Western life relies--absolutely relies--on a linear worldview. There needs to be a beginning, a middle, and an end to pretty much everything. Birth, life, death. Sunrise, day, night. Get up, go to work, come home. Get sick, be sick, get well. We order our lives on a National Geo time-line that we fold out, metaphorically, when we need to make tick marks to record events. We usually organize those events and the spaces between them by their proximity to each other along the time-line. That is, we usually think about stuff according to, "When did it happen?" and "When is it going to happen?"
Take a look at your calendar. It's a line. Oh, at first glance it may look like a block with days and weeks arranged into units--days from left to right, weeks from top to bottom. Really, though, that's just convenience so we don't have to keep up a line of days stretching left to right for 365 units. If each day takes up an inch on the line, that's a line over 30 feet long per year. Pack that in your Day Planner. So, we break up that line into units that we can stack like blocks. But it's still a line.
Many folks around the world, on the other hand, operate within some sort of non-linear worldview. They are manifested in various ways but share the aspect that life's events and processes are not perceived--or grouped--strictly according to temporal proximity. Rather, they tend to be perceived--and grouped--according to similarities that are not strictly time-based. What happened? Who was involved? Where did it happen? Frequently, such worldviews are described as circular. (I prefer to see them as spherical, but only because a sphere could contain more pieces than a circle; it's a 3-D thing.) The point of that word picture is that events are categorized in groups like pie pieces, more or less regardless of their linear temporal proximity. That's not to say that there is no sense of temporal progression among people who operate within a circular (spherical) worldview. It's just that temporal progression is not the organizing principle of their lives.
So, the reason I began this post is that I have been thinking about how people with circular worldviews deal with long-term or chronic illness. As I noted earlier, in a linear perspective, we get sick, we are sick, then we get well. At least that's how it's supposed to work, right? Assuming there are appropriate and effective treatments, of course. Consequently, chronic illness is a conundrum in a linear worldview. How do we handle an illness that has a beginning, a middle, and no end? We can make a tick mark on the National Geo fold-out time-line for the first sign of symptoms or the first diagnosis, we can tick off days during which the illness is present and, hopefully, being treated, but we cannot make a mark for the day of wellness. The end of the calendar comes along, still no tick mark. That calendar is replaced by another calendar, whose end also comes along, still no tick mark. And so on. And so on. Doctors get frustrated. Patients get frustrated. Family and friends get frustrated. What the heck to do when we can't find that last tick mark?
Because I study culture and cultural behavior, I have begun to wonder about how illness, especially chronic illness, is viewed through a circular worldview. I know that non-Westernized people often view illness as more than or different than the biological, chemical, or physiological malfunctions that they are seen as from a Western perspective. I know that human illness is frequently seen as manifesting imbalance within a human, between humans, or between humans and other members and aspects of the natural and supernatural world(s). So, like our Western, linear perspective, illness is a problem that wants resolution. The difference seems to be that, in a circular perspective, illness is not THE problem but a symptom of THE problem. It seems reasonable to think, then, that chronic illness is a symptom of a problem that is difficult to resolve--a major imbalance of some sort, perhaps--or takes a long time to resolve or can't be resolved.
In my spare time--presuming I ever have any--I hope to learn more about non-Western perspectives on illness, particularly chronic illness. As it turns out, I am now involved in the early stages of a research project involving cancer and exposure to natural radioactivity among pre-Columbian Native Americans. Perhaps that will open doors for me to better understand non-Western perspectives on illness and living with chronic illness in a linear world.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Can I Be a Post-Modern Modernist?
The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, who died--by the way--in insanity, is often seen as the father of post-modernism because of his nihilist, "God is dead" worldview. I refer the reader to http://www.thepoachedegg.net/the-poached-egg/2010/09/what-are-some-pitfalls-inherent-in-the-postmodern-outlook.html for a thoughtful discussion of Nietsche's thinking and influence on modern post-modernism. Can I use "modern" to describe post-modernism?
Anyway, in 2003, our son went off to college--a small, decidedly Christian college--where he was exposed to post-modernism in Christian thought. He, in turn, exposed us. After several years of debate on the topic, it seems to me that the upside of post-modernism in the Church is the emphasis on relationship. Recently, a friend and I discussed her epiphany that God wants a positive relationship with her, something that she seems to have missed in her 50+ years, much of which has been spent as a born-again Christian, including growing up in an evangelical congregation and denomination. It occurred to me that my upbringing, theologically the same as hers, can be described as insisting on salvation by grace through faith alone but then encouraging a works-based life that suggests that post-salvation grace is earned. Mind you, both my friend and I grew up in Calvinist-lite circumstances that emphasized the "eternal security of the believer." So, am I the only one who senses an irony in being told that I could not come to God except through His grace, could not thereafter leave His grace under any circumstances, and yet must live as though His continued grace must be earned? (I think this might be related to another doctrinal position in which "all true believers will persist," indicating that one can tell whether another proclaimed Christian is actually saved by that person's post-conversion life, a responsibility that I, for one, am not interested in assuming.) In that situation, it seems to me that theology develops a number of rules for appropriate behavior, rules that are necessary to ensure that 1) one is indeed saved and 2) others can be sure of one's salvation.
Contrast that with a post-modernist position that the important aspect of salvation is relationship, that God did what He did and does what He does so that we can have now-and-always relationship with Him, that rules for behavior are less important--potentially much less important--than living in relationship, of knowing Him better and better through time. Yes, I know that every evangelical Christian will agree with that, but I have become much less interested in recent years with statements of agreement. I'd like to see, in my own life and in the lives of Christians I know, less concern with living by the rules and more concern with living with God by grace through faith.
Somebody tell me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me that one of the things that makes the New Covenant better than the Old Covenant (read the letter to the Hebrews) is that the New Covenant as expressed in Scripture includes lots of principles but few actual rules. The beauty of this is that the New Covenant is much more immediately translatable in very different cultural settings. God is not accessed or appeased by rules; He actually wants you to know Him and has done what is necessary to make that possible. Thus, the Old Covenant requires that people who want to participate, and who are not Jewish, must convert to Judaism and follow its rules (whatever those might be, depending on what sort of Judaism that one joins). Those rules are the result, in the Old Covenant, of God creating a new and unique culture as recorded in the history books of Scripture. Culture, as the manifestation of worldview, necessarily involves ritualized behavior (rules). Thus, if one wants to participate in the Old Covenant, one must participate in those rules.
This is in distinct contrast to the New Covenant, which, pretty much from day one, produced missionaries who took the gospel (good news) of that covenant to people who did not have to become Jews (or anyone else) to participate in the covenant. They just had to want a relationship with God, understand that they could not earn that relationship, and accept what God did through Christ to make it possible. Yes, I know that missionization has, and still is in many settings, been unfortunately linked to attempts to teach and enforce rules for "appropriate" Christian living, but I assert that doing so has been the downfall of missionizing efforts through time. I refer the reader to a book entitled One Tribe, Many Tongues for an interesting take on this situation by an evangelical Native American (the book's original title was better, I think: 500 Years of Bad Haircuts). Mission efforts would be much more successful in terms of seeing people come to relationship with God through Christ, I suspect, if missionaries worried more about showing relationship and less about teaching rules. Or, as a pastor friend of ours used to say, the Church professes to want to bring people into the image of Christ, but then works to make them into the image of us.
I, like many Christians, am concerned about the apparent eschewing (I still love that word) of absolutism in post-modernism and its impact on the historical grounding of Christianity in absolute truth. Thus, I maintain my hold on modernism (although I have to wonder what the Church did about absolute truth before the Enlightenment--I'll have to look into Church history, I guess). Making our own truth(s) is potentially very dangerous for anyone, all the more so for Christians, and particularly so for young or potential Christians. Still, it seems likely to me that the Holy Spirit can be trusted to use the Scriptures of the New Covenant to bring and strengthen righteousness--as defined by God, not by people--in any cultural setting if people in that setting are brought to relationship with God.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The Nester's Cabin
The Nesters’ Cabin
© Jeff Boyer, 2007
Billy’s breath, from his nose and mouth,
hangs like stove smoke in the air.
In his sheepskin coat, he looks like his horse,
both wearin’ their winter hair.
Heads tucked down, shoulders bowed to their chests,
they trudge on through the cold,
gatherin’ the last of the scattered heifers
before those clouds blow in the snow.
Roundin’ a bend in a wide, grassy draw,
Billy sees somethin’ he ain’t seen before –
an old half-dugout with a saggin’ dirt roof
and a make-shift, leather-hinged door.
No smoke from the stove pipe – nobody’s home.
No stock, no chickens in the yard.
‘Nesters,’ thought Billy, ‘they tried and moved on.
This country’s just too hard.
It’s acres per cow, not cows per acre,
no life for folks who break ground.
Long winters, too cold, short summers, too hot,
and too dry all year `round.’
Still, Billy knows better than to ride up quiet.
“Ho, the house, rider comin’,” he calls.
The only response is a snort from his horse,
no noise from the homestead at all.
Billy steps down, loops the rein `round a post,
looks up at the cabin door,
sees a large, round halo made of grasses and twigs
that he hadn’t noticed before.
A strip of faded, red, flannel cloth
is tied to the top in a bow,
and dried juniper berries that had hung from the twigs
are scattered on the ground below.
“If I didn’t know better,” Billy says to his horse,
“that would look like a Christmas wreath.”
His horse snorts again, puffs up his lips,
let the air out through his teeth.
With one gloved hand, Billy reaches out,
gives a push to the wooden door,
the dried leather hinges squeak and crack as they bend,
the wood rubs across the dirt floor.
Billy peeks through the door, steps in from the light,
in the dark there’s nothin’ to see;
then his eyes make out a small broken bench and,
in the corner – is that a tree?
Swingin’ the door wide open lets in the light,
he stares to the back of the room
at an old rusted bucket filled with rocks and dirt,
holding up a short, brown piñon.
On the floor by the bucket is a small pile of glass,
all that’s left of a red Christmas ball.
“Bet it broke her heart,” thinks Billy out loud,
“when she saw the little thing fall.”
On top of the tree, tied on with a string,
is an angel of yellowed paper lace.
Leanin’ over a little as the tree top has bowed,
she still keeps watch on the place
like the angels that announced the Bethlehem Baby
whose birth was remembered here
in a half-dugout cabin no better’n that stable
back nearly two thousand years.
“Musta been tough,” Billy says to the angel,
“leavin’ their home at Christmas and all.”
That’s when he sees them, next to the tree,
pieces of paper tacked to the wall.
Dried and yellowed, they crack on the folds
as Billy opens to see what he finds –
two pages from a Bible, and on each page
a passage had been underlined.
On the first,
For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government shall be upon His shoulders. And His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.
And on the second,
Fear not, for behold, I bring you glad tidings of great joy which shall be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.
Friday, August 27, 2010
You might be a Taoseno if . . . (an on-going saga)
The Police Blotter in your local paper includes the following entries (these ARE real):
"Caller reported that his brother was 'messing with his head.' " (You go ahead and run with this one.)
"Caller reported that someone dumped trash in the Dumpster and 'made a mess.' " (Umm . . . it's in a dumpster.)
"Caller reported that a 'bald-looking guy' had been in the park 'for a while.' " (Was he bald or just bald-looking? Is that some form of profiling?)
"Caller reported that there was noise that was not coming from her house." (I have never heard noises that weren't coming from my house . . .)
"Caller reported that a young man called her and asked if she wanted to take a sex survey." (I'm guessing a middle-schooler.)
"Caller reported she wanted the number for a suicide hotline after her landlady threatened to kill her." (I think the hotline for that situation is 911.)
"Caller reported that his brother was 'messing with his head.' " (You go ahead and run with this one.)
"Caller reported that someone dumped trash in the Dumpster and 'made a mess.' " (Umm . . . it's in a dumpster.)
"Caller reported that a 'bald-looking guy' had been in the park 'for a while.' " (Was he bald or just bald-looking? Is that some form of profiling?)
"Caller reported that there was noise that was not coming from her house." (I have never heard noises that weren't coming from my house . . .)
"Caller reported that a young man called her and asked if she wanted to take a sex survey." (I'm guessing a middle-schooler.)
"Caller reported she wanted the number for a suicide hotline after her landlady threatened to kill her." (I think the hotline for that situation is 911.)
Saturday, August 14, 2010
What Dr. Laura Can Say and Can't Say
Most of us have now seen and heard, multiple times, Dr. Laura Schlesinger getting into an argument, during her radio show, about whether it's appropriate to use the "n . . ." word and why. We all now know, if we weren't counting the first time we heard or saw it, that she used the "n . . ." word eleven (or was it fifteen?) times in a very short period of time. We all know that she's been publicly chastised by all sorts of people simply for speaking the word. We all know now, if we didn't before, that there are many people within the African-American "community", in its largest sense, that are working to abolish the word in any and every context. Interestingly, though, only a few folks have actually tried to address the issue she raised: why is it okay for some folks to use that word but not for others? Comedian and actor Chris Rock probably said it most succinctly -- he can use it, she cannot. Dr. Laura's question is left begging.
There are probably many reasons why Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word and Dr. Laura (indeed, virtually everyone not of African-American background) cannot. Some are historical, some are sociological, some are economic, and some are anthropological. One anthropological reason, which is also historical in nature, has to do with the formation, evolution, and maintenance of African-American culture. This is not the venue for details so let me simply say that because of 17th-, 18th-, and 19th-century slavery in North America, people from numerous tribal groups in west Africa were removed from their native cultural milieus and forced into situations in which they were assumed to be just like each other simply because they came from Africa and had darker skins than their new owners. Those circumstances resulted in a variety of responses and expressions of those responses as African people and their progeny adapted to interactions with their owners and other non-African people (including, by the way, Native Americans) and with Africans from other cultural backgrounds. Over time, those responses and their expressions created a new, unique, cultural milieu with its own language and dialects, social structure and organization(s), stories, beliefs, and behaviors. Within the broadest range of those manifestations was the formation of African-American culture.
Culture is remarkably dynamic; the only thing that doesn't change is change. Please don't assume that I'm saying that there developed a single, monolithic, cultural group of African-Americans, or that such a thing exists today. Not so. Nonetheless, the effects of slavery on generations of Africans and their progeny, as well as on people of African descent even if their families were not slaves, can hardly be overestimated or overstated, even in circumstances in which people had very different experiences. One of those effects was the formation of culture. How do we know? Because Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word and Dr. Laura cannot.
I think that Dr. Laura was voicing the feelings of many Americans of non-African descent: "Oh, come on, that was then, this is now. I'm not a slave-trader or owner, I'm not responsible for the actions of slave-traders or owners. If we're ever going to move beyond the tragedy of slavery and post-slavery, Jim Crow discrimination, we have to stop the discriminatory use of certain words. If Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word, so can Dr. Laura. If Dr. Laura can't use it, then neither can Chris Rock."
Well . . . not so much. Anthropologist Roy Rappaport identified what he called canonical and indexical aspects of culture. The former are those aspects which are deeply embedded, which reflect cultural foundations, the beliefs, values, and behaviors upon which culture stands. Canonical aspects are very, very difficult to change because doing so potentially threatens the foundations of culture. Indexical aspects of culture, on the other hand, are, as the name implies, indexed to circumstances, sometimes specific and sometimes general. That is, they can shift and change in response to shifting, changing circumstances. Rappaport presented these aspects as a dichotomy but recognized that, in fact, they represent a continuum. Over time, even cultural aspects that have been remarkably canonical can and will change if they become increasingly less relevant to succeeding generations. That's part of the dynamism of culture.
The point? Culture involves identity. One could say, indeed, that culture is identity. So, people of African descent, during the processes of forming, evolving, and maintaining a culture in North American that provided identities for themselves in non-native circumstances, acquired and created values and expressions that manifested identity. One of those, I suspect, was the "n . . ." word, an apparently common term used by traders, owners, and other non-Africans to identify Africans and their progeny. "Black" and "white" are colors and have different meanings in different contexts (witness the confusion today over whether and how to use them with reference to people). "African" was a term that could not accurately be applied to the next generation (although I have consistently used it in conjunction with "American" in this setting). But "n . . ." is a term specifically used, in North America, to refer to people who were and are "obviously" (not so obvious, as it turns out, but that's another subject) of African descent. When used by non-Africans, then and now, it was and remains a derogatory term intended to demean and diminish Africans and their progeny, to reduce them to a less-than-human status in order to justify subjugating them. When used by Africans and their progeny, on the other hand, it apparently was and continues to be a term of identity. Even with what seem to be obviously derogatory connotations (because of historical circumstances), the word expresses identity.
Why would slaves and their progeny use a word picked up from traders, owners, and others to express their identity? Because it was not specific to a particular culture back in Africa so it did not give preference to any one African culture over others. Because it accurately reflected the new, overarching, circumstances in which people originally of diverse cultural backgrounds were being forced to create a new culture, in--and this is an important point--a language that all were being forced to learn and use. Language is always cultural expression; otherwise it's just noises.
The fact that a word that slaves learned in centuries past has been passed down to generations and generations of their progeny, and to people "of color" who are not the progeny of slaves, reveals to us that the word expresses identity and that the identity so expressed is a canonical aspect of African-American culture. Activists like Al Sharpton can try hard to erase it from African-American vocabulary, but they will not succeed until it becomes irrelevant to new generations, and making identity irrelevant is exceedingly difficult. That is, Reverend Al, your task involves finding a way to maintain African-American identity while divorcing that identity from its historical foundation and expression.
That's why Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word and Dr. Laura cannot. What Dr. Laura finds difficult to understand is that the "n . . ." word is not canonical to non-African-American identity. Those of us who are not of African descent know that the word had and still has derogatory, demeaning connotations and that use of the word is not acceptable in settings in which people are understood to be people regardless of skin color, genetic descent, language, and so forth. It is not canonical for our identities. Apparently, it is for Chris Rock's. To suggest that it should not be is to suggest that non-African-Americans can decide what are acceptable forms of identity expression. African-Americans have been through that scenario already, as have many other groups of people within what became the United States. What is confusing to Dr. Laura is actually a cultural reaction to cultural domination.
The actual question to be asked is whether it is possible to form, evolve, and maintain a United States culture. Keeping in mind that Native Americans were not allowed to be United States citizens until 1924 (despite the 14th Amendment to the Constitution, approved in 1868, which had to be enforced by the Indian Civil Rights Act, signed 100 years later in 1968), could not vote until the 1950s (despite the 15th Amendment, approved in 1870, a right that had to be enforced by the Indian Civil Rights Act), that African-Americans' voting rights, ideally secured by the 15th Amendment (1870), had to be enforced by the Voting Rights Act, signed in 1965 (95 years later), and that Japanese-Americans were forced to live in concentration camps during World War II (suspending the right to habeas corpus, secured to citizens in Article 1 of the Constitution, something that President Lincoln also did during the Civil War), it seems unlikely that we are very close to being the racial-ethnic-linguistic melting pot that many of us think we are supposed to be. I have no idea how to accomplish that, and am not sure that we should try, but until it happens, Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word and Dr. Laura cannot.
There are probably many reasons why Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word and Dr. Laura (indeed, virtually everyone not of African-American background) cannot. Some are historical, some are sociological, some are economic, and some are anthropological. One anthropological reason, which is also historical in nature, has to do with the formation, evolution, and maintenance of African-American culture. This is not the venue for details so let me simply say that because of 17th-, 18th-, and 19th-century slavery in North America, people from numerous tribal groups in west Africa were removed from their native cultural milieus and forced into situations in which they were assumed to be just like each other simply because they came from Africa and had darker skins than their new owners. Those circumstances resulted in a variety of responses and expressions of those responses as African people and their progeny adapted to interactions with their owners and other non-African people (including, by the way, Native Americans) and with Africans from other cultural backgrounds. Over time, those responses and their expressions created a new, unique, cultural milieu with its own language and dialects, social structure and organization(s), stories, beliefs, and behaviors. Within the broadest range of those manifestations was the formation of African-American culture.
Culture is remarkably dynamic; the only thing that doesn't change is change. Please don't assume that I'm saying that there developed a single, monolithic, cultural group of African-Americans, or that such a thing exists today. Not so. Nonetheless, the effects of slavery on generations of Africans and their progeny, as well as on people of African descent even if their families were not slaves, can hardly be overestimated or overstated, even in circumstances in which people had very different experiences. One of those effects was the formation of culture. How do we know? Because Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word and Dr. Laura cannot.
I think that Dr. Laura was voicing the feelings of many Americans of non-African descent: "Oh, come on, that was then, this is now. I'm not a slave-trader or owner, I'm not responsible for the actions of slave-traders or owners. If we're ever going to move beyond the tragedy of slavery and post-slavery, Jim Crow discrimination, we have to stop the discriminatory use of certain words. If Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word, so can Dr. Laura. If Dr. Laura can't use it, then neither can Chris Rock."
Well . . . not so much. Anthropologist Roy Rappaport identified what he called canonical and indexical aspects of culture. The former are those aspects which are deeply embedded, which reflect cultural foundations, the beliefs, values, and behaviors upon which culture stands. Canonical aspects are very, very difficult to change because doing so potentially threatens the foundations of culture. Indexical aspects of culture, on the other hand, are, as the name implies, indexed to circumstances, sometimes specific and sometimes general. That is, they can shift and change in response to shifting, changing circumstances. Rappaport presented these aspects as a dichotomy but recognized that, in fact, they represent a continuum. Over time, even cultural aspects that have been remarkably canonical can and will change if they become increasingly less relevant to succeeding generations. That's part of the dynamism of culture.
The point? Culture involves identity. One could say, indeed, that culture is identity. So, people of African descent, during the processes of forming, evolving, and maintaining a culture in North American that provided identities for themselves in non-native circumstances, acquired and created values and expressions that manifested identity. One of those, I suspect, was the "n . . ." word, an apparently common term used by traders, owners, and other non-Africans to identify Africans and their progeny. "Black" and "white" are colors and have different meanings in different contexts (witness the confusion today over whether and how to use them with reference to people). "African" was a term that could not accurately be applied to the next generation (although I have consistently used it in conjunction with "American" in this setting). But "n . . ." is a term specifically used, in North America, to refer to people who were and are "obviously" (not so obvious, as it turns out, but that's another subject) of African descent. When used by non-Africans, then and now, it was and remains a derogatory term intended to demean and diminish Africans and their progeny, to reduce them to a less-than-human status in order to justify subjugating them. When used by Africans and their progeny, on the other hand, it apparently was and continues to be a term of identity. Even with what seem to be obviously derogatory connotations (because of historical circumstances), the word expresses identity.
Why would slaves and their progeny use a word picked up from traders, owners, and others to express their identity? Because it was not specific to a particular culture back in Africa so it did not give preference to any one African culture over others. Because it accurately reflected the new, overarching, circumstances in which people originally of diverse cultural backgrounds were being forced to create a new culture, in--and this is an important point--a language that all were being forced to learn and use. Language is always cultural expression; otherwise it's just noises.
The fact that a word that slaves learned in centuries past has been passed down to generations and generations of their progeny, and to people "of color" who are not the progeny of slaves, reveals to us that the word expresses identity and that the identity so expressed is a canonical aspect of African-American culture. Activists like Al Sharpton can try hard to erase it from African-American vocabulary, but they will not succeed until it becomes irrelevant to new generations, and making identity irrelevant is exceedingly difficult. That is, Reverend Al, your task involves finding a way to maintain African-American identity while divorcing that identity from its historical foundation and expression.
That's why Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word and Dr. Laura cannot. What Dr. Laura finds difficult to understand is that the "n . . ." word is not canonical to non-African-American identity. Those of us who are not of African descent know that the word had and still has derogatory, demeaning connotations and that use of the word is not acceptable in settings in which people are understood to be people regardless of skin color, genetic descent, language, and so forth. It is not canonical for our identities. Apparently, it is for Chris Rock's. To suggest that it should not be is to suggest that non-African-Americans can decide what are acceptable forms of identity expression. African-Americans have been through that scenario already, as have many other groups of people within what became the United States. What is confusing to Dr. Laura is actually a cultural reaction to cultural domination.
The actual question to be asked is whether it is possible to form, evolve, and maintain a United States culture. Keeping in mind that Native Americans were not allowed to be United States citizens until 1924 (despite the 14th Amendment to the Constitution, approved in 1868, which had to be enforced by the Indian Civil Rights Act, signed 100 years later in 1968), could not vote until the 1950s (despite the 15th Amendment, approved in 1870, a right that had to be enforced by the Indian Civil Rights Act), that African-Americans' voting rights, ideally secured by the 15th Amendment (1870), had to be enforced by the Voting Rights Act, signed in 1965 (95 years later), and that Japanese-Americans were forced to live in concentration camps during World War II (suspending the right to habeas corpus, secured to citizens in Article 1 of the Constitution, something that President Lincoln also did during the Civil War), it seems unlikely that we are very close to being the racial-ethnic-linguistic melting pot that many of us think we are supposed to be. I have no idea how to accomplish that, and am not sure that we should try, but until it happens, Chris Rock can use the "n . . ." word and Dr. Laura cannot.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Gender and Fruit Communication, Part 2
We were stuck in Rogers, Arkansas for a LONG FRIGGIN' time back in the fall. I won't go into the reasons here, and you can't make me. Anyway, that's when my cell died. As in, one day it was okay and the next day it had digital Alzheimer's -- wasn't sure who it was, where it was, or why it was. Then it wasn't. I've known people with Alzheimer's -- I know the symptoms.
I figured it was the battery, so I trotted down to a nearby Verizon store to get a new one. Turned out that replacing the battery would have been like doing a heart transplant on a dead guy. Something straight out of Grey's Anatomy, where the docs have their scrubs in a bunch about whether the transplant might give the dead guy enough juice to make it back from the netherworld in time for one profound statement. Well, not my cell. The diagnosis was terminal and the docs thought that a new battery might -- might, mind you -- give the cell enough juice to speak its final words; in this case, that would be getting my contact list and maybe a few photos transferred to a new cell. If it worked. The prognosis was not good, there was no hope for life support. It was a one-shot deal.
"Give it a try," I said, valiantly. So a cabal of salespeople and techs went to work. And, just like in Grey's Anatomy, they pulled it off. With a wheezing death rattle, my cell gave up my contact list and a few photos. Then it was gone, destined to be recycled back into the electronic earth from whence it came.
Now what to do? Being the 21st century guy that I am, I am tethered to my cell. Even if I decide not to carry it around, nobody but me knows that and I get calls and more calls. And people feel it's their right to expect me to respond immediately, or sooner, so if I have "missed" (i.e., ignored) their calls I am, apparently, obligated to return their calls as soon as possible. Or sooner. Evidently, then, I had to get a new cell.
That's where gender and fruit came into play.
First, as to fruit . . . my daughter has a blackberry. I know lots of folks with blackberries. So do you. The REALLY cool people, of course, have iPhones, but the next coolest people have blackberries. The rest of us have something else. Doesn't matter what, because it's not an iphone and it's not a blackberry. I won't go into iPhones here, because they are so cool that they are actually specialized. One must be a Mac geek and use a particular cell service provider to effectively use an iPhone. Yes, I'm typing this on my MacBook, but I'm not cool enough to use the right service provider, so that's that. (By the way, am I going to start seeing people walking around downtown Santa Fe holding their new iPads up to their ears, talking to their offices or spouses? I don't think I can handle that.)
Back to blackberries. I actually get e-mail messages from people that have little notes at the bottom that say the messages were sent from blackberries. If we had a data plan with our cells, I could do the same thing from my cell, but it wouldn't be cool because it wouldn't come from a blackberry. I could have a blueberry or a strawberry or a mango, but I wouldn't be cool, because it's not a blackberry.
My son is quick to point out that blackberry is really Blackberry, a brand name, and that what I'm wondering about actually has to do with corporate identities, brand recognition, and superior marketing strategies. Yeah, I got that. But why blackberry? Why not blueberry or strawberry or mango? Or peach. I love peaches. I'd probably buy a phone named peach. Or melons. I really love melons. I'd buy a cantaloupe phone any day. Of course, melons aren't actually fruit, so perhaps the point is moot. Still . . . Why the heck is it so cool to have a phone named after a fruit? And not really a very auspicious fruit at that. What can you do with blackberries, except make jams and pies? Oh, and call people. Wait! I can do that on my non-fruit cell. I can even do that on -- a gasp fills the room -- our land-line telephone.
I'll tell you what I can't do on my non-fruit cell, or my land-line phone: I can't drop it in my briefcase (I don't carry a purse, but I know someone who does and has the following problem with her blackberry, frequently) and have it call someone, anyone, randomly, just because it's tiny, miniscule, buttons get pushed accidentally. The recipient, then, gets to scream and holler to try to get the attention of the fruit-phone owner to let him/her know that s/he is racking up billable minutes talking to a billfold or a pair of sunglasses or a bottle of aspirin at the bottom of the purse or briefcase (or spare change in a pocket).
Anyway, when my old cell (I had a Razor, which was really cool in its day, but somehow it didn't make me cool enough) gave up the ghost, commending its spirit to the Father, the cabal of salespeople and techs at the Verizon store immediately shifted into a whole new mode. I'm pretty sure I heard the store manager whisper, "It's dead. Now go sell him a new one." No time for mourning or last rites. Time to make a sale. Sorta like having your spouse die and immediately getting a call from eHarmony.
I first noticed that the tech, who was a young male, went to the back room, presumably to tech on something else, perhaps a patient that hadn't passed yet. Next I noticed that two young women came to help me, in my grief, select a replacement. After all, I had to be re-tethered to some portable communicative device. This is where gender came into play.
On principle and for practicality's sake, NO WAY was I going to get a fruit phone. Unless they had a cantaloupe or peach, which they didn't. So that was out, although the young women who were double-teaming me certainly tried. Realizing, though, that fruit phones were out, they then played on my fragile male ego. Surely I didn't want just another plain, old-school ("old" meaning older than last summer), push-button cell. Right? If I'm going to be a 21st century guy (see paragraph 4, above), I need a smart phone. No, seriously, I NEED a smart phone. I NEED a phone that has a touch screen and apps and a pop-out keyboard for REAL texting, not that old-school, hold-it-in-one-hand-and-text-with-one-thumb technique but modern, just-like-the-teenagers-do-it, hold-it-in-two-hands-and-text-with-both-thumbs texting. I NEED a phone that not only takes photos but takes them in hi-res and has options for lighting and flash. I NEED a phone that, when (not if) I decide to get a data plan, can surf the internet and do e-mailing. And get maps, to replace my beloved Garmin. Aaaggghhh.
Briefly, we returned to the blackberry stand, where I was shown fruit phones that meet those criteria. Again, though, not wanting a fruit phone, we moved on to other options. Did I prefer a cell without the QWERTY keyboard (not a smart as those with one, apparently; sort of a mid-IQ phone)? Did I prefer one that hinged open to reveal the full-size keyboard ("full-size," in this case, meaning about 2.5 inches long), or one that slid open to reveal the keyboard (in which case the keyboard was about the same size as those on a fruit phone, maybe 1.5 inches long, max)? Would I need a charger cord for the truck (of course)? Oh, I would need a plastic cover for cell, along with clear films to cover the screen lest it get scratched and ruin my touch-screen experience.
By the time I left the store, I was reeling. I had a new smart phone with home charger, a charger for the truck, covers and films, and a receipt for the rebate I would get that would help with the cost of the cell. I managed to get out without a data plan, since Ginger's cell is way too old-school for that and it seemed presumptuous to get a plan just for my cell. I was due a new cell anyway and could have gotten a free one, but the free ones aren't smart.
I'm not sure I am, either. I like my cell, mind you, and I have discovered that, with the plastic cover on it, it almost looks -- from a distance -- like an iPhone, so sometimes I look cool using it, as long as I'm not too close to other people. But I got double-teamed by two young women; I think maybe my common sense was overshot by my ego. And I'm pretty sure that I'm not as smart as the phone. I have a nagging suspicion that it is capable of things that I don't understand. If it's true that we typically only use about 10% of our brain's capacity, and if, as I suspect, I'm only using about 10% of my cell's capacity, then I'm pretty sure that my smart phone could take over the world, or at least New Mexico, and I might not even realize it until I found myself taking orders from my cell.
Uh oh -- gotta run. My cell's ringing.
I figured it was the battery, so I trotted down to a nearby Verizon store to get a new one. Turned out that replacing the battery would have been like doing a heart transplant on a dead guy. Something straight out of Grey's Anatomy, where the docs have their scrubs in a bunch about whether the transplant might give the dead guy enough juice to make it back from the netherworld in time for one profound statement. Well, not my cell. The diagnosis was terminal and the docs thought that a new battery might -- might, mind you -- give the cell enough juice to speak its final words; in this case, that would be getting my contact list and maybe a few photos transferred to a new cell. If it worked. The prognosis was not good, there was no hope for life support. It was a one-shot deal.
"Give it a try," I said, valiantly. So a cabal of salespeople and techs went to work. And, just like in Grey's Anatomy, they pulled it off. With a wheezing death rattle, my cell gave up my contact list and a few photos. Then it was gone, destined to be recycled back into the electronic earth from whence it came.
Now what to do? Being the 21st century guy that I am, I am tethered to my cell. Even if I decide not to carry it around, nobody but me knows that and I get calls and more calls. And people feel it's their right to expect me to respond immediately, or sooner, so if I have "missed" (i.e., ignored) their calls I am, apparently, obligated to return their calls as soon as possible. Or sooner. Evidently, then, I had to get a new cell.
That's where gender and fruit came into play.
First, as to fruit . . . my daughter has a blackberry. I know lots of folks with blackberries. So do you. The REALLY cool people, of course, have iPhones, but the next coolest people have blackberries. The rest of us have something else. Doesn't matter what, because it's not an iphone and it's not a blackberry. I won't go into iPhones here, because they are so cool that they are actually specialized. One must be a Mac geek and use a particular cell service provider to effectively use an iPhone. Yes, I'm typing this on my MacBook, but I'm not cool enough to use the right service provider, so that's that. (By the way, am I going to start seeing people walking around downtown Santa Fe holding their new iPads up to their ears, talking to their offices or spouses? I don't think I can handle that.)
Back to blackberries. I actually get e-mail messages from people that have little notes at the bottom that say the messages were sent from blackberries. If we had a data plan with our cells, I could do the same thing from my cell, but it wouldn't be cool because it wouldn't come from a blackberry. I could have a blueberry or a strawberry or a mango, but I wouldn't be cool, because it's not a blackberry.
My son is quick to point out that blackberry is really Blackberry, a brand name, and that what I'm wondering about actually has to do with corporate identities, brand recognition, and superior marketing strategies. Yeah, I got that. But why blackberry? Why not blueberry or strawberry or mango? Or peach. I love peaches. I'd probably buy a phone named peach. Or melons. I really love melons. I'd buy a cantaloupe phone any day. Of course, melons aren't actually fruit, so perhaps the point is moot. Still . . . Why the heck is it so cool to have a phone named after a fruit? And not really a very auspicious fruit at that. What can you do with blackberries, except make jams and pies? Oh, and call people. Wait! I can do that on my non-fruit cell. I can even do that on -- a gasp fills the room -- our land-line telephone.
I'll tell you what I can't do on my non-fruit cell, or my land-line phone: I can't drop it in my briefcase (I don't carry a purse, but I know someone who does and has the following problem with her blackberry, frequently) and have it call someone, anyone, randomly, just because it's tiny, miniscule, buttons get pushed accidentally. The recipient, then, gets to scream and holler to try to get the attention of the fruit-phone owner to let him/her know that s/he is racking up billable minutes talking to a billfold or a pair of sunglasses or a bottle of aspirin at the bottom of the purse or briefcase (or spare change in a pocket).
Anyway, when my old cell (I had a Razor, which was really cool in its day, but somehow it didn't make me cool enough) gave up the ghost, commending its spirit to the Father, the cabal of salespeople and techs at the Verizon store immediately shifted into a whole new mode. I'm pretty sure I heard the store manager whisper, "It's dead. Now go sell him a new one." No time for mourning or last rites. Time to make a sale. Sorta like having your spouse die and immediately getting a call from eHarmony.
I first noticed that the tech, who was a young male, went to the back room, presumably to tech on something else, perhaps a patient that hadn't passed yet. Next I noticed that two young women came to help me, in my grief, select a replacement. After all, I had to be re-tethered to some portable communicative device. This is where gender came into play.
On principle and for practicality's sake, NO WAY was I going to get a fruit phone. Unless they had a cantaloupe or peach, which they didn't. So that was out, although the young women who were double-teaming me certainly tried. Realizing, though, that fruit phones were out, they then played on my fragile male ego. Surely I didn't want just another plain, old-school ("old" meaning older than last summer), push-button cell. Right? If I'm going to be a 21st century guy (see paragraph 4, above), I need a smart phone. No, seriously, I NEED a smart phone. I NEED a phone that has a touch screen and apps and a pop-out keyboard for REAL texting, not that old-school, hold-it-in-one-hand-and-text-with-one-thumb technique but modern, just-like-the-teenagers-do-it, hold-it-in-two-hands-and-text-with-both-thumbs texting. I NEED a phone that not only takes photos but takes them in hi-res and has options for lighting and flash. I NEED a phone that, when (not if) I decide to get a data plan, can surf the internet and do e-mailing. And get maps, to replace my beloved Garmin. Aaaggghhh.
Briefly, we returned to the blackberry stand, where I was shown fruit phones that meet those criteria. Again, though, not wanting a fruit phone, we moved on to other options. Did I prefer a cell without the QWERTY keyboard (not a smart as those with one, apparently; sort of a mid-IQ phone)? Did I prefer one that hinged open to reveal the full-size keyboard ("full-size," in this case, meaning about 2.5 inches long), or one that slid open to reveal the keyboard (in which case the keyboard was about the same size as those on a fruit phone, maybe 1.5 inches long, max)? Would I need a charger cord for the truck (of course)? Oh, I would need a plastic cover for cell, along with clear films to cover the screen lest it get scratched and ruin my touch-screen experience.
By the time I left the store, I was reeling. I had a new smart phone with home charger, a charger for the truck, covers and films, and a receipt for the rebate I would get that would help with the cost of the cell. I managed to get out without a data plan, since Ginger's cell is way too old-school for that and it seemed presumptuous to get a plan just for my cell. I was due a new cell anyway and could have gotten a free one, but the free ones aren't smart.
I'm not sure I am, either. I like my cell, mind you, and I have discovered that, with the plastic cover on it, it almost looks -- from a distance -- like an iPhone, so sometimes I look cool using it, as long as I'm not too close to other people. But I got double-teamed by two young women; I think maybe my common sense was overshot by my ego. And I'm pretty sure that I'm not as smart as the phone. I have a nagging suspicion that it is capable of things that I don't understand. If it's true that we typically only use about 10% of our brain's capacity, and if, as I suspect, I'm only using about 10% of my cell's capacity, then I'm pretty sure that my smart phone could take over the world, or at least New Mexico, and I might not even realize it until I found myself taking orders from my cell.
Uh oh -- gotta run. My cell's ringing.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Language is Grand!
YO! Just recently, I have been introduced to three new words in the English language! These are SO cool! Seriously, they are actually English words!
1. "Whilom," adverb or adjective, from Old English "hwilum," meaning "at times." As an adverb, whilom means in the past or formerly. As an adjective, whilom means former or erstwhile. Whilom is a great word for an archaeologist.
2. "Quidnunc," noun, from Latin "quid nunc," meaning "what now?" Quidnunc refers to a curious, inquisitive, and gossipy person. I am a certifiable quidnunc.
3. "Poppysmic," noun, from Latin "poppysma," used for "a kind of lip-smacking, clucking noise that signified satisfaction and approval, especially during lovemaking" (according to worldwidewords.org). In Old French, "popisme" "referred to the tongue-clicking tsk-tsk sound that riders use to encourage their mounts" (also according to worldwidewords.org). It reminds me of the sound women make when they even out their lipstick immediately after application.
1. "Whilom," adverb or adjective, from Old English "hwilum," meaning "at times." As an adverb, whilom means in the past or formerly. As an adjective, whilom means former or erstwhile. Whilom is a great word for an archaeologist.
2. "Quidnunc," noun, from Latin "quid nunc," meaning "what now?" Quidnunc refers to a curious, inquisitive, and gossipy person. I am a certifiable quidnunc.
3. "Poppysmic," noun, from Latin "poppysma," used for "a kind of lip-smacking, clucking noise that signified satisfaction and approval, especially during lovemaking" (according to worldwidewords.org). In Old French, "popisme" "referred to the tongue-clicking tsk-tsk sound that riders use to encourage their mounts" (also according to worldwidewords.org). It reminds me of the sound women make when they even out their lipstick immediately after application.
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