take the opportunity to yes, educate myself about a lot of things. So I take responsibility for my own shortcomings. Such as those concerning our history, for example.
    I realize there isn’t a lot of time to teach kids in elementary school the nuances. On balance, I believe American teachers do a pretty good job with the tools they have. And far be it from me to critique a system I know so little about, having dabbled around the edges of it, admittedly. Just because I’m a product of that system doesn’t mean I understand it. And maybe that’s a problem? Maybe kids aren’t given the chance to see and understand the shortcomings of their own education? Maybe they need to be told that what they’re being spoon-fed every day may or may not be absolute, verifiable, rock-solid true?

William Bradford-John Morton: Creative Tension in the Colonies.

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 13:29:00 +0000

Creative tension is a good thing!

English 290 Blog entry 4/6/10

The remarkable message taken from the William Bradford & John Morton papers, is how similar are the issues discussed with today’s headlines: We’re still ambivalent about the value of diversity in our culture, and the effects of immigration; we persist in our exceptionalism, assuming that everyone else wants to be like us; our understanding of church/state separation is still fuzzy at best. An example of the last item is the polarization that exists concerning civil marriage equality for LGBT citizens.     Something else a close reading of the documents reveals: Tensions did exist between individuals based on their various beliefs and ideologies, and this fervor lacked a large institutional presence to stifle it. In Europe, state and church acted in tandem to maintain social cohesion, and to dampen heretical ideas and practices. Indeed, that suppressive power is what propelled the colonists across the ocean. In the New World there was no such concentrated power, so people were free to think and act as they believed. The other outcome of the European model of crowd control was to perpetuate a communal spirit. With the Protestant Reformation, that sense was already crumbling. In the New World it collapsed altogether, and, due partly to the hardship required to survive here, the concept of the individual emerged.
    Add the two ingredients, tension created by the clash of ideas, and the lack of a restraining system for it, plus the emergence of the concept of the individual, and we see the genesis of our remarkable--we might even say exceptional--system of self-government, including the official separation of the two elements that stifled competing ideas and methods. In less than 150 years this separation of church and state was codified in our Constitution. Ironic proof of the success of this system is the fact that, in America today, there are more churches, with more branches and offshoots than anywhere in the world.

DADT

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Sat, 03 Apr 2010 00:43:00 +0000

Don't ask don't tell. One of the more ridiculous legal endeavors in history, an official codification of our modern schizophrenic attitude about the presence of LGBT people in our midst, a congressional statute that says, in effect, don't be who you are, and we'll pretend to look the other way. It's kind of like that game we played as kids, where someone counted to six, or twelve, or twenty-four while everyone else hid behind a tree. Or, better yet, like the old, archaic Soviet system wherein people said they pretended to work and the government pretended to pay them.
The bottom line is, that DADT is itself an archaic, embarrassing failure as a policy in our military, and everyone from the top brass, to congressional leaders know it. The dilemma we find ourselves in now is, that as these cases are dismissed, and LGBT people are freed to serve their country openly, those who were summarily dismissed in years past may well have a legitimate case for reinstatement in the military, or compensation. And rightly so, I might add. Future reparations scenarios ought to be a fundamental part of any such arbitrary and misguided legal venture. Let's be see just how courageous our military leadership is; let's see them call for the cancellation of this flawed, ridiculous policy. Let's see them display some real leadership.

Coming Soon--A New Kind of Travel Document

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 16:19:00 +0000

Travelogue

Coming soon--A new kind of travel document. This may look like a book. In fact it is, an e-book currently, but soon to be published as a real hold it in your hand kind of book that we intend to pass around to those interested in taking a bold new journey, one that requires packing a few things you never expected to need, and also to unpack things no one needs, and likely never did--like a set of assumptions, a parcel of beliefs, and perhaps a fresh look at one of the most fulfilling destinations available to anyone--Marriage, and its unique status in modern society. This travelogue may require you to discard your old, well-worn baggage, and replace it with a new, sturdier, nearly tamper-proof matching set that will itself distinguish you as a seasoned, knowledgeable traveler.

The book is titled 1138 Reasons Why Marriage=Everyone. Why the number? You'll have to ask your travel agent, or the author. Here's a hint: If you're already married, you already have this number of ------, so don't worry. If you're not yet married, the number represents a reason marriage is so important in modern life, and why it must be made available to everyone. The book will be here soon, copies sold on Amazon, and through the author (that's me) for the asking. Price should be in the $10.00 range, with proceeds going to the struggle for equal marriage rights across the land, the great country we all travel every day.

Departing Winter

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 00:54:00 +0000

Winter Begins to Fade

At last, Winter begins to dissipate, and Spring flowers take the place of frosty branch and bough. And today we have a new beginning as well in our nation's approach to those left out in the cold without proper health care insurance. Thanks to President Barack Obama, and courageous Democrats, who have put the needs of the American people first, we progress to a new era, an age when everyone has access to affordable, decent, useful, meaningful health insurance. No more will any American be left out in the wintertime chill simply because they lack the financial wherewithal to see a doctor when they're ill, or have to bear chronic pain and suffering when a simple clinic visit may alleviate that pain. It's a new Spring in America, a new age when those who choose to divide and conquer to achieve their goals have been defeated...for now.

Next, the disposal of the ill-conceived, ridiculous, massively misguided law--Don't Ask Don't Tell. DADT is a shameful reminder of a hopefully fast-fading anachronism, homophobia, and it must go, sooner than later. By Spring, DADT must be sad, long-discarded part of our history.

From Chapter 1 OMOC

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 14:27:00 +0000

Former Career...

(From Chapter 1 of my memoir--Old Man On Campus.)
There’s a growing body of knowledge about the question of retirement, and how it applies to us boomer types, or does not as appears to be the case. Unlike our parents, who followed the expected pattern of learn-work-reproduce-retire-die, all nicely accomplished with no fuss by age 65 or so, we boomers have added a wrinkle at the end, a second, or third career. When social security became law, in 1935, the average recipient was on the roles for about three years before they checked out, leaving the fund happily solvent. That generation was known for its selfless attitude, after all. Ours? Not so much. Not only have we had far fewer workers per recipient paying into the system, only five, on average, compared to eleven when my dad was working, we have the audacity to stay alive a lot longer, too. Those of us boomers who reach age fifty can expect another 30 years, at least fifteen of them reimbursed by the guv’mint just for our continued breathing. We’re restless, curious, and fearless. For us, the word retire has been changed to rewire. My generation is going to be the so-called geri-actives, and as long as we stay healthy, we have no intention of giving up work. Our ‘golden years’ will be marked by second, and third careers. We’re seeing that retirement isn’t a phase, it’s a process, a winding down by perhaps winding back up in another field. This second adulthood makes perfect sense when you think about it. Just 100 years ago, life expectancy in this country was 47 for males. It’s now almost double that. When I quit flying, I did try to take it easy for a time, to sniff around, check out other things, even considering a semi-retired status as a volunteer. I soon realized that the pace was killing me; I’m just not cut out for a life of ease and relaxation, at least not yet. While my spouse left for work every morning, I stayed behind, in a kind of eternal weekend, sinking lower and lower into a truly painful ‘roleless role,’ as Marc Freedman, author of Encore: Finding Work That Matters in the Second Half of Life¹, calls the status of those who are too young to retire, too old to start over. Freedman writes of the need for “self management” as a requisite for this new second adulthood, and that’s about right. When you think about it, the first half of life--school, marriage, work, career, kids etc.--is all about compulsion, the necessity of climbing the ladder to the beat of someone else’s drum, be it a boss, a career goal of some kind, or a hierarchy of administrative benchmarks. There’s always someone else there to mark our progress, and to keep us in check. The second half of life, on the other hand, is typically characterized not by compulsion, but by choice, the self-imposed demand to focus on what we want our encore career to be. We’re pounding our own drum, often descending the ladder toward something simpler, yet more fulfilling. And everyone knows it’s always harder climbing down, since the path is harder to see. Thus, self-management is a needed skill, and because of its long lack of use, or its lack of development early in life, self-management--of time, money, resources, relationships--may be the toughest part of our journey.
But it’s a journey I began despite all the social cues to do otherwise. I heard from family, friends, former career colleagues how wonderful it must be to relax, lay back, let my spouse take care of me, savor the successful career I’d recently completed. It all sounded good; it wasn’t; I was miserable. The thought of holding down the couch, nestled in my bathrobe at noon, fingering the remote as Regis and Kathy Lee entertained me, was downright terrifying. I had to find something else. Besides, I couldn’t figure out the goddam remote.
¹ ©PublicAffairs Books, June 2007

Marriage Equality

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 21:28:00 +0000

L-O-V-E=L-O-V-E=L-O-V-E=

The picture above is of two people in love. How can we determine the gender of these two gentle, caring people? How do we figure out which one is male, which one female? The one on the left appears to be male, though the lips are somewhat feminine. On the right, the ear seems to belong to a female, or perhaps not. Why is this so difficult? Are we as adults, and reasonably smart, intuitive, alert people pretty good at picking out gender markers, characteristics and profiles? Of course we are. Then why the trouble with this picture? I'm sure those eyebrows belong to a female, right? And the hairline on the right is definitely male, true? Why is this so hard?

And why does it matter? Do lips and eyebrows and ears and hairlines fall in love and share that loving sensation with each other? No. People fall in love, and people share all that love represents, whether it's a whispered affirmation, an eyebrow raised in greeting from across a crowded room, a brush of lips against each others' in the dim half-light of evening, or the bending of an ear to a lover, to capture every sense and nuance of what they tell us.

If we have trouble determining genders and characteristics of two people in love, perhaps it doesn't matter? All that any of us want is to be one of those two people, and to share that kind of love with another person.

Spring 2010

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 23:04:00 +0000

SPRING!!!!!!!!

The picture was taken just outside my window, today, at five pm. It is about 50 degrees F as I write this. Winter isn't over, officially or otherwise, but it's quickly losing its grip on us once again, and soon Spring will take over. Is there something you need to renew or replenish? If so, this is a great time to look into it, to make 2010 the best year ever. Twenty-gazillion daffodils can't be wrong!

DADT Lantern 3/3/10

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 23:33:00 +0000

Repeal DADT Now

Don’t Ask Don’t Tell: Undercutting The Military Honor Code: The Ohio State University Lantern 3/3/2010

The so-called Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy still in force in the U.S. military undercuts a long-standing honor code that has existed in the armed forces of this country for as long as there’s been a military in America. DADT demands that soldiers lie, a direct conflict with a code that demands otherwise, and therefore, contrary to what the provision’s supporters claim, is itself damaging to unit cohesion.
     Modern soldiers are not stupid. They know who they’re serving with, who is gay and straight. And they know the atmosphere of unnecessary tension that DADT promotes by ordering soldiers to lie. The only people being fooled by DADT are those in political circles outside the military still beholden to a few of their homophobic constituents. The troops get it; some politicians do not.
    Don’t Ask Don’t Tell must be repealed. Each year we lose over 400 able bodied, volunteer soldiers, some with critical skills such as Arabic language interpreters, doctors, nurses, computer techs and others who want nothing more than to serve their country, and who hate the constant lie they’re forced to endure. Many have loved-ones, and partners who live in constant fear that their economic circumstance depends on the lie holding up, in a ridiculous world of make believe that by itself is directly opposed to the harsh, real-life world our troops inhabit.
    The argument has been made that if DADT is repealed, those troops who disagree with the open policy that will replace it, allowing homosexuals to serve openly, will be forced from the military for disagreeing. This is patent nonsense. Soldiers have disagreed with policies as long as soldiers have saluted and existed. No soldier is to be removed for disagreeing with a policy. If they were, the armed forces would empty out overnight.
    I was in the Army for many years, and I’m sure I served with gay and lesbian troops. Those who argue unit cohesion either never served, or suffer from the old, tired social disorder called homophobia. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is a throwback to a darker age, an age of denial, fear and outmoded assumptions. The same useless arguments for the perpetuation of DADT were made about blacks and women serving. Several of our allies have homosexuals serving proudly and well in their armed forces. And let’s not forget, every trooper wearing those funny suits, lugging around fifty pounds of battle rattle volunteered to do so, to serve this great nation when they may have found more lucrative employment elsewhere. Until this nation accepts the fact that gay and lesbian citizens exist, they are members of society, pay their taxes, work hard, obey the laws, and yes, serve in our military, the DADT policy is an embarrassment and a dismal failure. We are better than this. We need to repeal DADT.

Perspective

caffection@gmail.com (Edgington) — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 20:45:00 +0000

Taken from a geostationary satellite, this is home. If we could all launch ourselves to that altitude, climb inside the tiny orbiting station from which this shot was taken, and just contemplate what it is we're seeing, we'd come back with a new perspective on everything. And here's the beauty of it: We can go there, because the human mind is capable of taking us there. Think about it. That satellite is above our heads, roughly 22,000 miles high, constantly falling toward earth, thus in a stationary orbit. Humans generated the idea of such a mechanical device; humans worked out the math and physics to make it happen; humans built the device, the launch vehicle for it, and the peripheral support mechanisms to allow it to send us images just like the one above. That was the difficult part.

Or was it? Could it be that the tough part is realizing just how much power the ordinary human intellect has to look at the world in front of us, and to see the possibilities--good and bad--that present themselves to us? The truth is, that we can launch ourselves to those heights, and higher, in our imaginations if we choose to. The only things holding us back are the crushing gravity of prejudice, mistrust, doubt, and the heaviest burden of all, fear. If fear had won the battle with those who dreamed this little satellite, and all the new perspective it could offer, this image wouldn't exist. If fear had won, well...