(Apologies to the writers of Star Trek: The Next Generation and of the episode "Schisms" in particular)
Nathan Poulsen is your familial nomenclature
Born to pursuers intellectual, scholarly by nature
Your studies physical, cor-por-ate, and chemical
Have confirmed to you some sulfamides are non-symmetrical
I find myself intrigued by your instant dormant status
When I scratch just right the spot of your muscle infraspinatus
And how you like to press the couch with your latissimi dorsi
to study anthropology ("Cops") and drink an eight-ounce pepsi
On unsuspecting females you have honed romantic talent
But your help with our consanguines small proves you to be gallant
And though I think they love me with their effervescent glee
On weekends they prefer a manly, congeneric knee
Oh Nate, I know that you are erudite, solicitous, and staid
yet the grecian inking on your forearm shows contumaciousness in spades
And though you must be gone a lot to New York up above
I nonetheless consider you my true and only love
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The Secret
Yesterday at the store, Sethie was flirting with the woman at checkout, as he is wont to do. He tried to catch her eye, gave a shy smile pressing his cheek into his shoulder, and giggled when she squeezed his little socked foot. She was quite taken with him, especially his two little bottom teeth that have been very slowly coming in over the last month or so. As we were about to leave, she said, "Let me give you a little secret, something my grandmother told me. If you get an egg and write his name on it, then hide it in your house, the rest of his teeth will come in quickly. I did it. Worked for my son."
I smiled, thanked her, and left.
I'm a fantasy fiction fan--movies, books, you name it--and so I understand the appeal of the mystical, of the fantastic, of magic. I'm also a lifelong Mormon (minus a few years in college there...) and I have always believed in God and that there are mysteries in the universe that humans--no matter how technologically advanced we become--will never figure out. I suppose on the face of it that might seem to make me ripe for hiding eggs in the house in the hopes that somehow this will hasten my baby's orthodontic advancement. Instead, I'm okay with knowing that are certain things over which I have no control.
But I understand where she was coming from. Magic is the answer to helplessness. In fact, the less control we have over something, the more the idea of magic appeals. In fantasy fiction, magic can take many forms: personal powers, the enchanted sword, and so on, but there is usually an aspect that underlies it: its secretiveness. Secret magical orders, secret magical weapons, secret magical abilities. Why secret? Well, if it's not secret, then anybody can have it, and once everyone has it, it ceases to be magic. It becomes ordinary.
We're living in an age of unprecedented technological innovation that has rendered quite a bit of the world under our control. You can call anywhere in the world--talk to someone as if they were standing right next to you, even if an ocean separates you. We can fly through the air like birds. Diseases that once decimated entire populations have been eradicated with vaccines. Diseases that still don't have cures--cancer, AIDS, etc. now have such amazing treatments to fight them that they aren't always the death sentences they were even just a few years ago. These things should be amazing, magical even.
But they're not, not really. They're ordinary because they're ubiquitous. Now maybe income inequality renders some of these things more attainable for some than for others, but that's a discussion for another day. The truth is, the more control we have, the more we're bothered by things we can't control.
In fact, we seem to be tipping in the opposite direction. Despite the phenomenal success of western medicine and pharmaceuticals, there's a growing mistrust of standard doctors, standard treatments. It can't cure everything--people still get sick, people still grow old, people still die. Despite technological advances in agriculture that allow us to produce more than enough food for the entire planet, there are people still going hungry. And despite the tremendous wealth in the world, and in America in particular, there are still people who struggle to support themselves, who live in terrible poverty. And so we become disillusioned with our own power because it has limits.
Someone once said, the more perfect our world becomes, the more glaring its imperfections. If our own technology fails us--and it does, it fails us--then there must be some secret we're missing. Some people believe these secrets are actually known and a vast conspiracy of intellectuals, or government officials, or religious leaders, or name-your-group-of-powerful-collectivists is withholding them from us for some reason. Other people believe that someone somewhere has the secret and if only you could get a hold of their mailing (and send them your $100), you can be in on the secret, too.
The secret is magic and the magic is secret. Magic is appealing because it implies the fix already exists and if only we could access it, our problems would be solved. The truth is, progress is slow. It is agonizing. It takes years and the collective efforts of many people to come to fruition. And we will probably never fix everything. Humans are imperfect and so our efforts are doomed to be imperfect, too.
The idea behind conservatism is there are some notions/actions that have been shown to work and work well and that we ought to conserve these things. That doesn't mean we shouldn't be on the lookout for new solutions, but it also means the old solution isn't bad for being old, for being ordinary. And we should always be skeptical of the secret, of the promise of magic, recognizing that its appeal is in our own impatience to see a problem fixed. The old adage is true: there are no quick fixes.
So the only time I'll be hiding eggs around the house is Easter. Sorry Seth. You're stuck with babyfood for now.
I smiled, thanked her, and left.
I'm a fantasy fiction fan--movies, books, you name it--and so I understand the appeal of the mystical, of the fantastic, of magic. I'm also a lifelong Mormon (minus a few years in college there...) and I have always believed in God and that there are mysteries in the universe that humans--no matter how technologically advanced we become--will never figure out. I suppose on the face of it that might seem to make me ripe for hiding eggs in the house in the hopes that somehow this will hasten my baby's orthodontic advancement. Instead, I'm okay with knowing that are certain things over which I have no control.
But I understand where she was coming from. Magic is the answer to helplessness. In fact, the less control we have over something, the more the idea of magic appeals. In fantasy fiction, magic can take many forms: personal powers, the enchanted sword, and so on, but there is usually an aspect that underlies it: its secretiveness. Secret magical orders, secret magical weapons, secret magical abilities. Why secret? Well, if it's not secret, then anybody can have it, and once everyone has it, it ceases to be magic. It becomes ordinary.
We're living in an age of unprecedented technological innovation that has rendered quite a bit of the world under our control. You can call anywhere in the world--talk to someone as if they were standing right next to you, even if an ocean separates you. We can fly through the air like birds. Diseases that once decimated entire populations have been eradicated with vaccines. Diseases that still don't have cures--cancer, AIDS, etc. now have such amazing treatments to fight them that they aren't always the death sentences they were even just a few years ago. These things should be amazing, magical even.
But they're not, not really. They're ordinary because they're ubiquitous. Now maybe income inequality renders some of these things more attainable for some than for others, but that's a discussion for another day. The truth is, the more control we have, the more we're bothered by things we can't control.
In fact, we seem to be tipping in the opposite direction. Despite the phenomenal success of western medicine and pharmaceuticals, there's a growing mistrust of standard doctors, standard treatments. It can't cure everything--people still get sick, people still grow old, people still die. Despite technological advances in agriculture that allow us to produce more than enough food for the entire planet, there are people still going hungry. And despite the tremendous wealth in the world, and in America in particular, there are still people who struggle to support themselves, who live in terrible poverty. And so we become disillusioned with our own power because it has limits.
Someone once said, the more perfect our world becomes, the more glaring its imperfections. If our own technology fails us--and it does, it fails us--then there must be some secret we're missing. Some people believe these secrets are actually known and a vast conspiracy of intellectuals, or government officials, or religious leaders, or name-your-group-of-powerful-collectivists is withholding them from us for some reason. Other people believe that someone somewhere has the secret and if only you could get a hold of their mailing (and send them your $100), you can be in on the secret, too.
The secret is magic and the magic is secret. Magic is appealing because it implies the fix already exists and if only we could access it, our problems would be solved. The truth is, progress is slow. It is agonizing. It takes years and the collective efforts of many people to come to fruition. And we will probably never fix everything. Humans are imperfect and so our efforts are doomed to be imperfect, too.
The idea behind conservatism is there are some notions/actions that have been shown to work and work well and that we ought to conserve these things. That doesn't mean we shouldn't be on the lookout for new solutions, but it also means the old solution isn't bad for being old, for being ordinary. And we should always be skeptical of the secret, of the promise of magic, recognizing that its appeal is in our own impatience to see a problem fixed. The old adage is true: there are no quick fixes.
So the only time I'll be hiding eggs around the house is Easter. Sorry Seth. You're stuck with babyfood for now.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Truck Adventures
My Dad recently fulfilled his longtime dream of owning a really big truck. He spends quite a bit of time out in the back country and driving to my parents' property in Colorado, so it's about time he had a machine worthy of his lifestyle, but every machine has its limits. Here is his first person account of a recent "truck adventure":
On Labor Day (3rd of September 2007) Marcia and I decided to take the day off and head up into the Cache National Forest. I had heard that it was possible to drive from the head of Logan Canyon over to the Hardware Ranch at the head of Blacksmith Canyon via the dirt and gravel roads between US Highway 89 and Utah State Highway 101. So we loaded up the pickup truck with gas and a picnic lunch and headed out about 11:30 am.
By 12:30 we were almost to the top of highway 89 just short of the Bear Lake summit. At that point, just before you reach the Limber Pine trailhead, a wide gravel road takes off into the Cache National Forest. According to the map it is probably 30 to 40 miles to the Hardware Ranch. For quite a ways, the road was wide and well graded and through out the forest we saw quite a number of trailers parked in the high meadows of the forest. There was also a fair amount of traffic on the road in the form of both trucks and ATV's.
After a while, as we got deeper into the forest, the character of the road began to change.
It narrowed to the width of a one lane road and started to have more rocks and eroded spots in it. Still it was nothing a four wheel drive truck couldn’t handle easily. Also the road dropped off from the high meadows into a canyon. At several points we encountered traffic coming the other way and either we or they had to maneuver off the road to let the other fellow pass.
Part way down this road there was a place to pull off. Here the forest looked cool and inviting as a picnic site. Marcia and I set up our folding chairs and had a nice lunch (which we shared with the flies and bees). From time to time trucks and ATV’s would pass our site on the nearby road. Also three cows stopped to moo at us on their way to government spring which is further down the canyon. After a short hike up into the forest we loaded up the truck and headed on down canyon.
Quite a ways farther on and after a couple of narrow passes of other vehicles the road came out of the timber into a high wide mountain valley with little timber. The road itself was fairly wide but had lots of potholes and rocks in it. It stretched off into the distance but appeared to be the way to go to get to Hardware. The speed on this road was 5 to 10 miles an hour depending on how good or bad it was. From time to time we did however encounter Forest Service signs which said, among other places which we had never heard of, that we were headed toward the Hardware Ranch.
For quite a while now we had seen no other traffic. The canyon began to narrow towards a slot which we thought the road would go down thru to the ranch. However, just as we got to the beginning of the slot, the road forked. The right hand continued down canyon, but the left hand turned and started up what looked to be maybe an 800 foot high ridge. And at the fork was a Forest Service Sign with the word ‘HARDWARE’ and an Arrow pointing to the left fork. The left fork was decidedly a much more narrow rocky road which started to climb and disappear around the flank of the ridge.
By now we had been on the Forest roads for nearly three hours, so the prospect of going back wasn’t very appealing, but neither was the look of this road. At that moment down the left hand fork came an old pickup truck with three bow hunters in it. They waved as they passed; and I decided if they could drive down this road I could drive up it. Just as we started up the road we encountered three more bow hunters on ATV’s. I asked the first one how much farther it was to the Hardware Ranch and he replied “Its only 14 miles!” What an answer – we had already come what seemed like 30 or 40 miles. He told me that once you got up on the dug way at the top of the ridge to turn south and it was down hill from there to the Hardware Ranch.
As we started up the road it turned the flank of the ridge and I got a better look at where we were headed. As I looked at the road my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. Above us you could see on the steep rocky hillside a series of switchbacks which climbed higher and higher and finally disappeared from view. It was apparent that once you started up this steep and narrow rocky road there was no turning back. Putting the truck into 4 wheel drive low gear we commenced out slow crawl up and I prayed that this would turn out all right. Marcia later told me she was also scared spit less by what she saw ahead of us and wondered why I didn’t say anything. I replied “What was I supposed to do – start crying!” Part way up we encountered three more bow hunters on ATV’s, but they were able by careful maneuvering to pass us. Had we encountered another truck there would have been nothing to do but try backing down this nasty road. But thankfully we were spared that ordeal. After what seemed like forever we crawled up onto the top of the ridge. At that point the road visibly improved. And about twenty minutes later we came to the hardtop at the Hardware Ranch.
I was almost tempted to get out of the truck and kiss the asphalt. After a pit stop we headed down Blacksmith Fork to the Cache Valley and by 8pm we were home again, having covered by the trip odometer some 138 miles. Doesn’t sound like much distance, but at 5 to 10 miles an hour a lot of the way it took a long time. Some parts of this area we intend to visit again, but never again will I drive up or down that hairpin rocky track.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Ah! Bugs!
One change moving from urban to suburban that hasn't been positive is the number of bugs. Naturally you would think that ew, city, very dirty, but while that may be true, the bug level seems to be on the lowside. There are flies of course, and, shhhhhhuuuuddddeeerrrr, cockroaches (big ones!), but other than that, there are really very few bugs that you see on a regular basis and most buildings have an exterminator that comes round usually once a week, so, unless you are a total slob, you don't even really see those very often.
Here it's completely different. This has been the summer of bugs. And I have seen some REALLY BIZARRE creatures, things that I have never in my life laid eyes on. I wish I had pictures of them, but inevitably they catch me offguard as I'm strolling through the neighborhood, or, heaven forbid, strolling through my house and one of two things happens: either I'm outside and I run or I'm inside and I strike out at the wee beastie, squashing it into wee beastie pulp, beyond all recognition, clearly before adequate preservation techniques can be employed.
This morning, however, we headed out the backdoor to pile in the car for Thomas's first soccer "game" of the fall season and nearly walked headlong into this, which a very intrepid spider had built IN THE COURSE OF A SINGLE NIGHT (you will probably have to click on the image to see it in its full glory):
Here it's completely different. This has been the summer of bugs. And I have seen some REALLY BIZARRE creatures, things that I have never in my life laid eyes on. I wish I had pictures of them, but inevitably they catch me offguard as I'm strolling through the neighborhood, or, heaven forbid, strolling through my house and one of two things happens: either I'm outside and I run or I'm inside and I strike out at the wee beastie, squashing it into wee beastie pulp, beyond all recognition, clearly before adequate preservation techniques can be employed.
This morning, however, we headed out the backdoor to pile in the car for Thomas's first soccer "game" of the fall season and nearly walked headlong into this, which a very intrepid spider had built IN THE COURSE OF A SINGLE NIGHT (you will probably have to click on the image to see it in its full glory):
Here's a close-up:
Mr(s). spider was quite grumpy to see us as (s)he was wrapping up a tasty meal in the center of the web and was forced to abandon it to cower surreptitiously up in a corner, hoping we would pass by and not happen to notice the enormous, over two foot diameter web that (s)he had built from the tip of our porch railing to the overhang of our roof. Here's a picture of the intrepid arachnid:
The thing looks to me to be what I've always known as a crab spider, but google image search produced crab spiders that don't really resemble this. The only thing I've seen otherwise is the thorn spider, but those appear to be native to Madagascar, so the chance of one being in our little backyard in Princeton Junction is, hopefully, rare. If anyone knows what this thing is, let me know. I'm pretty curious.
When we returned from soccer, the web was still there, but the spider and its tasty meal were gone. Don't know if the spider is planning to come back, but I hope it's moved on because Nate has promised to take the hose to the web ASAP.
UPDATE: Nate has actually caught the spider and is gleefully taking it upstairs to alcohol it. Up close and personal, the spider looks very different than from its initial wrapped up position. It has a distinctive marking on its abdomen that we're trying now to use to identify it.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Maralee's Happy Birthday
I realize that I am not a regular contributor -- in fact, I think this is my first entry (other than comments) on our blog. I have prepared a few posts, but I have never published them. For some reason, I am resistant to actually put it out there, but for my beautiful wife, I will do it today.
I am at work today, and with school tonight, I probably won't see Mara until late this evening (provided she can stay awake until then), so I wanted to publicly wish Mara a Happy Birthday, and let her (and readers of the blog) know how much I love and appreciate her.
I am always amazed by how she cares for the boys - when I have had them for even a few hours, I am at my wit's end. They love her so much - Sethie is usually happy to see me in the morning, but will claw his way to mom when he catches sight of her.
Thomas told me yesterday that "it would be fun if mommy went to work and daddy stayed home and we could play transformers all day every day!" When I asked him if he would really like that, he said no, because mommy "takes good care of me." I didn't follow up on the implications of that statement.
She is also very humble - her story that was included in the anthology has been mentioned (along with her name) in many of the reviews of the book, including Publisher's Weekly and the McClatchy family of daily papers. In fact, I may even get in trouble for mentioning this... but as those of you who read this blog know, she is an excellent writer, and I am very proud of her.
Mara is also supportive and encouraging of both my (never-ending) school and work endeavors, and has been my mental and emotional anchor for the last 6+ years. She is the love of my life, and I feel so so lucky to have her. She is my best and closest friend.
Happy Birthday Maralee!
I am at work today, and with school tonight, I probably won't see Mara until late this evening (provided she can stay awake until then), so I wanted to publicly wish Mara a Happy Birthday, and let her (and readers of the blog) know how much I love and appreciate her.
I am always amazed by how she cares for the boys - when I have had them for even a few hours, I am at my wit's end. They love her so much - Sethie is usually happy to see me in the morning, but will claw his way to mom when he catches sight of her.
Thomas told me yesterday that "it would be fun if mommy went to work and daddy stayed home and we could play transformers all day every day!" When I asked him if he would really like that, he said no, because mommy "takes good care of me." I didn't follow up on the implications of that statement.
She is also very humble - her story that was included in the anthology has been mentioned (along with her name) in many of the reviews of the book, including Publisher's Weekly and the McClatchy family of daily papers. In fact, I may even get in trouble for mentioning this... but as those of you who read this blog know, she is an excellent writer, and I am very proud of her.
Mara is also supportive and encouraging of both my (never-ending) school and work endeavors, and has been my mental and emotional anchor for the last 6+ years. She is the love of my life, and I feel so so lucky to have her. She is my best and closest friend.
Happy Birthday Maralee!
Monday, September 03, 2007
Thomisms Redux
Nate: "Thomas, you need to get cleaned up. Thomas? Thomas, are you listening to me?"
Thomas: "Daddy, I didn't hear you."
Nate: "What didn't you hear me say?"
Thomas: "That I needed to get cleaned up."
Nate: "You didn't hear that?"
Thomas: "Nope."
Thomas: "Daddy, I didn't hear you."
Nate: "What didn't you hear me say?"
Thomas: "That I needed to get cleaned up."
Nate: "You didn't hear that?"
Thomas: "Nope."
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