Lift Up Your Hearts!

Not the same one as these people, certainly.

Thinking it was from someone else, I followed Erica's link in her comment on Heather and Jon's blog, which eventually led me to this supposedly funny story about the differences between the way men and women prepare dinner.  I realize it's intended to be hyperbolic, but there's enough seriousness in the post and responses to make me believe there's another world out there that has nothing to do with anyone I know.

First of all, who brought this man up that he is surprised to learn that it's rude to ask someone to make you (and some friends) dinner (big faux pas), then call her up an hour before mealtime to tell her you've eaten a big lunch and aren't hungry, so she needn't bother cooking (enormously huge faux pas)?  C'mon—there can't really be anyone so clueless on the planet, can there?

Secondly, the characterization of a man's approach to a meal might have been credible 50 years ago, though even for that time I have my doubts.  In any case, many of the men I know are good cooks who frequently exercise their talents, and the rest can do so in a pinch.  Sure, we all—male and female—have been known to "just grab something" when feeding only ourselves.  But for guests?

Nor is his picture of a woman preparing a meal much more reasonable, though at least it helps him grasp the idea that planning and work are involved.  But no one I know, of any sex, prepares meals that way—even allowng for the hyperbole—except for very special occasions.

Not being able to respond on the blogs I encountered while discovering this other planet, I resort to venting on my own forum.  Do YOU know people like this?

Still, I give him lots of credit for realizing he was a boor, and wanting to do better.  We need more people like that on our planet.

I found this gem reading MacDonald's story, The Portent.  Not profound, but there are several readers of this blog who will appreciate it.

[part of a dialogue between a student and his tutor] 

I suppose I should throw out my Peter Pan peanut butter.

Having read about the recall, I quietly scoffed at the paranoia of those who recommended getting rid of all peanut butter, as if the net of the "2111" product code weren't wide enough.  And all this fuss when no actual contamination has (yet) been found in the product—just a statistical link.

But just for fun, I looked at the product code on my jar, and lo and behold, it begins with the Number of the Peanut Butter Beast.

The fact that I've already consumed more than half the contents of the jar ought to count for something, though.

The Well-Educated Mind, by Susan Wise Bauer (W W Norton & Co, NY 2003)

The Well-Educated Mind reminds me of Mortimer Adler's How to Read a Book, only it's less intimidating. In a time when most people who can read, don't, and in which teachers are thrilled if their students read anything at all, no matter how worthless or even harmful, it's sobering to be reminded that—avid reader as I am—there is a world of reading far beyond the level of attention I bring to a book. My palate can distinquish between a white wine and a red, and can distinguish each from kerosene, but the sophisticated analysis of even a moderate expert is beyond by attainment. Susan Wise Bauer encourages me to believe it is not beyond my reach, however.

This may be what those annoying English teachers were trying so unsuccessfully to convey when they sucked all the fun out of a book by their analysis. If so, I missed the point altogether, because Bauer's approach—which incorporates historical, social, and literary context along with what amounts to a serious paying attention to what one reads—is both challenging and intriguing. In reality, I have to admit my list of books to read once, let alone three times with note-taking, is intimidating as it is. Still, I've already gained just by reading this book. (Once only, and even so not quite all of the extensive readings section before I had to return it to the library.)

Like The Well-Trained Mind, The Well-Educated Mind would be worthwhile for the extensive list (with summaries) of recommended reading alone. (More)

In Pittsburgh it can be faster to take the bus to the airport than to drive, because there are special bus-only lanes that sneer at rush hour traffic.  Not so in Orlando, where the trip takes 45 minutes by car and more than twice that by bus.  Today was actually my first venture onto Orlando's public transportation system (such as it is), if you don't count the downtown freebie Lymmo service (which actually counts for quite a lot; it's pretty handy).  Anyway, I ventured from home to the airport and thence to a Thai restaurant where we met some friends for dinner, just for the experience.

The driver was friendly and helpful, the cost only $1.50 ($3.50 buys a pass good for unlimited trips in one day), and the bus itself was fine.  But the total time—walking from our house to the bus stop (35 minutes), waiting for the bus (20 minutes), and stopping at nearly every one of the multitude of stops on the way to the airport (100 minutes)—made for a long afternoon. Still, I proved it's possible to get to the airport without benefit of car, at least if one doesn't have too much in the way of baggage.

And the Thai food was good, too.

When I read the story of Melissa Busekros, I wonder anew why some people are so anxious to subject our country to the authority of international governing bodies.  Fifteen-year-old Melissa was ripped from her home by German police, committed to a mental hospital, and placed in state custody, all because her parents, concerned that the chaotic environment of her school had contributed to her failure in two subjects, chose to have her tutored at home the next year.  She was (and apparently still is) cut off from contact with her parents and siblings, with the excuse that she is suffering from "school phobia" and contact with her family would exacerbate the problem.

Homeschooling is illegal in Germany.  That's bad enough for German citizens, but could be disastrous for the rest of Europe if the German philosophy gains the upper hand in European Union politics.  And should the United States decide to submit to the authority of the United Nations or another international authority, we would put ourselves at risk of similar tyranny. (More)

Yesterday's visit to the art museum set me thinking.  The featured exhibit was quilts from the Gee's Bend community, set alongside and accorded the same respect as works in the museum's exhibit of modern abstract art.  Analysts found many similarities between the creations of an isolated, impoverished community and those of the high-brow professional artists.

Folk art, and folk music, grow out of the real lives of ordinary, untrained people.  That the experts, the professionals, can find much of value and sophistication in these genres reveals a foundational truth:  not that the work of untrained amateurs is as good as that of those who have studied hard and practiced long, but that there are no ordinary people.  Each person, being made in the image of God, has within him both the divine creativity and the access to reality that make art important.

Hence my inspiration, and hope, that blogging—despite the often-justified critism by professional writers and journalists—may be the literary equivalent of folk art.  The quilts of Gee's Bend were made to keep families warm, and only later discovered to be worthy of hanging on a museum wall.

The Orlando Museum of Art offers free admission to locals on Thursday afternoons, so today we paid them a visit.

I am a word person.  In an exhibit my eyes are drawn first of all to the small placards that identify and explain, and only afterwards to the object of the explanation.  But today I encouraged myself (sometimes successfully) to let the work of art speak first, which was a novel and quite enjoyable adventure.

I haven't read A Perfect Mess: The Hidden Benefits of Disorder—How Crammed Closets, Cluttered Offices, and On-the-Fly Planning Make the World a Better Place.  But for the mood I'm in now, maybe I should.  I can tell from the summaries and reviews that the authors have an interesting and most likely valid point, from which those of us on the losing side of the battle with entropy can take comfort.

However, at the moment my cluttered office and decidedly disorganized desk are not making the world a better place; not my world, anyway.  So I plan to treat myself tomorrow to some personal time (i.e. I'm going to try hard to carve out a non-interruptible hour) for combing some of the tangles out of my life.  Maybe it will take my mind off the fact that the new SD card I bought for my camera isn't working and I think it's the camera's problem because it works in my computer and I have an e-mail request for help in the works with Kodak but in the meantime I can't help being a bit annoyed and consequently grumpy.  Which may be why the mess is suddenly annoying.  Then again, I'm that way in other areas:  The length of my hair can go from "no problem" to "I MUST get a haircut NOW!" overnight....

Why am I relating all this inconsequential detail?  Because Janet misses knowing about the mundane events of our lives.  The rest of you can read or ignore at your pleasure (which you do anyway).

On Monday we attended the latest concert in the Orlando Philharmonic's Focus Series:  The Great Struass Dynasty.   I love that series because it features a smaller orchestra in a more intimate venue, the 300-seat Margeson Theatre. In our seats, we feel as if we could be part of the second violin section; that the sound is not well balanced there is more than made up for by the more direct experience.

This night we heard music from four members of Vienna's great Strauss dynasty:  Johann Sr., Johann Jr., Josef, and Eduard.  I'm embarrassed to say I've never cared much for their music, especially the waltzes, but this concert was great!  For one thing, the musicians appeared to be enjoying themselves, and it was impossible not to laugh at Carl Rendek's antics.  Imagine what such a fun-loving guy could do with such titles as Fireman's Polka, On Hunting, Chinese Galop, and ClearTrack Polka, all without detracting from the music, and you'll get the picture.  Is it true percussionists have more fun (even if they're not blond)?

However, that's not the most important of what made the concert so interesting to me.  The conductor was Andy Lane, and I'm sure he deserves most of the credit; whatever the reason, for the first time, Strauss waltzes made sense to me!  I can't explain it any further than that, but Janet, at least, will understand what I experienced.

The Story of the World: History for the Classical Child.  Volume 3:  Early Modern Times, by Susan Wise Bauer (Peace Hill Press, Charles City, Virginia, 2004)

Once a homeschooler, always a homeschooler.  Sometimes I can't help checking out the curriculum explosion that has taken place since the younger days of our own home education experiences.  As one might expect, some is awful, some great, and much in between.

Based on this one sample, Susan Wise Bauer's history books are on the high end of in between.  In addition to the five-star praises, there are some harsh reviews on Amazon for the first volume of this series.  Some of them clearly have an axe to grind on issues that don't bother me; some I agree with but find minor (such as her overuse of exclamation points); others I think refer to faults that were largely corrected by the time she wrote the third volume. (More)

We spent over four hours at church this morning and heard not one word related to the Super Bowl!  I'll bet not many in this country can make the same claim.  (Janet probably can, though.)

Talking with Janet about the confusing differences between date notation in the U.S. and in Switzerland (month-day-year vs. day-month-year) led me, once again, to Wikipedia—this time for their article on date format.  There I learned that my favorite format for dating files, especially of letters and photographs, is actually the ISO 8601 standard:  yyyy-mm-dd (four digit year - two digit month - two digit day).  I chose that for the simple reason that the files sort easily into chronological order.  That's my format for files; for ordinary dates I'm not consistent, but often will use a format common to genealogists: e.g. 2 Feb 2007, which is pretty clear, except when sloppy handwriting confuses "Jun" and "Jan."

Having just received my third "are you okay???" message, I guess I'd better make a post.  We were under a tornato warning last night, with the storms expected to hit around midnight.  Somewhere around 5 a.m. I awoke to the sound of rain, and by about 6 it was pretty heavy, but it was coming straight down—no wind.  By 7 the rain had stopped and if it weren't for the news media I'd never have known that destruction was only a few miles away.  Thanks for caring, though!

Check out this essay by Andrew Pudewa on teaching writing.  I've been perusing his site, which I find very interesting, and was struck by this common-sense view of how to encourage children to develop good writing skills.  I'm especially pleased that he managed to drag in most of my favorite writers of educational philosophy:  Dorothy Sayers, Maria Montessori, Glenn Doman, and Arthur Robinson by name—and John Holt is well represented, though anonymously.