There are really two University of Alabama's. The one is the academic institution, the other is the athletic (primarily football) institution. They share a name, and *perhaps* some funding. I have a lot of coginitive dissonance and unresolved issues about being both a fan of football and well, you know, a rational human being.
The two so often seem at odds when I reflect back.
Here's what an old friend of mine said on Facebook after Auburn University lost a close one to Clemson and Alabama annihilated Michigan tonight:
"F*** Alabama!" (The original was not censored.)
Here's what I wanted to say:
"Awe, how are those grapes? A little sour I guess. Well, perhaps Auburn could borrow one of our four top-notch running backs. Nah, on second thought, we're using them ALL."
I managed, instead to say:
"Heh. Music to my ears."
I should have said, well, nothing at all.
I'm not writing this blog post TO that person. I think it's best just to let it go; but if they follow the link over here, so be it.
I felt really bad... feel really bad about the oaks at Toomer's Corner. I do. That was abhorrent behavior; beyond abhorrent. AND, the cringe inducing (for me, anyway) sign at ESPN College Gameday this morning making fun of the incident was even more abhorant and damning. I've seen Alabama fans act like fools SO many times. I grew up on the other side of this argument, as an Auburn fan. I've been there. I don't largely like Alabama fans. But I'm here to tell you that no fan base in the SEC is above reproach even if each one thinks it is. And, even if one or the other fan bases is "worse" than any other, a claim I find dubious in the extreme, the way that each fan base rationalizes their horrible behavior by pointing to how badly they themselves have been treated self-nullifies the claim of moral superiority.
Hatred is bad people. Grudges are worse, and worse of all are the grudges for entire institutions and people groups, blindly applied.
I'm pretty sure football is bad for people. I'm pretty sure I can't stop loving it.
Cognitive. Dissonance.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Filling Pails or Lighting Fires
I posted about the issue this blog post is going to address on Facebook already. Most of the time, when I find a disturbing bit of news on the internet, I can post a few words about it on Facebook and that will somehow satiate my need for people not to be wrong. Believe me, people are wrong on the internet all the time; it's important to have a pressure valve, especially if you're me and you just really hate people's inability to come to rational rather than knee-jerk conclusions.
Unfortunately, Facebook didn't work as a palliative this time. The issue has gotten under my skin and I need to "scratch", if you will. So, I've come here to do it.
The State of Louisiana, under Governor Bobby Jindal, has decided that it's basically going to outsource (probably I should say, privatize) it's education system, at least in part, via the largest school voucher system in America.
Let me start by saying I think you should be able to school your children in the way that seems fit to you. For one, I believe in competition as a driving force for improvement. Let me then say, I think it's obvious that you should want to have your children in public school.
Let me explain. I often go to de Tocqueville because I believe he put it best when he argued that in a democracy, the people get ONLY the government that they deserve. It's in the best interest of all it citizens that the country's young people, inexorably marching toward voting age, become educated, capable (in academia, the arts, etc.), and most of all, discerning. (Incidentally, that's also what's best for the children themselves. ) You don't want idiots for citizens because idiots deserve an idiot government. In short, as goes the education system, and in particular, as goes the public education system, so goes the democracy.
The public education system works best when all of the citizens and their children (such as they have any) are invested co-partners.
Vouchers are harmful to this system, because they lure away capable students, and they draw money away from the public education system itself. Period. Full stop.
They are most dreadfully harmful, as is the case with Louisiana, when they are directed away from the public school system, whose goal should always be to produce well-educated, discerning students, to institutions who make no pretence about being anything but driven by this or that demagoguery. (Incidentally, I understand, better than most readers of this blog, the short-comings of the current public education system; more bogged down and nearly drowning in bureaucratically motivated testing for testings' sake than it is interested in fulfilling it's purpose. After all, I deal with college freshman every year. But again, how are vouchers supposed to make the system better? How is leaving the system, giving up, supposed to make it better?).
Louisiana tax dollars are going to institutions that have bought so called "text books" that are just plain shameful. This link does a good job of giving you the rundown: here. How can it be in the best interest of the citizens of Louisiana (or of the Unites States for that matter) for their future citizens to be thus wilfully misinformed?
I'm a Christian. I understand that, even though I believe that I experience a personal relationship with a living God, their is an inherent element of faith that I must possess in that. I also understand that that last sentence sounds like utter nonsense to my readers and friends who aren't Christian and who not only think that I don't have a relationship with God, but also that there is no God and that I'm just deluding myself. I accept that. I accept it, even as I hope you might one day come around to seeing things my way. There is room for respect for each others beliefs. But what there is not is room for the denial of evidence based facts to fit a dogma that is laughably conflated with religion. It's not what Christians are called to do, and it's not what Christ did. It's just plain dangerous. It's dangerous to our very democracy, our very ability to worship (or not) however we choose.
The most common thing you hear about vouchers is when parents say, 'well, I'm glad we live in a free country where I can choose to school my child wherever and however I want. I like vouchers because it means we won't have to pay for school twice.'
I'm glad we live in a free country too. I wouldn't think I'd have to say that, but you seem to think I'm against personal liberty somehow. I'm not. But, as to the part about vouchers just meaning you won't have to pay twice, wrong.
You don't have any more argument there than would a person who has no children, or one whose children are grown. You and them and I have something in common. We're not paying taxes for our children to go to school, we're paying for EVERYONE'S children to go to school, because it's in our best interest that they do.
So, if you want a refund, fine. The best you could possibly argue for would be to take the pittance of your total taxes that actually goes to education, divide it by the number of children in public school, and then you may have the sad amount that you paid for your own child. Hardly worth it I'd say.
(As an aside, note that this is very different than what vouchers actually accomplish, where effectively state governments like Louisiana's are subsidising private institutions so that those institutions can lower their tuition costs, effectively outsourcing education whole cloth.)
There's a reason why private school is so expensive. No one in their right mind who isn't wholly committed to making a real difference for our future society would go into public education as a career. By in large the teachers who work with our children in the public system are getting used and abused and they know it, and they come to work and do their dead level best anyway. In my book, that's the first step to sainthood. How does starving an already under-funded future help? Not only that, but it's wrong to abuse such a group of people just because despite the enormous amount of lip-service we pay to the need for better education, what we really mean is better education for me and mine alone and I'd really like to spend as much of our money somewhere else as we can.
So, send your children to private school if you must. (There's probably a whole other post in me about how for the life of me I don't see the benefit of a non-public education over a public one, but it's late and I'm tired). I know and like a lot of well meaning people who do just that. But, if you do I think you're making a mistake; for all of us. What's more, it shouldn't even be an issue where the government collected taxes ought to rightly go.
Unfortunately, Facebook didn't work as a palliative this time. The issue has gotten under my skin and I need to "scratch", if you will. So, I've come here to do it.
The State of Louisiana, under Governor Bobby Jindal, has decided that it's basically going to outsource (probably I should say, privatize) it's education system, at least in part, via the largest school voucher system in America.
Let me start by saying I think you should be able to school your children in the way that seems fit to you. For one, I believe in competition as a driving force for improvement. Let me then say, I think it's obvious that you should want to have your children in public school.
Let me explain. I often go to de Tocqueville because I believe he put it best when he argued that in a democracy, the people get ONLY the government that they deserve. It's in the best interest of all it citizens that the country's young people, inexorably marching toward voting age, become educated, capable (in academia, the arts, etc.), and most of all, discerning. (Incidentally, that's also what's best for the children themselves. ) You don't want idiots for citizens because idiots deserve an idiot government. In short, as goes the education system, and in particular, as goes the public education system, so goes the democracy.
The public education system works best when all of the citizens and their children (such as they have any) are invested co-partners.
Vouchers are harmful to this system, because they lure away capable students, and they draw money away from the public education system itself. Period. Full stop.
They are most dreadfully harmful, as is the case with Louisiana, when they are directed away from the public school system, whose goal should always be to produce well-educated, discerning students, to institutions who make no pretence about being anything but driven by this or that demagoguery. (Incidentally, I understand, better than most readers of this blog, the short-comings of the current public education system; more bogged down and nearly drowning in bureaucratically motivated testing for testings' sake than it is interested in fulfilling it's purpose. After all, I deal with college freshman every year. But again, how are vouchers supposed to make the system better? How is leaving the system, giving up, supposed to make it better?).
Louisiana tax dollars are going to institutions that have bought so called "text books" that are just plain shameful. This link does a good job of giving you the rundown: here. How can it be in the best interest of the citizens of Louisiana (or of the Unites States for that matter) for their future citizens to be thus wilfully misinformed?
I'm a Christian. I understand that, even though I believe that I experience a personal relationship with a living God, their is an inherent element of faith that I must possess in that. I also understand that that last sentence sounds like utter nonsense to my readers and friends who aren't Christian and who not only think that I don't have a relationship with God, but also that there is no God and that I'm just deluding myself. I accept that. I accept it, even as I hope you might one day come around to seeing things my way. There is room for respect for each others beliefs. But what there is not is room for the denial of evidence based facts to fit a dogma that is laughably conflated with religion. It's not what Christians are called to do, and it's not what Christ did. It's just plain dangerous. It's dangerous to our very democracy, our very ability to worship (or not) however we choose.
The most common thing you hear about vouchers is when parents say, 'well, I'm glad we live in a free country where I can choose to school my child wherever and however I want. I like vouchers because it means we won't have to pay for school twice.'
I'm glad we live in a free country too. I wouldn't think I'd have to say that, but you seem to think I'm against personal liberty somehow. I'm not. But, as to the part about vouchers just meaning you won't have to pay twice, wrong.
You don't have any more argument there than would a person who has no children, or one whose children are grown. You and them and I have something in common. We're not paying taxes for our children to go to school, we're paying for EVERYONE'S children to go to school, because it's in our best interest that they do.
So, if you want a refund, fine. The best you could possibly argue for would be to take the pittance of your total taxes that actually goes to education, divide it by the number of children in public school, and then you may have the sad amount that you paid for your own child. Hardly worth it I'd say.
(As an aside, note that this is very different than what vouchers actually accomplish, where effectively state governments like Louisiana's are subsidising private institutions so that those institutions can lower their tuition costs, effectively outsourcing education whole cloth.)
There's a reason why private school is so expensive. No one in their right mind who isn't wholly committed to making a real difference for our future society would go into public education as a career. By in large the teachers who work with our children in the public system are getting used and abused and they know it, and they come to work and do their dead level best anyway. In my book, that's the first step to sainthood. How does starving an already under-funded future help? Not only that, but it's wrong to abuse such a group of people just because despite the enormous amount of lip-service we pay to the need for better education, what we really mean is better education for me and mine alone and I'd really like to spend as much of our money somewhere else as we can.
So, send your children to private school if you must. (There's probably a whole other post in me about how for the life of me I don't see the benefit of a non-public education over a public one, but it's late and I'm tired). I know and like a lot of well meaning people who do just that. But, if you do I think you're making a mistake; for all of us. What's more, it shouldn't even be an issue where the government collected taxes ought to rightly go.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Of Shakes and Semantics
"What size drink would you like?", is one of those questions to which there is no right answer. I've long thought that I could easily do with one uniform cup size. Consider the two situations. In the first scenario you are staying inside to eat, in which case rare is the establishment that doesn't offer free refills. After all, you don't expect to be asked what size drink you would like when you go to a "sit-down" establishment (as opposed to "fast food"). In the second scenario you are eating (and drinking) on the run. In which case, again, who cares how big the cup is. It's sure to be big enough to contain enough fluid to wash down the food you'll be eating, and regardless of how big the cup is, you're sure to drink until it's empty, and the variation between 16 and 32 oz is a mere 16 measly ounces. Not enough to be concerned with, especially considering that most of what you'll get is ice anyway. If you don't stop to psych yourself out, if you don't spend time thinking about it, then the cup size will be absolutely meaningless to you.
But that's just it. We are forced to think about it. Why ARE there three (or sometimes four) sizes to choose from. Am I supposed to worry about value? I'm paying about a 200% markup for soda regardless. What does it MEAN to me and to others around me if I choose one size over the other. How thirsty AM I? Well, I'm thirsty til I'm not... so...
Effectively, when you're driving, the cup is a distraction. Additionally, no matter how much drink you have, you will be thirsty again. So you always have simultaneously too much and too little to drink.
And the kicker, for me at least, is that when the drive-through speaker blares back at you asking what size drink you would like, the options are meaningless. What size is "small"? How does "medium" differ from "small", aside from the obvious. What's the next size after "medium". In fact, what even is the WORD for the next size after "medium"? There's no standardization, not even lexically, much less in terms of actual quantifiability.
People like options. But cup size is a difference that doesn't make one. It's variety theatre instead of variety in actuality, and I'd actually rather not be asked what size I'd like.
I've developed a trick to expedite having to deal with the meaningless decision of deciding on cup size. It's a trick that leverages the built in ambiguity of semantics.
"What size drink would you like?'
"I'll have regular."
This almost always works. What's "regular" you might ask? Well, occasionally the establishment might actually have a "regular" size, but even if they don't, WHO CARES!? The employee likely has an idea what "regular" is, and that's perfectly acceptable to me.
But today, at Sonic, the drive through operator, after I told her I wanted "regular" came back with, "We have small, medium, large and route 44 sizes, sir." Really? Are THOSE the sizes you have? Well that's fascinating! I'll take "regular" please. But no. My bluff had been called, and I was forced to make an actual choice. I went with "medium".
Then, we we get to the window, Tabitha's drink comes through the window first, and it's completely devoid of ice. When next the window opened, out flung my beverage, and in mid sentence I was cut off with the slamming window as she went to force the next customer to choose a cup size.
We waited. When the window opened up we asked for a cup of ice. The window closed, again. In the mean time, we noticed I had not been allotted a straw. The window opened again and out flew another cup. With an urgency in our request we managed to keep the window from slamming again, barely, before closing without our request being registered. The look we received... the contempt in the eye-roll... the aggravation with us, the oh-so-troubling customers. Well, I didn't like it. Not. At. All.
But that's just it. We are forced to think about it. Why ARE there three (or sometimes four) sizes to choose from. Am I supposed to worry about value? I'm paying about a 200% markup for soda regardless. What does it MEAN to me and to others around me if I choose one size over the other. How thirsty AM I? Well, I'm thirsty til I'm not... so...
Effectively, when you're driving, the cup is a distraction. Additionally, no matter how much drink you have, you will be thirsty again. So you always have simultaneously too much and too little to drink.
And the kicker, for me at least, is that when the drive-through speaker blares back at you asking what size drink you would like, the options are meaningless. What size is "small"? How does "medium" differ from "small", aside from the obvious. What's the next size after "medium". In fact, what even is the WORD for the next size after "medium"? There's no standardization, not even lexically, much less in terms of actual quantifiability.
People like options. But cup size is a difference that doesn't make one. It's variety theatre instead of variety in actuality, and I'd actually rather not be asked what size I'd like.
I've developed a trick to expedite having to deal with the meaningless decision of deciding on cup size. It's a trick that leverages the built in ambiguity of semantics.
"What size drink would you like?'
"I'll have regular."
This almost always works. What's "regular" you might ask? Well, occasionally the establishment might actually have a "regular" size, but even if they don't, WHO CARES!? The employee likely has an idea what "regular" is, and that's perfectly acceptable to me.
But today, at Sonic, the drive through operator, after I told her I wanted "regular" came back with, "We have small, medium, large and route 44 sizes, sir." Really? Are THOSE the sizes you have? Well that's fascinating! I'll take "regular" please. But no. My bluff had been called, and I was forced to make an actual choice. I went with "medium".
Then, we we get to the window, Tabitha's drink comes through the window first, and it's completely devoid of ice. When next the window opened, out flung my beverage, and in mid sentence I was cut off with the slamming window as she went to force the next customer to choose a cup size.
We waited. When the window opened up we asked for a cup of ice. The window closed, again. In the mean time, we noticed I had not been allotted a straw. The window opened again and out flew another cup. With an urgency in our request we managed to keep the window from slamming again, barely, before closing without our request being registered. The look we received... the contempt in the eye-roll... the aggravation with us, the oh-so-troubling customers. Well, I didn't like it. Not. At. All.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Value Added
In 2004, Ken Jennings won 75 consecutive matches of T.V.'s Jeopardy quiz show, winning over two and a half million dollars before being bested by another contestant. Jennings, most recently, was called out of Jeopardy past player's exile in 2011, along with all-time Jeopardy money winner Brad Rutter, to compete against, and summarily be trounced by, an IBM supercomputer called Watson built expressly for the purpose of playing Jeopardy against humans.
(Incidentally, if you missed out on watching history in the making, or you simply want to learn more about the cutting edge computing and artificial intelligence embodied in Watson, then I highly recommend you watch the following episode of PBS's NOVA: The Smartest Machine on Earth.)
Anyway, when Jennings isn't appearing on T.V. as one of the best Jeopardy players (statistically speaking) of all-time, he's busy parleying his fifteen minutes of trivial fame into a successful career as an author.
Last year, I read and thoroughly enjoyed his first book about (what else) trivia and trivia buffs, entitled Brainiac: Adventures in the Curious, Competitive, Compulsive World of Trivia Buffs. Jennings is a funny and insightful author who writes books that anyone can find enjoyable, even if they tend to be about topics many people wouldn't normally be interested in.
I'm currently reading his second book entitled, Maphead: Charting the Wide, Weird World of Geography Wonks. The book is about... well, admittedly I could probably better tell you what it's about once I finish it, but generally, it's about the importance of maps, cartography and geography to humanity now and across the ages.
I was reading this book when I came across the following passage, which I'd like to briefly recreate for you here:
I think Jennings has hit here, explaining the plight of the poor misunderstood geographer, on an important misconception amongst all of academia that I've been ruminating on for quite a while. In academia, 'what do you study?' is what the Buddhists would call a question wrongly put (vlogbrothers / John Green shout out!). The disciplines in academia all seek the same thing; to understand how the world (the universe?) works and how that knowledge can inform us and our decisions.
Ken Jennings goes on to say:
I think, then, that the question rightly put would be, 'What is the lens through which you have chosen to see the world?' This is what I want my college students to know, degrees are little more than marketing ploys invented by colleges and universities to entice prospective students; no different from ploys like whitening agents, or mint flavoring in toothpaste. The power (and saleability and value) of your educational experience is directly proportional to how well you learn to explore questions from far and wide through the lens or lenses associated with your field of study. Geographers use the lens of place and spatial relation while chemists explore the same fundamental questions through the lens of chemical interactions and computer scientists look through the lens of information theory.
Computer science students (and software enigneers and M.I.S. professionals) are not primarily valuable because they can write programs, or use computers better than someone self-taught at these things; but because they can help society (and their bosses) better and more deeply understand the complexities (and occasionally the answers to) problems that have nothing inherently to do with math, or programming, or even computers at all.
In academia, there might be room to argue about the power of our respective lenses (a tempting but, I think, dangerous prospect), but there's no room to argue about how well we've carved out our fields or how important our areas of study are, because our true areas of study, thought about complexly, must necessarily completely overlap.
(Incidentally, if you missed out on watching history in the making, or you simply want to learn more about the cutting edge computing and artificial intelligence embodied in Watson, then I highly recommend you watch the following episode of PBS's NOVA: The Smartest Machine on Earth.)
Anyway, when Jennings isn't appearing on T.V. as one of the best Jeopardy players (statistically speaking) of all-time, he's busy parleying his fifteen minutes of trivial fame into a successful career as an author.
Last year, I read and thoroughly enjoyed his first book about (what else) trivia and trivia buffs, entitled Brainiac: Adventures in the Curious, Competitive, Compulsive World of Trivia Buffs. Jennings is a funny and insightful author who writes books that anyone can find enjoyable, even if they tend to be about topics many people wouldn't normally be interested in.
I'm currently reading his second book entitled, Maphead: Charting the Wide, Weird World of Geography Wonks. The book is about... well, admittedly I could probably better tell you what it's about once I finish it, but generally, it's about the importance of maps, cartography and geography to humanity now and across the ages.
I was reading this book when I came across the following passage, which I'd like to briefly recreate for you here:
Imagine the poor geographer trying to explain to someone at a campus cocktail party (or even to an unsympathetic administrator) exactly what it is he or she studies.
"'Geography' is Greek for 'writing about the Earth.' We study the Earth"
"Right, like Geologists."
"Well, yes, but we're interested in the whole world, not just the rocky bits. Geographers also study oceans, lakes, the water cycle..."
"So it's like oceanography or hydrology."
"And the atmosphere."
"Meteorology, climatology ..."
"It's broader than just physical geography. We're also interested in how humans relate to their planet."
"How is that different from ecology or environmental science?"
"Well, it encompasses them. Aspects of them. But we also study the social and economic and cultural and geopolitical sides of --"
"Sociology, economics, cultural studies, poli sci."
"Some geographers specialize in different world regions."
"Ah, right, we have Asian and African and Latin American studies programs here. But I didn't know they were part of the geography department."
"They're not."
(Long pause.)
"So, uh, what is it you do study, then?"
And... scene.
I think Jennings has hit here, explaining the plight of the poor misunderstood geographer, on an important misconception amongst all of academia that I've been ruminating on for quite a while. In academia, 'what do you study?' is what the Buddhists would call a question wrongly put (vlogbrothers / John Green shout out!). The disciplines in academia all seek the same thing; to understand how the world (the universe?) works and how that knowledge can inform us and our decisions.
Ken Jennings goes on to say:
(Geography is)... made up of every other discipline viewed spatially, through the lens of place. Language, history, biology, public health, paleontology, urban planning -- there are geographers studying all these subjects and aspects of geography taught in all of them.
I think, then, that the question rightly put would be, 'What is the lens through which you have chosen to see the world?' This is what I want my college students to know, degrees are little more than marketing ploys invented by colleges and universities to entice prospective students; no different from ploys like whitening agents, or mint flavoring in toothpaste. The power (and saleability and value) of your educational experience is directly proportional to how well you learn to explore questions from far and wide through the lens or lenses associated with your field of study. Geographers use the lens of place and spatial relation while chemists explore the same fundamental questions through the lens of chemical interactions and computer scientists look through the lens of information theory.
Computer science students (and software enigneers and M.I.S. professionals) are not primarily valuable because they can write programs, or use computers better than someone self-taught at these things; but because they can help society (and their bosses) better and more deeply understand the complexities (and occasionally the answers to) problems that have nothing inherently to do with math, or programming, or even computers at all.
In academia, there might be room to argue about the power of our respective lenses (a tempting but, I think, dangerous prospect), but there's no room to argue about how well we've carved out our fields or how important our areas of study are, because our true areas of study, thought about complexly, must necessarily completely overlap.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Ode to a Car
In 2003 (or, maybe 2004?) Tabitha went with her father (this was B.R., before she became a Ray) to a Toyota dealership on Skyland Blvd in Tuscaloosa, Al (Tuscaloosa Toyota, as it happens), looking for a new solution for her automobile needs.
Tabitha had, in the preceding months, driven her mid-80s era white Pontiac Grand Am to the point that the poor creature literally tossed a push rod out of the bottom of it's engine, through the oil pan, flinging the abused piece of metal down I-20/59 between Birmingham and Tuscaloosa in a trail of brilliant orange sparks. The car was as dead as one can be (though, incidentally, it was later resurrected by it's next owner who dropped a refurbished engine in; I wonder if it's still on the road somewhere, even now?)
As you can imagine, Tabitha's lack of a car was a problem. So, the saga continued when Tabitha's father acquired a used late 80s BMW from a relative. That would have been fine, but THAT poor beast needed a new controller computer for the electrical system. Without warning (and with a knack for choosing in-opportune times), it's computer chip would overheat, causing the electrical system (and thus the engine, starter, and ... everything, really) to cease functioning. The solution was to jump out, pop the hood, and take the positive terminal off the battery. It would have been possible to repair the offending piece, but the drawback to owning a car, like a BMW, which tends to keep its value over the years, is that it's also prohibitively expensive to buy the parts and find someone with enough skill and expertise to work on it. The second or third time Tabitha performed this operation in the middle of the road she'd had enough.
So, when Tabitha and her father wandered over to the used car section at Tuscaloosa Toyota and found a model 2002 Toyota Sebring (light blue, no bells or whistles) she fell in love and within a day she'd settled with the dealership for a ten year loan (a loan that was paid off ahead of time).
Let's face it, the venerable Chrysler name doesn't mean what it used to. I haven't been able to keep track of who owns the Chrysler name these days, but back then Dodge owned it. And if you put a 2002 Dodge Stratus next to a 2002 Chrysler Sebring you will have to squint REAL hard to determine which is which. They are the same car with different maker emblems and a few nicer plastic components inside the Sebring.
That said, when the transmission broke into a pile of grinding gear teeth at around the 60,000 mile mark, we actually weren't too surprised. Tabitha's dad had had enough forethought (I think he would have preferred Tabitha get something else) to purchase a power train warranty from the dealership. (Incidentally, when the repair man showed us the $1500 repair price tag he asked, weren't we glad we decided to buy the warranty. One the one hand, yes, but of course, on the other, I'd already figured that over the lifetime of the warranty the transmission could have died in exactly the same fashion twice more before the dealership began to lose money. Luckily(?) that didn't happen.)
Furthermore, when the timing belt broke on the Interstate near Morristown, Tn with Tabitha and I on our way to celebrate Christmas in Alabama three years ago we were extremely inconvenienced and put under a bit of a monetary strain, but we weren't terribly surprised when all was said and done. (Incidentally, the Sebring has what's called an "interference engine" design, where the valve head and the piston head partially occupy the same space inside the engine as they slide back and forth. Ideally, they never touch, but when the timing belt breaks going down the road at 70 mph, things start to get dicey. By some stroke of luck, the life of the engine itself didn't die three years ago as it could have if the valve and piston had knocked in to one another).
So, with all of this, why am I calling this post an "ode" (ignoring the fact that there's not a lyrical verse to be found in the whole post)? Because I've come to see that car as a a survivor. I've been driving the old car full-time for almost two years now. I've spilled battery acid in it's trunk, I barely ever wash the thing, it needs new tires ever more desperately. It long ago lost, one by one, all four of it's fancy (plastic) Chrysler hub-caps and has steadfastly refused to wear any cheap replacements. It's headlights are cloudy and it's paint is fading. It leaks oil and leaks steering fluid, but it gets me reliably where I'm going.
This week, I've loaded it down repeatedly (probably ten times so far) to take our stuff to our new house. It's living a third life as a work horse for us.
It's silly to personify machines. Nevertheless, the other day I was thinking that, as it rolled off the assembly line and was slapped with the name Chrysler it never imagined it would have such a hard life. Probably, all it's Chrysler buddies would make fun of it if they could see it now. But, there is honor and reason for pride in working hard.
The car may die tomorrow (personally I'm REALLY hoping it'll stay alive for another few years), but even if it does it can go to it's final rest knowing it's owners got their money's worth; for sure.
Tabitha had, in the preceding months, driven her mid-80s era white Pontiac Grand Am to the point that the poor creature literally tossed a push rod out of the bottom of it's engine, through the oil pan, flinging the abused piece of metal down I-20/59 between Birmingham and Tuscaloosa in a trail of brilliant orange sparks. The car was as dead as one can be (though, incidentally, it was later resurrected by it's next owner who dropped a refurbished engine in; I wonder if it's still on the road somewhere, even now?)
As you can imagine, Tabitha's lack of a car was a problem. So, the saga continued when Tabitha's father acquired a used late 80s BMW from a relative. That would have been fine, but THAT poor beast needed a new controller computer for the electrical system. Without warning (and with a knack for choosing in-opportune times), it's computer chip would overheat, causing the electrical system (and thus the engine, starter, and ... everything, really) to cease functioning. The solution was to jump out, pop the hood, and take the positive terminal off the battery. It would have been possible to repair the offending piece, but the drawback to owning a car, like a BMW, which tends to keep its value over the years, is that it's also prohibitively expensive to buy the parts and find someone with enough skill and expertise to work on it. The second or third time Tabitha performed this operation in the middle of the road she'd had enough.
So, when Tabitha and her father wandered over to the used car section at Tuscaloosa Toyota and found a model 2002 Toyota Sebring (light blue, no bells or whistles) she fell in love and within a day she'd settled with the dealership for a ten year loan (a loan that was paid off ahead of time).
Let's face it, the venerable Chrysler name doesn't mean what it used to. I haven't been able to keep track of who owns the Chrysler name these days, but back then Dodge owned it. And if you put a 2002 Dodge Stratus next to a 2002 Chrysler Sebring you will have to squint REAL hard to determine which is which. They are the same car with different maker emblems and a few nicer plastic components inside the Sebring.
That said, when the transmission broke into a pile of grinding gear teeth at around the 60,000 mile mark, we actually weren't too surprised. Tabitha's dad had had enough forethought (I think he would have preferred Tabitha get something else) to purchase a power train warranty from the dealership. (Incidentally, when the repair man showed us the $1500 repair price tag he asked, weren't we glad we decided to buy the warranty. One the one hand, yes, but of course, on the other, I'd already figured that over the lifetime of the warranty the transmission could have died in exactly the same fashion twice more before the dealership began to lose money. Luckily(?) that didn't happen.)
Furthermore, when the timing belt broke on the Interstate near Morristown, Tn with Tabitha and I on our way to celebrate Christmas in Alabama three years ago we were extremely inconvenienced and put under a bit of a monetary strain, but we weren't terribly surprised when all was said and done. (Incidentally, the Sebring has what's called an "interference engine" design, where the valve head and the piston head partially occupy the same space inside the engine as they slide back and forth. Ideally, they never touch, but when the timing belt breaks going down the road at 70 mph, things start to get dicey. By some stroke of luck, the life of the engine itself didn't die three years ago as it could have if the valve and piston had knocked in to one another).
So, with all of this, why am I calling this post an "ode" (ignoring the fact that there's not a lyrical verse to be found in the whole post)? Because I've come to see that car as a a survivor. I've been driving the old car full-time for almost two years now. I've spilled battery acid in it's trunk, I barely ever wash the thing, it needs new tires ever more desperately. It long ago lost, one by one, all four of it's fancy (plastic) Chrysler hub-caps and has steadfastly refused to wear any cheap replacements. It's headlights are cloudy and it's paint is fading. It leaks oil and leaks steering fluid, but it gets me reliably where I'm going.
This week, I've loaded it down repeatedly (probably ten times so far) to take our stuff to our new house. It's living a third life as a work horse for us.
It's silly to personify machines. Nevertheless, the other day I was thinking that, as it rolled off the assembly line and was slapped with the name Chrysler it never imagined it would have such a hard life. Probably, all it's Chrysler buddies would make fun of it if they could see it now. But, there is honor and reason for pride in working hard.
The car may die tomorrow (personally I'm REALLY hoping it'll stay alive for another few years), but even if it does it can go to it's final rest knowing it's owners got their money's worth; for sure.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Uniformed Complications
Tabitha, Oliver and I were at Lowe's last night because we decided to get a new washer and dryer for our new place and we wanted to celebrate the memory of our victorious Union troops in that most American way, spending money.
I feel a special flavor of ambivalence reserved for twice a year; Memorial Day and Veteran's Day. On the one hand, when I think of my Grandfather serving in World War II and Korea, called to service to truly make a sacrifice with no expectation of reward or recompense except in the opportunity to protect a way of life and liberty not just for himself and his family, but for me and mine; I feel absolutely nothing but reverence for that.
Further back in history the picture gets hazier for me. My Great-Grandfather served in WWI as an ambulance driver, and my Great-Great-Great-Grandfather served in the Alabama 25th Infantry during the War Between the States (it feels more natural to call it that than the "Civil War" when I'm referencing his service). I'm not connected to their motivation or expectations, but I'm happy to believe that they actually made sacrifices without expectation of return and that their motivations were truly admirable. That's true even if, for the case of my GGG-Grandfather, he fought on what I now believe to have been the wrong side. I'm still comfortable with the notion that his actions were a product of his time and slow to judge based on my modern sensibilities. (Lord knows I hope the same from my ancestors 150 years from now).
None of my family members fought in Vietnam, but I still feel for the survivors of that war, and I know that they suffered many injuries, even if they were lucky enough not to suffer physical harm.
But, here's the thing... I'm extremely sceptical of the notion that I should somehow be thankful for those who did serve there. I believe this to be a controversial statement, and I'm certainly open to instruction on the matter, but in this case I'm definitely questioning the group-think that sacrifices made in Vietnam were made "for me" and that I must do my part to thank or otherwise celebrate the individuals who made those sacrifices.
I mostly wish we'd had better statesmen at the time and across history and that we would stop making decisions as a nation that alienate and subjugate entire people-groups with long-term consequences leading again and again inexorably to war.
Of course, this is an oversimplification, but I think less so than the ideology that says "they" (beware the great all-encompassing "them") just hate us for our freedom and "they" want to destroy freedom and prosperity for themselves as well as us and everyone we've ever fought has had it coming somehow. In that light, thank God for our righteous warriors.
No, that doesn't hold up. Our righteous warriors are just a little too debauched; and if they aren't so before war, war will certainly bend them to it.
War is a failure, a catastrophe, a loss. It's not to be celebrated, or anticipated. I'll not go so far as to say that it must (or can) always be avoided at every cost; I believe you may sometimes be called upon to stand for what is right in the world against what is wrong when the proponents of the wrong have given you absolutely no choice.
As for the draftee servicemen (victims, I'd almost like to say) I'm more sorry that that happened to you than I am grateful for your service. What's more, I think the character of a person who answers the call of his or her country is to be celebrated.
That said, if you knowingly balance your options and make the decision, with eyes wide open to what tasks you may be required to perform; and you do this with full knowledge and expectation that you will be rewarded with certain federally guaranteed perks upon completion and during the execution of your service, then I wonder if it could be said that when you're called to war that you've actually made any sacrifice at all. I suppose we need soldiers, but I know we need teachers too, why should we beatify the one career choice, and largely deride (at least it seems of late) the other.
It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth to see in the commercial montages over this last Memorial day with clips from a 1940s raging battle on one God-forsaken Pacific island or another along side clips of fully equipped soldiers in modern desert cammo heading to a waiting Chinook helicopter.
You say you were shot at too? You say you were injured? You were compelled to go to a place you didn't want and leave your family behind to an uncertain future? You were permanently injured and suffered physical and emotional damage you will never be able to escape? Yep. That sucks. Why did you do that to yourself? You didn't do it for my benefit, I'll tell you that. I wish you'd been able to stay home too, I'm sorry you didn't.
At the graduation ceremony last week the brand new R.O.T.C. program at UVa-Wise commissioned it's very first officer (as a 2nd Lt in the army). It was made in to a very big deal. The graduation of one individual graduate dominated the stage for ten minutes and arrested the progression of the ceremony entirely.
I believe that individual had been required to prove his character and mettle but all I could think was, please don't get him killed and why should such a promising you man be put in a situation where he will likely be required to kill for questionable reasons a person whom he's never met, and be shot at or blown apart by people who've never met him. Are there no better uses for our best and brightest than to be compelled to act as some other man demands it.
I feel a special flavor of ambivalence reserved for twice a year; Memorial Day and Veteran's Day. On the one hand, when I think of my Grandfather serving in World War II and Korea, called to service to truly make a sacrifice with no expectation of reward or recompense except in the opportunity to protect a way of life and liberty not just for himself and his family, but for me and mine; I feel absolutely nothing but reverence for that.
Further back in history the picture gets hazier for me. My Great-Grandfather served in WWI as an ambulance driver, and my Great-Great-Great-Grandfather served in the Alabama 25th Infantry during the War Between the States (it feels more natural to call it that than the "Civil War" when I'm referencing his service). I'm not connected to their motivation or expectations, but I'm happy to believe that they actually made sacrifices without expectation of return and that their motivations were truly admirable. That's true even if, for the case of my GGG-Grandfather, he fought on what I now believe to have been the wrong side. I'm still comfortable with the notion that his actions were a product of his time and slow to judge based on my modern sensibilities. (Lord knows I hope the same from my ancestors 150 years from now).
None of my family members fought in Vietnam, but I still feel for the survivors of that war, and I know that they suffered many injuries, even if they were lucky enough not to suffer physical harm.
But, here's the thing... I'm extremely sceptical of the notion that I should somehow be thankful for those who did serve there. I believe this to be a controversial statement, and I'm certainly open to instruction on the matter, but in this case I'm definitely questioning the group-think that sacrifices made in Vietnam were made "for me" and that I must do my part to thank or otherwise celebrate the individuals who made those sacrifices.
I mostly wish we'd had better statesmen at the time and across history and that we would stop making decisions as a nation that alienate and subjugate entire people-groups with long-term consequences leading again and again inexorably to war.
Of course, this is an oversimplification, but I think less so than the ideology that says "they" (beware the great all-encompassing "them") just hate us for our freedom and "they" want to destroy freedom and prosperity for themselves as well as us and everyone we've ever fought has had it coming somehow. In that light, thank God for our righteous warriors.
No, that doesn't hold up. Our righteous warriors are just a little too debauched; and if they aren't so before war, war will certainly bend them to it.
War is a failure, a catastrophe, a loss. It's not to be celebrated, or anticipated. I'll not go so far as to say that it must (or can) always be avoided at every cost; I believe you may sometimes be called upon to stand for what is right in the world against what is wrong when the proponents of the wrong have given you absolutely no choice.
As for the draftee servicemen (victims, I'd almost like to say) I'm more sorry that that happened to you than I am grateful for your service. What's more, I think the character of a person who answers the call of his or her country is to be celebrated.
That said, if you knowingly balance your options and make the decision, with eyes wide open to what tasks you may be required to perform; and you do this with full knowledge and expectation that you will be rewarded with certain federally guaranteed perks upon completion and during the execution of your service, then I wonder if it could be said that when you're called to war that you've actually made any sacrifice at all. I suppose we need soldiers, but I know we need teachers too, why should we beatify the one career choice, and largely deride (at least it seems of late) the other.
It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth to see in the commercial montages over this last Memorial day with clips from a 1940s raging battle on one God-forsaken Pacific island or another along side clips of fully equipped soldiers in modern desert cammo heading to a waiting Chinook helicopter.
You say you were shot at too? You say you were injured? You were compelled to go to a place you didn't want and leave your family behind to an uncertain future? You were permanently injured and suffered physical and emotional damage you will never be able to escape? Yep. That sucks. Why did you do that to yourself? You didn't do it for my benefit, I'll tell you that. I wish you'd been able to stay home too, I'm sorry you didn't.
At the graduation ceremony last week the brand new R.O.T.C. program at UVa-Wise commissioned it's very first officer (as a 2nd Lt in the army). It was made in to a very big deal. The graduation of one individual graduate dominated the stage for ten minutes and arrested the progression of the ceremony entirely.
I believe that individual had been required to prove his character and mettle but all I could think was, please don't get him killed and why should such a promising you man be put in a situation where he will likely be required to kill for questionable reasons a person whom he's never met, and be shot at or blown apart by people who've never met him. Are there no better uses for our best and brightest than to be compelled to act as some other man demands it.
Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have set us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!
But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.
I shot him dead because—
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That's clear enough; although
He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand like—just as I—
Was out of work—had sold his traps—
No other reason why.
Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat, if met where any bar is,
Or help to half a crown.
By some old ancient inn,
We should have set us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!
But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.
I shot him dead because—
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That's clear enough; although
He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand like—just as I—
Was out of work—had sold his traps—
No other reason why.
Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat, if met where any bar is,
Or help to half a crown.
The Man He Killed By Thomas Hardy
I have family members and extended family members who have served in the army of late; and I don't mean to offend. But, I can't escape this nagging sense that the glorification of armed service (even the name is misplaced, it seems more like armed employment) doesn't always serve us well.
I just think our leaders and decision makers are more likely to make the right choice if we don't help them foster a culture where we encourage our young men and women to make themselves indentured servants to warfare; to sell their future for a pittance and in pursuit of glory and honor infinitely deferred; an empty promise. We should be teaching our promising young people skepticism and a sense of honor and pride anchored in true service; making the life of other human beings better and more productive; not just more dead.
----------
Oliver is feeling much better. Of course, the worst part of the whole situation was that Oliver never felt bad, at least not until the nurses stabbed him with an I.V. Certainly he needed special medical attention, but you should at least feel bad if you have to be in the hospital. The hardest part for us as parents (and we're very blessed that this was the case, don't get me wrong) was figuring out a way to keep Oliver in the bed for a solid day.
Anyway, all is well now and I thank all of you for your good wishes and happy thoughts sent our way.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Playing the Hurry Up and Wait Game
I've been bad. I haven't posted my Sunday blog yet and it's already Monday afternoon. Forgive me. I have my thoughts for the post outlined, but I worked furiously on the house yesterday trying to finish up the single-room renovation for 10 hours. It seems, nothing is easy when it comes to that sort of thing.
Then, TODAY my son got a swore on his leg. Some running around ensued as a result of this which ended up in the hospital where he's been admitted. It seems the sore is a staph infection which requires hospitalization ... so yeah. I beg your forgiveness for my failure, I hope extenuating circumstances, such as they are, will help me find absolution (they've certainly been good for nothing else).
I'll hopefully be back on schedule soon.
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