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8001 B.C. Update

Sometimes you’re never completely sure about a change of direction until you’ve already committed to it.

I took a while on a business trip lately to re-write  the work-in-progress that I’d originally titled THE TIME TO DECIDE.  Which is posted– the 1st eight chapters– in the sidebar category to your right.  It’s now entitled (again, tentatively) DAYS OF DECISION.

Anyway, I decided to switch from a narrative told in the 2nd person (which, admittedly, is a rare usage) to the far more conventional 1st person, and I’m pleased with the change.

It had been sorta recommended to me by a local high school teacher who teaches an ethics class, and whom I’d given the opening 2 chapters to present to his class.  He (and they) found the 2nd person difficult to understand, and if they couldn’t get it, I was clearly “failing to communicate.”

If you’d like a copy of the revised version (it’s still only 17,000 words– I’m projecting 50,000 for the finished product), just give me a holler at john@thankgodyourealive.com.

And again:

THANK GOD I MADE THIS CHANGE BEFORE I’D GONE ANY FURTHER!

…   

This Means You!

THANK GOD I’M NOT ANY OF THOSE!

Who’s the Guy with the Shades?

So…  Yesterday I was out on the patio having lunch, and reading some new book on Arthur Koestler (whom I’ve never read) in The New Republic.

Anyway, the critic was making a point about how Koestler (in Darkness At Noon) and Hemingway (in For Whom The Bell Tolls) used fiction to portray their “disillusion” with Russia’s experiment with Marxism.  (And I don’t want to get into that in this note: that’s not the point.)  These two writers, at any rate, as opposed to people like Sidney Hook and Edmund Wilson who took the more obvious route: non-fiction.

What I suddenly realized, reading through it, is that I’d probably be better off writing THE TIME TO DECIDE in the first person.  Still as fiction– sort of– but not in the 2nd person.  That was– for me– an important realization.

A few months ago I gave one of our local high-school teachers, who teaches an ethics course, the first 20 pages or so of THE TIME TO DECIDE, and he said he liked the humor, and could appreciate the point I was trying to make, but he found the 2nd-person approach confusing.  As in: who are you (the author) talking to?  (And if he didn’t get it, I was making my attempt at communicating overly difficult.)

So just yesterday I realized that I’ve gotta switch to the 1st person.  Sacre bleu!  Why didn’t I think of that earlier?

So…  All I’ll have to do is re-write what I’ve already written in the 1st person.  Shouldn’t be difficult.  What I’m hoping for, obviously, is increased immediacy.  A storyteller with whom a reader can connect.

And “transposing” what I’ve already written of THE TIME TO DECIDE from 2nd person to 1st person reminds me of when J.S. Bach was putting together Book One of The Well-Tempered Clavier.  The prelude and fugue in C-sharp major that we know was actually written originally in C (natural) major.  A big difference, from a sight-reader’s perspective, but from Bach’s point-of-view, all he had to do was add a key signature with 7 sharps, change a few accidentals, and viola! a piece in C-sharp major.  (This is the only key-change you can do that with.)  (My Peters edition gives an alternative in D-flat major, which with 5 flats is slightly easier to read.  In Book Two Bach didn’t even bother writing a C-sharp major version.)

So if you choose to take a gander at the opening chapters of THE TIME TO DECIDE here, for the time being at least they’ll still be the 2nd-person version, but the story will be the same nonetheless.

So all I can say, for the moment, is:

THANK GOD I REALIZED THIS BEFORE I GOT ANY FARTHER!

Winterskol Fireworks

Every year for Wintersköl, we have a torchlight descent on Little Nell, followed by a great fireworks display overhead.  It’s the one night of the winter when you don’t bring your dog to town. Dogs absolutely hate fireworks.

The rest of us get a big “kick” out of them, but our canine companions hide under beds and desks and whimper.

So, if I could sit down and reason with our family pooch, and after I’d run through all the reasons I could think of, my solace of last resort would be:

THANK GOD YOU DON’T LIVE IN MONTE CARLO!

Anyone get the license on that truck?

Once or twice a week, in the winter, I walk up and down Buttermilk Mountain, which is our dedicated beginners’ ski area.  (Not that you can’t enjoy it, at any level of ski ability.  It’d be the most popular ski area around, if it didn’t have to compete in Aspen with 3 other world-class ski areas.)  It’s a good workout: an hour up, 45 minutes back down.  And I usually wind up helping out one or two folks every time I’m out there, with one thing or another.  (I used to work at B’milk, a long time ago, so I know the place pretty well.)

And once upon a time, I learned to snowboard there.

Or, should I say: I attempted to learn to snowboard there.

Cuz it’s harder than I’d realized, not being able to recall learning to ski when I was a little munchkin.

It’s scenes like the above photo, which I see every day in one variant or another, that make me say:

THANK GOD I DON’T HAVE TO LEARN THIS ALL OVER AGAIN!

General Heathen, indeed!

My wife’s off this morning to be a “greeter” at our local episcopal church.  Not being a believer, myself,  I don’t have to go with her.

We were joking, this morning in bed, about how some folks there must think that she’s a widow, or a divorcee.

For no apparent reason, that reminded me of an old joke:

The minister for a church one day up and absconds with all the church funds.  Every penny. He just vanishes.  So the church elders choose a trusted church member to go out and find him.  Bring him back, if possible.  At least recover the money.

So a year later, the trusted church member returns, looking pretty beat-up and bedraggled.  He reports that he did, indeed, find the scoundrel.  He’d been in Las Vegas all this time.

And what had he done with all the money? the church elders wanted to know.

And the trusted church member, somewhat sheepishly, replied, “Well, some of it he spent on gambling, and some of it went to drink and drugs, and a lot of it he spent on wild women…”

“And…?” the elders prompted.

“… And…” the trusted church member stuttered, “… and the rest of it, I guess, he just squandered.”

Anyway, I don’t know who that guy in the photo is, but you’ve gotta admire a man who stands up for his convictions!

Or do you?

All I can say is:

THANK GOD I’M NOT ONE OF THOSE!

“I hate your boyfriend!”

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOU DETEST YOUR BEST FRIEND’S BOYFRIEND?

Boy, that’s a toughie.  (But at least it’s better than your best friend’s husband.  In theory, at least, a boyfriend is temporary.)

Fortunately, this isn’t my problem.  It’s my daughter’s.

But my initial answer was, upon reflection, probably as good as any I’d ever come up with:

THANK GOD HE’S NOT YOURS!!

Look at the bright side!

485499158_bc19eac831_m

One of my kids always used to say that.  He doesn’t anymore.  Maybe growing into adolescence has forced him to be less blindly optimistic.

Anyway…

Just finished reading Barbara Ehrenreich’s new book, Bright-Sided.  (How the relentless promotion of positive thinking has undermined America.)

She develops a line of reasoning that today’s omni-present feel-good ethos is a direct outgrowth of the late-19th century need (in America) to replace dour Calvinism with a less-bitter-tasting way to scramble after salvation.

Hence mega-churches without any visual relation to God (e.g., no crosses, no stained glass, no sanctuary); pitiless self-help books (too numerous to list, save perhaps The Secret);corporate efforts to increase productivity (or at least the company’s stock price) by re-vitalizing and boosting morale for those lucky employees who haven’t been shit-canned; and society’s overall need for self-delusion, in the form (among many) of refusing to address totally obvious problems (poverty, discrimination, crumbling infrastructure, health care, etc. etc.)

One aspect of her argument that confused me, though, was:  If the new mega-churches are basically devoid of fire-and-brimstone, if “God” is now just an adjunct “resource provider,” not a frowning, judgmental old grouch…

And if the mega-churches are indeed the wave of the future, when it comes to religion, and the “prosperity gospel” doesn’t want to have to address uncomfortable topics like temptation and sin and eternal damnation, then how come we still have this huge consternation over issues like abortion and homosexuality?  Obviously there are still plenty of “old religion” folks out there, wielding enormous influence.

Witness, just over the weekend, Barack Obama’s need to promise exclude abortion payments from health-care plans (should they pass).

One wonders whether we’re making any social progress at all.

But cheer up!

Look at the bright side!

On Compromise

the heiressMy wife was watching “The Heiress” (Paramount, 1949) on Turner Classic Movies a few weeks ago, but couldn’t stay up for the whole thing.

So  I went online looking for it, to see when it might be on again…

Turns out: It’s a movie version (and not the first) of Henry James’s novel Washington Square.  Olivia DeHavilland and Montgomery Clift.  I didn’t watch it, but from what I gather, it’s about:

Young woman falls for a dashing young man, who’s clearly interested in her only after discovering that she’ll inherit millions, once her father dies.  The dad (Ralph Richardson), of course, sees through it all right from the start, but he’s powerless to convince his daughter of the young man’s insincerity.

I found myself thinking that, in Henry James, it’s always all about nuance.

In the sense that, given an imperfect world, we’ll never marry someone who’s perfect, so one must choose one’s mate based upon degrees of good and bad.  Good and bad qualities, good and bad characteristics, a mixture of good and bad behavior.  I guess: what you’re willing to tolerate.

In a way, it’s a belief that life is always a compromise.  You want rich: you might have to settle for not-so-handsome, or not-so-interesting.  You want love: you might have to live in a garret.  Life’s always a trade-off.

And so the trick is to discern the subtle degrees of acceptability.

With Jane Austen, in the end it’s always all about love.  Finances, pedigree be damned.  But in the real world, Henry James’s world, you’ve got to choose between various imperfect creatures, and so you’ve got to be able to juggle a very complicated ”algorithm.”

Which leads me to the basic point of the new book I’m working on, The Time To Decide.

I’d think that we’d all agree that certain situations or actions are totally unacceptable.  Like slavery.  Racism.  Enforced inequality of the sexes.  The list doesn’t go on and on, but there are certain societal actions, certain institutions which are flat-out wrong(by today’s standards, not by yesterday’s or perhaps tomorrow’s), and about which one simply shouldn’t compromise.

How do you compromise over genocide?  How do you compromise over forced child prostitution?  How do you compromise over… not letting a colored family move in next door?

The argument of the new book is: We’ve gotten so accustomed to all the various excuses/explanations/justifications for one human killing another, that we’ve come to accept the  reality of everyday murder (or whatever name you want to use for any particular instance) without once questioning whether there might be an alternative.

In the book, you’re presented with an alternative scenario:

What if human beings, 1000′s of years ago, had collectively decided that the conscious, willing taking of another human life… was simply unacceptable.  Ever.

So much for “compromise.”  So much for “nuance.”  Is this “a pipe dream”?  Is this “utopianism’?  Is this “naiveté”?  So was racial equality.  So was gender equality.  So was freedom of speech, for that matter.

Ideas are of their own time.  Slavery still exists (travel in Africa if you don’t believe me), but as the economic necessity for it and as alternative political systems render it blatantly shameful, it’s practiced only out-of-view of the wider world.  Racism still exists, even more obviously, but one can hope that it, too, will fade from moral/ethical ”fashion”.

So why not killing?  Why are we still so thoughtlessly willing to accept the fact of everyday killing, as if there were no alternative?  (Much as the pharoahs wouldn’t questioned slavery.)

Why is killing still a basically human default?  The knee-jerk solution to conflict?  And when will that begin to change?

Assuming that it will change, someday, when exactly are we predicting that will happen?

And is it gonna happen all on its own?

A couple of Vonnegut anecdotes

vonnegut 2If you looked into my sidebar category of recommended books to read (ones that I didn’t write), you’d find Kurt Vonnegut’s The Sirens of Titan listed, and also John Bogle’s new book, Enough.

The title of John Bogle’s book comes from a story of a conversation between Kurt Vonnegut and fellow author Joseph Heller.  Apparently, one day some years ago, both of the men were at a garden party at the home of some super-wealthy hedge-fund manager in the Hamptons.  Anyway, at some point, Vonnegut turned to Heller and said, “Do you realize that this guy made more money last week than you’ve made– over your entire life– for writing Catch-22?”

And Heller looked at Vonnegut and smiled, and said, “Yeah, but I’ve got something he’ll never have.”

And Vonnegut asked, sincerely, “What’s that?”

And Heller said, “Enough.”

As in: “I’ve already got enough (to help me find happiness), and no matter how much moolah this guy accumulates, he’ll never have enough.”

Which may not actually be true– for that particular guy.  One can attain great wealth and achieve happiness.  The two needn’t be mutually exclusive.  (That’s the poor man’s smugness.)

Anyway, I think it’s a cool story, nonetheless.

The other story goes back to my student days.  I had a friend who worked at the Sears in Falmouth, I think (on Cape Cod), and she told me once that Vonnegut used to come in all the time.  That he bought all his clothes there.

And for years afterwards, after I’d moved out West, I didn’t have a Sears in my immediate area, but I did have a JC Penney.  And so I’d by a lot of my clothes there, and think to myself: “If Sears is good enough for Kurt Vonnegut, JC Penney should be good enough for me.”

… For what that’s worth.