Summer Reading

Among my goals for the summertime is to read and finish several books. In no particular order, here are the ones I most want to tackle:

1. How Will You Measure Your Life? by Clay Christensen et al. A book on principles of success in business, ethics, and life from a highly regarded Harvard Business School lecturer.
2. The Art of Strategy by Avinash Dixit and Barry Nalebuff. Game Theory in real life.
3. Britain BC by Francis Pryor. An expert surveys what we know about ancient Britain and Ireland.
4. Sublime Dreams of Living Machines by Minsoo Kang. A scholarly account of the automaton in the Western imagination.
5. The Information by James Gleick. The story of Information Theory.
6. Good and Real by Gary Drescher. Reconciling a mechanical view of the world with observations and issues in physics, ethics, and more. 
7. The Obligation toward the Difficult Whole by Brian McHale. A former instructor of mine on postmodernist long poems.
8. Morte d'Arthur by Thomas Malory. King Arthur's life, court, and death.
9. Paterson by William Carlos Williams. A book-length poem on Paterson, New Jersey.
10. Retrieving the Ancients: An Introduction to Greek Philosophy by David Roochnik. More than just Plato and Aristotle.

To a Student in My Composition and Rhetoric Class (Introduction to Literature)

Dear Student,

I was very happy you recently emailed me about a research essay topic you want to pursue. That you felt strongly enough to ask a question is gratifying. You wouldn't know this, but I begin every semester hoping that students find plays, poems, and stories that move them profoundly, or at least profoundly enough to ask such questions as you have.

Unfortunately, after fifteen weeks of class this term, you alone have fulfilled this hope. Your classmates, though nice people and smart enough, have rarely shown the desire or self-motivation to vigorously explore the literary texts in our course. They have read, or skimmed. They have glibly opined. They have written papers. However, I feel they have not been taken by any of our texts. They were unimpressed by Hamlet's grief and by how severely he reckoned every possible course of action. They eschewed, or seemed to, the lonely and noble reflection of Jane Kenyon's "Let Evening Come." They saw no kinship between themselves and proud Sylvia in Toni Cade Bambara's "The Lesson." 

It takes passion to read anything, but especially drama, poetry, and fiction. It takes conviction to write, but especially to write an academic essay. What I have really been trying to tell and teach all of you is to be passionate, assertive, bold, and confident. If you can muster these attitudes for a class, you can muster them in your life. As much as any knowledge, skill, or wisdom that you take from school, these attitudes will serve you well in life and carry you far.

But there is more than utility to these attitudes. They have more value than getting you a job and helping you succeed in a career. No, these attitudes are the formula of emotional depth and perspective. The happiness literature offers is understanding happiness. From our best writing we learn that happiness is complex, fleeting, easily unrecognized, and surprisingly connected to outlook and effort. And the wisdom literature offers is that of adventure, for the worlds created in literature lead out to reality and to knowledge that spans centuries of human endeavor.

Just two examples of the happiness and wisdom I mean, and then I will close. Think on the rich, lasting happiness from the end of Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind":

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened Earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

Shelley describes a happiness greater, if less pure, than a child's. It's a lasting, hopeful happiness. It's the happiness of knowing life continues inexorably. To Shelley, we are instruments of a powerful universe in motion. Such happiness comes from being bound sonically and temperamentally to that universe. We readers, too, joyfully recognize the intertwining rhyme Shelley uses. We see it and connect with him, and his world. We hear the trumpet tones and know this sound calls just as well in our world.

We take from Shelley a wise happiness, a kind of knowledge not found in movies, television, games, or other activities--all of which possess their own wisdom. Yet we talk about wisdom and knowledge as if they were only about having facts and being able to recall them. Consider, then, the wisdom of the speaker in James Baldwin's "Sonny's Blues":

All I know about music is that not many people ever really hear it. And even then, on the rare occasions when something opens within, and the music enters, what we mainly hear, or hear corroborated, are personal, private, vanishing evocations. But the man who creates the music is hearing something else, is dealing with the roar rising from the void and imposing order on it as it hits the air. What is evoked in him, then, is of another order, more terrible because it has no words, and triumphant, too, for that same reason. And his triumph, when he triumphs, is ours. I just watched Sonny's face. His face was troubled, he was working hard, but he wasn't with it. And I had the feeling that, in a way, everyone on the bandstand was waiting for him, both waiting for him and pushing him along. But as I began to watch Creole, I realized that it was Creole who held them all back. He had them on a short rein. Up there, keeping the beat with his whole body, wailing on the fiddle, with his eyes half closed, he was listening to everything, but he was listening to Sonny. He was having a dialogue with Sonny. He wanted Sonny to leave the shoreline and strike out for the deep water. He was Sonny's witness that deep water and drowning were not the same thing -- he had been there, and he knew. And he wanted Sonny to know. He was waiting for Sonny to do the things on the keys which would let Creole know that Sonny was in the water.

The man admits at the outset he is limited in his knowledge about music. Yet, like the improvising musicians he observes and hears, he builds on what he knows and tries to expand it. Baldwin's writing here focuses on hearing and watching--listening to Sonny play and watching him expend effort. Baldwin searches and finds in the music a dialogue between Creole and Sonny, a dialogue that turns into Sonny's musical exodus or perhaps a musical baptism.

This is the wisdom of hearing and observing, yes, but more the wisdom of sharing and connecting. What sings in this prose is how the speaker voices--attempts to articulate on the fly--how he understands Sonny and Creole. He wants to partake of their interplay. He learns by doing and by actively being.

The happiness and wisdom of literature are unfathomably rich. My student, I wanted you and all your classmates to learn this. Excepting you alone, I failed this semester. I failed because your classmates did not want to be reached and did not think it was worth their energy. I failed because I was not focused or skilled or apt enough to overcome their extraordinary apathy and complacence.

I will retire as a college teacher at the end of this semester. I cannot foresee teaching an Introduction to Literature course again. After 17 years of teaching, I have lost the drive to lead any more classes on the perilous journey through the language and stories of the past, and through the struggle of writing now. I have ceased to be an effective teacher, if ever I was one.

My student, your letter is a comfort to me as I depart. As you go your own way in life, I hope some of what we have read this term stays with you and grows with you. I bid you, as Tennyson's "Ulysses," to seek newer worlds beyond the sunset. That is my intent. Perhaps we will meet again.

Larry Tanner, a teacher

Dear Believers: Embrace Your Doubts

No gurus.

You like your religious beliefs and your religion. You like the stories--most of them, anyway--in the holy texts. You admire the central characters. You enjoy hearing and singing the devotional songs. You have a nice time at your place of worship, and the people there are very nice. You relate to them. You know the clergyman is pretty smart. He explains so clearly where the religious doctrines come from, and how they apply to the live we lead today. It is amazing, that the wisdom of old can resonate with each one of us. What's more, the sayings and the stories apply differently to such a variety of situations.

But you also have doubts. You pray, and you believe, but you have a twinge. How is God actually working in your life, how does that happen? When you look at your life, at the day by day of it, at the way the world works, how is it that God is so absent?

You have doubts. You wonder whether the religion's doctrines on gods and heaven and sins...are wrong. Maybe God didn't send Joseph down to Egypt or speak to Israel at Sinai or grant them victory over Jericho. Maybe Jesus wasn't the Son of God or the savior of humanity's sins or the conqueror of death. Maybe Mohammed wasn't a prophet. Maybe Joseph Smith made a mistake. Maybe Paul of Tarsus was a zealot. Maybe L. Ron Hubbard was only kidding. Maybe Mary was a regular mother.

My message to you, believers, is to embrace your doubts. I am not saying you should become an agnostic or an atheist. I am not saying to doubt everything or to believe everything. That's not at all what I want. Instead, I want for you to accept that it is right and good to have doubts. It is right and good to explore them, to understand them, to seek answers to them from various sources.  It's not a bad thing to enjoy doubt because doubt helps you to look for more information, and the more you look the more you will see.

I'm saying it's OK that your religion does not have all the answers, and I'm saying that your life is fine. Life can be a struggle. It can be unfair. It can be maddening. It can be lonely. It can be scary. Your life has all sorts of stresses, setbacks, and sonofabitches.

But your life also has greatness. It has you, first of all. You're pretty neat. It has a sun, a sky, and stars. It has the most amazing animal and plants all around. It has color, sound, and texture. It has friendly people, wacky people, kind people, generous people, smart people, and super people. Your life has its own story and possibilities. Your life has love, laughter, interest, music, value, potential, significance, and consequence. It has all these things, just by virtue that you are here.

Embrace your doubts. Don't think that doubts are bad or shameful. Don't be afraid or embarrassed about them. Don't ignore them, but explore them.

Investigate your unbelief as much as you have investigated your belief. Give yourself permission to follow every question.

Dear believers, this is my message. What is yours?

Birthday Lesson: All In

For the past two years I have used my birthday to reflect on life lessons. I have no lessons this time. My 42nd year was trying in a number of ways. That's not to say it was a bad year or a troubling year, but I was very busy and often stressed. Although many great things happened this year, I can't say I fully enjoyed myself as much and as often as I should have.

I know the reasons for this. I have taken on too many activities and responsibilities. I have divided my thoughts and emotions into excessively small portions. It may not be that I'm doing too much but rather that when I do anything I need to be more present and engaged.

So, there is a lesson: full immersion; all in. Here's to being there in my 43rd year.

Leftovers

I have pre-scheduled two posts for the end of the year, so this is probably the last post I will write and publish in 2011. At work, I am winding down for the year and have vacation coming up in less than two hours.

Notes and thoughts:

• I never got around to finishing my thoughts on moral relativism, as I'd said I would. I tried writing up something earlier in the week, but I had trouble organizing the thing. Basically, I couldn't see how one could finally make the idea of an objective moral fact stick. When I think of objective, I think of something like nature: nature exists independently, whether people exist or not. Information, I have recently come to understand, can also be said to exist independently from people. I don't see how anything like a moral fact can exist independently of people, and if it cannot exist apart from us I don't see how it can be called anything but subjective. I also don't see why subjectivity is such a big negative for some folks. But maybe my little mind has just reached the end of its capacity. I'm willing to be educated if someone has an argument to make.
• My vacation plans include lots of reading. I am especially looking forward to three books: The Idiot, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky; Rameau's Nephew, by Denis Diderot; and In the Valley of the Shadow, by James Kugel.
• I marvel at what a tumultuous year 2011 has been. When I was younger, the years seemed more like adventures. I felt as though I had time to absorb the things that were happening in and around me. Now, life seems too eventful, too fast. I would prefer a slower, less eventful year in 2012 (I think!).
• My "best of" post on December 31 will announce this also, but I plan to scale back my posting activity dramatically in 2012. Not only because of what I write above, but also because I have a dissertation to complete. I'll be 42 years old next year, and I have some new horizons to travel toward, so I want to finish up the one big project (i.e., the doctorate) that consumed my thoughts from early adulthood.
• On the other hand, I have ideas for new series and new directions for this blog. Stay tuned....
• I am excited to go with my older brother to see the New England Patriots play the Buffalo Bills on January 1.

The last two posts of the years will be short of extended, original content. They will be review and link pieces. Let me use this space, therefore, to wish you and the world the very best of this time. If you are vacationing or visiting family, be safe, be peaceful, be happy and joyous, be helpful, be smart, be free, be honest, be yourself, and be strong.

I Send Email

Today, I made a bit of a break with my local rabbi:

Hi Rabbi Z.,

[My wife] tells me that you left a message on our voice mail recently. I have a moment now to drop a note, so I want to thank you for your call. Unfortunately, I must pass along my regrets, as I'll be unable to attend the Shavuos party this week. Certainly, my schedule is hectic, as usual. And certainly my family and I have our hands full with [my son's] autism.

But there's something else, and that is that I'm less inclined these days to participate in religious activities because I've abandoned the idea of gods altogether. I won't bore you with the full story of this transformation in my thinking. Basically, the research I did for [Rabbi S.] three years ago opened my eyes to arguments and information (some new, some old) that led me to put away the pretenses of gods, favored peoples, angels and demons, afterlife, and so on. I say all this not to offend, shock, or disappoint. Neither am I interested in debating the topic or discussing it further. My purpose in sharing this information with you is so that you can understand why I am focusing my energies in other directions.

Nevertheless, I still have the same high level of personal affection for you and your family. [My wife] and the kids enjoy seeing everyone. We'll be by in the future as we can. In other respects, however, I am gone and not coming back.

Best,

Larry

Teachers Deserve Competitive Salaries and Benefits

From 1995 through 2002, I taught over two dozen college classes in English. Most of my experience was in introductory composition, but I also taught short-fiction, business writing, and linguistics (my favorite).

I left teaching in 2002 for a non-academic position after a year of adjuncting at a local college and supporting one of the school's programs. In that year, I also worked at another place teaching English as a Second Language to Korean children. Although I taught only a couple of hours per night, the pay rate was significantly higher than the college gig. Neither situation offered benefits. My total annual income was about $28-$32K.

It was a joke, that salary.

After teaching, my first full-time job was $38K per year, plus benefits. I thought at the time that the money was great. What's more, I enjoyed being able to drive from the workplace at the end of the day and not have to continue working into the night. When I taught, I felt mentally and emotionally indentured around the clock with grading, class preparation, conferences, student issues, and school issues.

As I got smarter about the non-academic job market and my own marketability, I moved ahead quickly enough. My salary increases went something like this: 38 -> 41 -> 74 -> 88 -> 95. I pull in low six figures now. I have decent benefits. I work at the office and at home, too, yet I have a semblance of work-life balance.

I recently returned from a trip to my old university, where I had just passed my doctoral candidacy exams. My dissertation director was telling me about how the university was committed to offering at least $50K to new hires in the department. Imagine that, only $50K for a person with a doctorate and a full teaching load.

I left teaching for many reasons. I left academia generally because I didn't see a fast enough path to fair compensation. I wanted to earn what my students would earn. I wanted to have money to buy a home and raise a family. I wanted all of this sooner rather than later.

This is the context from which I read Eggers and Calegari in their NYT piece, "The High Cost of Low Teacher Salaries." Here's the money part (pun intended):

At the moment, the average teacher’s pay is on par with that of a toll taker or bartender. Teachers make 14 percent less than professionals in other occupations that require similar levels of education. In real terms, teachers’ salaries have declined for 30 years. The average starting salary is $39,000; the average ending salary — after 25 years in the profession — is $67,000. This prices teachers out of home ownership in 32 metropolitan areas, and makes raising a family on one salary near impossible.

So how do teachers cope? Sixty-two percent work outside the classroom to make ends meet. For Erik Benner, an award-winning history teacher in Keller, Tex., money has been a constant struggle. He has two children, and for 15 years has been unable to support them on his salary. Every weekday, he goes directly from Trinity Springs Middle School to drive a forklift at Floor and Décor. He works until 11 every night, then gets up and starts all over again. Does this look like “A Plan,” either on the state or federal level?

We’ve been working with public school teachers for 10 years; every spring, we see many of the best teachers leave the profession. They’re mowed down by the long hours, low pay, the lack of support and respect.

I have relatives and friends in the military or on a police force. I respect these professions, but the people in them can be over-the-top with the "respect our sacrifice" lines. Teachers sacrifice every bit as much as soldiers and cops, yet they get no social respect whatsoever.

There's no heroism in a sacrifice you don't make willingly, and so I left teaching as a full-time vocation. Why should I have left money on the table? Why should I have denied myself to a lifestyle similar to that of my peers? Why should I have condemned myself to decades of financial strain? I still teach a literature class at the local college on some mornings, but basically I am out of the profession. Too bad. It's good and important work. I bet lots of our best and brightest would love to teach if the opportunity were made competitive with non-academic positions.

My Goal's Beyond

John Milton, we all know, wrote Paradise Lost "to justify the ways of God to men." My goals in Textuality are slightly more modest than Milton's but exponentially more important: I write to explain my ideas and opinions to my children. I write to my wife, my brothers, my parents, my friends, and to anyone else who may be interested.

How many of us know what our mothers and fathers truly feel and think? How many get the chance to see the world through their eyes and approach ideas the way they do?

My goal for this blog is to make this knowledge and sight available to my loved ones, should they ever want to explore. I want them to know what I think and why. I want them to understand what I think, even if they do not agree with the thoughts. I want them to know that I think. I want them to realize that I am most comfortable writing and considering ideas.

I started Textuality in 2005, following the painful but necessary abandonment (temporary, it now seems) of my dissertation and my aspirations for doctorate in English. At that time, my aims for the blog were to to continue working, informally, in textuality:

This blog has been initiated and inaugurated to serve as a forum on textuality. Specifically, it is intended to support the analysis and understanding of current events, issues, and debates from the standpoint of textuality.

As I understand textuality, it is the quality possessed by a tangible thing of being a text. To proceed further, a text is a tangible thing – such as a piece of paper, a book, a Web page or Internet site, an onstage or onscreen performance, a painting, a sculpture, a building, a location in nature, and so on – that is understood to be or to be comprised of one or more signs. Signs may contain one or more signifying elements, but their referents are conceived of as statements of thought intended to be communicated.

I had hoped to build a site that would become the foremost authority on textuality. In practice, however, I used the blog as a diary. The personal and rather whiny nature of the blog during these early days was one reason (there were others) I took the pseudonym "Larry Tanner," a nickname someone gave me in college. Recently I have flirted with the idea of "coming out" and using my real name, but I already have other blogs under my real name. "Larry Tanner" has become like a separate identity, and I enjoy playing this role. So for now, the pseudonym stays.

Early on in the life of the blog, I seemed to lose interest. In 2006, I posted only one entry, and it was a personal disclosure:

It's almost been one year since I last posted here. Let's see: one child, two marathons, and some marital beauty and ugliness later, now I'm posting again.

I don't know why, exactly, I would even think of coming back. I'm struggling with something. I'm just not satisfied. I'm losing confidence and feel like I'm running out of time.

Hmm ... isn't this kind of what I said last year too?

The post above sounds rather bleak and self-chastising. I do that much less now, for whatever reasons. I remember some of the days of 2006. Our family was strapped for cash, stressed with the new baby, dissatisfied with my workplace, bewildered by my wife's depression, and dealing with my dislike of the wife's new church. We had issues, then, but we also had lots of happiness and love, too. In any case, I suppose my attention was best directed elsewhere than the blog.

Although I posted intermittently in 2007, the great change for Textuality came in 2008. Precipitating the change was my accepting a ghostwriting gig. As I began the gig and the writing involved, I did not foresee any shifts in my personal views but I did sense trouble between my author friend/employer and myself:

In the writing, I am finding a lot of passion and struggle in myself. It's good, I'm learning a lot and swaying between almost complete atheism and firm religious belief. It's interesting. There are just so many great perspectives available online. I am glad that I am able to be swayed. I am not an easy sway, but my openness is partly what makes it all work. Now, it could be that my author is not happy with what I have drafted. If that's the case, then we surely will not be able to work together.

Partly as a result of this gig, I took sides in the larger cultural squabbles concerning atheism and religion. I posted a big admission in November of 2008:

Do I believe in G-d? The answer is no, but it’s not an unequivocal no. It is a no of belief: I do not feel sure enough to have the scales tipped toward faith. I have little confidence that I ever will...and I am OK with this.

The character of my posts changed slowly. Throughout 2008 and into 2009, I was writing reactive stuff: I'd read an article or another blog post and then respond. I don't think I struck upon a clearer identity for Textuality until October 2009, with one post on Bob Dylan and another on the debates of atheists and religious believers.

With these essays, I brought out (at last) my full voice. I sought to make my points personal, original, unambiguous, and unfiltered. I tried to quote liberally and in context. I wanted to work through quotes slowly, patiently, and in detail. I aimed to have posts work as part of a larger, ongoing conversation between myself and the world.

In July of this year, I thought I'd exhausted my thoughts on atheism and religion. I intended to post mostly on Walt Whitman to find other topics of interest. I said then:

I have interests in addition to Atheism that deserve fuller and more sustained expression by me. I want to explore other aspects of this wonderful world, such as the poetry of its people, the conflicts of its nations and civilizations, and the endeavors of its animal inhabitants.

This statement remains true, even if I have not done as much about it (so far) as I might like. Indeed, recently I've been quite focused on topics in and around atheism and religion. Yet I've been generally pleased about the posts on the Kuzari Principle and on ultimate meaning.

One day, I hope to gather maybe 25-50 posts, organize them, and self -publish a book of the best and most enduring posts in Textuality.This book will be for the kids, mainly, not for sale or money. My focus today is on addressing topics that interest me but that also allow me to express ideas and opinions I haven't said before.

I have much, much more to write in this blog--about atheism, religion, family, aging, poetry, jokes, work, politics, and more. I anticipate the days and years ahead. Perhaps a post already written or yet to come will serve as pre-text for one or more face-to-face discussions with my children and/or with my wife.

This is a core element of my thinking: anything I write should have an application in real life. My blog life as "Larry Tanner" is a reflection and premonition of the life where I am interacting with actual human beings in real space-time. I would never want a blog that was all and only "in" the blogosphere.

I expect that if I keep up with Textuality, it will continue to morph. After all, I am still growing as an intellect and as a person, and I have much to explain and share. I cannot say whether the future will be good or bad. I hope it's more of the good, but who knows? The writing is part of what I can do. Textuality is part of my pro-activity.

No One Cares

The universe doesn't care either. Buck up, already.

My mother was in the hospital almost a year ago. To my great disappointment, she received what I felt was unsatisfactory quality of care from what I thought was one of the best health care facilities in the U.S., if not the world. During her hospital stay (and then a stint at a rehabilitation center), my mother was in intense pain, and no one on the hospital staff seemed as dedicated to diagnosing the problem and solving it as I would have liked.

I don't usually watch TV shows like House or Grey's Anatomy, but perhaps I had harbored false preconceptions of doctors as tortured detectives who relentlessly pursue the truth about what's ailing patients and themselves. The reality of doctors, nurses, and patients was uglier and definitely less glamorous than TV medical dramas. The real-life hospital staff was overworked and distracted. They tried to make my mother's discomfort manageable, certainly, but basically wanted her to follow directions and be a good patient while they labored to perform their duties around the ward. 

After a particularly bad visit one evening, I recalled the words from Matthew Arnold's very well-known "Dover Beach":

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

My mother's situation--from which, thankfully, she later recovered fully--illustrates on a small scale the very real circumstances we are discussing when we talk about things like the universe, purpose, and meaning.

In the real world, if we are not looking out for the ones we love then they are at the mercy of people  with other priorities and forces without priorities. For every rainbow here is a devastating volcano blast there. For every deed of sharing and selflessness is one of intense brutality. But for the light we make ourselves, we live in a place that will be dark or light only according to its laws and without any ability even to register indifference to us.

The thesis I want to argue now is that we are fortunate to live in such a universe. It is a good thing for us, in other words, that our universe is blind, pitiless, meaningless, and pointless.

Consider the following quotes:

The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference.

-Richard Dawkins

The great accumulation of understanding as to how the physical world behaves only convinces one that this behavior has a kind of meaninglessness about it.

-Richard Feynman

The more the universe seems comprehensible the more it also seems pointless.

-Steven Weinberg

People often argue that if evolution is true or if scientists such as Weinberg are correct, then the universe is a depressing place and our lives are but jokes. Not so, I say, not so at all.

If evolution is true and Weinberg is correct, then the universe is neutral. It is not for us, but it's not against us either. The natural events of the world happen because of the conditions out of which they emerge, not because we are being praised or punished by an overlooking, intervening moral judge.

The utter neutrality of the universe is liberating. Because the universe, and everything in it, is neutral with respect to us, we are free to make and to find meaning from within ourselves.

With this freedom comes the freedom to revise, re-create, and re-invent meanings. We are empowered to challenge the values of our parents, our mainstream culture, and ourselves.

We can question values, we should do so, and we should absolutely insist on the care and preservation of this power for all people. This power to challenge and to question, in reasoned discourse and in equitable political circumstances, should be inalienable.

If the universe is an instrument of some being's will, then our individual desires are in decidedly worse standing than in the neutral universe. If the universe is part of someone else's plan and subject to someone else's whims and judgments, then we are insignificant even to ourselves.

How did my mother begin to recover? We hired a private nurse to sit with her and to advocate for her before the hospital staff. We visited every day and stayed with her, along with my father. The nurse often stayed overnight. The nurse mediated between us, my mother, and the hospital.

Once we realized that we, like my mother, were among confused alarms, we were able to take simple actions to make things better. Once we accepted that we were ignorantly fighting by night, we focused on solutions that would bring us all better visibility into what was happening.

In the universe of judgment and partiality, we were powerless and immobile. In the neutral universe, we were able to seize our part of the day.

How I Voted Today

The candidates for governor of Massachusetts surround TV host Jon Keller: Charlie Baker, Tim Cahill, Deval Patrick, and Jill Stein.

I like to vote early, and my ballot is officially in. This has been a high-profile and charged political season. I'm glad to see it winding down.

For Massachusetts governor, I chose Deval Patrick (D) over Charlie Baker (R). I think Patrick's become a good manager of the Commonwealth, and I think his priorities are in order. Baker's obviously a very bright guy and would make a competent governor. In the end, I felt that Patrick had done nothing to lose the chance to continue leading, and that Baker had not convinced me either that a change was direly needed or that he was the best agent for it.

The Massachusetts ballot questions are very important this year.

Question 1: Sales Tax on Alcoholic Beverages
Question 2: Comprehensive Permits for Low- or Moderate- Income Housing
Question 3: Sales and Use Tax Rates

I voted yes on Question 1, which means I want to remove the state sales tax on alcoholic beverages and alcohol where their sale or importation into the state is subject to an excise tax under state law.

Question 2 got a vote of no from me. I agree with the "against" position, which states:

This referendum would abolish the primary tool to create affordable housing in Massachusetts without providing any alternatives. Housing in Massachusetts is very expensive. We need to protect the Affordable Housing Law so that seniors and working families can afford to buy homes here. The Affordable Housing Law has created 58,000 homes across the state and is responsible for approximately 80% of new affordable housing over the past decade, outside the larger cities. Repealing this law will mean the loss of badly needed construction jobs. Thousands of homes that have already been approved for development will not be built if this law is repealed. Homes and jobs will be lost, and there will be less affordable housing for seniors and working families. A coalition of hundreds of civic, municipal, business, environmental and religious leaders, including the League of Women Voters and AARP, urge you to vote No.

I voted no on Question 3. Like many others, I feel over-taxed. However, I also appreciate the very many services that my taxes help pay for, such as Early Intervention.

I am pessimistic about how my fellow voters will go on my votes. The governor's race will be close, but I think Baker will be the winner. I predict yes on #1 will win handily. But no on #2 will probably go down, also handily. Question #3 is the really interesting one. I actually think it will be close. I'm inclined to think no on #3 will win out, but I won't be surprised with the opposite result.

I Am Atoned, Bitches!

In a previous episode, I wavered on what would be the most appropriate and happy actions for me to take on Yom Kippur.

Unfortunately, I decided against happiness and good sense:

• I attended some of my local Yom Kippur services. 
• I skipped Kol Nidre, but attended the morning and Musaf services the next day.
• I fasted from before 6:30 pm to about 4:30 pm the next day.
• Up until the time I actually went to services, I considered driving up to the Robert Frost Farm in Derry, NH. I would have really enjoyed that.
• Services were decent.
• I always like to sing.
• The rabbi's stories and jokes were generally good.
• He made, however, one bad evolution joke, the one about monkey's being on the husband's side of the family.
• He also brought in, completely seriously, an Omphalos argument.
• Stories of Jewish martyrs don't inspire me at all but rather point to the seriousness of religious and politically based intolerance.

• If I ever go to another service, it will be with family. I want to be with my wife and kids, my mother and father, my brothers and nieces/nephews.

To Atone or Not to Atone, That Is the Question

[Ron Jeremy doesn't have an answer to my question. Do you?]

This week, falling between the Jewish high holy days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, presents a new question for me: should I drop going to all Jewish services altogether?

I attended Rosh Hashanah services at my local Chabad house. I enjoyed the services. I found them relaxing, and I liked the songs, the singing, and the structure of liturgical events.

However, I found the prayers themselves to be bland. Their words never appeared more irrelevant and uninspiring to me. I also felt detached from the service and from the community. This was not a bad feeling, really, but as I have reflected on it I have come to question whether I'm up to observing Yom Kippur at all.

After all, I don't have to fast. I don't have to spend all day at services. Do I want to do these things? I'm not sure.

I'm not sure.

Thus, I have a question to answer and a decision to make: whether to do Yom Kippur or drop it.

Any advice or thoughts?

Everything Old Is New Again

Back in 2005, when I had started to eat right and exercise, I wrote:

As I go along, I find that nutrition is much more important than I ever imagined. Healthy eating more and more seems to be at the center of a fit life -- and I mean "fit" in a number of senses -- and yet, this fact also seems to be a bit of a secret. It's not the kind of point that's really stressed in advertising, media, entertainment, and so on.

It's funny. We get these fad diets that target one thing (e.g., carbs or fat). We also get pummeled with exercise routines, methods and equipment (e.g., Pilates, Tae Bo, Bowflex). But generally, healthy eating really seems to be more fundamental and important. Maybe it's the fundamentality that keeps it under wraps in our daily lives; it's just not that sexy.

These days, my family has begun a critical change in diet because we notice that we had gone off track. We had gotten in the habit of giving the kids chocolate milk in the morning. We were giving them sugary juices and Popsicles. We were giving them crackers and cookies. Picky eaters all, they weren't eating a lot of vegetables or getting a big variety in their diet. Our kids are pretty active, so they were not and are not fat, but on the other hand, I would not call any of them skinny.

We've changed our ways. I am ready to run a 10K this weekend. And we've started over with the family grocery list, cutting out a lot of the sugar and crackers while adding more vegetables and fruits. I'm really excited about this because I think the benefits will go well beyond nutrition, for all of us.

When I began to eat "clean" I observed that my mood, my energy level, my alertness, and even my resistance to illness--they all improved. Now, perhaps this improvement was to some degree a placebo effect. And I certainly don't want to overstate the claim. Nevertheless, some in the medical community see at least an indirect connection between nutrition and mood. From a blog at the Mayo Clinic we get this:

Omega-3 fatty acids, magnesium, tryptophan, folate and other B vitamins, low glycemic foods, and chocolate have all been studied to assess their impact on mood. The results are mixed but seem to show an association — though not a direct link — between these foods and improved mood.

Of course, these nutrients and foods are part of a healthy diet. And when you eat a healthy diet, your body reaps the benefits. For example, when you eat fruits, starchy vegetables and whole grains throughout the day you keep your body fueled and your blood sugar level on an even keel. And you're getting vitamins, minerals, antioxidants and phytonutrients. Combining carbohydrates and proteins enhances the availability of serotonin in your brain. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter said to have a calming effect and to play a role in sleep.

I am quite gratified that many of the foods I used to buy only for myself, such as all natural peanut butter (just peanuts and nothing else!), are now back in our home as staples for all of my family. I love being able to model for the kids the kinds of behaviors that I think will serve them well in their physical, emotional, and intellectual lives. And in this way, my children give me the gift of living m life in the way I really want.

What are those lines by William Wordsworth?

The Child is father of the Man;
I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

March Madness

Sorry, no, this has nothing to do with college basketball. Instead, I want to make a bold -- bold, I tell ya -- prediction concerning an essay I recently submitted. I developed my little piece for the Share Your Secular Story Contest. Although I conceived, drafted and submitted the essay over the course of a day, I have some confidence that it's a winner.

This might sound boastful, but I am not predicting that the essay will win the contest. I just mean that it's a very good piece that has a reasonable chance of getting to the runner-up stage. I'm not naive, though. I know this contest will get a boatload of essays from REALLY REALLY smart people who are original, thoughtful, witty and great writers. I still think my submission will be able to stand with these others.

My story talks a bit about growing up Jewish and negotiating happiness in and out of religion. I was only allowed 800 words, so I had to keep things tight. The story's supposed to be true, and mine is, but I think I also told things "slant," to borrow from Emily Dickinson.

Since the winner gets the essay published in a place like the Washington Post, I am making a deal with myself. Should my essay be selected as a grand-prize winner and get published in the WaPo, I'll "out" myself by dropping the pseudonym.

If you hadn't guessed, my real name is not Larry Tanner. Larry Tanner was a stupid nickname given to me when I was an undergraduate, but it has nothing to do with my actual name. I started using the pseudonym when I thought just having a blog put at risk my professional life and aspirations. These days I also have blogs under my own name that relate to my research and studies.

Winners of the Share Your Secular Story contest will be announced after June 1.

Krugman on the Health Insurance Reform Vote

Fear Strikes Out, by Paul Krugman
22 March 2010

The day before Sunday’s health care vote, President Obama gave an unscripted talk to House Democrats. Near the end, he spoke about why his party should pass reform: “Every once in a while a moment comes where you have a chance to vindicate all those best hopes that you had about yourself, about this country, where you have a chance to make good on those promises that you made ... And this is the time to make true on that promise. We are not bound to win, but we are bound to be true. We are not bound to succeed, but we are bound to let whatever light we have shine.”

And on the other side, here’s what Newt Gingrich, the Republican former speaker of the House — a man celebrated by many in his party as an intellectual leader — had to say: If Democrats pass health reform, “They will have destroyed their party much as Lyndon Johnson shattered the Democratic Party for 40 years” by passing civil rights legislation.

I’d argue that Mr. Gingrich is wrong about that: proposals to guarantee health insurance are often controversial before they go into effect — Ronald Reagan famously argued that Medicare would mean the end of American freedom — but always popular once enacted.

But that’s not the point I want to make today. Instead, I want you to consider the contrast: on one side, the closing argument was an appeal to our better angels, urging politicians to do what is right, even if it hurts their careers; on the other side, callous cynicism. Think about what it means to condemn health reform by comparing it to the Civil Rights Act. Who in modern America would say that L.B.J. did the wrong thing by pushing for racial equality? (Actually, we know who: the people at the Tea Party protest who hurled racial epithets at Democratic members of Congress on the eve of the vote.)

And that cynicism has been the hallmark of the whole campaign against reform.

Yes, a few conservative policy intellectuals, after making a show of thinking hard about the issues, claimed to be disturbed by reform’s fiscal implications (but were strangely unmoved by the clean bill of fiscal health from the Congressional Budget Office) or to want stronger action on costs (even though this reform does more to tackle health care costs than any previous legislation). For the most part, however, opponents of reform didn’t even pretend to engage with the reality either of the existing health care system or of the moderate, centrist plan — very close in outline to the reform Mitt Romney introduced in Massachusetts — that Democrats were proposing.

Instead, the emotional core of opposition to reform was blatant fear-mongering, unconstrained either by the facts or by any sense of decency.

It wasn’t just the death panel smear. It was racial hate-mongering, like a piece in Investor’s Business Daily declaring that health reform is “affirmative action on steroids, deciding everything from who becomes a doctor to who gets treatment on the basis of skin color.” It was wild claims about abortion funding. It was the insistence that there is something tyrannical about giving young working Americans the assurance that health care will be available when they need it, an assurance that older Americans have enjoyed ever since Lyndon Johnson — whom Mr. Gingrich considers a failed president — pushed Medicare through over the howls of conservatives.

And let’s be clear: the campaign of fear hasn’t been carried out by a radical fringe, unconnected to the Republican establishment. On the contrary, that establishment has been involved and approving all the way. Politicians like Sarah Palin — who was, let us remember, the G.O.P.’s vice-presidential candidate — eagerly spread the death panel lie, and supposedly reasonable, moderate politicians like Senator Chuck Grassley refused to say that it was untrue. On the eve of the big vote, Republican members of Congress warned that “freedom dies a little bit today” and accused Democrats of “totalitarian tactics,” which I believe means the process known as “voting.”

Without question, the campaign of fear was effective: health reform went from being highly popular to wide disapproval, although the numbers have been improving lately. But the question was, would it actually be enough to block reform?

And the answer is no. The Democrats have done it. The House has passed the Senate version of health reform, and an improved version will be achieved through reconciliation.

This is, of course, a political victory for President Obama, and a triumph for Nancy Pelosi, the House speaker. But it is also a victory for America’s soul. In the end, a vicious, unprincipled fear offensive failed to block reform. This time, fear struck out.

Litmus Test

Question: If you thought God were commanding you to murder a small child you knew to be innocent, would you obey?

40 Songs for My Fortieth

I've had on my mind making a special CD of music to commemorate my turning 40, which happens in January. Here's a first pass at songs that I think should be included, organized by 'my' decades, that is, what I was listening to or what was important to me.

1970s

• "You've Made Me So Very Happy" or "And When I Die," by Blood, Sweat & Tears
• "Both Sides, Now" by Judy Collins
• "You Are the Woman that I've Always Dreamed Of," by Firefox
• "Afternoon Delight," by Starland Vocal Band
• "Classical Gas," by Mason Williams
  

1980s

• "Mean Street," by Van Halen
• "Night Train" by Guns 'n' Roses
• "One Tree Hill" by U2
• "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles
• "Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again" by Bob Dylan
• "Astral Weeks (Born Again)," by Van Morrison
• "I'll remember April," by Errol Garner
  

1990s

• "India," by John Coltrane
• "Bitch" or "Can't You Hear Me Knockin'" or "Sway" or "Casino Boogie" by the Rolling Stones
• "East of the Sun," by Tony Bennett
• "You Make Me Feel So Young," by Frank Sinatra
• "Mannelig," by Ale Moller and Lena Willemark
• "Wonder Why We Ever Go Home," by Jimmy Buffett
  

2000s

• "'Long as You're Living Yours," by Keith Jarrett
• "Sunshine Song," by Keith Jarrett
• "Have I Told You Lately," by Rod Stewart (for Becky)
  
• "Father and Daughter" by Paul Simon (for Hannah)
• "Nancy (with the laughing face)," by Tony Bennett or Frank Sinatra (for Emily)
• "Polska of Despair," by Bobo Stenson
• "The Goldhearted Miner," by Esbjorn Svensson Trio
• "Acherei Mot," by Masada
• Some Vignette by Marilyn Crispell
• "In Wind, in Light" by Anders Jormin
• "We Shall Overcome," by Bruce Springstein
  

A Special Anniversary

This is a special anniversary for me.One year ago, I woke up not feeling right. Everything on me – especially my legs and lower back – felt sore, stiff, heavy and tired. The soreness and fatigue lasted throughout the day, and while I didn’t feel sick, exactly, I must have sounded it. Everyone I spoke to asked if I had a cold.

At first, I thought I had simply overexerted myself, since I had been packing up my family’s things in a move to a new house. But after two weeks of constant fatigue and soreness – which had spread to my neck, shoulders, arms and hands – I realized that something more serious was going on. Then, after work one evening, I took the socks off of my aching feet and saw that both my ankles were swollen badly – as if I had swallowed two whole oranges and each had dropped down to an ankle. To me, ankle swelling registered as a heart/circulation problem. After a terrible and sleepless night, I called my doctor.

It turned out that I had come down with an acute form of Sarcoidosis, which is basically a lung disease. Swelling in vessels of my lungs caused arthritic symptoms and fatigue. Fortunately, the prognosis was good, and with medicine and rest, I recovered in about 6 months. The disease will most likely not return, but I am always paying attention to my body now and certainly don’t take feeling good for granted.

This past March, I had a different kind of “just woke up one morning” experience. Seemingly out of the blue, I got up and felt totally committed to being more fit. The interesting thing is how the decision and the dedication were there before I even opened my eyes. Of course, I had been frustrated for some time at how heavy I was getting, how bad I looked in my clothes, how slow I had become, how fragile my back and neck always seemed to be, how easily and often I seemed to come down with sniffles and headaches, and how meek and unconfident I always felt.

But that morning, it was as if I had always been prepared to eat clean and exercise. I immediately started making better choices in meals and food shopping, and I started a home strength and conditioning routine. Every day, I followed along with videotapes of abs and either an arm or leg toning workout. Eventually, my workout needs grew and I got some dumbbells, a bench, a jump rope, a standing punching bag and gloves, and some new running shoes. I have since lost 25 pounds, run 2 road races, and improved considerably in strength and stamina.

This weekend, my two-and-a-half-year-old just woke up and said that she wanted to wear underpants and no more diapers. Just like that she became a big girl. Honestly, I am a little sad to lose another of the baby aspects of my daughter, but I am more proud of her than anything. Who knows what other decisions she’ll announce in mornings of the future.

I guess that momentous changes and life-decisions can happen by just waking up.

A Little Gushing

Well, I have to gush just a little bit. I am thrilled to have stayed three consecutive days at 181 pounds. After hovering around 184-185 for weeks, it's a nice change. And I do feel lighter. At least my tummy isn't constantly stretching the waistband of my pants. I have no intention of buying larger size pants, so I need to lose weight or else.

Unbelievable how hard it is to lose weight, though. The diet's been a surprisingly good part of the challenge. I have been eating small portions of healthy, healthy food -- fiber, fruit, whole grains, greens, and lean meats. Avoiding junk food and late night snacks takes constant vigilance. I have even started to exercise. This morning I did my 8-minute arms and tonight I'll do some 8-minute stretching. So, I know that I haven't done or lost anything just yet, but I am still motivated, so for that I'll give a big "Hullah!"

The motivation does not stop there, however. Because of the forecasted downpours this weekend, it might just be a good time to draft the children's books I have had rattling around. "Uncle Josh and the Schmata" and "Grammy, Grandad, and the Billy Goat" could some day appear on a Scholastic Book Club flier. Why not?

And then of course there is my self-help book, "Do What You Want." Not a great title, I know, but it's a start. Starts are always exciting and interesting. I personally have started many things and finished few. I ain't afraid to walk on after the honeymoon's over, that's for sure. It's also not a kind or helpful trait.

Speaking of kind, I was thinking about another book: "Profiles in Kindness." Yes, it's meant as a nod to Kennedy's (et al.) "Profiles in Courage," but with more emphasis on doing good things for people. Someone should write a book like this -- why not me?

While no one would mistake me for a kid anymore, I still generate the ideas and get the passions of my younger self. Even if I cannot shed weight, run around, or indulge in slightly-less-than-kind mischief as I once did, I can still muster up the better part of my youth and strength. Only on occasion, though.

That's cool with me. One thing I don't now do too much of is dwell on the negative aspects of things. I am a pessimistic optimist -- which still ain't a realist -- so keeping my life moderately light at all times is what I am after. Consciously and subconsciously, this is what I do, I think. Perhaps it has taken awhile, but I have realized and accepted it. Whoever or whatever I once thought I was, the truth of the moment is winning out in me.

Started out gushing, wound up reflecting. Same as ever.