Ordering ducks

Get one's ducks in line

Get one's ducks in a row

Get one's ducks in order

What is it with these ducks?  I wrote recently about the title of the book "Carry the One."  But, my favorite passage was this, "She feared for someone--so very like herself at that age--who had all her ducks in order. As if there were any reliable way of ordering ducks."  In life we soon realize that getting our ducks in order might be a hopeless goal, and perhaps we are better off to let our ducks swim freely.

It also made me think about all the ways we could order ducks.  We can line them up in order, we can buy them on-line by ordering them, we can classify them into ordered categories, we can tell them what to do by ordering them around.  

I have grown weary of the phrase "herding cats" which seems to have slipped into popular usage and become a tired and vacuous phrase.  What would happen if we let our herd of cats loose on our row of ducks?  Now that might be fun.


                                                           

Carry the One

                                                    

I just finished reading a book, Carry the One, by Carol Anshaw.  The story involves the unfolding lives of several people in the years following their varied involvement in a fatal car accident. It is a good book, with some deep themes about forgiveness, responsibility, and family relationships.  But, what I want to write about is the mathematical image of "carrying the one."  The title of the book comes from the passage, "There's still this connection...Like in arithmetic. Because of the accident, we're not just separate numbers. When you add us up, you always have to carry the one."  Of course, this refers to the death that all of them carry forward in their lives, but visually I was thinking of how we denote "carry the one" in a mathematical equation--the one is always above the other numbers and smaller, almost an afterthought.  It is there to remind us that we have more to do, more to add, more in the equation than what was first written. It is not as strong or visible as the other numbers, but it is still part of our calculation. It is a device, a notation that we insert to help us in the calculation.

Not long ago I read "The Sense of an Ending," by Julian Barnes.  It is another story that incorporates mathematical images and ideas.  One of which was the question, to what extent is our life multiplicative rather than additive?  What does it mean to have a multiplicative life?  Barnes' main character feels as though he has gone through life merely adding on things, taking on roles, doing what is expected (getting married, having children, working).  In the end, he is unhappy. He feels as if he has contributed little, accomplished little.  How does that differ from a multiplicative life, one in which our acts are multiplied across time and space?  In both addition and multiplication, though, we end up "carrying the one."

What "ones" are we carrying in our lives?  What experiences or consequences become part of our life equation?

Feelings like good wines

I've been thinking of how we describe emotional states and feelings.  It seems like our vocabulary is somewhat limited.  What if we could talk about feelings the way we describe fine wines....

Instead of happy you could be "opulent"--rich, smooth and bold?
Instead of nice, someone would be "crisp"--A crisp wine is most likely simple but goes really well with a porch swing on a hot day.  What  a great way to describe a friend...

Of course, on bad days you could feel "flabby" or "minerally"---Imagine the smell of fresh wet concrete; now imagine that flavor in your mouth.  What a great way to describe a bad day....like licking wet concrete!

We could be "bright,"  "big," or "flamboyant" in our feelings.  

Some days our feelings may be complex...velvety with a hint of sadness but a finish of peace. 

Binders full of women

Interesting debate...Glad I wasn't asked to moderate. Wow.
But, really, "binders full of women"?  Flexible hours so women can go home and cook dinner?  Where is this guy living?

Still, I wanted to collect these comments before they disappeared....

"Binders full of women cost 77 cents, while binders full of men cost $1."


"All those binders full of women explain why there was no room in the car for the dog."

"I wonder if I am in a binder full of women somewhere...."   "And I thought having a little black book was pretty good. This guy's got binders."

"Why did the phrase resonate? Because it was tone deaf, condescending and out of touch with the actual economic issues that women are so bothered about. The phrase objectified and dehumanized women. It played right into the perception that so many women have feared about a Romney administration – that a president Romney would be sexist and set women back."











http://youtu.be/qqMpANK_S78

A Poverty of Words

Today's newspaper carried an article about language deficiencies in elementary school children in New York City. I had heard these statistics before, but am always amazed by them. The article summarizes research showing, "Children of professionals were, on average, exposed to approximately 1,500 more words hourly than children growing up in poverty. This resulted in a gap of more than 32 million words by the time the children reached the age of 4."   I remember being given the advice as a new mother that the best thing I could do for my kids was to talk to them.  An elementary school teacher in our rural area once told me that she had trouble explaining the term "escalator" to some of her students.  I once had to explain what an "apartment building" was to my own son. 

The import of this really hit me last week when I gave an exam in my college research methods course. I had several students ask me to define the words, "ambivalence," "frail," and "implications."  I'm glad they asked, but it showed me the barriers that students face long after elementary school.


http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/07/nyregion/for-poor-schoolchildren-a-poverty-of-words.html?smid=pl-share

Negative capability

Today I was reading a story in the newspaper about a group of women dealing with cancer who meet together for support.  One of the women said of the group, "We strive for the condition of consciousness that the Romantic poet John Keats called 'negative capability,' the psychological state of residing in 'benign uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.'"  I had never heard of the term "negative capability" before, but was intrigued by the notion.  So much of life is uncertain, mysterious, and filled with doubt, yet, we often try to bring some reason and sense to what is happening.  Maybe that is the wrong approach, maybe we need to accept the uncertainty.  If we stop this "irritable reaching" maybe we will be happier. This seems very Buddhist to me. 

Feeling like I didn't have a good handle on all the things "Romanticism" meant, I did a little research (I looked on Wikipedia).  Romanticism was, in part, a reaction to scientific rationalization and included a greater appreciation of the natural world and emotions.  The people of the early 1800s were reacting to the Industrial Revolution and all the social changes associated with that dramatic shift in life. In sociology, we talk about this same period as the time in which scientific ideas were being applied to social problems, creating the field of sociology. Sociologists were moving in the opposite direction of the romantics, I suppose.

I'm thinking a little more of a Romantic perspective might be good in life.

Falling into Fall

I'll say right at the beginning, summer is my least favorite season. I don't like hot weather, humidity, or bugs. I don't like going from air conditioning to hot air and back again. I don't like feeling sweaty and sticky.  I don't like summer.

So, it will come as no surprise that I am happy to see fall weather arriving in Central New York. Today I had a chance to take a short walk in my second favorite place, Pratt's Falls Park (the first being the Indiana Dunes). The leaves are starting to turn color, they are falling, the air is crisper, the leaves are crunchier. I guess some people see autumn as a season for decay, a time of loss, a season of darker days and colder nights.  But I like to think of it as a time for gathering up, for resting, for turning inward. Fall reminds me of curling up in front of a fire with a good book and a nice mug of hot tea.  It is a comforting season with its own unique smells and colors. Autumn is the time to rest before the exhilaration the cold weather of winter brings.

I like wearing sweaters (and if you don't have a season for donning sweaters you don't get a season for enjoying shedding them!)  Autumn is just the right temperature. You can warm up easily and you don't sweat.    Fall smells good--leaves, wood smoke, apples--the rich earthy smells you miss in the winter when the snow falls. Fall looks good--the reds and golds, even the shades of brown, bring a new look to the woods and hillsides.

Fall is a time for change. For turning over new leaves. For going down new paths. For gathering and resting. For pausing a moment before falling into the challenges of winter.