Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

My Five Hundredth Post



Hello reader,
Got life change?

Let's end this blog
   to live anew,
for my dear life,
   and this blog too.

I have moved 
to
seanessay.com


About my new, exciting, delicious, IMPROVED blog, seven FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)

1  Will there be nice long posts?
A: No, nothing over 900 words. Guaranteed.  

2  Will it be a different sort of writing?
A: Yes!... Surprise!

3  How different?
A: Sorry, I don't quite know, and I dare not tell you in advance, in case I fail in my "life renewed."

4   Your last post was a “focused letter” to Derek Sivers, about One to One Conversations.
Will there be more focused letters to Derek?

A: Yes, letters are fun. Besides, I end up revealing more about myself, which is healthy. My first new blog essay is a letter: My Child to be a Leader
UPDATE: Actually, my very first piece is a post to introduce me, called  Me In My Own World.
5  Will there be journalism posts that are “dull but good for you?” Like broccoli? 
A: No, but neither will I write about dogs in funny hats.

6  Will you finish posting your War of the Worlds poems?
A: Maybe, but only a half dozen poems are left, about after the Martians are gone.

7 I like how for years you kept making an essay per week, for 500 essays.

A: You're welcome.... After all those man hours, let's hope I learned something!

Sean Crawford
June-July 2020 (Note to self: My last meta-blog was in February, called How You Learn

Tuesday, May 12, 2020

Beauty and The Art of War


“Every overseas Chinese is a warrior!”
China’s leaders, in 2020, writing to useful idiots and secret agents—call them prostitutes—who are physically living in Canada, but without love of Canada.

Hello reader,
Got beauty?
Leaving last week’s land of thought police, (Part One)
I go to (Part Two) seeing beauty, with Asia in the background.



I’m feeling contemplative.

Before me is a thing of beauty. 

Here is traditional Chinese bookbinding, a method developed during the Ming dynasty. (1338-1644) Scarlet ribbons are stitched across the spine, the thick-stock pages folded in half with the printing on the outside only, pages with both nice calligraphy and print. The cover is black with gold lettering; yet not as stark as that sounds, being offset by a red plaque, with gold calligraphy, pasted into an indentation.

The volume, from the Amherst press, is The Art of War by Sun Zu. (Sunzi) I’ve long owned a paperback copy, in English. This new translation, 2011, is by James Trapp. Does the world need yet another translation of this 2,500 year old text? Actually, yes. I’ll explain below. For now, I’m just contemplating this piece, dipping into it, and thanking another James, one James Clavell.

Clavell, once a starving prisoner of war of the Japanese, is best known to the TV watching public for the mini series Shogun, of old Japan, featuring the handsome actor from the weekly TV series Doctor Kildare, Richard Chamberlain. A huge tome, Shogun is about as thick as a paperback can ever be, a best seller, a book that might especially appeal to fans of Star Trek or history, with its intricate fantastical depictions of a lone Englishman cast ashore, a stranger in a strange land: Castles, ninjas, even great public bathhouses—it’s all good.

I remember, in the 1970’s, lending the book to two brothers still living on our old homestead. When I returned I found my book battered and wilted, like it had been through a whirlwind. “What the heck happened?” I asked. “We both read it, twice.”

I never did return to Shogun, but I read Clavell’s Tai Pan (colonizing Hong Kong) and King Rat (P.O.W.s of the Japanese) twice each. 

Remembering how the Chinese have a cradle-to-grave belief against democracy, and against the democracy of Taiwan… what I also have read twice—later as a little book, first as a Reader’s Digest article—is James Clavell’s grim and controversial The Children’s Story. It’s set down home in the USA. They called Clavell a communist for that one. 

I dimly recall the Readers Digest people having to defend themselves in the next issue. They said the story of poor Johnny, who’s father had been taken away for re-education, was only to dramatize how easily children can be led, and not for any other purpose. This would have been during the good old Kennedy or Johnson years. (Wikipedia mistakenly says 1981) 

For me, it’s nice to contemplate the beauty of Clavell’s idealism. Besides his best sellers, he also took time to write independently, to do what he thought was right. 

As I see it, Clavell wanted to help inform his fellow citizens, realizing that many people know about only their own town and family, and maybe don’t care to know much more. In contrast, I remember when some of us, at least, cared about South Africa’s practice of apartheid, (apart hate) and we helped to stop it, with college students arguing over sanctions. Caring may not be the default, yet it readily follows after efforts by others who do care. 

Clavell realized something: The average educated Chinese housewife knew The Art of War as well as she and her American counterpart both knew a work of English literature, but the American housewife, at the same time, had never heard of The Art of War, and she didn’t have any of its classic concepts as part of her vocabulary. Over here, no one did. 

In the west, as best I can judge by the writings before-and-after World War II of Captain Sir Basil Liddell-Hart, even army officers did not read the book. Not even during the conflicts in French Indochina and Vietnam. 
(Nor during the war in Malaysia, where the British would ultimately defeat the Chinese communist guerrillas, partly because the British cared enough to design their armoured cars to fit between rows of rubber trees, mostly because the Chinese insurgents were too chauvinist to convert the surrounding nonChinese to communism) 
What the Europeans did read, unfortunately, was a famous book, On War, by Karl Von Clausewitz, a Prussian staff officer who encouraged “blood.” 

Westerners, when I was a boy, would have thought I was crazy if, agreeing with Sun Tzu, I tried to say the highest form of generalship is to get the opposing army to surrender without any bloodshed. 

It’s queer to contemplate how—I’m thinking of the US Civil War and the First World War— the westernmost powers might have avoided so many, many sorry casualties if only the husbands and wives, in the U.S. North and among the Allies, had chosen an “anaconda plan” (as one lonely Union general did in fact advise) of naval blockade and sanctions without fighting. 
(Note: At the end of both the Civil War and WWI, both losing armies were starving—as were, come to think of it, the WWII Japanese armies in the Pacific. Out there, awful things happened. An imperial soldier was ordered to report to the cookhouse without his rice tin: He promptly deserted—he didn’t want to be cannibalized)

But about the only translation, in the west, was by a Jesuit priest long ago. And so matters remained, even when I was a boy. 

Then something happened. Today there is a mainstream movie, starring Wesley Snipes, called Art of War, and the business section of a bookstore stocks Sun Zu’s classic as surely as it stocks books about samurai businessmen (‘swords’ and ‘rings’)… such books as would never have sold during my boyhood, by the way. Not back when “made in Japan” meant poor quality. 
(As in Back to the Future where the 1950’s professor says something (I forget) like, ‘No wonder your time machine broke down, Marty, this part is made in Japan.’ 
One of my friction cars from Christmas, when I was a boy, was from a tin can showing fruit and Japanese writing within, but turned inside out and painted like an automobile)

Over in the social studies area of the local big box store, one evening last April, while I don’t remember if I specifically counted the actual number of translators, I know I counted eleven different editions of the work. Well! The western world has sure heard of it now! 

What happened was classic: One man made a difference. Someday I will read again James Clavell’s desperate forward to the first modern Art of War. I would have read it at a community college around 1981-ish. (Wikipedia has the date wrong) First Clavell began having various characters, in his various best selling “Asian novels,” mention the book. And he worked on a translation. Then he had to persuade an otherwise sane editor that a book ostensibly about warfare, about long dead guys with bows and armor, would sell enough copies to break even. The rest is history. The irony, to me, as I looked in vain, was that not one of those eleven editions I found that April evening was the first one with the introduction by James Clavell. How sad. He knew Chinese communism, and he had seen close up what happened to Japan in defeat, and so he desperately told how important national survival is, and how the book of Sun Tzu could help. Poor Prometheus!

Never mind the bows and armoured horses. What makes Sun Tzu’s (Sunzi’s) work suitable for the business section, and other parts of the bookstore too, is, as James Trapp puts it: “…the elegance of the prose and the underlying Daoist principles.” 

James Trapp has crafted an elegant translation, a much more humane one than the old standard translation on my shelf. Yes, plainly there is room in the world for a translation as clear and lyrical as this one. 

I think I would like to meet Trapp, with his interesting artistic past, a past that must have fed his soul, not just his bank account. His specialties include Bronze Age art and early Buddhist sculpture. Today he works part-time at the British Museum, and also as a consultant to the UK school system for integrating China studies. 

Dipping into the piece before me, I like Trapp’s choice of footnotes, useful yet concise. In a footnote to page one of the final chapter, Using Spies, Trapp writes, “Sunzi’s understanding of the necessity of an effective intelligence network, its efficient organization and the various levels of expendability of its agents is chillingly calculating…and modern.” 

James Trapp’s introduction ends, “In the eyes of Sunzi a general is no mere jobbing soldier: he is a scholar, gentleman and philosopher. The depth of meaning which this element of mysticism imparts is undoubtedly responsible for the work’s continuing and universal appeal.”

Now I contemplate citizenship; I cherish the responsible competence of James, James and Sun Tzu… And I truly appreciate the beauty of the work of art before me. 


Art and Music Of Japan and Germany
As for Asians knowing The Art of War, tonight I was watching the Japanese animated (anime) series Ghost in the Shell, (2nd Gig) dubbed with English subtitles. In one episode the major shows up at a den, with luxurious furniture, of three wealthy old criminals. She is there to retrieve something stolen. Three angry young hoodlums are there too. One of the old men asks the major, “Are you the same race as Roh?” 
She answers, “Can’t you tell?” Meaning: Yes, the major has a full prosthetic body. So formidable! 

The major backs away with her prize and the hoodlums want to chase after her. The old man forbids them, and quotes Sun Zu: When you know your enemy and you know yourself (voice over as the major flees into a taxi) you can fight a hundred battles without defeat.” The implication being: The hoods can’t know how powerful the major’s prosthetics are.

Beauty onscreen: 
Did you ever see the 1980’s German art-house movie, with Peter Falk as a human, filmed in black and white, called Wings of Desire, about invisible angels on the roofs of East and West Berlin? In the very next episode of Ghost In the Shell, Battou is in Berlin, on stakeout on the roofs, near the major, using his invisibility thing—but a girl in a wheelchair can look up and see him. In homage, the TV episode was given the movie title. I thought the whole episode, with an angel motif, was well done. 

The Americans once attempted a remake of the German movie, for mainstream audiences, starring Nicolas Cage and Meg Ryan: Film critic Roger Ebert wrote, “But it's not really a remake. It's more of a formula story that benefits from some of Wenders' imagery (solitary angels standing in high places, solemnly regarding humanity) and his central story idea…”

At least the remake was better than the live action remake, (2 stars) staring Scarlet Johansen, of the anime feature movie (3 stars) Ghost in the Shell.

I like the artful words of Roger Ebert, a pulitzer prize winner, as he reviews Wings of Desire. “The film evokes a mood of reverie, elegy and meditation. It doesn’t rush headlong into plot, but has the patience of its angels. It suggests what it would be like to see everything but not participate in it…. For me, the film is like music or a landscape: It clears a space in my mind, and in that space I can consider questions… ”

Review of the Peter Falk movie (4 stars)

Review of the Nicolas Cage movie (3 stars)

Music: 
The Japanese, once fascist, now welcome the world. Here the incomparable Origa sings in Russian, graced with Latin, over graphics for the TV opening of the Ghost in the Shell series. 

Here Origa sings in half Russian, half English, a song of determination, over the opening of the second series—anime truly not intended for the “Saturday morning cartoons” of children, nor for adults on their couches wanting a relaxed evening cartoon sitcom.

I like how the joy of music, like a thirst for peace, is worldwide. In Japan, here is a choir like in Bulgaria, and instruments like in my local philharmonic. For 18 minutes of something completely different, a Japanese symphony plays music of the original Ghost in the Shell movie. (which I still haven’t seen) 

I’m no passive angel up high, I walk down in the world, a world where a sadder, now wiser German said, “All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”

This week, I see beauty. 

Last week, I looked at the ugly Chinese leaders being un-truthful, with their agents operating secretly in dirty shadows in Canada. 

This day, my eyes are clear… in my own words, after John Keats, 
Truth is beauty, and beauty is truth. And that’s all we know, or need to know.



Sean Crawford
Alberta,
May, 
2020 

Footnotes: 

~“Remember Taiwan.” Here’s what the various liberal party Members of Parliament don’t want you to see. “Speak truth to power.” 

~Are you still thinking of last week’s post? I am. You know what? The Chinese can keep their thought police. It’s time to recognize Taiwan.

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

Warm Fuzzy Comments

Hello Reader,
Got warm fuzzy comment?


Just as modern readers may enjoy a two page “flash fiction” as much as a normal short story, so too may I offer a careful web comment as if it were a “flash essay.” Hence my best writing is often my comments on other people’s blogs. Queerly, I never make copies for myself as souvenirs, instead, I let all my darlings rush away like sparkling salmon in the stream.

Recently another-commenter replied to my comment. This time with a difference: He took my words and made a poem!

The blog was by novelist John Scalzi, called Whatever. Scalzi’s post was entitled Behold My Drinks Fridge (August 29, 2019) It included a photograph of his second refrigerator being turned into a “beer cooler.” There were—get this—scores and scores of comments in the thread. My first comment is below. My second comment was a short one: “As of Saturday midmorning…” and then just before I hit the “post” button, I hit the “return” key to add:
“Strange: Nobody’s written a poem yet.”

As for ‘no poem,’ a couple comments later were my own words, sent back to me:

QUOTE
Kevin McLeod Bailey says:
Sean:
Are you sure?

As of
Saturday midmorning
I count
125 comments
about
a humble refrigerator

With all
due respect to world peace
sometimes
the simple pleasures
are what
we talk about.

UNQUOTE

Now, that’s a warm fuzzy.

Say, dear reader, as salmon swim away in the stream, in case you’re curious, my first comment was: 
QUOTE
Nostalgia: Only a few years ago, as a tourist, I visited a regional dump serving three towns, it was just like the dump of my childhood (In the city we use garbage cans) Chatting with the old gate shack guy, he explained that a fellow comes around with a rod to suck out the (R-14?) from all the refrigerators, as an environmental thing, protecting the ozone layer.

In my own big city dump, the young guy at the gate won’t let you in unless your vehicle has a load to drop off. Those are his orders.

As for refrigerators, sometimes, like Philip K. Dick reaching for a light bulb string that isn’t there, I wait for my refrigerator to go click when I close the door. But no, it’s all magnets now. As a boy our fridge had a round plastic handle on the inside, (cool!) so a trapped child could get back out.

Here on the Great Plains, nearly all my city’s streets were laid down after ice boxes were no longer needed. A fellow in my toastmasters club did a speech explaining the new fangled technology behind his modern “beer cooler.”

UNQUOTE


EPILOGUE 
Regarding comments being read, and being Noticed:
Recently (September 2019) I sent an e-mail to a world famous blogger, Derek Sivers.

You may wonder: 
If Derek gets hundreds of comments for most of his posts, (sometimes six or seven hundred) 
then is there any use in commenting? Would he ever notice little-old-me or you?

Sure he would. I e-mailed Derek, to warn that his mass mail out wasn’t reaching everyone. Part of his reply included:
“…Good to hear from you. Thanks again for your comments on the blog. I see and appreciate them all. :-)”

I guess the overall lesson for today’s post, coming from a poet-commenter and a big blogger, is that everything we do gets noticed, at some level. 


Sean Crawford
On the romantic rolling prairie,
September 2019,
Posted April 2020

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Social Media Silver Lining


Hello Reader,
Got a silver lining to the covid-19 social media?


I was amused by the failure of nerve by the National Post. One full-page spread after another—and it went on for quite a few pages—had blue headlines at the top. Labeled Myth on the left page, and Fact on the right. This was a needed public service, but… —my mirth was from the National Post not daring to have the left side headline as Social Media Myth.

Because let’s face it, when someone tells you a myth, in person or on the telephone, they nearly always got it from social media. “My uncle Tom knows a guy, who knows a guy, who forwarded onto social media something he interpreted from the Web.” Misinterpreted, that is.

Who are these social media forwarders and believers? As it happens, I subscribe to a weekly email from famous blogger Mark Manson. On Monday he posted about how he published two nearly identical posts, exactly one week apart. The first one was well received. The later one resulted in all sorts of hysterical hatred and scorn. Why the difference? Manson has several theories, which might be phrased, in composite, as this: The Internet users were the sort of idiots who were slow to wake up to the virus that was already being reported on responsible channels. Here’s the link to Manson’s scathing “3. A tale of two emails.”.

Idiots, indeed. Over in South Korea some folks passed around a water bottle laced with household ingredients that would make it virus proof. In fact, they all got covid-19 from the same bottle. Did they get the idea of a safe water from social media? I don’t know, but such is the sort of thinking I would expect from social media lovers. Call it “being innocent of the need for common sense critical thinking.” Or call it stupidity.

Recently an acquaintance earnestly told me, over the phone, about something important she had just learned from social media. About how having a drink every 15 minutes would make you safe from the corona virus. You ask: Did I pour cold water on the idea? To my acquaintance, who maybe doesn’t have a high school diploma, did I talk down sternly from my mighty university degree in critical thinking? No-o-o.

Because a few years ago I did a thought experiment: Consider two young men. One fellow, full of idealism for saving the planet, has a non-union low-wage factory job. The other, even lower waged, and with less idealism, is employed at the local campus as a graduate student and teaching assistant. Which one saves the planet by using a ten-speed bicycle? I picture the bike rider as being the grad student, I bet you did too.

To me the difference between the two is not not knowledge of ecology, and not I.Q, but “knowledge” nevertheless, in the sense that “knowledge is power.” We all want a sense of power, of agency, and of control over our lives. "If I don’t feel power from knowledge then I’ll seek power from a fine set of wheels." Feel free to disagree, as I suppose I’m oversimplifying. Meanwhile, “they say” the panic buyers who valued toilet paper over the conventional “food and ammunition,” besides being too scared to think straight, were seeking a small sense of control in the midst of chaos. 

It seems to me that a person who has trouble with, say, science articles, or those traditional newspapers with “journalism ethics,” is going to fight against that nervous tornado of facts-hard-to-grasp by resorting to “power from social media.” And that’s why I didn’t have the heart to squelch my friend directly, but instead indirectly referred to my faith in fact-based journalism.

So where are we today? 

With all the distasteful tales whizzing around within social media, with many horrible lies needing long articles to refute them, with horrors needing a doctor on CBC radio to refute many myths at length, is there also, during this dark storm cloud, a sliver lining? As compensation, dare we hope? Has humankind, at long last, learned not to believe in social media? …

Nope. No silver lining. Not as long as people’s needs are not met by traditional media.

The good news, judging by the wimping out of the National Post, is that readers of social media can overlap with readers of ethical media. Maybe the readers of social media are both unknowing, and knowing too. In which case social media is more something to be ignored and kept in perspective, than something seen as a harbinger of social decent into barbarism. And maybe those of us with a sense of responsibility are just going to have to quietly live with the believers of social media. Like how during the blogging frenzy—remember?—folks with library cards (as noted by Neal Stephenson) were ignored by our new improved digital society, and in turn they ignored society’s practise of dull skimming and superficial soundbites, preferring instead to just quietly kept meeting with each other to have those deep conversations they loved, which society ignored. 

How many years did it take, in the time of our great-grandparents, to know that not all stuff in print is true? I think it will take us, in our own time, just as many years before we finally will say, “Just because my stupid brother-in-law forwarded it, does not mean it is true.” May God grant me patience and understanding.

If someone blindly believes in social media, or blindly distrusts journalism ethics, then it might help me to “chill out” if I remember: Some people—judging by their actions—also believe in gossip that morphs, instead of honest unchanging facts; some people won’t make the effort needed for ethics, any more than they will strive to become ladies or gentlemen. In the end, some people will make my blond aunt very nervous because they forward without forethought.. All this while peach fuzzed cub reporters are proud to be “gentlemen of the press.”

It’s been decades since I walked as a volunteer student newspaper reporter at university, yet I still check myself when I speak or write on the Web. With all due respect to social media folks, being a gentleman has become a way of life.



Sean Crawford
Dutifully stuck at home
In a plaster-walled wee cabin at the old city limits
2020 

Update: The BBC has an article, complete with a picture of the corona, about how to stop bad information from going viral.

Another Update: The government has just started up a rapid response unit. Sounds serious. Real serious. Is it serious enough to shake people's faith in social media? Not if my thesis in the above essay is correct. Sorry.

Footnotes: 
~What is a lady? I used to often say to my client Sheila-Ann, “Everybody likes you.” Gracious, thoughtful of others, never swearing, and ever polite. I noticed: Tough Handi-Bus drivers wearing rough work gloves would become smiling gentlemen around her. Now, that’s a lady.

~I documented fake news being a communist plot—er, I mean, a Russian plot, in the Part 2, Pax, to my essay Russian Trolls Meet Social Media archived December 2019.

~Three comprehensive posts defining three aspects of journalism ethics are archived in March and April of 2018.

~Of course the frenzied folks who skim sound-bites won’t have the patience to go over to my archives, and that’s OK. Better for them to stay away completely than to click an all-to-easy-link to a post intended for patient lovers of print.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Differing Abstractions


“Canadians all live in igloos”
Some dude in Texas

Regarding their mayor:
“They kept reelecting him because he was grandfatherly and worked hard to help individuals and families who were having trouble. They didn’t care much whether he also set good policies—that was too abstract for them.”
Xenocide, by Orson Scott Card, 1991, p 238


Hello Reader,
Got differing abstractions?

Introduction
I hadn’t planned to continue last week’s theme of middle class guilt. My current blog post, right up until today’s posting, begins:
QUOTE
I am writing this … under the spell of Audre Lorde, a member of several minority groups: Black, and a woman too, “but a traitor” with a nonBlack partner, raising children, but “without a  family values marriage,” lesbian, and speaker of truth to hands-on-ears fellow feminists… 
UNQUOTE

Differing
Trust us writers to care about the nitty gritty of sentences. So there I was, only three days after posting the above, still under the spell, among about a dozen writers, at a big long table, studying sentences, and I spoke of U.S. Blacks, and—I was corrected and told that now we say Persons of Colour. This was in Canada. You may wonder: Did Canadians genuinely ponder and decide to change names, or is this a case of swift Yankee imperialism? (Because hey, you’ve got to admit such things happen)

You ask: What did I think of being corrected?
I answer: I think it’s time to talk about levels of abstraction. But don’t worry, I’ll get back to Audre and me.

Here’s how I explain two words: I could say, “Gee, I better stop procrastinating.” Or I could say, “Well, I better get to my work.” The former is sentence is more “abstract,” the latter more “concrete.” By concrete I mean you can see it, like cement, and measure it, like with a ruler, and beholders can agree, “Yep, there’s Sean, working at his table saw.” But if you entered my man cave and saw me silent in my easy chair, the eyes of the beholder wouldn’t agree on whether I was procrastinating, or hard at work dreaming up some new poem about the Martian invasion. When it comes to something abstract like labels for people, there can be a whole lot of opinions going on. 

Abstractions have power. Are people “developing” the land or “exploiting” it? Both words are easy to argue about, as both are abstract.

How many races do you count? On the prairies, or great plains, the first nations medicine wheel abstracts four: black, white, yellow, red. 

Black or Person of Colour? Again, abstract. A member of the Mongolian race, or a Person of Colour? A higher abstraction: Here colour means not specifically black, but non-white. When my father was a boy, history text books always started out listing the various races of man. When I myself was a boy, the How and Why Book of Primitive Man began by saying scientists don’t like to say the word race. 
(With race being not so much concretely found in nature as being abstract concept we make up. Hence laymen in Europe, when Dad was a boy, as documented in brown paged books in the campus library, would say that folks on two sides of a river were two different races. I bear no ill-will to 1930-Edmonton scientists or 2010-Saskatchewan indigenous elders. They both abstracted as best they could)

That would have been about the time the term Mongolian was dropped—should I now say East Asian, Oriental, or just what?—and when, for folks with a specific disability, the term Mongoloid, with its racial implication, was replaced, on our side of the pond, with Down Syndrome. 

If people argue about abstract single words, then they can get even more heated about abstract logic chains. I can remember when a Marxist study group, meeting down in the basement, would learn a set of steps to a conclusion for good comrades, but by the time the idealists got up onto the streets, among the rest of us, they would be forgetful about the abstract steps, and go right to the Politically Correct conclusion. It was when the rest of us were puzzling over the half-missing steps that leftists felt the need to be especially strident and shaming by saying, “Trust me, that’s not PC!” Well. Human nature means that we will calmly discuss the value of cement versus concrete, while our fiercest arguments will be over fuzzy abstract things like religion, politics and PC.

Fun with abstract scenarios
If I am at a big long table with a dozen folks—not writers but my buddies who play World of Warcraft—and I want to talk about Yankee imperialism by certain Texas Yankees, then my peers might get their Star Trek shirts in a twist: “What if a U.S. citizen was spying on us from Texas using a super-telescope and heard you calling him a Yankee? He would be offended because the Texans fought on the side of the Confederacy, Rebels against Yanks, for the U.S. civil war, so shame on you, for not being PC.”

Same table: One of my male ice hockey buddies, being a little more realistic, might use a few of those few English words that help us to phrase an imaginary state, words known as the “subjunctive,” words such as were, would or could. He might say, “What if a Texan were in this room and what if he would hear you talking about imperialism… and so you shouldn’t say such things, even if, as I must admit, no Texan is present.” 

Next to speak up is my hockey buddy with a sense of humour: “What if a Yankee—I mean a Texan—was just outside the window on his hands and knees in the shrubbery, so we couldn’t see him, but he heard us, and then stood up and yelled in the window?”

Now, I just have to chuckle, and get into the game too, making things four sided. “Well buddy, suppose I had my own telescope to Texas, and so I called them long distance while they were talking. One of them goes over to the land line and says, “Hey you guys, the call display says Canada… Hello?”
“I just heard you people saying some falsehoods about Canada, some myths, shame on you, for no, we do not all live in igloos! You’re not being PC!” …Somehow, I doubt stereotypical Texans care much about PC, not these days. 
(I remember the scandal when new Texas vehicle license plates came out that said, “The friendly state.” Texas changed that in a hurry! At the time, my roommate from Kansas opined that Texans just like to bug the rest of the union—and I can blab that, because I’m in Canada)

At this point, as we are each getting into our differing private abstractions, if any of my buddies claims to have The Truth and be the centre of world, then I have to gently remind him, “Excuse me, an Ugly American would act that way, too.” (By the way, it was secret agent Matt Helm, settled in Santa Fe, who noted: No self-respecting New Mexican wants to be caught sounding like a Texan—and yes, I know I shouldn’t report that on a Canadian blog)

Obviously, talking about labels and “what if” will always sound a little crazy. My buddy says with a tense jaw: “We label jars not people; you must say ‘a person with a gimpy leg,’ not a gimp; say ‘a person of the Jewish persuasion…’”

More private abstractions
One of my thinking tools is the abstraction of Political Correctness. 

According to PC, —I could be wrong— isn’t there is a PC sound barrier, not to be broken, between us and Yankee-land? And doesn’t PC include the concept that if you talk about others then you are “speaking for” them? We would say of a Canadian woman holding two Ph.D’s in “American Studies”, that if she travels below the 49th parallel, she knows less than a high school drop out, at least about certain things in “real” American life, and so if she travels down to the States then she shouldn’t “speak for” Americans. I guess it logically follows: PC-wise, I can’t rush across the border and vent my spleen at some Texans I hear mentioning igloos, either.

At the same time, in the name of Political Correctness, the Americans have no right to complain as my professor talks, when up here, among us fellow-Canadians, about “those” imperializing Americans, no, not even if she accidentally tells us some myths about Yankees. 
(Of course she would document and footnote and quote U.S. citizens in good faith, like me quoting Matt Helm, of course)

Maybe I feel a blazing social warrior leftist temptation to drive to Montana and shout “Power to the 99 per cent!” … Still, I have to let U.S. citizens seek their own salvation. Or at least, not shout, but talk nicely to those Yankee salt of the earth folks politely, talking with them, not at them. Maybe mail them some footnotes, if asked. 

It was an apologist for communism, self-described “Chinese” writer Han Suyin, who said, “Revolution must be neither exported nor imported.” Yes. My citizenship papers are stamped Canada, not U.S. of A, so I’ll cackle whatever crazy thing I want to “among us chickens, up here, about them eagles, down there.” My latest theory is that the U.S. public enables their Yankee Imperialism by holding on to an ignorant plausible deniability. “What? Us? Imperialize? We’re so innocent!” Yeah, you just go on saying that.

A wide eyed peer might earnestly ask me, “Yes, but what if an eavesdropper was innocently out of sight below the window?” 
(I suppose this is getting away from the abstract into the actual concrete examples)

Easy: If it was me I would stand up, walk around the building and enter through the proper door. I would go to the room by the window and wait to be invited to join in. And then I would not hijack the conversation, but wait until it was appropriate to swing the conversation around to igloos. As a Muslim said to me in London, humbling and politely and without any hijacking, “If you want to know anything about Muslims then you can just ask me, for I’m Muslim.” At the time we were sharing a vegetarian, OK-for-Muslims-and-Jews, pizza.

Fun with peers
I wrote about that Muslim man on the jet back from London, for my last visit, just as this time flying home I wrote about Audre Lorde. It was while I was part way through Audre’s book that I met with a man who had moved across the globe to Oxford to raise his boy because it was a “diverse” city. That man was Derek Sivers; we knew each other through his blog, and he bought me a nice breakfast near Saville Row in London.

You may ask: Does the boy call his father a Caucasian? I don’t know, I never asked.
Does the boy know about the various formal races of man, including, “but not limited to,” Caucasian, as found in old textbooks? I doubt it, the boy is only eight. Does he give himself a label? Sure, one he either made up or hears being used by his child peers: He self identifies as brown.

Historians are only half right: We don’t learn from history, but we do learn from our peer groups—too bad they don’t learn from history. They differ in their ability to abstractly see beyond the here and now, just as they vary in their ability to think in term of time and space. Seriously: Have you ever tried to organized a street protest before the deficit has worsened into a dragon? One snorting cutbacks, and breathing fire against government programs? Have folks declined your request to take to the streets early enough to do some good, even though your peers surely know what horrors we went through last time we finally had to kill the deficit? If so, then surely you were viewed as “a crazy minority of one.” Power to the people.

It would be nice if groups were all equal, but no, they aren’t all the same. And that I like, since my different peers can express different aspects of me. Today I see I have mentioned peer groups from writing, computers, athletics and, if you include a peer group of just one, a Muslim. It seems to me that fighting within any given peer group, over fuzzy abstractions, words and labels, is like fighting over fashion: Even if I am are “right” I am are apt to walk away feeling somehow foolish. 

(Example: Should we dress for Stampede Days like a cowboy, or like a real cowboy? One could argue. Should my businessman’s trench coat be a real trench coat, complete with a wee loop for my pistol lanyard? And yes, on Saville Row they do indeed sell such coats. A young British businessman, sent to work in Italy, found that all his peers wore coats without epaulets, so he felt compelled to go back to his hotel and cut off all the epaulets on his coats. Now, before you would make a face in scorn, I would advise a pause… sometimes we really need our sense of "humour and compassion" for a poor lad craving a peer group) 

Specific words
The most Positively Correct peers for me have been the ones who will like me and buy me a beer.  If they go from properly saying cellular telephones to crudely saying cell phones, then me too. The worst peers share my hot ideals but lack a sense of proportion: No "humour and compassion." For them, as they grate on me, I will reach for the lubricant of humour, and alcohol too.

If you, dear reader, want me to say Person of Colour, then all you have do is say that word around me, like my peers saying “cell phone.” But that begs me to ask the question: Up here in Canada, when would you ever say P of C in real life? It could mean that, in order for you to change my everyday language, then, in your own everyday life, instead of talking about the the weather and such trivia, you would need to speak of what you were doing around racism. Yes, I sympathize; it’s hard to take action, and then it’s hard to share from your heart. But if I keep naturally hearing Person of Colour then I’ll naturally start saying the term too. Like how even bigots have exchanged the horribly stigmatized word homosexual for a nice, pretty, new improved one, gay.

Right now, from dear Audre, I keep hearing the word Black… God bless her.

Sean Crawford
In her majesty’s dominion of Canada,
(although Dominion Day has been replaced by Canada day)
At the foothills of the Rocky Mountains,
In the sweetest home city in the world,
(although our sibling rivals in Edmonton would say otherwise)
March
2020

Update of Thursday March 12, regarding opportunities to say to others, "Person of Colour."
There are two Person of Colur documentaries are showing in Edmonton on March 19 at the Garneau. About the time the Person of Colour Panther headquarters was being shot up, as noted one post back, innocent Persons of Colour women working in hospitals were facing the National Guard in their quest for a decent wage. Link

Meanwhile, today on CBC, writer Kiley Reid was interviewed for her book about the Persons of Colour situation called Such a Fun Age. I tuned in at the part where a middle class white woman felt safe that her husband would have no sexual desire for a domestic worker because she was a Person of Colour. 

Reid, a self described as "light-skinned (I forget if there was another word too)" reminded those of us privileged to live in the developed British Commonwealth, including, "but not limited to," Canada and the United Kingdom, how it had warped her life, diverted her employment choices, to live in the only developed country in the world without national healthcare. 

Footnotes:
~I Met a Muslim in London is archived September 2017
~Guilt and Toronto, with Audre Lorde, is archived last week, in March 2020. You might be interested in the essay for Lorde’s definition of racism.
~In Commenters and My Responsibility archived May 2018, I quoted Derek Sivers, who moved to Oxford, at length in my essay, His words in the footnotes are in yellow; his words about the financial costs of unclear writing are in the main essay, in a slightly larger typeface, with some bolding.  
~Call me an artist, but this post was written in the subjunctive imagined world; while in the real world I lack a table saw, man cave and certain peers.

Amusing (and tragic) difference in abstracting the definition of racist:
While normally I would retro-change the words "Negro" or "Black" to Person of Colour, the humour below doesn't work as well unless I report the "dialogue" accurately.

As our leftist friends know, every man, woman and child in Canada is racist because we soak it up from our culture. As least most of us aren't as bad as the TV bigot Archie Bunker, although he could at least have Persons of Colour, the Jeffersons, over to visit him and Edith, or have his son-in-law's Person of Colour friend Lionel come over. All in the Family was the first post-colour TV show filmed (videotaped) before a live studio audience.

 The "and tragic" part of my amusing memory is how my roommate, who divided his time between Canada and the States, driving a sports car down to California, had a definition of racist that differed from our leftist friends—Actually, I guess he spent more time down south than here, since he thought "minus four degrees centigrade" was cold.

I was renting the upper half of a duplex, while down below lived a Malaysian couple who were soon moving out. So they gifted me with a plastic silver platter covered in food and supplies. I remember one gift was a white container of Johnson's baby powder, only the blue writing was in Malaysian, not English.
 So there I was, coming up the stairs and cackling like a witch. Seriously, I was cackling. My roommate was at the top of stairs. "What I like about me," I laughed "is I'm not a racist. Look at all this cool stuff I just got."
The guy exploded, "Sean, of course you're not a racist! You're living with a Black man!"