Reading Matter--Part 1

Son-in-law Chuck takes the N Y Times, and daughter Kristin subscribes to the New Yorker. The latter brought seven recent issues of the latter magazine to us during our last visit to the house in Colorado that she designed for us some twenty years ago. It was an embarrassment of riches. Most of those issues will have to await our return early in 2013. Barbara loves the Science pages in the N. Y. Times, and a dear friend clips them for her. She skims, and I devour, the San Francisco Chronicle or the Boulder Daily Camera every day of the year. She also reads a Norwegian English language weekly newspaper. Yes, we are all committed readers of magazines. Barbara and I almost fight over the Saturday arrival of The Week, our current favorite. Last week, she hid it, I found it, and then I re-hid it, waiting for the inevitable cries of frustration. Perhaps I gave in too easily, but she skims it rapidly, while I read it from cover to cover. I start the crossword, which emphasizes current affairs. (When I become stuck, usually on something like a sitcom or other commercial TV program which we never watch, I "cheat", by using Google to finish the puzzle. I didn't need to do that on the latest isue) Barbara began a subscription to Newsweek some years ago, and earlier this year I began reading it, from cover to cover. Alas, economics are forcing it to go digital-only, and we have decided to pass on that. I read the U.C. Monthly (California), four seminary magazines, the Commonwealth Club magazine, Oxford English, the Lincoln College Record and IMPrint, the CLU (California Lutheran University) magazine, The Living Church, and the Royal Overseas league quarterly. I proofread our parish monthly, and I read much more that comes in the mail. I know: I'm an unrepentant, omnivorous, "print junkie". Some notes about books in a future blog.

Soflee, soflee, catchee monkee

Fifty years ago, Pidgin English had a bad reputation. Nowadays, the value of any pidgin--essentially a simplified language to permit two or more folk without a common language to communicate--is widely recognized . I shall never forget becoming aware of this, when my ship (H.M.S. Black Swan) first visited Shanghai in 1947. I was accustomed to the cooks, stewards, and "supernumerary" laundrymen chattering away in Cantonese, but that's not the Mandarin dialect spoken in Shanghai. I watched, fascinated, as the Chief Steward used pidgin English when negotiating for fresh vegetables with the occupants of the various sampans that swarmed alongside.. So I am not embarrassed to use pidgin to write the aphorism that heads this blog, just as I learned it. It is useful in a benign, not hostile, sense, with no thought of trapping and caging an animal. I consider it good advice: that sometimes patience, perhaps with a streak of guile, is often the wisest way to accomplish an objective. .

"How are you today?"

The flood of political solicitations - thankfully, primarily by email, has come to a welcome end. In its place, we receive a lot of charitable solicitations at this time of year. We take advantage of the system to prevent commercial solicitations by email or voice. Whenever I hear the call from a stranger which begins "How are you today?", I know it's another pitch. I have recently learned a polite brush-off, so that I do not have to listen to this unwelcome interruption. I guess that telephone solicitors are taught to begin their pitch with this question, which virtually demands a response, unless one is willing to respond politely but firmly to end the conversation. I have my own list of charities that I choose to support. I am slightly more likely to respond positively to an email "pitch". If this is a telephone "pitch", the caller should identify herself or himself, and explain briefly the reason for the call. If I hear "How are you today?", I try to "bite my tongue" and not give one of several possible dusty answers.

Select Your Gender

I nowadays have the leisure to undertake online surveys. A frequent question asks the participant "Select your Gender" No, this is not another rant about my dislike of the use of a grammatical term to avoid mentioning "sex". It is the giggle factor in the idea that one can actually select ones sexual orientation. There are just two options: M or F. No opportunity to be L,G,B,T, or Q. Since I am just a straight M, my dismay is second-hand, for those not so straightforwardly identified. That being the case, I am left wondering why the designer didn't just display two boxes, one for M and one for F. Come to think of it, that would at least give the opportunity for bisexuals to mark both boxes. Not that this would work: the participants are limited to choose one orientation if they want to respond to the survey.

Bacon Cheeseburger

I normally adhere to a sensible diet when at home. Fresh fruit (or a smoothie) at breakfast precedes an egg, or some sausage, or smoked salmon. Lunch is half a sandwich, an apple, three prunes, and a bite of plain chocolate. You get the point. We enjoy train journeys, mostly limited in recent years to the California Zephyr, from Emeryville to Denver. We travel "First Class", which gives us a sleeper and meals in the diner. The menu is, properly, very much Main Street America. Nothing exotic or spicy. Frozen vegetables are microwaved and (in our opinion) inedible. Iceberg lettuce highlights the dinner salads There are choices at each meal. AMTRAK knows its customers, and there are limitations in what they can do. Dinner rolls are served at the main meals;, unappetizing "croissants" or biscuits at breakfast. One very popular lunch offering, always on the menu, is the "Angus Burger", with optional bacon and/or cheese. On our recent trip, I chose this: it comes with lettuce, sliced onion, and tomato, There are packets of mayonnaise, mustard, and ketchup..I happily ate everything, and actually felt "stuffed". I enjoyed it, in a forgiving mood--but once a year is about my limit.

"Decommit"

This was a new one to me. Each year, colleges have a certain date when they are allowed to recruit high school graduates to make a commitment to attend their choice of an institution, to "continue their education". Football players are the most highly sought after. Apart from being awarded full "scholarships" (itself a ridiculous misuse of an award made without any evidence of academic worthiness), there are often "under the counter" payments to the youth or his (or her) family, to induce him or her to "study" and play football or other sport at that institution. There is pressure on the young persons to "commit" to a certain college. In my vocabulary, a "commitment" is a promise to take a certain action. I always thought that a commitment was a binding promise, in this case to attend a certain college. Apparently not so. I don't know what constraints are place on those who "commit"--or on the selected college--but I recently read of two students "decommitting". (Presumably, some other college made a better offer.) Although I have long realized that some college sports are heavily commercialized, I am dismayed at this news--but I can't say I am exactly shocked.

Canvassing, U.K.style

Despite my longing for this drawn-out electoral season to be over, I must report my pride in a family member who is volunteering, despite having a busy full-time job. Those who register voters and make phone calls are maintaining our democratic heritage. This brings back memories of sixty years ago, when I was active in the U.K. at the time of national elections. As an undergraduate, I went to work (over time) in at least three different constituencies. We received free board and lodging, and were under the direction of local leaders. Two of my forays were in marginal constituencies in the Midlands, one being Hucknall. One was in a safe Tory seat (Salisbury), where I was put up at the beautiful home of a wealthy surgeon and his charming wife, in the Cathedral Close. Happy memories! We would speak at "town hall" meetings, make calls on homes, and engage in stump-type speeches, using a loudspeaker in various neighborhoods. Fortunately for our fellow-citizens, campaigns lasted only six weeks, after the Prime Minister had called for new elections. Constituencies in England were quite compact. It was very important to identify your supporters, and make sure that they voted. We had lists of all eligible voters by streets, and we would knock on every door for a short inquiry. We would mark up our list to identify those who favored our candidate, those opposed, and "uncertain". (Experience taught us that almost all of those in the latter category were also opposed.) We would also ask our supporters if the needed transportation to the polls, and (if so) we would make arrangements to get them ther as early as convenient. On election day, we would have workers at the polling place, who would do their best to learn who had come to vote, and we would mark them off on our lists. With about two hours until the polls closed, we would send a car to the address of the missing voter, and offer a ride to the precinct. Nowadays we vote by mail. This year, our ballots were in the mailbox more than three weeks prior to November 6