Epiphany, 2012

-
A picture from the Boston Globe -- dozens of men, arms in arm, in a cold January European river, awaiting the priest to toss in the golden cross; they will dive and scramble to find the cross and the man who finds it will be blessed with health this year.
Believers sing and dance in the river Tundzha, as they celebrate Epiphany day in the town of Kalofer, Bulgaria Friday, Jan. 6, 2012. Traditionally, an Eastern Orthodox priest throws a cross in the river and it is believed that the one who retrieves it will be healthy through the year. 

I'm in my living room, reading a review of Didion's new book -- about as vicarious as one can be -- and note her descriptions of cucumber and watercress sandwiches at her daughter's wedding. I'm not sure what a cucumber sandwich really is. I know it would be easy enough to look it up, but since that's not really part of my life experience, isn't it something to just go on in a mysterious awe of people and events that consume cucumber and watercress sandwiches? I could never, for example, serve cucumber and watercress sandwiches to my family, so why pretend it would be something I could pull off?

Her descriptions are alien to me. And I think about alien-ness and -ation. 

It's the sixth of January and my two housemates, from Pennsylvania, are still asleep after ten o'clock. That's alien to me -- I don't think there has ever been a day in my life when I've slept that late. I couldn't do that. On the other hand, for them, a 70° day in the first week of January is equally alien, which is why they're here -- to play golf on green turf when their home courses are covered in white. But outside my living room window, which is open through the night this week, the finches are eating the seed I've put down. They are in undeclared competition with the squirrel, who always gets there first, is always there once the birds go away, and is less afraid of my presence when I stand and watch. He is alien to them and they to him; I am alien to the finches and they are alien to me. 


Animals stare at us, waiting to flee. They have this zone of protection, knowing that most often they're faster than us. The squirrel would allow me to come within six feet or so before he scampers (how often can we use a great verb like "scamper"?) up the pine trunk, across a branch, leap effortlessly to another pine, another branch, then fly off to a neighbor's tree, and onto a house roof. I feed these little rodents and they still flee. The finches have a larger zone, though they're faster -- I can be behind the window, across the room, but if they see my shadow, they leap into the air, the flutter of their wings beating their sound panic and escape. I feed these birds and they still flee. 

The squirrel left a few minutes ago. I haven't moved from my reading chair, but he left for some personal errand. He's back now, watching me while his little paws hold the seed to his little teeth, teeth that would split my hand if it ever got too close. The pik-pik sound he makes as he eats, the flutter of the finches, their song in the trees a few yards away -- all these are as alien as cucumber and watercress sandwiches, and men diving for golden crosses in cold January rivers.

Popular posts from this blog

Student Feedback on the State of the Public Sphere in Harris County, Texas and Houston

-
Image
I asked my students (my teachers) today what they've learned so far in this summer course on public sphere rhetoric. Some held their heads down -- because they've learned nothing? -- because they've not yet learned to speak up? -- because they don't believe in public rhetoric? -- because of their own insecurities? I don't know. Most of the responses below came from five students. Their authorities take no responsibility for communicating with the stakeholders  Authoritative texts too difficult to locate; language often inappropriately difficult for public to use  Lack of sufficient documentation and literature reflects authorities' apathy towards public engagement   Our own lack of knowledge about the power structures increases both our and their apathy  Public fails to recognize problems because we have been habituated to "learned helplessness"  Public notices but feel powerless because we've been taught we can't change anything  A
Read more

On Independence Day, Fourth of July, Fireworks Day, Whatever We Call It

-
Image
In general, I avoid observing holidays, especially those which have been marketed from an original intent of respect or adoration into a Bacchanalia of barbecue, escape from one's workplace, and the purchase of stuff we don't need, stuff that will quickly be found at the local landfill. Most of these "holidays" are far from the idea of "holy days" once on the calendar, and have been mutated into something of a masquerade. When children have little idea of the original intention of a holiday, or when adults have no idea of the same, then we might have a problem. I've spoken with adults who have no idea what Memorial Day is about, never have heard of Armistice Day, never think of veterans on Veterans Day, go into significant debt for the Feast of Saturnalia (or Festivus , if you prefer), who conflate chocolate bunnies for Easter (even for Passover), and ultimately see the Fourth of July as an opportunity to leave work, eat, complain that the Postal Servic
Read more

Visiting a Texas Prison

-
It's exhausting, emotionally. It's not necessarily the emotions of why he is in prison and what he experiences in prison -- that's another discussion and I separate those emotions from the visit itself. The gates open for visitors at 7:00 a.m., but that means I need to get there at 6:30 to get in line; I arrived in Beeville the previous evening and just captured a hotel. The town has limited food selections (and poor beer selection), so I have no reason to get outdoors except to appreciate a nice spring day of south Texas. That morning, the moon was near full and brilliantly shined on the flat fields around the prison, a mix of brush oaks, and the grasses for hundreds of acres on the unit property. The chilled air made the morning even more pleasant and while I waited for the gate to open, I thought about camping down here. Ultimately, the gate guards permitted visitors to approach the gate, the first of the all-grey officers: turn off the engine, open the trunk and ho
Read more