Hockey Night in Georgia

Hockey's a beautiful game. I've been a fan for more than 40 years and have attended games in St. Louis, Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit, San Diego, and DC. Many games. Professional games with professional players. College games too. I watch it on TV -- pro, college or international. I watched the game a couple of weeks ago when the world record hockey crowd (113,411 people in Michigan Stadium) saw the UM Wolverines trounce the Michigan State Spartans. I'll see the annual "Winter Classic" tomorrow; that's the outdoor NHL game played every year on New Years Day. And there's the IIHF under-20 world championship going on this week as team USA goes against teams from other countries. I'm recording those games to watch when I can. So you get my drift, eh? I love hockey when it's done right.

They have something similar to hockey in Atlanta, as I discovered last night. There are big guys with sticks pushing a little black rubber thing around an ice surface that looks like a hockey rink. But there are fire-breathing birds above the scoreboard that shoot out flames when a goal is scored, and the announcer sounds like Vince McMahon of pro-wrestling fame: "and now ... here they are ... 

YOUR ... ATLANTA ... THRASHERS!!!

I thought a thrasher was a piece of farm machinery. Turns out it's also a bird, and in Atlanta it's a mascot:

After "Thrash" helps introduce the teams the game starts, but a couple of times each period they stop for the "Blue Crew" to clean off the ice. Nowhere else do they do this; cleaning the ice is for the Zamboni machine between periods. But these scantily clad "ice Barbies," as I dubbed them, come out and circle around with snow shovels during what I assume are TV timeouts. The players loll around their respective benches squirting Gatorade into their mouths and gawking while the Barbies scoop shavings into trash buckets then disappear. Nobody but me seems to find this strange. "It's the South," says my brother-in-law. "What do they know about hockey?"

Ice Barbie 

During the intermissions (which aren't the customary 15 minutes each but a bizarre 17 minutes, presumably to work in a few more TV commercials) they do goofy stuff like having kids dressed as Peter Puck run around the rink and leap over obstacles as "Thrash" chases them and knocks them down. It's really charming. 

Peter Puck

As if that weren't enough, during the first intermission last night the Blue Crew rolled a rubber mat onto the ice and out marched a bride and groom, their wedding party, and a minister, and they proceeded to conduct a marriage ceremony right then and there. Instead of riding off in a limousine when it was over, they got to ride around the rink on the Zamboni machine and wave to the crowd, none of whom seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to them.

Fortunately, the fans in my section of the arena didn't yell during the wedding, but they had some creative cheers when play was underway. The loudest devotee was a big round bald guy with a telescoping vuvuzela (my nephews and I want one now, by the way) who would blow his horn then chant "Ref you suck! Ref you suck!" over and over. Then he'd pause and shout, "Okay, second verse: Ref you suck! Ref you suck!" and on and on. This brought a chuckle and the participation of a few co-conspirators the first couple of times he did it, but by the 10th or 11th time it got a little old, especially since it was punctuated by the cow bells that various folks had brought with them. Another cheer, also with bell accompaniment, was the favorite of my nephews John and Hayden: "I'm blind / I'm deaf / I wanna be a ref!" This too lost its appeal after a dozen or more repetitions, however.

The fans' emotion notwithstanding , both teams seemed uninspired last night. Maybe they'd been out too late the night before or were tired from their away-games on Tuesday. For whatever the reason, they bumbled to a 2-2 tie, a scoreless overtime, and a Thrashers win in a shootout. That's always fun.

There are no great philosophical learnings to be had here, just the realization that this is the South. Hockey doesn't really belong. But it's still fun.

___

On a different note: HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone!  I'll "chat" with you next year.

The Real Story of the Three Wise Guys

. . .

You see, they weren't really kings. They were tourists -- a Hindu holy man, a rabbi, and a lawyer. When they got to Bethlehem (the day before Jesus was born) there was one room left in the inn, but it had just one double bed; so the Hindu volunteered to sleep in the stable and he went out there and everyone else went to bed. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door and the Hindu man said, "There's a cow in the stable and cows are holy and I can't sleep out there with a cow."

So the rabbi said, "Okay, I'll sleep in the stable." And he went out and the others went to bed. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door and the rabbi said, "There's a pig in the stable and pigs are unclean and I can't sleep out there with a pig."

So the lawyer said, "Oh for Moses' sake [remember, Christ hadn't been born yet], I'll sleep in the stable; let's all get some rest!" And he went out and the others went to bed. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door ...

... and it was the cow and the pig.

Happy Holidays!

I was thinking about how to wish everyone happy holidays when I came across this gem from the A Word A Day newsletter (www.wordsmith.org).

The subject word was periphrasis (a roundabout way of saying something using more words than necessary), and the example is from a British TV series. One of the characters is speaking to a government minister:

Sir Humphrey: "I wonder if I might crave your momentary indulgence in order to discharge a by-no-means disagreeable obligation which has, over the years, become more or less established practice within government circles as we approach the terminal period of the calendar year, of course, not financial. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, Week Fifty-One, and submit to you, with all appropriate deference, for your consideration at a convenient juncture, a sincere and sanguine expectation -- indeed confidence, indeed one might go so far as to say hope -- that the aforementioned period may be, at the end of the day, when all relevant factors have been taken into consideration, susceptible to being deemed to be such as to merit a final verdict of having been by no means unsatisfactory in its overall outcome and, in the final analysis, to give grounds for being judged, on mature reflection, to have been conducive to generating a degree of gratification which will be seen in retrospect to have been significantly higher than the general average."

Jim Hacker: "Are you trying to say 'Happy Christmas,' Humphrey?"

Sir Humphrey: "Yes, Minister."

And the same from me to you!  

The Know It All--Redux

One of my avid readers--okay, "avid" is a little strong; it's my niece, who's recovering from surgery and doesn't have anything better to do--wrote that she's amazed they had computers when I was young. Well, check this out: "Calculating Machine" (the cross reference from "Computer") -- "a device which solves problems in addition, subtraction, multiplication and division."  Note the picture. It's not much more than an abacus!


P.S., in the entry, which should be that. ;-)

The Know It All

When I heard about this book, I just had to own it. I mean, really, people have been accusing me of being a "know-it-all" for decades--more than five decades, actually--and here's somebody who's stolen my thunder. He's read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica from A to Zed (33,000 pages and 44 million words) and then written a bestseller about the experience. I hate him, the show off!

I never dreamed up A.J. Jacobs's gimmick, darn it, but I came close. You see, when I was ten my parents bought my younger brother and me a set of The World Book Encyclopedia (10,518 pages and around 10 million words by my rough calculation). I'm not sure Paul used it much, but I was immediately enthralled. I kept it in my room. As a budding know-it-all, each night I would grab a volume at random from the shelf and read it in bed until I fell asleep. I even autographed the inside cover of each of the 19 volumes. I still sign my books, but not with the paraph I used then. (A paraph is the decorative flourish accompanying a signature; it was once a popular technique to deter forgery. Think of John Hancock's signature, for example.) 

I still have those World Books. The graphics are simple--quaint, one might say--and of course the information is outdated (for example, the entry for "computer" says: See Calculating Machine), but they are still fun to leaf through. And Jacob's book, modestly subtitled "One man's humble quest to become the smartest person in the world," is a hoot! It's part memoir, part education, and all fun. He writes with wit and charm, and he shares with the reader his journey of discovery from a-ak to zywiec and everything in between. I learned, for example, the following tidbits with which I can now astound my friends:

• besides being a writer, among other things Goethe was a lawyer, painter, theater manager, statesman, soldier, alchemist, astrologer, songwriter, philosopher, botanist, biologist, issuer of military uniforms, and mine inspector
• in some languages there is a cousin to the prefix and the suffix; it's called an "infix," and there's only one in English; it's not polite, but Red Sox fans use it as Bucky Dent's middle name
• Alaska is both the western-most and eastern-most U.S. state (check it out on a globe)
• a "square root" is so called because the Pythagoreans would make a square of, say, 16 pebbles with four equal rows; thus the bottom row--the root of that square--was four

I also learned about the Ebbinghaus curve (a.k.a. the "forgetting curve"). I'd tell you more, but I don't remember how it works.

One thing I didn't learn was why Britannica's last entry isn't zyzzyva, any of various tropical American weevils, often destructive to plants. I've always thought that would be a great Scrabble word, but there aren't enough Z-tiles to pull it off.

The Election is Over -- Hooray!

Now that the election is over (thank goodness!), let’s hope that the people we sent to Washington and the state capitals will settle down and get something done rather than spending their time slinging more loose rhetoric. 

     It’s about that loose rhetoric that I write today. It’s easy enough to brand someone with inflammatory language—“liberal elitist,” “socialist,” “reactionary,” etc.—but seldom do I hear people define those kinds of terms; and seldom is there any purpose other than to put down the opposition.

     An interesting little 10-question exercise (dubbed the “World’s Smallest Political Quiz”) will help you define yourself on the political spectrum. Think of political philosophies not as points on straight line but as positions on a baseball diamond. Everyone is somewhere on the diamond, somewhere near one of these positions:

Third base: Left (Liberal)

Liberals usually embrace freedom of choice in personal matters, but tend to support significant government control of the economy. They generally support a government-funded "safety net" to help the disadvantaged, and advocate strict regulation of business. Liberals tend to favor environmental regulations, defend civil liberties and free expression, support government action to promote equality, and tolerate diverse lifestyles.

Second base: Libertarian

Libertarians support maximum liberty in both personal and economic matters. They advocate a much smaller government; one that is limited to protecting individuals from coercion and violence. Libertarians tend to embrace individual responsibility, oppose government bureaucracy and taxes, promote private charity, tolerate diverse lifestyles, support the free market, and defend civil liberties.

Pitcher’s mound: Centrist

Centrist prefer a "middle ground" regarding government control of the economy and personal behavior. Depending on the issue, they sometimes favor government intervention and sometimes support individual freedom of choice. Centrists pride themselves on keeping an open mind, tend to oppose "political extremes," and emphasize what they describe as "practical" solutions to problems.

First base: Right (Conservative)

Conservatives tend to favor economic freedom, but frequently support laws to restrict personal behavior that violates "traditional values." They oppose excessive government control of business, while endorsing government action to defend morality and the traditional family structure. Conservatives usually support a strong military, oppose bureaucracy and high taxes, favor a free-market economy, and endorse strong law enforcement.

Home plate: Statists (Big Government)

Statists want government to have a great deal of power over the economy and individual behavior. They frequently doubt whether economic liberty and individual freedom are practical options in today's world. Statists tend to distrust the free market, support high taxes and centralized planning of the economy, oppose diverse lifestyles, and question the importance of civil liberties. [I don't hear a lot of people claiming to be "statists" today.]

     Take the quiz at: http://www.theadvocates.org/quiz It’s easy and it’s fun. And it will instantly place you somewhere on the political spectrum, as shown in this hypothetical result: 

Then ask your friends to take the little quiz too and see where they land. It’s kind of a Myers-Briggs test for politics, and it should provide some insight into one’s “political personality.”

     If each of us were more conscious of the belief system that underlies our own viewpoints, and if we were able to recognize the belief systems through which others view the issues, maybe we could stop throwing around undefined terms and start actually to define what the problems are. For example, we could ask each other, in a calm and non-threatening way, substantive questions like these:

     “What does it really mean to say so-and-so is a [insert pejorative here]?”

     “I sense that you’re coming from a libertarian viewpoint; do you think we should help homeless people, and if so how?”

     “When you say you want to ‘take our country back,’ can you be more specific about the problems you want to fix and how you want to fix them?”

     “As a liberal, do you agree that there’s a crisis looming in Social Security and Medicare? If so, how are we going to pay for that safety net as the baby boom generation reaches retirement age?”

     Winston Churchill once said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, except all the others that have been tried.” He also said, “The best argument against democracy is a five minute conversation with the average voter.” This election cycle may have proven him right on both counts once again.

     Unless we all shelve the angry rhetoric and name-calling, recognize the basic beliefs each of us is “coming from,” and actually start to identify and solve problems, it’s not likely to get any better for 2012.

Opinions Are Not Facts--Part Two

My blog is not about politics. (Well, not much anyway.) It’s for “miscellaneous musings about the human condition.” Politics is just the occasional springboard to those musings.

Yesterday I described my breakfast conversation with someone who was woefully uninformed about his chosen topic but had firm opinions nonetheless. The subject was health care reform, but it might as well have been government bailouts, liberal elites, global warming, or whatever. No matter the issue, mad-as-hell voters like this gentleman rant on about imagined foes, are moved by chauvinistic patriotism, seek reinforcement for their preconceived ideas, and vote for whoever panders to their emotions. It does little good to cite facts; they aren’t interested. And are their minds are already made up? You betcha!

While musing about the breakfast bloviator, I asked rhetorically: why does anger trump logic, and whatever happened to critical thinking skills? The answers have to do with fear, of course. When people are afraid, they get frustrated and angry, and rationality disappears. They latch onto what a friend calls "value-menu ideology"—Tea Party rhetoric and concepts that, like fast food, are simple, readily available, and addictive. Thus, happy meal ideas clog the arteries of our public discourse.

My usual response to these troglodytes is to ignore them or mock them (as I just did in my choice of words). But perhaps I need to probe deeper and ask other questions. If fear causes anger, which in turn displaces logic, where does the fear itself come from? Is it simply an uninformed, irrational reflex? Is it nostalgia for the “good old days”? Should we demonize these agitated people, laugh at their ignorance, and deride the fractional truths they hear on cable news and talk radio? Or ought we to recognize their fear as a natural reaction to a perceived threat? If so, what is that threat?

The threat, I submit, is to America’s mythological narrative: the story that we all share to one degree or another; the story about Rugged Individualists, the American Dream, and the Land of Opportunity. This story/myth/narrative is neither true nor false; it just is. It’s part of our national psyche, and many conservatives so strongly relate to it that it seems part of their own identity. So when major social changes occur (the economy goes south, a person of color is elected President, health reform passes), they subconsciously feel the narrative is being changed and their identity is being threatened. The natural “mama bear” instinct takes over and they want to fight: “Give me my country back!”

To make matters worse, popular media inflame these subliminal fears. To quote one of my trusted correspondents: “Tea Partiers have been boxed into a natural but extreme psychological state—the state of a cornered animal—by [certain] media.  It is a story of psychological extortion.  The people who control the information make you distrust their competitors, convince you that your identity is at stake, and offer you the only solution.” 

That solution, of course, is to continue watching their particular cable channel. My friend then concludes:

    The problem lies at the top of the ideological supply chain, not at the bottom. Just as uneducated, impoverished people should not bear the entire blame for buying their children a steady diet of double cheeseburgers, neither should Tea Partiers be blamed for choking down the fear sandwiches that the media feed them. Their intellectual obesity is no different from the physical obesity that afflicts their analogous brethren. Because of their value-menu ideology they cannot participate in rational dialogue any more than fast-food addicts can run a marathon. The blame lies in the corporate exploitation of those who do not have the privilege of making themselves a salad. 

    So … I try to remind myself that it is really all Glen Beck’s fault. (LOL)

     As hopeless as our challenge seems, we who want to be rational and dispassionate need calmly to engage people like the breakfast bloviator. We need to recognize their genuine fears and find at least a few points of common ground. We also need to remind them that they shouldn’t believe everything they hear on cable news and talk radio. They should be skeptical of easy answers, question everything, demand proof, and spread truth not rumor. 

      In short—as the headline to this story says—we all need to remember: opinions are not facts. 

Opinions Are Not Facts

Part One

“Opinions are not facts” is part of my personal creed. I met someone the other day who reminded me why that is.

We shared a breakfast table, and when he learned what I do in my work he started grousing about “Obamacare”—

It’s going to be a disaster. The feds have no business taking over healthcare. It’s unconstitutional. Healthcare is not interstate commerce. It should be left to the states. The Tenth Amendment says so.

Have you read the law?

No.

Well I have. I have a copy of it on my desk. I’ve studied it, written about it. Did you know that 39 pages of it are devoted to state flexibility in creating new programs for the uninsured?

No, but …

Did you know that there are more than 25 sections, scores of pages, devoted to state-based demonstration programs?

No.

What about state-based pilot projects? Assistance to states for medical student loans? Funding to expand state centers for the aging? Grants to states to improve the health care workforce? Or state alternatives to malpractice lawsuits?

No, but the Federal Government [he pronounced it such that I could practically hear those capital letters] has no business running healthcare.

Oh? When you were in the Navy in WWII you were part of the military medical system, which is “single payer” and run by the government. In other words, it is socialized medicine. You didn’t mind that did you?

No, but I…

And what about Medicare? You’re a Medicare beneficiary, aren’t you?

Yes, but …

And you still get to choose your doctor, even though Medicare pays the bill, right?

Right, but [raising his voice] what Obama is doing is a liberal power grab!

At this point I expected him to start yelling: “Give me my country back!” So, in the face of intractable ignorance, and certain that facts had no place in this gentleman’s thought process, I excused myself. I wanted to say that we could continue this discussion when he was better informed, but I didn’t. The fact is he will never be better informed. He will just remain an angry old Tea Partier, hiding behind his comfortable delusions, uninterested in objective information, blissfully unaware that opinions are not facts.

I went away wondering: Why does anger trump logic? What ever happened to critical thinking skills?

Travels in the Web of Life

A while back I commented on how we're all part of the web of life, with wispy threads of memory and strong connections to friends and family. I renewed some of my friendships during the past ten days. As promised, here are some photos from those recent travels. No profound musings accompany them, just a few random thoughts.

   First, I went "shunpiking" through northeast Georgia to Brevard, North Carolina where I tracked down and surprised former Orlando neighbor Pete Hurt. It was he who painted the violin picture we displayed at Dad's memorial service and which hangs proudly in my home office. (See post of August 16.) These were some views along the way:

Pawn shops, gun shops, pickup trucks, and winding mountain roads are among my most vivid impressions. I kept imagining I that I was hearing "Dueling Banjos." And some of the scenery along the Blue Ridge Parkway in NC was beautiful:

   In Winchester, KY I saw friends Ron and Bart (also erstwhile Orlando residents) and in Louisville joined in the 40th birthday festivities of former student Brian Doheny. He and his wife and small son (who is now in college) were neighbors in St. Louis 15 years ago. Thank goodness I was only 32 at the time or I would have felt really old at the party.

   As nice as the weather was in NC and TN, it was stunning in the Bluegrass state. This shot of the Hillerich & Bradsby (baseball bat) factory in downtown Louisville and the view of the Ohio River attest to that fact. Where I was standing to take the river picture is as close to the Hoosier State as I've been in a long time. It seemed kinda strange not to cross the bridge and sing, "Back home again, in Indiana..."

   As I compose this I'm struck by how few pictures I take of people, misanthrope that I am. 

This is the only decent one of Brian--he's lighting one of the scores of candles they had burning that night. I got none of Pete (forgot and left the camera in the car) and due to lighting issues none of the ones with Ron and Bart turned out at all. Sorry...  

...here's Ron and Bart's house, though. It's more than 100 years old, sturdy and charming.

After getting home last Sunday (9/26), I turned around Thursday and went to Warm Springs, GA to see FDR's "Little White House" and reconnect with Fla. Hosp. Assn. friends who come up every year to stay in a nearby cabin and "count cows" (their metaphor for doing nothing). They wouldn't let me take their pics, but here's my friend's cabin, followed by FDR's place. The unfinished portrait is the one that was being painted of him in the Little White House when he had his fatal stroke. It remains as it was in at the moment of his death.

    These trips and the friendships they refreshed prompted me to dig out and re-read one of Emerson's essays, the one in which he wrote "the only way to have a friend is to be one." I thank the folks I visited on these sojourns; I thank them for their hospitality; I thank them for their kindnesses; I thank them for letting me be their friend.

    At the start of that same essay Emerson also wrote: "Maugre [notwithstanding] all the selfishness that chills like east winds the world, the whole human family is bathed with an element of love like a fine ether."

    Would that the whole world, bathed in that fine ether, could remember those words more often.

-----

    Oh, one more thing that I almost forgot....

... somewhere along the way there was this guy. He wants to take his country back. (To where I'm not sure.) When I told him what kind of work I do, he said he wants no part of Obama's socialized medicine, then added, "And he'd better keep his hands off my Medicare too!"

(Spoken like a true, informed patriot.)

:-)