There's been a good amount of buzz regarding the recent translation into English of the only known copy of the Gospel of Judas. This event was heralded as providing new insight into Christianity, particularly early Christianity. Since I'm a Christian, I tend to be cautious about new insights into Christianity, believing as I do that the insights that have been around for the last 2,000 years are quite adequate. Still, if someone insists upon talking at me about these new insights, it's only common courtesy that I inform myself about what they're talking about, so I found a copy of the translation online, downloaded it, and read it.
I now offer my view of it: It's typical of Gnosticism, which makes it fundamentally contrary to Christian belief. I'm in good company here, since in about 180 AD Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyon, discussed this very document, referring to it as a fictional account. The premise of the Gnostic gospels I have some familiarity with is that Jesus took the person for whom the gospel is named aside and imparted to him or her information that wasn't offered to the other Apostles. The Gnostic gospel then supposedly reveals this secret information which is supposed to be only for the inner circle.
Horsefeathers.
First of all, Christianity is an open book, open to all. The Church was at its very lowest during those times in history when it attempted to limit popular access to the basic tenets of Christianity, for instance in insisting that Scripture only be available in Latin when only priests could read Latin. Christianity is no mystery religion. Anything you could want to know about the official beliefs of the Church is available to you, go to your nearest bookstore and buy a Bible. Even the traditional interpretations of Scripture are freely available, for the Roman Catholic Church in the Catechism, for the Anglican Church in the Book of Common Prayer, and in similar texts for other denominations.
Secondly, and perhaps more tellingly, there's the issue of the overall availabilty of this "new" gospel. Some scholars are insisting that Gnosticism was as widely practiced in the early Church as Orthodox Christianity. If that were true there should be many more copies of the Gospel of Judas in existence. If it were that widely circulated and followed it wouldn't be all but lost. Perhaps you believe that the Church prevented the desemination of this document? If Gnosticism was an important branch of Christianity it would have flourished anyway, Christianity itself was illegal for the first four centuries of its existence but the documents which make up the New Testament survived. Even the Roman Catholic Church at the height of its power, during the Inquisition, couldn't stamp out the Protestant Reformation but ultimately had to recognize Protestantism as another form of Christianity. Even today Christianity survives, even thrives, in places like China and the Middle East where Christian practice is a punishable offense, sometimes even a capital offense.
Thirdly, the basic doctrine behind Gnosticism is fundamentally opposed to Christian doctrine. Gnosticism teaches that humans are spiritual beings trapped in physical bodies, that the physical world is evil at worst and irrelevant at best. Therefore Jesus could not have been fully human and fully Divine and the Ressurection (THE central event in Christianity) could never have occurred.
Gnosticism wasn't just another branch of Christianity that was stamped out by the early Church, it's a belief that was found to be opposed to the most basic doctrines of Christianity and was therefore rejected. Christ doesn't offer anything to some followers and not to others. He doesn't take some followers aside to whisper mysteries in their ears that the rest of the world isn't privvy to. What He offers He offers to everyone.
The four Canonical Gospels (those found in the Bible) are in agreement regarding the central concepts of Christian doctrine. Yes, there are differences in detail and emphasis, as you would expect on reading four accounts of the same events written by four different people and also written with four different communities of Christians as the intended audience (for instance, Matthew appears to have been written with Christians who were formerly Jews in mind, while Luke appears to have been written for Pagan converts). The important doctrines, that Jesus lived at a certain time in history, that He taught and performed miracles, that He was crucified, that He died, and that He rose from the dead are all found in all four Gospels.
Just because a document is refered to as a "gospel" and it deals with events in the life of Jesus doesn't mean it gives insight into Christianity. Someone could write a fictional account (the very term used by Irenaeus whom I mention above) of the life of Abraham Lincoln, that doesn't offer insight into America during the Civil War.
If you want to know about the life of Jesus read the four canonical Gospels. Treat the doctrines found in the other gospels as beliefs that were tried by the early church and were found wanting.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Success and Failure
If you've read my previous posts you know that I consider America to be the best place in the world to live in. One thing that separates us from other nations is the ability it gives people to succeed. Let me offer an example. You've probably seen the TV show American Idol, or at least heard of it. People compete on this show for an opportunity to become a pop-music star, with a record contract and all the trimmings. Everyone who auditions does so with dreams of success. Some people back those dreams with considerable talent, others with much less. Still, anyone who shows up can audition. I could audition, and I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. If I were to show up to audition I wouldn't be turned away because my parents weren't singers, or because I didn't study singing at the right school. I'd be sent away because I don't sing well. I'd fail, but the only thing standing between me and success would be my own ability.
Some societies force people to be mediocre, to stay as close as possible to the average. People in such societies are forced into a washed-out pastel existence on a faded great background. There are few failures and just as few successes.
We, on the other hand, reward success and we give people the chance to succeed. That chance to succeed is also the chance to fail, because you can't succeed if you don't risk failure. We give people buckets of vibrant, brightly colored paint and a pure white canvas to paint on. Sometimes the results are beautiful, sometimes terrible, but seldom dull and lifeless.
If you want to understand our typically American attitude toward success you could do worse than to read some things that Thomas A. Edison said on the topic. Edison was, of course, one of the most successful inventors in America (which tends to make him one of the most successful inventors in the entire world). He describes success as one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration. He said at one point that he hadn't failed, he merely found ten thousand ways to do something that didn't work. He said he knew five thousand ways NOT to build a light bulb. Perhaps most poigantly, he said that most people fail because they didn't realize how close they were to success when they stopped trying.
Once you've eliminated actual barriers to success (for instance Michael Jordan could NEVER be a great jockey no matter how hard he tried) the rest comes down to ability and hard work. If you want to succeed at something, if you have the basic ability to do it, and if you have the will to work hard enough to make it happen you can do so. If that's not a recommendation for the way we do things I don't know what is.
Some societies force people to be mediocre, to stay as close as possible to the average. People in such societies are forced into a washed-out pastel existence on a faded great background. There are few failures and just as few successes.
We, on the other hand, reward success and we give people the chance to succeed. That chance to succeed is also the chance to fail, because you can't succeed if you don't risk failure. We give people buckets of vibrant, brightly colored paint and a pure white canvas to paint on. Sometimes the results are beautiful, sometimes terrible, but seldom dull and lifeless.
If you want to understand our typically American attitude toward success you could do worse than to read some things that Thomas A. Edison said on the topic. Edison was, of course, one of the most successful inventors in America (which tends to make him one of the most successful inventors in the entire world). He describes success as one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration. He said at one point that he hadn't failed, he merely found ten thousand ways to do something that didn't work. He said he knew five thousand ways NOT to build a light bulb. Perhaps most poigantly, he said that most people fail because they didn't realize how close they were to success when they stopped trying.
Once you've eliminated actual barriers to success (for instance Michael Jordan could NEVER be a great jockey no matter how hard he tried) the rest comes down to ability and hard work. If you want to succeed at something, if you have the basic ability to do it, and if you have the will to work hard enough to make it happen you can do so. If that's not a recommendation for the way we do things I don't know what is.
Friday, March 10, 2006
The Dubai Ports Deal
I don't normally comment too much on current events, especially current political events, but I'll make an exception here.
If you haven't been paying attention, there was a proposal to turn over control of a number of major American shipping ports to a company run by the government of the United Arab Emerites (UAE). This caused concern for a great many people (yours truly included) due to the possibility of a large-scale weapon entering the port in a shipping container. Opposition to this was pretty much bi-partisan, except that the president supported the deal. Now, I thought I had our president pretty-well figured out, whatever else he is or isn't he's tough on terrorism. His support for this deal amazed me, I just couldn't understand it.
I'm not a big fan of conspiracy theories. If your only proof for something is that it might have happened and no one can prove it didn't, well frankly that's just not good enough for me. I also think that GWB, whatever his flaws, has a deep love for America and doesn't want to see it harmed. (If you don't believe this, you may as well click to another site now.) So I'm left with the conclusion that the Dubai deal wasn't a bad thing for the nation, but I just couldn't see how that could be. When I read that President Bush had "bowed to the pressure of Republican lawmakers to call off the deal" it hit me. The answer is politics.
No one in the White House is going any further. President Bush can't run again. VP Cheney will probably retire at the end of his term (if not bef0re). They have nothing to lose by taking an unpopular stance, approval ratings for the President and Vice President are completely meaningless. However, the mid-term elections are coming up, a number of Congressmen and Senators are coming up for re-election. If the President takes an unpopular stand that allows those lawmakers coming up for re-election to take a popular stand, and not long before the 2006 elections. I don't think this deal was ever meant to go thru, but the opposition had to come from people who could benefit from it.
So President Bush takes one for the team, it doesn't do him any harm, and it gives his fellow Republican lawmakers the opportunity to look good, to apparently go against the President, and to come out as being tough on terrorism. Democrats, on the other hand, had to take a calculated stand since this is the same party that opposes racial profiling, and opposition to the ports deal looks an awful lot like racial profiling.
If I'm right about this (and I'll probably never find out for sure) this was a politically brilliant move, let people who have nothing to lose be unpopular, let your own folks take a popular stand, and let the other side have to decide which group of constituents to alienate. Like I said, brilliant.
If you haven't been paying attention, there was a proposal to turn over control of a number of major American shipping ports to a company run by the government of the United Arab Emerites (UAE). This caused concern for a great many people (yours truly included) due to the possibility of a large-scale weapon entering the port in a shipping container. Opposition to this was pretty much bi-partisan, except that the president supported the deal. Now, I thought I had our president pretty-well figured out, whatever else he is or isn't he's tough on terrorism. His support for this deal amazed me, I just couldn't understand it.
I'm not a big fan of conspiracy theories. If your only proof for something is that it might have happened and no one can prove it didn't, well frankly that's just not good enough for me. I also think that GWB, whatever his flaws, has a deep love for America and doesn't want to see it harmed. (If you don't believe this, you may as well click to another site now.) So I'm left with the conclusion that the Dubai deal wasn't a bad thing for the nation, but I just couldn't see how that could be. When I read that President Bush had "bowed to the pressure of Republican lawmakers to call off the deal" it hit me. The answer is politics.
No one in the White House is going any further. President Bush can't run again. VP Cheney will probably retire at the end of his term (if not bef0re). They have nothing to lose by taking an unpopular stance, approval ratings for the President and Vice President are completely meaningless. However, the mid-term elections are coming up, a number of Congressmen and Senators are coming up for re-election. If the President takes an unpopular stand that allows those lawmakers coming up for re-election to take a popular stand, and not long before the 2006 elections. I don't think this deal was ever meant to go thru, but the opposition had to come from people who could benefit from it.
So President Bush takes one for the team, it doesn't do him any harm, and it gives his fellow Republican lawmakers the opportunity to look good, to apparently go against the President, and to come out as being tough on terrorism. Democrats, on the other hand, had to take a calculated stand since this is the same party that opposes racial profiling, and opposition to the ports deal looks an awful lot like racial profiling.
If I'm right about this (and I'll probably never find out for sure) this was a politically brilliant move, let people who have nothing to lose be unpopular, let your own folks take a popular stand, and let the other side have to decide which group of constituents to alienate. Like I said, brilliant.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
God and Free Will
This entry grew as a side-issue to part 2 of my Science and Faith entry which I'm still laboring at. If nothing else my labors there have provided ideas for more entries.
If you believe in God you've probably encountered the argument, advanced by someone trying to convince you of the non-existence of God, that belief in God is incompatible with belief in free will. The argument usually goes something like "Does God know everything" to you which you reply "Yes". "So God knows what you're going to do tomorrow?" "Yes" "Therefore you don't have free will, since what you're going to do has already been determined! You either have free will and God doesn't exist, or God exists and controls everything you do!"
In Einstein's view of the universe time is a dimension, just like the three dimensions of space. You understand this in a practical sense too, when you're approaching a road intersection you don't worry about whether a car went thru the intersection ten minutes ago, or whether one will go thru ten minutes from now, you concern yourself with whether another car will be in the intersection at the same time your car is because that's what causes a traffic accident.
Let's assume that you have free will. You carry a chair into a house and, using your free will, you place it someplace in the three-dimensional space within that house. I walk in afterward and observe where you've placed the chair. Does my observation of where you placed the chair mean that you didn't exercise free will in placing it there? People are capable of moving around in three-dimensional space fairly freely, but we can only move thru the fourth dimension of time in one direction, from past to future, and we MUST move thru it, we can't make it stand still.
God, on the other hand, is an Eternal Being. That doesn't just mean He lives for a very long time, or even an infinite time. It means He exists OUTSIDE of time. He can move freely thru the dimension of time as easily as we move thru the three dimensions of space. He can look forward in time as far as He wishes to see what happens. As a matter of fact if He wants to know what I'll do tomorrow He MUST look forward in time to see what I'll do, since because I have free will the only way He can find out is thru observation.
If I may be permitted a digression, this ability of God to move thru time as He wishes has ramifications in our prayer life. Suppose someone I care for is scheduled to have surgery at 2:00 in the afternoon. I decide that at lunch time that day I'll find a quite place to pray for a successful operation, so at noon I leave my office where I'm likely to be distracted and go to my chosen place to pray. When I return I have a voice mail telling the that early that morning the surgery was rescheduled to 9:00 am and was over even before I began to pray. Was my prayer wasted? It was not, because God could move ahead to noontime to hear my prayer, then move back to 9:00 to apply my prayers to the surgery.
Free will is an essential aspect of our relationship with God. The only way we can love someone is to be free not to, that goes for each other, and it goes for us loving God too. There have been plenty of movies made about what happens when someone gives someone else a love potion, it's generally unsatisfying for the person who gave the potion precisely because the other person wasn't free not to fall in love. If you look around you'll see a great many people who have no love for God. That's the price God is willing to pay in order that some people will love Him freely.
If you believe in God you've probably encountered the argument, advanced by someone trying to convince you of the non-existence of God, that belief in God is incompatible with belief in free will. The argument usually goes something like "Does God know everything" to you which you reply "Yes". "So God knows what you're going to do tomorrow?" "Yes" "Therefore you don't have free will, since what you're going to do has already been determined! You either have free will and God doesn't exist, or God exists and controls everything you do!"
In Einstein's view of the universe time is a dimension, just like the three dimensions of space. You understand this in a practical sense too, when you're approaching a road intersection you don't worry about whether a car went thru the intersection ten minutes ago, or whether one will go thru ten minutes from now, you concern yourself with whether another car will be in the intersection at the same time your car is because that's what causes a traffic accident.
Let's assume that you have free will. You carry a chair into a house and, using your free will, you place it someplace in the three-dimensional space within that house. I walk in afterward and observe where you've placed the chair. Does my observation of where you placed the chair mean that you didn't exercise free will in placing it there? People are capable of moving around in three-dimensional space fairly freely, but we can only move thru the fourth dimension of time in one direction, from past to future, and we MUST move thru it, we can't make it stand still.
God, on the other hand, is an Eternal Being. That doesn't just mean He lives for a very long time, or even an infinite time. It means He exists OUTSIDE of time. He can move freely thru the dimension of time as easily as we move thru the three dimensions of space. He can look forward in time as far as He wishes to see what happens. As a matter of fact if He wants to know what I'll do tomorrow He MUST look forward in time to see what I'll do, since because I have free will the only way He can find out is thru observation.
If I may be permitted a digression, this ability of God to move thru time as He wishes has ramifications in our prayer life. Suppose someone I care for is scheduled to have surgery at 2:00 in the afternoon. I decide that at lunch time that day I'll find a quite place to pray for a successful operation, so at noon I leave my office where I'm likely to be distracted and go to my chosen place to pray. When I return I have a voice mail telling the that early that morning the surgery was rescheduled to 9:00 am and was over even before I began to pray. Was my prayer wasted? It was not, because God could move ahead to noontime to hear my prayer, then move back to 9:00 to apply my prayers to the surgery.
Free will is an essential aspect of our relationship with God. The only way we can love someone is to be free not to, that goes for each other, and it goes for us loving God too. There have been plenty of movies made about what happens when someone gives someone else a love potion, it's generally unsatisfying for the person who gave the potion precisely because the other person wasn't free not to fall in love. If you look around you'll see a great many people who have no love for God. That's the price God is willing to pay in order that some people will love Him freely.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Who Says You Can't Train Cats?
Since I'm struggling with part 2 of my Science and Faith entry, I thought I'd post a little comic relief.
My wife and I are jointly owned by three cats, all of which I brought to the marriage. We generally keep the family-room furniture covered with old sheets to keep the fur off, and uncover it when we have company. The cats have learned too, when the furniture is covered they can go up on it, when it's not they can't, so when the covers are off they tend to stay off.
Last Saturday my wife had a luncheon for a few women she works with. I was going to try out the rifle I got for Christmas, but it was too cold so I did what any red-blooded American male would do when confronted with a house full of women, I stayed at my workbench in the basement working on my model trains. So anyway, off came the sheets from the funiture, so the cats stayed off. Then my wife put a tablecloth on the dining-room table, a nice dark brownish-red one, at which point Snoball (guess what color she is!) realized that the table was covered so it must be OK for her to go up there. My wife described her as lounging in the middle of the table. Since none of the cats generally go up on the table, we decided she must have thought it was OK because there was a cover on it.
It's hard to be too upset when they're following the rules as they understand them.
My wife and I are jointly owned by three cats, all of which I brought to the marriage. We generally keep the family-room furniture covered with old sheets to keep the fur off, and uncover it when we have company. The cats have learned too, when the furniture is covered they can go up on it, when it's not they can't, so when the covers are off they tend to stay off.
Last Saturday my wife had a luncheon for a few women she works with. I was going to try out the rifle I got for Christmas, but it was too cold so I did what any red-blooded American male would do when confronted with a house full of women, I stayed at my workbench in the basement working on my model trains. So anyway, off came the sheets from the funiture, so the cats stayed off. Then my wife put a tablecloth on the dining-room table, a nice dark brownish-red one, at which point Snoball (guess what color she is!) realized that the table was covered so it must be OK for her to go up there. My wife described her as lounging in the middle of the table. Since none of the cats generally go up on the table, we decided she must have thought it was OK because there was a cover on it.
It's hard to be too upset when they're following the rules as they understand them.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Science and Faith - Part 1
For those of you who don’t know me well (which is about two-thirds of my regular readers, the other third being my wife) I’m a Christian. I’m also quite well versed in the “hard” sciences (physics, astronomy, geology, some biology, and a little chemistry). Some people find it hard to rationalize faith with science. I believe this inability is a direct result of a misunderstanding of science.
Science deals exclusively with what can be consistently measured in the universe. If it can’t be seen and measured it doesn’t belong in the realm of science. If someone else, following the same procedure as I do, can’t get the same results as I did it’s not science.
Modern people don’t understand how radical the scientific method was when it was first proposed. I’ve read that at one time mathematicians were debating at length over whether the weight of an object had any effect on how fast it would fall under gravity. Some argued that the acceleration of gravity was independent of mass, some argued that a heavier object would fall faster. Then a man by the name of Galileo did something that was so completely unheard of that the mathematicians must have gaped in wonder, he actually took two iron balls, one considerably heavier than the other, to the top of the Tower of Pisa, and dropped them to see what would happen. I’ve personally seen similar tests done in Physics classrooms, and the results were always the same as what Galileo got, the two objects hit the ground at the same time. (Interestingly, one of the astronauts who landed on the moon brought a hammer and a feather with him and dropped them. In the absense of air the hammer and feather hit the ground at the same time too.)
Let’s set up a simple experiment to use as an example. Let’s say I am going to take a marble and drop it from the roof of my house and measure how long it takes to hit the ground. So I need a marble, and a stop watch and my house. I can use a tape measure to determine how high the marble will be when I drop it, and I can calculate how long it should take to hit the ground. I can then use a stop-watch to measure how long it actually does take. I ignore anything that doesn’t affect the outcome of the experiment, I don’t care what color the marble is or what day of the week it is. So I climb up on the roof, drop my marble, and a seagull swoops down, grabs the marble in mid-air, and carries it away. He drops the marble ten minutes later, at which point it hits the ground. Do I claim that it took the marble ten minutes to hit the ground? I do not, because the seagull wasn’t part of the experiment.
Pay attention now, this is important. If I perform this experiment a hundred times, or a thousand, or a million, and hundreds of other people perform exactly the same experiment thousands or millions more times, and in no case does a seagull swoop down and grab the marble, does that disprove the existence of seagulls? It does not, for exactly the same reason, seagulls aren’t part of what we’re measuring.
Science, by definition, is repeatable, it deals with the general case. Science can say that, given a set of conditions (for instance height from which the marble is dropped) we expect a certain set of results (time to hit the ground). If something else comes into the system (like a seagull) the results are unusable.
So, the science of medicine can tell us that if a person has a particular disease he or she will probably die within a certain amount of time. Medicine can tell us that there is no known cure for such a disease. Then God can swoop in and perform a miracle and heal the person. This doesn’t discount the value of medical science, nor do people who are not healed miraculously disprove the existence of God. God exists outside of our universe, He is unpredictable (God works in mysterious ways) so His actions cannot be accounted for in science.
This is part one of this topic, where I’m trying to lay some groundwork. In part two I intend to deal with some issues where faith and science collide and hopefully make some sense of the issues. If you have any such issues you'd like to see discussed let me know in the comments.
Science deals exclusively with what can be consistently measured in the universe. If it can’t be seen and measured it doesn’t belong in the realm of science. If someone else, following the same procedure as I do, can’t get the same results as I did it’s not science.
Modern people don’t understand how radical the scientific method was when it was first proposed. I’ve read that at one time mathematicians were debating at length over whether the weight of an object had any effect on how fast it would fall under gravity. Some argued that the acceleration of gravity was independent of mass, some argued that a heavier object would fall faster. Then a man by the name of Galileo did something that was so completely unheard of that the mathematicians must have gaped in wonder, he actually took two iron balls, one considerably heavier than the other, to the top of the Tower of Pisa, and dropped them to see what would happen. I’ve personally seen similar tests done in Physics classrooms, and the results were always the same as what Galileo got, the two objects hit the ground at the same time. (Interestingly, one of the astronauts who landed on the moon brought a hammer and a feather with him and dropped them. In the absense of air the hammer and feather hit the ground at the same time too.)
Let’s set up a simple experiment to use as an example. Let’s say I am going to take a marble and drop it from the roof of my house and measure how long it takes to hit the ground. So I need a marble, and a stop watch and my house. I can use a tape measure to determine how high the marble will be when I drop it, and I can calculate how long it should take to hit the ground. I can then use a stop-watch to measure how long it actually does take. I ignore anything that doesn’t affect the outcome of the experiment, I don’t care what color the marble is or what day of the week it is. So I climb up on the roof, drop my marble, and a seagull swoops down, grabs the marble in mid-air, and carries it away. He drops the marble ten minutes later, at which point it hits the ground. Do I claim that it took the marble ten minutes to hit the ground? I do not, because the seagull wasn’t part of the experiment.
Pay attention now, this is important. If I perform this experiment a hundred times, or a thousand, or a million, and hundreds of other people perform exactly the same experiment thousands or millions more times, and in no case does a seagull swoop down and grab the marble, does that disprove the existence of seagulls? It does not, for exactly the same reason, seagulls aren’t part of what we’re measuring.
Science, by definition, is repeatable, it deals with the general case. Science can say that, given a set of conditions (for instance height from which the marble is dropped) we expect a certain set of results (time to hit the ground). If something else comes into the system (like a seagull) the results are unusable.
So, the science of medicine can tell us that if a person has a particular disease he or she will probably die within a certain amount of time. Medicine can tell us that there is no known cure for such a disease. Then God can swoop in and perform a miracle and heal the person. This doesn’t discount the value of medical science, nor do people who are not healed miraculously disprove the existence of God. God exists outside of our universe, He is unpredictable (God works in mysterious ways) so His actions cannot be accounted for in science.
This is part one of this topic, where I’m trying to lay some groundwork. In part two I intend to deal with some issues where faith and science collide and hopefully make some sense of the issues. If you have any such issues you'd like to see discussed let me know in the comments.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Random Snowy Thoughts
The area I live in (Bergen County, NJ) got nailed by a good old fashioned Nor'Easter over the weekend that dumped a couple feet of snow on us. Nearby NYC recorded the largest single-storm snowfall ever recorded, almost 29 inches (although I was sure there was one ten or so years ago that topped 30 inches). I spent a good part of my day yesterday moving snow around, shovelling out the cars, clearing the sidewalks (and since I live on a corner I have twice as much sidewalk as my neighbors), and raking snow off part of the roof that's got a mild pitch so it tends to form ice dams. Advil is my friend today.
Since this is a rant outlet for me: The town Department of Public Works (DPW) is responsible for plowing, salting, sanding, etc. Since I live on a small side-street I don't expect to get plowed early. We finally got a plow Sunday afternoon, and only then did I go out and finish clearing the driveway. An hour or so later DPW sent another plow that actually left the road looking worse than it did before, and of course plugged up my driveway again. I did get a little lucky though, on the side of my house the plows often run right along the curb and throw the snow up onto my sidewalk.
The snow in NYC where I work is the usual post-snowstorm color, a brownish grey sludge. Anyone who describes someone as "pure as the driven snow" has never seen snow that's been driven over.
I've noticed that the ability of an individual to drive in snow decreased with the size of their SUV. Hint: Four-wheel-drive won't help your two-ton monster stop, so please don't drive 75 mph when the road is snow covered. Someone I care about may be in the car you ram into.
Whenever we have a snowfall like this I wonder if it would be a good idea to buy a snow-blower. The only problem is that I'm terminally cheap, and snow blowers in the price range I'd be willing to pay only handle up to eight or ten inches of snow. Honestly, I can generally handle that much snow with my shovel. I can't see spending $1,000 or so on something I'll probably only really need every two or three years.
I'm fairly handy, mechanically. I used to work with a guy who was, to say the least, not mechanically inclined. He decided to buy a snow-blower, so he sought my advice. The blower he bought had an electric starter, you'd plug it in, start it, then unplug it and go blow snow. He didn't understand why it also had a pull rope, until I explained that if it stalled at the far end of your property it was probably easier to pull the rope to restart a hot engine than to walk it all the way back to the electrical outlet. He also asked me about the chute on top that directs the snow, asking which way he should point it. I told him that depended on where he wanted the snow to go, left or right. He asked if he could point it straight back, to which I replied "(Name withheld to protect the dopey) you'll be standing there!"
Well, it's supposed to turn warm later in the week. I'm glad we got the basement waterproofed last year, since normally this much snow melting would give us a nice pond in the basement. I'm working on a couple entries that are just about ready.
Since this is a rant outlet for me: The town Department of Public Works (DPW) is responsible for plowing, salting, sanding, etc. Since I live on a small side-street I don't expect to get plowed early. We finally got a plow Sunday afternoon, and only then did I go out and finish clearing the driveway. An hour or so later DPW sent another plow that actually left the road looking worse than it did before, and of course plugged up my driveway again. I did get a little lucky though, on the side of my house the plows often run right along the curb and throw the snow up onto my sidewalk.
The snow in NYC where I work is the usual post-snowstorm color, a brownish grey sludge. Anyone who describes someone as "pure as the driven snow" has never seen snow that's been driven over.
I've noticed that the ability of an individual to drive in snow decreased with the size of their SUV. Hint: Four-wheel-drive won't help your two-ton monster stop, so please don't drive 75 mph when the road is snow covered. Someone I care about may be in the car you ram into.
Whenever we have a snowfall like this I wonder if it would be a good idea to buy a snow-blower. The only problem is that I'm terminally cheap, and snow blowers in the price range I'd be willing to pay only handle up to eight or ten inches of snow. Honestly, I can generally handle that much snow with my shovel. I can't see spending $1,000 or so on something I'll probably only really need every two or three years.
I'm fairly handy, mechanically. I used to work with a guy who was, to say the least, not mechanically inclined. He decided to buy a snow-blower, so he sought my advice. The blower he bought had an electric starter, you'd plug it in, start it, then unplug it and go blow snow. He didn't understand why it also had a pull rope, until I explained that if it stalled at the far end of your property it was probably easier to pull the rope to restart a hot engine than to walk it all the way back to the electrical outlet. He also asked me about the chute on top that directs the snow, asking which way he should point it. I told him that depended on where he wanted the snow to go, left or right. He asked if he could point it straight back, to which I replied "(Name withheld to protect the dopey) you'll be standing there!"
Well, it's supposed to turn warm later in the week. I'm glad we got the basement waterproofed last year, since normally this much snow melting would give us a nice pond in the basement. I'm working on a couple entries that are just about ready.
I've Been Tagged
MorningGlory tagged me with this, and since she's one of my faithful readers I'll do my best:
4 Jobs I Have Held In My Life: College Assistant; Night Adjunct Computer Lab Technician; Computer Programmer; Consultant
4 Places I Have Lived: Mariner's Harbor, Staten Island, NY; West Brighton, Staten Island, NY; Clifton, NJ, River Edge, NJ. Given that I've had a total of five addresses in my entire life, this wasn't easy.
4 TV Shows I Love To Watch: Mail Call; Mythbusters; any NY Jets game; I used to love Junkyard Wars but it doesn't seem to be on anymore
4 Websites I Visit Daily: http://www.boortz.com ; http://www.theothersideofkim.com ; http:// www.railroad-line.com ; http://www.thehighroad.com
4 Favorite Foods: My wife's meatloaf ; steak ; grilled porkchops ; anything chocolate
4 Places I Would Rather Be Right Now: Home; Aruba; Dominica; Norweigian Dawn
4 People I am tagging: Honestly, any blogger I read regularly either already got tagged or wouldn't respond, so I'll just have to pass on this. One of the downsides of being among the last people to get tagged.
4 Jobs I Have Held In My Life: College Assistant; Night Adjunct Computer Lab Technician; Computer Programmer; Consultant
4 Places I Have Lived: Mariner's Harbor, Staten Island, NY; West Brighton, Staten Island, NY; Clifton, NJ, River Edge, NJ. Given that I've had a total of five addresses in my entire life, this wasn't easy.
4 TV Shows I Love To Watch: Mail Call; Mythbusters; any NY Jets game; I used to love Junkyard Wars but it doesn't seem to be on anymore
4 Websites I Visit Daily: http://www.boortz.com ; http://www.theothersideofkim.com ; http:// www.railroad-line.com ; http://www.thehighroad.com
4 Favorite Foods: My wife's meatloaf ; steak ; grilled porkchops ; anything chocolate
4 Places I Would Rather Be Right Now: Home; Aruba; Dominica; Norweigian Dawn
4 People I am tagging: Honestly, any blogger I read regularly either already got tagged or wouldn't respond, so I'll just have to pass on this. One of the downsides of being among the last people to get tagged.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Men Without Chests
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and then bid the geldings to be fruitful.” C.S. Lewis
The above quote is from one of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis. Even though he wrote those words over 50 years ago in England they still ring true for 21st Century America, perhaps now more than ever.
Let me offer an example, one taken from popular culture, on the TV show "Survivor". I seldom watch this show, but once in a while I’ll catch part of it. One thing that strikes me about it is that a person can make a promise to someone, shake hands on it, swear to God, or swear on their mother’s grave, or swear on anything you care to name, then go back on their word. Their excuse is always “I’m playing the game”, and the other surviving participants nod approvingly. How in the name of God did we ever reach a point where someone would give their word, on national TV, then immediately and intentionally break that word, also on national TV, and not become a social outcast? There was a time when someone who did such a thing would have been voted off the island at the very next tribal council and would have been a pariah when they returned home. As the young ape in the original Planet of the Apes movie asked, “What ever happened to honor?”
We’ve raised a generation of men who’ve been told that it’s entirely up to the woman whether she wants to bear a child, but if she does he’s totally financially responsible for that child for the next eighteen years. We wonder why there are so many men who consider their parental responsibilities to begin and end with mailing a child-support check. We’ve raised a generation of people who denigrate strength and heroism as “macho BS” then wonder why, when an emergency happens, there’s no one to hide behind. We’ve raised a generation of people who consider honor to be quaint, old fashioned, and out of vogue and wonder why we now have a generation of people who will lie, cheat and steal in order to get what they want. We’ve raised a generation of people who are told that their own self-esteem is the most important thing in the world and wonder why people are so selfish. We make light of marital vows and wonder why so many marriages end in divorce.
Perhaps I’m the dinosaur I’ve been accused of being. I believe that there’s a way to act toward others and most definitely a way not to act. To my immense shame I don’t always live up to that standard, but when I don’t the problem is with me, not with the standard. “If at first you don’t succeed, lower your standards” is the slogan of a person who will never accomplish anything, and it’s the slogan of a nation that’s in a downward spiral.
I try not to write these entries that identify a problem without offering a solution. In this case I'll start my solution with a reference to two more popular culture icons, two people who rank high on my list of annoying people but who, in this case, are dead right in what they say. These two people are Oprah and Dr Phil, they say these two things repeatedly, I don't know who said either first and I also don't really care. They say that (1) you teach people how to treat you and (2) when someone shows you what kind of person they are, believe them. If someone makes a promise to you and breaks it and their excuse amounts to "I wanted to" don't give them the chance to do it again. If a company does business with you dishonestly and says "That's just the way the business is" don't do any further business with them and insist that everyone you know avoid them. When your elected officials promise you something and do the exact opposite once their elected don't vote for them next time. People lie to us and cheat us because we've taught them that they can with impunity. It's about time to stop that. As always the solution begins with the individual. If I can quote one more cultural icon, John Wayne in "The Shootist" said "I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people and I expect the same from them." One could do worse than to live one's life by this standard.
The above quote is from one of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis. Even though he wrote those words over 50 years ago in England they still ring true for 21st Century America, perhaps now more than ever.
Let me offer an example, one taken from popular culture, on the TV show "Survivor". I seldom watch this show, but once in a while I’ll catch part of it. One thing that strikes me about it is that a person can make a promise to someone, shake hands on it, swear to God, or swear on their mother’s grave, or swear on anything you care to name, then go back on their word. Their excuse is always “I’m playing the game”, and the other surviving participants nod approvingly. How in the name of God did we ever reach a point where someone would give their word, on national TV, then immediately and intentionally break that word, also on national TV, and not become a social outcast? There was a time when someone who did such a thing would have been voted off the island at the very next tribal council and would have been a pariah when they returned home. As the young ape in the original Planet of the Apes movie asked, “What ever happened to honor?”
We’ve raised a generation of men who’ve been told that it’s entirely up to the woman whether she wants to bear a child, but if she does he’s totally financially responsible for that child for the next eighteen years. We wonder why there are so many men who consider their parental responsibilities to begin and end with mailing a child-support check. We’ve raised a generation of people who denigrate strength and heroism as “macho BS” then wonder why, when an emergency happens, there’s no one to hide behind. We’ve raised a generation of people who consider honor to be quaint, old fashioned, and out of vogue and wonder why we now have a generation of people who will lie, cheat and steal in order to get what they want. We’ve raised a generation of people who are told that their own self-esteem is the most important thing in the world and wonder why people are so selfish. We make light of marital vows and wonder why so many marriages end in divorce.
Perhaps I’m the dinosaur I’ve been accused of being. I believe that there’s a way to act toward others and most definitely a way not to act. To my immense shame I don’t always live up to that standard, but when I don’t the problem is with me, not with the standard. “If at first you don’t succeed, lower your standards” is the slogan of a person who will never accomplish anything, and it’s the slogan of a nation that’s in a downward spiral.
I try not to write these entries that identify a problem without offering a solution. In this case I'll start my solution with a reference to two more popular culture icons, two people who rank high on my list of annoying people but who, in this case, are dead right in what they say. These two people are Oprah and Dr Phil, they say these two things repeatedly, I don't know who said either first and I also don't really care. They say that (1) you teach people how to treat you and (2) when someone shows you what kind of person they are, believe them. If someone makes a promise to you and breaks it and their excuse amounts to "I wanted to" don't give them the chance to do it again. If a company does business with you dishonestly and says "That's just the way the business is" don't do any further business with them and insist that everyone you know avoid them. When your elected officials promise you something and do the exact opposite once their elected don't vote for them next time. People lie to us and cheat us because we've taught them that they can with impunity. It's about time to stop that. As always the solution begins with the individual. If I can quote one more cultural icon, John Wayne in "The Shootist" said "I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people and I expect the same from them." One could do worse than to live one's life by this standard.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Truce
Yesterday's media event was a new tape made by Osama Bin Laden and aired by Al-Jazeera (All Terrorism, All The Time). The voice on the tape apparently is that of Bin Laden, and in it he referred to the July 7 bombings in London. This surprised me since I thought he'd been turned into a pinkish mist a year or more ago and the only reason it hadn't been reported was that the Daisy Cutter bomb didn't leave enough to identify.
The big news here is twofold, one, he's promising more attacks and two, he's offering a truce. The first should come as no surprise, we know Al Qaeda wants to attack us, inflict more damage on us and kill more of our people. Honestly, there's nothing to see there.
The offer of a truce is interesting though. Since 9/11 he's been threatening to destroy the US, he's been saying that American troops would be running in disarray, driven by terrorists with the full support of God. He promised blood running in the streets and his followers climbing over the piled bodies of our soldiers to get at the survivors. Now he's offering a "truce", and I have have to wonder why.
Your average American is a fundamentally decent person. He or she doesn't want to spill other people's blood but they also know that sometimes people force you to choose between either hurting them or being hurt yourself. We also tend to be naive, we tend to think other people are also basically decent people, so our first impression may be to look at Bin Laden's offer of a truce as a means of preventing bloodshed on both sides. We may think he's decided he made his point, now let's all take our weapons, go home, and live in peace.
Such a policy would, I believe, be a disaster. Bin Laden is the same man who ordered the 9/11 attacks. In case you forgot, a group of young men armed with box cutters took over four jets and crashed them in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania killing a total of three thousand people who did nothing more than go to work that day or try to fly from one place to another. If these attacks don't show a complete and utter disregard for human life, ours or theirs, I don't know what does. If the terrorists really were winning (as he claims), he wouldn't be offering a truce, he'd be planning our total destruction.
I can think of only one reason for his offer, and that's that he knows that if we keep going as we are his terrorist organization will lose, utterly and completely. In the last four years we've killed or captured thousands of Al Qaeda terrorists, including many high up in their command structure. If we accept their truce we give them the time and opportunity to rebuild.
Another thing about Americans, we tend to take a short view. We decide to do something and we try to get it done next week. The longest-term goal I can recall was JFKs promise to land on the moon within a decade, for us ten years is long-range planning. The terrorists don't think that way, they have no problem waiting ten or twenty years for us to get complacent and for them to rebuild before they attack again. They WILL attack again, truce or no truce. Only one thing will prevent that, and that's eliminating terrorists. We've been doing a darn good job of that for the last four years.
So over the next days and weeks, when you hear people talking about a truce with the terrorists, you'll hear about how it'll prevent bloodshed. Ask how we'll verify that Al Qaeda is keeping that truce. After all, in a truce between two sides of a war each side makes sure the other knows they're keeping the truce and aren't just using it as a cover for preparing for a new attack. Do they plan to just take Osama's word for it? Do they trust him that much?
Yes, we're decent, and we can be naive. We don't have to be foolish, and I believe any talk of truce, any talk of any end to the War on Terror that doesn't end in total defeat of the terrorists is a mistake. Just as in World War II when the US would accept nothing but unconditional surrender from Japan, we can't afford to let this end until our mission is accomplished. That will happen when we say it will and not before.
The big news here is twofold, one, he's promising more attacks and two, he's offering a truce. The first should come as no surprise, we know Al Qaeda wants to attack us, inflict more damage on us and kill more of our people. Honestly, there's nothing to see there.
The offer of a truce is interesting though. Since 9/11 he's been threatening to destroy the US, he's been saying that American troops would be running in disarray, driven by terrorists with the full support of God. He promised blood running in the streets and his followers climbing over the piled bodies of our soldiers to get at the survivors. Now he's offering a "truce", and I have have to wonder why.
Your average American is a fundamentally decent person. He or she doesn't want to spill other people's blood but they also know that sometimes people force you to choose between either hurting them or being hurt yourself. We also tend to be naive, we tend to think other people are also basically decent people, so our first impression may be to look at Bin Laden's offer of a truce as a means of preventing bloodshed on both sides. We may think he's decided he made his point, now let's all take our weapons, go home, and live in peace.
Such a policy would, I believe, be a disaster. Bin Laden is the same man who ordered the 9/11 attacks. In case you forgot, a group of young men armed with box cutters took over four jets and crashed them in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania killing a total of three thousand people who did nothing more than go to work that day or try to fly from one place to another. If these attacks don't show a complete and utter disregard for human life, ours or theirs, I don't know what does. If the terrorists really were winning (as he claims), he wouldn't be offering a truce, he'd be planning our total destruction.
I can think of only one reason for his offer, and that's that he knows that if we keep going as we are his terrorist organization will lose, utterly and completely. In the last four years we've killed or captured thousands of Al Qaeda terrorists, including many high up in their command structure. If we accept their truce we give them the time and opportunity to rebuild.
Another thing about Americans, we tend to take a short view. We decide to do something and we try to get it done next week. The longest-term goal I can recall was JFKs promise to land on the moon within a decade, for us ten years is long-range planning. The terrorists don't think that way, they have no problem waiting ten or twenty years for us to get complacent and for them to rebuild before they attack again. They WILL attack again, truce or no truce. Only one thing will prevent that, and that's eliminating terrorists. We've been doing a darn good job of that for the last four years.
So over the next days and weeks, when you hear people talking about a truce with the terrorists, you'll hear about how it'll prevent bloodshed. Ask how we'll verify that Al Qaeda is keeping that truce. After all, in a truce between two sides of a war each side makes sure the other knows they're keeping the truce and aren't just using it as a cover for preparing for a new attack. Do they plan to just take Osama's word for it? Do they trust him that much?
Yes, we're decent, and we can be naive. We don't have to be foolish, and I believe any talk of truce, any talk of any end to the War on Terror that doesn't end in total defeat of the terrorists is a mistake. Just as in World War II when the US would accept nothing but unconditional surrender from Japan, we can't afford to let this end until our mission is accomplished. That will happen when we say it will and not before.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Philosophy
When I was in college I took three Philosophy courses, all taught by the same instructor. She was a dedicated Atheist, Communist, and Existentialist. I thought her insights into the Human Condition were just amazing. I thought the books she had us read were incredibly thought provoking (although I never completely accepted the Communist Manifesto as being the best way to handle economics). Now, twenty years later, I can see all this for what it was, namely baloney.
This is what happens in a college environment. You have a group of young people, with essentially no real-world experience. You add a group of older people with titles, letters after their names, and most importantly tenure. This second group generally has little more real-world experience than the first, but they've had the time to read a lot more. Group two then proceeds to fill group one's heads with all sorts of wonderful-sounding stuff, and group one lacks the discernment derived from experience to recognize the fallacy of what they're learning. The students lack the experience to question the underlying premises they're being fed, once those premises are accepted they'll fall for the rest of the philosophy. Anyone who's studied logic can tell you that if you start off with an incorrect premise you can prove anything at all.
This system is self-perpetuating. I was a Computer Science major, my goal was a job out in the real world. Had I been a Philosophy major (and I seriously considered a double major) my goal would probably have been a college teaching position. I would have simply moved up the Ivory Tower, from student to teacher, and helped to fill the next generation of young, inexperienced brains with nonsense. A percentage of them would also have become Philosophy teachers, and so on and so on and so on.
Don't get me wrong, we need Philosophy teachers. We don't want to raise generations of worker drones who know how to do their jobs and nothing else. I do, however, think Philosophy departments in general would be better off if the teachers had to apply their philosophies in the real-world day after day.
I had basically three classifications of teachers in my major and closely related subjects like Engineering. First, and decidedly in the minority, were those who had been teachers since they got out of school themselves. Second were people who studied their fields in school, then worked in the field for some time before semi-retiring to a full-time teaching position. Third were people who were currently employed full-time in their fields and were teaching part-time. Those last two categories were about equal in number. What this meant was that the majority of my teachers in my major had real-world experience. They knew what it meant to work late to find and correct a program problem. They knew what it was to have the phone ring at 2:00 AM because your program just bombed. They knew that all the wonderful theories in the world meant nothing until the program was thoroughly tested and debugged. They knew that if it hadn't been tested by definition it didn't work.
Communism, for instance, is a wonderful philosophy on paper. Everyone treated equally, everyone working for the common good. As Bill Whittle said though, it requires you to believe that the entire commune will turn out at midnight to search for the cow that no one owns when she gets lost in a snow storm. If you've never had to search for a cow in a snowstorm you might well believe such a thing, once you have you'll know better.
My Philosophy teacher often criticized my essays and papers for being too logical. I took as critical a look at the philosophy in question as my limited experience allowed. Looking back, it wasn't sufficiently critical, but you can't expect old heads on young shoulders. The majority of my course work was in a field where a misplaced comma could mean a long night of debugging, where hooking the circuit up to the 12 volt instead of the 5 volt power source could ruin your day, and where Murphy's law was always strictly enforced. Where the question was not whether something would break, but when and where it would break and how much damage it would do when it fell.
So I look around the laboratory that is our world. Insanity has been defined as doing the same thing and expecting different results, well I see a great many people holding on to failed beliefs and expecting them to work this time. Communism, Moral Relativism, Collectivism, Multiculturalism. They've all been tried and have failed, in some cases multiple times. If you make a wrong turn it's not "progress" to keep going in the wrong direction, you only make progress by going back to the last place where you were right.
Anything else is insanity.
This is what happens in a college environment. You have a group of young people, with essentially no real-world experience. You add a group of older people with titles, letters after their names, and most importantly tenure. This second group generally has little more real-world experience than the first, but they've had the time to read a lot more. Group two then proceeds to fill group one's heads with all sorts of wonderful-sounding stuff, and group one lacks the discernment derived from experience to recognize the fallacy of what they're learning. The students lack the experience to question the underlying premises they're being fed, once those premises are accepted they'll fall for the rest of the philosophy. Anyone who's studied logic can tell you that if you start off with an incorrect premise you can prove anything at all.
This system is self-perpetuating. I was a Computer Science major, my goal was a job out in the real world. Had I been a Philosophy major (and I seriously considered a double major) my goal would probably have been a college teaching position. I would have simply moved up the Ivory Tower, from student to teacher, and helped to fill the next generation of young, inexperienced brains with nonsense. A percentage of them would also have become Philosophy teachers, and so on and so on and so on.
Don't get me wrong, we need Philosophy teachers. We don't want to raise generations of worker drones who know how to do their jobs and nothing else. I do, however, think Philosophy departments in general would be better off if the teachers had to apply their philosophies in the real-world day after day.
I had basically three classifications of teachers in my major and closely related subjects like Engineering. First, and decidedly in the minority, were those who had been teachers since they got out of school themselves. Second were people who studied their fields in school, then worked in the field for some time before semi-retiring to a full-time teaching position. Third were people who were currently employed full-time in their fields and were teaching part-time. Those last two categories were about equal in number. What this meant was that the majority of my teachers in my major had real-world experience. They knew what it meant to work late to find and correct a program problem. They knew what it was to have the phone ring at 2:00 AM because your program just bombed. They knew that all the wonderful theories in the world meant nothing until the program was thoroughly tested and debugged. They knew that if it hadn't been tested by definition it didn't work.
Communism, for instance, is a wonderful philosophy on paper. Everyone treated equally, everyone working for the common good. As Bill Whittle said though, it requires you to believe that the entire commune will turn out at midnight to search for the cow that no one owns when she gets lost in a snow storm. If you've never had to search for a cow in a snowstorm you might well believe such a thing, once you have you'll know better.
My Philosophy teacher often criticized my essays and papers for being too logical. I took as critical a look at the philosophy in question as my limited experience allowed. Looking back, it wasn't sufficiently critical, but you can't expect old heads on young shoulders. The majority of my course work was in a field where a misplaced comma could mean a long night of debugging, where hooking the circuit up to the 12 volt instead of the 5 volt power source could ruin your day, and where Murphy's law was always strictly enforced. Where the question was not whether something would break, but when and where it would break and how much damage it would do when it fell.
So I look around the laboratory that is our world. Insanity has been defined as doing the same thing and expecting different results, well I see a great many people holding on to failed beliefs and expecting them to work this time. Communism, Moral Relativism, Collectivism, Multiculturalism. They've all been tried and have failed, in some cases multiple times. If you make a wrong turn it's not "progress" to keep going in the wrong direction, you only make progress by going back to the last place where you were right.
Anything else is insanity.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Christmas Memories
Growing up, the Christmas tree was always put up on the day after Thanksgiving and always stayed up until my parents anniversary on January 7. We had a moderatly non-realistic artificial tree. Among my early Christmas memories was that it was my job to sort out the branches by the color of paint on the end of the wire so they'd be put in the correct row of holes on the pole that formed the trunk. The branches would be inserted, the green "tribbles" would be wrapped around the trunk to hide the fact that it was a green-painted pole, and then my dad would start swearing at, er, working on making the mini-lights work. Once the lights were on (of course they were the type that if one bulb blew the whole string went out) we'd put on tinsel (later garland when my mom got tired of finding tinsel in the cat's litterbox), then the ornaments (mostly glass). I also recall a stand my dad made out of 2x4's because he got tired of the old stand tipping over.
Christmas morning was as magic as for most kids. Often there would be a set of toy trains under the tree (the beginnings of a hobby for me). Thinking back I'm amazed at what my mother accomplished on a limited income (Dad was disabled at work when I was ten). She'd start shopping for Christmas around May or so, getting an item or two each time.
Christmas Eve was a family thing at my house. I'm the youngest of my family, my brothers and sister are quite a bit older than I am (I have a nephew who's six months younger than I am). Early on (before I was aware of such things) my parents old me they'd have the family get-together on Christmas Day, but found out that (a) my nieces and nephews didn't like being away from their new toys on Christmas Day and (b) they'd express that by breaking MY new toys. So the party was moved to Christmas Eve. My father and brothers would spend the evening getting tipsy on cheap beer and solving all the world's problems in the living room. My mother and sisters-in-law would share the latest gossip in the kitchen. The kids would be playing with whatever presents we got on that day and anticipating what Santa would bring. And of course there was always a big supply of my mother's cookies and cakes.
One year as my mother was preparing for the festivities she was putting stuff out on the dining room table. She had to be careful what she put out, she didn't want to leave anything unattended where the cat (Jeremiah) could get it, but she thought she was safe leaving the olives out. It turned out that Jerry liked olives, he ate the entire jar.
OK, stop reading my blog and get to work on memories for yourself and your kids. Merry Christmas!
Christmas morning was as magic as for most kids. Often there would be a set of toy trains under the tree (the beginnings of a hobby for me). Thinking back I'm amazed at what my mother accomplished on a limited income (Dad was disabled at work when I was ten). She'd start shopping for Christmas around May or so, getting an item or two each time.
Christmas Eve was a family thing at my house. I'm the youngest of my family, my brothers and sister are quite a bit older than I am (I have a nephew who's six months younger than I am). Early on (before I was aware of such things) my parents old me they'd have the family get-together on Christmas Day, but found out that (a) my nieces and nephews didn't like being away from their new toys on Christmas Day and (b) they'd express that by breaking MY new toys. So the party was moved to Christmas Eve. My father and brothers would spend the evening getting tipsy on cheap beer and solving all the world's problems in the living room. My mother and sisters-in-law would share the latest gossip in the kitchen. The kids would be playing with whatever presents we got on that day and anticipating what Santa would bring. And of course there was always a big supply of my mother's cookies and cakes.
One year as my mother was preparing for the festivities she was putting stuff out on the dining room table. She had to be careful what she put out, she didn't want to leave anything unattended where the cat (Jeremiah) could get it, but she thought she was safe leaving the olives out. It turned out that Jerry liked olives, he ate the entire jar.
OK, stop reading my blog and get to work on memories for yourself and your kids. Merry Christmas!
Monday, December 19, 2005
Flight
I should have posted this over the weekend but was busy with other, Christmas related things (including two parties!).
December 17th, 2005 marked the 102nd anniversary of the first manned, powered, sustained flight by a heavier-than-air craft by the Wright brothers. Consider: a mere 66 years later we left the first human foot prints on the moon, and we now have a number of space craft that have not only left the Earth, but have left the entire solar system never to return.
I grew up with the space program, some of the earliest toys I recall were astronauts, rockets, lunar rovers, I even had a card-game called "Space Race". I see a direct correlation between the Wright brothers and the Mercury, Gemini and Apollo programs. At first planes were used mainly by two groups, the rich and famous and the government. Right now only the governments and a few wealthy individuals have gone into space, but perhaps in a few years (maybe even within my lifetime) we'll see space flight the same way we currently see airplane flight. Recently a private company launched a reuseable craft into suborbital flight. They proved it was reuseable by launching it twice within a preset timeframe. If that's not an exciting concept for a space-age kid I don't know what is.
I remember once being asked what one thing I'd do, what one dream I'd fulfill, if I could do it right now and money were no object. I said I'd ride the space shuttle. To truly understand what this means to me, I hate, and I mean PASSIONATELY hate to fly. I hate amusement park rides, my wife could tell you how Runaway Train at Great Adventure was a white-knuckle experience for me. Just watching a shuttle launch, as the bird rolls over on its back, is enough to make parts of my anatomy pucker. Still, I'd go if I could. If they ever decide that they need an overweight, middle-aged guy as part of the crew I'll be first on line. I'd go as cargo if I had to.
Why? Let me relate a story. Once, while I was commuting by bus, the bus I was in went over an overpass, and on the roadway beneath was a rental truck that was a little to high to make it under the overpass. The top of the truck was peeled back like a sardine can. As I went by at 60 or so mph I could see all the stuff in the truck. Now, I've loaded rental trucks, boxes, furniture, mattresses, etc. This gave me a new perspective on the inside of a truck, a view you don't normally get. I imagine the astronauts in the International Space Station or on the shuttle get that perspective. You don't see a storm from the ground, looking up and only seeing the leading edge of it, you see the whole storm from the top. Imagine seeing the shadow cast by the Rocky Mountains as the sun rises. Imagine looking the other way and seeing stars, more stars than you ever imagined. So I'd clamp my hands firmly on my stomach and keep swallowing whatever I ate for the last two days. I'd hand out earplugs to my fellow crew members so they wouldn't hear me screaming. I'd probably have sore hands for days from clutching whatever there is to clutch. But I'd go, and when I got back I'd be glad I went, I'd count it as the experience of a lifetime.
102 years ago people said that if man were meant to fly he'd have wings. I'd reply that man has wings, wings he made himself. It's what we've always done, we didn't have claws and fangs to hunt with or to protect us from predators so we made them. We didn't have wings, we didn't have the ability to breathe in a vacuum or under water. I believe that someday we'll walk on other planets in this solar system (in fact in the 60's and 70's you couldn't have convinced me that we wouldn't have colonized Mars by now!). That's also what we do, we knew there was nothing on top of Mt Everest, we knew there was nothing really special about the North or South Poles, but that didn't stop people from going there. There may be no good reason to go back to the moon, or to Mars or to one of the moons of Jupiter, but we'll go. We're driven by the same impluse that made a distant ancestor cross to the other side of the river just to see what's there.
Next clear night go outside and look at the moon, reflect that there are footprints, flags, and some decomposing junk up there and that we put it there. Consider that the same spirit that drove those space pioneers drove the Wrights to fly at Kitty Hawk. Try to imagine our world without the technologies that started with that first flight. Now try to imagine our world in a hundred years without the benefits of the technology borne of the space program. Like they say, shoot for the moon, even if you miss you land among the stars.
December 17th, 2005 marked the 102nd anniversary of the first manned, powered, sustained flight by a heavier-than-air craft by the Wright brothers. Consider: a mere 66 years later we left the first human foot prints on the moon, and we now have a number of space craft that have not only left the Earth, but have left the entire solar system never to return.
I grew up with the space program, some of the earliest toys I recall were astronauts, rockets, lunar rovers, I even had a card-game called "Space Race". I see a direct correlation between the Wright brothers and the Mercury, Gemini and Apollo programs. At first planes were used mainly by two groups, the rich and famous and the government. Right now only the governments and a few wealthy individuals have gone into space, but perhaps in a few years (maybe even within my lifetime) we'll see space flight the same way we currently see airplane flight. Recently a private company launched a reuseable craft into suborbital flight. They proved it was reuseable by launching it twice within a preset timeframe. If that's not an exciting concept for a space-age kid I don't know what is.
I remember once being asked what one thing I'd do, what one dream I'd fulfill, if I could do it right now and money were no object. I said I'd ride the space shuttle. To truly understand what this means to me, I hate, and I mean PASSIONATELY hate to fly. I hate amusement park rides, my wife could tell you how Runaway Train at Great Adventure was a white-knuckle experience for me. Just watching a shuttle launch, as the bird rolls over on its back, is enough to make parts of my anatomy pucker. Still, I'd go if I could. If they ever decide that they need an overweight, middle-aged guy as part of the crew I'll be first on line. I'd go as cargo if I had to.
Why? Let me relate a story. Once, while I was commuting by bus, the bus I was in went over an overpass, and on the roadway beneath was a rental truck that was a little to high to make it under the overpass. The top of the truck was peeled back like a sardine can. As I went by at 60 or so mph I could see all the stuff in the truck. Now, I've loaded rental trucks, boxes, furniture, mattresses, etc. This gave me a new perspective on the inside of a truck, a view you don't normally get. I imagine the astronauts in the International Space Station or on the shuttle get that perspective. You don't see a storm from the ground, looking up and only seeing the leading edge of it, you see the whole storm from the top. Imagine seeing the shadow cast by the Rocky Mountains as the sun rises. Imagine looking the other way and seeing stars, more stars than you ever imagined. So I'd clamp my hands firmly on my stomach and keep swallowing whatever I ate for the last two days. I'd hand out earplugs to my fellow crew members so they wouldn't hear me screaming. I'd probably have sore hands for days from clutching whatever there is to clutch. But I'd go, and when I got back I'd be glad I went, I'd count it as the experience of a lifetime.
102 years ago people said that if man were meant to fly he'd have wings. I'd reply that man has wings, wings he made himself. It's what we've always done, we didn't have claws and fangs to hunt with or to protect us from predators so we made them. We didn't have wings, we didn't have the ability to breathe in a vacuum or under water. I believe that someday we'll walk on other planets in this solar system (in fact in the 60's and 70's you couldn't have convinced me that we wouldn't have colonized Mars by now!). That's also what we do, we knew there was nothing on top of Mt Everest, we knew there was nothing really special about the North or South Poles, but that didn't stop people from going there. There may be no good reason to go back to the moon, or to Mars or to one of the moons of Jupiter, but we'll go. We're driven by the same impluse that made a distant ancestor cross to the other side of the river just to see what's there.
Next clear night go outside and look at the moon, reflect that there are footprints, flags, and some decomposing junk up there and that we put it there. Consider that the same spirit that drove those space pioneers drove the Wrights to fly at Kitty Hawk. Try to imagine our world without the technologies that started with that first flight. Now try to imagine our world in a hundred years without the benefits of the technology borne of the space program. Like they say, shoot for the moon, even if you miss you land among the stars.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Merry Commercialmas
You've seen the commercials, the announcer tells you that the advertizer has the perfect gift for that special someone in your life. The perfect gift turns out to be a brand-new luxury car, and the implication is that you really don't treat that other person as particularly special unless you buy them this car, and of course if you do you're a wonderful significant other for buying what your loved one REALLY wants.
Now, I know that there are people in this country who can afford to drop 30 or 40 thousand dollars on a car as a Christmas present. I doubt that there are enough such people to keep a car company in business, year after year. The rest of us would have to take money from savings, trade in an existing car, and/or finance such a purchase. I know that if I made such a financial decision without consulting my wife beforehand I'd end up sleeping in the shed outside.
I wonder sometimes if we've forgotten what this gift giving thing is all about. Did Melchior go into debt for a year to supply the gold in an effort to win the approval of the newborn King? Did Balthasar see an advertizement telling him that frankincense was the perfect give for that special Savior? Did Caspar buy Myrrh in an effort to make as good an impression as the other two Magi? Did they keep asking "Are we there yet?" as they followed the star to Bethlehem? I doubt it, I think the three Magi (or wise men, or kings if you prefer) brought their gifts as an offering of love, freely and cheerfully offered to the One whose devoted servants they were. The gifts were just a symbol of the love and devotion they felt. As in the wonderful story of the Little Drummer Boy if they had no gift that was worth money they could have offered the one gift that matters, the gift of themselves.
I have, in my jewelry box at home, a ring made of stainless steel. It belonged to my mother. She had it as long as I can remember. My father made it for her when he was unemployed and couldn't afford a present for her, he got a stainless steel nut, drilled it out to fit her finger, ground and filed it down, filed a design into it, and gave it to her as a present. Total monetary value, pennies. Total sentimental value, priceless. Remember this next time you go out shopping for people you don't like, spending money you don't have on gifts they won't like.
Now, I know that there are people in this country who can afford to drop 30 or 40 thousand dollars on a car as a Christmas present. I doubt that there are enough such people to keep a car company in business, year after year. The rest of us would have to take money from savings, trade in an existing car, and/or finance such a purchase. I know that if I made such a financial decision without consulting my wife beforehand I'd end up sleeping in the shed outside.
I wonder sometimes if we've forgotten what this gift giving thing is all about. Did Melchior go into debt for a year to supply the gold in an effort to win the approval of the newborn King? Did Balthasar see an advertizement telling him that frankincense was the perfect give for that special Savior? Did Caspar buy Myrrh in an effort to make as good an impression as the other two Magi? Did they keep asking "Are we there yet?" as they followed the star to Bethlehem? I doubt it, I think the three Magi (or wise men, or kings if you prefer) brought their gifts as an offering of love, freely and cheerfully offered to the One whose devoted servants they were. The gifts were just a symbol of the love and devotion they felt. As in the wonderful story of the Little Drummer Boy if they had no gift that was worth money they could have offered the one gift that matters, the gift of themselves.
I have, in my jewelry box at home, a ring made of stainless steel. It belonged to my mother. She had it as long as I can remember. My father made it for her when he was unemployed and couldn't afford a present for her, he got a stainless steel nut, drilled it out to fit her finger, ground and filed it down, filed a design into it, and gave it to her as a present. Total monetary value, pennies. Total sentimental value, priceless. Remember this next time you go out shopping for people you don't like, spending money you don't have on gifts they won't like.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Christmas Shopping
Well, my wife and I went Christmas shopping this morning, we were at the mall by 7:30 and left at about 11:00. I actually got most of my shopping done in this one trip. Of course I only buy for one person, my wife, she buys for everyone else. Hmmm, I see a future blog entry on division of labor in a marriage.
Being a man shopping in the women's section of Macy's can be a rough experience. First off, the store isn't arranged properly. You want to see a properly arranged store, go to a hardware store. All the toilet parts are here, all the paint is there, light switches over there and mail boxes in another aisle. Imagine if hardware stores were laid out like Macy's and you went there looking for a shovel. OK, here's a shovel, next to a rake and a hammer. Then in the next aisle is another shovel, next to a circular saw and a power drill. Two aisles over is a third shovel, next to that one is a set of files and a motion-sensing light fixture. Why aren't the shovels together? Because the whole store is arranged by manufacturer! Each shovel is next to other items made by the same company, so if you want to find a particular type of shovel (say a garden spade or a snow shovel) you either have to know who makes that type of shovel or you wander around the whole store looking for it. Is it any wonder men don't like shopping, except in sensible places like hardware stores, gun shops, and sporting-goods stores?
Don't even get me started on "miss's" vs "women's" (I just learned this one today, I hope I got the right one! Well, that's why I get gift receipts, right?) And we won't even begin to discuss the helpful sales person (who looks to be about the same age as my CAR) who can't figure out the change if she punches the wrong amount received into the computerized cash register and has to cancel the order and ring the whole thing up again. This thankfully didn't happen today, but it's happened in the past.
No, I'm not saying what I bought for my wife for Christmas, she reads my blog. Stay tuned!
Being a man shopping in the women's section of Macy's can be a rough experience. First off, the store isn't arranged properly. You want to see a properly arranged store, go to a hardware store. All the toilet parts are here, all the paint is there, light switches over there and mail boxes in another aisle. Imagine if hardware stores were laid out like Macy's and you went there looking for a shovel. OK, here's a shovel, next to a rake and a hammer. Then in the next aisle is another shovel, next to a circular saw and a power drill. Two aisles over is a third shovel, next to that one is a set of files and a motion-sensing light fixture. Why aren't the shovels together? Because the whole store is arranged by manufacturer! Each shovel is next to other items made by the same company, so if you want to find a particular type of shovel (say a garden spade or a snow shovel) you either have to know who makes that type of shovel or you wander around the whole store looking for it. Is it any wonder men don't like shopping, except in sensible places like hardware stores, gun shops, and sporting-goods stores?
Don't even get me started on "miss's" vs "women's" (I just learned this one today, I hope I got the right one! Well, that's why I get gift receipts, right?) And we won't even begin to discuss the helpful sales person (who looks to be about the same age as my CAR) who can't figure out the change if she punches the wrong amount received into the computerized cash register and has to cancel the order and ring the whole thing up again. This thankfully didn't happen today, but it's happened in the past.
No, I'm not saying what I bought for my wife for Christmas, she reads my blog. Stay tuned!
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Day of Infamy
Today is December 7th, 2005, the 64th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Have you thanked a veteran lately?
Remember, the Greatest Generation is dying off rapidly, get their stories NOW while you still can. People who were 18 in 1941 are 82 now.
One thing that has always struck me is that the men who served in World War II were just ordinary men. My Dad's last job before he was disabled was as a crane operator. I knew a man who was a Pearl Harbor survivor, he sold costume jewelry at the local indoor flea market. I met a vet last Memorial Day in Cape May, NJ, he was selling a book of poems he's written over the years. Men who did the job they had to do, then went home, picked up their lives, got jobs, and started families.
Have you thanked a veteran lately?
Remember, the Greatest Generation is dying off rapidly, get their stories NOW while you still can. People who were 18 in 1941 are 82 now.
One thing that has always struck me is that the men who served in World War II were just ordinary men. My Dad's last job before he was disabled was as a crane operator. I knew a man who was a Pearl Harbor survivor, he sold costume jewelry at the local indoor flea market. I met a vet last Memorial Day in Cape May, NJ, he was selling a book of poems he's written over the years. Men who did the job they had to do, then went home, picked up their lives, got jobs, and started families.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
This Is My Rifle.....
there are many like it but this one is mine! Hoo boy, is THAT an understatement, it's a Mosin Nagant 91/30, built in 1938 in the Izhevsk arsenal in Russia. It's all matching, with matching bayonet and a cleaning kit and sling.
My wife took me out yesterday to pick out my Christmas present, I knew I wanted a military surplus rifle and I was pretty sure I wanted either a Mosin Nagant or a Mauser. The Mausers in my price range here pretty beat up and the Mosins all looked like they hadn't been fired in 60 years, in fact they probably haven't been.
I have to give her a good cleaning, get some ammo (Sarco was out) and get her to the range.
Since I tend to name things like cars and guns, I'm also thinking of a name for her. Something common, tough and reliable, something that will bring up images of a peasant woman in a babushka in the fields. Of course the name will be female!
Friday, December 02, 2005
Dad's Stories - Part 3
Insert my usual disclaimer here.
Dad was a Marine during and after World War II. He was stationed on the island of Peleliu in the South Pacific. From there he went to Japan, and from there to China. Here are a couple stories from his time there.
The Marines on Peleliu were given, among other things, a fishing spear head to be used to occupy themselves. The head had three prongs (picture King Neptune's spear). They had to supply the handle themselves. Someone noticed that the threads in the spear head matched the threads on the radio antennas on the jeep-mounted radios, which caused some consternation when the radio needed to be used. Being a civic minded guy (ha!) as well as being handy, Dad set up shop making handles for the spears out of scraps of pipe or whatever he could scrounge. He'd also add barps to the prongs by flattening the metal out a bit then filing it to a point and barb. His fee was either a six-pack or a bottle of scotch. The brass was happy because the radio attennas stayed where they belonged, the other Marines were happy because they had fishing spears and the barbs kept the fish from being lost, and Dad was happy because he had a supply of beer or scotch. Capitalism at work!
My Dad also had no fear of heights at all, I can recall that about him. Well it seemed the airfield on Peleliu had some sort of mast, for radio or radar or whatever I don't recall. The mast had a ladder going up the side of it, and it had a light bulb on top. Since Murphy was definitely in the military, the bulb burned out. As I recall it wasn't the Marine's reponsibility to replace the bulb (I don't recall who "owned" the mast though), but no one who's responsibility it was would climb the ladder to replace it because it was too high. His Colonel (for whom Dad was orderly), always looking for a way to stick it to another branch of service, said he knew someone who'd climb up there for a price. The Colonel told my Dad that he'd get a bottle of scotch for doing this. Negotiations ensued, and the final price was a case of scotch.
The Japanese interpreter for my Dad's unit was a guy from someplace in the deep South, Dad swore that he spoke Japanese with a Southern accent. One day a Marine had been out scrounging on the island and found a cave full of bottles with Japanese labels. He brought the bottle to the interpreter, hoping it was saki or something similar. Upon reading the label the interpreter asked the scrounger where he found it, and HOW he found it. He replied that he was searching a cave using his cigarette lighter for light and found several cases of these bottles. It turned out that the bottles contained something very similar to napalm.
Later on after the war my Dad was stationed in China. He was with the communications unit, he was a lineman. He and his buddies got the job of removing some old phone lines, and he drew a line that was attached to a pole in the middle of a rice paddy. As he climbed the pole (using gaffs and a belt) he noticed that the pole was wobbly. When he got to the top and started detaching wires he realized that the lines were the only thing holding the pole up. Realizing that he was headed for a splash-down, he removed the belt so that when the pole fell he could get away from it, and as he detached the last wire the pole fell and he landed in the rice paddy. If you've never seen a rice paddy or pictures of one, it looks like a swamp with one notable difference, it's fertilized. It's fertilized with human waste. His buddies made him ride back to base on the bumper of the jeep.
While in China the Marines were paid in American money, and the exchange rate was incredible. I recall him telling me it was something like 20,000 Chinese dollars to one American dollar. A lot of the Marines got tatoos, but my Dad never liked needles so instead he had an eagle embroidered on the back of one of his jackets by one of the old men in the area. Upon asking the price he was told ten dollars, he asked if that was ten dollars American or Chinese, and the price was ten dollars Chinese. He gave the man a couple American dollars which made him extremely happy.
Dad was a Marine during and after World War II. He was stationed on the island of Peleliu in the South Pacific. From there he went to Japan, and from there to China. Here are a couple stories from his time there.
The Marines on Peleliu were given, among other things, a fishing spear head to be used to occupy themselves. The head had three prongs (picture King Neptune's spear). They had to supply the handle themselves. Someone noticed that the threads in the spear head matched the threads on the radio antennas on the jeep-mounted radios, which caused some consternation when the radio needed to be used. Being a civic minded guy (ha!) as well as being handy, Dad set up shop making handles for the spears out of scraps of pipe or whatever he could scrounge. He'd also add barps to the prongs by flattening the metal out a bit then filing it to a point and barb. His fee was either a six-pack or a bottle of scotch. The brass was happy because the radio attennas stayed where they belonged, the other Marines were happy because they had fishing spears and the barbs kept the fish from being lost, and Dad was happy because he had a supply of beer or scotch. Capitalism at work!
My Dad also had no fear of heights at all, I can recall that about him. Well it seemed the airfield on Peleliu had some sort of mast, for radio or radar or whatever I don't recall. The mast had a ladder going up the side of it, and it had a light bulb on top. Since Murphy was definitely in the military, the bulb burned out. As I recall it wasn't the Marine's reponsibility to replace the bulb (I don't recall who "owned" the mast though), but no one who's responsibility it was would climb the ladder to replace it because it was too high. His Colonel (for whom Dad was orderly), always looking for a way to stick it to another branch of service, said he knew someone who'd climb up there for a price. The Colonel told my Dad that he'd get a bottle of scotch for doing this. Negotiations ensued, and the final price was a case of scotch.
The Japanese interpreter for my Dad's unit was a guy from someplace in the deep South, Dad swore that he spoke Japanese with a Southern accent. One day a Marine had been out scrounging on the island and found a cave full of bottles with Japanese labels. He brought the bottle to the interpreter, hoping it was saki or something similar. Upon reading the label the interpreter asked the scrounger where he found it, and HOW he found it. He replied that he was searching a cave using his cigarette lighter for light and found several cases of these bottles. It turned out that the bottles contained something very similar to napalm.
Later on after the war my Dad was stationed in China. He was with the communications unit, he was a lineman. He and his buddies got the job of removing some old phone lines, and he drew a line that was attached to a pole in the middle of a rice paddy. As he climbed the pole (using gaffs and a belt) he noticed that the pole was wobbly. When he got to the top and started detaching wires he realized that the lines were the only thing holding the pole up. Realizing that he was headed for a splash-down, he removed the belt so that when the pole fell he could get away from it, and as he detached the last wire the pole fell and he landed in the rice paddy. If you've never seen a rice paddy or pictures of one, it looks like a swamp with one notable difference, it's fertilized. It's fertilized with human waste. His buddies made him ride back to base on the bumper of the jeep.
While in China the Marines were paid in American money, and the exchange rate was incredible. I recall him telling me it was something like 20,000 Chinese dollars to one American dollar. A lot of the Marines got tatoos, but my Dad never liked needles so instead he had an eagle embroidered on the back of one of his jackets by one of the old men in the area. Upon asking the price he was told ten dollars, he asked if that was ten dollars American or Chinese, and the price was ten dollars Chinese. He gave the man a couple American dollars which made him extremely happy.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Rifles and Riflemen
I've done target shooting with handguns for quite a few years, and for the last year or so I've given serious thought to getting a rifle. This brought up the topic of just why I want to learn to shoot a rifle, so I thought I'd share my ruminations with the rest of the world (or at least that small portion that actually reads my blog!).
The unenlightened have an idea of your average shooter as a knuckle-dragging red-neck who thrives on destruction and lives for the day the UN invades the US so he can plug some blue helmets. I've known quite a few avid shooters and have yet to meet one that fits that description. Quite the opposite, the majority of shooters I've known have been intelligent, polite, and all-around decent people. The overall percentage of nutcases is, in my experience, considerably smaller than that of the general population.
If there's one trait common to the truly good shooters I've known it's been confidence. Not bravado, just quiet confidence that the world won't throw anything at them that they can't handle. They get this confidence thru self mastery. The Marine Corp's Rifleman's Creed states "I must master it (my rifle) as I must master my life". To a great extent the two go together, mastery of a rifle and mastery of yourself go hand-in-hand.
Shooting is conceptually very simple, line up the sights, hold still, squeeze the trigger. It sounds easy until you try it, then you realize that your body is a bag of fluid held up by a framework that has every connection lubricated. You realize that the slightest movement will affect your aim. Making the weapon fire at the appropriate time requires you to hold as still as possible AND squeeze the trigger only when the sights are on target.
Self control isn't popular these days. People assume that a competent shot is a risk to "go postal" and commit mayhem over the slightest annoyance. We have people talking of shoot-outs over traffic accidents. The truth is the exact opposite, the competent shooter knows he has live-or-death power over anything in range and has enough self control to know that he won't unleash that power except in the gravest extreme. The expert shooter when faced with petty annoyances is in the same situation as if he didn't have a weapon, he won't resort to violence because he knows it's inappropriate and immoral. He's in the same situation as the devoted husband when he comes in contact with another woman, he knows he won't do what he shouldn't, he doesn't WANT to.
The rifleman knows that just because he's capable of doing something, that doesn't mean he will do it. It doesn't even mean he WANTS to do it. Thinking that a rifleman, or any other gun owner, looks forward to the day he has to shoot someone is the same as thinking that a person who knows CPR looks forward to the day someone has a heart attack in his presence. If it happens he's prepared, if not so much the better.
Beyond the skills and self mastery required to move from the status of "owner of a rifle" to "rifleman", there's something about rifles that's interesting and intriguing. Some people would claim that's because I grew up in a gun-free home, but I've noticed the same interest among people who grew up around rifles, have shot rifles since childhood, and currently own dozens of rifles. There's something about a rifle that not even a handgun has. The only other inanimate object I can think of that excites such emotion in an owner is a car. Pick up a well-made rifle, hold it, feel its weight and balance. Look at the way metal and wood are fit together. Notice the way metal moves against metal, observe the way springs, cams, and levers all work together. Consider the intense heat and pressure the chamber and barrel are designed to contain, not once or twice, but thousands of times over the useful life of the weapon. Consider the barrel, accurately machined to within thousandths of an inch. All designed to send a tiny projectile a great distance into a target of the shooters choosing. All so well made that if the shot misses its intended target the most likely cause is shooter error.
When you think about it rifles are truly incredible machines. A rifle built over a hundred years ago is every bit as effective for the job it was designed for as one built this year. Compare a Mauser built in the last quarter of the 19th century with a brand-new, still in the box Remington offering. Assuming the Mauser has been properly maintained and not abused it will do anything you could ask the Remington to do, and if you notice any difference in performance it'll likely be the Mauser on top.
So Christmas is fast approaching and my wife has agreed that a rifle will be The Gift for me this year. That won't make me a rifleman, it'll merely mark the first step, I'll be a rifle owner. That whole mastery of my life thing is intimidating, but it's essential. I'll let you know how it goes.
The unenlightened have an idea of your average shooter as a knuckle-dragging red-neck who thrives on destruction and lives for the day the UN invades the US so he can plug some blue helmets. I've known quite a few avid shooters and have yet to meet one that fits that description. Quite the opposite, the majority of shooters I've known have been intelligent, polite, and all-around decent people. The overall percentage of nutcases is, in my experience, considerably smaller than that of the general population.
If there's one trait common to the truly good shooters I've known it's been confidence. Not bravado, just quiet confidence that the world won't throw anything at them that they can't handle. They get this confidence thru self mastery. The Marine Corp's Rifleman's Creed states "I must master it (my rifle) as I must master my life". To a great extent the two go together, mastery of a rifle and mastery of yourself go hand-in-hand.
Shooting is conceptually very simple, line up the sights, hold still, squeeze the trigger. It sounds easy until you try it, then you realize that your body is a bag of fluid held up by a framework that has every connection lubricated. You realize that the slightest movement will affect your aim. Making the weapon fire at the appropriate time requires you to hold as still as possible AND squeeze the trigger only when the sights are on target.
Self control isn't popular these days. People assume that a competent shot is a risk to "go postal" and commit mayhem over the slightest annoyance. We have people talking of shoot-outs over traffic accidents. The truth is the exact opposite, the competent shooter knows he has live-or-death power over anything in range and has enough self control to know that he won't unleash that power except in the gravest extreme. The expert shooter when faced with petty annoyances is in the same situation as if he didn't have a weapon, he won't resort to violence because he knows it's inappropriate and immoral. He's in the same situation as the devoted husband when he comes in contact with another woman, he knows he won't do what he shouldn't, he doesn't WANT to.
The rifleman knows that just because he's capable of doing something, that doesn't mean he will do it. It doesn't even mean he WANTS to do it. Thinking that a rifleman, or any other gun owner, looks forward to the day he has to shoot someone is the same as thinking that a person who knows CPR looks forward to the day someone has a heart attack in his presence. If it happens he's prepared, if not so much the better.
Beyond the skills and self mastery required to move from the status of "owner of a rifle" to "rifleman", there's something about rifles that's interesting and intriguing. Some people would claim that's because I grew up in a gun-free home, but I've noticed the same interest among people who grew up around rifles, have shot rifles since childhood, and currently own dozens of rifles. There's something about a rifle that not even a handgun has. The only other inanimate object I can think of that excites such emotion in an owner is a car. Pick up a well-made rifle, hold it, feel its weight and balance. Look at the way metal and wood are fit together. Notice the way metal moves against metal, observe the way springs, cams, and levers all work together. Consider the intense heat and pressure the chamber and barrel are designed to contain, not once or twice, but thousands of times over the useful life of the weapon. Consider the barrel, accurately machined to within thousandths of an inch. All designed to send a tiny projectile a great distance into a target of the shooters choosing. All so well made that if the shot misses its intended target the most likely cause is shooter error.
When you think about it rifles are truly incredible machines. A rifle built over a hundred years ago is every bit as effective for the job it was designed for as one built this year. Compare a Mauser built in the last quarter of the 19th century with a brand-new, still in the box Remington offering. Assuming the Mauser has been properly maintained and not abused it will do anything you could ask the Remington to do, and if you notice any difference in performance it'll likely be the Mauser on top.
So Christmas is fast approaching and my wife has agreed that a rifle will be The Gift for me this year. That won't make me a rifleman, it'll merely mark the first step, I'll be a rifle owner. That whole mastery of my life thing is intimidating, but it's essential. I'll let you know how it goes.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Dad's Stories - Part 2
Since both of my faithful readers enjoyed Dad's Stories - Part 1 I thought I'd follow with part 2. As with last time I make no claims for the actual truth of this story, and only say that it's either true or it ought to be.
When my Dad was a young man (probably a teenager) he lived in Hoboken, NJ and worked in a ship yard there. His foreman was a man by the name of Dave McGillary (I have no idea if I'm spelling his name correctly, I'm spelling as best I can from my memory of how Dad pronounced it). Dave wore a jacket and tie complete with starched collars to work every day. Every morning he'd come in, look up, examine the weather, and proclaim "'T ain't bad out today." It didn't matter what the weather actually was, raining, snowing, cold, hot, foggy, sunny, the weather was classified as "'t aint bad".
One day my Dad and his friends/co-workers were proving the axiom that one boy is half a man while two boys are no man at all, they were amusing themselves by dumping buckets of water from the Hudson river on each other from higher levels of wherever they were working. (I suspect the soakings Dad got from this had a lot to do with his robust immune system later in life.) My Dad knew they were waiting to get him once he went thru a doorway so he went around the other way to get into the shop area he needed to work in without his friends seeing him. His friends dumped the water on the first person to walk thru the door, who happened to be Dave McGillary. Picture a man in jacket and tie getting soaked with filthy Hudson river water, he starched collars curling up as the water soaked in. Dad made himself look "as busy as a cat covering poop on a tin roof" (Dad didn't use the word "poop", but you get the idea.) Dave pointed to him and said "Harold, if you weren't standing right in front of me when I got soaked I'd blame you!" and went off to find the miscreants.
When my Dad was a young man (probably a teenager) he lived in Hoboken, NJ and worked in a ship yard there. His foreman was a man by the name of Dave McGillary (I have no idea if I'm spelling his name correctly, I'm spelling as best I can from my memory of how Dad pronounced it). Dave wore a jacket and tie complete with starched collars to work every day. Every morning he'd come in, look up, examine the weather, and proclaim "'T ain't bad out today." It didn't matter what the weather actually was, raining, snowing, cold, hot, foggy, sunny, the weather was classified as "'t aint bad".
One day my Dad and his friends/co-workers were proving the axiom that one boy is half a man while two boys are no man at all, they were amusing themselves by dumping buckets of water from the Hudson river on each other from higher levels of wherever they were working. (I suspect the soakings Dad got from this had a lot to do with his robust immune system later in life.) My Dad knew they were waiting to get him once he went thru a doorway so he went around the other way to get into the shop area he needed to work in without his friends seeing him. His friends dumped the water on the first person to walk thru the door, who happened to be Dave McGillary. Picture a man in jacket and tie getting soaked with filthy Hudson river water, he starched collars curling up as the water soaked in. Dad made himself look "as busy as a cat covering poop on a tin roof" (Dad didn't use the word "poop", but you get the idea.) Dave pointed to him and said "Harold, if you weren't standing right in front of me when I got soaked I'd blame you!" and went off to find the miscreants.
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