Category Archives: Humanities

So, Why Get Up At 4 AM?

Spring                                                 Waning Bee Hiving Moon

As the bee hiving moon fades to black, it makes way for the last frost moon.  Our last frost up in the northern exurbs of the Twin Cities comes somewhere between May 15 and May 20 on average.  May 15 is the date I use because I haven’t experienced a later frost, but it could happen.  That’s the date the tomato plants go out, the kale and chard I’ve started (though I’ve also sown them outside, too), the beans, cucumbers and various annual flowers.

Tomorrow the Celtic calendar, the one I follow in addition to Gregorius’s, turns over to the season of Beltane.  More on that Sunday.

Today is a rainy, cool day unfit for working with bees.  Good for transplanting though, but I don’t have any more to do right now.

There was a royal wedding, wasn’t there?  No, I did not get up at 4 am for a breakfast party to watch it, nor did I watch the 68 minute version Kate and Mark watched yesterday.  I did scroll through pictures on the LA Times website.  Got me wondering.  Why all the attention in this, the most plebeian of powerful nations?

I stipulate the romantic notion of princess and prince, especially the steroidal version that involves a commoner elevated by marriage to royalty.  We have a 5 year old grand-daughter who would have no trouble seeing herself in Kate Middleton’s role.  Middleton, eh.  Even the name reeks bourgeois. I stipulate further the fascination of any marriage as a symbol for that fragile, wonderful, ordinary miracle of love.  I know these two play a factor, a large factor.

But 4 am?  What’s up with that?   Rather, who’s up with that? Continue reading So, Why Get Up At 4 AM?

Cruise Diary: April 29

Spring                                                                                          Waning Bee Hiving Moon

October 16th.  That’s, let’s see, 5 and 1/2 months from now.  On that day, Kate and I will set out, from the port of New York, for Rio de Janerio by way of Colombia, the Panama Canal, Ecuador, Peru, Chile, the Falklands, Uruguay and Argentina.  We arrive at Rio on November 22nd, flying home from there.  My idea of preparation for a trip of this kind is to read, as I already have, a book about the Andes and one about Patagonia,  a book about Chilean glaciers and an environmental history of South America.  I have also read concise reports about each country we will visit, trying to get a feel for their contemporary politics.  There are, too, websites giving cruising tips, reviews of ships, information about ports of call and, of course, more information about countries and destinations.  There, is, as well, that fat Oxford History of South America, in which I will read essays about certain aspects of South America that seem interesting to me.  That’s all now.

Before the cruise, and probably as soon as I’ve finished The Monkey King’s Journey to The West (which will be a while, it’s one of the four Chinese classics, all characterized by being very long), I’ll start reading South American novelists.  On the cruise itself I have the Voyage of the Beagle and the Origin of the Species already downloaded to my kindle.  This preparation is one of the things I love about travel.  Kate says she doesn’t need to do it, because she’s got me.

My attention to a trip waxes and wanes over the time before departure, but it’s never entirely gone.  I suppose many of you must be similar, hoovering up information, not sure what’s of use, but allowing it all to seep in, coagulate into a whole somehow.

Using Tech Tools

Spring                                                Waning Bee Hiving Moon

This morning Kate and I had our weekly business meeting.  Those Amazon books add up.  We’re well into the first growing season with Kate retired.  It makes the whole process seem less urgent, more manageable from my perspective.  I like that.  Having Mark here right now helps, too.

After that I checked my translation on Diana and Actaeon, the 10 verses I’m preparing for my reading/translation lesson on Friday.  The second time through I found several things I missed the first time.  I believe my translation is improving, improving quickly right now.  Some sort of developmental break through, I suppose.

After that I fiddled with Firefox 4.0.  It’s the latest version of the favorite non-windows browser though I understand Chrome (Google) has begun to catch up.  It seems to be a bit slower with g-mail and the MIA website, but it makes up for it with its cool new feature, Panorama.  Panorama allows you to group frequently used tabs together in transparent collections accessible through a small tab at the top of the browser.

This way, when I move into Latin, for example, I can click once and up comes Perseus with my section of the Metamorphoses already loaded, along with the word find tool.  Another example, a weather tab holds my Andover NOAA page, Paul Douglas’ blog, Chanhassen NOAA weather story and a moon phase calendar.  All one click away.  Pretty neat.

It’s also time to start working on my Spanish tour for next week.  I called up Microsoft Notes, a program I wonder how I worked without now.  I opened a new notebook, titled it Art History Research and put in a tab, Spanish Tour May 5, 2011.  Now I’ll have my tours all in one handy place with talking points beside each piece.  Pretty neat.

A guy like me, who switches between diverse interests with regularity throughout a day and a week, finds work accelerated in pleasant ways with these organizational tools.

If You Can, Speak

Spring                                    Waning Bee Hiving Moon

More fun with poor Actaeon.   I translated this short speech of Diana’s and it really gets to the point of what Ovid had in mind.

Diana has just sprinkled Actaeon with avenging water and his transfer to a stag is complete, though he doesn’t know it quite yet.  She says to him:

“Now let me show you the garment you saw set down,

If you can tell about it, you may.”

When he tries, all that comes out are a groan and tears, “only his pristine mind remained.”  Ouch.  You want to stay on the good side of any goddess in your vicinity.

We’ve decided to change my tutoring sessions to a reading course format.  I will prepare several verses, translate them, but on the day of our session, I will read the Latin out loud, then translate as much as possible from sight.  This should speed up my learning.

On Friday’s Kate goes to the bank to get our weekly cash, goes to the pharmacy which is close by (our credit union is at Mercy Hospital and the pharmacy in the medical office building across the street) and often comes home with lunch.  When she gets home, she says,  “I’ve got money, drugs and food.”  Those little domestic rituals.

Daffodils Are Up. The Bees Are Coming. Growing Season Is Underway.

Spring                                              Waning Bee Hiving Moon

Tomorrow afternoon is the day the bee’s come to their new home.  They will have traveled by truck from Chico, California, spent a night at Jim’s Nature’s Nectar and will leave Stillwater for Andover around 2:00 pm.  Back home here at Artemis Honey they will go into their colonies, one per package, a tuft of grass tucked in the entrance reducer for the first 12 hours to keep everybody home the first night.  Sounds like 3 folks will come for the festivities.

Today is the first Latin day in three weeks.  I’ve had an unusually full period that eliminated the full day slots I like to use for translating Ovid. I find I have to get into a flow with it which takes some time.

In addition to bee hiving I have vegetables to plant this week, too.  Succession planting plus new veggies, cool weather veggies like peas and carrots.  My potatoes came two days ago.  They’re on a cookie pan while the eyes grow a bit more before I cut them up and plant them, probably late next week.

Mark will have been here two weeks tomorrow.  He takes long walks here in Andover, goes into the city with me when I won’t be long and takes walks in the city.  Still calming down after a tough period.

On to Diana and Actaeon.  I’m getting there with this story.  When I finish my first pass on the translation, mostly literal (which is not easy for me), then I’ll take on the next, equally difficult challenge, putting my translation into idiomatic English.  Prose, most likely.  Translating it as poetry feels like a different, more complex process, one I’m not ready to take on right now.

Also, Grandson Gabe’s 3rd birthday.

Freedom

Spring                                                Full Bee Hiving Moon

It is never safe to speak and act for freedom in an unfree place.  How many have learned that lesson?  American revolutionaries.  French.  East Indian. American Indian.  The South African blacks.  The list could go on and on.  Spartacus.  Socrates.  Even Jesus.  It is never safe to be unfree.  That’s the paradox, the motivator.

And freedom will have its way.  History, though I know the arguments against this position, is on the side of freedom.  It is an ache in the human heart that never goes away until satisfied. Ask the African-Americans or undocumented folks in the USA today.  Ask the Muslims in France or the Turks in Germany, the Romany especially in the Slavic countries.  Ask the Jews of the diaspora anywhere.

To stand on the side of freedom is to stand with the future and against the past.  Each of us takes a position every day, with every purchase we make, every political decision we try or fail to try to influence, every value we pass on through our behaviors and our teaching.  To live is to choose.  Always.

I spoke with a man today about the political environment for working against climate change, for healthy and sustainable forests, agriculture, cities.  The political winds today blow against us.  Is that a reason to sit down and wait them out?  No.  It is a time to stand up, to find the actions we can take that will move us toward a more just and verdant world

One of those actions, always, is to work on the side of freedom.  Ai Weiwei and others held in China today need and deserve our help.  Not as an action against China, but as one for it.  For a world where political speech and action has a place of honor, not a jail cell.

Grasshopper, You Are About To Be A Grandfather

Spring                                                                           Full Bee Hiving Moon

Men.  Emotions surprise us, batter us into consciousness, wake us up.  Hello, grasshopper, you are about to be A GRANDFATHER. Huh?  How did that happen?  Of course, you know exactly how it happened, but it still reaches inside and turns on the amazement switch.

Some old man, dimly known, shambles out of your past and you say, “Could that be me? That old fella?”

“Nah, I’m too young,” you say.

The event comes to pass and there you are with Ruth or Dave or Holly or Ava, a tiny pink wonder, yet, too, the most common event of all among us, a baby, a fledgling human, vulnerable, needy.  Somehow ours.  Somehow not ours.

Shaken but perhaps not yet stirred a gong sounds somewhere, a genetic clang or a cultural bong, but whatever deep, resonant, compelling and there you are at the door reserved for Elders Only.  This door, this torii, guards the pathway to the future, a divided path on which your grandchild will walk as a living memory in one direction while you stride resolute toward our last great journey.

Here’s the joy.  We can walk along this path a ways, maybe even a long ways, together.

What’s the nature of this walk?  Who knows?  One grandparent, one grandchild.  A unique way, created by the two, reserved for them alone.  Another grandchild, another way.

We spoke of these things tonight at Tom Crane’s house.  Mark, brother Mark, went along.  Warren, Charlie, Bill, Scott, Tom, Frank, Mark, Stefan were there.  We remembered our grandfather dying in front of us at four, of grandfather’s disappeared by distance and alcohol, of grandfather’s willing to play along with a silly joke, a grandfather who drank and drank and drank, having his last jug delivered the day after he died, of a grandfather with green flannel underwear that buttoned, puzzlingly, in the rear, who poured coffee into a cup, then a saucer and drank from the saucer, who made syrup from water and sugar, of grandfathers in the house, there to talk to, to go to, grandfathers abused by fathers.  We spoke of all these things nestled inside our own hopes, our joys, the wonders of our own journey through the torii of  generation.

Men wonder about these things, dream about them, hope for them.  See themselves with a tiny hand in theirs, walking along, picking dragons and mermaids out of the clouds.  Whistling.

Still At It

Spring                                                    Waxing Bee Hiving Moon

Below freezing tonight, howling winds all day, gray clouds scudding across the sky.  Ah, Minnesota in springtime.

A full day translating Ovid.  I’m now down to verse 201, only 49 verses to go.  I’ll probably make it before the end of the Titian show.  The impetus here was to try and imagine what went through Titian’s mind.  I know he probably used a corrupt translation, but I’ll still get some sense of the process he may have gone through as he moved this classic of Roman literature to a 2-d painting.

I can’t say it’s easy, but it is easier now than when I started.  I’m getting what I want from it, a language learned and a book important to me embedded in my  consciousness.

Rainfall as Destiny

Spring                                                       Waxing Bee Hiving Moon

Let the rainy season begin.  Thunder in the forecast for tomorrow.  That means Rigel slinking around, barking at the sky, and, with Sollie and Gertie here, amping up the possible opportunities for red in tooth and claw encounters.  Temperate climates change the game every three months or so, just to see if we’re still alert.

There is an argument in the Star-Tribune today that correlates 50-100 mm of rain a year with democracy.  This is a new version of an old staple, geographical determinism, now sometimes called environmental determinism.  In essence geographical determinists equate a particular land form or climate with political destiny. An explanation from about.com is below.

“The main argument of environmental determinism states that an area’s physical characteristics like climate have a strong impact on the psychological outlook of its inhabitants. These varied outlooks then spread throughout a population and help define the overall behavior and culture of a society. For instance it was said that areas in the tropics were less developed than higher latitudes because the continuously warm weather there made it easier to survive and thus, people living there did not work as hard to ensure their survival…

By the 1950s, (my emphasis, note that this perspective held sway in geography until recently, and, in fact re-emerges now and then.  See today’s star-trib.) environmental determinism was almost entirely replaced in geography by environmental possibilism, effectively ending its prominence as the central theory in the discipline. Regardless of its decline however, environmental determinism was an important component of geographic history as it initially represented an attempt by early geographers to explain the patterns they saw developing across the globe.”

The main problem with this line of thought is that it confuses correlation with causation.  In other words it is deductive rather than inductive.  In its earliest and grossest form it posited, for example, that equatorial regions produced lazy, shiftless people because food was so readily available.  A later version of the same argument claims to correlate 70% of a nations or regions economic production by its distance from the equator.  The reasoning though is backward.

Take the article claiming the causal link between rainfall and democracy in the paper this morning.  It looks at democracies, notes that most fall in temperate regions and asks the question, why is that?  In answering this question they come to a conclusion that moderate rainfall has a goldilocks effect producing an ideal agricultural environment with an environment conducive to food storage (cold winters).  This leads to individual property and strength of individuals who can then join together in democratic government.

Well.  Here’s the way it would have to go if the theory were to actually work.  First, you would have to take a geographic or climactic feature, let’s say rainfall, then look at what rainfall produces and then predict what cultural and political configurations were likely.  At that point you could take your theory out into the wide world and see if it matched up.  If it did, then you might, note might, have a law.  The might, even in this method, is that even with prediction, correlation is not always causation.  That’s why scientific theories have to be tested and verified by others, others who don’t have your assumptions.

Both culture and political configurations are far too many variables removed from climate and geography to demonstrate causation rather than correlation.  That is, the human mind and the creativity of the group, can overcome, in fact, has a long track record of overcoming geographic and climactic variations.  Overcoming, not being overcome by.  We may argue whether that’s good or not, but it is a fact.

And, oh, by the way, this article doesn’t account for China, the world’s largest autocratic state with quite a bit of temperate climate.

The Latin Diaries: Diana and Actaeon

Spring                                             Waxing Bee Hiving Moon

All morning on 5 verses of the Actaeon story.  I’m not sure now that I’ll make it before May 1st when the Titian exhibit leaves.  I’m aiming that way still.  It’s a goal, but one dependent on my continuing to gain skill as a Latin novice and gain skill fast.  I’ve only now just gotten to the good part where Actaeon has entered the sacred grove, seen Diana and she’s going for her arrows and her bow.  After that?  Well, it’s not good news for our Actaeon.

Translating Latin, and I’m sure this is true with other languages too, requires holding several different pieces of information in mind, all at the same time.  That’s different conjugations, declensions, clause forms, word meanings (usually multiple for the same word).  The thing I still find hardest is not jumping to a conclusion and locking in a translation.  If I do that, I end up with words that don’t fit and decisions that go down wrong paths.

The very complexity of it is what appeals to me right now, that and the fact that I’m digging deep into a text and therefore an author and therefore a world that fascinates me, the world that sustained Greek and Roman gods and goddesses.  Ovid challenges this world, challenges it vigorously, with stories of transformation and injustice, but, in a great irony, also propagates it.