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the boy

A Tale of Two Books

Monday 03 February 2020 | 2 Comments

About a year ago I read Treasure Island to the Boy. It took us a long time because I read the original, unabridged version. E loved it.

“Daddy, can we read Treasure Island again?” he asked the other day. I thought it might be a good idea to try to read another classic adventure tale instead of re-reading that one, so I suggested Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

I read the opening to him:

The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten. Not to mention rumours which agitated the maritime population and excited the public mind, even in the interior of continents, seafaring men were particularly excited. Merchants, common sailors, captains of vessels, skippers, both of Europe and America, naval officers of all countries, and the Governments of several States on the two continents, were deeply interested in the matter.

For some time past vessels had been met by “an enormous thing,” a long object, spindle-shaped, occasionally phosphorescent, and infinitely larger and more rapid in its movements than a whale.

He was hooked.

“What was it?” he asked.

“Well, that’s what the whole book is about.”

In the course of the opening pages, the longitude and latitude of various sightings. I tried to explain to him what the coordinate system was, but he was a little lost. This evening, after dinner, we looked on Google Earth and mapped out the precise locations of all the sightings of the mysterious creature.

While he was eating his snack, I read another chapter to him. It’s kind of slow going: he asks for definitions of a lot of words, and the sentences are so long, with so many embedded subordinate clauses and prepositional phrases, that it’s hard for him to follow. Here’s an example:

Taking into consideration the mean of observations made at divers times–rejecting the timid estimate of those who assigned to this object a length of two hundred feet, equally with the exaggerated opinions which set it down as a mile in width and three in length–we might fairly conclude that this mysterious being surpassed greatly all dimensions admitted by the learned ones of the day, if it existed at all.

That’s one sentence — it would give my own students fits.

It is in these sentences, though, and the challenging vocabulary that I find the lasting value in the reading. Sure, we’ll have great memories to share; certainly, we’ll enjoy the book. But when it’s time to tackle things like this on his own in school, he’ll have some experience with it because he’ll have heard me reading Jules Verne and Robert Stevenson and eventually Twain and Dickens.

After the Boy was in bed, I was in L’s room, talking to her about the books she’s reading. I’d had in my mind that I wanted to start reading to L again, and I thought A Tale of Two Cities might be a good start. So I asked her if I could read her something.

“Sure,” she said fairly emotionlessly — it’s a thirteen-year-old thing, I’m discovering.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way– in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

As I was reading, she jumped up, skipped over to her bookbag, and dug out her social studies notes. “We went over that in class!” she said excitedly.

She looked through her notes and I saw a heading “The Reign of Terror.”

“That’s where it will be,” I said.

We talked about it for a bit, and that was it. Will we go through with this reading? Does she even want to? I don’t know. I understand less and less of her thirteen-year-old mind, but I know that just being there is often enough. Do I do that enough? It’s the worry of every parent, I suppose.

Patterns

Sunday 02 February 2020 | 0 Comments

Some random thoughts that had bounced around my head during the day having nothing whatsoever to do with the photos...

We are a pattern-seeking species. We see them everywhere, and when they don't occur naturally, we make them appear magically.

Take, for example, all the chatter online and off about the significance of today's date: February 20, 2020. "It's the same forwards and backward!" L explained cheerfully. "A palindrome!" I guess she learned that word from some social media post or other about the date, but there it is:

02022020

It even works if we write the year first, which I do when name files:

20200202

Of course, this only works if we're writing the day and month with leading zeros. Otherwise, it's just 222020 or 202022 -- not nearly so exciting.

If you use the Hebrew calendar, it would be 07055780 or 05075780, depending on whether we're to put the day or month first. In the Islamic calendar, it's 06081441 or 08061441, again depending on whether day or month is to come first.

All of that is to say the obvious: it's an arbitrary, meaningless day made somehow special because of an equally arbitrary way of numbering the day. There is no pattern there. We make the pattern and then feel special when it "appears."

Sometimes, when people see patterns, they read prophetic significance into it. Take, for example, today's reading in mass:

Thus says the Lord GOD:
Lo, I am sending my messenger
to prepare the way before me;
And suddenly there will come to the temple
the LORD whom you seek,
And the messenger of the covenant whom you desire.
Yes, he is coming, says the LORD of hosts.
But who will endure the day of his coming?
And who can stand when he appears?
For he is like the refiner’s fire,
or like the fuller’s lye.
He will sit refining and purifying silver,
and he will purify the sons of Levi,
Refining them like gold or like silver
that they may offer due sacrifice to the LORD.
Then the sacrifice of Judah and Jerusalem
will please the LORD,
as in the days of old, as in years gone by. (Malachi 3.1-4)

Fr. Longenecker suggested that this first portion is a prophecy that was fulfilled when Jesus was presented in the temple. In the day's gospel reading, we find:

The child’s father and mother were amazed at what was said about him;
and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother,
“Behold, this child is destined
for the fall and rise of many in Israel,
and to be a sign that will be contradicted
--and you yourself a sword will pierce--
so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”

And so this is seen as a proof of providence, a proof that God controls everything. Except that the Old Testament source says he will "purify the sons of Levi, / refining them like gold or like silver." Since the majority of the Jews of Jesus's time did not convert to Christianity, it seems the sons of Levi weren't immediately purified -- if that's what it means, and that's not clear either. Perhaps it's about corruption: was there less corruption among the "sons of Levi" after the appearance of Jesus? Hard to say, but doubtful. (I don't even know if there was corruption -- I'm just working under the assumption of people being people.)

So this whole thing presents a pattern of prophecy and it's fulfillment. But it doesn't. It only creates that pattern if we accept certain interpretations (which I don't) and go into it with certain presuppositions (which I don't). For that matter, we don't even know if this Simeon bloke said these things or even if he existed -- the only evidence we have is the scriptural reference, and for many of us, that's dubious at best.

In other words, there is no naturally occurring pattern there. We create the pattern and then feel special when it "appears."

Snow and a Change

Friday 31 January 2020 | 0 Comments

It began snowing this morning. It started and stopped during the two planning periods that begin eighth-grade teachers’ days, and we were all hopeful — teachers that is; I don’t know about the students because they were in related arts, but it’s reasonable to include them as well — that we might have an early dismissal. The temperature kept dropping; the snow kept falling; and then it all stopped.

“Well, there was our snow for this school year,” I joked during dinner. In truth, I’m glad we haven’t had a snow day this year: it means that the built-in make up days remain free, and since they all fall in March, that’s when we really need them.

In the evening, the Boy finally got his new desk — a hand-me-down from big sister.

Sunday

Sunday 26 January 2020 | 0 Comments

Procedures

Tuesday 21 January 2020 | 0 Comments

The Boy decided he wanted to have a snack. "I want a burrito," he declared.

He still had to take his medicine, though.

Adventuring and Exploring

Monday 20 January 2020 | 0 Comments

The Boy was keen on spending some time with me today.

"I missed you from the moment you left," he explained, "and I missed you the whole time you were gone."

"We were only gone a couple of days," I clarified. "In fact, it was only one full day that you didn't see me because we left on Friday and came back Sunday, so you saw us those two days."

"I know. But I missed you."

So when it warmed up a bit in the afternoon, we decided to go adventuring. We headed to one of our favorite spots, crossing the creek twice on bridges we'd built ourselves long ago, crossing it a third time in an entirely new location.

One of the things I like most about these adventures is the conversations we have along the way. I can't remember what we talked about today, and that's sort of the point: they're just carefree conversations about nothing in particular.

We have been coming to this area for years, in fact:

Exploring

Friday Exploring

Exploring with the Boys

Value

Sunday 12 January 2020 | 2 Comments

We were playing Monopoly this evening and the Boy bought his first railroad. It's always his plan to try to get all four railroads. When L landed on the next railroad, she bought it for $200, then offered to sell it to E for $400; he accepted the offer. I tried to explain to him why this was a bad deal, that paying double for this railroad was not worth it at this point, but he was stubborn and would not listen.

"It might be worth it if this were your final railroad," I told him. "As it is, it's certainly not worth this much money just for the second railroad. There's no guarantee that you'll get either of the other two railroads.

A couple of hours later we were looking through a box of old collector cards that I had. There were baseball cards, football cards, basketball cards, and even, strangely enough, some Star Wars cards that I have gotten from somewhere at some point in my childhood. E asked me how much these cards were worth I tried to explain to him that I really didn't have any idea because there was just no way of knowing.

A newly-discovered creek about a mile from our house

"Where on the cards does it show how much they're worth?" he asked.

"It's not on the cards," I explained. "It all depends on how valuable they are and that depends on how rare they are."

"How could we find out?" he asked.

"We would have to go talk to an expert."

"I think I know an expert." He told me of a friend at school so that's mini baseball cards. "A couple of them are worth a few million dollars."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"Because he told me."

"Do you believe him?"

"No." He thought for a moment then changed his answer.

"Does that make sense?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

I tried to explain to him that if indeed the family had a card which is are several million dollars they certainly wouldn't let the seven-year-old child keep it.

"Why not?"

"Because remember what I told you about Star Wars characters and every other collector item:  they're only valuable if they're in perfect condition. If you bent it, or wrinkled it, or tore it, it would be worthless."

"Why?"

"It's just the way it is," I sighed.

It's all but impossible to explain to a seven-year-old how the scarcity of an item makes something valuable, something which otherwise would have no value, priceless. Baseball cards are just a bit of paper with a picture printed on them. Then again, change the word "paper" to "fabric" and it holds true for money: just a bit of material was a picture printed on it.

In the midst of all this, I've been re-reading Francis Spufford's fantastic book Red Plenty, set in Khrushchev's Soviet Union.

The premise is simple. When Khrushchev was ruling the Soviet Union. it seemed as if the Communist Utopia could indeed come to pass. A state-planned economy that would bypass all the uncertainty and unfairness of supply and demand capitalism seemed achievable. Vacuum tubes and algorithms made such calculations on such a scale achievable.

View at Good Reads

The book follows various characters as they weave their way through the creation of this Utopia, each playing their own part. Mathematicians, economists, biologists, Politburo members, Eisenhower, Khrushchev, and others all appear in the novel. All of the Soviet characters are searching for the formula that will make the magic Elixir of Plenty. Plenty of meat. Plenty of bread. Plenty of apartments. Plenty of cars. Plenty of everything.

Within all of this, the chief problem is how to assign value to both work and commodities. The book, which is part-novel, part-history, is filled with characters fictional and real; many events of the book are actual events in history. It's nearly 500 dense pages telling the story of just over 70 years of men and women working feverishly to determine a mathematical and certain way of deciding value.

If they couldn't do it, I'm not sure I can explain it to a seven-year-old in one evening.

Rainy, Sick, and Slow Saturday: Three Pictures

Saturday 11 January 2020 | 0 Comments

Picture One: The Medicine

The Girl has been fighting a sinus and ear infection for some time now; K has now come down with something as well. As such, they’ve amassed quite a little medicine collection: antibiotics, probiotics, decongestants, cough suppressants from the pharmacological side of things; oils, teas, syrups, and nose irrigators from the holistic side of things.

It’s all covered, literally and figuratively.

Picture Two: The Game

The Boy has grown crazy about Pokemon lately. He decided he wanted to buy a deck for himself and another for L using his final Christmas gift money.

“She’s going to teach me how to battle for real!” he declared. The way he’s been playing has been, shall we say, improvisational. The Girl knows how to play; she promised to teach him.

At $20 a deck, it’s quite the investment. I was hesitant to let him go through with it, but two things stopped me: first, it is, after all, his money. He needs to learn how to spend it wisely, so I gave advice, made suggestions, but in the end left it up to him. Second, I thought that if this gave them something to do together, just the two of them, it would be worth more than that $40 for the two decks. So we bought them while we were out today.

At first, he was terribly upset because we couldn’t find the decks. When we found them, there was only one. “But we checked on the computer and they said they had them!” he wailed, about to have a little panic attack there in the toy section. “They lied!” I tried to explain to him that just because they found them on the Walmart site doesn’t mean they have them in that particular store. I pulled up the site on my phone and showed him. In the end, though, he took the disappointment rather well.

As we were checking out, though, he decided to look in the checkout aisles. “They have them there, sometimes.” Sure enough, after we’d checked out, he found some, so we grabbed them and went to the nearest checkout, which was a self-checkout. Which I don’t like. Why should the store get free labor from me? Still, if the other checkouts all have long lines, I’ll go ahead to the self-checkout.

The gentleman in front of us was a prime illustration of the slow South. He picked up each item, turned it about in his hand to confirm where the bar code was, scanned it, placed it in a bag, took the individual bag with one item to his buggy, placed it carefully in the buggy, moving other bags as necessary to get everything just so, then repeated it. He looked to be in his mid-fifties so I couldn’t salve my impatience thinking, “Well, here’s this sweet old man, still clinging to his independence…” Of course, I really don’t know the guy’s story — there are any number of reasons why he moved so very slowly and deliberately. But it’s symptomatic of what I see as a slow Southern mentality. Don’t rush. For anything.

When the light turns green at an intersection, for example, most drivers don’t respond immediately. They wait, even to take their foot off the brake. Sometimes two or three seconds. Sometimes five. Sometimes ten. They creep into the intersection and take what seems like an eternity to get up to the speed limit, and there’s no guarantee they’ll even get to the speed limit: they often drive five, even ten miles an hour below it.

Anyway…

After dinner, the instruction began. And the first game didn’t go so well.

“Go easy on him!” I mouthed to L when she wasn’t looking.

“I did!” she mouthed in reply.

Picture Three: Rain

I spent about four hours working on end-of-the-quarter grades today. When lunch rolled around, I didn’t even have 1,000 steps. By the time shopping and dinner was over, I had just over 5,000.

“After I put the Boy to bed,” I said to Clover, “we’re going on a long walk.”

And then the rain started again.

Beyblade

Tuesday 07 January 2020 | 0 Comments

The Boy has wanted a beyblade for quite some time now. I didn't even know what it was, and even after he explained it to me, I was still a little fuzzy on the details.

It is, in essence, a gyroscope. With pretend blades. That it uses to battle other gyroscopes.

We had a little trouble getting it working, though. Rather, getting "them" working, because he bought a pair so we could battle. I think it's some knock-off version because absolutely nothing in the packaging was in English. That and the price. The whole process resulted in a lot of frustration for E because I wasn't at first helping him figure it out.

At his age, the Boy doesn't have a lot of coping mechanisms when frustration looms. We try to talk him through situations, and we try to get him to take breaks from frustrating situations, ask for help, try to approach the problem from a different perspective, but that's all very cerebral and that frustration, I know, burns with an almost physical presence in the body.

The Van

Thursday 02 January 2020 | 0 Comments

This is the backseat of our van. The backseat that held our children during trips here and there: to school, Nana’s and Papa’s, to Florida, to the beach, to the mountains, to soccer, to dance, to gymnastics, to basketball, to parties, to funerals, to church, to friends’ homes, to parks, to my school, to K’s office, to the airport, and always back home.

I’ll bet there was a time I would have been sentimental about the thought of selling this thing, but not now. Let it haul someone else’s kids somewhere else.