A journey across the United States from Central Texas to San Diego left me less intrigued than I expected, particularly as I roamed the bay area around the beautiful city of San Diego. The boats, yachts, battleships, cruise lines, shops, restaurants, furs, joggers, families, and the homeless all shape the incredibly energetic and distinctive culture of San Diego, California. I fell in love with the city and realized that given the opportunity I would sincerely enjoy living in San Diego.
Yet part of me became disappointed as I visited with the people, those indigenous to the area, those native to San Diego, those whose behavior, style, preferences should be unique to the area in some way. I discovered that their responses and their actions were eerily similar to my own. We recognized each other not by geographical region but by our humanness. We laughed at the same humor, grew concerned at the same problems, responded in the same basic ways to events, ate the same kind of food, and seemed to look for the same things in the environment.
Of course some of this could be attributed to being humans as opposed to creatures from other worlds, but is it possible that our culture is becoming as one? Are we inadvertently, slowly, assiduously blending our worlds into one world culture?
It began with communication that developed into some common languages as the printing press came into vogue and books became the norm. Eventually this moved to the Pony Express, the telegraph, telephone, radio, television, email, and now a proliferation of instant communication and media through the Internet. All of these events and more have led to a breakdown and leveling of culture. We find ourselves in a precarious but joyful position of knowing how people across the globe react to stimuli. We tend to laugh at the same things, cry at the same sentiment, and love in the same way. This is due to our assimilation of cultures via the media which governs our lives.
I am not proposing an abolishment of media, and I am not even convinced there is anything negative, but in some ways it disappoints me to discover very little that is new and actually to see myself in a region that is 1200 miles away. At the same time, it is also comforting in the same way that returning home to our favorite blanket is security. We travel to unknown lands only to find they are known. We look far and seek the new but find ourselves looking in a mirror. The mountains and valleys of human differences are but plains leveled by the media of instant communication, giving us an awareness of the collective whole.
I contend that as we become more cosmopolitan and oddly unified, we lose and gain certain qualities. One argument for the continuation of cultural connectivity is that it is the mark of a refined society. Contractarianism becomes central to behavior regardless of geographical location. Yet, in some ways, those qualities unique to regions could get lost, thereby losing the charm and uniqueness that make a culture defined.
I do have to believe, however, that regardless of how "refined" we may become, cultures find a way to retain their individual identity and their independence. It remains to be seen what qualities last and what qualities disappear.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Eradication of the cherry
Walking through the mall, casually shopping for clothes and looking in the various stores along the path, Joel mentioned he would like to get a coke at Chick-fil-A. Gladly accommodating his request, we ambled that direction, entered the fast food restaurant, walked up to the counter and stood in line to order our drinks. Jacob had mentioned he wouldn't mind having a lemonade as well. But the poster of the new Peppermint Strawberry Shake caught Joel's attention.
His eyes shone brightly as he changed his mind and he asked me about getting the shake rather than the coke. I said sure, no problem, and he then said the words, "but no cherry." Being in an agreeable mode, I said yes rather absently and stood in line to order our drinks. Standing in any line is a challenge for me, not being of patient spirit. To pass the time, I can be found reading, looking around, thinking hard, imagining a world without lines, or a plethora of mental activities. In this case, I simply visited another cognitive zone for a few minutes. Finally I ordered the drinks, forgetting unfortunately to ask for the cherry to be excluded.
Receiving the drinks, we left the mall to head for the truck with the goal of driving home. On the way, Joel, in his objective but pointed manner, mentioned that the cherry was in the shake. Not necessarily accusingly nor forgivingly, he pointed out that he did not want the cherry. Climbing into the truck, Joel tried in vain to get the cherry. Refusing to drink the shake with the cherry, he had inadvertently engorged the dastardly object further down into the shake in his efforts to rid the refreshment of its ugliness known as a cherry.
Knowing he would not drink the shake until the cherry was gone, I asked Jacob to help him. Jacob did so and together they dug into the shake, found the cherry, removed the obstacle which Jacob subsequently ate in great haste to encourage Joel to drink his Peppermint Strawberry shake! All was well and Joel was happy.
Joel's autism, a disability since birth, does have an odd and often debilitating result. He gets focused on something and cannot let it go regardless of the seemingly innocuousness of the situation. To us it is just a little cherry in the midst of something wonderful, but to Joel is the central block to enjoyment. Take the problem away and happiness ensues. Our job as parents is to discern and predict the potential enemy before it enters the scene!
His eyes shone brightly as he changed his mind and he asked me about getting the shake rather than the coke. I said sure, no problem, and he then said the words, "but no cherry." Being in an agreeable mode, I said yes rather absently and stood in line to order our drinks. Standing in any line is a challenge for me, not being of patient spirit. To pass the time, I can be found reading, looking around, thinking hard, imagining a world without lines, or a plethora of mental activities. In this case, I simply visited another cognitive zone for a few minutes. Finally I ordered the drinks, forgetting unfortunately to ask for the cherry to be excluded.
Receiving the drinks, we left the mall to head for the truck with the goal of driving home. On the way, Joel, in his objective but pointed manner, mentioned that the cherry was in the shake. Not necessarily accusingly nor forgivingly, he pointed out that he did not want the cherry. Climbing into the truck, Joel tried in vain to get the cherry. Refusing to drink the shake with the cherry, he had inadvertently engorged the dastardly object further down into the shake in his efforts to rid the refreshment of its ugliness known as a cherry.
Knowing he would not drink the shake until the cherry was gone, I asked Jacob to help him. Jacob did so and together they dug into the shake, found the cherry, removed the obstacle which Jacob subsequently ate in great haste to encourage Joel to drink his Peppermint Strawberry shake! All was well and Joel was happy.
Joel's autism, a disability since birth, does have an odd and often debilitating result. He gets focused on something and cannot let it go regardless of the seemingly innocuousness of the situation. To us it is just a little cherry in the midst of something wonderful, but to Joel is the central block to enjoyment. Take the problem away and happiness ensues. Our job as parents is to discern and predict the potential enemy before it enters the scene!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Another day?
Okay, my cynical side often thinks that a day is simply another day. Regardless of the birthday or the celebration or anniversary or memory or event, it is simply another day. I recall the Y2K ubiquitous fear of 1999 where it was postured, even propagated, that the world as we know it would come to a screeching halt on January 1, 2000. Our blood ran cold as we feared the prophecy of the computer age destroying the essence of everything we call existence.
And we went to bed at midnight on December 31, 1999 wondering if we would have running water or electricity or an automobile or even a home on January 1. We woke up the next morning and experienced another day, a day like the day before and the day before and the year before and the decade before. Simply another day.
The question: Is Thanksgiving Day simply another day? The answer is yes. Since time and the calendar are both man-made entities (yes, I recognize the potential fallacy of this statement due to the natural revolution of the earth, the sun, the moon, etc.), it stands to reason that what we know as Thanksgiving could occur on any day in the year. In fact we can celebrate, eat turkey, cranberries, dressing, corn, and other delectable treats anytime we feel so led. To take it further, we can acknowledge historical events anytime we think about it. This can include your first tooth coming in, the birthday of your grandfather, the Declaration of Independence, your first automobile, the end of World War I, your first cell phone, or the end of communist reign in China.
We celebrate Thanksgiving Day as a historical reminder of the Pilgrims who ate with the Indians in a kind of marriage of two opposing cultures coming together to offer thanks for their sustenance. A charming and important event for sure. But overall it just seems like another day to me except for one thing--family! Regardless of the excuse, and regardless of the day that is set aside for turkey and lots of great food, the joy comes not from the day itself but from the opportunity to be with family.
In some ways I believe we should be thankful everyday for our blessings and I believe we should spend time with family whenever possible. We should not have to set aside a day for thankfulness or family time. But we do and I'm glad, for without Thanksgiving I have a feeling our times together would indeed be rare. It is at Thanksgiving we share, we eat, we enjoy each other's company and mostly spend quality time together. Yes, it is another day, but our culture has developed into a special day and a day I value. So my analytical, logical side answers the question with a yes, but my sensitive, emotional side answers with a resounding no!
And we went to bed at midnight on December 31, 1999 wondering if we would have running water or electricity or an automobile or even a home on January 1. We woke up the next morning and experienced another day, a day like the day before and the day before and the year before and the decade before. Simply another day.
The question: Is Thanksgiving Day simply another day? The answer is yes. Since time and the calendar are both man-made entities (yes, I recognize the potential fallacy of this statement due to the natural revolution of the earth, the sun, the moon, etc.), it stands to reason that what we know as Thanksgiving could occur on any day in the year. In fact we can celebrate, eat turkey, cranberries, dressing, corn, and other delectable treats anytime we feel so led. To take it further, we can acknowledge historical events anytime we think about it. This can include your first tooth coming in, the birthday of your grandfather, the Declaration of Independence, your first automobile, the end of World War I, your first cell phone, or the end of communist reign in China.
We celebrate Thanksgiving Day as a historical reminder of the Pilgrims who ate with the Indians in a kind of marriage of two opposing cultures coming together to offer thanks for their sustenance. A charming and important event for sure. But overall it just seems like another day to me except for one thing--family! Regardless of the excuse, and regardless of the day that is set aside for turkey and lots of great food, the joy comes not from the day itself but from the opportunity to be with family.
In some ways I believe we should be thankful everyday for our blessings and I believe we should spend time with family whenever possible. We should not have to set aside a day for thankfulness or family time. But we do and I'm glad, for without Thanksgiving I have a feeling our times together would indeed be rare. It is at Thanksgiving we share, we eat, we enjoy each other's company and mostly spend quality time together. Yes, it is another day, but our culture has developed into a special day and a day I value. So my analytical, logical side answers the question with a yes, but my sensitive, emotional side answers with a resounding no!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Book Scouting in San Diego
Unable to make a journey to a new land without doing some book scouting, I took a taxi to the part of San Diego where book stores reside. Most cities slowly, over time, become a series of towns or communities within a city. This is caused by racism, economics, new buildings, priority shifts, and many other factors difficult to project. Old book stores, hanging on by a letter, and hoping to find a market niche of some kind, a system that either defeats the internet or embraces it, are usually within a mile or two from each other. Often nearby is some kind of college or university surrounded by various thrift shops, cafes, coffee houses, and a plethora of specialty shops.
After a speedy taxi ride where I learned my driver was quite frustrated with his "worrying and anxious" wife who did not want her 13 year old son out past 11 at night (he maintained she was being silly and not wanting her son to grow up), I arrived in the scholar district and walked into a book store. As I have done hundreds of times, I stood near the doorway to learn the store. Each book store has a character, a personality, a system, and an energy that shouts at me. Some stores seem tired, as though their heyday is long past, others seem to shine and bristle with knowledge, eager for a customer to enter the world and leave a better person with books in hand. Some stores have a nice mix of hardbacks and paperbacks, or more non-fiction than fiction, or more childrens books or adult books or political or history or collectibles or simply a little of everything.
Looking around carefully with what I perceived as my "book grin," an odd smile that overtakes me when I am around books of all kinds, a euphoric grin that naturally emanates when I see a book, I realized I was in a store that valued non-fiction over fiction and made more money selling sexual oriented books than anything else. Yet, the visit was not a waste for against one long wall was the literature section. Always curious how the owner separates the "literature" from the "non-literature," I began to scout.
My quest for books involves first hardback fiction and a look for particular authors--Roth, McMurtry, McCarthy, Greene, Vidal, Burgess, Mailer--to name a few. Then I head to the mystery area to look for Fleming, Crider, Spillane, MacDonald, and perhaps Morrell. I look for books in good condition, preferably 1st editions, that are not ruined with too many personal comments in the margins. I then head to the history section, the theology area, and finally the music and fine arts. Near the end of my sojourn, I take several minutes studying the collectible books. Using a discerning but quick eye, I determine which books I have to have and which ones will need to stay on the shelf! I remind myself not to look simply at those books which are eye level but to look up, to get on the ground, to look behind the obvious, to find the gem that just might be hiding in some way. To treat each book as a special vessel through gentle handling is an essential requirement of a book scout.
Finding two early James Bond editions, wrestling with a nice Victor Hugo, and wondering idly how many books on sex the world really needs, I headed across the street to another store. This was a smaller store with limited stock most of which seemed focused on homosexuality and lesbianism. Yet as I looked at the few collectibles, I saw a gem. A well-used but in good condition Forgotten Village by Steinbeck! The price looked like $125 but the cashier assured me it was $12. Buying it quickly, and getting directions to another store, I left feeling quite satisfied with my venture.
I walked 15 city blocks to another very small store, argued with myself about purchasing a signed book for $75, bought a biography of Teddy Roosevelt, and took a cab back to the hotel. This ride was more rewarding as we discussed Ethiopian worship practices in San Diego. The driver was quite intelligent and perceptive as he pointed out the differences between typical African-American worship styles as compared with Ethiopian preferences. It was quite enlightening and I wish it could have continued. But it was time for dinner with some friends!
Another successful book scouting journey for me!
After a speedy taxi ride where I learned my driver was quite frustrated with his "worrying and anxious" wife who did not want her 13 year old son out past 11 at night (he maintained she was being silly and not wanting her son to grow up), I arrived in the scholar district and walked into a book store. As I have done hundreds of times, I stood near the doorway to learn the store. Each book store has a character, a personality, a system, and an energy that shouts at me. Some stores seem tired, as though their heyday is long past, others seem to shine and bristle with knowledge, eager for a customer to enter the world and leave a better person with books in hand. Some stores have a nice mix of hardbacks and paperbacks, or more non-fiction than fiction, or more childrens books or adult books or political or history or collectibles or simply a little of everything.
Looking around carefully with what I perceived as my "book grin," an odd smile that overtakes me when I am around books of all kinds, a euphoric grin that naturally emanates when I see a book, I realized I was in a store that valued non-fiction over fiction and made more money selling sexual oriented books than anything else. Yet, the visit was not a waste for against one long wall was the literature section. Always curious how the owner separates the "literature" from the "non-literature," I began to scout.
My quest for books involves first hardback fiction and a look for particular authors--Roth, McMurtry, McCarthy, Greene, Vidal, Burgess, Mailer--to name a few. Then I head to the mystery area to look for Fleming, Crider, Spillane, MacDonald, and perhaps Morrell. I look for books in good condition, preferably 1st editions, that are not ruined with too many personal comments in the margins. I then head to the history section, the theology area, and finally the music and fine arts. Near the end of my sojourn, I take several minutes studying the collectible books. Using a discerning but quick eye, I determine which books I have to have and which ones will need to stay on the shelf! I remind myself not to look simply at those books which are eye level but to look up, to get on the ground, to look behind the obvious, to find the gem that just might be hiding in some way. To treat each book as a special vessel through gentle handling is an essential requirement of a book scout.
Finding two early James Bond editions, wrestling with a nice Victor Hugo, and wondering idly how many books on sex the world really needs, I headed across the street to another store. This was a smaller store with limited stock most of which seemed focused on homosexuality and lesbianism. Yet as I looked at the few collectibles, I saw a gem. A well-used but in good condition Forgotten Village by Steinbeck! The price looked like $125 but the cashier assured me it was $12. Buying it quickly, and getting directions to another store, I left feeling quite satisfied with my venture.
I walked 15 city blocks to another very small store, argued with myself about purchasing a signed book for $75, bought a biography of Teddy Roosevelt, and took a cab back to the hotel. This ride was more rewarding as we discussed Ethiopian worship practices in San Diego. The driver was quite intelligent and perceptive as he pointed out the differences between typical African-American worship styles as compared with Ethiopian preferences. It was quite enlightening and I wish it could have continued. But it was time for dinner with some friends!
Another successful book scouting journey for me!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Polite
Venturing through the shops around the bay area in San Diego, I enjoyed visiting with some of the people. In particular, buying something small often opens up conversations with cashiers and employees of the store. Using certain ice-breaking techniques such as "this is a very nice store" or "how is business these days" or "you can't get this where I live" usually results in a conversation of some kind or another. One of my favorite questions I like to ask is "Where do you think I am from?" One person said Boston and another person said Seattle, but most of them said Texas.
I am a Texan through and through having lived here most of my life. Yes, it's true I was born in California but both parents were from Texas and we moved to Texas soon after my 5th birthday. But it did surprise me that people in San Diego labeled me a Texan so quickly. After all, I do not wear boots or a Cowboy hat and I work hard to avoid a Texas drawl (although I suspect it is still present at times). So after one young lady said "Texas," I asked her how she knew. She said I was polite and friendly!
Okay, guilty and proud of it! I don't mind being labeled a Texan if it is due to these qualities. But the truth is that I am not always polite and friendly. In fact, I wonder if I am more polite outside the state than in my own hometown! That would be rather sad if it were true. But because the young lady in San Diego said I was polite and friendly, I have decided to become what she in fact said, a polite and friendly Texan! Certainly there are worse things to be.
Tomorrow I practice what someone told me I am. I will hold the door for people, allow others to go ahead of me, use correct table manners, avoid interrupting, smile often, and reach out to people around me. It all sounds like a tall order but necessary if I am going to reach my potential as a true Texan!
I am a Texan through and through having lived here most of my life. Yes, it's true I was born in California but both parents were from Texas and we moved to Texas soon after my 5th birthday. But it did surprise me that people in San Diego labeled me a Texan so quickly. After all, I do not wear boots or a Cowboy hat and I work hard to avoid a Texas drawl (although I suspect it is still present at times). So after one young lady said "Texas," I asked her how she knew. She said I was polite and friendly!
Okay, guilty and proud of it! I don't mind being labeled a Texan if it is due to these qualities. But the truth is that I am not always polite and friendly. In fact, I wonder if I am more polite outside the state than in my own hometown! That would be rather sad if it were true. But because the young lady in San Diego said I was polite and friendly, I have decided to become what she in fact said, a polite and friendly Texan! Certainly there are worse things to be.
Tomorrow I practice what someone told me I am. I will hold the door for people, allow others to go ahead of me, use correct table manners, avoid interrupting, smile often, and reach out to people around me. It all sounds like a tall order but necessary if I am going to reach my potential as a true Texan!
A word or two on health
Hard to believe that after such a long hiatus without blogging, I would choose this topic for the next entry. Yet sometimes I feel compelled to write on a subject that interests me. I am currently in San Diego, California on a business trip and enjoying the scenery, the food, the climate, and the people. I spent a couple of hours in book stores yesterday and walked the streets watching people and experiencing the city life.
It occurred to me though that as I walked through the city and later along the bay, I did not see any overweight people. Of course it is certainly possible that those who are overweight chose not to be out in this area or chose to eat at different restaurants. But perhaps there is another reason for this. Before I go on, I must say that I am not critical of overweight people, having struggled with this problem myself. While I do not believe overweight is a disease or an epidemic, neither do I believe it is generally healthy. Obviously, dieting and surgery for weight problems is a major industry in our culture and one that seems to be growing not diminishing. One of our requirements as people is to remain as healthy as possible, not just for ourselves but for those who love us as well. When we are healthy, we are more productive and more giving. We serve society at a higher level, when our health allows us freedom to reach out.
I could go on and on with this thinking, but let's return to the current issue of people in San Diego seem generally smaller and yes healthier than people in Texas. Conjecture without basis in fact can be and usually is pointless and serves no purpose other than to give some weak creedence to the person offering the guesswork. Knowing this, however, I think I will proceed.
I believe after watching the people in San Diego, that there are three reasons for the general health in this area. 1) a diet consisting of fish, 2) smaller portions and 3) lots of walking. In the town where I work, these 3 events are rare. Portions are very extensive, fish (other than catfish) is rare, and walking is a lost art. So with this in mind, I am going to commit myself to more fish, smaller portions, and more walking. Of course this is nothing earth-shattering, and in fact this entire entry is rather dull, but I felt like writing it anyway! Time to go for a walk.
It occurred to me though that as I walked through the city and later along the bay, I did not see any overweight people. Of course it is certainly possible that those who are overweight chose not to be out in this area or chose to eat at different restaurants. But perhaps there is another reason for this. Before I go on, I must say that I am not critical of overweight people, having struggled with this problem myself. While I do not believe overweight is a disease or an epidemic, neither do I believe it is generally healthy. Obviously, dieting and surgery for weight problems is a major industry in our culture and one that seems to be growing not diminishing. One of our requirements as people is to remain as healthy as possible, not just for ourselves but for those who love us as well. When we are healthy, we are more productive and more giving. We serve society at a higher level, when our health allows us freedom to reach out.
I could go on and on with this thinking, but let's return to the current issue of people in San Diego seem generally smaller and yes healthier than people in Texas. Conjecture without basis in fact can be and usually is pointless and serves no purpose other than to give some weak creedence to the person offering the guesswork. Knowing this, however, I think I will proceed.
I believe after watching the people in San Diego, that there are three reasons for the general health in this area. 1) a diet consisting of fish, 2) smaller portions and 3) lots of walking. In the town where I work, these 3 events are rare. Portions are very extensive, fish (other than catfish) is rare, and walking is a lost art. So with this in mind, I am going to commit myself to more fish, smaller portions, and more walking. Of course this is nothing earth-shattering, and in fact this entire entry is rather dull, but I felt like writing it anyway! Time to go for a walk.
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