Category: blog

  • Dust Motes

    Cleaning my office, which serves double duty as a guest room.  We have company coming in this weekend and that’s always a good excuse to clean up.

    So while I’m moving things around, listening to very loud music (Deep Purple, Who Do We Think We Are? which I think is one of the great underappreciated rock’n’roll albums of all time), thoughts are buzzing around my head.

    Already this morning I posted a response to someone on a group discussing Science vs Religion—a topic fraught with the potential for all kinds of angsty in-your-face defensiveness—wherein I once more found myself in the position of turning an argument around on someone who had decided that I had insulted him by insisting on evidence and common sense and the practice of looking at alternative explanations that might undercut a cherished experience.  In this case, we were discussing ghosts.  When I pointed out that the described experience fit well with what is known as hypnogogic hallucination, I was summarily told that if I said that to the experiencer’s face, I’d likely get a kick in the groin.  Hardly a mature response.

    But then it went on to question why someone like me—a materialist—can’t just stop being insulting by insisting that what people experience is explicable in material terms.  It never seems to occur to some people that every time they tell me that I need Jesus or that I’m bound for hell or that my life must be empty and meaningless because I don’t believe in god, that they are being insulting to me.  Built into this level of religiosity is the automatic assumption that they’re right and I’m wrong and that’s the end of it.  They don’t see this as hubris or arrogance because it comes from, they believe, an outside source—god or whatever—and that all they’re doing is conveying the message.

    Well, sorry.  We can all be arrogant on someone else’s behalf and beg off the charge of arrogance because we’re just the messenger.  Displacing responsibility for being rude and offensive is a handy dodge—oh, it’s not me, it’s The Lord’s word!—but the fact remains, you choose to hand out the insult.  That you don’t see it that way is forgivable until it has been pointed out to you how it’s insulting.  After that, you’re just being an ass about it.

    This is not to say people can’t discuss this without being insulting.  I have a few friends who are devout believers and we often bandy the philosophy without ever getting personal or insulting.  I have to say, though, that without those few people who are demonstrably intelligent about the subject, I would probably categorize all such folks as raving loonies with poor social skills.

    To be fair, I know some atheists who are just as offensive.  And while I can understand where it comes from, it never wins any points.

    I try—and I’m only human, so lapses occur—ardently to deal with the subject, not the individual.  There does come a point when the question arises “Why do you believe this stuff?” and it does veer off into the personal.  But it’s the ideas I criticize, not the people.

    Unless by acting upon their beliefs they cause harm.  Then I get personal.  Boy, do I get personal!

    Insulated religious communities, such as some of the splinter Mormon sects who practice polygamy, as far as I’m concerned, are deluded.  Not because they believe in god, but because they feel that belief gives them leave to treat certain people like shit.  Mainly women, whom they view as property.  These little pockets are, for all intents and purposes, little feudal kingdoms with one or a few men at the top dictating to the rest.  I understand the leaders well enough—no matter how they couch their justifications, they are power-hungry bigots who’ve figured out how to feed their addictions.  What I fail repeatedly to understand are all the others who follow them.  What drives someone to surrender their conscience, their will, their choices to be ruled over by a self-serving tyrant?  Unless they like the arrangement they have within the hierarchy, which then makes it just as self-serving to follow, and becomes collusive.  Because it’s a top down, tiered society, and there always seems to be somebody lower down, ending finally with the women and the children, who end up having no say.  The ties that bind are like electrical lines dispersing power.

    We’re watching a wonderful thing happen in Egypt.  Democracy might break out in one of the most populous countries on the planet.  They have validated the dictum that people allow themselves to be ruled, that all the power a tyrant has is only what the people give him.  Ultimately, this is true.  The question is always, how abusive do things have to get before the people have had enough.

    It’s the next stage that’s worrisome.  The Muslim Brotherhood is waiting in the wings, no doubt, for an opportunity to establish Sha’ria law.  Once that happens, democracy is done.  Sha’ria is autocratic, brooks no debate, and is not amenable to differences of opinion that stray too far—like, for instance, equal rights for women.

    Yet to oppress the Muslim Brotherhood is also wrong.  That’s part of what has ultimately undone Mubarak.  It’s hard.  Even here we have to relearn that lesson periodically, that just because we disagree with someone and that someone is disagreeable, we don’t have the right to suppress or oppress them.  It’s more detrimental in the long run to force someone to shut up than any damage they can do by speaking their piece.

    If Egypt transforms in the next year into a genuine secular democracy, then we may begin to see the entire Middle East take the same steps.  Iran would likely be the next one, and in that instance it would be a transformation 30 years overdue, since after ousting the Shah that’s where they were heading.  Within a year, the clerics assumed full authority and democracy in any practical sense was gone.  They were able to do this because no one wanted to defy people speaking for god.  Once you hoist that banner, people get chary of challenging your authority, because they might be challenging god.

    That is the harm in such beliefs.  I won’t deny much good comes from religion, but in so many instances the tenets of religions have predisposed people to support autocracy, tyranny, and act counter to their own best interests.  The assumption that a given leader is speaking for god and therefore must be telling the truth or could not do anything against the good is naive.  By the time everyone figures out that he’s just using the people’s credulity to gain power, it can be too late.

    None of which has any bearing on the truth of the basic assertions.  Whether there is a god or not has absolutely nothing to do with what I’m describing.  What it does have to do with is whether or not one is willing to set that aside in matters of public policy, wherein any use of religion often ends up being a cynical ploy to obtain power or enact laws that may not be for the best.

    Anyway, such are the kinds of things that flit through my mind while I’m cleaning up.  Dust motes dancing over synapses. Time for another side of rock’n’roll.

  • A Little Bit About Writing

    I’ve been nattering on about politics and related matters for a while now.  It’s crazy-making because no matter how much sense you might make, or think you’re making, there are a lot of people who basically say “I don’t care, I want it my way!” and ignore everything else.

    So I thought I’d talk about writing.

    I’ve had a hell of a week in that regard.  Let me explain.

    Many folks already know that I had a major (I thought) computer issue earlier this week.  It happened this way.  During the really cold months of winter, rather than turn on the space heater I have in my office, I move my writing upstairs, on a laptop.  The change of venue often kicks loose some ideas, it’s a bit sunnier, and we save on the electric bill.  No real inconvenience, I basically save my work to a floppy (yes, a 3.5 inch floppy, Virginia, they are still made) and carry the floppy back downstairs to transfer the file to my main computer when the story is ready to either print out or submit, at which point I save it to the main hard drive and my handy external hard drive.  So a given file, in this scenario, is saved in four places.

    Monday morning was a perfect storm, so to speak.  I’d been working on a novella for about three weeks, a major rewrite, with someone waiting for it, and I finished it Sunday.  Monday morning, early, I made a couple of last-minute grace note touches, saved the final to the floppy, then told the laptop to save it all to its hard drive.  I took the floppy downstairs for the transfer.

    First problem.  Cannot open file.  The disc is corrupted.  I tried a couple of things, but no go.  So I grab a clean floppy, head back upstairs to make a new copy, only to find on arrival that the laptop is dead.  Inert.  A few pounds of useless plastic.

    Now, this is an ancient laptop, as these things go.  It was a gift from a friend to begin with and I use it seldom, although I have written most of two whole novels on it.  (When our first dog, Kory, was dying, I wrote my one and only Terminator novel on it in the living room, next to her, to keep her company.  I know, multiple ironies in that.)  It wasn’t new when I got it—it had Windows 95 on it—but it’s had a cushy life and hasn’t given me any trouble.  Till now.

    Panic, as they say, ensued.  After several more attempts to open that damn file, I resorted to profanity and insane rage against a universe that seemed out to get me.

    I posted my problem on Facebook and got the first of many bright glimmers.  People gave advice (although a lot of it centered around saving my work online, which requires technology I do not have with that particular laptop—it’s not connected or, in any practical sense, connectable), condolences, etc.  (Thank you all again, it was very kind and I needed the chin up boost.)

    A couple of friends called to offer their services.  Suggestions were made to call the Geek Squad.

    I called the Geek Squad, but the $300.00 service call fee stymied me.  I simply don’t have that kind of money just now to spend on spec, on a story that might not sell in the first place, etc.  And we are talking about one story.  Everything else was backed up.

    One friend offered to unship the hard drive and see about transferring its contents to another P.C.  I was set to do this—I would have dropped it off tonight—when another friend called to discuss it and made a simple suggestion.  “Did you pull the battery?”

    “It’s been plugged into the wall all this time, what difference would that make?”

    “Well, most laptops boot from the battery, even if they are hooked to AC.  Pull the battery and it might boot directly from AC.”

    I pulled the battery.  The thing came right back on.  Problem solved.  (Thanks again to Justin Olson.)

    I have two typewriters in the house.  I have my original Remington Noiseless and I have an IBM Selectric, which needs minor repair (which I now intend to get).  I can go right back to the so-called stone age if I feel I must, even though more and more markets are going to strictly email submissions.  But on paper, typed out, I only have to worry about fire or flood to lose the manuscript.

    However, I won’t go that far yet.

    So yesterday, I went back to the gym for the first time in two weeks (working steadily on that novella, in the groove, skipping all nonessential activity) and came home intending to get ready for the next story, and I get a rejection in the mail.  Snail mail, yes, from one of the few magazines still doing it the old fashioned way.  I had submitted the problem novella the day before, so I had made my goal of getting it finished and out the door before another rejection came in.

    Now I am sitting here procrastinating by writing this.  I have a piece of fiction upstairs that has been through three complete drafts already and I am about to gut it totally and do it from a completely different character’s point of view.  Why?  Because it hasn’t been working.  It doesn’t sing, it can’t dance, even though all the parts are there.  It is not wonderful.

    Two things when a story does this—either you have begun it in the wrong place or you are telling it from the wrong perspective.  The first is tactical.  The second is psychological.

    The most dramatic approach to story includes telling it from the perspective of the one or ones who have the most to lose.  The ones who are in the greatest danger, the ones risking the most, the ones who by virtue of just showing up will be in the heart of the conflict because the conflict is theirs.  This is hard to do.  It’s natural to avoid pain and discomfort and writers are no different, so often we pick a main character who is safe or at least safer than the others.  There’s a comfort about this character not getting badly hurt.  But it makes for flaccid fiction.

    So all week, given the mood I was in, I’ve been thinking about this story as it has been written and trying to find a way to make the main character really hurt.  And everything I come up with feels like artifice.

    This morning I wrote the first line from the viewpoint of another character.  The one who really has the most to lose.

    I then came here to write this, because I can already sense the knots I’m about to twist my psyche into writing about this guy.  And I’m avoiding—

    What?  Pain?  Not mine.  His?  Well…

    It’s kind of like bungee jumping.  You know it’s going to be exhilarating, but bringing yourself to take that first step can be very difficult.  Stepping off into nothing, trusting that the way down will bring you what you want—that’s counter intuitive.  Hell, that’s scary.

    But once you step off…

    Time to go back to the edge.

  • Arrogance

    We all use words sometimes in ways not intended.  We don’t, after all, have a dictionary to hand in every conversation and memory plays tricks, not to mention there is always some “drift” in common usage that’s culturally-driven.  Often it’s just sloppiness that becomes wired into daily use and when we go back to the dictionary it’s occasionally a surprise to find out that what we thought a word meant isn’t really what it means at all.

    Sometimes, though, it’s the right word applied to the wrong circumstance or a label correctly remembered but used for the wrong reason.

    Arrogance is one of the biggies.  I looked it up this morning in the dictionary—the Websters Compact Desk Dictionary of the American Language, a book I’ve owned since about sixth grade.  It says:

    “Arrogant—adj. [see ARROGATE], full of or due to unwarranted pride; haughty.”

    The telling word there, I think, is “unwarranted.”  But that’s not how the word is used usually.  Most often, we see it applied in situations where someone feels they have been put down by someone displaying an uncomfortable opinion, superior information, confidence, or making a general statement about things the user feels is intended as a personal judgment against them.  Manner is important, and anything short of self-deprecating kind of visible humility can be taken as sure sign of arrogance.  What is said is less important than whether it contradicts common prejudice or simply a personal belief, and in this situation the term becomes an ad hominem attack—the information being conveyed is thereby discounted because the person giving it is arrogant and therefore need not be listened to.

    Often this is a tactic, a way to discount something disagreeable.  If the person talking can be made to appear self-serving or bullying or ignorant, what he or she says can be safely ignored because it doesn’t actually mean anything.  It’s a defensive posture, accusing someone of being arrogant.  It puts the emphasis on establishing something that has nothing to do with whatever debate brought the accusation about, wastes time, distracts, and often says more about the accuser than the accused.

    The difficulty of defending one’s self from a charge of arrogance is part of the reason it can be an effective dodge.  Now we’re talking character references, examples of past behavior, and an endless definitional conversation about just what that means.  Is someone arrogant because they stand on principles, never bowing to counterarguments?  Maybe.  It depends on the issue and whether or not all that’s being argued is an unsupported principle.  If, however, there is weight to the principled position, evidence, experience, associated support…if the principle is something that has been shown to work in action and not just a matter of opinion…

    See the problem?  It’s been used too often to derail legitimate dialogues about serious issues.  Take for instance education.  We’re having a national debate among several states on a relatively low level about what to include in science curriculum (yes, I’m talking about evolution).  There is a faction opposed to its inclusion, and in order to get their way they have been forced to be devious—assertions that we should “teach the controversy”— which run aground on the fact that there is no controversy in the science, only in the politics.  But a tactic used repeatedly in public debate is, when a scientist, someone who knows the subject, states that something like Intelligent Design is not science, at some point a charge of arrogance is made.  “You scientists are so arrogant, you think you know everything.”  Or some such phrase.

    This, for the lay public, can be a huge distraction.  Because now the scientist has to defend against a personal attack, which has nothing to do with the merits of the argument.  What it is, basically, is an admission that the one making the accusation has run out of anything useful to say.

    The fact is, a charge of arrogance is one of those things best left for historians or for private arguments.  it’s interpersonal, complex, and irrelevant.  Someone can be arrogant as Napoleon and still be demonstrably wrong—or right.  More likely, the one making the charge is the one being arrogant, because they have assumed their rightness regardless of the elements of the argument, and have either not bothered to learn the details or have dismissed such details because they contradict a cherished belief.  Either way, they elevate their personal belief above all other factors and anyone who stands in the way of making that personal belief paramount must, a priori, be wrong.  And if they are wrong and still arguing their point, they must be arrogant.  Hmm.  Got a mirror?

    Ultimately, the charge of arrogance is used by people who feel their own beliefs and opinions are not being given due respect.  They are, possibly, being ignored.  Or they feel they’ve been identified in a way they reject, even though their position may be as wrongheaded as a Flat Earther.

    But, tempting as it is to then label such people themselves as arrogant, it serves no purpose to make the same countercharge.  Often, if arrogance is involved, it’s “borrowed” arrogance.  It’s not a personal arrogance, but an aspect of the opinion or belief they hold, and as such personal arrogance gets displaced onto the source.  Otherwise modest, humble people can come across as arrogant because they are not, by their lights, speaking for themselves, but for this set of ideas.

    Which brings us right back to the pointlessness of the charge.  Recall the definition:

    full of or due to unwarranted pride; haughty

    The operative word is “unwarranted” and that leads us right back into the dialogue to determine what is unwarranted.  To do that, it’s necessary to concentrate on the topic, not take side trips into personality.  We might all do well to bear that in mind.  We might get farther and understand more.  I believe most people are capable of understanding a lot more than they’re given credit for—even what they believe themselves capable.

    Of course, that may be an unwarranted assumption.  Is it arrogant of me then to think people can do better?

  • That Book Is Finished…2010

    I read, cover-to-cover, 72 books in 2010.  I’ve read more in other years and considerably less in still others.  It’s an average of six books a month, which, given all the other stuff I read (and write) is a fair amount.

    The last one was Ian McDonald’s River of Gods, which I’d been putting off.  I love Ian McDonald’s work, but I am way behind.  I, at least, cannot read him quickly.  His lines are such that require attention, appreciation.  I have half a dozen others on my shelf to get to.

    Among others of note, I read Michael Chabon’s Kavalier and Clay,  which so wonderfully captures the essence of an age that I can’t recommend it too strongly, especially to all those mothers poised to toss out their children’s comic book collection when they aren’t looking (although such parents might be disappearing by now).  I also finally got around to reading Connie Willis’s  Doomsday Book, which can be heart-rending.

    I found an obscure book called Faust In Copenhagen  by Gino Segri, which recounts the history of the physicists gathering at Neils Bohr’s house before WWII, and explores the relationships between the 20th Centuries greatest physicists.

    It was a big year for mysteries.  I read a string of Ross McDonald, who I consider an underappreciated master—all the strengths of both Hammett and Chandler, few of the weaknesses.  Laurie R. King and Rex Stout.  I read a few older SF novels I’d either never picked up or had forgotten.

    Oh, yes, and the brand new biography of Robert A. Heinlein by William Patterson.  Not to be missed.

    2010 was also the year I decided to reread all of Dickens.  Didn’t make a huge way through, but I will be continuing that in 2011.

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    2011 will probably be an apparently low reading rate year.  I intend to read some very fat books waiting for me.  I have two large Thomas Pynchon novels I want to get through, more Dickens, the newest Iain M. Banks, and I have some large history books I need to get through.  (Right now, though, I’m reading a Cara Black mystery, Murder on the Isle de St. Louis—so much for fatness.)

    I also have a couple of my own novels to finish, so that will require research, especially for the second book of my alternate history.  I’m going to have to schedule things carefully as I may find myself back in day job la-la-land.

    Anyway, I hope everyone had a safe and happy New Year’s party last night and that 2011 will be magnificent for everyone.

  • Thoughts On The End of 2010

    I may start doing this every year.  I’ve been trying to write some posts about some of the more recent events in politics, but I keep following my arguments into a kind of WTF cul-de-sac.  Watching the last four months has been amazing.  Not in a good way.  Just dumbfounding by any measure.  So maybe it will work better if I just do a summary of my impressions of what has happened this past year.

    I think I’ll say little about my personal situation.  It is what it is.  Like many people, the upside is hard to find.  To reiterate what I said a couple posts back, though, I am not in dire straits.  Uncomfortable, but not desperate.

    I should remark on the Lame Duck Congress Marathon of Epic Legislation.  I can’t help being impressed.  Obama said he wanted Congress to do with Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, to repeal it legislatively, and not have it end up as a court-mandated order.  I can understand this, especially given the rightward shift of the judiciary.  But the way in which he went about it seemed doomed and certainly angered a lot of people who thought he was breaking a campaign promise.  (The puzzling lunacy of his own justice department challenging a court-led effort must have looked like one more instance of Obama backing off from what he’d said he was going to do.)  I am a bit astonished that he got his way.

    A great deal of the apparent confusion over Obama’s actions could stem from his seeming insistence that Congress do the heavy lifting for much of his agenda.  And while there’s a lot to be said for going this route, what’s troubling is his failure to effectively use the bully pulpit in his own causes.  And the fact that he has fallen short on much.   It would be, perhaps, reassuring to think that his strategy is something well-considered, that things the public knows little about will come to fruition by, say, his second term.

    (Will he have a second term?  Unless Republicans can front someone with more brains and less novelty than a Sarah Palin and more weight than a Mitt Romney, probably.  I have seen no one among the GOP ranks who looks even remotely electable.  The thing that might snuff Obama’s chances would be a challenge from the Democrats themselves, but that would require a show of conviction the party has been unwilling overall to muster.)

    The Crash of 2008 caused a panic of identity.  Unemployment had been creeping upward prior to that due to a number of factors, not least of which is the chronic outsourcing that has become, hand-in-glove, as derided a practice as CEO compensation packages and “golden parachutes,” and just as protected in practice by a persistent nostalgia that refuses to consider practical solutions that might result in actual interventions in the way we do business.  No one wants the jobs to go overseas but no one wants to impose protectionist policies on companies that outsource.  Just as no one likes the fact that top management is absurdly paid for jobs apparently done better 40 years ago by people drawing a tenth the amount, but no one wants to impose corrective policies that might curtail what amounts to corporate pillage.  It is the nostalgia for an America everyone believes once existed that functioned by the good will of its custodians and did not require laws to force people to do the morally right thing.  After a couple decades of hearing the refrain “You can’t legislate morality” it has finally sunk in but for the wrong segment of social practice.

    I don’t believe the country was ever run by people of significantly higher moral purpose.  There have always been two courts along those lines, one comprised of those who know how to aggressively and successfully capitalize and those who set policy and take care of the interests of those who are not so inclined or skilled at the art of fiscal rape.  The business sector, while it would like to see itself as made up of morally-inclined people, has always been willing to greater or lesser degrees to ignore moral principle if it became too costly.  They were blocked in practice by those in the other camp, who were able to do what they did because the country, frankly, was flush enough to afford principles.

    That’s the story, anyway.  A bit facile, though there are elements of truth in it.  One thing the Left has always been a bit chary of admitting is how big a role affluence plays in the policies it would prefer to see in place.  One of the reasons communism always fails historically (just one—I stipulate that there are many reasons communism fails) is that it emerges victorious in poor countries that simply can’t sustain it in any “pure” form.  (Russia included.  While Russia may be materially rich in resources and potential, it was poorly run, horribly inefficient at any kind of wide distribution, and structurally backward.  Marx, for his part, believed Russia one of the worst places to start his “workers’ revolution.”  He preferred Germany and, yes, the United States.)  This may be why we are so reflexively frightened of communism and its cousin, socialism—all the examples of it we have seen in practice are examples of destitute people, a destroyed middle class and elite stripped of all the material prosperity we value, replaced by a cadre of comfortable bureaucrats.  (It suggests that communism is an unlikely system for “raising” standards of living, but might be applicable once a certain level is achieved.  This presumes, of course, the other problems with it are solvable.)

    At a gathering recently, amid the conversation about all the other ills of the planet, I heard the declaration (again) that we are in a post capitalist world.  And I thought (and subsequently said),  no, we’re not.  Because its natural successor has not emerged.  We’re right in the middle of a capitalist world.

    The economic history of the 20th Century can be summed up as a contest between two ideas—collectivism and capitalism.  Around the fringes of both systems, hybrids developed.  It became clear in the 1930s that capitalism is deeply flawed and requires management, not of the sort supposedly provided by The Market, but of the sort provided by an enlightened social structure that can put the brakes on excesses.  Communism, it can be equally argued, gave up on any attempt to institute Marxist methodology, opting for a form of autocratic collectivism that lumbered along like a drunk troll for most of the century, never achieving much of anything for the so-called Masses.  If the best one could say of the Soviet Union through all that time was that the people were better off than they had been under the Czars, that frankly isn’t saying much.  While true, it begs the question why it couldn’t do better than the West.

    It could also be argued that during the period between 1930 and the eventual collapse of the Soviet Union, we managed our system in such a way as to guarantee a viable counterexample to the soviet system.  Which meant a growing, prospering middle class and progressively more inclusive social justice.  Civil Rights progressed as much from the self-evident morality of its assertions as from a profoundly uncomfortable recognition that apartheid systems are too easily compared to what happened in Nazi Germany and continued at a lower activity throughout the world to any and all minority groups.  To show ourselves superior to Them, we couldn’t countenance separate but equal nonsense, so there was movement on both extremes—the street and the halls of power.

    With the end of the Soviet Union, there was a sharp understanding (valid or not) that on some level “we” had won.  Our system proved superior.  We were “better” than they were, at least ideologically.

    Which apparently for a certain sector meant we could stop fooling around with all these hybrid systems that utilized partial socialist controls and put roadblocks in the way of capitalist excess.  Victory meant the aspect that seemed to make us superior would work even better if we stopped pretending we needed regulations.  If the rest of the world would just adopt our system, everyone would be better off.  We shouldn’t confuse the issue with concessions to non-capitalist ideas.

    (You can kind of see this in the Reagan years.  It’s obvious in hindsight with the increased spending in military R & D and the 600 ship navy and the development of other technologies under DoD auspices, that the Reagan philosophy—tactic, I should say—was to spend the bastards into penury.  There is ample evidence that this is exactly what happened.  We forced the Soviet Union to respond with their own increased spending, and this exposed their systemic weakness.  While our military spending has rarely gotten anywhere near 10% of GDP, the Soviet Union was never under it.  Indeed, toward the end, they were spending more than 30% of GDP on the military, a crushing burden, wholly unsustainable.  When all their best tech was brushed aside in the first Iraq War, it must have demoralized them profoundly.  The collapse came shortly thereafter.)

    Since Reagan we have seen a consistent, grinding war on anything that does not support a strictly market-based capitalist methodology.  It has now reached the point where we seem to be cannibalizing our own efforts at social justice in order to fuel an expanding private sector frenzy for…

    For what?  An expanding private sector frenzy for an expanding private sector?  Acquisitiveness for the sake of acquisitiveness?  It appears sometimes that we are laying up stores of wealth as if preparing for a siege.  But a siege against what?

    There are (arguably) two things that have made the United States a model to be emulated.  Aside from all the other ideas that inform our sense of national identity, two concrete notions have been at the heart of our success as a country.  The first is an idea of social equality.  In spite of the suspicions many of the Founders had toward the masses, they embraced a basic belief that individuals are not innately better or worse than each other.  This was, of course, an Enlightenment-inspired denial of aristocracies, that birth plays no part in individual merit.  Even though this idea was unevenly applied and took couple of centuries to manifest for a majority, it was there from the beginning.  The people had to live up to the idea, which is usually how such things transpire.  It was a powerful idea and would have come to little if not for the second idea, which is that we are entitled to be safe in our property.  That no one may take what we legally possess away arbitrarily and we have a right to defend our belongings in court and by legislation.  This has allowed for the eventual development of a large and politically powerful middle class which, to greater or lesser degrees, is socially porous, largely because of the first idea.  (Even in the worst days of segregation there have been wealthy blacks, and often in sufficient numbers to constitute a parallel middle class and entrepreneurial resource.)

    In fits and starts, this has worked well for us over two hundred plus years.  Not without cost, though.  Such as those times when the two ideas turn on each other and conflict.

    This has not been the only period when that has happened.  Our history is strewn with the corpses of such conflicts.  We have see-sawed back and forth between them.  Usually the property side of the conflict wins.  When the equality side wins, though, the gains are amazing.

    So what about 2010?

    It would seem to be a mixed bag, tilted (naturally) toward the property side.  But then the last-minute repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell would seem to be a check in the justice column.  Overall, the deployment of forces seem clear enough, and the skirmishes have taken tolls on both sides. But what’s the goal?  What, in the parlance of wartime diplomats and theorists, does victory look like?

    Globalization has brought about a fundamental shift in corporate culture, at least in the United States, which has made explicit what had always been potential and implicit at a certain level, namely that capitalist endeavor is not patriotic.  The foregoing of as much profit as possible is not consistent with nationalist sympathies and although I’m sure many an entrepreneur would like to think otherwise, the track record since Reagan has been clearly in the other direction.  The outsourcing of American jobs alone should serve as example for this.

    What has risen in place of substantial people doing the right thing for their country even if it costs them is a severe kind of quasi-religious patriotic substitute which at base serves to tell those who are paying the cost of this fact that it is their  patriotic duty to “man up” and live with it and to vote largely against their own self-interest in order to preserve a distorted idea of Americanism.  We have seen a resurgence of a social Darwinism that was never valid and lost ground during the heyday of middle class enlightenment in the post World War II booms.  The G.I. Bill underwrote a massive educational effort that gave people who never before had access the intellectual tools to recognize nonsense when they saw it and act against the norm, pushing back at the major corporations and a business ethic that required servitude rather than equitable participation on the part of the labor force.  Two things have worked to undo those gains.  The first was the matriculation of those very middle class successes into the positions of power that traditionally would have kept them out and over time they have become the people they once worked against.  The other has been a severe and consistent gutting of liberal education.

    At the aforementioned party there were gathered a number of academics.  I heard a lot of complaining about cutbacks and one in particular was going on about how her department was under siege.  One need not look far to see that universities and colleges are all scrambling for funding and a lot of what seems to be on the chopping block are courses that fall under the classical liberal arts.  If the course is not geared toward making a buck for the student immediately upon graduation, the sentiment seems to run, then what good is it?

    But it’s not just that.  Even legislatively we have seen assaults on the sciences.  The most recent is this from Oklahoma.  State Senator Josh Brecheen has introduced legislation to force Creationism to be taught in public schools, claiming that in the interest of teaching science “fully” all viewpoints should be taught or both should be removed.  This is hardly the first of these, nor will it be the last, but it shows a clear trend that is profoundly anti-intellectual, consistent with a tradition is America that derides education and promotes a faith-based approach to the world.  By faith-based I do not mean necessarily religious, although that is certainly a large part of it.  No, I mean a kind of fatalistic nationalism that suggests that simply because we are who we are we need nothing more.  Americans are just naturally superior.  In this model, education—too much education—erodes that essential nature and renders us susceptible to all manner of non-American ideas.

    There is a fundamental idiocy in this attitude.  It also seems counter to every other aspect of essential Americanism, basically that one never settles, that more is always preferable, that excess is the basis for sufficiency.  How does less education square with any of this?

    Back in the heyday of the great Red Scares, a political tactic evolved that equated intellectualism—mainly academic intellectualism—with Marxism and thus rendered learning suspect.  Certainly learning has a leftist character, Liberalism being an apparent property of education.  While this is not true in the specific (I defy anyone to make the case that William F. Buckley was uneducated, anti-intellectual, or even provincial), it does seem that the Right is represented by a less-than-stellar cadre of the intellectually challenged.  The spokespeople for the Tea Party are a singularly deficient lot, not least of which is Sarah Palin, who manages to declare her contempt for the intellect every time she makes an utterance.  The majority of frontline assailants on education are all self-styled conservatives and the debacle of school board absurdities and text book crisis sometimes seems to spring wholly from Texas and its consistent statements of solidarity with grassroots stupidity.

    It is more difficult to generalize when one knows more about a subject.  Ignorance is the benefactor of bigotry, stereotyping, and ideological myopia.  To preserve their hegemony over what they perceive as the true American landscape, it behooves the Right to curtail education wherever possible.

    Why?  How does this make any kind of sense?

    It makes sense in exactly the same way that the marrow-deep rejection of Evolution by many among this same group makes sense, as a way of denying change.  To freeze an essential identity in amber seems all important.  To draw a circle around a set of defining characteristics and say “this is what it means to be an American” seems the chief aim of the new nativists.  And anyone who doesn’t fit within those definitions or challenges their patriotic relevance is to be cast out, cut off, rendered mute.  That would be anyone who might suggest business as usual has to change.

    I see this as a long arc of historical trending.  After World War II, the United States was in an enviable position as a kind of savior of civilization.  We were the envy of much of the world, even if much of the world resented us and denied that it very much wanted to be us.  As long as there was a clear enemy—the Soviet Union and a perceived threat of encroaching communism—we maintained an identity for ourselves that acted as a kind of ideological and social glue.  Whatever else we may disagree with among ourselves, we knew we didn’t want to be Them.

    But that’s gone now.  The decade of the 1990s was a period of adjustment.  There were problems, but not the kind of iconic Good vs. Evil paradigms that had driven us for half a century.  It was a time when we should have realized that what we needed to do was learn to manage, not dominate.  And in order to do that effectively, we had to open our minds to wider understanding.

    Which, of course, let in all manner of ideas and influences that are Not American.

    2010, it seems, was a year in which the lineaments of the coming conflict were more clearly defined.  Issues over immigration, secrecy, taxation, distribution of wealth, and civil rights are played a part across the battlefield.  Overshadowing all else, though, is the financial crisis and the unemployment rate.  Congress was blamed for not fixing it, but really, what could they do?  Even if Obama had stood firm about the Bush tax cuts and forced Congress to let them expire on the wealthy, exactly what would that have done for the employment problem?  The Republicans keep saying that tax cuts fuel investment, but in the last 30 years we have not seen that to be the case, at least not in terms of people.  That extra money finds its way into dividend checks and off-shore accounts, not in higher employment.  The other claim is that small business is the real generator of higher employment and that seems to be true, so how does that square with cutting taxes on the top two percent?  It doesn’t.  This is a class issue.  That extra tax revenue would go toward paying down the deficit, but it would likely not add a single job.

    There is a savage equation in business.  A company has little control over most of the expenses incurred—rent, material, energy, all that is fairly rigidly fixed.  The only expense where most businesses have any kind of flexibility is labor.  Either cut salaries or cut numbers of employees.  For small to medium-sized businesses, this is a fairly straightforward calculus—one employee equals salary plus maybe health benefits and the concomitant taxes.  For larger firms, it’s more complicated—one employee equals salary plus health benefits plus ancillary insurance benefits plus retirement package plus bonus packages plus ancillary taxes.  It’s a larger sum at a certain level.  (Consider auto workers, who may have been making upwards of 60K in salary, but received an addition 50 to 70K in perks, pension promises, etc.)  Outsourcing to compete globally becomes a matter of serious money.  Even if you take away the egregious compensation packages for upper management, these numbers remain and they are a real concern.

    This a direct result, however, of the kind of civilization we run.  We are a consumer culture.  The More More More demand to keep the economy expanding has resulted in exactly this kind of problem.  In order to provide the goods that fuel that growth at a cost people can afford, costs of manufacturing must be kept down.  But we’ve been buying the whole world’s production at some level for 50 years now and in order for us to have the money to keep doing that, we have to derive income from somewhere that enables us to maintain, and if the world cannot afford what we make or offer…

    Which does not, of course, justify the pillage of American industry that we have seen take place or the obscene transfers of wealth from the public sector to private hands.  This has all been done in the name of self-preservation by those who, as I suggested at the beginning of this, are no longer able to afford their otherwise self-proclaimed patriotism.  They have somehow defined themselves as America and for all the rest of us?  Well, we are welcome to make our own fortunes if we can, but they are removing their sense of responsibility from us.

    Before I go on, one other number must be added to the above calculus.  The Census has just come out. We have almost 309 million people here now.  By comparison, in 1970 there were a bit over 203 million.  I chose 1970 because that was a year in which one could clearly see American power and prosperity across the greatest extent of the population.  American cars were still the top sellers, American industry still the envy of the world, the American worker the highest paid, most skilled, our educational system on its way to becoming the jewel in the crown.  We had just put men on the moon, the future looked to be imminent in so many sparkling and wondrous ways, and we were experiencing a surging liberal commitment to inclusiveness.  Nixon was about to create the EPA and the NEA.  In spite of the blight of Vietnam, we were doing great.  The top 5% economically owned only 14% of the wealth.

    Add an additional hundred million people to that, all of whom have had the same expectations of increasing wealth and prosperity, and ask yourself if it is reasonable to have expected anything other than disappointment.  Numbers matter.

    The world has changed.  Easy to say, difficult to understand why that makes a difference.  In the face of everything that has changed since 1970, does it make sense to try to maintain a national identity rooted in the 1940s?

    I have some thoughts on that score, but I think I’ll save them for another post.  I will say that I do not see a slide into oblivion as inevitable.  But to prevent it will require something progressives have lacked since Reagan—a clear vision.

  • Coming Back

    We’ve been on the east side of the Mississippi often the last few weeks.  Good friends over there, and last night we had Thanksgiving Feast at the house of some very good ones.  Smoked turkey (my favorite way to have it—frankly, I’ve always found turkey a problematic bird to east, much too dry to be really tasty, but a good carrier for other flavors, so it behooves one to stuff them creatively and add spices as necessary) Brussels sprouts, potatoes, stuffing, three kinds of desert four kinds of wine, coffee, and some excellent conversation, not to mention a large, cheerful hearth with a substantial fire…ah, it was almost a Norman Rockwell moment!

    It rained and snowed most of yesterday, stopped right before we left to go over there, and had cleared up completely by the time we left, which was after midnight.  Where they live, few lights compete with the night sky, and the stars salted the dome.  We listened to Santana on the way back.  We did not overeat to the point of pain, but we were well satisfied.

    This image was not shot last night, but a week ago returning from another party with some of the same folks.  Still, I thought it was worth posting—it should go with Thanksgiving.  Life should always have great beauty for us to appreciate at least once every day.  If we’re fortunate, that beauty comes mostly from the people we call friends and lovers.  But occasionally we have to notice that which serves as backdrop.  So…

    highway-sunset-2010-copy.jpg

    Coming home on Highway 55.

  • Why I Am (Partly) Not A Conservative

    I try to ignore Glenn Beck.  I think he’s pathetic.  All he can do is whine about things he quite often doesn’t understand.  For instance, his latest peeve has to do with being bumped out of line by science fiction.  Yeah, that’s right.  Glenn Beck’s book Broke has been number 1 on Amazon for a while and it apparently got beat out finally by a science fiction anthology.

    His complaint that this is from “the left” is telling.  First off he’s trying to make it sound like some profound philosophical issue, that a science fiction collection outsold his book on Amazon.  (He also noted that the Keith Richards autobiography bumped him as well and please note the twist he gives that.)

    Why the Left?  Is science fiction a left-wing thing?  I know a lot of SF writers who style themselves right-wing, libertarian, conservative, etc.  Some of them are very good, too, and I have read some of their work with pleasure.  Unless they were writing from an overtly political stance, I found no reason to call them on their “rightishness” because they outsold another writer’s work that might have been a bit leftish.  This is just a silly complaint and displays an obsession with partisan politics or just immaturity.  This is, of course, Glenn Beck we’re talking about, who seems to find more reasons to evoke Nazi similes than any other pundit I know of and has occasionally shed tears over the abuse he sees our great country enduring from the left.

    But this is ridiculous.  Because isn’t this…I mean, Glenn, isn’t this just the free market making itself heard?  Your book can’t stay number one because that would belie the whole principle of competition you claim to believe in.  Everybody who works hard and honestly should have their shot at being number one for a little while and this anthology is a poster-child for hard work and perseverance because, well, it’s self-published!  It doesn’t even have a major (or minor) publishing house behind it!  It got there all on its own, man!  This is the flower of the free market!  David whupping Goliath’s ass!  This should make you proud!

    No, he berates it because it has to do with death or the culture of death, which he equates with left-wing politics somehow.  And for good measure drags Keith Richards into the whole death equation.

    If the Right wants to know why people on the Left or even in the Center have no patience for them, this is ample explanation.  The expression  “Get a life” comes to mind.

    I recall listening to Rush Limbaugh once trying to trash U2 on the air and managing to demonstrate his utter cluelessness and inability to deal in metaphor.  Is hyper-literalism symptomatic of right-wing thinking?  It must be, because literalism is where they get all caught up and their incompetence shows.  I listened once in complete dismay to Pat Robertson condemning the film Trainspotting for its “glorification of drugs” and I sat there dumbfounded wondering how on earth anyone could see that film as a glorification of drugs.  I remained baffled until I realized, based on a couple of other articles from fundamentalists and right-wing pundits, that in their view the mere mention of drugs, regardless of context, is glorification.  Somehow they could not see a film that takes a serious, unvarnished look at drug abuse as perhaps critical of the lifestyle.  I suppose because there was no father-figure character preaching in the film.

    But it showed me another problem.  The possibility that an audience might empathize with the characters—not approve, because clearly in the case of Trainspotting approval is virtually impossible, but understand.  These are human beings, with a problem, certainly, but human beings all the same and maybe they deserve some sympathy, some help, some understanding.

    Because understanding is not what they’re about.  They don’t want to understand —they only want to condemn that of which they disapprove.

    Upon Obama’s election and his early attempts to reach across the aisle and his calls to work together, Rush Limbaugh made a broadcast in which he declared that he did not want to understand, to cooperate, to reach across the aisle, to work together.  He flatly refused the idea that common ground could be found.  While I’m sure there are some far Left ideologues who feel the same way, I hear very little of that from most of the Left.

    Let me be clear, I’m talking about the mouthpieces here, and by extension those who fawn over them.  I’m talking about the Hannitys, the Becks, the Limbaughs, the Robertsons, the Savages.

    They have no depth.  No perspective.  They in fact seem to have no sense of proportion and certainly no grasp of anything but the plainest equations of Us versus Them.  Their comparisons are absurd and frightening, their intransigence at times borderline obscene, and the culture they would see dominant is inarticulate, graceless, and vapid.  Like their last president, W., they “don’t do nuance” and it shows.

    I can deal with conservatism.  I can even sympathize with some of it and agree with certain aims.  We spend too much, often regulations seem arbitrary and ill-conceived, and the tax structure is a Rube Goldberg agglomeration of bad compromises, loopholes, and penalties badly in need of revision.

    I cannot deal with humorless, puddle-deep, anti-intellectual, squeamish petulance masking as political philosophy.  The Tea Party candidate for congress in Texas who declared that armed insurrection in the case that the midterm elections don’t go their way is not “off the table” does not impress me as mature patriotism—which I’m sure it was designed to look like, the moronic conflation of the willingness to do violence with a twisted idea of “adult”—but as the posturing of a ten-year-old in a schoolyard showdown ala the Duke facing down the bad guy.

    It is possible that these folks have been there all along, but when we had a Soviet Union and a global communist conspiracy to fix their attention we didn’t notice them so much.  Since the Soviet Union collapsed and the only thing responsible government should have done was go around cleaning up the messes left over by all the proxy wars we’d fought with them since the end of World War II, these folks have had really nothing to vent their conspiracy-obsessed, uptight, puritanical faux-patriotism on.  It took a while for them to build an empire of disinformation and fear-fostering on the multitude of petty gripes and cultural shifts they rigorously and doggedly label Liberal or Left, even when those labels have nothing to do with the subject being so condemned.  9/11 was a gift to them, finally something to fix their attention on and get people stirred up to a rousing level of hyper-adrenalized nationalism—the politics of aversion carried to almost virtuoso heights.

    At the end of the day, in all honesty, I have to admit that I cannot join with these people not so much because I disagree with their politics—I do, but not completely, and I find much that could feed a useful dialogue in some of their saner examples—but because I dislike them as human beings.  I don’t know if their deep conservatism has made them such feckless mooks or if their culture blind puritanism has made them conservatives, but however it worked, the result is, to me, repulsive.  They seem compelled to slot people all the time, in this category or that; even when something goes the way they think it should, if it does so for the “wrong people” they’re unhappy; and they have no sense of irony.

    Really, Glenn.  You got bumped out the number one spot on Amazon and it’s because of the Left?  Get a life.

  • The Celebration of the Book, 2010

    I’m taking some time to put on my President’s hat and talk about our upcoming event.
    We’re a week away from the Celebration.  October 23rd at Stephens College in Columbia, Missouri.

    If you’ve been reading this blog any length of time, then you know about my involvement.  For the last 8 1/2 years I’ve been working for it, trying to make it better, five of those years as president.  We’ve done some pretty cool things in that time.

    The Missouri Center for the Book has, like most such organizations, been undergoing some ups and downs the last few years.  We have been reorganizing in order to be a more vital part of the literary and reading community in Missouri.  Among the things that we have done over the last few years is the establishment of the Poet Laureate office for the state.  We are instrumental in running the program and selecting the candidates for the post every two years.  The program has been very popular.  We also continue to run the state Letters About Literature Awards for students.  Every year we send representatives to the National Book Festival.

    And we put on our annual Celebration.

    There are more things we’re planning for the future, but the Celebration is our signature event.  Public participation and support are essential.  While we are technically a state agency, we receive no direct financial aid from the state, and must rely on people who appreciate what we do for support.  This year’s Celebration is important for a number of reasons, but mainly public participation will determine what kind—and whether—we will have one next year.

    So I’m asking people to come.  Money is fine, we can always use money, but we’d like to see a crowd this year.  We’d like to see you.  There’s nothing like a roomful of warm bodies appreciating what’s on stage to keep something like this going, to keep it alive, to keep it relevant.

    Soon we’ll be launching our new website, which will have blogs and discussion boards, and we can draw the whole state into a wonderful conversation about books and authors.  But even a healthy internet presence and participation by a big online community isn’t the same as people walking through the door, sitting down, and listening to our authors and presenters.

    So plan a weekend, show up.  And next year, we’ll do it again.

  • 56

    It has been my practice to, as best as I can, as much as I’m allowed, ignore birthdays.  My birthdays.  I love the attention, don’t get me wrong, but I have always been a bit nervous about attention, especially undeserved attention.  I mean, what the hell, it’s just another day of the week, a point in the arbitrary cycle of time humans impose on nature, and I’m just passing through.  What’s so special about that?

    Birthdays are markers, to be used by people to order their universes.  It matters little to me that I am now 56 years old (fifty-six!  shit, how did that happen?  I was just…) but it matters to me how long I’ve had the life I have, the friends I have, have done the things I’ve done, and know the world as I do, and in that respect birthdays are just as important as any other marker.  It’s an anniversary and if people want an excuse to say to each other “Hey, I’m glad you’re in the world and that I know you” then by all means, birthdays are a good one.  The anniversary of one’s advent into the world.

    But fifty-six?  Seriously?  Damn.

    Middle-aged.

    At this point, I have to say, I’ve had a hell of a good time.  It didn’t always seem so while I lived it, but in retrospect there is very little to complain about.  Most people have a list—you know, A LIST—detailing all the things they want to do.  Probably a goodly part of anyone’s list never happens.  That trip to the Antarctic, hiking the Swiss Alps, seeing Europe, lounging on a beach in the Mediterranean…or more mundane things like, building your own house, learning to fence, owning a really frivolous car (just because), or playing in a band…lists contain a lot of wishes, some dreams, a lot of stuff that once we reach a certain age we realize we didn’t really want to do after all.

    I have a list.  There are things still on it that I want to do that I haven’t and may never do.

    But the number of things that I have done…

    It’s been a pretty good life to this point.  It would have been nice if this or that had gone differently and produced a better result, but the fact is I have done much of what I wanted to do.  I’ve photographed mountains, played in that band, met a lot of very cool people (and some not so cool).  I grew up blue collar not-quite-poor (and my parents worked their way out of that into a comfortable gentility) and managed to sabotage my own educational opportunities—which only means that where others went to college, I went to the local library—and yet I can count as friends a few of the best writers on the planet, a couple of top drawer philosophy professors, fine artists, and, most importantly, the best kind of friends anyone could hope for who are, regardless of any other merit, simply wonderful, decent people.

    I’ve published books.  That’s something that figured large on my list.  I’ve done it.  (I’d like to keep doing it, which is a problem right now to be solved, but hey…)

    One thing on my list that I actually believed would never happen because I was such a screwed up kid, was falling in love with a woman who would be my best friend and staying with her for life.

    I did that and there was a time I thought I didn’t want that.

    Kids are messed up.  They draw their images of potential selves from the world around them because, often, it’s easier than sorting through the mass of conflicting impulses that passes for a psyche at that age.  So they end up “trying things on” and pretending to be various things at various times.  If they’re lucky, they don’t get stuck with something that doesn’t work for them and grow out of it to find out who they really are.

    (When I was a kid, that phrase was a prominent source of bitter discussion in my home.  “I don’t even know who I am” was not a statement that got a lot of sympathy from my parents.  Firstly, they thought it was ridiculous—how could you not know who you are?  You live with you!  Secondly, they were Depression babies, and for many of them the necessity to grow up fast and deal with a world intent on crushing them materially allowed little time for esoteric self-contemplation.  Who you were was whatever you did to survive.  The luxury of taking the time to go on a discovery tour of your own self seemed absurd to them.  And yet, the fact is they often benefited from not having the time to toy with options—the crucible of life, as it were, burned away the unnecessary and left them only with what worked.  It resulted in a kind of admirable self-confidence if not the most sympathetic of personalities.)

    I had a list as a teenager of all the things I thought it would be cool to be.  I’ve joked from time to time that, basically, I wanted to be James Bond.  (My teen years were the first periods of my life when I felt a little personal power.  I’d been a small, weakly child with what later would be termed Nerdy interests and it got me bullied, a lot.  Power was important to me and once I tasted it I wanted more.  James Bond was the dude, man.  Nobody screwed with him, he knew all the right lines, slept with all the finest women, and went wherever the hell he wanted to go.  Despite working for MI6, he was no one’s tool, and that appealed powerfully to me.)

    But I also wanted to be an artist.

    So by the age of 21 I was a conflicted mess, pretty much worthless for anything long-term.  I was living a kind of life that seemed to be what I wanted.  I won’t bother to go into details, but superficially it was almost everything I thought I wanted.

    And I was lonely.

    But I’d finally begun to write.  Interestingly enough, a pattern emerged from my early stories.  I had a number of sympathetic characters who were craving stability and opted for the security of life-long commitments.  Of course being adventure fiction I stacked the odds against their achieving it—and then having them triumph.  I still had no idea what I actually wanted, but clues were appearing.

    There was a period of almost nine months when I totally overturned everything I thought till then I’d wanted.  I fell in love—deeply, so powerfully—and within weeks realized that I’d been doing everything wrong.

    One of my annoying personal habits has always been to ignore the instruction book when learning a new thing and tackling the most complicated aspect of it first.  Headlong dives into top-level stuff, which leads to a lot of flailing, near-drowning.  Never walk when you can run and never play scales when Rachmaninov’s Preludes are in front of you yearning to be played.  (The fourth print I ever made in my home photolab was a multiple collage ala  Jerry N. Uelsemann.)  So I tackled this the same way.  Overnight I walked away from the life I’d been living, made a commitment, and then tried to make it work.

    It blew up, leaving a crater the size of my heart (at the risk of being a bit melodramatic) and I drifted back into a ghost-image of what I’d been before.

    Then I met Donna.

    Come spring, we’ll celebrate 31 years together.  (Thirty-one?  31.  How’d that happen?)

    She has backed me in everything I’ve ever tried to do.  I cannot ask for a better partner, and while many times things haven’t been exactly pleasant, they have always been meaningful and suffused with the dream-stuff of reality at its best.

    Turn around three times and now I’m 56.  I’m frustrated by many things right now.  But that is a direct result of being engaged in complicated, difficult, worthwhile stuff.

    I’m in my last year with the Missouri Center for the Book.  Come March, per our by-laws, I leave the board (for a year, technically).  They elected me president in 2005.  Taking office, I found I had responsibility for an organization that was crippled, reeling, and about to lose its place in the world.  Now we manage the state Poet Laureate program, we’ve been conducting our annual Celebrations again, and we have direction.  We’re about to become a membership organization and expand our outreach to various institutions and organizations around the state.  We’re doing Cool Things.  When I leave, I trust the organization will be humming along nicely, all by itself.

    I’m still looking for a new publisher.  My agent and I have just selected a pseudonym to market me under, since apparently my name is a negative in the marketplace due to some, er, problems with my previous career choices.  But I’m writing short fiction again.

    Best of all, though, I have great friends.  My dad once told me that in life I’d have many acquaintances, but I’d be lucky to have one real friend.  Well, by that metric, I’m wealthy, because I have several real friends.  Starting with Donna, I can off-hand name Jim, Tom, Greg, Kelley, Nicola, Tim, Bernadette, Lucy, Terry, Lloyd, Carol, Carolyn, John, Nathan, Peter…

    That’s the short list.  Really good friends.

    And on this day, I wish them all well, wish them the best, and thank them for being part of what has to date been a damn good life.  Thank you all.

    (But, really…56?)

  • On The Road Part Two

    A quick follow-up to my abbreviated MadCon report just past.  Harlan Ellison arrived at the hotel Thursday evening, around eight o’clock.  Only a few of us were in the lobby.  Allen Steele, Peter David, Donna, and myself.  Peter David’s wife Kathleen and their daughter (who Harlan “terrorized” to our surprise and her later delight).  From that point on it became a really good experience.  All the rumors that had been floating around about Harlan’s imminent demise proved exaggerated.  Though he didn’t look his best—clearly he has been ailing—and he arrived wearing a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms (Pierre Cardin, as he repeatedly joked, since he wore them all weekend), as the weekend progressed he came more and more alive.

    I have a couple of photographs of Harlan.  I will not post them.  Harlan has developed a deep antagonism toward the on-line postings that pass for “news” on the internet.  He loathes the practice of recording and uploading on the spot.  Someday, maybe.  The pictures are for Donna and me.

    But I do have a shot—a bit blurry, not great—of one of my panels.

    panel.jpg

    From left to right, that is  Gene Wolfe, John Krewson (of the Onion), Allen Steele, and Yours Truly.  I believe this was the panel on how we all got into writing science fiction in the first place.  Or just writing.

    Saturday morning Donna and I drove down to the capitol, downtown Madison, for their semi-legendary farmers market.  It was brisk, but a bright, lovely morning, and we walked around among all the vendors.  I have a couple of shots from that, but not yet ready to post.  They will likely end up in my Zenfolio portfolio.

    On the way home, however, we stopped a couple times to take shots of the sunrise.  We left the hotel at 4:15 AM and drove south into a wonderful morning.  At one of the first rest stops, I shot this.

    trucks-at-sunrise.jpg

    Not the greatest work of art ever produced, but there are elements of it I quite like.  I may work on it further.

    Anyway, it was a fine trip, in the best company.  Maybe I’ll say more.  Later.

    Or maybe not.