2/9/08

Disparate Thoughts


Reading:

I spent an afternoon at the Algebra Teahouse on Friday. I had forgotten about its unhurried feel, the fava beans on the menu and the quality of the coffee. I sat by the wood-burning stove and read Small is Beautiful . . .

Our scientists incessantly tell us with the utmost assurance that everything around us has evolved by small mutations sieved out through natural selection. . . Every complexity, we are told, is the result of evolution. Yet our development planners seem to think they can do better than the Almighty, that they can create the most complex things at one throw by a process called planning . . .

An unemployed man is a desperate man and he is practically forced into migration. This is another justification for the assertion that the provision of work opportunities is the primary need and should be the primary objective of economic planning. Without it, the drift of people into the large cities (Here Schumacher is talking about the shift from rural to urban in developing countries. In Cleveland it would be the drift of people to the suburbs or the Sunbelt) cannot be mitigated, let alone halted.

The amount of real leisure a society enjoys tends to be in inverse proportion to the amount of labour-saving machinery it employs.

The prestige carried by people in modern industrial societies varies in inverse proportion to their closeness to production.

Other Quotes:

Voltaire: “Anything too stupid to be said is sung”

Lustfelt: “Anything too stupid to be said is twittered”


Strategic Essentialism & MTB:

I attended the Meet the Bloggers conversation with Ward 13 Councilman & 10th District Congressional Candidate, Joe Cimperman. I’d like to take a moment to apply the over-used, yet useful theory of Strategic Essentialism to the situation.


In the conversations that occurred both during MTB and after the microphone was turned off, many of the bloggers focused on the one or two topics on which they disagreed with Cimperman. I felt that most neglected to appreciate commonalities. Not seeing the forest for the trees, they failed to recognize the value of an ally that is not “of the system”, but knows how to operate “within the system”.


Moving On:

I am moving soon (only about a mile away) and am feeling the tension between my desire to be light, free and portable and my wish to be connected to my past. My paternal grandmother, Mentoria recently passed away and my maternal grandmother, Jeanne recently had a stroke that has left her non-verbal. I regret not asking them more question about their lives.

My family history stems from both the African-American, rural, deep-south and white Appalachia. I have experienced neither place beyond short visits.

I am resisting the urge to scour basements and attics for creased photos and diaries. What would I really do with those artifacts?

I remind myself that possessions are impermanent. Trying to trust that I have the useful and necessary past stored away in heart and mind and that more is not always better.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

I see four blog entries here,

each, loaded, interesting, and inherently more comment-able than their aggregate.

Yippee Skippy said...

Two things leapt to mind:

1. I had a riff a while back (an abandoned essay?) about this issue of natural selection, how the whole theory is turned on its head when the "selected" can manipulate the factors on which their success will depend. Shumacher likely articulated this much better than I, but since the essay was abandoned, who the hell knows?

2. Indeed, possessions are impermanent. On the other hand, our modern lives are filled with distractions and noise, and a reminder of history, family, legacy, while 'of this world' and therefore doomed to rot away at some point, is not such a bad thing.

Keep readin' and writin', cowgirl.

BBC said...

Thank you for attending the MTB interview and using your time to considering our civic environment. We need civic engagement and thoughtful discourse. My guess would be that you are (much) younger than me. It gives me hope.

Anonymous said...

"Trying to trust that I have the useful and necessary past stored away in heart and mind and that more is not always better."

We forget as we grow older. Items can remind us. If you store those memories, be sure to tell your children or someday they will repeat your refrain of regret. So many stories now my aunt cannot recall, documents found at my deceased brother's home that reveal secrets about our lives -- family histories that made us who we are.

"When my father died it was like a whole library burned down..." - Laurie Anderson

Anonymous said...

I recently came up against this issue of the past and trying to save pieces of it when visiting my parents. I noticed that some pictures were missing from the wall...twin panaromic photos of my Dad's army unit in dress and fatiques from World War II. When I asked about it Mum told me that she arrived home one day to find them gone and that Dad had destroyed both photos and the mats and frames and had refused to talk about it. I looked at my Dad, bewildered, and he simply said, "There's no reason for me to keep those." He said it in such a way that brooked no questions.

It made me really sad. I wondered why he chose to destroy them rather than give them to me, my sister or my brother. But they are not our experiences to have. They belong to him and he has the right to do whatever he wishes with them.

Since then my brother, Dad's only son and the sole keeper of the remainder of Dad's war belongings and photos (there are not many other types of memorabilia of Dad as a youth and young man), has dropped off the face of the earth. With him went the only other records of that period of my Dad's life. I cried as much for that loss as for the loss of my brother.

There is a certain amount of guilt I have at worrying over such inconsequential things when Dad is still vitally present in my life. But I cannot help but mourn for the time, yet ahead of me, when he will not be and I will have nothing other than what I carry in myself. I worry that it won't be enough.

Anonymous said...

Joan,
Today Martha said, "this blue coat matched my Dad's blue eyes". Clear as a bell and right before me, I could see my own Dad's blue eyes. I hadn't thought of them in a while. He died 20 years ago.

Some things fade; other remain.