Osler's Razor

Look what's up at the front page at MSNBC!:  http://www.msnbc.com/msnbc/obama-pardons-clemency-2014

Welcome back, OsoGrande!  And here was Oso's haiku:

Floyd Casey SO COLD
They said hell would freeze over
Baylor won Big 12.

How could you not like that?  Meanwhile, in the long-form division:

Peanut and diamonds
Lone Star and sparkling red wine
Life is made of both.

Cowboys and rich girls
They both live in the same world
In a country song.

A reminder that
Our lives are a mixed bag
Of having, wanting.

People!  After a bumper crop recently, we are woefully short on haiku this week!  Perhaps everyone is skiing, or at dance class or something, but I know the good words and true are out there...

Haiku Friday is by far my own favorite day at the Razor.  I'm happy to be the worst poet on there, week after week, when it means I get the chance to read what some of you can do.  And the personalities!  They come out in the best way.  Except Geoffrey.  He sucks.

Since this is the last Haiku Friday of the year, let's haiku about 2013's most memorable moments, either societal or personal.  I think it is important to freeze a few of them for posterity... there is a lot of latitude here, so have some fun!

I will go first:

Long gone from Baylor
So now they rule Big 12!
Wish I could see that.

Now it is your turn!  Just make it 5 syllables/7 syllables/5 syllables, and enjoy it!

Yesterday, I drove to Michigan, to my parents' house.  My family is stretched out along I-94-- Minneapolis, Chicago, Ann Arbor, Detroit-- so that highway is the string that connects us.

As I headed East, it was raining, and then the temperature started to drop below freezing.  Getting gas, I felt the ice clumps falling from the sky sting my hands.  It's the worst thing for driving, of course, and I knew that.

Back on the road, I felt the little bit of slippage that goes with freezing rain.  You are turning, and for a split-second your tires aren't tires at all but spheres on casters, going whichever way your momentum is headed.  For that moment, you aren't in control.  One of two things happens:  Either the tires catch and you make the turn, or they don't and you slide off into something-- another car, a guard rail, the snow, a truck.  For that terrifying moment, when you sense that slide begin, you don't know which fate you have.

In that sliver of time you are helpless, utterly helpless.  In the creche, there is that image of a helplessness, a baby, looking up.  In that moment, I thought of that.

Then, the wheels caught.  I made the turn.  That was grace, I know; it might have been the other, the truck or the car or sliding into a rail.  I did not earn my outcome, but I got it in that second, and thousands of other times that day, too.  In a world immersed in tragedy, there are also oceans of grace.

You can hear my discussion of the Obama clemency action this week on NPR's "The Takeaway" by clicking on the audio link here.  I think it turned out pretty well... it was very well-produced segment.

… or from Minneapolis before 1981, you'll get this (and thanks to Steve Timmer for sending it to me!):

 So, I called my parents yesterday morning, and my Mom said, "Your dad is about to be on Fox News."

As you might imagine, I had some wild thoughts about what that might be about.  It turned out to be this, though:

Fox 2 News Headlines

I thought he did a great job with the interview.  If you are interested in getting the book, you can order it on Amazon, or buy it at the Detroit Institute of Arts, or some bookstores around Detroit...

If I had liked Rome even a little, your haiku would have made me miss it:

Lobster,cognac and
Pasta.Where is my recipe?
Firenze, I smell

Christmas cooking.Faces
Of the hungry birds yearning
For sustenance.

In her nightdress Mama
Drinks cappuccino.Papa 
Reaches for her hand.

They have been married
For so long they cannot 
Imagine sleep solo.

Last week, in the comments section, my old friend Sleepy Walleye posted this:

This is one of my favorite Christmas songs, Cinnamon and Chocolate by Butterfly Boucher, apparently recorded in her living room...

It's Advent, which has its own meaning, tradition, and songs, but within the larger culture this month is usually considered the "Christmas season."  Regardless of what you call it, it is the time we have to get ready for Christmas with parties, tree decoration, and shopping.

Let's haiku about all of that!  What are you busy doing?

Here is mine:

I'm hoarding music
To make the right Christmas mix:
Trending towards jazz.

Now it is your turn!  This is a broad category, so have fun with it, and use the 5 syllable/7 syllable/5 syllable formula o' fun!

In Advent, I often take a break from Political Mayhem Thursday, a tradition I will keep this year.  (Though my piece yesterday in the Huffington Post created enough tumult for a while).  Instead, I am going to describe a few images that I can't get out of my head-- things that haunt me in the quiet moments we should be seeking in this season.

I was on the subway in New York at about 5:10 pm.  I was riding the 2 train, an express that goes up the west side of the city carrying all kinds of people-- it's a very diverse group, from the homeless to financial mavens riding from work to home.  It was a cold, snowy day, and people were wreathed in warm clothes.

On a train like that you are smashed in together, and there is a certain beauty to it, something that flows from the destruction of our normal sense of personal space.  There are certain unspoken rules in that situation, though.  For example, it seems to be transgressive to look anyone else in the eyes for more than a moment, even though their eyes are only inches from you own, and it's not an easy thing to avoid.

At 14th Street, a woman got on and was packed in beside me.  She was a little older than I am, and looked like someone I might know.  I made the mistake of looking her in the eye to see if I did, and she quickly turned away. 

She was wearing one of those thin-but-warm down jackets, in dark blue.  She had the hood up, with wisps of her blond bob sticking out and the temples of her glasses tucked underneath.  I looked down to see her shoes, and found that she was wearing those wonderful LL Bean shoes with the rubber uppers-- nothing keeps feet warmer and drier.  Clearly, she was coming from or going to a situation where she would be outside for a while in the snow, perhaps walking to or from the train.

There was something about her that did remind me of women I have known my whole life-- well-educated, readers, someone who can discuss theory-- that are a good chunk of the productive population of places like Grosse Pointe and Edina and Yale.  "Do I know her?" I thought to myself, "or is she just like someone I know?"

The train rattled into Penn Station and the doors opened; more people pressed in, so that her hip was pressed against mine.  Her face was now less than a foot away, close enough to read the name of the designer on the inside of the frames of her glasses.  I noticed that she had a purse in one hand and a shopping bag in the other, clutched tightly in leather-gloved hands. 

The doors closed and the wheels screeched as we left the station towards Times Square.  People settled into their positions, and other than the sounds of the car itself, there was quiet.

I looked up and saw a tear rolling down her cheek.

It wasn't melting snow or ice; it was silent crying.  Her face was set hard and cold, but could not betray the truth of that tear as it traced over the curve of her cheek, moving slowly over the skin.  I stared, I know-- I couldn't help it, because there was something ineffably beautiful, remarkably human about the moment.

I wondered why she didn't wipe away the tear, with just a quick motion and the back of her hand, but realized that with the bags in her hands, her arms were trapped beside her body among the crush of people.  She was helpless.  The tear continued its snail crawl, inexorable, determined.  I saw it move in super close-up, from only a few inches away.

There was an overwhelming urge within me to reach up and do what she could not-- wipe away that tear.

I did not, though.  It felt too transgressive, too intimate, to touch her skin, if even for a moment; to recognize that I knew she was crying, that I knew she had something so sad, so true, that trapped and helpless deep on the 2 train she could not hold it back.

She was, as I said, like so many people I have known and been.

I was watching the Baylor game on Saturday (Yay Bears!) and was noticing how the fans were dressed for the cold (it was about 25 degrees at game time).  Even leaving aside the half-naked people with their bodies painting (all of whom I am assuming are dead by now), there seemed to be a lot of folks who.... well, they wouldn't survive long in Minnesota.

For example, the guy above with the "I'm kinda cold" sign.  Dude, you are cold in large part because you are using a blanket open-style, like a cape.  That's not going to do much for you, given the two-foot gap in the front.  The sign isn't going to help much, either, unless you burn it (which is probably illegal in a stadium).

A little better were the people who looked like they were dressed to go cross-country skiing, with sleek tight-fitting things.  Those work great if you are, in fact, skiing, because they depend on the heat your body generates.  They aren't as good when you are doing something sedentary, like sitting to watch a football game (the Texas fans seemed especially, uh, sedentary).

Here is what Minnesotans do if they are going to a December football game (or, more likely, ice-fishing):

1)  Layering is important, but wear the right layers.  Your base layer should not be a t-shirt, or anything else made of cotton, because that will absorb water and hold that cold sweat right next to your body.  That's bad for you, and really bad for whoever is washing your clothes.  Your base layer (including socks) should be a non-cotton wicking material like silk or dri-fit.

2)  If you are going to be sitting, you need a puffy jacket.  Many Minnesotans have two puffy jackets filled with down or synthetic down.  Little puffy is for active events or temps above 20 or so.  Big puffy is for cold, sedentary activities.  You look like a blueberry, but you are a warm blueberry.

3)  Wear a hat!  Lots of heat comes off your head.  Yes, it will give you hat-head, but at least you will continue to have a head.

4)  Something to cover your neck and face, like a scarf or neck gator, is a great thing.

5)  On your hands, mittens are better than gloves.  Cotton will not cut it-- and if you are going to be throwing snowballs, make sure there is a waterproof outer layer.

6)  Finally, don't ask RRL for advice.  He was at the game in a Led Zepplin II t-shirt, I hear.  Instead, ask Woody for advice.  He is from Milwaukee, and still alive, so he must be doing something right.

Oklahoma has allowed the erection of a Ten Commandments monument on the steps of the state Capitol.  Now, seeking equal accommodation, the Satanic Temple wants to put up its own monument there, possibly including "an interactive exhibit for children."

Hoo boy!  The Satanists, of course, have a point.  If a public square is going to accommodate expressions of religion, it probably can't choose which religions get to express themselves without getting into a Constitutional morass.  (This is different than a coin saying 'In God we trust," for example, because the coin can't accommodate multiple expressions and is not a public space like a plaza or Capitol lawn might be).

As I have written before, the idea that the Constitution is based on the Ten Commandments doesn't hold water (the First Amendment bars implementation by the state of the First Commandment, for example); the only real Christian virtue expressly contained in the Constitution is the pardon power's preservation of mercy.   Oklahoma's mistake is to allow private citizens to put up the Ten Commandments in the first place-- it both implies a false connection between church and state, and invites the Satanists in.


But... if they are going to have a Satanist Monument, couldn't it somehow involve Spinal Tap?

There were some stellar haikus last week-- the topic of skating led to some great images.  I shouldn't be surprised, though, that my favorite came from the person who is also the best skater, former Colgate hockey player Craig A.  For those of you who don't know, a "toque" is a hat if you are from Boston or Toronto or someplace like that where they talk funny::

Rockridge pond hockey
Shoes for goals, Toques for helmets,
Play into winter night.

As the nation continues its recovery from a deep recession caused by reckless real estate investments (by home buyers, lenders, and derivatives traders), it is increasingly clear that the wealthy are recovering while the poor and middle class are not.  Stock prices are high, but wages are not.

In the midst of this, Congress has cut food stamps, and is poised to cut more.

I'm baffled by this.  Given our continued support of agri-businesses through enormous subsidies, why is it we treat poor people different than those corporations, even within the context of a single farm bill?  If the principle food-stamp-cutters stand on is "self sufficiency," then why doesn't that principle  apply to large corporations?  Shouldn't we make them do without the hand-outs of taxpayer money?

To apply a harsh principle to the poor but not to the rich and to corporations makes sense only if my dad is right-- that our politics are now badly skewed by the money spent on political campaigns by corporations.  Increasingly, I am convinced that he is right.

Clay is my favorite Auburn fan, and it was a great weekend to be an Auburn fan.  If you missed it, here is what happened in the Iron Bowl, the annual state rivalry game between Alabama and Auburn:



It totally messed up the BCS in the most wonderful way.  This is why I love college football.

One word:  Brining!  It made this year's turkey the best ever.  Really.

And did you see the ending of the Auburn-Alabama game?  I didn't (I was out getting food for dinner), but my parents reported it was pretty amazing.

And that haiku!  Check it all out here.  Sally's was too profane to reprint (she gets like that), but it was awesome.  As was this Italian reverie from Antonia Promessa:

Every moment is
Thanksgiving in Italy.
Pasta,Wine,Song.

I sit on the pink
piazza and drink vino
The sun is glow-warm

All Things move turtle.
We are kissing when our tall
Waiter comes with the bread.

He does not avoid
Our eyes but tries to drink from
Love's common bottle.

Man, I never did find the good stuff in Italy!

With Thanksgiving past, we enter a season of two definitions, presenting a challenge for Christians.

First, it is the Christmas season in our culture-- a time of revelry, spending, and tumult.

Second, it is the Christian season of Advent, which calls us to a time of quiet and waiting.

The two conflict in every possible way.  If we devote our time and energy to Advent, we don't get our shopping done, and we miss the parties.  The other way doesn't work either.

I wish that I could say that I do both, but I don't.  I bow much more to the culture than to my religious imperative, in part because I can't resist the impulse to indulge all of our culture's bounty this time of year.  Do others struggle with this balance?