Time and Sound

I was talking to my students about visual and oral presentations of argument yesterday. I took them back to Elizabethan times when Shakespeare's audiences were more dependent on the spoken word to get meaning than they were on visual effects or the printed word. After all, most people then could neither read nor write. So they took lots of information in through their ears rather than their eyes. Hence, they were more attuned to the spoken language of the play to understand what sort of light was crossing over Juliet's balcony because there was no electrical source of illumination. Props, light sources and pyrotechnics were not part of the way they took in their world views at the time.



Then I brought the students to the speed changes that have occurred in my life time. My parents had an alarm clock. They wound it every night. They could plainly hear it tick, and if they wanted to know what time it was, they had to turn on a light. They were awakened by an ugly and irritating ringing sound that had to be shut off by touching the right switch. So they were very involved in the process of informing themselves about time. Much of what they learned about time depended on sound.



I have a device in my bedroom that looks nothing like a clock. It shines red, digital figures on the ceiling at night that inform me not only of the time, but also of the temperature outside. It makes a steady buzzing sound in the morning that can be easily tapped to allow me ten more minutes of sleep. At this point there is no message on the ceiling but the digits appear on the device itself. I am much less involved in how I get information about time. I simply use my eyes with very little involvement for my ears.



So that's an example of how contemporary people take in information. We are much more used to accessing our experiences through sight. We use flat screens to learn about our daily lives and take in gigantic special effects when we are entertained at the movies. We are persuaded to consume through graphics of all kinds, many of which require no words to influence us.



Tomorrow morning I will experience a more gentle awakening. My sister will rouse me around four a.m. so they we can be at Owl Grove by dawn. We hope to re-trace the parent owls of last spring and discover if they are raising a new family in the same place this season. We will depend entirely on our ears for information access as we hike through the wooded area and strain our ears for owl noise. We will need to depend almost entirely on the sounds in the environment to learn what we need. We'll communicate with each other at a bare minimum. It will be interesting to see how well we take in information the old-fashioned way. No brightly lit trails, no hidden speakers, no road signs, and not a single arrow will point us on way. Our ears will have to do the majority of the work.

Details and Multi-tasking

I'm at the liquor store. It doesn't open until 11:00 and I wonder why. But I take some time to continue reading the interesting article in "The New Yorker" about these people from the United States who lived in China for many years and then moved back to the U.S. The differences between the movers there and here was amazing. In fact, the difference in the social behaviors between the people of the two countries was amazing. And then I go into the liquor store after being pushed aside at the door by the people who wanted to be first. So as I'm looking for some "good" vodka and pretending like I know what that is, I get sidetracked with watching the customers-the man with the rubber hand, the tiny, fat woman with a voice like a cartoon character, the furtive man in the business suit-until I finally just grab something and stand at the back of the line to pay. My, those customers are fast! They all know exactly what to buy.

On the way home, I study a woman I've seen once or twice who gets on the #33 bus wrapped in a long, fleecy, self-belted garment that's really a robe. And then I go to my knitting group and one of my co-knitters tells this story about her parrot which she's had for 33 years and how if you get a parrot you'd better prepare for a life-long commitment because they live as long as humans do. Her parrot's name is Hawkeye and she gave him away once for five years when her children were small because he imitated their crying and that drove her crazy.

Riding back, my friend JoAnn told me this awful story about these friends of hers whose daughter died. The child's father, who's really a strange person, took custody of their granddaughter and he won't let them see her. They are in the process of trying to gain visitation rights so the lawyer advised them to have lots of people sit with them at court so the judge can see all the support they have. And they didn't tell the father of the child so he was there with only his new wife and his parents.

So I'm talking on the phone with my sister. I sit in my dark bedroom so I won't be distracted. But I'm really trying to keep from multi-tasking while I'm talking to her and which she can always sense. Then she gets all over me because I don't remember details. But how can I when the world is so full of Chinese moving men, liquor store customers with rubber hands, a parrot that sounds like a crybaby, and a mean father who won't let his eight year old see her grandparents???? No wonder life's details escape me. No wonder I'm no good at multi-tasking anymore.

Friendly Skies, Where Are You?

We leave for Hawaii in two days. What a celebration this will be! Brian and Ashley's wedding and a vacation in Maui! My lesson plans are written and delivered to the subs, the mid-term was created and given today and I've asked for coverage for my tutoring sessions. Warm weather clothing and sunscreen has been purchased, reading material is lined up, the portable knitting project has been decided upon and we're eating up what's left in the fridge. Stacks of clothing, maps, guidebooks, snorkel equipment, and shoes are waiting on a card table especially set up for the purpose of packing with the four carry-on's waiting underneath. Pills are counted out. The paper and mail have been stopped. The house will soon be clean. Neighbors are notified and rides have been arranged.

But I can't find out where I'm supposed to go to get my anti-fear of flying injection. Does anyone know? Why don't I know this? Maybe I missed a class on this subject when I signed up for the other freshman requirements. Or perhaps I was absent when everyone else received the antidote. It's blatantly obvious to me when I study all the other flying passengers that they know things I don't know. They learned how to sit on an airplane without deep breathing. I haven't caught anyone else popping prescribed pills. They even SLEEP. Is there a kiosk at the Town Center that hands out free pamphlets about flying without fear classes and where they're located? How do I tend to this problem that has somehow gone unattended all my life? Am I the only person out of the loop about how to be casual about flying?

Much Better Than My Thoughts on Poetry

"Where does a poem come from?. . .I do everything to words. I'd be happy to send them to Florida or buy them hot dogs, anything, if they'll just come through. . .The most important thing in a poem is silence. . .Must poetry have music?. . .the poem at the end of the world. . .Writing poetry is a kind of rapture, saying the unsayable, a conversation with the world, a record of time spent in jail, anger. . ."

and here's a good poem

How Poetry Comes to Me

It comes blundering over the

Boulders at night, it stays

Frightened outside the

Range of my campfire

I go to meet it at the

Edge of the light

by Gary Snyder

All this from the book The Language of Life by Bill Moyers and all for Nancy.

Extreme Eating

My goal is to lose 50 pounds by the time we leave for Maui in two weeks. I've already lost nine pounds. Yes, I know this is ridiculous. Every weight loss "plan" is ridiculous for the simple reason that they don't work. Oh sure, the extreme eater can lose a few pounds here on Weight Watchers, a few pounds there at Jenny Craig and maybe even some pounds on her own with plan and forethought, but the lbs. will slowly "inch" themselves back on.

What's up with that? Easy. We are eaters who are food obsessed and food addicted. Eating is a solemn ritual for us even as we dive bomb into the Safeway chocolate chip chunk cookies, holding one in our mouths and two in our hands as we juggle the phone and the current reading book on our way to the recliner. And, if you don't know about them, those Safeway cookies are BIG. It's all part of the ritual, I say. Just the thought of reading my book accompanied by the pleasure of sweet texture and chocolate can bring on a food high. Havarti cheese on Triscuits, any flavor of Ben and Jerry ice cream, a pile of hot pancakes with too much butter that is melting into syrupy pools on the plate. . .PASTRAMI ON RYE WITH SWISS! You get the idea: they produce a rush, a euphoria, a sense of total well-being and happiness that can be repeated with each little food binge.

Deprived of these sensual eating experiences, we go slightly mad. What's fun about 3.5 ounces of lean meat served up with a single fruit, a naked vegetable and a scrawny piece of Melba toast? And add in the lack of a fitting dessert and you have a dinner partner who is raging and crying inside.

These eaters need to figure out this major life challenge is not managed in little journals of food diaries or in groups of cheering dieters but inside their own heads. It all makes sense even to me. But I still take on whatever new diet gimmick comes along just to "give me a jump start" and then I'll be able to eat healthily on my own. Yeah, right. Wish me luck in Hawaii.

News About the Owl

Bobbie and I will spend the day in Pacific City at the Birds and Blues Festival this Saturday. We'll do three readings and maybe sell a few books while we're at it. But we'll for sure enjoy the speaker and just hanging out with folks who like birds. Maybe we'll hear some music as well! And we'll take our cameras and get some cool beach photos. All in all, it will be fun. If you're in the P. City area on Saturday, drop in and see us. In fact, do go to the Coast; it's supposed to be nice there and there might be a chance for us all to see Spring weather for another day.

April 25 we'll be at the Irvington Artisan Market. They've asked us to join their "local artists" group and we feel honored about that. It should be a good gig for everyone. I hope I can manage to get the ad in the photo section on my page here. (Sorry. It didn't work. I don't know why. Sometimes computer stuff is just too much for me.)

You can read a little more about these two events at the website.

Two Falling Trees

Last Friday the spring wind storm took down half the 50 year old maple tree that lived in my sister's yard so graciously for all that time. She remembers grabbing its twiggy beginning and being told by our dad to treat it gently because it would become a big shade tree someday. It did but it found its end in the wind of last week. In fact, it fell across a moving car, blocked the street and caused neighborhood chaos for hours. No one was hurt although the two passengers in the car were scared to pieces. Another two feet and the story could have ended in a deadly way. So when Bobbie came home, neighbor Diane was handling the media, neighbor Sue was handling all the emergency vehicles and all the neighbors were enjoying the spectacle. Many commented on the sadness they felt at losing this iconic tree and my sister is really mourning its loss.

Here at home, my friend Karalee is dying of cancer. She is like a tree herself in the strong, comforting, no-nonsense presence she has provided in the forest of life. She remains cheerful, positive and engaged in living even as the trunk of her shrivels and whitens. She is taking her leave with poise and dignity. I have boundless admiration for her and appreciate being a part of the family as we do what we can to help her take her place in eternity. Good-by, Karalee. You are falling not to the ground but into the universe.