Category Archives: Social Science

Lazy But Not

On this gray, dreary day, Husband and I still have our sweats and jammies on, and it’s nearly 3:30 in the afternoon. Our intention had been to finish unpacking the last of the boxes and to hang art work, but he got involved in a novel, and I dedicated myself to knitting new dish cloths (now my hands ache from working with inflexible cotton). I made beef stew yesterday, so we’ve no need to make effort in the kitchen. And there is still tomorrow to accomplish our tasks.

As I knitted, I was entertained (and educated) by some NPR programs. First is the always informative, witty, and downright funny Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me! which featured among its guests P.J. O’Rourke. I’m pretty well-informed this week, because I got all the answers right. The guest for the “It’s Not My Job” segment was Neil DeGrasse Tyson, an astrophysicist whose Nova shows I avidly watch. “Not My Job” is when an expert is asked questions completely out of his field, and if he wins, a selected listener gets a prize; in this case, his quiz focused on the upcoming Guns ‘n’ Roses album. He was consistent in that he got all three questions wrong, and therefore did not win the prize for the chosen listener. He was really funny and good-natured about his pop culture ignorance. (What’s amazing to me is that I got all three questions correct, even though I know next to nothing about the band.)

Next I heard This American Life with Ira Glass, and the topic was “In the Shadow of the City.” The three stories were about events and life that happen in desolate places in urban areas.

Following that show was a locally produced show, Health Dialogues. This week’s show focused on birth, and here’s the blurb:

The infant mortality rate is down, the number of premature births is up and the average age of new moms in California is at an all-time high. What are the ethical implications of pre-natal testing and concerns about Caesarean deliveries? How are changing demographics, attitudes and science affecting the birth process?

I found it interesting in general, but I was disappointed there wasn’t any time focused on the ethical concerns about pre-natal testing. If you want to hear the show (it’s one hour), click here.

And lastly I heard a fascinating piece from American Radioworks about the work Justice Thurgood Marshall did before being appointed to the United States Supreme Court. Prior to Martin Luther King, Jr., Marshall was known as “Mr. Civil Rights,” as he worked tirelessly for many years to end segregation, particularly in public schools. I had not known he was the lead counsel for the landmark case, Brown vs. Board of Education. The documentary included tape recordings of speeches he gave, interviews with people who worked with him, and commentary from people living in the south who opposed desegregation. One dismaying point made: while there are no longer any laws promoting racial segregation in schools, it continues to exist. If you want to read about this, I recommend The Shame of the Nation: The Restoration of Apartheid Schooling in America, by Jonathan Kozol. It’s a heavy, even discouraging read, but as a taxpayer and citizen, one that is important.

I’m about the press the “publish” button and see it’s just about 4:00 p.m. It’s been a lovely, quiet Saturday. I hope yours has been as well.

At Last!

Houston, we have Internet access at home! Whee!

I’ve been sick since yesterday with stomach problems. It’s an on-again-off-again thing. At the moment, Husband is securing an 8-foot bookcase in the office to the wall with earthquake straps. Tomorrow we’ll unpack boxes in there.

Some observations:

I made beef stock for soup. Nothing smells more savory to me than roasting the bones and some vegetables in the oven in preparation for making stock.

Now that I have easy access to the Internet, I can follow up all immediate curiosities. For example, I wondered recently about the origin of the name Oreo as I nibbled on the cookies. Well, one answer speculates:

While there is no written record as to the origin of the OREO Chocolate Sandwich Cookies name, there are several theories. Some say that OREO was chosen because it was a nice melodic combination of sounds and was easy to pronounce. Others feel it was patterned after the French word for gold, “or” , a color used on early package designs. It is even believed that the name comes from the Greek word for mountain, “oreo”, and that the name was chosen because the first test version was hill-shaped. Regardless of its origin, the name stuck and today OREO Chocolate Sandwich Cookies are one of the most popular brands of cookies in America.

—Wade Lee

However, a Metroactive article states:

According to Nabisco historians, the Oreo was not named after the Greek word oreo, meaning “mountain.” Nabisco’s pride and joy was named by taking the “re” out of cream and squishing it, sandwich-style, between the two “o’s” from the word chocolate.

—David Templeton

I like the latter explanation the most!

I’ve been deeply immersed in the novel, Ahab’s Wife: Or, the Star-Gazer.

Our friends had their first baby, a son, on February 8th!! He’s healthy and adorable, and we are thrilled for them.

I’ve been following the news about Oswego, NY, coping with 7 feet of snow recently dumped on them. I attended SUNY Oswego for my bachelor’s degree, and it was truly a place for hardy souls. In a recent conversation with my mother, she mentioned she’d heard that part of the reason for the amount of snow is that some of the Great Lakes have not frozen over as usual; the weather system has captured moisture from the lakes and carried it to land, where it becomes “lake effect” snow. I lived in Syracuse for 31 years, and boy, did we know what that was like! Looks like people now have to figure out where to put additional snow predicted to fall.

Commodified Bodies, Commodified Lives

I have been spending much of this week trapped in a lounge chair in front of the television. What I have seen isn’t pretty. First this woman says something is missing from her life, and it turns out to be a bigger butt. So she heads off to Dr 90210 for implants. Then Oprah says she does not consider herself lucky at all, that she’s earned her success and exemplifies the American Dream. I kept thinking they were both being ironic, waiting for them to crack up at the ridiculousness of their statements, but neither one of them did. They were dead serious.

What’s it like to live in a culture so spiritually dead that someone could consider butt implants the key to happiness? What’s it like to live in a culture so obsessed with individuality that someone could consider herself entitled to billions of dollars just by being a talking head? …

…Is this really what “America” means? Commodified bodies to go with commodified religion, everything marketed, marketable, even our bodies and our souls? It’s so obviously out of whack that I cannot believe I even need to comment on this, but every time I do I am reminded that voices like mine don’t hold center stage. Why? Because I’ve got nothing to sell except the insistence that we need to stop buying. Thereâ€™s no advertising revenue in that, is there Oprah? Guess I wonâ€™t be a billionaire like you.

–Diana York Blaine, The Adventures of Diana York Blaine: And Now a Word From the Oracle

Diana York Blaine is a recent discovery. I learned of her on another blog which mentioned that she’d taken some photos of herself without a shirt or bra which resulted in a fracas rumbling into her personal and professional lives. (What is it about women’s breasts that are so taboo in some contexts and yet so tantalizing on others?) I went to her Flickr site to see them. I found nothing offensive. Wait, I misspoke: I did find something offensive there; the nasty comments left by some people pointing out what they felt she lacked, how her waist needs to be trimmer, how her body doesn’t match the “ideal” standard of beauty. What I saw in the photos was a normal woman. In fact, in one photo she said she was competing with a painting on the wall, and the woman in the painting looked much the same! Diana is a feminist philosopher at the University of Southern California. We are the same age, and I’ve found a kindred soul; she is pursuing a career and life path that might have been mine if I’d taken some different turns a long time back. Oh, that we only get one life! There’s so much to learn and do and be. Through Diana I can vicariously experience some of it.

Speaking of Oprah, I read about her South African school for girls that will open soon. I applaud the good intention, but not her exclusivity. Of the thousands of girls deserving education, she selected only 150 to attend. Winfrey chose expensive designer furniture, china, and even the uniforms. She wants the girls to experience the sense they deserve good things, with the notion being their self-esteem and confidence will grow. Maybe so, but does it cost $40 million dollars to do this for 150 girls? Will huge fireplaces in every building really contribute to creating “beauty that inspires” as she claims? Oprah was quoted: “I wanted this to be a place of honor for them because these girls have never been treated with kindness. They’ve never been told they are pretty or have wonderful dimples. I wanted to hear those things as a child.” Um, kindness is not expressed in fancy china or color-matched rugs and couches. How about spending less money on commodities and hiring more excellent teachers to shower the girls with kindness through teaching their minds, mentoring their spirits, and nurturing their souls?

And why is she devoting so much effort and money to girls in South Africa? I’m not contending they are undeserving. It’s just that there are many girls in America that could use the same assistance. If she spent less money in South Africa, perhaps she could do more in both places. But no, here is her explanation.

Oprah also knows that some people will complain that charity should begin at home, even though she has provided millions of dollars to educate poor children in the United States, especially via her Oprah Winfrey Scholars Program. But she sees the two situations as entirely different. “Say what you will about the American educational system — it does work,” she says. “If you are a child in the United States, you can get an education.” And she doesn’t think that American students — who, unlike Africans, go to school free of charge — appreciate what they have. “I became so frustrated with visiting inner-city schools that I just stopped going. The sense that you need to learn just isn’t there,” she says. “If you ask the kids what they want or need, they will say an iPod or some sneakers. In South Africa, they don’t ask for money or toys. They ask for uniforms so they can go to school.”

She is entirely free to allocate her philanthropy however she chooses, but her explanation sounds more like giving up on the youth here.

I believe Jonathan Kozol would have much to say about that. Here’s an excerpt from his website:

Education is taken for granted in modern American society. If a child cannot afford to attend a private or parochial school, which are generally seen as better than the alternative, then they go to public school. The assumption is made, because of compulsory attendance laws, and the societal emphasis on childhood learning, no matter what, a child is getting an education. Unfortunately, attendance is not a prerequisite for education. A child in a classroom faces many obstacles that should not be faced at such an early age. Instead of the next spelling test that pupil must deal with issues from discrimination to shoddy facilities to a lack of funding per pupil. In some communities children are bussed forty miles to their schools. The difference between the spending of suburban communities per student and urban communities per student is quite enormous. How can our society expect to survive when under-privileged urban children are not even being given the chance to compete on an equal footing with their suburban counterparts? Children should be allowed to be children. No child should ever bear the burden of adult concerns until they are ready. For the past thirty-five years, Jonathon Kozol has been an advocate for children. He points out the discrepancies that make our educational system so blatantly hypocritical. He is not the only advocate of the forgotten pupil, yet he has been among the most vocal and active.

I’ve read many of Kozol’s books, all of which are compelling; he is one of my heroes for his tireless efforts to change an unresponsive culture. You can read more at his website.

I recommend The Shame of the Nation: The Restoration of Apartheid Schooling in America, an updated critique of public education; it follows up on his original work, Savage Inequalities: Children in America’s Schools, in which he assessed schools he visited from 1988-1990.

Five Things You Might Not Know About Me

Dick Richards, the author of Come Gather Round, tagged me for a meme. I’m to write about five things you might not know about me.

Although I go exclusively by the name Kathryn now, everyone called me Kathy for 25 years (unless I was in trouble with my parents). At age 12, I wanted to make my name (and myself) more special, so I changed the spelling to Kathie. In 1980 I was a finalist in a regional poetry contest, and I went to Wells College in Aurora, New York, to spend the weekend learning about poetry from Bruce Bennett and Dan Masterson (who had recently published On Earth As It Is). The workshop was populated by upper class, privately educated girls from Virginia, Georgia, Delaware, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and Massachusetts. This was my first opportunity to be away from home alone, so I experimented and introduced myself as Kate. I was Kate for three full days; I liked it, but it didn’t stick. I remained Kathie until my mid-twenties.
When I was about 24, I gave serious consideration to legally changing my name to Kathie. It was a time in my life where I struggled to define myself; I was working in a job that felt too small, living a life that was too tight, still overly concerned with what others thought of me. I’d read an article arguing that women with names ending in “y” or “ie” might be taken less seriously in their professions, and it made sense. It’s a diminutive. I wanted to be substantial. I came to a conclusion: my name is Kathryn. It is on my birth certificate. It is a lovely name with a particularly pretty spelling. Those with the same spelling know that the pronunciation is slightly different. It’s “Kath-ryn” and not “Kath-er-ine.” So I decided to be the name I was given, and I made this known. My family, bless them, accommodated this. I expected them to be the slowest to change, since those who’ve known you longest have the hardest time changing. But in fairly short order that’s how they referred to me and continue to this day. Sometimes they call me Kath — but never Kathie. And you know what? I’m not a Kathy, however it is spelled. I am Kathryn. It suits me.

One intense pet peeve is when people, upon meeting a person, ignore the name given and shorten it into a nickname. I will correct people who call me Kathy after I’ve introduced myself as Kathryn. And though I do prefer my spelling, I am forgiving of other versions, as there are about 2,000 ways to spell my name (slight exaggeration).

When I was nine years old, I had a love affair with Christmas — in July! Seriously. One summer I filled a composition book — you know, the one with the black and white marbled cover — with drawing after drawing in pencil of various Christmas-related scenes. I drew a manger, scene. I drew me sitting in my pjs on the sofa by our tree. I drew wreathes, ornaments, and bells. I wrote out a wish list for Santa. And I even, that summer, made Christmas decorations from construction paper. I still have all this packed somewhere in a box. Yep, I’ve loved the Yule season since very early on.

The summer I was five we camped near the Sault Ste. Marie river. My father brought us to the beach. My two older sisters (11 and 12 years old) were in the river farther out. They were jumping up and down and waving at an enormous tanker that was heading for the Soo Locks. That ship created quite an undertow. I was mimicking my sisters, waving madly, and was unaware of the undertow until is swept me into a drop-off. Suddenly I was under water, and I could not swim. Everything happened fast and all is a memory of confusion. I remember the sunlit water, feeling surprised at where I ended up. Maybe I breathed in once. But before long — seconds really — I was yanked up by my eldest sister. The next thing I remember is standing at the edge of the beach crying, feeling scared, wanting my father and mother. Just think… you might never have encountered this here weblog, if my sisters hadn’t noticed what happened. The next summer I learned to swim, and guess what? I learned first by swimming underwater. Most kids fear that and learn it last. But I wanted to control whether I went under water, so I chose to learn underwater so I could do that.

I was raised a Roman Catholic. I was a sincere believer and very diligent in attending church. I even thought about becoming a nun. I wanted to be a priest for about five seconds until I killed that thought, seeing as how it had no chance in coming true. But still, I wanted to be more involved in mass, so I became a lay reader of scripture. In Catholic mass, the lay readings are usually a passage from the Old Testament and one passage from the New Testament, but never a gospel. Gospels are reserved for priests only to read. In any case, at age 14 I was tired of listening to old white men droning as they read. I wanted the scripture to come alive to the listeners. So I became one, and I felt that when I read I made a contribution, however small.

I’ve eaten a dog biscuit. It was a game of truth or dare with three girlfriends. I was in my late 30s and had never played truth or dare. It was a sleep-over with these other women, who were all in their mid-20s. (We’d become friends through work, and not long after we parted ways.) I was a reluctant participant. There was a question asked of me that I felt was just nobody’s business, so I took the dare. Let me tell you this: dog biscuits are dry and tasteless, much as I think sawdust would taste. I ate the whole damn thing and choked down a glass of water, and yes, I kept it down. Ugh. After that I decided I was way too old for such games; give me Trivial Pursuit any day.

And there you have it. Now you know five things you probably didn’t know before. You are welcome to play along if you like. Leave a link in the comments if you do. There are some folks I’d like to know more about, though: Laurel, Shirley, Leah, Gerry, and Donna. But the more the merrier!

No Moss Gathering On Me

Oh my goodness, I am a woman in motion. In a previous post I mentioned possible volunteer jobs I wanted to look into and getting more involved at the UU church in Palo Alto.

UUCPA has a talent/volunteer survey on their site one can download and complete. It’s a way to explore how to become involved and find a niche or two in the community. I’ve had it a long time; Sunday I filled it out and emailed it to the office administrator. I received a reply acknowledging this and that one of the ministers would get in touch next week to meet with me. I also received an invitation to lunch after the next service. At first I hesitated, but I decided it wouldn’t kill me to commit to one lunch. (I’m very possessive of my weekend time, especially Sundays, for some reason.) I also decided to attend a potluck dinner this Saturday evening, put on by the members of the Humanist Roots group. They have dinner monthly, and there’s a topic for discussion. I’ll bake cookies and go with a curious mind.

Yesterday I contacted the Read Santa Clara program and learned I’m just in time to attend an orientation on the 16th and join the training program later in the month to become a literacy tutor with adults. I’ll also visit them tomorrow to discuss another program they are developing, the Even Start conversation group program. This will involve facilitating speaking practice with adults learning English who are at a very basic level. And lastly, I’ve contacted the San Jose library and sent an application in to become a reader for kids. I’m playing phone tag with them, and one message indicated there will be a training later in the month. I’m hoping it will mesh with my schedule. (It occurred to me that my mother became a literacy tutor around the age I am now; I remember it was a rewarding relationship of several years with her student, an older woman. I think she was Italian? She used to send us cookies at Christmas.)

The new AmeriCorps members began work today, and it really feels like the days are winding down there. It’s been an intense and sometimes difficult year. I haven’t written about the difficulties, because a blog is not the place to vent about work, but it’s not been all wine and roses (and I’m not referring to the killer schedule). Overall, though, it’s been an excellent experience.

My father emailed me with an idea for possible future work. He pointed out the needs of an aging generation that, as he said, “will set new numbers never before reached in the U.S.” He suggested these folks will need guidance on health and finances and how not to get ripped off by scams. They also need an education on growing old with grace and independence, and how to avoid being warehoused in a facility if they want to remain at home. I’ve considered this trend in the past, and it’s a timely suggestion. There is significant potential for advocacy work as the population ages. I can see the need for education, enlightening people on the process of aging, and fighting ageism. I wonder if I might create some type of coaching practice to provide service for these needs. Hmmm.

Thoughts On the Moment and Declarations of Purpose

Comfort: coming home after dark and settling onto the couch to the feel of warmth that was created by sleeping cats.

Anticipation: wandering through the library book stacks knowing that every single one is mine to borrow and read, thousands and thousands of potential journeys.

Joy: singing silly songs, telling puns, and generally being weird with Husband in a way that only he is privileged to know, and making him laugh.

***

Night arrives fully by 7:00 p.m. these days. Dawn is gray and cool, sometimes foggy here in the South Bay. We’ve turned the corner of a season. This change is gradual, but there is always one day in each season that the realization is palpable and prominent to me.

***

In the next week or so I’ll get a blood test that will assess my hormone levels (FSH, Estradiol). On October 18 we’ll visit the doctor to discuss whatever the results are. What we decide to do will be based on this and further conversations between us, so there’s no more to say on that topic at the moment.

I’ve been feeling sad about my imminent departure from the agency. Three of my four fellow AmeriCorps are renewing, and four new AmeriCorps have been hired (the team increased from five to seven). Soon I will be training my replacement and letting go of my tasks and duties. Iâ€™ll cherish the relaxation that follows, but I’m also anxious about becoming bored and lonely. Without a schedule or purpose, without being required by someone somewhere, I tend to get lost in my head. The more alone I am the more unsocial I feel as well as lonely, and then my lethargy increases. This is not the life I want.

I recently had an epiphany about my direction after the service term ends October 31. You see, all my life I’ve felt plagued by the fact that I’m interested in so much and want to advance so many causes. It really has made it difficult for me to define and articulate what I want to do and to search for work. And there were many times that I took work I didnâ€™t want because I just needed an income. Eventually I clarified my goals and became a psychotherapist, but the move to California required sacrificing this.

My year at Hands On Bay Area has given me connections, and it also created my little epiphany, which is this:

The overarching theme throughout my life, the one thread of interest woven through the years, is a devotion to formal and informal education â€“ primarily reading, writing, and soaking up knowledge. The causes I donate the most money to are literacy and libraries. I’m a seeker and an information hound. I am pained to know that so many people do not find pleasure in reading. The average adult native English speaker reads at the sixth grade level. Non-native English speakers average at the fourth grade level. While these next words may seem extreme (it’s an indicator of the passion I feel), I would dare to say that learning â€“ in all its facets, with all it entails â€“ is the most important human pursuit after survival needs are met (note: I consider affectional bonds part of survival). I want my next phase employment to be in the education sector. (My Dad would be proud.)

Even as stated, this is still a broad canvas. It could mean a job in a government education office creating policy, work in a social service agency providing job search or computer training, being a teacher’s aid in an elementary school, working for a public library. But the bottom line, for me, is that I want to devote my efforts to igniting curiosity, promoting creative and critical thinking, and helping people to acquire that most essential key to success, literacy. If I’m lucky, I’ll inspire a passion for reading as well. As I ponder this more, I feel I will want to work in direct service rather than administration. I don’t want to become a school teacher, which requires yet more costly education. There are other ways to promote the life of the mind, and I intend to find them.

As much as my kids tested me to the limit when I worked as an education coach in an after school program, I adored them too. As a treat I read aloud The Phantom Tollbooth (and gave each student a copy as a reward for trying). Whenever I finished a chapter, I was bathed in a chorus of, “Read more, teacher! Please read us some more!” It made me happy to give this pleasure, and I felt sad knowing how uncommon an experience this was for them.

How does this coincide with the efforts to start a family? Well, at the very least I can explore volunteering at several non-profits. So far what has caught my attention are a read-to-children volunteer program at San Jose Public Library, and conversation ESL group work through the Santa Clara City Library. I may also become a literacy tutor. Lastly, Hands On Bay Area offers several projects that contribute to literacy: ESL conversation, organizing a children’s library, story hour with kids at a library. There’s a way to keep my hand in the game. Out of this, perhaps a job will arise. Meanwhile we’ll keep exploring the fertility/family planning issues.

Here’s another way I can keep myself engaged with life. I recently attended service at the Palo Alto UU Church and liked it. I’ve been on their community mailing list for over a year. When the call came to help by baking cookies for The Opportunity Center, I eagerly answered. There are many needs that I could assist with in the church. They also don’t have a program that I would be interested in developing (offered at other churches) â€“ a lay listening ministry. Also (but wait, there’s more!), one of the adult religious education classes starting soon caught my attention, and I decided to register*. I feel ready to delve into this community.

*Class description follows: Continue reading →