Wisdom

Thought for the day from If Minds Had Toes by Lucy Eyre. Picture a football. [This is a British story - so picture a soccer ball.] Imagine that the space inside the ball represents everything you know. And the space outside the ball represents everything you don't know. The surface of the ball represents everything that you know you don't know. As your knowledge (the ball) expands, so does the surface. The more you know, the more you know that you don't know. And this, Socrates would say, is the beginning of wisdom.

I think there's a parallel with accomplishments. Say the space inside the ball represents everything you've done and the space outside the ball represents everything you haven't done. The surface of the ball represents everything you want to do.

I'm increasingly frustrated that I can't seem to do everything at once - or even one after the other. I'm really going to have to get better time management skills or start eliminating some things from my "to do" list - or both.

When I turned thirty it occured to me that I was probably never going to climb Mt Everest. Climbing Mt Everest had never actually been on my list, but it was my very first realization that possibly there were some things I was never going to do. I was in my forties when my mother died and I realized there are some things I'm not going to be able to change.

Let me tell you, I'm not happy about it. It's requiring ever more difficult choices about what's important and what can be set aside. "... the wisdom to know the difference."

Performing Arts

There's something ironic about performing arts. I'm listening to a classical music channel on Dish Network. When I hear something new or unusual I can glance at the text on the screen listing the title of the piece, the artist, the title and label of the CD. But it seems odd to me that the "artist" listed is the performer, not the composer.

Music, like dance and theater, only exists in the moment - and memory. The composer creates a work of art and succeeding generations of performers make it available to listeners. In my experience with music, we seem celebrate the composer more than the performer. I'm more likely to say, "I want to hear Tchaikovsky's 5th Symphony," than to say "I want to hear the London Philharmonic." Of course, there's a point of sophistication at which I may say, "I want to hear the London Philharmonic recording of Tchaikovsky's 5th Symphony."

It's even more ironic in dance. I know the names of a few dancers and choreographers. But I'm quite likely to know the composer of the music. (Why isn't there a form of dance without music?) In theater, I'm likely to know the name of the writer and a couple of the actors, but not the director. Hmm...

I'm intrigued by the idea of painting or sculpting as a performing art. What if you could watch an artist creating an original work - or reproducing a master piece? That may sound deadly dull to most people, but I think it would be interesting.

At my next bookclub meeting, we'll be choosing six books to read in the coming year. I'm taking my role in this far too seriously. I feel like I'm about to be exiled to a desert island and I can only take six books. Well, that's not exactly it. On a desert island I'd need books from which I could draw eternal intellectual stimulation and pleasure and comfort. (And maybe a survival guide.)

For my book group, I need books that will have some general appeal (Not so much Flatland - the choice from which my reputation is still recovering. It's not so much that my friends didn't like it. It's that it was a book about - gasp - math! Not a math book, mind you. But a story which required a grasp of some fairly sophisticated math concepts.)

For the bookclub I want books which benefit from the critical reading that the anticipated group discussion requires. Add that to my personal criteria: some classics, some contemporary fiction, something thought provoking that adds to my understanding of the world and the human condition. And, as if that weren't enough, I want beautiful, challenging language.

Okay, I'm ruling out Don Quixote (despite the obvious analogy to my quest for the perfect book.) It definitely meets the criteria. But I'm gonna need weekly discussions for that. And my group only meets every two months. Likewise, Ulysses and many more of the classics on my "to read before I die" list.

I have lists. Nobel Prize winners. Pulitzer Prize winners. Booker Prize winners. New York Times Bestsellers. Random House's Modern Library best novels. Even Oprah's Bookclub. And Rebecca has collected more booklists than I can imagine.

So here are my preliminary picks for contemporary fiction. Ta-da:

The Reader, Bernhard Schlink (NYT Bestseller)

Absurdistan, Gary Shteyngarat (NYT Top 10 Books of the year)

The Hours, Michael Cunningham (Pulitzer Prize Winner)

Tomorrow: classics.

Gardening Plans

My opportunity for a "jump start" is rapidly shrinking. As I struggle to adapt to my new job and to get the holiday decorations put away, the seed catalogs are piling up tauntingly on the counter. The March-like weather we've been having makes me feel like I'm weeks behind in planning. Simon's idea for an hour of gardening a day is a good one.

Bill's been building a deluxe model cold frame so we'll be able to start more things early - or earlier - than we usually do. That leads to my rethinking my standard schedule and choices of varieties. If I start lettuce and spinach in the cold frame there will be more space in the raised beds. I can start more annual flowers (tho' I think this is a bad year to try more of anything.)

I must say I find myself drawn to colorful varieties. Easter Egg radishes, Bright Lights Chard, Rainbow or Kaleidoscope carrots and an amazing array of colors of peppers and tomatoes.

Book, Books and More Books

Christmas brought me another stack of books for the nightstand long before I finished the last stack.

Irreligion by John Allen Paulos
The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls
Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart
The Universe by Leo Marriott
The Hobbit by J R R Tolkien
World Changing edited by Alex Steffen


I have to be intrigued by a book like World Changing which starts with a section named "Stuff," a concept I use frequently. The book begins:

Our things define us.
What we buy, what we use, what we keep and throw away, what we waste and what we save; the stuff that surrounds us and flows through our lives is a key indicator of the kinds of lives we're living. To be an affluent twenty-first-century person is to float on a sea of material objects -- each with its own history and future.

The following 600 pages are crammed with information about worldwide environmental issues and suggestions for effecting change.

It's that time of year again when I struggle to fit the books onto existing bookshelves. All I managed yesterday was to reduce the risk of the stacks on top from toppling over.

My father built this bookcase when I was about ten years old, from clear pine boards with shelves carefully designed (probably by my mother) to hold the maximum number of various sizes of books. The tall shelves at the lower right used to hold the Encyclopedia Britannica.

I cleaned my closet last week. (Look, no skeletons.) It's easier 'cause I don't like clothes that much. Give me a couple of pairs of jeans, a couple of pairs of dress pants, half a dozen shirts, a jacket and I'm good to go. Maybe there's some room for books here...

But really, books and clothes are both easy because I know where to sell them or give them away. I've got a whole room full of other stuff I don't know what to do with. I'm going to try the two "used stuff" stores I know about - one in Dryden and one just south of Ithaca. Wish me luck.

Change of Seasons

This is what we like to see on the last day of the calendar year. We're twelve days into winter, the most contemplative season of the year. Something about the sensory deprivation of the black and white scene is actually very stimulating to that contemplation. Maggy and I have decorated our holiday tree in black and white the past few years. [You can imagine how hard it is to find black decorations.]

Sounds and Spirit's Sunday program, Cycles, was a beautiful tribute to changing seasons - particularly winter, and including a section honoring crones - wise women over 50. That's me.

Thanks's to Bill and Belinda's advice I'm in the process of downloading it. Yesterday I tolerated the two hour download of an upgrade to my Real Player. Now I'm downloading the show. It seems to be able to download 30 seconds of the show every two minutes. It's an hour long show. Do the math. Maybe I'll go get ready for work.

Yep. I'm going to work in an office today. It's the first day of my new job as Dryden Town Supervisor. And I'm excited.

Holiday in Progress

I'm so happy to have Maggy home for the entire week. There's no better way to celebrate the end of the year and beginning of a new year. Part of our celebration is an extraordinary gift exchange.


Apparently we each buy about six gifts for each other. Nothing extravagant. There's usually potholders or dish towels for Momma, socks for Uncle Bill, paperback books for everyone. But it makes a festive display on Christmas Eve and a delightful mess Christmas morning. In a tiny tribute to environmental awareness, most of our wrapping paper is plain white kraft paper and the ribbons are real fabric ribbons that are reused so often they're acquiring that "remember when" quality.




At the town staff lunch Monday we were talking about the best/worst gift ever received. At the time I couldn't think of anything in the "bad" much less "worst" category. But this one might seriously take the prize. Bill gave me a radio controlled rat. Keep in mind that Bill and I have known each other for about thirty-five years. He always gives me some kind of toy. This one is meant as a new game for the cats. And they do seem intrigued.

We topped off the day with a wonderful dinner including roast beast, potatoes, extravagant out-of-season asparagus, salad and incredible lemon meringue pie and chocolate pecan pie. We're fortunate indeed.

Deer Damage

More and more often lately, as I run outside in my stocking feet to chase deer away from the Rhododendrons, Holly, fruit trees or even the bird feeders, I think I should try hunting shooting again. I really wouldn't have to hunt. It's more like shooting fish in a barrel around here. But it's been a long time since I shot a gun and I'm not sure I can actually hit anything any more. The sound alone would deter the deer for a few days. But eventually I'd actually have to kill one to convince them I'm serious.

David says he's going to take up hunting in 2008 and quotes the New York Times on the impact of deer overpopulation on landscaping and such. Frustrated as I am by the damage to my shrubs, I'm more concerned about the impact of deer on the forest ecology. Years ago I thought I'd like to have a hemlock in my yard. So, I set out to find one in the woods to transplant. When I couldn't find one taller than a foot but less than five feet, I began to realize the impact the deer were having on forest regeneration.

From Cornell Department of Natural Resources:

Research is showing that white tailed deer populations of more than 14 deer per square mile can have a harmful impact on forest health. Many areas of New York have 16 to 40 deer per square mile. This impact is commonly seen in the lack of diverse seedlings and young trees in many forests. If your forest has an open understory, chances are it is actually in a path of decline, rather than vigorous health.

I don't know how wide their range is, but when I see eight at once in my yard, I'm guessing there are more than 16 per square mile.

Deer damage cannot be repaired easily. All forest owners should prevent and reduce deer damage to maple, ash, hickory, walnut, oak, and other seedlings. Deer have a lower preference for some species, like beech and black cherry. This means that over time, the composition of tree species in forests may shift to just a few different kinds of trees, rather than the natural diversity that existed before deer became overpopulated in New York in the last 30 years.

This confirms my observations. Beech and black cherry saplings abound. Even White Ash is doing fine, except for the "ash dieback" and the threat of the ash borer. But maple, hickory, walnut, oak and hemlock just don't have replacement seedling coming along. I should probably stop trying to protect my ornamental shrubs and devote the time to protecting some saplings in the woods.

The impact of the loss of the understory affects habitat of small mammals and some songbirds. Not to mention that the deer can easily decimate wildflowers such as Trillium and Mayflowers. I don't recall when I developed this non-anthropocentric viewpoint. But the health of the ecosystem is more important to me than the fact that I have to fence my fruit trees for protection and drive 40 mph or less on the way home to avoid hitting deer.

The problem is too many people, not enough wolves. I don't think the neighbors will let me have wolves. In fact, I don't have enough space to induce wolves to stay even if the neighbors cooperate. So, we have to be the wolves.

Gadgets

This is my new best gadget friend. Bill gets little prizes from a number of organizations he donates to. He usually passes them on to me. And I usually pass them on to the Salvation Army store.

But for some reason I was inspired to try this little flashlight that clips on the bill of my hat. (Yep. That camo hat is my new best wardrobe accessory.) The little flashlight is GREAT! I can go down to the cellar to flip a circuit breaker without groping for the cellar light. I can walk out to the chicken coop before sunrise with a water bucket in one hand and kitchen scraps in the other. I guess I could even use it to read in bed if I were inclined to go to bed with a hat on.

I was using it yesterday as I was repairing a lamp socket. You know, if you've turned off the electricity to the lamp, it's hard to get enough light to see what you're doing and you certainly don't have a free hand for a flashlight. It worked like a charm. I heartily recommend it for anyone whose eyes are as old as mine.

Blogs I Like

Blogs I like have ...

...pictures.

...fairly short posts most days. I don't have a lot of time in the morning. If I'm going to visit a dozen or so folks, their posts have to be reasonably concise. Sure, we all need to say something longer once in a while. But on a daily basis I don't have time for sermons.

...and links. This is the truly magical difference between blogs and print media. To make the post short enough to catch my attention, yet maintain the all-important detail, I need links.

But not just links. I have a slow, dial-up connection and I'm not going to invest the time in clicking a link if I don't have a clue that it's leading to something I care about. Give me a sentence or two describing what's interesting about the link.

Considering all that, my new best blog friend is Mental Multivitamin. For one thing, her logo is irresistible.

And I like the "On the Nightstand" feature. Here's mine.

Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott

A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini

Timothy, or Notes of an Abject Reptile, Verlyn Klinkenborg

The Canon, Natalie Angier

Assault on Reason, Al Gore

Like M-MV, I often resolve not to go to the library or buy more books 'til I catch up on the stack on the nightstand. But I never can keep the resolution.

Like me, M-MV is a mother, pianist, birder, photographer, seeker of truth and much, much more.

Poetry

Leendalu may be right that every blog should have a poet laureate. That sounds like a huge commitment. I can probably only manage "the poet I'm enjoying most at the moment." At this moment it is Joy Harjo, featured last night on The Newshour.

First let me say a word about a news program that features poetry regularly. Cool! I've long since given up TV network news. For spoken information about the outside world, I rely on CSPAN, The Newshour, Public Radio. I also read quite a bit: magazines, books and internet articles. But reading is different. I'm inclined to skip over topics that don't seem appealing at the moment. TV and radio encourage me to listen to things I didn't expect to be interesting but often are - like poetry.

Anyway, in case you're reluctant to click over to Joy Harjo's page, here's one of the poems that caught my attention (pasted here, unabashedly without permission, from the PBS Poetry Series page.)


To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you. And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear,
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

Charity

Maggy sent me a link to the New York Times article The Chicken and Rice Man. As she said, "this story actually brought tears to my eyes - it's so nice to read about people who do good things just because."

Jorge Muñoz, who makes $600 a week as a school bus driver, provides a hot meal every night at 9:30 to dozens of hungry, usually homeless, men. He started three years ago delivering eight brown bag snacks of fruit and cookies three times a week. Word spread among the men who needed meals and Jorge's friends who could donate food. Jorge and his mother began making hot meals from the donated food. And so it goes.

What I like about this story is that Jorge didn't start by thinking about how to pay for it, or how to solicit donations or investing in a commercial kitchen. He just started making meals. What I fear is that the NYT publicity will make the whole thing fall apart.

Yesterday a friend told me about the Willard Suitcase Exhibit. When nearby Willard Psychiatric Center closed in 1995 hundreds of suitcases were found in an abandoned building. Craig Williams, a curator at the New York State Museum, uncovered details of the lives of the owners of a few of the suitcases.

For example: Lawrence M was committed in 1916 at the age of 38 "because, according to his records, he had been heard 'singing, shouting, also praying, claiming to hear the voice of God and seeing the angels...' " [I am reminded of Socrates, "...a man who beholds the beauty of this world... will desire to spread his wings and fly upward, and because he gazes upward, like a bird, and cares nothing for the world below, he will be considered mad."]

But Lawrence did not fly. "... he became the gravedigger at Willard's cemetery in 1937, when he was nearly 60 years old. He dug more than 600 graves for his fellow patients over the next 14 years, and continued to work as Willard's gravedigger until his own death at age 90. He, too, was buried in Willard's cemetery, where the deceased did not have headstones, but instead were given cast-iron markers with numbers. Eventually, these markers were removed in order to make it easier to mow the cemetery."

The traveling version of the exhibit has been called "The Lives They Left Behind." Oddly, the NYS Museum calls the exhibit "Lost Cases, Recovered Lives." Recovered by whom, I wonder. Not the people who owned the cases, all of whom are apparently dead.

Maggy's Boy Friend

I have to try to write this without embarrassing Maggy ('tho that ship may have sailed with the headline.) Our holiday was enriched by her friend, Andy. I enjoyed talking with him. And I enjoyed how content and relaxed Maggy was with him around.

We like the same kind of beer. And movies. He's the kind of person who asks, when he gets up to go to the kitchen, "Can I get you anything?" But here's the clincher. I asked him to retrieve the stepladder from the garden (where weeks ago I was using it to pick pole beans) and change a bulb in the outdoor light fixture. It turns out that he probably could have reached the fixture without the ladder. But that's not the point. I noticed this morning that he had stored the ladder in the tool shed instead of leaving it right where he used it, as I undoubtedly would have.


The dreaded bus carried them safely back to New York last night.

I've liked every boy Maggy's brought home. (There haven't been that many.) But (here's where I probably embarrass Maggy) I kind of hope this one's a keeper.

Sound and Spirit

One of the many pleasures public radio offers me every week is Ellen Kushner's program Sound and Spirit. Unfortunately for me, here in central New York, it is heard at 6:00 PM Sundays when I'm often busy with other things. The broadcasts are available online. But they're .pls files and apparently I don't have software that recongizes them. can anyone help me with this?

Wildlife

Several evenings in the past week or two Murphy was on sentry duty in front of the kitchen door staring intently into the night. I never could see what he was looking at and I chalked it up to wishful thinking on his part. But last night it became clear. Apparently I'm being too generous with Jake's evening meal and this 'possum is cleaning up for him.



I have a kind of soft spot in my heart for opossums. They're so intently focused on finding food, they seem - well - not too bright. I'm not happy that Jake is allowing this (he's hunkered down just to the left of this photo.) When I got a look at the 'possum's teeth and claws I could understand. Jake's pretty aggressive but he's figured out that this isn't going to be his last free meal so he seems to be willing to share.

I understand that opossums have fairly tough lives, but every bowl of cat food he's eating represents one or two mice or a whole handful of slugs he's ignoring.

Opossums seem like a design by committee. They have prehensile tails, thumb-like digits on their back feet, 50 teeth (!), thirteen teats (asymmetry is unusual in vertebrates) and two vaginas (or, in the case of males, a two-prong penis.) Really! One can only speculate on the adaptive advantages of that.

I'm now trying to figure out why this article, Evolution of Marsupials, sounds so much more plausible than Marsupial Evolution and Post Flood Migration.

Thanksgiving Philosophy

It was, once again, a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat. Following the incredible onion soup and homemade bread, the repast featured a most wonderful Plainville turkey, accompanied by Brussels sprouts with sage, greens with champagne vinaigrette. All the regular players were there: mashed potatoes, gravy, baked squash, cranberry sauce, stuffing, apple pie, pumpkin pie.

The newest guest at our table is a friend of Maggy's and a pleasure to have around. Observant, witty and comfortably at home in the world, it didn't surprise me to hear that he had been philosophy major in college. But I got confused as he tried to describe to me his job in merchandising for the online presence of a major fashion retailer. I'm not mentioning the name cause it will drive up my hit counter in an unhelpful way. Maybe it was this employment connection that led to his interest in the morning parade sponsored by you-know-who.

Maybe I found the explanation this morning. Some random free time surfing starting with the ever favorite Blog Around the Clock and wandering through Pharyngula (I don't mind if links to them drive up my hit counter) led to The Brooks Blog and this post: Employers want philosophers. Thom Brooks says:

There has been much talk over the years of "what can I do with a philosophy degree?" ... I will never forget speaking with a former FBI Director in Connecticut who said that after lawyers and accountants, the third most in demand group for the FBI were philosophers..."because philosophers think outside the box and we need critical thinkers like this to solve cases." This view of philosophers as best able to think beyond current paradigms (coupled with general high dissatisfaction with the quality of the vast majority of business students) has also led philosophers to be heavily in demand in business management, especially marketing.

You know how I feel about philosophy - the love of wisdom. It's the silver bullet, the sine qua non. Why, oh why, don't we teach philosophy as soon as our children can speak and every single day thereafter? You can start before that, but it helps if the child can ask questions. Say what you will about the importance of religion, it's really all about philosophy.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. What could be better than taking a few minutes or an hour or a whole day to think about things for which we're thankful? There have been years in my life when illness, grief or financial struggles made it hard for me to focus on things to be thankful for. But I'm a "glass half full" person and every year I find myself more deeply serene and more eager than ever to see what's around the corner.

It's no accident that my life is filled with wonderful things. I strive to surround myself with the beauties of nature, the richness of lasting friendships and a constant effort to understand more about the world around me. I take personal responsibility for building an increasingly satisfying life for myself and my family.

Yesterday I came upon this quote from an unknown source.

Be careful of your thoughts,

they become words.

Be careful of your words,

they become actions.

Be careful of your actions,

they become habits.

Be careful of your habits,

they become character.

Be careful of your character,

it becomes your destiny...

Blogging

Local historian, Carol Kammen's article in Saturday's Ithaca Journal Today It's a Blog; Tomorrow It's a Source Document lends an interesting perspective to blogging. Kammen says:

"I regard blogs today as our new version of those old black diaries dating from the 19th century found in historical societies. The difference is that the diary writer's audience was generally him or herself while the blog opens up a conversation with family and friends, and also with general readers."

Carol comments on Simon's Living in Dryden blog:

This blog is kept faithfully and is illustrated; the writer researches his subjects, comments on local activities and has a very keen personal view, which is fun to read.

Of Five Wells she says:

This blog is kept by a woman who has a farm, a horse, cats — much about cats. She is ecologically conscious and attempts to live as independently as possible. She is also active in the community in numerous ways, all reflected in her blog. I respond to her strong, happy female voice; she cheers and inspires me.

And I'm flattered. It's not self-aggrandizement to say that's just what I wanted Five Wells to be: "a strong, happy female voice." Those Victorian diary writers knew they were not special people. They just wanted to write. I started writing three and a half years ago to brush up my writing skills, never expecting anyone to read it. One by one friends and family and others found and enjoyed my stories. My voice and style adjusted to them.

I more or less mastered the "dates of wars and treaties" version of history in high school and college. I never cared much for it and I've forgotten a lot of it. But I love the stories of how people lived and thought in other eras.

19th Century Diaries, at A Victorian Passage, describes historical "rules" for diary keeping (which might well apply to blogs as well.)

1. "One must not attempt too much. A country school-teacher, leading a humdrum life in a little village, does not need a diary large enough to set down the doings of court and king; but she will probably find much pleasure in jotting down a brief record of her daily life."
2. "You don't have to buy a diary. A blank book will work just fine."
3. "Be regular at it for the first year and you should find it a habit to keep up your journal, but only if your entries are brief.
4. "Ask yourself 'What happenings in your life are worth recording?' "

If the blogs you read regularly are losing their luster, take a look at the 2007 Weblog Awards. It's strictly a popularity contest. But you can get a good idea of what other people are reading.

Halloween in Dryden

Last night Dryden was Small Town America at it's best. I had the pleasure of judging the Costume Contest sponsored by the American Legion. It's harder than it sounds! So many kids! So little time!




In addition to the many happy, cute kids, there were some good candidates for America's Next Top Model.

The highlight of the evening was a ride on the fire truck. It seems to have a practical value, too. It's poignant to watch a parent handing his child to a firefighter. But no doubt it helps children become accustomed to help from the firefighters in the scary costumes.

I dressed in the spirit of the evening - sort of a Mary Poppins witch. Watch out, Simon and Kathy. This is my next headshot. And Maggy, I'm sure this will be your desktop wallpaper today.