fun in threes, sometimes fours
It's easy to weed when you have a semi-set schedule, when there's not a little squirmy body waiting for regular feeding, when evenings seem to drift by. But we have a wonderful squirmy baby, and evenings don't drift by, and we have no schedule of our own. As such, weeding happens at six in the morning...
Thanks to an old friend, I revisited the now-famous, allegedly anti-business Obama quote that's getting conservatives' dander up across the country. My thinking, though, led me in a slightly different direction than my friend might have hoped. Being a supporter of Obama, I would suspect that he might hope my conclusions might be a little more left-leaning.
If you've got a business, you didn't build that.
Anyone notice what I did there? Hopefully someone asked the question, "Wait -- who is the supporter of Obama? You or your friend?" I purposely concluded that paragraph with a sentence using an English teacher's old nemesis: the dangling participle. Technically, that "being a support of Obama" modifies the nearest noun or pronoun, in this case, "I." Yet I don't think many people doubt that I certainly don't support Obama, though I did vote for him in 2008. Then again, maybe not everyone knows that.
Oh, see, I did it again. This time, I used one of English teachers' other enemies: the unclear pronoun antecedent. Just what was I referring to when I said "Then again, maybe not everyone knows that?" Just what is "that" taking the place of? There are two possibilities:
In this case, it could be either of the two. We just don't know what I might have been referring to when I said some people don't know "that."
Looking back at what Obama said, it's clear that he's not being the blatantly anti-business ideologue everyone on the right is accusing him of being.
If you were successful, somebody along the line gave you some help. There was a great teacher somewhere in your life. Somebody helped to create this unbelievable American system that we have that allowed you to thrive. Somebody invested in roads and bridges. If you've got a business, you didn't build that. Somebody else made that happen. The Internet didn't get invented on its own. Government research created the Internet so that all the companies could make money off the Internet.
What is he referring to when he says, "you didn't build that"? Technically, as with my first example, it's modifying the nearest possible agent, in this case, the subordinate clause, "If you've got a business." But look earlier: "Someone invested in roads and bridges." Could it be that that is the "that" that he's referring to?
See how confusing "that" can be? It serves so many roles in our language. Among others:
Is it any wonder that that "that" can get just a bit confusing? In other languages, there is differentiation, different words entirely, but not in English.
Obama made a grammatical error. It happens all the time, to all of us.
Granted, Obama should not have even said "that" if he were referring to "roads and bridges." He should have said "those," which would have eliminated the confusion. And this leads to a likely conservative rebuttal: "Alright, so he made a grammar boo-boo. It's a slip, though, that is nothing more than a manifestation of his anti-business ideology." Possibly, but I don't see that we can make that claim here. It was an error: in spoken English, even the best of us make mistakes like dangling participles and unclear pronoun antecedents.
Still, it is worrying that so many are making such a big deal out of this. It makes the right look relatively foolish, especially when (and here's where my liberal friend will likely begin disagreeing with me) what he said was a thousand times worse than merely a clumsy anti-business remark. Look at the whole context of that "that," with some of my emphasis added:
We've already made a trillion dollars' worth of cuts. We can make some more cuts in programs that don't work, and make government work more efficiently…We can make another trillion or trillion-two, and what we then do is ask for the wealthy to pay a little bit more …
There are a lot of wealthy, successful Americans who agree with me, because they want to give something back. They know they didn't -- look, if you've been successful, you didn't get there on your own. You didn't get there on your own. I'm always struck by people who think, well, it must be because I was just so smart. There are a lot of smart people out there. It must be because I worked harder than everybody else. Let me tell you something -- there are a whole bunch of hardworking people out there.
If you were successful, somebody along the line gave you some help. There was a great teacher somewhere in your life. Somebody helped to create this unbelievable American system that we have that allowed you to thrive. Somebody invested in roads and bridges. If you've got a business. you didn't build that. Somebody else made that happen. The Internet didn't get invented on its own. Government research created the Internet so that all the companies could make money off the Internet.
The point is, is that when we succeed, we succeed because of our individual initiative, but also because we do things together. There are some things, just like fighting fires, we don't do on our own. I mean, imagine if everybody had their own fire service. That would be a hard way to organize fighting fires.
So we say to ourselves, ever since the founding of this country, you know what, there are some things we do better together. That's how we funded the GI Bill. That's how we created the middle class. That's how we built the Golden Gate Bridge or the Hoover Dam. That's how we invented the Internet. That's how we sent a man to the moon. We rise or fall together as one nation and as one people, and that's the reason I'm running for president -- because I still believe in that idea. You're not on your own, we're in this together.
Obama is not simply suggesting that businesses succeed because of others' work; he's suggesting that because of that, those who succeed owe something to those who didn't. He's suggesting that the only fair thing is to ask those who are successful to pay more than those who are not successful. After all, they got successful off of our hard work as well as theirs. They rode our backs to success. Their success depends on us.
Isn't that starting to sound familiar? Say, Moscow, circa 1915? No, I'm not suggesting that this is an attempt to recreate a communist revolution in America. I'm not even convinced one can say Obama is a socialist. I do see myself as a right-leaning moderate, after all.
Still, it strikes me as yet another attempt to frame this whole issue in terms of class struggle. "Dang it, those rich folks used our roads to run their dump trucks on to build their fortune."
So what do we do? We "ask the wealthy to pay a little bit more."
Yet this is missing the obvious point: the rich did help pay for those roads, and if certain figures I've heard bandied about are to be believed, they in fact paid a great deal for those roads. Not only that, but they often are paying for services they aren't getting: if they chose to spend money to send their children to private schools, they're paying taxes for public education and tuition for private education. That's a choice they have and are free to make, but taking that into consideration, it seems a little odd to complain about how they're not paying their fair share.
So it seems conservatives are really missing the significance of this speech. Obama made a grammar goof that they're jumping all over while ignoring the real issues in his ideology.
They're hearing what they want to hear.
Of course, being human, liberals are also guilty of that charge, but that's for a later post.
Why talk about the weather unless you’re in an uncomfortable situation? Perhaps when the weather is exceptional? Perhaps a week with almost daily rain in the heat of a South Carolina July?
Still, it’s not so much the rain, or even the storm, that’s worthy of comment: it’s the still-green grass in the front yard midway through July that’s striking.
There’s only one letter difference between them, but perhaps that’s on purpose. At five, best friends can turn into worst enemies and back to bosom buddies again in the space of seconds.
Yet things can be complicated further, for little brothers cause trouble, and L’s best friend has a little brother.
Little brothers get frustrated with big brothers and their friends do things that purposely irritate or exclude them. They are likely to destroy totally big brother’s blanket tent if big brother doesn’t allow him to join in the fun. Little brothers are for teaching patience and sharing.
So get ready, L.
Today the theme was simple and prophetic. Again and again, the Girl performed the simple act that we have been raising her to do, the act we’ve been fearing for her to begin, the act we’re always excited to watch.
Forward momentum with a temporary moment of uncertainty.
Knowing and not knowing what the next second holds.
Having a certain faith that whatever happens next, it will be for the best.
Going for it.
Taking risks that might ultimately sink her.
Today, the Girl jumped, in more senses than one.
The Boy's first outing back in late May was to the Girl's ballet recital. (Can't embed because of copyright issues.)
When Papa is around and the topic is politics (or religion or history or sports or any number of things), it can be hard to get a word in. When Papa is around with the Boy, it's easy to get a word in, but it's hard to pry the Boy out of Papa's arms.
From the beginning of any visit, Nana just waits patiently, often pretending to be content to look on as Papa burps, rocks, cuddles, and coos with the Boy. When Nana finally gets to hold him, Papa is eager to "help" by taking him back. Let Nana sit just so and pinch a nerve or find her leg slightly uncomfortable and make any kind of sound that even vaguely hints at discomfort, and Papa is ready.
"You okay? You want me to take him?"
He's like a kid with a new toy. An expensive new toy. That cries. And passes gas. And gets fussy for no apparent reason. And then coos to sooth everyone's nerves.
"If I'd known being a grandfather was so much fun..." he often begins the now-familiar joke.
This summer vacation provides me with the first real opportunity in a long time to spend a great deal of daily time with the Girl. As such, I try to do something out of the ordinary with her every chance I get. It's a good reminder for her of her continued importance in our family despite our shift in attention during the last eight weeks.
Today, we try a new path at a park fairly new to us. We'd explored the north side of the park's trails; today, we hit the south side, sounding out signs as we marched.
It's an odd trail. To the right we see a lake and accompanying wetlands -- a vision of nature's riches.
To the left, a view of humanity's poverty: trailers and virtual shanties. It's an odd combination, made even stranger by the fact that one of the old homes has a BMW in the driveway. Perhaps a question of priorities: one's peers don't have to see one's house, but one's car is always on show.
At the end of our walk, an observation point that juts out into the wetland area made even wetter by the copious rainfall of the last few days.
We sit for a while, sharing a pack of crackers and sipping on water, careful not to litter ("The wind could blow the plastic away!" someone explains) and commenting on the various blooms reeds.
During our hike out, with the Girl clasping her hands behind her back, there's only one thing to do: let her lead.
We saw them in the morning as we were heading to summer ballet: a company from Georgia was digging up portions of the street and shoulder to lay pipe. There were various vehicles for digging, grading, and flattening, and I proposed, "After ballet we could walk up here and watch them use those big machines."
We decided it might be a good photo opportunity, so I took our big camera and L took our small camera, telling jokes on the walk to the top of our street where we'd seen them working. I hoped it might inspire the Girl to take pictures of something other than the ground, her favorite subject.
When we arrived, though, the workers had already left. Their various tractors stood idle, some of their cabs enclosed in pad-locked sheets of metal. "Perhaps they begin early in the morning to avoid the heat," I suggested. Still, we decided to look around, first examining an old Ford tractor's street brush attachment.
"Know what this is for?" I asked.
"It's wire!" was the answer.
"Yes, but what do you think they use it for?"
A shrug. "Dunno." (Where did that come from? Where does she pick up all these things? Is she a sponge?)
"They use use it to clean the street." I paused. "Funny, huh?"
Giggles for a moment, then she exclaimed, "I need to take a picture of that." She took two, both of them fairly well composed for the Girl's thrust-camera-forward-and-click photo composition method.
And of course, being the photo-geek I am, I had to take a picture of her taking pictures.
"Why is it blue?" she asked.
"Because they wanted to make it your favorite color" I replied. She gave me that look she's now mastered that says clearly, "There's no way I believe that."
She clarified: "But why isn't it all blue?"
"I don't know," I responded, hoping that would be the end of it. Accepting the limits of my knowledge is something that takes time for the Girl. Later in life, we refer to this as the realization of one's father's mortality; for now, it's simply impossible that Tata doesn't know everything.
Yet I do know how to operate a camera, and lately L has become more aware of being the object of photos, and so it was today. Pictures were posing events.
New locations, new shots. New questions, new fears overcome. Each day with the Girl can be filled with surprises.
And there was even a bit of role playing.
Mention "snake" or "reptile" and a lot of people have very negative reactions, from shudders to shouts and just about everything in between. Snakes are probably one of the most feared animals in existence, but it's an odd reality: most are relatively harmless.
Yet it's really a taught fear, in some cases on purpose. It makes sense in a way: most people can't tell the difference between venomous and non-venomous snakes, so it's only natural to teach a child to stay away from all snakes at all costs.
Fortunately, I've never really had a fear of snakes. Indeed, they've always fascinated me. I'd like my children to have the same attitude I have: a healthy respect for snakes in the wild (i.e., never touch them) and an understanding that snakes in captivity are another question altogether. If, for example, a lecturer comes with dozens of snakes and lizards and offers the children an opportunity to touch and even, with adult help, to hold the snakes, I'd take the gentleman up on his offer, which is just what happened today.
Ron Cromer, with his Snakes Alive program, came to a local library as a reward for kids participating in the summer reading program. According to the program's web site,
Many people who enjoy nature become profoundly distressed upon encountering a snake. Some folks feel that the only good snake is a dead snake. Learning about snakes provides an opportunity to replace fear and misconception with knowledge. It is our goal to provide knowledge and a safe opportunity to meet these reptiles in hopes of alleviating some fear.
Kids learned about how to distinguish venomous and non-venomous snakes in the area and had a chance to replace some of the old myths (snakes are slimy, cold, dangerous) with some new-found realities. To that end and with adult help, seventy or so kids got the chance to touch snakes and even hold them if they were willing.
I volunteered with the other adults to help out with the snakes, thinking it would be a great chance to help the Girl develop a healthy attitude about snakes. She was willing to touch but was not interested in holding.
And this was certainly the case with the star of the show, Rosie, an enormous python that Cromer, by law, has to keep doubly contained, in a duffle bag that's pad-locked in a wooden trunk.
The routine was to be simple: eight adults would initially hold Rosie while providing kids with the opportunity to touch her and even help hold her. But first, we had to get her out,
which was a multi-step process
that seemed never-ending
as we pulled and added person after person,
until finally, we had the whole, enormous Rosie out. Once we were all solidly in possession of our bit of snake ("Have some snake," Cromer said has he guided us in Rosie's extraction), our host informed us that we were in fact to lift the snake above our heads for full effect.
I thought he was joking.
He wasn't.
The Girl, by this time, had fled to the "Snake-free Zone" Cromer had set up for kids and adults (mainly the latter) who didn't really feel comfortable being near snakes. It wasn't so much the snakes that drove her there as the crowd: a large group of people means almost instant uneasiness for her. And if that's what she takes away from the day, that people are much more threatening than snakes, then it was definitely a success.
Photos with me in them were taken by a neighbor who met us there.
A few years ago, we had our first problem with yellow jackets. I took the problem very seriously. Well, somewhat seriously.
In short, I was terrified. I didn’t want to get stung, and I had this vision of them swarming out of their hole to attack, hence the layers and layers and layers.
Recently, a new batch took up residence in our front yard. I took things a little less seriously than I did in 2007. I threw an old window screen over the hole at dusk and went at them through the screen. Still, I was cautious, wearing jeans, long sleeves, and boots.
And so yesterday, I chanced upon our third nest of visitors. I’d inadvertently run over the nest a couple of times with the mower, so we were well on our way to making friends already.
This morning, I gave them a housewarming present: three gallons of boiling water.
A few more gallons in the early evening and I think they’ve got the point.
If only I could leave pheromone signs up: “You’re welcome to hang out here, but build your nest in a far corner of the backyard, well away from anywhere my children would be likely to play.”
We spent the evening with adult friends, which means the Girl got to watch more television than she normally does. In a string of semi-guided clicks and choices, she ended up watching a made-for-TV “family” movie, Princess: A Modern Fairy Tale. It was a typical modern story, with a couple of lines of almost-sexual innuendo that I decided I would sit with the Girl and watch a fairly simplistic story about a “princess” (I never quite understood why she had to be a modern-day “princess” in an American urban center other than the fact that it allowed others to think her a freak.) who in fact is the healer for all the mythical creatures that in fact aren’t: in other words, unicorns, mermaids, and fairies actually exist but a handful of people are aware of the simple fact.
At one point, there was a scene with a hydra-like creature attacking an unbeliever (who quickly came to believe in hydras, unicorns and such), and as quickly as one could imagine, the Girl was in my arms.
“I’m scared,” she said.
I went through the usual statements of fact — “It’s just a movie” and the like — but I knew what was coming at bed time.
“Daddy, I think I need someone to sleep with me,” she said in all earnestness. I comforted her, assured her of the safety of our home, and a thousand other things. She calmed down, but a few minutes later she called me back, in tears. After repeating the process, I returned a few minutes later to find her sound asleep. I wondered briefly at the fears she had held at bay long enough to drift to sleep, and I realized what a brave girl she can be.
The Boy has become fascinated with a small cow, a singing, vibrating cow that includes a soundtrack of children giggling to the silly song.
It’s tempting to say, “It’s just his tendency to look to the right.” Yet the fact that it calms him almost instantaneously indicates there’s something more to it.
“I’m making a play area for the cat,” the Girl explains.
If only her idea of playing with the cat included gentleness: she might have more success.
When we brought the Boy home, the Girl was eager to begin helping. Granted, she's always interested in helping--in name, anyway--but a baby brother is especially tempting. So we did the logical: we put her on pacifier duty.