essaysbysean.blogspot.com
Recent Anecdotes
AND
Taking Stock
Context
A good writer is like a good
conversationalist: You can’t say everything you know…. But I sure wish I could.
A computer wizard and essayist at
Google, “Stevey” Yegge, once said he had way too much stuff to write on. How
much? He said it felt like shoving an elephant through a keyhole. Meanwhile, a
computer millionaire and essayist, Paul Graham, no doubt with his own
elephants, wrote that he uses footnotes to contain digressions. Me too. Even
so, I find myself having to withhold some darn fine footnotes.
While I always have space for a few
footnotes, I never find space to include anecdotes and explanations. Until
today. Having finished another of my website administrator’s “page” of 25 titles,
I feel entitled to have a catch-up-on-anecdotes day.
Recent Anecdotes
… Christopher Columbus was once at
a big formal dinner of men and women. This was a couple decades after he had
discovered the New World. At his table a young man sneered that Christopher
hadn’t done anything special: lots of people are crossing the Atlantic these
days. Chris didn’t engage him. Instead, he addressed the other diners: “It’s
possible to balance your hard boiled egg on one end. Can anyone else do so?”
Everyone got interested, they all tried to balance their dinner egg, and all
failed—including that young man. All eyes were on Chris as he held his egg
upright at the table—and then tapped the end so it crumpled… into a base that
would support the egg, balanced.
The young man was still in sneer
mode. “Anyone could have balanced their egg, if they knew that trick.”
Chris said calmly “Yes, and anyone
could have sailed to the New World, once I showed them how.” … For (October) Television
Appreciation.
… Bertrand Russell was a brilliant
man, born into the Victorian Age. A foolish age, as we can read in Jerome K
Jerome’s 19th century comic novel Three Men in a Boat. Jerome
satirizes how if an unmarried woman gets pregnant then she has no way to repent
for her sin, no option but suicide! (Of course, Jerome tells it far better than
I can)
As for Russell, in his essays he
raged at the foolish beliefs of his peers. He despised society’s belief that to
keep young people away from any pre-marital sex, society could simply hide all
information about sex until after they were married adults. Hide any statues,
hide any oil paintings—hide any art, no matter how classic or priceless,
that could reveal what people looked like under their clothes. Withhold
inform-ation! Then all the men and women, right up until their marriage, would
be innocent and chaste and sexless and celibate. Russell hated how, as these
actions failed, society said the answer was to censor even more, try even
harder. The theory behind all this madness, of course, was that being
heterosexual was an inform-ed choice.
At last, finally, we know that
feeling heterosexual is not a choice, but is pre-programmed from birth into the
very cells of the body, thanks to “evolution.” We have learned our lesson. Or
have we? As Santayana said, “Those who forget history are condemned to repeat
it”: Our US cousins—even unto the 21st century—still think feeling
homosexual is an informed “choice.” … For (October) Fools and Their Choices.
… Remember that TV situation
comedy, Seinfeld? It made a lot of people happy. After it finally ended, for
several seasons afterwards, I kept reading about the “Seinfeld curse”: Back
then, none of the actors were able to make it as “the star” of their own
series. Really? Stars? They were all nice ensemble actors, but…
And who can forget Lindsey Lohan?
She was the star of Mean Girls, a film based on the nonfiction book Queen Bees
and Wannabees. I loved that movie! Meanwhile, the train wreck of Lindsey
Lohan’s life just goes on and on. At first, some reporters had wondered “when”
or “if” she would make a “come back.” Not now… Really? A come back?
If Lohan would drop her
addiction-fueled grandiosity, and be content with only a humble walk-on part,
and later a small supporting role, then Lohan could start on the long straight
road of abstinent recovery; …
meanwhile, if the Seinfield cast put being actors in supporting roles ahead of being
“the” star, then, being already (presumably) rich for life, they could, without
the distraction of earning the rent, enjoy the road to mastering their craft.
There is no silly curse: Everyone
just needs to embrace being humble. … For (November) Humble and Iraq.
… No wonder Canada is a land of
immigrants: Such an immense land! Five and a half time zones! No one ever
drives all across it. When you do drive, and you finally come to a small town,
and you’re thirsty for good fellowship, all you need to do is look for the
Canadian flag: If it’s not at the city hall then it’s flying at the Royal
Canadian Legion: For war veterans. Active in the community, for all sorts of
volunteer causes, the Legion is as Canadian as a railroad, grain elevator or an
outdoor ice hockey rink. Note: Under the liquor laws, since the Legion is a
private club, you have to be invited, or be a member, in order to go inside.
One day a man went into a Legion
hall and asked to sign up as a member. He was wearing a typical Canadian lumber
jacket. The man at the desk, wearing his proud blue blazer and blue Legion
beret, grabbed a form and said, “OK. Were you in the Royal Canadian Air Force?”
“No, not the RCAF.”
“Were you in the navy?”
“No.”
“Ah, the army then.”
“Nope.”
Big exasperation: “Then what were
you in?”
Big smile: “I was in the
Luftwaffe!”
Yes, they allowed him to join. True
story. He was the first. After him, the Legion made it official that axis
veterans were welcome.
I came across this story while
researching the Legion for a college term paper as part of a class on
volunteers and volunteer-run organizations. This was a few years before our
winter Olympics, the Games where Calgary surprised the world with our
widespread use of volunteers. I’ve written before of how North Americans, from
better citizenship, are better at volunteering than Europeans. Calgary folk, as
it happens, are especially good. Official observers from France looked on with
wonder but were unable to duplicate our great volunteer component for their own
Games four years later.
When I presented my paper to my
class, as part of my diploma in Therapeutic Recreation, (Leisure Services) I
learned something about college students. As I told this anecdote, standing in
front where I could see everyone, I was careful to hold back the punch line,
careful to make the very last word in the very last sentence be “Luftwaffe.” I
watched as half the class contorted in mirth, and the other half remained
perfectly still…. I learned people could be smart enough for
college yet not have basic WWII vocabulary. … For (October) Hatred and Canadian Muslims.
Taking Stock
As for my yet again “Taking Stock”
of another page of 25 post titles, well, what can I say? After recently being translated
again I’ve resorted to spelling “translators” all in caps, as in “TRANSLATORS,
please comment so I don’t die of curiosity.” I guess I could have been a little
faster to capitalize… As is, about 20 guys in the former “worker’s paradise” of
Moldova, interested in my (April) Peace Without Democracy, a piece with references to
Marxism, have made no effort to feel “worker’s solidarity” with me: They left
me no comments. I suppose this is merely due to human nature, not from formerly
being dirty Godless communists.
After all, Buffy fans—2,121 hits
and still counting--don’t comment either, which reminds me: When I expanded my (January) Buffy essay into (October) Television Appreciation on this page I didn’t think to add the
label (tag) "Buffy" until it had been out for a week. Reason? I forgot. Plainly,
the many fans who didn’t comment didn’t make enough of an impression on me, not
enough for me to remember to make a label for them.
Going by hit counts for the
previous “25-titles” my two most popular posts were both ones where I felt I was
a “minority of one.” For this latest page I made an essay where I felt I was
most especially a minority of one, because I dared to argue against making
Internet links. And to my surprise, for this page, that’s the essay with the
most hits by far. That’s heartening—or is it?
I have a reason to doubt: This
morning as I lay in bed a memory popped in. One night I was at the Ship and
Anchor pub for an evening of garage bands. One band was especially bad, while
also being especially enthusiastic and innocent. So the crowd kept nudging each
other and winking and shouting “More!” And the band innocently obliged. “More!”
I suppose this memory was my subconscious warning me not to take the hit count
for (July) No Links is Good Links too seriously. Perhaps robot search engine crawlers
are using my essay as a pivot. Beats me. Maybe after another 25 posts I’ll have
a clearer view of what my readers like to read.
I suppose the lesson for us all is:
If you know what you like, then don’t just click on it: Write a comment, too.
Sean Crawford
December
Calgary 2012
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