Category Archives: US History

Why November and a surprise about voting and the constitution

Samhain                                                              Fallowturn Moon

Never reflected on the fact that our elections come very near the beginning of Samhain; we regenerated our political life when the temperate climates head toward barrenness.  I don’t know this, but I imagine there is a direct correlation; that is, I imagine we hold elections after the final harvest.

Let me look.  Nothing on that, but wikipedia notes that Tuesday avoids the Sabbath, the traditional market days and made voting easier for farmers who would have to drive into the county seat to vote, a journey of a day or more.  See more below from wikianswers:

“Tuesday was chosen as, in 1845, the United States was a predominantly agrarian society. Most people traveled by horse and buggy. Farmers needed a day to get to the county seat, a day to vote, and a day to get back, without interfering with the Sabbath. So that left Tuesday and Wednesday and, as Wednesday was market day, Tuesday was chosen.[7]

… An election date in November was seen as useful because the harvest would have been completed (important in an agrarian society) and the winter storms would not yet have begun in earnest (a plus in the days before paved roads and snowplows).”

This puts elections, and by default government, behind the Sabbath, the market day and the growing season in terms of communal values.  Since the Celts began their new year with Samhain [and I do, too], it also places electoral choice at the beginning of a new year.

For most of our life as a nation, government was, in fact, something done during the fallow season.  That’s why many (most?) of our legislatures meet in the winter months, e.g. Minnesota runs from January to some date in May.  In our original constitution determination of voting eligibility was left to the states, the result: the only persons eligible to vote were white men with property* which, in general, meant farmers, so the work of government had to adjust to the rhythm’s of their lives. Continue reading Why November and a surprise about voting and the constitution

It’s Science’s Fault

Fall                                                                                     Fallowturn Moon

 

Here’s a “timeless principle” I found on Rep. Aikin’s website today:

Timeless Principles

George Washington

News image“I wish from my soul that the legislature of this State could see a policy of a gradual Abolition of Slavery.” (letter to Lawrence Lewis, August 4, 1797) — George Washington was the Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army and the first President of the United States of America

I get the how.   But still I wonder about the anti-science perspective that gains traction in an age of vaccines, space flight, electric cars and digital communications.  After shock and awe, I wonder about the why of it.

Not how.  I know how:  1. Minds foreclosed by religious dogma, which BTW is different from theology which can admit searching and questioning.  Dogma are matters of certainty necessary to faith in a particular religious community. 2.  Minds wedded to an ideology that functions like a dogma.  Doctrinaire Marxists, objectivists and libertarians are examples here.

I’ve been thinking about the anti-science movement since the Sierra Club legislative awards ceremony on Tuesday.  You need go no further unfortunately than the House of Representative’s Committee on Science, Space and Technology to find it alive and voting.    NASA, the Department of Energy, EPA, ATSDR, NSF, FAA, NOAA, National Institute of Standards and Technology, FEMA, the U.S. Fire Administration, and United States Geological Survey all fall within the partial or total overview of this committee.

Our lady parts ambassador Todd Aikin sits on that committee. (see an example of his website below)  Also on the committee from a Georgia university town and a medical doctor: ATHENS, Ga. (AP) — Georgia Rep. Paul Broun said in videotaped remarks that evolution, embryology and the Big Bang theory are “lies straight from the pit of hell” meant to convince people that they do not need a savior.

An entry on the California Aggie blog adds this:  “Sitting with Akin on the affectionately-dubbed “Anti-Science Committee” is Paul Broun, (see above) a creationist who believes the Earth is 9,000 years old, Mo Brooks and Jim Sensenbrenner, both global-warming deniers, and Ralph Hall, who blocked a bill to fund science research by essentially forcing the opposing candidates to vote in favor of pornography.”

This last gem of a politician is, wait for it, the chair of the committee.  Chew on that one for awhile.

Continue reading It’s Science’s Fault

The Healing

Lugnasa                                                        New (Autumn) Moon

Woollies tonight.  Warren, Scott, Stefan, Mark and Frank.  We met in Wayzata on the grounds of the old Cenacle Retreat Center, now a treatment center for addiction.  Sheepshead buddy Dick Rice works there.  They have a retreat house that we’ve used from time to time as a meeting place and Warren chose it.

We met with Jonathan Odell, author of The Healing.  Kate read it and told me to read it, but I didn’t get around to it until a couple of weeks ago.  If you’re reading this blog and have any interest at all in the Civil War, post-Civil War south, from the slave and freed persons’ perspective, read this book.  It’s a moving story, told from the perspective of a freed woman and her life both on the plantation and after the war.

It’s a powerful evocation of womanhood and the mystical strength given to women through the act of creation.  It’s an equally powerful evocation of what could never be taken from the slave and what, in this story, certain slaves claim.

Jonathan’s writing process and his story as a writer made me cheer.  It can be done.  Requires stamina and courage.  He’s a strong and amazing person.

Seeing Ourselves Through the Eyes of Others

Lugnasa                                                       Garlic Planting Moon

Just read a very interesting couple of threads on Quora about how persons from other cultures view US culture.   What’s most interesting  to me is the reveal achieved by others, showing us aspects of our common life, aspects we pay little attention to (the most likely reservoir of culture, BTW), for example:

American culture and society is a naturally high-trust society.

…religious diversity here has made me realize how many south american customs are rooted in catholicism,

and on this set of questions on another thread:  What parts of American culture are not easily understood by foreigners?  The list below is a composite from individual answers in this thread:

The view of American peculiarities depends on the cultural origin of the respondent.

What is generally found peculiar:

  • Permissive gun laws
  • Lawsuits
  • Euphemisms
  • Individualism
  • Resistance to the metric system
  • Fashion: chiefly ugly footwear

What Asians find more peculiar:

  • Less filial piety – disrespect for the elderly
  • “Cutting off” children upon adulthood
  • Manners: Small talk, sarcasm, showing off, pitching
  • Protecting individual rights to an extreme
  • Blurry social hierarchy
  • The notion that you can be happy without success
  • “Going Dutch” and tipping in restaurants
  • Drinking ice water year-round
  • Overmedication

What Europeans find more notable:

  • Manners: Exclamative language and loudness, enthusiasm, friendliness, liberal use of humour
  • Moral contradictions
  • Social injustice: healthcare, unemployment payments
  • Politics: Tolerance for lobbying, the Right Wing, the election system
  • Psychological traits: high trust, self-deprecation, diversity, openness
  • A culture of meetings
  • Sports
  • Subtitles instead of dubbing
  • Restaurants: boxing leftovers, waiting in line

Note: This list is to be treated as merely an index of motifs found in the answers below and does not attempt to construct a stereotype. Each item here should be read in context with the rationale of the individual answers where it is found

More on this later.

 

Labor Day

Lugnasa                                                                 Garlic Planting Moon

The current awareness of the 1% and the 99% is due to the Occupy movement last year.  It is a useful division to recall on Labor Day.  Why?  Labor Day is a holiday that reaches out to the 99% of us that do not have inherited wealth, do not have elevators in our garages or fixed wing sail boats at our (non-existent) waterside property.

It puts a day on the calendar when we remember the value of labor unions, those democratically controlled voices of the 99% in organized industries and businesses.  Why are labor unions important?  In a contest of power between the 1% and the 99% who normally wins?  Yes.  If you don’t have money, you have to have people to have power.

(“Every cook should learn to govern – Lenin”)

Now, power is not necessary as long as you want other people to set your wage structures, to decide if you deserve health care insurance, to have the opportunity to fire you based on their whim.  If, however, you want a voice on these matters that directly effect you and your family then you need an organization that answers to you, not to the bosses.

Back in the 1950’s and 1960’s my hometown supplied workers to General Motors factories in nearby Anderson, Indiana.  Thanks to the UAW families headed by persons who did not graduate from high school had incomes sufficient to own homes, boats and take vacations.  They had health insurance adequate to remove health care from their list of worries.  They had grievance committees and union representatives who would stand with you in case of a dispute with a foreman.

Those days are gone, have been gone for a long while, but I remember them well because I grew up in those times.  The Mcjobs that many of the same people have to settle for provide minimal wages, few benefits and no protections.  We have seen the hollowing out of the middle class and especially the working class jobs, jobs where college was not a requirement.  Where hard work and honesty could result in a decent life.  Those jobs have become vanishingly few.

Who, General Motors, will buy your cars?  Who, Best Buy, will shop in your stores?  Who, Kitchen Aid, will buy your appliances?  Who will buy homes?  It is a sad and ironic truth that as capitalism pushes harder and harder for more productivity per worker, gains achieved often through robots and computer aided manufacturing processes, it loses the customers who drive America’s consumer economy.

If you’re an anti-union person, and many are, ask yourself whether you want a voice at work or not.  If you don’t, maintain your position.

These Strange Times

Lugnasa                                                   Hiroshima Moon

Pope’s butler accused of theft.  Wait.  The pope has a butler?  Shootings yesterday at Texas A&M.  The Sikh Temple in Wisconsin last week.  Aurora the 20th of July.  Can anyone else hear a tear in the moral fabric of the universe?

Not to mention that yesterday the stock market was down because of news from Asia.  Asia?  What happened to the euro?  It’s true that bad news always happens and good news is not, usually, news at all.  Still.

Let’s throw in the news from  Europe’s Cryosat that the polar ice has begun to retreat

(at) a loss of 900 cubic kilometers of ice in the last year. That’s 50 percent more than computer models predicted would melt.

A lack of ice is good news for shipping, and oil and gas exploration, but dark ocean water warms the air above more than reflective ice, a “positive feedback” that accelerates warming. Research suggests the Arctic is warming 2-4 times faster than the rest of the Northern Hemisphere. So what? This warming is nudging the jet stream north, to the tune of 1 mile a year, 18 feet/day.   (paul douglas weatherblog)

Predictions of the end times have a 100% failure rating (so far), so I’m not going there, but bizarre times?  Yes.

Of all of these, the news I understand least are the three shootings.  Like the man here who killed his three daughters, there may be a psychological explanation.  Certainly there is a psychological explanation.  Has to be.  But explanation does not serve.  Tracing the inner path to these crimes leaves us with the crime in the end.

I’d like to know, if anybody does know, the incidence of these or similar crimes in other cultures.  Are we truly aberrant or is it a statistical phenomenon, a law of large numbers reality?

Of all these, the news that worries me the most comes from the cryosat satellite.  This summer was miserable for us and horrific for much of the country.  In this case I understand the cause.  I drive one.  So do you.  I use electricity.  So do you.  We have treated global warming as a topic for next year.  For the next generation.  Guess what?

It is next year.  And we’re the next generation.

The Growing Season Begins to Wind Down

Summer                                                             Hiroshima Moon

On Wednesday we move from the growing season emphasis of early summer to the harvest emphasis of late summer.  The Celtic calendar marks that change on August 1st which begins the season of Lughnasa, a first fruits time.  Yes, harvesting has happened before this, but now the inflection is on crops for sale, trade or preservation.

[ in precipitation in during the growing season (after Meehan et al. 2004 and Bowen et al. 2005)]

If any of you saw the opening ceremony of the Olympics, the first, agrarian phase of Great Britain before the industrial revolution is the time the Celtic calendar marks.  It is not a calendar for an industrialized or a technological society though it has an important place in both.  Industrialization and technology both move us away from direct experience of the
natural world and especially from the source of our food.  The Celtic calendar gets its seasons from the botanical and meteorological rhythms, not the work day or the academic year or the never asleep world of the internet.

Those other rhythms, the Taylorized day or the instantaneous cyber world, lead us away from natural rhythms into a cultural space dominated by rationality, science and human control.  In the Celtic calendar the natural world rules, just as it does yet today, though we hide ourselves from it with thermostats, electric lights and high speed broadband.

This is not an either/or situation; there is a dialectic between the world of human artifice and the world which brings the thunder and the lightning and the rain, which grows the food, which gives us night and day.  Yet.  So many of us, in our air conditioned, wired, well-lit by electricity homes, obscure or forget or ignore that our food grows in the soil, the flesh of mother earth.  That it depends on water either from rain or from irrigation, this dependent of rain and replenishment of hidden aquifers.  That the sun which gives food the energy we need does so without human intervention or assistance.

All of our civilization has as its foundation, its literal without which nothing support, the vegetative world.  And we do not control it.  We can help it, nurture it, bless it, curse it, but we cannot make plants grow.  We can only provide or protect the conditions under which they do so.  In our amnesia about this simple, stark fact we pave over farmland, alter the chemical conditions under which plants grow, change their genetic patterns trying to extend our control, but all this begs the question.  How did the vegetative world get along without us?

The answer?  Just fine.  This is not a rant, this is a reflection of our current reality.  It is the hope of ancientrails that it can serve as one reminder.  One reminder of the essential, unique and healing power of the world beyond our control.

To Eat or Not to Eat? That Is Not a Question.

Summer                                                     Hiroshima Moon

When they announced the demolition of the Bennigans at Riverdale Mall, it surprised me because it felt like the whole mall just arrived a year or so ago.  It surprised me, but I wasn’t sad, because the Bennigan’s menu had gone from interesting to boring over the last couple of years.

As a result, the imminent arrival of a Chick-fil-a to replace it intrigued me.  I’d never eaten in one of these deep south fried chicken sandwich places, but I looked forward to the opportunity.

Not now.  Now I plan to walk in when they open, tell them I live close by, that my wife and I eat out once a week or so, and that they will never get our business, in spite of the fact that I love chicken.  Bigotry has no place in our community.  None.  Just ask the Anoka-Hennepin School Board or the Anoka High School.

Living History

Summer                                       Hiroshima Moon

The Colorado History Museum tore down a perfectly good building filled with wonderful exhibits and built a new building in its place, a building with none of the exhibits.  A strange decision on their part, it seems to me, but, hey.  It’s their state.

In its place the same lot now contains a brand new history center, a large parking ramp and a court building, presumably a state court since the Colorado capitol building sits less than two blocks away.

The Colorado folks opted, in their new building, for a different approach to museology.  Whereas the old building had a cabinet of curiosities feel, it was a good one by my lights.  Still, its exhibits were static and didactic, familiar in style to any one acquainted with museums during the 20th century.

The new history center spikes on the engaged learner end of the new museological perspective.  The lobby has a ceiling made of wood from pine beetle destroyed trees.

Just inside the museum proper the first attraction is the floor.  A huge, maybe a hundred foot square map of colorado laid out in terrazzo tile, shows rivers, mountains, lakes and a few other key locations like Denver.  Latitude and longitude markings border the map on which sit two time machines.

Each machine has a distinctive steam punk style with interactive screens and an amazing feature.  The amazing feature is this:  if all using the time machine agree, it can move.   Along the map are several small circles denoting regions like central colorado or southwestern colorado.  The time machine works by region, so that when it is placed in central colorado it’s screens show historical artifacts, e.g. ledger books created by captive native american artists, peculiar to that location.

Near the time machine the visitor can pass through into Destination Colorado.  Through the doors is the town of Keota.  It has a school, a general store, a farm, a rural home and a tin lizzy.  In addition there is a structure called the little house on the prairie.  It has sickle moons cut out of its door.

Each one of these installations is interactive.  The store has items you can take off the shelf and buy.  Each item has a price equivalent to its price in 1920.  A cash register with mechanical keys allows a child to stand on a box and ring up tea, toothpaste, canned milk and baking powder among other things.  Ruth loved the cash register.

She also became fascinated (obsessed?) with another feature of the general store.  There were two wooden boxes with small rectangles inside, enough to hold a dozen eggs.

The eggs came from chickens set up in nest on the farm.  Every once in a while the chicken would cackle, a thunk could be heard and a small hand would reach inside the hole underneath the hen.  After retrieving a wooden egg, it goes in a small wire basket.

Once the child collects sufficient eggs they can take them back to the general store, put them in the wooden boxes one at a time and receive $.23 a dozen.  This is intermittent reinforcement, the strongest reinforcement in operant conditioning and it hooked Ruthie.

We had to stop her after she had collected buckets of eggs.

She also drove the tin lizzy which rides to Grandma’s house by way of a movie showing through the windshield, goes through rain spritzed down from a fan unit above the car and shakes and rumbles across the prairie.

Pretty fun.

Upstairs there was, drumroll please, a skiing exhibit.  Ruth jumped out of her skin at that one.  There she tried out a ski jumping simulation, crashing both times.  “That’s not what happens when I really ski,” she said.

The most impressive moment was, however, yet to come.  A mining exhibit contained another simulation, this one faux blast that required precision placement of dynamite in a particular sequence.  The small movie showed a pattern, then the pattern disappeared.  Based on that brief glimpse the explosives person had to press faux dynamite sticks into the wall in a particular sequence.  After they were in, a plunger was available to set them off.

After the plunger an explosion came on the screen and the mine told you how you did.  I watched older kids try. Their explosions caved in the mine.  6 year old Ruth went up, watched the movie, looked at the pattern, very seriously went over and pressed the dynamite then went over to the plunger and set it off.

“Excellent work, miner,” the movie said. “You brought the rock down in tunnel and did not hurt the mine shaft.”

Ruth ran between exhibits, trying this and that.  Excited.  A great trip.

Afterward we had ice cream.

A Small Town

Summer                                                          Under the Lily Moon

Independence Day eve.

Memories.  American memories.  A small town, like any small town.  You might call it Small   Town, U.S.A.  Kids played outside until 9:00 pm, hide and seek and kick the can, using neighbor’s yards as hiding places.  Lightning bugs blinked off and on.  Bats swooped down after July mosquitoes.

The labor unions fought for wages, benefits and a whole town, this Small Town, went out on strike.  And won.  Workers had houses, boats, vacations.  Their kids went to college.  Health insurance came with the job.

This small town had a daily newspaper.  Each afternoon at 3:30 pm after school let out paper boys gathered in a small wooden shack attached to the back of the press room, green paper bags in hand.  The circulation manager would count copies and hand them out.  Some paper boys would stay a bit, folding the papers into tiny, compact squares with a folded down corner.  They flew 20, 30 feet with astonishing accuracy, curve ball accuracy.

One newspaper boy bought a transistor radio, clipped it to his belt, stuck the ear piece in and listened to baseball games as he walked down Monroe Street, flipping the small squares onto porches from the sidewalk.

This was a time, maybe about the year, that the Spunik satellite went up, pinging its bright metallic way across the sky.  Before that there were no human objects in space.

Kids collected pop bottles from trash cans, pulling Red Flyer wagons, loading them up.  At Cox’s grocery store a nickel a bottle, ten cents for some.  A lot of money.  Buy some marbles.  Firecrackers.  Ice cream.  Essentials for hot summer days.

Pot bellied veterans would carry the colors in this small town’s parades, their pink flesh peeking through the no longer form fitting white uniforms.  Tanks from the local armory left tracks in the hot asphalt.  An Independence Day parade.  Marching bands, baton twirlers.  A queen of something doing the wave.

Folks lined up along the street, the folks whose husbands had gone on strike.  Who received the copies of the newspaper.  Folks whose kids played outside until therr was no time left and mothers called from their doorsteps.  They stood there in the heat and watched the parade.  A big event for a small town.

Far over ahead, a ping.