Month: January 2007

Intelligent Falling

From the Onion:

Scientists from the Evangelical Center For Faith-Based Reasoning are now asserting that the long-held “theory of gravity” is flawed, and they have responded to it with a new theory of Intelligent Falling. […]

According to the ECFR paper published simultaneously this week in the International Journal Of Science and the adolescent magazine God’s Word For Teens!, there are many phenomena that cannot be explained by secular gravity alone, including such mysteries as how angels fly, how Jesus ascended into Heaven, and how Satan fell when cast out of Paradise. (Onion)

As with most stuff from the Onion, it’s worth a read…

Polish Scandal(s)

The Wielgus scandal in Polska right now highlights the strange role the church plays in the country’s collective psyche. Intensely Catholic, Poland is a bit of a paradox when it comes down to praxis — while most Poles label themselves “Catholic,” there is a sizable percentage that doesn’t live Catholic. Birth control is not a sin, nor is missing a Sunday mass. Still, Catholicism in Poland is big, to put it crudely. As Anne Applebaum put it in Slate,

This could only have happened in post-Communist Poland. Where else would millions of people be avidly watching the live transmission of an archbishop’s inaugural mass? (Source)

I too have experienced the occasional spectator nature of Polish Catholicism. Sitting in a bar before John Paul II died, I was privy to a speculation about who could be his successor. And the discussion included names, and it had the free feeling of fans sitting in a sports bar, discussing the upcoming NFL draft.

The relationship with Communism is equally odd. While no one wants to go back to the days of informants, secret police, and closed borders, there is a longing in some quarters for a return to the “security” of Communism. Take into consideration the fact that the unemployment rate in Poland hovers around 19% and it’s clear what that “security” is.

So when these to monolithic components of Polish identity collide, it’s bound to be explosive. Even many not-so-devout Poles have a view of the Catholic church as being a stalwart moral guide under Communism. The Polish Catholic church stood up to Communism, and eventually, Communism collapsed. But priests and bishops are fallible, weak people too, it turns out, and the lure of privileges dangled by those in charge proved too tempting to some.

But why the sudden crisis, now, in 2007? John Paul II. Craig Smith writes, in the International Herald Tribune:

Perhaps the most explosive assertion by people in the church is that the taint of collaboration was known for decades but kept quiet out of respect for — or perhaps even at the behest of — Polish-born Pope John Paul II who died in 2005.

“The church didn’t want to hurt the pope, but actually, more harm was done by keeping silent,” said Zaleski at the hilltop compound of a charitable organization he runs outside of Krakow. (IHT)

So I expect there’ll be more of the same in coming months and years.

Enter: LMS, Part V :: Birth

One two, one two — chop chop! There’s a sense of urgency to the arrival at the hospital that I’ve never experienced before. Yet, strangely calm urgency.

We get to the emergency room and the attendant grabs a wheelchair for K and I head back out to park the car. By the time I come virtually sprinting into the birthing room, K is on the bed, a nurse is getting a vast array of implements ready, and we’re all wondering when the midwife is going to arrive.

The nurse hooks up the two belts around K’s belly that measure the contractions and L’s heartbeat. She goes over some paperwork with K (“Would you refuse any particular type of medical intervention on religious grounds?” and the like) and then the midwife comes in. This is something like her 1,600th birth — she’s calm, calm, calm.

Contractions continue. Questions continue. More nurses come in and prepare a tray covered with various “sharps” — scissors, scalpels, needles, and a few things that look more Inquisitorial than medical.

Paperwork complete and sharps in place, it’s time to get K to the tub. I glance at my watch — it’s something like 6:40 am. We’ve only been there a little over forty minutes. Things are going so fast that it’s difficult for me to keep everything in perspective.

Once K’s in the, everything calms. K relaxes so much — and is so exhausted — that she actually begins falling asleep between contractions, which are coming with more frequency and lasting longer. I begin thinking, “Forget this hours in labor stuff — we’re having this baby within a few minutes.”

Close.

LMSThrough this all, K’s constant question: “When will I know to push?” The midwife, the nurses, everyone (except the only man in the room) respond with a reassuring laugh: “Oh, you’ll know.” One compared it to the feeling you get when you absolutely have to have a BM and there’s no toilet around. Nothing like a metaphor even the man can understand.

Sure enough, within a few minutes, K says, “I think I need to push.” And push she does, probably a total of less than ten times.

At 8:05, L makes her appearance, covered in cheesy Vernix caseosa, which the midwife advises K to use as lotion around her eyes. Her eyes, not L’s. “It’s the best moisturizer in nature,” she explained.

Within minutes, K’s in the bed, with L lying on her chest, and G standing around in a daze…

Latching

When she’s hungry, she’ll latch onto almost anything…

Kisses for Papa

When L’s upset, she starts rooting like mad.

Occasionally, it looks like kisses.

Our First Date

As parents, anyway. My folks came down for a visit this afternoon and let us go off for a couple of hours while they watched the lovely Poopsmith. We went downtown for a walk…

The street entertainment was amusing…

Entertainer and Audience

The selection of baked goods was wonderful at the European-style cafe/bakery we used to frequent more, well, frequently before Enter: Poopsmith

Decisions...

The walk that followed was short…

Lexington Ave

but some of the views were, well, typical of a mountain city.

High and Low

And of course K was calling back to the folks every, oh, fifteen minutes.

More pictures at Flickr. (Just click on any of the above pics.)

To Spark a Controversy

Alright, I goofed. I mistranslated “iskra” as “ember” because, translating on the fly, I guessed from context and asked K whether it was “something from a fire…” Guess that covers ember and spark.

Nina corrected me, and I’ve been thinking about it since.

Not to be stubborn, I still prefer “ember.” Why?

“Spark” in my mind conjures images of particles floating, not sitting in a fire, as the “storyteller” in the lullaby is implied to be doing. It “winks” (mrugac); it doesn’t float; it doesn’t fly; it doesn’t soar. “Winking” is the perfect description of the what the small embers, buried under ash at the edge of the ash pit, do.

The only thing that “spark” has going for it (other than literalness) is the fact that in the verse it shines “for a moment” and then disappears. Embers tend to last longer than that.

Not content with all this, I went to a dictionary — an English-English dictionary, for there’s no question that “iskra” is literally “spark.” My only question was whether or not I was properly understanding “spark” in English, that all my connotations had been justifiable.

1. An incandescent particle, especially: a. One thrown off from a burning substance. b. One resulting from friction. c. One remaining in an otherwise extinguished fire; an ember. 2. A glistening particle, as of metal. 3a. A flash of light, especially a flash produced by electric discharge. b. A short pulse or flow of electric current.

And there it is: “an ember.”

The whole thing simply underlines what I was initially saying about translation: it can be very if-y. The original title of a biography of Singer I’ve been reading, literally translated, is Landscapes of the Memory. Madeline Levine, the translator, gave the title Lost Landscapes. Strictly speaking, this is incorrect — the word “lost” appears nowhere in the original Polish title — but I think it works better than the literal rendering.

Additionally, I’ve read English/Polish side-by-side editions of Czeslaw Milosz’s work and Wislawa Szymborska’s poems — often, so radically different from a literal rendering as to be shocking. But in each case, a literal rendering doesn’t capture nearly as much as the published translation.

I’ve never taken a course in translation, or read a book about it, so I can’t really say whether or not anyone would defend using “ember” instead of “spark” in the above example. But, bottom line, it works, underlining the slippery nature of language.

Christmas Pictures

The other night we tried to take a picture of L in front of the Christmas tree. We figured that this would be the last night we’d have an opportunity. I took a few with the flash, and then I tried to get some without.

L in motion

And of course, she began moving. Like mad. (As always, click on the picture for more images at Flickr.)