Quebecker
Est. 1984
A month of Margaret Atwood
Jun 4th
I finished two Margaret Atwood books in May- the first being Oryx & Crake, and the second being the more famous Handmaid’s Tale.
I’ll start by saying that I enjoyed the former more than the latter- I’m a sucker for plausible sci-fi. Oryx and Crake is a story about the future of genetic alteration, which I feel is an inevitable outcome of the current pursuit of the human genome. Of course, what makes it an interesting topic is the horrible, dystopian society that comes from genetic manipulation gone too far. Too far is an interesting concept, in that it is only apparent after the event, which makes me wonder what will be the real ‘too far’. Will it be designer humans, who’s lack of physical flaw makes them shallow and uninteresting? Or, will it be a more sinister development, like a disease that infects people with certain genetic traits?
In any case, genetic tampering is destined to have an amibiguous impact on our species, sort of like atomic fission. The technology has the potential to ensure our survival for centuries, but in practicality brings us even closer to annihilation.
The other book, The Handmaid’s Tale, is less science-fictiony. It’s the story of a society that has slipped into a strict male hegemony, where fertile women are forced to copulate, so that they might reverse the negative birthrate that is crippling society.
What struck me about the style of both books is that they stay focused on the human emotions, and how they are affected by the events of the story. Stories that just focus on some grim, dystopian future can get pretty boring without emotional depth. I think that’s what I used to like about The Simpsons- the first couple of seasons had plausible events, real emotional texture, and rough production values. Now, the picture is sharp, and every episode involves a robot or a trip to the mountains/ocean/moon.
What happened?
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Let the Summer games commence!
May 17th
Yep, Spring is officially over. Those sticklers that say Summer doesn’t start until June 21 are full of crap- when I have to start mowing every two days, Summer in is the hizzy. Speaking of which, mowing is not the chore it once was around here. You might recall my adherence to the mowers of simpler times, and true to my word, I do not use a gas-powered mower. Instead, I bought a Craftsman battery-powered mower, which dispatches weed and grass with vigor.
Less time mowing means more time gardening, which is one of the most civilized things I do. Growing and caring for plants, observing which species do well in what conditions, and enjoying the results is an experience unparalleled in daily life. Currently, the star of the show is my rose bush. It was a gift from my folks after we finished the patio, and in two years it has grown enormous, with a fragrance that lifts my heart whenever I walk by. It also stabs me mercilessly when I try to trim off old buds.
Other than that, the regular flowers and vegetables will be appearing this year. I’m gonna grow hops, as well, but they won’t be planted until Fall.
Roses creeping up on April from behind
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Driving through Corn country
May 9th
I’ve been on the road alot lately. Last weekend I went to a small-town wedding, which gave me the opportunity to see the pleasures of small-town life, like driving your lawn mower into the gas station for lunch, and parking your horse trailer next to your mobile home. The reception was in Burlington, Iowa- a railroad town, if anything, but with a number of pleasant surprises. Ape and I stayed at the Squirrel’s Nest Inn, a B&B overlooking the muddy Mississipp. The room was comfy, but the fresh-baked cookies put this place over the top. Stay there if you get the chance!
This trip stood in sharp contrast to the next journey, which was a work trip to Dublin, Ohio. On the way to Burlington, we took two-lane roads that shamboled through pastures and fields. The road to Dublin was straight, narrow, and dull. It was, however, fast. I covered 400 miles in about 6.5 hours, stopping only once for some nourishment. I pulled off in Mt. Comfort, Indiana, and found that the restaurants available to me were Burger King, McDonald’s, Wendy’s, and Subway. Since none of these meet my criteria for nourishment, I bought some granola bars in the gas station and motored on.
Dublin rests in the northwest corner of Columbus, and feels like a small town in spite of it’s surroundings. Highly recommended eats include La Chatelaine, a french restaurant, and Jeni’s, an ice cream place. It’s worth mentioning that Jeni’s can be ordered online, and the Pistachio & Honey ice cream is superb.
What’s really fun about driving in the Midwest is the town names- I can truthfully say I saw London, Paris, Dublin, New Dehli, and I was near Troy, Venice, and hope to get to Athens when I go see my folks. Beat that, Carmen SanDiego.
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The Golden Compass
Apr 14th
In spite of the trials of the last few weeks, I really enjoyed reading The Golden Compass. For me, reading fantasy is one of the most immersive experiences you can get. In comparison to fantasy, reality-fiction or even movies are a bore. Why should that be? I’ve heard that the more difficulty people have dealing the world the live in, the more likely they are to embrace alternate realities.
Whatever the case, I relished every page of the book, and dreaded having to finish it. The story takes place in an alternate universe, similar in many respects to our own; the most intriguing difference (in my opinion) is that every human has a daemon, which is an animal companion that is the equivalent of a soul. A daemon is consciously bound to it’s human, and vice-versa. The story stresses how comforting it is to have a constant companion who can share your thoughts and emotions- an interesting concept. Whatever the nature of love is, I don’t think love attains the level of complexity and closeness that this bond represents.
I was also interested to uncover the purported anti-clerical motives in the book. Specifically, I’d heard that the book railed against the abuses of the Catholic Church, portrayed by the sinister Magesterium that stalks the main character Lyra. Frankly, I don’t see what the big deal is- the book is no more critical than a thousand other anti-Catholic texts, all of which contain a kernel of truth about the historical misdeeds of the Church. I guess it’s the time we live in- the book was published around 1995, a time when the eternal religious hysteria combined with a newly-developing hysteria that criticism (justified or not) of any single group or belief was wrong (I recently read about another manifestion of this hysteria- a row over the Q’uran being on a low shelf in the library, next to the Bible and Torah. Evidently, Islam dictates that their Holy Book must be placed above all others. Pragmatic librarians and Christians disagree, for different reasons).
The story was well-crafted and the characters were complex, but I was confused by the writing at times. Some things I had to re-read 10 times, just to make sure I understood the meaning (and sometimes I couldn’t understand even then).
Anyway, it’s a good read that I heartily recommend.
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A misty enemy
Apr 12th
It’s been two weeks since my Dad was diagnosed with cancer. I was at work when he called to tell me; I remember it clearly. At least, I remember the feeling of hearing the news- I have no idea at all what I said in return. It was like every synapse in my brain had suddenly darkened. My thoughts and emotions were completely suspended- I felt no fear, anxiety, doubt, not even sorrow. Everything was completely still.
In the few minutes between hanging up and leaving work, I was inundated with thoughts of what might happen. To clear my head, I decided to go for a walk. The weather was beautiful, but there was no solace in a Spring day. Until that day, cancer was a vague thing; now the meaning of the word had changed entirely. I liken it to the rainforest: everyone discusses it , frequently but abstractly, and until you’ve felt it’s presence, it’s really only a word. It’s much more than a word to me now. I walked for hours, searching for something to anchor myself to, something to comfort me. There were a dozen people I could talk to, a dozen shoulders to cry on. Unfortunately, some things have to be reconciled from within; the sympathy of others is cold comfort.
Not long after getting the news, I accepted what had happened to my Dad because I believe he’ll survive it. He’s young, healthy, and stubborn; what better armor to have for the fight to survive?
Worry was quickly replaced by genuine hope, but that doesn’t make cancer any easier. For my own part, the most difficult part of the last two weeks has been worrying about my family. My hitherto one-dimensional understanding of cancer was confined to the patient, but cancer gnaws at the hearts of everyone around the patient. People can be undone by worry, especially since the popular face of cancer is the victims, not the survivors (of which there are many).
If the last two weeks were difficult, the next two should be a little easier. The largest tumor has been removed with great success, and a little recovery time is in order before chemotherapy starts.
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Dead and Dreaming
Mar 29th
The news came on Thursday that my Great-Grandma had died. I’d heard that she believed there wasn’t much time left to live, and it turns out she was right.
What a blessing it must be, to be so prepared to die. If I thought I were going to die soon, the weight of everything I’d left undone would be crushing. She was well into her 90′s, so maybe she felt there wasn’t much left to be done with her life. Maybe it’s worse than I imagine- knowing that the great decisions of life all lay behind, rather than ahead. It would be easy to lose one’s sense of purpose (which has nothing to do with age, it can happen to anyone). Of course, it all depends on your perspective- no matter how aged they become, some folks stay purpose-driven to their last day.
I find it interesting that so many people my age lose their sense of purpose. After obtaining a diploma in whatever field was supposed to get you a good job, they can’t find work. Maybe that’s why they so many of them get married- two people can give each other a sense of purpose, but I doubt the sustainability of such an arrangement. There has to be more to a relationship than two rudderless people.
For my own part, I can’t articulate what my purpose is just yet. There even be purposes; why limit myself to one thing?In any case, my family has gotten just a bit smaller. It’s difficult to grasp the loss of someone you haven’t seen for a long time- if I may make a blunt analogy, it’s like a tree losing a limb. There’s only a dim awareness that something is different, and looking at the extant branches is proof that one is missing.
There was a death very close to my home this weekend, too.
A brother and sister were playing on an old conrete aquaduct a few hundred yards from my house. I’d walked by the site several times; it’s on a small lane that is amazingly well-hidden within a developed city. On Friday, the aquaduct collapsed, killed the sister and trapped the brother. April and I were working in the yard when we heard the sirens go by, which is not at all uncommon since there’s a firestation about a half-mile from our house. The sign that something was really wrong came roaring over the tops of the trees; a medical helicopter flew so close over our heads I could feel the force of the blades.
It touched down across the street in the schoolyard, as more police and firemen arrived. I had no idea what had happened, but a crowd was gathering to watch the helicopter, and folks were exchanging rumors. Evidently, there was a boy trapped somewhere. A few minutes later, news helicopters appeared in the sky like giant locusts, and our neighbor was watching their live broadcast. It was announced that a boy had been trapped beneath fallen concrete, and was being carefully extracted.
Awhile later, we watched the medical helicopter lift off, the boy safely inside. After observing the relative calm with which they transported and attended the stretcher, I suspected the boy was safe. Elated by a successful rescue, April and I decided to take a ride that evening, so we set off into the cool evening air for a trip around the city.
On the way home, we noticed that there was still a news helicopter hovering over the site of the accident, about 2 hours after we’d seen the boy safely lifted away. Totally non-plused, we rode by the aquaduct, which was still teeming with rescue and police officers.
At home, we checked the news for updates. Evidently, the boy had sister who was with him during the collapse- she was already dead when the rescuers arrived.
What a horrible realization it was. Earlier, we were happy that the boy was safely rescued, and assumed that disaster had been averted. Now, we still feel shock. We’d walked by the aquaduct so many times, never giving it a thought. Similarly, there are always kids outside playing in our neighborhood. This is the way the world ought to be.
The aquaduct has since been completely destroyed, the damage done to the family immeasurable, and a cloud of malaise hangs over our neighborhood. It’s not possible to completely grasp a tragedy like this, but the effects are usually much more salient.
What concerns me most is that parents will be even more restrictive with their kids. Accidents make us consider what we would do if we were the victim, and I’m certain many parents are full of chagrin thinking about what could happen to their children.
Not being parent, I have a limited understanding of their thoughts. As a human, I will say this much: I think a worse fate than death is a life of constant protection and insulation. In this case, the child was playing outdoors with her sibling, not watching TV, playing video games, snacking, or any of the myriad things kids are accused of doing too much. These were two kids enjoying life.
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Kitchexplosion, meet ReStore
Mar 28th
With Kitchexplosion winding down, we find ourselves faced with a garage full of crap. Leftover boards, drywall, sinks, paint, rusty nails, it’s all crammed into the one-car wonder. In an effort to assuage our collective conscience, Ape and I agreed it would be wrong to throw it all in the nearby dumpster; rather we would take it to the Habitat ReStore in St. Louis.
It’s a great place to take leftovers from construction/destruction. After we dropped the kitchexplosion remains off, we browsed the warehouse for a few minutes. I’m pretty sure you could have built 15 houses from all the stuff they had, but there wasn’t anything I needed….this time.
Anyway, take your old stuff there rather than the dumpster. Maybe they should call it UnDumpster…
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Sink and Swim
Mar 24th
The Kitchexplosion 2009 inches towards completion- we now have a working sink, faucet, cabinets, a sink….
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Spring ist gesprungen
Mar 10th
There’s been too much going on for me to write these last few days. Or maybe I’ve been to tired to do it. Or both.
With that in mind, I’ll say that Spring has flung itself on central Illinois rather early this year. The seventies are a magical temperature; one or two days of that warmth and little green sprouts appear everywhere. In fact, this might be one of the only St. Patrick’s days I can remember where there was an abundance of clover on the ground.
In honor of the warm weather, I went for a hike in the woods, something I enjoy immensely. The pleasure of walking in the woods is hard to define: it’s not a feeling of solitude that fills me when I walk the narrow path between trees; on the contrary, it feels like I’m right at home. The trees remind me of people, like I’m walking through a crowd. Only these people aren’t doing anything; their only duty is to exist. I think that’s what I like about them- if humans like me just tried existing for awhile, without appointments or distractions, without emotion, without thought, life might not feel so overwhelming.
So I tried it.
I tried to just exist in the woods- I didn’t talk, hum, sing, or create any other disturbance. I also tried not thinking, but that turns out to be really difficult, since the act of willing yourself not to think takes a conscious effort. Instead, I tried to only think about my surroundings, and forget about the past and future. Emotion was out too, but that’s not as difficult to supress as thought. Practiced meditators might be able to suspend thought and emotion, and verge on tree-like, but not me.
Instead, I tried to behave like an animal; not devoid of thought, but ignoring things that aren’t immenently affecting me. For a couple of hours, I resigned from my responsibilities as homo-sapiens, master of the Earth. It didn’t last, as you might have guessed, but it was interesting at the time.
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Baby, it’s cold outside
Mar 2nd
Fortunately, I can still bask in the warm glow of the Interweb. I like it when libraries make information available online; I love it when they do so in a format that regular people can understand. Some librarians are completely unaware that using the library can be considered a customer experience; what’s more, most librarians eschew the word ‘customer’ when referring to users of the library. To me, the only difference is that people have already paid for library services, whereas they have a choice of what to buy in a store.
I’ve noticed that library websites tend to resemble old Carnegie library buildings; many of them look a bit dated, there’s too much material in too little space, and it can be quite difficult to find what you want. In defense of the Carnegie buildings, they possess a bookish atmosphere that can be very welcoming. For websites, however, the effect is mostly negative.
The trouble seems to be that librarians want library websites to be created in their own bookish image- organized by some long-dead system of classifying information, with one-click access to a dizzying array of bibliographic information, online databases, and other library bricabac. Not easy to use at all, if you don’t have your Master’s degree in library science.
In fairness, there should be some continuity between the physical library and it’s website- that’s natural. But for library websites, the medium is the message. It’s our way of staying relevant- and the time has already come that library users are expecting more than we are giving them.
Anyway, what all this was leading to is that I found a library website that impresses me- and right in my neck of the woods:
Best of all, it runs on wordpress, just like my blogola. Is there anything that can’t be done with open-source software?
*If you guessed ‘open a Microsoft Publisher file’, then you’re right
