I was interested to see how busy the polling place was; last time it had been pretty quiet, but there was quite a line. Some people in line remarked the same thing. And when I left, the line was even longer than when I had arrived.
One of the nice things about voting is that the mere fact of doing it is to some extent an act of good will towards, and solidarity with, one's fellow citizens, a recognition of equality in and of itself. It's easy, in all of the party politics, to forget that the good that fundamentally matters is the good common to everyone, the good we all have by virtue of being citizens. One can deplore all one wants the follies of one's fellow voters -- but absolutely one thing that should never be done is to look down one's nose at the fact of their voting.
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
Which Linnet Is the Luckier Bird
A Linnet In A Gilded Cage
by Christina Georgina Rossetti
A linnet in a gilded cage,--
A linnet on a bough,--
In frosty winter one might doubt
Which bird is luckier now.
But let the trees burst out in leaf,
And nests be on the bough,
Which linnet is the luckier bird,
Oh who could doubt it now?
Monday, November 05, 2012
Snake-Handling Day Eve
People tend to look at snake-handling as an irrational activity; which I've always found interesting, since most people do it every election. Like snake-handlers they believe that the pure of heart can handle snakes without being harmed; like snake-handlers, being bitten doesn't prevent them from going back. It is, of course, Election Day tomorrow in the U.S., so Americans gear up for the triumphant climax of our current snake-handling experience, in which we finally manage to vote for snakes who will not bite us, and carry scorpions across the stream without being stung.
There are excellent arguments for voting, of course, but it is worth remembering that in total consequences it is probably one of the most dangerous activities you engage in all year. It can make a considerable difference which imperialistic warmonger you vote for; for instance, we might get involved in two or three wars next term instead of only one, and the rate at which American citizens are put on an assassination list on nothing more than the decision of the President might accelerate or decelerate. And, of extraordinary and crucial importance, it may make a considerable difference as to what purely symbolic gestures we offer up to economic gods. Yes, I am increasingly cynical when it comes to people telling me that their preferred candidate is worth voting for.
Current betting on the outcome seems to be leaning toward Obama. I find myself somewhat skeptical; I think an incumbent who has been struggling as much as Obama has is not likely to sway independent voters. Conceivably this could be neutralized if the Democrats manage to get enough voters to the polls -- which is as much about logistics as about enthusiasm -- and people do seem to be saying that the Democrats are doing better than usual at such organizing this year, particularly in states like Ohio. But because Democrats have to negotiate very diverse demographics, the electoral equivalent of cat herding, Presidential elections in the U.S. are typically decided by two and only two things: how intensely interested in voting solidly Republican voters are, and which way independent voters swing. My suspicion is that Romney will reach 270 electoral college votes; an incumbent without incumbent advantage is a duck in the hunter's sights.
Of course, a real answer to the question would require greater understanding of the causes of voting behavior than I have.
There are excellent arguments for voting, of course, but it is worth remembering that in total consequences it is probably one of the most dangerous activities you engage in all year. It can make a considerable difference which imperialistic warmonger you vote for; for instance, we might get involved in two or three wars next term instead of only one, and the rate at which American citizens are put on an assassination list on nothing more than the decision of the President might accelerate or decelerate. And, of extraordinary and crucial importance, it may make a considerable difference as to what purely symbolic gestures we offer up to economic gods. Yes, I am increasingly cynical when it comes to people telling me that their preferred candidate is worth voting for.
Current betting on the outcome seems to be leaning toward Obama. I find myself somewhat skeptical; I think an incumbent who has been struggling as much as Obama has is not likely to sway independent voters. Conceivably this could be neutralized if the Democrats manage to get enough voters to the polls -- which is as much about logistics as about enthusiasm -- and people do seem to be saying that the Democrats are doing better than usual at such organizing this year, particularly in states like Ohio. But because Democrats have to negotiate very diverse demographics, the electoral equivalent of cat herding, Presidential elections in the U.S. are typically decided by two and only two things: how intensely interested in voting solidly Republican voters are, and which way independent voters swing. My suspicion is that Romney will reach 270 electoral college votes; an incumbent without incumbent advantage is a duck in the hunter's sights.
Of course, a real answer to the question would require greater understanding of the causes of voting behavior than I have.
Guy Fawkes Day
It turns out that many of my students know what Guy Fawkes Day is, which is heartening. They know it, of course, because of the movie V for Vendetta.
The following, if Wikipedia is to be believed, is the earliest recorded Guy Fawkes Day rhyme.
Don't you Remember,
The Fifth of November,
'Twas Gunpowder Treason Day,
I let off my gun,
And made'em all run.
And Stole all their Bonfire away.
British ambivalence about Guy Fawkes is always interesting: in the nineteenth century they burned him in effigy and eagerly read stories in which he was a hero, albeit a flawed one. William Harrison Ainsworth's Guy Fawkes is actually quite good; it takes his actions as wrong but nonetheless regards Fawkes very sympathetically.
The following, if Wikipedia is to be believed, is the earliest recorded Guy Fawkes Day rhyme.
Don't you Remember,
The Fifth of November,
'Twas Gunpowder Treason Day,
I let off my gun,
And made'em all run.
And Stole all their Bonfire away.
British ambivalence about Guy Fawkes is always interesting: in the nineteenth century they burned him in effigy and eagerly read stories in which he was a hero, albeit a flawed one. William Harrison Ainsworth's Guy Fawkes is actually quite good; it takes his actions as wrong but nonetheless regards Fawkes very sympathetically.
Sunday, November 04, 2012
Tanaver I
So the following chapters have been done at Tanaver.
Part I
Chapter I: A Day in the Life
Part I, Part II
Chapter II: This Darkest Sea
Part I, Part II
I think I'll keep trying for about one half-chapter a day, which shouldn't interfere with other things I need to do. The current wordcount is around 7650.
As a sort of 'special feature', I thought I'd give my current draft of the poem from the Sylevid mentioned in Chapter II, the Amenetaar.
The Apple-Daughters
The new light is breaking on my thought,
sunrise-like upon a living sky;
the words of song are forming swiftly
to speak of kith and kin with bright voice.
Shall poet speak,
shall song be sung without the sun's flame?
In darkness light, in winter soft warmth
the singer will make with stories old.
Though ice grow thick, joy will leap in hearts.
Sing now the song,
let words be tuned to tell the old tale,
the tale of Sylve, and Linne's tale,
the holiday-tale our fathers told!
Sing with me in bright voice of old days.
Let the seed grow;
let apple bloom with sweetness and song!
From forth a seed there grew a great tree;
its boughs were heavy with ripe apples.
The apples were sweet, their scent was joy.
From seed came fruit,
the blooms grew full, each fruit a great world,
rich with every soul's habitation.
One fruit was finest, full of sweet life.
Three pips it hid; its daughters were three,
bright-eyed maidens.
Minne was first, swiftest with her hands,
keen with her sight and sharp with her mind,
stout in her heart, a soul to endure.
She looked at the world with learning eyes,
clear-eyed maiden.
Linne there also, swiftest on her feet,
danced to rhythm that pulsed in the tree,
sang with a music like wind in the leaves,
wove well a song of beauty and truth,
clear-voiced maiden.
But Sylve was sweetest, pure and kind,
quiet in grace; she sought out the right,
lived by the pulse of beauty and truth,
spoke with a wisdom beyond her years,
true-voiced maiden.
On an island Minne built her hourse,
first a small one, then it grew greater,
built with graceful stones and good silver,
every part lovely and full of use,
a place to rest.
But restless were Linne and Sylve:
there was wandering in their spirits,
and they adventured for their fortunes,
first in small journeys, then in long ones.
Without a rest
they roamed on sea, on land, through forests,
beneath strange skies and on strange stones
to find a homeland and a people,
to star-lands bright of which singers sing
and poets speak.
Part I
Chapter I: A Day in the Life
Part I, Part II
Chapter II: This Darkest Sea
Part I, Part II
I think I'll keep trying for about one half-chapter a day, which shouldn't interfere with other things I need to do. The current wordcount is around 7650.
As a sort of 'special feature', I thought I'd give my current draft of the poem from the Sylevid mentioned in Chapter II, the Amenetaar.
The Apple-Daughters
The new light is breaking on my thought,
sunrise-like upon a living sky;
the words of song are forming swiftly
to speak of kith and kin with bright voice.
Shall poet speak,
shall song be sung without the sun's flame?
In darkness light, in winter soft warmth
the singer will make with stories old.
Though ice grow thick, joy will leap in hearts.
Sing now the song,
let words be tuned to tell the old tale,
the tale of Sylve, and Linne's tale,
the holiday-tale our fathers told!
Sing with me in bright voice of old days.
Let the seed grow;
let apple bloom with sweetness and song!
From forth a seed there grew a great tree;
its boughs were heavy with ripe apples.
The apples were sweet, their scent was joy.
From seed came fruit,
the blooms grew full, each fruit a great world,
rich with every soul's habitation.
One fruit was finest, full of sweet life.
Three pips it hid; its daughters were three,
bright-eyed maidens.
Minne was first, swiftest with her hands,
keen with her sight and sharp with her mind,
stout in her heart, a soul to endure.
She looked at the world with learning eyes,
clear-eyed maiden.
Linne there also, swiftest on her feet,
danced to rhythm that pulsed in the tree,
sang with a music like wind in the leaves,
wove well a song of beauty and truth,
clear-voiced maiden.
But Sylve was sweetest, pure and kind,
quiet in grace; she sought out the right,
lived by the pulse of beauty and truth,
spoke with a wisdom beyond her years,
true-voiced maiden.
On an island Minne built her hourse,
first a small one, then it grew greater,
built with graceful stones and good silver,
every part lovely and full of use,
a place to rest.
But restless were Linne and Sylve:
there was wandering in their spirits,
and they adventured for their fortunes,
first in small journeys, then in long ones.
Without a rest
they roamed on sea, on land, through forests,
beneath strange skies and on strange stones
to find a homeland and a people,
to star-lands bright of which singers sing
and poets speak.
Pope Tawadros II
The Coptic Orthodox Church has recently named its new patriarch, Pope Tawadros II, to replace Pope Shenouda III, who died in March. He will officially be recognized on November 18. The Coptic Patriarchs are, interestingly enough, chosen by lottery from a slate of candidates. Pope Tawadros has some big shoes to fill and comes to serve as the Patriarch of the See of Mark at an especially difficult juncture. The Coptic Orthodox Church is the largest Christian body in Egypt; about 10% of the Egyptian population is Coptic Orthodox.
Educating Children
Michael Pakaluk notes an interesting passage in Aquinas's Commentary on the Sentences:
This puts a somewhat different twist on the phrase 'educating children'; Aquinas sees it not as (merely) teaching little tykes, but as a much larger project of making sure the next generation has the counsel and resources they need throughout their lives. Education of one's children takes different forms, sometimes very different forms, depending on the age of one's children and the stage of one's own life, but it is a responsibility as enduring as the parent-child bond itself. In a sense it is even more so: by foresight we can guide and provide for others long after we are gone, laying up wealth both by teaching and by material inheritance.
I reply that it should be said that matrimony, from the intention of nature, is ordered to the education of the children, not for a certain time only, but rather for the entire life of the children (which is the reason why, by the law of nature, parents are to lay up wealth for their children, and children should inherit from their parents). For that reason, since children are a common good of husband and wife, it is necessary according to the dictum of the law of nature that that association remain perpetually undivided. Thus, the inseparability of matrimony is based on the law of nature.—Super Sent., lib. 4 d. 33 q. 2 a. 1 co.
This puts a somewhat different twist on the phrase 'educating children'; Aquinas sees it not as (merely) teaching little tykes, but as a much larger project of making sure the next generation has the counsel and resources they need throughout their lives. Education of one's children takes different forms, sometimes very different forms, depending on the age of one's children and the stage of one's own life, but it is a responsibility as enduring as the parent-child bond itself. In a sense it is even more so: by foresight we can guide and provide for others long after we are gone, laying up wealth both by teaching and by material inheritance.
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