Lift Up Your Hearts!

We bought some luggage today.  Amongst the choices, we found an American Tourister set that would do the job, but decided to look a bit further.  Then we found some Swiss luggage that made my heart sing.  It was billed as being made by the same people who make the Swiss Army knife, was an arresting red color easy to spot on an airport carousel, and was marked with a Swiss cross emblem.  Besides, it was Swiss!  Must be good, right?  It was also more than twice the price of the other set, another supposed indicator of quailty.

After further investigation, we went for the lower cost, because there was no convincing evidence that the construction was any less durable, even if it did lack the je ne sais quoi factor.  We would have happily paid the additional money, however, had the luggage really been made in Switzerland.  But no, both the Swiss Army bags and the American Tourister were...made in China.

Where there are tests, there will be cheaters, and if the teachers are being judged by the efforts of their students, there will be teachers who cheat, too.  In order to help their students on the Florida Comprehensive Assessment Test for writing, some teachers are having them memorize stock phrases with which to populate their essays.  Formulaic writing to the nth degree.  The practice is common enough that exam graders are finding the same phrases—odd phrases, such as "one quintessential, supersonic day"—on exams throughout the state.

I'm not sure which is worse, that the teachers might be cheating, or that they might actually think this is what leads to good writing.  And to think I felt guilty when our previously homeschooled kids shocked their first high school English teacher by not knowing what a "five paragraph essay" was.

What older person hasn't looked into the mirror, whether physical or metaphorical, and noticed, "I'm becoming my mother/father!"?  I've observed both tendencies in myself, but the latest revelation is that I'm becoming my husband.

For much of my young life it was illegal in the United States to buy or import products made in China.  Aware of this, I looked with awe upon a cheap Chinese toy in a Canadian gift shop, wondering perhaps if it might blow up in my hands or impart some poison into my body.  Still, when the ban was lifted, I saw no reason not to buy the Chinese products that began to trickle onto our shelves.  I grew frustrated with Porter's insistence on buying products made in the U.S.A. whenever possible, and embarrassed at his constant checking for the origin of items in the stores.  I'll admit it:  I laughed at his parochialism.  After all, don't Chinese families have as much right to live and eat and make money as American families?  (More)

A recent news story highlights the perils of giving birth in Afghanistan.  It's a great thing that midwives are being trained to help improve the country's appalling maternal mortality rate, which is as bad as it gets unless you give birth in Sierra Leone.  However, the article indicates to me that we are training them in the medical model of care when it comes to childbirth.  Given that childbirth is a natural and normal process for all but a small percentage of births, lack of access to (or willingness to use) doctors and hospitals is hardly the main problem.  Promoting the Midwives' Model of Care along with good nutrition and prenatal care would probably do more than anything else to reduce the grip fear, pain, and death on Afghani mothers.

Afghanistan needs Ina May Gaskin—albeit with a bit of censorship required, especially the part about orgasmic childbirth.  That wouldn't go over with the imams, no, not at all....

Eric Schultz has done it again.  Never would I have thought a business writer could be so interesting.  Perhaps it's because he's also a genealogist.  :)  Yesterday's post, Leadership in the White Space, is about business, but along the way touches on astrophysics and music, with this idea for a mystery novel:  (More)

I'll admit it:  I've been an A.W.A.D. fan ever since my father signed me up for the daily e-mails over 10 years ago, and I often enjoy the quotations as much as the definitions.  On December 2, however, the quotation was a definition that should have made any dictionary fan cringe:

Democracy, to me, is liberty plus economic security. - Maury Maverick, attorney and congressman (1895-1954)

Huh?  As valuable as liberty and economic security may be, what on earth do they have to do with defining democracy?  If we are going to re-define words willy-nilly, language has no meaning.  It's the Humpty-Dumpty Effect. (More)

The homeschool group my nephews belong to has been meeting once a week for ice skating, and today I joined them.  I can't tell you how long it has been since I've skated, but I think my ankles can.  Normally I leave the lacing of my skates rather loose for comfort and blood circulation, but today I found I needed a little more support.  Having made that adjustment, however, I had a blast—and so, I believe, did my nephews.  What a great way to get exercise without knowing it, at least until the skating is over.  I'm also reliving my childhood, apparently, having just a few days earlier gone bowling, a sport last attempted even longer ago than skating.

After the skating was over, I made a point of thanking the person in charge of the music that played while we skated.  The music itself was not spectacular, nor even enjoyable.  It did include the obligatory Hokey Pokey, though not, I now realize, the Chicken Dance.  What made the music so unusually delightful was that it was played at less than jet-engine assault volume.  In this it contrasted starkly, not only with most skating rink experiences, but also church services, movie theaters, the above-mentioned bowling alley, and even Yorktown.  (The last has some excuse, there being no volume knob on a cannon.)

Thanks, Peter, for this link, which I finally got around to checking out this morning.  I'm not sure I know anyone who has 15 minutes to spare for watching this award-winning short film, but it will give you a smile if you need one.

Please be patient, those of you who sent me the innundation of e-mails that awaited me tonight.  You know the stories you hear about people in a coma who can understand all that is going on around them but can't respond?  It's something like that.  At the moment I can receive e-mail but not send it.  I have no idea why, but I'll be working on it soon.

Maybe after the Scattergories game that is calling me right now....

There was an interesting column by Laura Vanderkam from Thursday's USA Today:  Tailoring school to the child.  From private tutors to online courses to hybrid forms, homeschooling is drawing in many who thought they never could or would.  Funny, though, how often the next generation mis-characterizes the ones that have gone before:

Once, people saw home schooling as a fringe religious or hippie activity. These days, many families see it as a way to challenge kids and give them time to pursue their passions.

[Ahem]  Excuse me, but "a way to challenge kids and give them time to pursue their passions" was exactly why we homeschooled more years ago than I want to admit.  Hippie religious freaks, hrumph.  The fringe is kinda fun, though.

Isaac Christopher Daley
November 21, 2002 - November 23, 2002

Six years ago I stumbled through a small speech as our first grandson's ashes were interred, along with a cross made of Legos, a small toy car, and innumerable hopes and dreams.  In honor of what would have been his sixth birthday, I think it's time for me to hear again what I had to say then.  You may eavesdrop if you wish.  (More)

The Occasional CEO is on the short list of my enjoyable, regular blog-reading.  Today's offering, I Love the Swiss Watch, struck my funny bone, perhaps because it's a tad sensitive due to a few stresses and the stock market playing How Low Can You Go?

Did I say I'd take the Swiss trains ahead of a Swiss watch?  I really meant I'll take a Swiss son-in-law.  Practical and elegant.

Once when we were visiting Pittsburgh, we had the pleasure of attending a Stephen Foster festival at the cemetery where he is buried.  While there, we heard the group Home Front, and bought their CD, Parlor to Campfire.  It was somewhat amusing (better to laugh than to cry) to hear our stereo system, which randomly plays tracks from a rather large collection of music, wail forth with Hard Times Come Again No More—right after I had sneaked a look at the rapidly plunging (again! still!) stock market.

As I said to the clerk at the post office—in response to his, "What?  You're here again?"—I'm doing my part to support the economy.  The world is apparently falling down around me, yet life goes on as usual.  I think that's not an unreasonable attitude at the moment, but I also sometimes wonder if there's not a bit of Madame Ranevskaya in me.

I've said before that most so-called conspiracies can be more readily explained by simple human stupidity.  Take, for example, the recent brouhaha over NASA's Goddard Institute for Space Studies, whose climate data for October reported temperatures to be an astonishing three-quarters of a degree above normal.  It turns out the data was badly skewed because in several cases September's data had been used rather than October's. 

Some of the commentary I've read accuses the GISS of deliberately putting out a false report, but I see no need to propose a more complicated explanation when a simple one will do:  The GISS was expecting to see warming, so they didn't question the data.  This is why scientific experiments are double-blind whenever possible.  In lieu of that, it might be wise to have your enemies proofread your work:  those on the other side of the global warming debate found the error quickly.

U.S.A. Today recently printed an excellent editorial in support of saving large hunks of taxpayer money by replacing the one dollar bill entirely with dollar coins.  What do I mean by "excellent"?  (1) They got the facts right, which is not nearly as common an occurrence as it should be, and (2) they agree with me.