For Adam and Tricia.
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If you have the time, read the first two articles from the March 24th edition of The New York Review of Books: Very Bad News and Welcome to Doomsday. In Very Bad News, Clifford Geertz reviews two books : Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed by Jared Diamond and Catastrophe: Risk and Response by Richard A. Posner.
ìWhether societies waste away in ecological neglect or are destroyed by foreseeable disasters they have failed to prevent, for both writers vigilance and resolve are the price of survival. Awareness is all. However much they may differ in style and method (and they occupy the poles of the social sciencesódogged, fact-thick empiricism on the one side, model-and-calculate political arithmetic on the other), these are consciousness-raising books, tracts for the time. It is later than we think. Later even than we have thought to think. ì
From Welcome to Doomsday by Bill Moyers : ì There are times when what we journalists see and intend to write about dispassionately sends a shiver down the spine, shaking us from our neutrality. This has been happening to me frequently of late as one story after another drives home the fact that the delusional is no longer marginal but has come in from the fringe to influence the seats of power.î

Maybe even before we landed in Evansville, or was it while we werenít waiting for our luggage because we had only carry-ons, Brian brought up Salingerís short story, A Perfect Day for Bananafish (click and download a Word.doc). As an example of near-perfect dialogue. That day, I downloaded it, Diane read it out loud in the living room on Bellemeade and we all discussed it off and on until we got back on the plane. One question, that we couldnít answer, that is only tangentially related: Why did we read it in the first place? Why did every high school student read Catcher in the Rye? And other books that are now classics – A Separate Peace for instance. Were they assigned? I donít think so. Did we all simply read more then? Are there not comparable authors? Are the Harry Potter Books comparable? Matt reads, but claims most of his friends do not.

If you have the time, read the first two articles from the March 24th edition of The New York Review of Books: Very Bad News and Welcome to Doomsday. In Very Bad News, Clifford Geertz reviews two books : Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed by Jared Diamond and Catastrophe: Risk and Response by Richard A. Posner.
ìWhether societies waste away in ecological neglect or are destroyed by foreseeable disasters they have failed to prevent, for both writers vigilance and resolve are the price of survival. Awareness is all. However much they may differ in style and method (and they occupy the poles of the social sciencesódogged, fact-thick empiricism on the one side, model-and-calculate political arithmetic on the other), these are consciousness-raising books, tracts for the time. It is later than we think. Later even than we have thought to think. ì
From Welcome to Doomsday by Bill Moyers : ì There are times when what we journalists see and intend to write about dispassionately sends a shiver down the spine, shaking us from our neutrality. This has been happening to me frequently of late as one story after another drives home the fact that the delusional is no longer marginal but has come in from the fringe to influence the seats of power.î

Maybe even before we landed in Evansville, or was it while we werenít waiting for our luggage because we had only carry-ons, Brian brought up Salingerís short story, A Perfect Day for Bananafish (click and download a Word.doc). As an example of near-perfect dialogue. That day, I downloaded it, Diane read it out loud in the living room on Bellemeade and we all discussed it off and on until we got back on the plane. One question, that we couldnít answer, that is only tangentially related: Why did we read it in the first place? Why did every high school student read Catcher in the Rye? And other books that are now classics – A Separate Peace for instance. Were they assigned? I donít think so. Did we all simply read more then? Are there not comparable authors? Are the Harry Potter Books comparable? Matt reads, but claims most of his friends do not.

ì ‘Sugar.’ You like that, donít you?í

ìYou mean Jeff and Karen?î

ìHey, Sugar.î

ìItís a southern thing, isnít it?î

ìI guess so.î

ìWe say, ‘hon.’ Maybe they think hon is quaint.î

ìWe do say that, donít we?î

ìOften. You use it all the time.î

ìExcept when I say it, Iím thinking h-u-n.î

Dinner at the Gersthaus.
Jeff Ruthenburg photo by Brian.

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Matthew brought Sarah and we had a most unusual MFA experience. The Ralph Lauren Collection of Cars. Cars? Not art? Audio players with Ralph describing at what age he fell in love with which car? ìDad, heís a jackass.î Donít misinterpret, weíre glad we went, but Iím convinced it set the mood for Dianeís comment later as we browsed paintings by Fantin-Latour, Gainsborough,Rembrandt and Nicholas de Largillierre

ìLook at the colors, the perfect brown eyes, the reflection on his armor, the separate strands of hair.î

ìBut who would want to look so goofy , year after year, century after century.î

Afterwards, we made our usual Village Smokehouse dinner stop. Matthew and Sarahís meals were proportioned for normal humans, Diane looked down at her baby back ribs and said, ìI have a pig on my plate.î
One more from the collection.

Happy Birthday, Diane.

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Matthew brought Sarah and we had a most unusual MFA experience. The Ralph Lauren Collection of Cars. Cars? Not art? Audio players with Ralph describing at what age he fell in love with which car? ìDad, heís a jackass.î Donít misinterpret, weíre glad we went, but Iím convinced it set the mood for Dianeís comment later as we browsed paintings by Fantin-Latour, Gainsborough,Rembrandt and Nicholas de Largillierre

ìLook at the colors, the perfect brown eyes, the reflection on his armor, the separate strands of hair.î

ìBut who would want to look so goofy , year after year, century after century.î

Afterwards, we made our usual Village Smokehouse dinner stop. Matthew and Sarahís meals were proportioned for normal humans, Diane looked down at her baby back ribs and said, ìI have a pig on my plate.î
One more from the collection.

Happy Birthday, Diane.

My last day with Teresa.

ìHow is your coffee? Warm enough?î She asked.

ìItís perfect coming from a microwave.î

ìI heated it for forty-three seconds.î

ìDid you call Walter this morning at seven?î

ìI did. But yesterday, or was it Monday…I walked the dog again and he called at 7:03 wondering if I had fallen and needed help.î

“Suppose you have fallen and thatís why you havenít called him?î

“He’d call the police if too much time went by.”

ìI couldnít help overhearing your phone conversation with John. A bleeding ulcer?î

ìJohn was one of my Larryís best friends. They did everything together. John never married, but I always invited him to be with us.î

ìEven Thanksgiving…Christmas…with your children?î

ìHe wouldnít always come. Sometimes he would say he was too busy. He is eighty now and he was admitted to the hospital for four days. When they found out he was alone they sent a social worker to his house after he was dischargedî

ìIf they decide he shouldnít live alone, where would he go?î

ìI donít know. He is so independent. But he could afford a nice place like where your mother-in-law lives. He has the money, but he wonít spend it. He is always telling me how well his stocks are doing, but he wonít pay for a house cleaner. He says they are too expensive. He is so set in his ways.”

“Makes you understand why he never got married.”

“Once, right after the war ended, and this was before I met Larry… .î

ìBefore you knew both John and Larry?í

ìYes. They were going to meet at a bar with their dates for some drinks. Larry was already there when John pulled up outside the bar with his date. John got out of the car, but the girl didn’t move. She was waiting for him to open her car door. He walked right past her and into the bar. Larry asked him where his date was and John told him she was in the car waiting for her door to be opened.î

Sunset at thirty thousand feet.

Ever been to the Detroit Airport?

Denise Dill playing at Penny Lane in Evansville, Indiana.
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Jennifer

I tend to have nightmares about school especially in the week before school starts in the fall, a day or two before every vacation ends, and on long weekends. This is from before the end of our last vacation.

I was in my classroom (which was a lecture-hall), and I didnít have much for my students to do, so they were somewhat rowdy. I kept thinking of additional things which we could do together, but each involved leaving the room for a minute to get something. Each time I returned there were more students in the room, being even rowdier. I didnít know anyoneís name, but finally realized the reason I didnít was some of them werenít my students. The final time this happened, one of the drop-ins was smoking a cigarette, holding it with a test-tube holder. I remembered that I could call the office for help, so I did. The secretary who answered yelled at me for leaving the classroom.

I woke up, and I couldnít remember what my situation is. I knew I was home, in bed, that I do teach school, and even that the secretary had in fact retired a few years ago, but I couldnít figure anything else out. I knew that the feeling of not being able to remember studentsí names is real, so I figured the way to go would be to pull up a visual memory of my classroom. It took a while, but I finally could remember where my windows are.

Classes went ok yesterday, but students were somewhat rowdy and I wasnít quite organized enough with what I wanted them to do.