Toaster 2 -- In the Garden with Thanks to AL

Joan and Ken are visited by Will, Ken's son, and Lynn, Will's wife. Will and Lynn are middle-aged. Joan is 66; Ken 79.

Modest home, backyard patio and garden.


JOAN: [looking in a home medical encyclopedia] Maybe it’s under “itch.”

WILL: Try under “rash.”

JOAN: Well, it’s not really a rash. It may be Shingles.

KEN: I thought Shingles was more of a pain.

JOAN: The only thing under “itch” is “anal.”

KEN: A-N-A-L?

JOAN: Yes, Ken.

KEN: That’s the word that means “rectum.”

JOAN: Well, now I think it means more a matter of being narrow-minded.

KEN: That’s the dictionary definition?

JOAN: Well, that’s how kids and lots of people use it.

KEN: I had a problem there once. Really more of an irritation than an itch . . .

JOAN: Well, Ken . . . I’m looking for an itch here.

KEN: I see . . .

JOAN: What’s that, Ken?

KEN: I see . . . you interrupted me again.

JOAN: Well, sometimes . . . .

LYNN [having finished trimming the garden] That’s done!

JOAN: Thank you, Lynn.

KEN: Yes, Lynn, that’s great!

[pause]

JOAN: Well, there’s one little thing. . . .

KEN: Oh, here we go.

JOAN: Those two little geraniums. I think they’re dead or dying.

LYNN [returns to garden] Here?

JOAN: See, Ken, I could say that I’m a little “anal” about my garden.

KEN: I would never say that.

JOAN: Well, that’s the popular term now.

KEN: I don’t give a damn what the teens are saying, I . . .

JOAN: Well, adults say it, too.

KEN: I see . . . .

JOAN: See? Now, YOU’RE being anal.

KEN: What the hell is ANAL about . . .

LYNN [returning from garden] It means “overly meticulous.”

JOAN: Well, yes . . . but it’s also “narrow-minded.”

Just Photos from Inverness and Pt. Reyes, California

Me in the Blogosphere of 9.4 Billion

If CR is correct and there are over 9.4 billion blogs in the world, and mine is ranked 9.4 billion in popularity, then let's try to get some perspective on that.

First, some people are creating or at least contributing to more than one blog . . . and hoping for readers. Or . . . every person on the planet has at least one blog.

Second, if the earth is made up of minds processing information in order to remain vital, then the blogosphere seems to be both rich with nutrients and choked by pollution. My blog, like a meringue or a round of Petit Basque cheese, while not entirely nutritious, certainly doesn't pollute.

Third, if there were an alphabetized written index of all blog titles, and you were asked to read one title per second, and you couldn't catch your breath before reading the first 9.4 billion titles, it would take you about 313 years before you could draw a breath . . . by which time blogs may no longer exist or, at least, they'll have a better name than "blog."

Fourth, if all the titles were about the length of mine, and you strung them end to end, in Helvetica 20 point font, they'd stretch from here to . . . the other side of our solar system!

The length of my title above x 9.4 billion = a lot!

Fifth, if mine is the 9,456,876,223th most read blog as CR indicates, well, just how many blogs are there out there? Maybe there are twice that many that even fewer people read. Or maybe friends of bloggers are offering to game the system, just as CR did when she wrote: "Do you want me to go to your blog and then shut the window many many times to boost your self esteem?" Of course, I said no to her because my integrity is more important than my blog. Perspective is everything.

Sixth, the third factoid is true. I was guessing, for dramatic effect, on the fourth.

Seventh, the sixth indicates that the fourth may be polluting the blogosphere.

Can Only Go Up!!!!!!!

From CR: "Your blog is rated as the 9,456,876,223th most read blog! Wow, you must feel special. Do you want me to go to your blog and then shut the window many many times to boost your self-esteem?"

Overheard in a Berkeley Bakery

Her: . . . and he also shops classes to see how many smart people are in it because, you know, he’s, like, gaming the curve.

Him: Yeah, I can see that with the kind of firms he’s looking at.

Her: He also handed in the same paper in four different classes.

Him: Yeah, why write more papers if you don’t have to? Besides, he told his professors, right?

Her: What?

Him: That he was handing in the same paper to four classes?

Her: That I don’t know.

CB and HP: “You must have a blog entry every day.” My response:

I don’t have that much to say, I don’t think.

I’m busy.

And because this is “The Eclectic Greg” it will offer my thoughts on a variety of topics, many of which may be of no concern to you. So check weekly, then read what you want.

You might argue that you don’t read for the topics, you read for my take on topics, because it’s me. That because it’s me, you’d read about whatever the topic might be: fly fishing, filaments, Philadelphia, landfill. If do you read me, and not the topics, I am humbled.

But I’m still busy.

Blog: Supply and Demand

Does my blog generate a demand among my legion of followers so that, in classical economic mode, demand generates a supply of my musings?

Or is there a different supply and demand dynamic to consider? Does the opportunity to blog, for which there is a relatively huge and inexpensive supply, arouse my demand to use the supply? I.e., if the opportunity to blog didn’t arise and tempt, would I have fewer thoughts demanding expression?

This is a chicken and egg conundrum.

I do know this: The demand of my followers, what there is of it, should not generate a greater supply of musings than the circumstances of my life evoke.

My principle should be: I shouldn’t write for writing’s sake, but only when I think I have something intriguing to share.

I have violated that principle with this entry.

Athletes Pointing to the Heavens

Did this start with Barry Bonds, or even before: A guy hits a homerun and upon arriving at home plate, he looks up reverentially and points with both hands to the heavens. Or to loved ones who’ve passed on. Does he then turn to a teammate and say, “I crushed the #!%$# outta that one. Thank you, Jesus.”

Or do heavy hitters do it before they start their homerun saunter?

If baseball stadiums are becoming megachurches with expressions of reverence every five minutes, then maybe American pro sports needs an Establishment Clause, a wall of separation between Church and game. Because it’s not just homeruns anymore. It’s singles, sacrifice flies, a stolen base, scoring on someone else’s hit! I can only imagine this is huge in football, too. Fortunately, there’s no time for thanking God in basketball or hockey. The guy hitting the three-pointer needs to get back on D . . . now! God can wait.

You might argue that pros pointing to heaven are giving credit where credit is due, the ultimate expression of humility. But I suspect that with a great many, it’s more a matter of the athlete imagining that he’s among the “chosen” – those watched over and blessed by God . . . even in the games they play. Or, worse, for some of those who’ve tainted the game with their chemical additives, perhaps it’s an attempt to deflect criticism: “The steroids aren’t responsible. God is!” Or: “My grandmother is watching from above, so, please, let’s not talk about steroids now.”

And now, of course, I imagine we’ll see little leaguers pointing, with proper gravitas, to the skies after every small success . . . just so they can do what the pros do.

We all follow the lead of athletes. What about those middle-aged guys who wear jerseys to football games and cheer profanities with a maniacal exertion that makes them look as if an alien were about to spawn from their eye-sockets? If their heroes point to the skies to credit the Divine, will the fans reconsider their spleen-busting, child-awing profanities and instead quietly point to the heavens while singing Gregorian chant? How can we cheer profanely while our hero is pointing to heaven? It’s unseemly. Let’s consider Jesus and the money changers in the Temple:

Scene: Jesus kicks the tables of the money changers in the Temple.

Jesus: (kicking stuff): My house shall be called the house of prayer; but you have made it a den of thieves. (Matthew 21:13)

Followers of Jesus: Yeah, yeah! He crushed the #!%$# outta that money changers’ #!%$#! . . . JEE-SUS! JEE-SUS! JEE-SUS! JEE-SUS! JEE-SUS!

Of course, it didn’t happen that way.

Will these affectations of reverence spillover into the workplace, too, like high-fives, sports parlance, and team-building games?

Bob: Nice job on stacking that hay, Dave.

Dave: (points to heaven): Yeah, I stacked the #!%$# out of that hay. Thank you Jesus.

Or:

Joan: They never saw that takeover coming Phyllis. Masterful.

Phyllis: (points to heaven). Yeah, that was one #!%$#ing hostile takeover. Thank you Jesus. (High-fives Joan. Joan offers Pyllis chewing tobacco.)

Does God care about the Tigers-Yankees game? If so, does He have a favorite? Do we blame Him if our team loses? Do we get in God’s face if He gives us the game-tying, late-inning homer only to have someone on the other infernal team hit a game winning homer . . . just before pointing to the heavens himself?

Or is it loved ones the athletes point to? Heaven may be, for some, the very best, most comprehensive cable-satellite-online hookup where every player’s grandparents are watching every game, even in Spring Training.

Whoever they’re pointing to, the athletes seem to abide by an unwritten code more than they abide by reverence for the Divine. After all, correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t it be bad form for a pitcher to point gratefully to God after striking out a heavy hitter with men on base in a close late-inning game? Or for a shortstop to acknowledge heavenly grace after turning a double play cleanly? Frankly, I always hoped that a pitcher facing some heaven-pointer would point, quid pro quo, to the heavens after striking him out.

Of course, a pitcher is successful about 75% of the time against batters and it’s much easier to throw a ball to a sizeable target, even with juice, than it is to hit that curving, 90 mph sphere, squarely, with a cylinder. So a homerun might feel like divine intervention. But if athletes are thanking God for their dramatic successes, why not after every successful moment?

Doesn’t God care about strikeouts, especially strikeouts against the steroid-soaked, hubris-infected louts always seeking God’s attention? Is it true that inauthentic shows of reverence, bad as they are, fail to outrage athletes and fans as much as “showing up” an opposing team or player? There are even rules against it, right. Maybe that’s as it should be: Showing someone up would lead to a bench-clearing brawl. Chaos reigns. Satan wins.

I await your comments. In the meantime, I’m gazing, at this moment, toward heaven.

Email Messages That Begin with "Hahaha"

If I receive a response to an email and the responding message begins with "Hahaha" or something to that effect, and my original message is not quoted, does it mean that my original message was somehow amusing? Or does it mean that the respondent suspects that I intended my message to be funny and is therefore politely acknowledging what he or she presumes to be my attempt at humor? Or is "Hahaha" some form of exclamation or introduction like "Well . . ." or "You know . . ." or, well, you know, something to that effect.

And is this the kind of pointless blog that chases prospective followers and even casual readers away?

Some of you out there will be tempted to begin a comment with "Hahaha." Do so if you wish, but explain to me what it means. Yes, yes, I should anticipate that this particular blog will get a few laughs. But the fact of the matter remains that I get more emails that begin this way and . . . .

Okay, I could go back to the my original message to determine if something I wrote was funny or could be construed as such, but that seems oddly narcissistic (yes, perhaps that same could be said for blogs generally).

The College Essay: Who Are You and How Do You Know?

For High School Seniors:

Who are you and how do you know? That’s an essay you’re never asked to write in high school, or rarely anyway, and it’s a question you should ask and answer before you leave home. Write one essay that answers this question before you even see the questions from colleges. Fundamentall, each college asks the same question.

Some thoughts and advice:

The struggle to write a memorable essay:

Your essay will be one of 50-200 read on a weekend by an admissions officer who is not looking forward to this weekend.

Unless you really do exhibit some measure of uniqueness, your essay will not be memorable.

Nearly every essay the admissions officer will read will be well-organized, mechanically clean, and responsive to the question. So will yours. Some kids will be a little more literate than others, some offer a better combination of simple and complex sentences. Nice, but not sufficient to be memorable.
You become memorable -- your essay will be remembered 10 essays later -- not as a result of your mechanical proficiency.

Ideally, your essay moves the reader so that s/he wants to share parts or all of it with others who don't have to read it. Ideally, your essay compels your reader to put your essay forward to complement a great transcript or to replace a merely good one.

So . . . again: Unless you really do exhibit some measure of uniqueness, your essay will not be memorable. You can do this if you give yourself sufficient time and you allow yourself to examine who you are.

Don't turn a resume into an essay:

Nor will your essay be memorable if it is, in fact, a narrative of all your accomplishments that make the world a better place, i.e., resume as essay.

The opportunity to write this essay is a gift. The world does not give you many opportunities to sit for a while, a long while, to take stock of yourself, to examine yourself . . . not just sell yourself.

If you think of the essay as little more than an opportunity to sell yourself, to commodify yourself, it will not be memorable. It will sound like everyone elses.

Getting Started, Just Notes, Killing Your Babies:

Just write some notes, some lines, some phrases. Don't think about beginning, middle or end. Just write.

Don't get attached to anything you write. There will be some great lines that just won't be right for the essay. Gotta kill your babies.

The first really clean, well organized, draft is probably good, but . . . not nearly what it could be. It's good for a generic student; it's not good enough for you as a unique individual.

Writing is hard. You'll have taken stock of yourself as you introduce yourself to the greater world.

Where do you start? With what? Here are some ways in:

-- Find a moment in your life that, for whatever reason, you return to as something that resonates, something you can't help but keep returning to, something that maybe didn't tell you anything at the time, but you keep returning to it anyway, something that maybe sneaks up on you after months of not making an appearance. Often this involves a quandary in your life, a confusion, a struggle. We are who we are because of that with which we struggle.

-- Go deep, not broad. A list of attributes with a little explanation for each is tedious.

-- Show . . . and tell. A beautiful essay is different than most essays you've written. It has to include a measure of storytelling.

-- Flesh and blood. The essay is about a real, flesh and blood person. Don't write in abstractions.

-- Humans, especially teens, are messy things. Don't be afraid to share the mess. Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." But the examined life does not provide a whole of lot neat, no longer loose ends.

-- Does this mean that you have to write a depressing essay about a neurotic? No. It means you approach profundity without bathos. Yes, when you start to approach your core in writing, the writing may be really bad, but that's because language fails us initially when we approach something we've never written about that is complex, difficult, and stranger than you thought it would be.

-- Ideally, you should be a revelation to yourself.


Last Notes:

-- No cliches. Ever.

-- Don't try too hard to be poetic. Just get the tools off the shelf. The beauty of what you write will come last, arising organically out of the content, not imposed like flashy nothing on dross.

-- Have ONE editor -- a good listener: You would do well to hash ideas, notes, moments, stuff . . . with someone who listens well and doesn't know you extremely well. Like your college counselor or just about anyone who listens other than your parents. They know you too well and will be too anxious. The essay you send is the one you should share with them. It might prove to be a great gift to them, too. It will help them with their Rite of Passage, too . . . the one where they say goodbye to you.

-- However, you do need to work with one person on getting to the core of who you are. Don't work with several people. No more than 2 really. One ideally. You can definitely have too many cooks in that kitchen.

-- But DO work with someone who asks the hard questions and tells you when the writing is . . . not so good.

Is this daunting? Yes. Can it be done? Yes, if you commit yourself and your time to it.

Honoring My First Follower - Isa

English Teachers and Rough Drafts

Independent high school English teaching is a great gig without much in the way of drawbacks. The pay isn't really that bad. The kids are great. You can choose where you want to live. Colleagues are usually wonderful. The only drawback, as any English teacher will confirm, is . . . grading papers. By inviting or requiring kids to give us rough drafts, we double the misery.

If you're a student of mine out there, please don't take this as a denegration of your thinking and writing that may have meant so much to you for a variety of reasons. Of course, we enjoy, even delight in your progress as a writer and the revelations that young minds can share. We just don't like a stack of 45 papers to read over a weekend.

Of course, if good pedagogy deems it necessary, then we need to assign rough drafts. But what if good pedagogy doesn't compel it. What if, in fact, good pedagogy militates against it?

It's up to you if my argument is self-serving, but here goes:

We are teachers, not editors preparing essays for publication. Accordingly, no one paper is important. Rather, the progess from paper to paper is important.

As a teacher of writing, I have to help kids maximize their strengths while recognizing and attending to their challenges. That's the real skill, the independence, to be developed. The ethic of assigning rough drafts can be expressed as "now go back and try again given the comments and corrections I've added." But that same ethic applies to the next paper. Correcting what I circle or comment upon, doesn't require as much writerly attentiveness and problem-solving as does anticipating weaknesses in brand new efforts, finding them, and attending to them. This is why I generally assign no drafts, but there are lots of starts.

I'd also argue that when we correct rough drafts, the kids naturally attend to those corrections and comments almost exclusively. The result, I fear, is that they sense that the progress from rough draft to finished product need only be relatively superficial when, in fact, a second shot at a paper should be an opportunity for further, deepening thought, clearer prose, a more confident, supple voice, i.e., more beautiful writing.

So, sure, the students could benefit from rough drafts, but my involvement with them might actually stifle further thought.

Then there's the most unfortunate possible impact of assigning and marking up rough drafts: If a student attends to all the corrections and comments energetically, should she get an A on the paper? Not necessarily, but that may be a hard sell (except at my school where we don't have grades . . . I'll address this on another day). At its best, the rough draft may become a good, not a great paper. However, it may have become great had the student worked beyond the corrections and comments.

A compromise: I will occasionally invite a particularly challenged writer to show me any paragraph of their choosing. Whatever mistakes the student is making in that paragraph are likely to be exhibited in the others. And I tell them so. "Look out for that thing you do . . . " I might say . . . or something to that effect.

"Try again," means on the next assignment.

Toaster – a One-Act by Greg Monfils

Scene: Ken and Joan, retired couple at breakfast in their home with Will, Ken’s son, and Lynn, Will’s wife, both visiting. Joan stands looking at the toaster.

Joan: I hate this toaster.

Ken: Why do you “hate” the toaster, Joan?

Joan: It just takes forever.

Ken: It takes 4 minutes to toast. You should just accept the toaster the way it is.

Joan: I hate it.

Ken: That means you’re going to get a new one, I suppose.

Joan: Well, I don’t . . .

Ken: I’m perfectly happy with this one.

Joan: . . . know what I’m . . . I just . . . you SHOULD be happy with it, this is YOUR English muffin I’m waiting for.

Ken: Joan, why not sit down and go back when it’s ready?

Pause

Lynn: We don’t have a toaster. We use the broiler.

Joan: Uh-huh. . . . Here’s your muffin.

Ken: Thank you, Joan. It’s a perfectly good toaster, but get a new one if you want. That’s how it usually works.

Joan: Does anyone want anymore toast? I have potato bread, raisin bread, English muffins.

Will: How long will it take?

Joan: Will . . . . here just take a piece of mine if you’re in such a hurry.

Will: No, I don’t really want any.

Ken: The toaster is what it is, Joan. You can’t change the toaster. If it’s broken . . .

Joan: Yes, Ken. It’s not broken. I understand.

Pause:

Ken: Why is our new president vacationing in Hawaii?

Will: It’s Christmas. He’s not president yet. Hawaii’s his home.

Ken: I know it’s his home. [Pause] He should be with his team in Washington. Working.

Lynn: I’m pretty sure he’s working and in contact with his team.

Ken: He’s swimming seems to me. He needs to be in Washington. Working, not swimming. This English muffin is great, Joan. Thank you. Pause

Will: Obama will face some big problems.

Ken: He should be in Washington.

Lynn: I’m sure the technology available to him allows for some contact . . .

Ken: He shouldn’t be playing on the beach while . . .

Joan: HE’S WITH HIS FAMILY. IT’S CHRISTMAS. A CHRISTMAS VACATION LIKE THE WHOLE WORLD TAKES, KEN!!!!

Ken: I just wish he wouldn’t spend two weeks in Hawaii.

Joan: Oh, Ken!

Will: He’s not the President yet. He’s got his team in place. He’ll hit the ground running.

Ken: And I wish him well.

Joan: LIAR!!

Ken: Why am I a goddamn liar?

Joan: Oh . . . you know. [Pause] He’s on a family vacation for godsake.

Ken: We can’t wait for him to get moving on the country’s business.

Tina Working the Fish Over