The Bone Bandit

Fences are supposed to be barriers.  They are intended to keep some things in, and some things out.  A fence around a garden has little to do with foiling the escape plans of a cabbage, but hopefully will provide a safe haven for it to ripen until you’re ready to harvest.  But at best, a fence has its limitations.  Rabbits, and even deer can spoil the best intentions of a poorly constructed enclosure, and a fence is no obstacle at all to squirrels and birds.  The average backyard fence is not designed for cat management.

Some dawgs will stay inside their fence, but many figure out the weak spots, and use them to open up adventures.  We once had a dawg (Ashley Cooper) that could dig under or climb over with the same ease that I might have with just opening the gate.  Our current pups in residence are not so inclined.  Based on the abandon and joy they show when they do get out suggests that they are not smart enough to outwit the fence on their own.  There is some comfort in that.

This is not true of every canine in the hood, as we recently had a visitor.  I heard the playful barking, as I often do, and assumed they were just playing a game of “chase the stick”, or some other popular dawg diversion.  The barking continued, and seemed to be getting intense, so I decided to have a look.  I saw that my puppies were engrossed in a high energy game of three-way tag.  Three way?  I only have two dogs!

I had never seen the third dawg before.  He seemed pleasant enough, and was only mildly curious of my presence. I was curious of his as well, but perhaps more than mildly.  How did he get in?  While all three followed me around the yard, I checked to make sure all gates were secure, and looked for weak spots along the fence line where a critter might crawl under or through.  Nothing seemed obvious.  I asked the guest to explain, but all he did was wag his tail.  Reason or explanation is something you should never expect from a dawg.

Now many of you would assume the logical thing to do would be to simply put the little vagabond outside the fence, and be done with it.  But being a married man, I’ve learned that I should seek advice and council from a higher authority before attempting decisions on my own.  Besides, Brenda might recognize the stranger, and know who it belonged to.

“There are three dawgs in the back yard.”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?  We only have two.”

“Well, right now, there are three.”

Then began the normal inquiry: “where did it come from; how did it get in, who’s dawg is it, what kind is it, have you seen it before, how old is it, is it a girl or a boy, do you think it will bite you if you try to pick it up…” the answer to to all of which was “I don’t know.”  About all I knew was that it was a medium to small brown dawg wearing a red collar, and it was inside the fence in our backyard.

She looked at me as if I was stupid, and finally said:

“Well don’t just stand there, go put it outside the fence.  We cannot let it stay here.”

I smiled at her to let her know I thought her conclusion was brilliant, and how happy I was to know what I should do next.  I went to the back door and called our dawgs.  All three came running, but the new one stopped short.  I let our two inside with me leaving the visitor alone in the yard.

Once inside, both of my pets wanted to let me know how excited they were.  I thought Lia Bea was going to beat me to death with her wagging tail.  Zipper went back to the door as if he thought it rude to leave the guest unattended.  Lila ran up the stairs to tell Brenda the news about company, and in a loud voice, said:

“Hey!  Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

Then, she ran back down to tell me the same thing.  She continued as I picked up a leash.  Her enthusiasm became greatly amplified.  Seeing the leash in my hand got her all flustered thinking I was going to take her for a walk.  Zipper thought the same thing, but was preoccupied with scratching at the door.  Something outside was on his mind, and he was being bulldog tenacious about getting back out there.  It took just a minute or two to get them into another room so they would not follow me when I went out to deal with the intruder.  Putting a couple of biscuits in my pocket for insurance, I went out into the yard.

I didn’t see the other pup right away.  I looked all around, called and whistled, but detected no movement at first.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a most entertaining picture.  Folks who have dawgs understand that they enjoy having a bone to play with.  They love chewing on them, and moving them around to places where you are likely to stumble on them, or hit them with a lawnmower.  A nice big femur bone is considered valuable to a dawg, and they can be quite possessive when they find one.  We had recently brought home a couple of large beef bones for our hounds’ entertainment.  One of those dinosaur legs had been found.  The finder laid claim to it.

The visiting canine was not curled up chewing on it, but carrying it between his teeth.  The thighbone was half as big as the little dawg, and no doubt fairly heavy.  He was halfway up the fence, but struggling with the weight of his new found prize, and couldn’t quite make it to the top.  Now I knew.  The rascal had climbed the fence to get in, and was attempting to leave by the same method, but weighted down by the booty he’d collected.

Not wanting to let go, he was no longer in a position to out maneuver me, so I managed to get a leash on him.  With some cleverness, and the aid of a biscuit, I was able to distract him from the bone long enough to kick it (the bone, not the puppy) out of reach.  He offered no resistance to the leash, and playfully jumped about wagging his tail.   This behavior let me know he had an owner somewhere, and was probably accustomed to being treated fairly well.  We went outside the gate together, and up the street for a block or so.

I stopped and gave him a pat on the head, and a biscuit.  Then, I gave him some instruction:

“I’m going to let you off the leash.  If you go home, perhaps some child won’t have to go to bed tonight crying, and worrying about you.  You can go wherever you want, but I strongly recommend that you go home.  If you come back inside my fence, I will make a call to animal control, and you’ll get a free ride to the pound.”

I’ve never had a dawg pay much attention to my spoken words, but somehow I felt he understood some of it.  I’m pretty sure he understood me releasing him from the leash, and knew he was free to go, and he did.

It’s been awhile now, and he has not returned, or at least I haven’t caught him at it.  I’ve looked often when going up the street to see any sign of him.  I figured I might see him in some neighbor’s yard happily playing with children, but have not had so much as a glimpse of him since the day he came calling.  I guess it is just as well, but I do miss him.  He was, after all,  one of the nicest burglars I’ve met in this entire subdivision.

Yeast Roll Recipe

“When the Roll is Called Up Yonder, I’ll be There”  -James M. Black, 1893

*Boil a gallon of water (don’t add salt).  At sea level, this occurs at about 212 degrees Fahrenheit.  If you don’t have a thermometer, watch for the little bubbles.  Bring it to a rolling boil (called the boil roll).

*Mix in about three and a half pounds of (barley) malt syrup.  Use a ladle–do not try to stir it with your hands, unless you’re absolutely sure they are clean–check under your fingernails for possible contaminants.  If using your hands, make sure you roll up your sleeves.

*Add a cup or so of crystal barley, and another cup of toasted barley.  If you’re not sure which cup to use, use a big one.  An old pair of panty hose will make a good straining bag for the barley (make sure the nylons are clean before using).  Always take the panty hose off before putting them into the boiling water.

*Add bitter hops early, and finishing hops later.  There is a reason for this, but I don’t know what it is.  Panty hose can also be used for the hops as well as the barley just like a tea bag, or you can buy a commercial hop sack.  Use the part of the hose normally worn on the feet and calves instead  of the hip and waist sections, unless you intend to use a lot of hops.  If your spouse see’s you doing this, expect them to roll their eyes.

*Other adjunct fermentables such as brown sugar and honey if you desire, or you can use extra malt kicker.  The use of rice or wheat is allowable although it is an offense to strict German standards.  Oatmeal is not recommended at all, whether flakes or steel rolled, due to the tendency to turn your yeast roll into a paste.

*Bring the wort to a boil stirring constantly so it doesn’t burn. I like a yeast roll with full body and flavor, so I recommend at least a pound of fermentables per gallon of finished product.

*After the wort has boiled, pour it into a fermenting vat that is resting nearby with three to three and a half gallons of room temperature water.  The combined mixture should be about five gallons.  Let it cool.

*Once cooled (so as not to kill or offend the yeast), it will be time to roll in the yeast.  Before rolling it into the wort, roll it around a bit in the bag so it will be a loose powder instead of a glump.  Open the bag or envelope of yeast, And with your fingers, roll the contents out so it spreads over the top of the liquid in the vat.  I call this procedure the “yeast roll”, and it should be done gently.  Try not to splash it on any clothing that requires dry cleaning.  Some say “pour”, but I like to say “roll”.  Otherwise, this would be a recipe for “yeast pour“.

*Expect a lot of carbon dioxide to be given off as a byproduct.  Make sure you have a vent for this, otherwise your vat is liable to explode splattering your yeast rolls all over the wall.  The vent should be a kind of water valve so contaminants from the air don’t get back into the vat.  There are wild yeasts and other fungal spores in the air that could render your yeast rolls a bit funky.

*A sample of the finished product may also be called a “yeast roll“, or “barley pop“, and a friend of mine calls them “chicken sodas” to confuse the children, and keep them from wanting any before dinner.

*In less than a week, siphon the liquid off the sediment of dead yeast that has settled to the bottom of the vat, and bottle it (the liquid–NOT the yeast sediment), and roll with it.

*Allow at least two or three weeks for conditioning after bottling.  As soon as you finish the siphon, you can roll the yeast sediment into either a compost heap, or a commode.  Don’t feed it to the cat.

* I’m enjoying a yeast roll right now.  It’s good for whatever ale‘s you.

A Most Unusual Venue

I was booked to perform as Mark Twain at a country club back in the early ’90s.  The agent’s contract included a cancellation clause, which is customary.  The club facility was undergoing renovations.  Closer to the time for their event, it became obvious that the only space they would have had for the banquet was not going to be finished in time.  Left with no option, the client asked to cancel, but waited to inform my agent until well inside the “no cancel” period.  At first, I offered to extend the agreement if the client wished to reschedule within a reasonable time period.

As it turned out, they were not asking to reschedule, but to cancel altogether.  I offered that if the agency could book me elsewhere I would be agreeable to release the original client from their agreement.  But the agent wasn’t able to do that as they had nothing else available on such short notice.  Since the client would have to pay anyway, they asked if it would be allowed that they should donate my performance as a gift to another group on the same date and in the same geographic region.  I agreed.

I thought it most unusual that the “other group” turned out to be the brain trauma center of a major hospital.  This would be a difficult set of circumstances for any actor.  I wondered then, and have since many times questioned why I would be asked to do a tribute to Samuel Clemens in front of an audience with head injuries.  Perhaps the client had a friend or family member there, or maybe someone close to them worked in that part of the hospital.  Perhaps it was a punishment to me for making them abide with the terms of the contract, I don’t know.

I did makeup in an available room, and was asked to go in costume to see a particular patient who was being reluctant to join the others in the commons area.  They thought him seeing me would make him want to come.  When he saw me with my white hair and suit, I’m sure he thought I was an apparition of a spirit come to take him on to the next life.  He was polite enough, but wanted to keep his distance. To my face, he agreed to come, but as soon as my back was turned, he recanted, and told the nurse he would not.

Coming to the commons area near the main nurses station, I realized there would quite a few other distractions.  This was not going to be anything like any other audience I’ve ever had up to then, or since.  Some of the congregation was in wheelchairs; some on gurneys with IVs, and some were literally comatose.  One man was in what appeared to be an iron lung.  Most of them were not even looking at me, but I was certainly looking at them.

Somehow, I managed to stay in character for the performance.  It was both the most humbling experience of my career, and at the same time one of the most inspiring.  Most of my audience was in no position to understand anything I said, but I was able to connect with some.  Two gentlemen seated near the front row would hit each other on the arm each time I came to a punchline, and a young lady who was paralyzed on one half of her body would pound the table since she could use only one hand, and couldn’t applaud.

A nurse told me later about one particular lady that laughed, and laughed a lot.  They told me it was the first attempt to speak, and the first time they’d gotten any response from her that showed emotion since her accident.  On my way out, a man in a wheelchair (one side of his body paralyzed) stopped to tell me “thank you”, and he said I was talented.  I offered to shake his hand.  He held firmly with his good hand for quite a while and looked me in the eye.  He smiled, but I knew he was struggling with it.

When I got back to my car, I sat there a long time and thought about all that had happened.  I thought about my silly pride and stubbornness that may have put me in such a position.  I thought about the many circumstances the individual members of my audience were dealing with, and that while a few may have gotten a chuckle or two, most of the members of that house would never remember that I was even there that day.

I was told that some patients had trouble recognizing members of their own family.  I had stood before them on my own two feet, and spoke without struggling to overcome physical or mental impairments.  Many of them would not ever be able to again stand up and address a group of people, which was something I’d heretofore taken for granted.  It is sad to say, but I knew perhaps a few might not live long enough to ever leave that place, and a few more would never be able to return to their normal routine, or live at home without constant care.

On any given day, we can be happy, and seem grateful.  But even in such a good frame of mind, we are often unaware of so much around us.  How often do we thoughtlessly ignore the wonder for the simple pleasures in life, with no regard that some of those gifts of life are completely unavailable to others.  Mostly, it is out of sight, therefore out of mind.  But not that day.   Conceivably, some fate worked to give me a momentary reprieve from some of the restraints self centeredness holds us to.  Maybe it took the blinders off to let me take in a view of a different reality that is always there, but not always in focus.

In my adult life, I’ve worked at controlling emotions to some degree.  It is a part of our culture for men to want to do this.  But sitting in my car that afternoon dealing with a flood of thoughts, I felt the tears on my cheek, and let them go without interference.  I wasn’t ashamed to cry a little bit, and quite frankly, would have been ashamed had I not.  All this did happen, but remembering it now is almost like trying to remember a dream.  Most dreams are soon forgotten, but this one will never go away.

Pan Crud

The residue formed by frying or cooking just about anything builds up in the pan or skillet after awhile.  The longer you wait between pan scrapings or cleanings, the thicker it gets.  It is best described as “crud”.  It varies from crusty to viscous, but is at its finest when it is a little of both.

There is a lot to be said for the pleasures associated with finding a skillet that has been sitting on a stovetop for several days, and no hint as to what was the last thing cooked in it.  Well seasoned pan crud is a build up of oils used for frying many different items such as: bacon, hamburgers, chicken, fish, potatoes, ‘possum, squirrel, squash, green tomatoes, okra, and (when the budget allows for extravagance) potted meat.

Over time, these add tremendous flavor and texture to the crud.  Also, by not cleaning the skillet out between frying episodes, you don’t have to add as much new lard each time.  This will save money which you will need to pay the deductibles on your medical insurance (it is a good idea to make sure all life insurance premiums are current before using pan crud for anything).

Color varies, usually from dark brown to black, but some excellent pan cruds will be gray with white spots.  This is okay, and normally just indicates a higher fat content (which makes it taste gooder) unless the white spots are fuzzy.  If the pan crud appears to be growing a beard, or taking on shades of green, you might want to place it in an oven for a period of time, and at a temperature that might render it sterile.  Be careful here, because the amount of time, and temperatures required, based on what modern science has learned in the past few years, could melt your stove, or at least stink the place up a bit.

Pan crud should be collected in a bucket, and kept handy.  I am tearful when I think of how often folks discard this wonderful byproduct due to insufficient education.  There are almost unlimited uses for pan crud.  Every kitchen and workshop should keep ample supplies on hand.

Besides polishing silver, stainless steel ware and cuttlery, it’s great for keeping the worm of your shop vice lubricated, and is a good rust inhibitor for tools.  It only takes a dab to make hubcaps shine like a diamond in the south end of a north-bound duck, and is perfect for dipping chisels and drill bits being re-tempered after sharpening too fast.  Be cautious of flames while doing this unless you intend to burn down your shop.  By adding a little pumice or sand, pan crud serves as an excellent waterless hand cleaner.  Just make sure you use plenty of soap and water afterwards.

Pan crud, though often used as a topping for entrees, casseroles, and desserts, can also serve as a main course all by itself, but only if you’re absolutely starving.  Some folks use it as a salad dressing, but I’ve found it makes lettuce too slippery to stay on the fork.  One of the more interesting glazes for baked foods is pan crud mixed with a little fruit juice (or old crayons) for added color.

Substituting with pan crud sure comes in handy between paydays when going back to the grocery store is not economic.  It has been used as a replacement for gelatin, mayonnaise, butter, and even ice cream.  You can also add a spoonful or so to grits or oatmeal as a way to stretch things out when you have company.  If you are equipped with a cast-iron stomach, no homemade soup or stew is complete without it.  It’s perfect for adding the magic touch to a pot of chili, and nothing is better for removing water spots from wine glasses.

When the menu calls for appetizers, pan crud by itself can be used as a dip for chips and crackers, and can be served hot or cold.  Because it is so easy to spread, you can use it as a filling for celery sticks, and pitted olives.

Use it as a shaving cream when it’s not quite time for a new blade, and pan crud is great for slicking back your hair.  It takes a lot of the drag and pull out of the comb.  It will waterproof your shoes as well as shine them, and is particularly helpful when used that way if you’re trying to teach a dawg to heel.  Those of you with small children may recognize the desirable way pan crud helps to control diaper rash, but always check with your pediatrician in case your child doen’t have the hide of a rhinoceros.

Some other (but not all) uses for Pan Crud:

* Bird feed suet–particularly for crows, vultures, and buzzards.  Also, a good coat of pan crud on the bird feeder itself will make it a bit slippery for those sunflower stealing pesky squirrels;

* Transmission fluid additive–increases “slippance” to remind you it’s time for an overhaul;

* Decorative candles–blending pan crud with paraffin is a good way to spruce up holiday candles, especially if the holiday is “Halloween”;

* Head Lice repellent–coat the hair and scalp thickly so as to cause the lice to slide ride off onto the floor.  Sleep standing up, or use disposable pillowcases.

* Gasoline additive–makes your car smoke like it has an old diesel engine;

*Diesel fuel additive–makes you think: “tastes like chicken” every time you crank it up, but it tends to clog injectors;

* Fly paper–flies may not stick to it, but you’ll be able to track them easier;

*Radiator coolant–keeps water pump lubricated (note: crud that is primarily from fish fryers is not recommended);

* Ski and surfboard lubricant (the bottoms only-never put it on the tops);

* Makeup base–stretches your cosmetic budget.  Adds flavor to lipstick, and makes nail polish shine (some cruds can also be used as nail polish remover, and even nail remover).  Some football players use it to put those dark, light absorbing streaks under their eyes, but never over the eyes: sweat can cause it to run, and blur your vision;

* Massage therapy–A great way to spend the day at the spa, but smell like you’ve spent it slaving over a hot stove.  It is a deception, but your spouse should be used to that by now;

* Windshield cleaner–softens caked-on love bugs, but may inhibit visibility.  Parked cars only-never use while driving;

* Humidifier oil–Makes every room in your house smell like “supper is ready”;

*Corrosion retardant–for battery terminals, and other electronic connections.  Caution: some pan cruds are highly flammable, and should not be used where there is a chance of electric spark.  Also, it may attract mice and other rodents and encourage them to chew insulation;

Pan Crud is NOT recommended to be used as (not to be presumed to be a complete list):

* Carburetor cleaner–could attract fire ants, and has also been attributed to significant carbon buildup;

* Antibiotic ointment–but it can be used as an anti-antibiotic whenever germs are desirable.  Because of this, intimate or personal hygiene uses are also discouraged;

* Under arm deodorant–especially if you intend to wear clothes later.  Crud stains are most difficult to remove from linens;

* Eye drops–can lead to eye infections, and even total blindness especially if it’s still very hot when applied;

* Coffee creamer–unless you intend to use the coffee for catfish bait;

*Any laundry application–unless you want spots and stains to grow larger rather than smaller;

* Resurfacing or cleaning driveways, sidewalks, or any other pavement–unless you intend to use it as a traction inhibitor, then it works fine.

* Lubricant or cleaner for motorcycle saddles and tires–anybody who wouldn’t understand this should never get within three feet of a motorcycle (see “traction inhibitor” in above comment);

* Sunscreen–remember, pan crud is a “cooking” oil base, so it will have an SPF factor of zero.

* Using pan crud to lubricate footballs is a bad idea.  I think it’s okay to put it on face guards, because you ain’t supposed to touch those, anyway.

* Sniffing pan crud is an abomination.  Well, a quick whiff to make sure it ain’t too fishy maybe, but don’t inhale!

* Although rubbing your feet with pan crud might make it easier to put your socks on, it could cause the tops of the socks to sag, thus allowing your ankles to get sunburned;

Warning: if you are allergic to botulism or other kinds of food poisoning, you might want to check with you physician before taking pan crud internally, or before applying it to skin, hair, open wounds, or exposed bone.  Some folks are just not as tough as others, and the best thing to do is to go ahead and admit it.  But if it is your custom to eat at the same table with coyotes, cockroaches, jackals, wharf-rats, crows, hyenas, vultures, maggots, and buzzards, I wouldn’t worry about it at all.  In fact, if that is the case, I would encourage you to consider a career in politics.

A Value of Integrity

“Integrity has no need of rules.” – Albert Camus

A child stumbles and falls.  You help the child up; check to see if it was injured in the fall, and offer a sense of understanding and comfort.  Do you do that because there is a rule that says you have to?  Do you do it because others are looking, and you want them to think well of you toward some benefit as such a reputation might bring?  The only probable selfishness in the act might be that you couldn’t stand yourself if you didn’t.  But while you think that may be universally true, it is not.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-15386700

But the problem is not just in China.  For almost a decade, a war raged in Sierra Leone killing and displacing thousands of children, and making soldiers out of many who could not run away.  Then, after the war,  children were put to work in diamond mines where there was very little respect for their humanity, much less for their childhood.  But that is perhaps true of the lucky ones.  Though the civil war ended in 2002, many children still live in a daily horror that many much more fortunate folks do not want to hear about.  But just take a peak at it, anyway:

http://allafrica.com/stories/201109130003.html

In another war that began earlier, and still rages in Somalia, children carry automatic weapons while most of the world looks the other way, and has been looking the other way now for almost twenty years.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/14/world/africa/14somalia.html

So, what we think may be an internalized value associated with the word “child”, is not true for all children, is it?  Further, there is a feeling among some that after a certain age, should the person stumble and fall, it is their own fault, and that they deserved it.  But what if the thing that tripped them up was placed there intentionally and deceptively by someone else?  What do you think of the con artist’s justification that the victims were adults, and should have known better than to trust him?  The con artist has values: he values wealth, but he has no integrity.

We need to get past the presumption that values equal integrity.  It is normal for most people to feel their own values have some integrity. But the mental picture of what that means for each of us is likely to be as different as it would be if were using the word “quality”.  Some folks think it unethical to compromise their values, but in fact, in some cases, it just might be unethical to uphold them. I think that’s what happened to Bernie Madoff.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madoff_investment_scandal

The scams perpetrated by Bernie Madoff horrified many people.  It is common to speak of him with condemnation, and with sympathy for his victims.  It would be most unpopular to call his victims foolish, or to in any way imply that they had it coming.  Due to the size of his scheme, it seemed unprecedented, but it is not new: the term “moral hazard” has been used in business since the 1600′s.  Bernie Madoff, as it turns out, was not a man of integrity, but he was certainly a man with values: money, and lots of it.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moral_hazard

In recent years, folks have become quite nervous about things they value, because there has been so much change and upheaval, not just here, but worldwide.  While corruption is not new in high places (businesses, governments, and other institutions), there is more media now, more than at any other time in history, to talk about it.  And they do.  Consequently, a lot of people do not respect their own leaders in business, government, and some other institutions, and suspect the feeling is mutual.  This breakdown in even the minimal appearance of respect seems to feed on itself, and results in other breakdowns.  And with this comes no common opinion shared by all as to who must suffer the consequences of fiscal irresponsibility.  Yet a lot of people on both sides of the isles applauded when Bill Clinton signed the CFMA into law:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kevin-connor/celebrating-ten-years-of_b_799981.html

So much strife and confusion about the breakdown of economic and social systems, as well as the morality that should have prevented these breakdowns, have people clamoring for new rules.  The purpose seems to be, as always, so that we can monitor the behavior of others (it is always the others).  It is believed justified, and even necessary, so that the fear of losing things we value will subside.  The leverage for who gets to make the new rules is politics, and it is about values.

It is always about values.  If it were a matter of integrity, Would the world’s huge investment bankers gotten themselves bogged down in such a mud hole of fraud and deception over the years leading up to the debacle of 2008?   Would there be any environmental issues in politics?  Of course not, but don’t expect integrity to creep in and take over politics, because that is not going to happen. Politics manages (and manipulates) the fears related to loss of values, and it very much needs the public to keep values confused with ethics.  And because of it, the term “moral hazard” will not go away.

No matter what your political thoughts are, it will be true that you fear, and cannot help but fear, that the party you see as opposition threatens to take from you something you value.  Additionally, you are likely to believe that the opposition party lacks a sense of honest integrity.  Trust me, they feel exactly the same way about you.  The political process will be driven by values, but not by integrity.  The belief that ethics are even a small part of it is a myth.  There are quite a few popular myths about ethics:

http://accounting.smartpros.com/x38366.xml

But is that kind of thinking applicable to the differences that divide the worlds religions?  There must be some reason they treat each other so badly, and do it in the name of the highest ethical authority they can think of.  It is common for respective members of any religion or denomination to want to believe they are driven by the very highest integrity and ethical standards.  Yet what keeps them at war with each other is not so much ethics, but what they’ve chosen to value (even though those values change from time to time), and the fear (nurtured by intentionally and politically imposed misunderstandings) that those values are at risk.  What IS at risk is not integrity, but dogma, and the people empowered by it.

Adolf Hitler was empowered by what the German people were lead to believe.  They also thought that he believed in them.  Towards the end of WWII, Hitler said that if the German people would not willingly die for the fatherland, they deserved to be defeated.  Then, he committed suicide.  By then, over fifty million people were dead, and not because they were victims of integrity.

What people value does change.  My grandfather wore a proper hat whenever he went into public places, and thought it to be important.  At the time, it was customary.  It was considered impolite not to.  So, hats vere valued in some way different than they are today.  But does it mean that men who go into public without a proper fedora today are rude, or disrespectful?  No, of course it doesn’t.

Some years ago, the idea of universal suffrage was considered by some to be serious attack on core values.  At the same time, many thought the idea represented principles of fairness, and implied a respect for a person’s humanity.  As it turned out, the old value system proved to have no sustainable integrity, and was changed.  Today, universal suffrage in the United States is considered to be a part of “core values”.

So, values and integrity are not the same thing, are they?  What one person values may be seen simply as covetousness by another person.  So it is not that we should seek a society of values AND integrity as much as we should want a society that has a value OF integrity.  But is such universal respect likely to happen?  At Christmas time, many people sing about “Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men”, but is it sung widely by people with no hatred, or fear of mankind in their heart?  Will all the people in the world resolve all of a sudden to be committed to treating each other with respect?  Not likely?  Well then, I guess it is up to each individual to decide if what they really want is to do the right thing.  It’s always been that way.

“If everyone were clothed with integrity, if every heart were just, frank, kindly, the other virtues would be well-nigh useless.” – Moliere

Tequila Martinis

Sometimes a local Mexican or Tex-Mex restaurant has a special on Margaritas, and sometimes they don’t.  On some alternate nights, certain beers may be featured at nostalgic prices, but I’ve found that the impulse decision to go out to eat has no direct correlation to these specials, as they are never in vogue when I show up, anyway.

Last night, the only beverage special was for martinis, but I was in no mood for gin, or vodka.  So just for the sake of conversation, I asked  the server what kind of martinis they were offering, and she said:

“Any kind you want!  All martinis are half off tonight!”

Bingo!  Sometimes you have to think outside the menu.  I told her I’d have a tequila martini.  I had to say it twice.  She looked kind of surprised, and asked:

” A what?  A tequila martini?  

“Thassrite, tequila,” I responded trying not to giggle.

What kind?” she asked.

I said:  ”Dry”

Well cool beans if they didn’t bring me a double shot of Patrone in a martini glass, and rimmed it with salt!

The young lady serving our table said the bartender claimed it was the first one in history, but I assured her that as long as there have been drinkers with an “any port in a storm” attitude, there is just no telling what concoctions have been invented that nobody wanted to brag about.

Was there a splash of vermouth in it? I don’t know, but I like wine, so it didn’t matter.  By the way, it helps if you’d had a snifter of cognac before you go out for such fare as this.  Just know that in such circumstances, be prepared for your wife to point out that you are talking way too loudly, and that the people on the other side of the room would appreciate you calming down a bit.  Woof!

Harmonicas, Snakes, and Other Ways to Irritate a Dawg

Ol’ Topper used to like rock ‘n roll.  I miss that dawg.  He’d lay right down beside the drums and wag his tail to the beat.  He didn’t even seem to mind the heavy metal effects for guitars as long as we didn’t make him wear the headphones.  The current batch of dawgs are not as sophisticated as those older ones when it comes to music.  But I still give ‘em a dose of it as often as I can hoping some proper culture will eventually take hold.

Oh, they’ll be patient with a little radio, and can even sleep with the TV on.  But they show no sign of discretion whether it is a music video or somebody cutting down a tree with a chainsaw.  Admittedly, I cannot always tell the difference either, unless I’m looking at the screen.  Even then there can be a problem, because some of the video footage these days doesn’t seem to have a lot to do with the instruments being played.  Sometimes I think they are playing the chain saw.

I recently took up the harmonica again at the request of some friends who thought it would be a nice touch to add to a few songs they were playing, but was not aware at first that those talents would be required.   Actually, I had been asked to fill in some rhythm guitar licks with a band for a couple of their upcoming gigs.  Two of the band members were old friends of mine, and I’d played with them in bands before.  So, I figured I generally knew what kinds of music they liked.  It sounded simple enough, so I agreed.

But on the night of first rehearsal, I was introduced as the guy who would do all the harmonica parts on their song list, and fill in with some rhythm guitar.  Their songlist did not include: “Oh Susannah”; “Old MacDonald Had a Farm”, “Chinese Breakdown”, or “Dixie”.  The learning curve was going to have some pretty sharp turns in it, and would have to be taken at high speeds.  I was going to need to find a harmonica teacher that could get me up to speed in a few short weeks, and had no idea where to locate one.

I’ve heard a lot of songs in my life, and have played a few of them, so I expected to fall into some familiar patterns with ease.  But these other musicians were resourceful and clever.  They came up with a list that not only consisted of songs I did not know how to play, but had not even heard before.  Practice, memorization and rehearsal took over my life, and at a time when I was already busy enough to make a good night’s sleep a luxury.  For weeks on end, mealtime became a quick pass through a drive-in fast food establishment so I could drip ketchup on my shirt while heading down the road to rehearsals.

I finally found a harmonica teacher located about as far away as possible from any other place I might have need to be, or want to go.  I had the teacher take a look at the songlist that was challenging me.  Then he got to hear me honk on the reeds a few times to let him know how good I was.  He said it would take me about ten years to accomplish what I said I had to be able to do in just three short weeks.

He kindly helped me realize that I also needed to buy a few new harmonicas, and have my old ones completely overhauled.  As luck would have it, he just happened to be in a position to make those services available to me, and at prices well below the price of buying a new car.

Practice became a constant state of affairs ’til my lips began to blister.  Jumping from “Old MacDonald” to cross harp blues was a bit of a stretch.  Picking out a “Howlin’ Wolf” riff for some reed bending exercise, I went to work.  Lila Bea and Sir Benson Zipper Dee Doo Dah were in the den with me, and Im sure they were thinking it was about time for a dawg biscuit.  When I started hitting the high notes, Lila joined in note perfect, and Zipper ran upstairs to see if the buzzer had gone off on the stove.  I kept playing and Lila kept singing along sounding more like “Howlin’ Wolf” than I did.

Zipper came back downstairs and joined in the song.  He can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and soon had thrown Lila off key as well.  Their song began to stray, and the blues took on more harsh tones of just plain old barking.  It was no complement to my masterful playing at all, but was a criticism.  I stopped long enough to put them both outside for which they seemed grateful.  After that, I had no further need of their audience.  I would save my performance for those more properly authorized to offer harsh criticism, and would have no trouble finding them at all.

Once outside, the dawgs started looking about for a game to play.  One of their favorites is to find a stick laying on the ground, and bark at it.  Then, one of ‘em will pick up the stick and run with it while the other chases along trying to take it away from them.  It is particularly amusing to them if the stick decides to move on its own, and evidently one of them did.

Copperheads move about this time of year looking for a few last meals before holing up for the winter.  A copperhead is not known for its sense of humor, and shows little patience with being made the object of a tug-of-war.  Luckily for Lila, a copperhead only has one biting end, and Zipper was doing business with it at the time.  All this was unbeknownst to me, for I was inside involved in philharmonic bliss.

Taking a break to grab a beer, and eat some ‘tater chips so I could go back down later and blow soggy bits of ‘em into my harmonica, I let the puppies back into the house.  They both went upstairs as far away from the music room as they could get, and found a place to lay down.  It was sometime later that I noticed Zipper was lethargic, and drooling like a Saint Bernard.  I wiped his mouth with a dirty dish rag, and put both hounds back outside before they threw up on the carpet.  I was thinking there was no telling what kind of nastiness they’d been eating, but at the time, I didn’t know it had been a snake.

Brenda came home.  That was a clear indication that honkin’ practice needed to stop for awhile, so I let the puppies back in.  Lila Bea ran around in her usual zany way, but Zipper was moving slowly, so I figured he must really be sick.  That’s when we noticed the swelling under his chin.  It looked like he’d swallowed a baseball, and it had stuck in his gullet.

We arrived at the vet less than an hour before they closed, and it was a good thing.  Zip might not have made it through the night without medical attention.  He was diagnosed as most likely having some kind of allergic reaction to a toxic venom, and was given a shot to counteract it.  They also gave us a bottle of pills to shove down his throat twice a day for the next couple of weeks.  Giving pills to Boston Terriers is not much different from trying to give them to a cat.  You would think that this ordeal would have made an impression on Zipper, but I don’t think it did.

I asked the vet if this might be a learning experience for Zipper, and if there were any chance he might be more cautious of snakes in the future.  The vet smiled at me in that way that you do when about to point out the obvious, and said:

“No, they’re dawgs.  They don’t learn–not about cars, and not about snakes.”

The vet was kind enough to remind us of a few things to buy while we were there, as he had bills to pay.  Lucky for us that he did, because we were very distracted at the time thinking only about our poor dawg.

It’s true what the vet said about dawgs not learning.  Looking back at all the things I’ve tried to teach them, I realize I’ve been running a most pathetic school for dawgs.  They don’t even want to learn stuff normal dawgs do, much less the systematic behavior patterns human beings wish to impose on them.  Besides the dismal failure of music lessons, they aren’t too good at helping out with the chores around here, either.  They don’t seem to catch on to machinery, and seem irritated whenever we crank up coffee grinders, vacuum cleaners, or lawn mowers.

I’ve given up on getting my hounds to ride the motorcycle with me.  They can’t reach the foot pegs, and seem to not want to lean properly into curves.  Every time I come to a stop sign, Lila Bea gets off to chase a squirrel or sump’n.  Sir Benson Zipper Dee Doo Dah is too nervous to ride very far, and won’t keep his goggles on, much less wear a helmet.  I should have known they had no affection for it by the fact that they always go to the far end of the yard when I crank it up.  It is a curiosity that they’ve learned what the sound of a motorcycle is, but still think it’s okay to chase a wiggling stick.

How I Handled The “Shakespeare” Question

As an undergraduate full of a very unearned sense of personal worth (and dumb as a frog in a ballet class), I had to choose a research topic for a paper in one of a series of courses I was taking on theater history.  I’d read “Is Shakespeare Dead?” by Mark Twain, and thought this might be a fresh topic.  I must have also thought I was the only person to have ever read it.  I was completely unaware that many scholars had also tackled that curiosity.  As a matter of fact, I had no idea at all at the time, that the question about the true authorship of Shakespeare’s works was the most academic question ever debated in English literature.

In class, each of us on the appointed day, stood and announced our thesis statement.  When I offered my theme, proudly displaying what I considered to be brilliance, the professor smiled & said:

“Well, go ahead.  If you look really hard, you just might find something on it.”  

This particular professor’s personal addiction to sarcasm should have tipped me off, but I was young, and eager, and clueless.  As we left class at the end of the period, one of my friends and fellow classmates turned to me and said:

“Van, you’re an idiot.”

Well, I’ve always lived my life in such a way to expect that to be said to me often, and possibly in reference to many of my habitual behaviors, so I didn’t catch on to the true meaning of it.  It could have been for any number of things I’d said or done over the course of the day, or of the week for that matter.  I just took it as a term of endearment as was common of us back in those days of peace and brotherly love.

I went to the library.  I discovered that I would not be able to check out everything that touched on what was deemed “THE academic question”, because it was the weight of those materials that allowed gravity to keep the library building anchored to the earth.  The possible resources would make up a colossal library all by themselves!

Just compiling a bibliography would take longer than the time allowed for the project twenty times over.  A juggler would do better trying to keep a boxcar load of frozen turkeys in the air.  I was soon over my head and drowning in some of the most complicated essays and debates (some brilliant, some arrogant and obtuse, and some I could not make head nor tails of)  I’d ever seen in my life.  I’d made thirteen trips to the student book store to buy more index cards, and still didn’t have enough, and wouldn’t be able to afford enough pencils to write it all down.  Had I insisted on footnoting everything available, I’d still be at it today some four decades later.

Facing a now impossible deadline, I struggled to find ANYTHING that would help me wrap up this never-ending project.  I found it in the argument that a popular likeness of Shakespeare was “similar” to a portrait of the 17th Earl of Oxford, and another of Sir Francis Bacon.  The suggestion that the man from Stratford-upon-Avon was a commoner, and being pictured with signet ring, nobleman’s ruff, and sword of state might be evidence of a false identification, and it caught my eye.  That’s it?  A similarity?  They are basing their argument on possible look-a-likes? Forgetting all else, I focused on that one thought.

I took an old promotional headshot of myself playing King Charles VII of France in a production of George Bernard Shaw’s “Saint Joan” from an earlier production at the same college.  Even though the styles were from another period (Charles died more than one hundred years before Shakespeare was born), still the picture could be claimed to be the great poet, from strictly a likeness point of view, just as easily as some of the others being presented to the argument.  Aha!  This could be my ticket out of this mess!

Thinking myself to be a master wit, I attached it to my paper suggesting that my likeness looked more like Shakespeare than did Edward de Vere, or Bacon.  I actually walked into class, and turned it in.  I handed it to the professor, and looked him in the face smiling with all of the confidence of a pig breaking into the front of the line in a slaughterhouse.

Skydivers consider their sport to be exhilarating, but most of them like to use parachutes.  I think it is a good idea to have one, and have it with you prior to jumping out of an airplane.  Experience may be a good teacher, but not always a timely one.  I had no idea how fast I was falling, but when it was time to pull the ripcord, it was too late to suit up properly.

I have often struggled with the stupidity of that decision, but perhaps it was the absolute naivety of my person that warranted some charitable consideration.  Submitting the conclusion to be (or not to be) on the question of appearances, my image having more similarities with the bard, that I was in fact William Shakespeare, did not get me the grade I wanted.  But thank goodness it also did not get the one it deserved, either.  It did, however, garner some very good, and very practical advice:

“Very funny Mr. Brown, but please don’t think you should ever try getting away with this kind of  Bul@#%!* in graduate school!”

I think some kind of make up work was allowed along with the urging that I strongly consider a directed study in the comedies if I thought I was “so damn funny…”.  Eventually after trial by fire, water, and ordeal, I did complete my bachelor’s degree, and I am not ashamed of it.

Some time later, due to an oversight in the university admissions office, I found myself in graduate school.  A research class pointed out to me that instead of pursuing the obvious, we were to seek out the obscure and esoteric.  That was quite a relief for me, because evidently my study habits had never allowed much of anything to appear all that obvious to me, anyway.  So with all the astute mental absorption of Don Quixote, I charged the academic windmills, “damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead”.  It was the same as if I’d been a blind man eagerly and with great confidence, trying to get hired as a taxi driver in Paris.

A dear friend who did not wish for me to just be an anonymous face in the crowd, helped the faculty put a label on me.  Through this charity, word about my attempt with the Shakespeare question reached the ears of a professor in the graduate school.  I will always be grateful.

The teacher of the graduate research class was as serious as a loaded twelve gauge shotgun less than ten feet away.  He’d received his PhD from Yale at the age of twenty-seven, so he had never had the luxury of taking time out to play, or goof off.  I, on the other hand, had been luckier in that respect.  He considered me an oddity in a setting intended for higher learning.

I found out he had also talked with one of my other professors who was struggling with the prospects of advising me, and knew of my interests in wanting to script some of the writings of Samuel Langhorne Clemens for a one-man show.  Rumors of my “Shakespeare” term paper was out and about frolicking with the squirrels all over campus, and may have been cause of a “So, that explains it…” comment I caught wind of while walking by an office where two professors were talking together.  The very next day, my research teacher called me to the side, and offered:

“Mr. Brown, if you think you are William Shakespeare, why do you all of a sudden want to become Mark Twain?”

That is when I knew that all of the politics and money in the world (of which I had very little) would not bring about a definitive degree with my name on it.  But the question was fair enough.  Another professor, who was also my advisor, thought the Mark Twain path was too crowded,  and that I might get run over out there with my lack of experience.  He suggested I consider doing a show as George Bernard Shaw, since that pathway was wide open, and had virtually no traffic on it to interfere with my travels.  I thought, while it was interesting, it was untravelled because so few could find it on the map.  Folks in colleges knew who Shaw was whether they’d actually read him or not.  But the average man on the street did not know who he was, and would not likely be willing to pay to see a tribute performance of him.

Besides, there was another bit to consider in the area of compatibilities.  I had a better grasp of colloquialisms and dialects of my region than I did those of Bernard Shaw’s world.  Also, Shaw was a vegetarian.  Twain would eat a porterhouse steak, and his vegetable of preference was tobacco.

After a period of toying with the conflict between my interests and goals, and those of the institution I had empowered to determine what I was supposed to think, I came to a realization.   I addressed the idea that had haunted me since the third grade: every student dreams constantly of just finishing up, and graduating on to do other things.  In other words, the very purpose of going to school seemed to be to simply get out.

By then, my fondness for the humor and vision of Twain was causing me to think I understood it.  If you choose to model yourself in a fashion to a hero, you might want to find something they said that will drive you.  I looked at a quotation that has often been repeated:

“I never allowed schooling to interfere with my education.” -Mark Twain

(He said the same thing with variable wording several times during the later years of his life, but the thought was not an original one.  It is likely attributable to the earlier writings of the author, Grant Allen.)

Years later when one of my sons adopted this as his motto, and allowed it to accompany his photograph in his high school annual, I was so proud.  As parents, we often feel validated to some degree whenever we see our children emulate us in some way.

But my thoughts now go back to that day in “gradual school” that may have been a significant turning point in my life.  I was in class listening to a scholarly man speak.  He spoke English, but I realized he was using it at a level beyond my reach or understanding.  When the bell rang that day, instead of going to another class to be reminded of my ineptnesses, I just…went home.

Perhaps it was premature, I cannot say for sure.  I cannot go back and change the past, and Mark Twain thought it would be foolish to want to.  I agree with that.  But it is not enough to just allow that witticism to become your mantra, or your excuse for quitting anything.  As I continued to read his writing, two other of Mark Twain’s thoughts come along that should always be weighed in with it for balance:

“You can’t reach old age by another man’s road…”

and perhaps the most appropriate thought with which to close:

“Every time you stop a school, you will have to build a jail. What you gain at one end you lose at the other. It’s like feeding a dog on his own tail. It won’t fatten the dog.”

Van Brown performing as "Mark Twain" -photo by Jerry Burns, StudioBurns, Atlanta, GA

What Should We Re-think?

For those who feel they must constantly dance to entertain the keeper of the key to the food locker, understand that there are other people in this world who are at peace with their natural world. Whenever our culture finds them, we call them strange, but can you imagine how they must laugh at us?  While you watch this, take your mind to a clear, uncluttered place on a quiet day with no memories of anything you’ve ever seen on the news, or read in a history book:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaGUY5ULTok&feature=related

With so many suggestions as to how we can fix government(some more absurd than others), the question does come up of how we managed to get ourselves governed in the first place.  I have written elsewhere of the processes, but for now, lets go back into the history of human beings before a time when it became necessary to write anything down.

For people to understand the acquisition of government, they have to know about pre-tribal cultures–merely bands of people at a time when it had not yet occurred to anyone how powerful it would be to find a way to lock up the food & control its distribution. Authority to do that came by convincing the others that a chieftain, a medicine man, or holy man had access to, and a relationship with the very cause of nature itself. People still fall for that even today. We call it “civilization”.

Again, I find myself recommending that you might read:

Beyond Civilization by Daniel Quinn

One man asked if reality gets in the way.  Perhaps it can.   But I suspect reality does not get in the way nearly as much as mythology does. I repeat a metaphor here I’ve used before, but just listen to all the people who argue about whether the boat should be painted red, or should it be blue, with no regard for the fact their boat is sinking. But to them, the only thing that is important is the incredibly powerful influence of their belief disorders.

Perhaps the most intelligent work on the subject during modern times might be:

The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell

Sadly, it will be true that those whose minds are closed will be least likely to read any of this.  They will not because of fear: the fear of facing challenges to dogmatic opinions that they have no logical or rational way to oppose.  They will just jump into their safety nets, and keep their blinders on.  They will feel proud of their steadfast position to hold on to their “principles” even when their principles call for them to be certain the Easter Bunny actually brings the eggs!

And I’m not just talking here about religious bigotry that promotes exclusion and hatred (in the name of love), but for all of those who are so inclined to swallow the ideologies of their sacred political parties (while demonizing the opposition).  That intelligent dialogue is always defeated in the face of emotional rhetoric is not new.  The issue was recognized way back in ancient Greece, but very few of our citizens ever read about that any more.

More recently, there were the debates between Stephen Douglas and Abraham Lincoln.  Douglas held to ideas that would be critically important to the Democratic Party for a long time just as Lincoln helped formulate the mindset of the Republicans.  That in so many ways, the parties swapped sides with each other on a lot of domestic policy issues is not really noticed by a population that doesn’t actually study history.

Further, those who cannot see the comparisons between our present day congress and the one in office leading up to the war between the states, make up the bulk of the emotional flag wavers of both parties that will set the closed-minded allegiances on parade for the next election.  They do not recognize that the failure to have dialogue and seek reasonable compromise for the common good was what sent the predecessors home doomed to engage in a war between brothers.

While we should hope for a return to sensible dialogue, it is not likely to happen as long as the current Democratic and Republican parties remain what they have both become–rotten.

The following article sums up a lot of what I feel about it, and I’d appreciate your comments after reading it:

http://www.truth-out.org/goodbye-all-reflections-gop-operative-who-left-cult/1314907779

 

 

 

“Certification”: What Does Your Diploma Mean?

“Sometimes I wonder whether the world is being run by smart people who are putting us on, or by imbeciles who really mean it.” –Mark Twain

Recently, a terrible scandal came out about some widespread cheating in schools.  Was it students cheating on tests, or plagiarizing research papers?  No.  It was about teachers and school administrators changing the scores on standardized tests in order to make it look like they were doing a good job.  When the news of this broke, and the evidence came pouring in, I was heart-broken over the long range harm it would do to the children, and to our nation as a whole.

http://abcnews.go.com/US/atlanta-cheating-178-teachers-administrators-changed-answers-increase/story?id=14013113

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/09/13/los-angeles-schools-cheat_n_960337.html

This is not to say that cheating is not also at the student level (see links below).  I’m not talking about looking at crib notes, or copying someone’s homework, but participating in fraud to get a high SAT score, or hiring a ghost writer to complete your term paper, thesis, or dissertation.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/28/nyregion/7-long-island-students-charged-in-sat-fraud-scheme.html?_r=1 

http://chronicle.com/article/The-Shadow-Scholar/125329/

But the main concern here is that things have gotten so decadent that even teachers and principals cheat.  Of course the dishonesty is unconscionable, but what jumped out at me was something else.  The students aren’t actually learning what they are supposed to be learning, but our system was willing to say they were.  Furthermore, by some of the confessions, many of the reported scores weren’t even close to the truth.  What does that say about the value of high school diplomas these days?  How long and to what degree has this been going on?

Sometimes I listen to people talk on television that are supposed to be leaders and pillars of the community.  And, when I hear evidence of incredibly fuzzy thinking in their poorly structured statements, I suspect the disparity between what we say we teach, and what has been taught is huge.  Doesn’t it sometimes make you want to question their credentials?  It makes you wonder if not only should they be removed from any office of responsibility, perhaps they shouldn’t even have a driver’s license.

Maybe the real questions we should be asking is what do we need to certify, and what might we need to just verify in some other way?  How good are we as a people in doing the things we say we do?  Have you ever received a certificate you considered rather meaningless outside of social acceptance within the circle of those who gave it to you?

That statement was not intended to imply that social acceptance is not valuable.  Of course it can be.  And it begins in early childhood.  I’m sure a lot of what I learned was discovered on playgrounds at recess, which is a thing of the past at most schools nowadays.  Times change, and today the world seems a bit more paranoid than it was when I was a kid.  But, I could be wrong.  Maybe children could benefit from a little time to decide on their own how to interact with others.  But some feel allowing that freedom would just be courting disaster.

Maybe it is freedom itself that is feared.  History seems to suggest that whenever decisions get regulated, the regulators don’t easily give up their rigid controls.  Besides, freedom is not always predictable where behavior is concerned, especially in groups of people who have no internalized commitment to the intent of your rules.  I will admit to being fearful at times if I’m surrounded by people who are controlled by little other than gravity.

So, while we give lip service to freedom, and at the same time to rigid social control, how do we intend to shape the future generations, and by what standards will we measure our success or failure?  What is it that the children need to know, and be able to do?  How will we (or they) know when that is accomplished?  Put some kind of a label on them?  Check it off the list?  One of the differences between a man and a squirrel is that the squirrel must find the acorn, and would never check it off the list if he has not actually done so.  People do it all the time.  Trucks, trains and planes crash and we find out later that some “required” safety inspection procedure didn’t actually happen.  Oil rigs fail, and once in awhile, somebody gets shot with an “unloaded” gun.

Sometimes, people (and groups of people) will lie to themselves about some accomplishment when no outside objective opinion is needed.  And whenever it is easy, whatever might be better viewed objectively might give in to a subjective evaluation.  But in life, some things must be known, such as time, distance, and the correct dosage, and cannot be left to speculation or to some self-serving opinion.  Some things must be measured, and some things really need to be certified–not just checked off the list.

To be “certified” in many trade and professional career skill and understanding levels from welding to practicing medicine, a person needs to successfully complete tests.  These tests change over time as the social and legal demands, or as the other professionals in the chosen fields raise the bar for approval and acceptance.  Training programs, and the teachers in them, teach to the test.  The teachers don’t singularly make the test for their students, nor do they grade them.  In other words, if you pass the bar exam, it means more than your teacher just liked you personally.

It is important to note that those who have a high rate of success preparing their students to face certification board exams are in great demand.  But in our public and private schools for our children (K through MBA), the teacher who gives the “easy A” is in great demand.  The result is that a high school diploma, and now many college degrees might be viewed to “certify” less than the journeyman skill levels of craftspeople in the work force from plumbers, electricians, welders, and construction mechanics.  Even doctors, dentists, nurses, accountants, and attorneys (who’s “board certifications” may be more important than their university degrees in order to be licensed to do business) know this is true.

Instead of operating schools where every child is required to attend, open learning centers where any child (or adult for that matter) that wants to learn can attend.  Under such a system, the cost of tuition for families in need of help would be no different than the mess we already have.  But it would be shameful for any culture to not want to educate their own children, and especially if those children want to learn.  Maybe those who do not want to be there, and those who do not wish to learn should be allowed to leave, and go do what they want to do.  Of course invite them to return and be welcomed should they change their minds.

There will be a huge cultural change under such a system, with the biggest paradigm shift being that the students will be seen a s the customers rather than just the products.  The irony is, that the tough teachers who are good at facilitating learning will have long lines of parents and students seeking their help, and those teachers will be able to demand respectable compensation.  The weak ones, as it is with many other professions, will either have to get better or eventually suffer having no customers at all.  You would never have to fire a teacher for not being any good; they’d just go out of business like any other service provider that couldn’t attract customers.

So, as a culture, and in so far as we as individuals can influence change, growth and development, what do we really want our schools to be?  What do we want them to do?  Be a social rite of passage (which is what they are now), or become centers for learning where students can prepare for the exams that “certify” various levels of accomplishment?

Should this begin at a local level?  Why not?  But no matter where it begins, for it to spread, the certifications will have to be verifiably meaningful for people outside the local area to accept them.  To accomplish that, the tests will have to be substantive.  They will probably need to come from, and be protected by a trustworthy outside source. Otherwise, it will be likely to become tainted with local urban myth, dogma, superstition, and populist ideological nonsense.  When that happens, it will become meaningless to others.

Since we have set arbitrary (archaic) time limits on learning, something ironic is happening:  The more our storehouse of knowledge grows, the more we feel we have to cut out of the curriculum.  A present day problem is getting the funds allocated to keep schools open, much less expand them.  Arguments surface over what is vital, and what is superfluous, and the polarization on issues always seems dogmatic.  Some of the arguments are as stupid as saying you can only afford one shoe, so which foot should you cut off?

Cut things from the curriculum?  Cut things from the storehouse of knowledge because we don’t think we have time to address them?  We already do that, and the dumbing down results should be obvious.  So much of what is stretched out over years could be taught in weeks if we would learn how.  In college some of us found out quickly that a lot of what we spent years trying to memorize wasn’t even true (ex: the mythology that our founding fathers were a bunch of single-minded religious fanatics, which is not true, but widely believed).

What would happen if we asked the students what they wanted to know about?  Might that be a little chaotic?  Well, it could be if nobody is prepared to answer their questions, or help them find the answers.  If students don’t want to learn anything the school is prepared to teach, perhaps we should let them leave.

We need to ask ourselves if dispensing knowledge is the goal, or is it regimental patterns and controlled social habits that we’re after.  If compliance is the hoped for result, we might want to recognize that one of the greatest enemies of compliance could very well be education itself.  What if everybody could, and did think for themselves?  I’m sure some children are taught (according to what we’ve institutionalized) what they have to do, and perhaps many more don’t even learn that.  But what about teaching them what they can do, and opening up their minds to so many of the unanswered questions about this universe?  Would having an open mind to ideas and discussions be a worthy accomplishment for a student?  Perhaps it would not seem so from the point of view of those who would want to teach without one.

As a nation, do we need universal standards in a lot of areas of expertise that we can trust to be valid?  Probably so.  But maybe in some areas, we might need the lack of standard to be a guide: perhaps even an allowance for creativity.  Sometimes, “standards of excellence” can get whittled down to a target that the “average” can reach for, thus become boring to the brilliant child, and impossible for the challenged.  Besides, a lot of children are just not average.  We have to address the needs and wants of the very bright, and also those who, by circumstance, have little hope of even competing with “average”.

Perhaps some things that go on between teacher and student can be very valuable, but difficult to grade or test outside of how the student and the teacher see it.   But if the community is expected to pay for it, the community needs to be able to see benefit or value, so some kind of measure needs to determine success or failure.  So how do we do it?  From talking to people in the field of special education, I get the feeling that, as a group, they have a high degree of commitment for wanting to do the right thing.  Maybe we should ask them.

So am I proposing we destroy or dismantle departments of education?   No, but we might want to demand some re-direction of emphasis.  Do we not claim to be a “government of the people, for the people, and by the people”?  But even if we only define ourselves as a culture, how can we continue unless we care about, and take action to participate in the growth and development of each generation within it?  No culture seems to be able to survive without doing that–not even yeasts or bacteria (though they may not do it consciously).

But do we even need to change anything?  Are things just fine as they are?  Right now, we live in a country where every state in the union issues driver’s licenses to people who do not know how to safely operate motorized vehicles, but we do increase the number of laws that require padding to protect them when they collide with each other.  Do you realize how unnecessary posting a lot of our traffic laws would be if every driver actually understood the reason for them, and was committed to the intent of them?  Oh, you wouldn’t eliminate all errors, because now and then, even some intelligent people make stupid decisions.

I wish to state my opinion that we should want to educate all of our citizens, and for a very selfish reason: uneducated people are usually made subservient to educated people.  That makes me suspect of anyone who does not want us to become an educated population.  What, or who do they wish us to be subservient to?

By this, I don’t wish to imply we should only fear the powerful.  Some people are just afraid of universal scholarship.  Why?  Maybe subconsciously they see themselves as uneducated, and may not be able to compete.  But more likely, it is because they have some rather narrow-minded beliefs that may not be able to hold up to the pressure.  And, as you well know, folks get nervous when you start messing with their beliefs, whether what they believe is true or not–it doesn’t matter.

So how should we go about educating our citizens, and how should we “certify” that we have done so?  Is it just about compliance, or should we want some measure of commitment (or at least some validating evidence that it exists)?  I have a current valid driver’s license renewable every few years, and only compliance is required.  But my marriage license is renewable daily.  They all are, aren’t they?  And wouldn’t you agree that it is renewable by the evidence of commitments as well as contractual compliance?  The wedding was an event; the marriage (as is learning) is a process.  Well, learning can be an event, but we usually call that “trauma”.

While we consider our options, take a look at one system to see if it gives you any ideas:

http://www.ncee.org/programs-affiliates/consortium-board-examination/certified-board-examination-systems/university-of-cambridge-international-examinations-cambridge-igcse-and-cambridge-advanced/

The question of funding will come up.  At this time, public school is funded by taxes.  Whether taxes are fair or not is not the point of this discussion.  Right now, we have a system that pays the money to the schools.  Why not make the same monies available as “tuition” credits of those who want to go learn something?  And what level is it to be cut off?  What would be so wrong to have centers of learning where anybody at any age might go to get questions answered?  Maybe set aside a place (school) where folks could go to get some training so they might improve themselves.

With a little more knowledge and information, some of our fellow citizens might be able to improve their standard of living, or their quality of life.  Don’t you ever want to just know something even if it isn’t going to be on a test?  Curiosity does seem to be a strong motivator sometimes.  How many non-fiction books are sold every day to people not enrolled in any classes, and aren’t preparing for a test?  Some?  Lots?  Most of ‘em?

Some people believe the government should not have any obligation or responsibility to pay for college or trade schools.  The argument is often about individual responsibility to seek and pay for higher learning.  Higher than what?  If it is immoral, unethical or unwarranted to pay for welding school or college, where is the rightful authority then, to pay for high school?  By that measure, what is the authority to pay for even the first grade?  But why not offer learning opportunities to every citizen regardless of age?  Should we continue to perpetuate the lie that the only necessary learning was done by the age of eighteen; twenty-two, or thirty for that matter?  There will be a cost, but I ask you to consider the tremendous costs we already pay for not doing it.

It is our combined and universal responsibility to adress these matters if we are to survive and do well as a people.  We need to adopt the idea that education is desirable, and affordable to everyone.  And we need to allow the individual student to decide what they want to learn, thus creating a market for qualified people who can facilitate that kind of learning.

Why is that so important to me?  Think about it: if you have an idea of what kind of skills, crafts, or professional abilities lead you to your pursuit of happiness, who other than you should be able to lay down your career path?  Further, if some state or national board must certify your competence by examination, wouldn’t you want to get the best help available to prepare for that test?  Of course you would!

So then, the students should hire the teachers (and with the help of parents and guardians who have an interest in the student’s well being) who can teach them what they want to learn.  And, the student should pay the teacher.  And the ability to pay tuition should be made available to every man, woman, and child.  I suspect it costs us more not to do that in the long run.

Obviously, citizens with little or no money should be provided with a way to get the tuition they need either by grant or by subsidy.  Keep in mind, that no funds would be needed to pay tuition for anybody that didn’t want to go to a school.  Also remember that the alternative is to not allow anyone to go to school, not even kindergarten, unless they are very rich.  That would certainly be a way to maintain huge cheap labor pools, but it would not be very culturally rewarding to society as a whole.  It will be, as it already is, up to the people to decide who gets help, and who doesn’t.  Under the current system, we more than pay for a benefit that, to some, seems to be producing something less than significant value.  I think we could do better.

Perhaps you don’t think we need a paradigm shift.  For those who would still defend the status quo, take a look at this video, and see if there are some things in it that resonate with you;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=zDZFcDGpL4U