United States — First in Space!

I’m currently working on reviewing a book which outlines the history of Catholicism in America.  Certainly no light task (the book, not the review).  As I plow through the 400 or so pages in this book, I continue to reflect on the nature of history…what exactly are we claiming to do when we do history?  What is good history?  What is bad history?  In my own field, New Testament, the question is equally valid although somewhat more difficult to answer.  As time passes, and events become more remote, determining “what actually happened” becomes more and more difficult.  I might even go so far as to claim that figuring out “what actually happened” is actually impossible.  When reconstructing an event, a movement, the context behind a text, etc., the historian is painting a landscape by looking through a relatively narrow window.  There are times when the window can become larger, and perhaps the historian may even stick her head out for a look now and again, but when returning to the canvas there is only so much that can be painted.  Some have better grasps on history than others, but the fact remains that history is far too complex to ever be completely accurate.

Now, you might be wondering about the title of this post?  Well, it involves a story that dates back to the year 2002, at the homecoming parade of my alma mater, Southern Methodist University.  It is a story of history gone awry, of a group of persons who were doing a sort of history but failing at every turn.

In this homecoming parade, as with many parades, there were floats.  A certain fraternity (that will remain nameless to avoid embarassing those who built the float), constructed a monstrosity that will forever be burned in my memory.  The float had a giant space shuttle, flanked on both sides with Apollo and Mercury rockets.  Any free space was filled with American flags.  On the front of this float, in bright, bold letters, was the statement, “United States — First in Space.”

I approached the president of the fraternity (who I later found out birthed the idea) and asked him about the float.  Specifically, I wanted to know whether it was a joke.  He looked at me and said, “No, its no joke.”  He raised an eyebrow at me, as if to say, “What are you talking about, stupid…don’t you know your history?”  I informed him as charitably as I could that America was not first in space.  Hadn’t he heard of Sputnik?  Panic overtook him, followed by a grin and the statement, “Yes, but we put the first people into space.”  I shook my head and said, “Haven’t you heard of Yuri Gagarin?”  He replied, “Nope, I haven’t.”  And with that he continued his walk.

History is written by those who have chosen to synthesize the facts, and their product can only be called an interpretation.  Sometimes, ignorance of the obvious can have terrible, embarrasing consequences, like the aforementioned homecoming float.  Other times, ignorance of the nuanced can produce equally interesting (and strange) results.

Who Do People Say That I Am?

After 8 years, this is what they say.  Hey, 1 out of 10 ain’t bad!  12 days, America…12 days.

Early Morning Lawn Maintenance

Early this morning (around 6:00), I found myself in that strange, liminal state where the line between sleep and awake becomes blurred.  I dreamed that it was still dark outside, yet I heard the sound of many lawnmowers in my neighborhood.  It was confusing, and I thought to myself, “Who the crap is mowing their yard at 6:00 in the morning?”  I finally got out of bed and realized that my dream was actually closer to reality than I had hoped.  The only difference…people were not mowing their yards, but rather they were plowing their driveways…at 6:00 in the morning.

Living in Milwaukee is  wonderful for about 7-8 months out of the year…past that, it can be somewhat annoying.  Last night’s winter storm dumped roughly 5 inches of snow on the city, and this morning I was forced to join the ranks of my neighbors who had arose early to combat the wintery enemy.  For thirty minutes, I walked up and down my driveway, blowing snow into large piles around my house, and I could not help but return to my dream in which people were mowing their yards in the wee hours of the morning.  Come to think of it, when Spring arrives, I think I will start mowing my yard before the sun has come up…why not?

A Bad Idea?

For the past couple of months, Milwaukee radio has been innundated with commercials advertising laser hair removal from a place called “Ideal Image.”  For the most part, every commercial says the same thing:  “Aren’t you unhappy with all that unwanted hair?  Don’t you want to have more time to do the things you want to do?  Wouldn’t your life be easier if you didn’t have to shave every day?  Isn’t a hairless person a happier person?”  Largely, the commercials are directed toward women, but men are also welcome to partake of the ritual.

In recent weeks, in anticipation of the Christmas season, the commercials have taken a different advertising approach.  Just this morning, I heard a commercial that advocated laser hair removal as a gift for your loved ones.  Get your significant other a gift certificate to Ideal Image for Christmas!  They’ll love you for it!

Now, I can imagine a woman buying such a gift for her man with little to no problem.  Men are notorious for growing hair in strange places, and they are even more notorious for not caring about it.  For the most part, if they don’t have to pay for it, and if they know it will make their female counterparts happy, men will welcome the idea of going in and getting their unsightly growths removed.  Such a gift from a woman to a man is not a problem.

However, the image of a man giving the gift of laser hair removal to his woman is more that slightly problematic.  In my mind, it is on par with getting your wife a thighmaster or an appointment with a nutritionist.  Isn’t “Hey, I thought you might want to take care of that hair I don’t like” the same as “Hey, it would be great if you had smaller thighs?”

Maybe I’m reading too far into this.  Your thoughts are appreciated.

Another Post Concerning Air Travel

I’m beginning to notice a theme here…whenever I get on a plane, I feel like writing a post.  I suppose this is a good thing, mostly because I have steered away from consistent posting.  Ah well, c’est la vie.

Some thoughts about my most recent trip back to Dallas.

1.  When I was a kid, the employees at the x-ray machine were nice to children.  They used to invite me behind the screen to look at the insides of my bags.  I loved every second of it.  Now, children are probably trafficking bombs or guns.  They are perhaps even more suspect than we are.  The other day, in the Milwaukee airport, I actually saw a security guard tell a 4 year old to spread their legs and hold their arms out wide.  It made me want to throw up.

2.  When I was a kid, water was not believed to be hazardous to anyone, unless of course you were drowning in it.  Carrying a bottle of water in your bag or hand was never a problem, and in fact people actually thought highly of you for being so health-conscious.  The last time I went through security, I had a bottle of water stashed away in my carry-on bag.  No, it wasn’t on purpose…I always carry a bottle of water with me…I’m often thirsty.  Upon spotting it on x-ray, the henchman at the end of the conveyer belt opened my bag and removed the water.  He held it up in front of me and asked, “Were you going to tell me about this?”  I answered simply, “no,” but I felt like saying, “Of course I wasn’t going to tell you about that…I was just going to blow up the plane with it.”  Lets take a step back and ask ourselves if it is really necessary to restrict the liquids in our life.  I think we will probably discover that it is not.

3.  Midwest airlines is still the best.  My flights lately have been too early for freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, but that is ok.  When the drink cart came by, I asked for a coffee.  When the flight attendant gave me a cup, I said thank you.  He responded, “NO!  Thank you for being here!”  I’m not sure what that means, but it was nice to encounter an airline employee who doesn’t put off the “i’m serving your drink but I’m also plotting your death/my suicide.”

Thus ends the latest air travel musing.  Cheers.

Vanity of Vanities!

I really love French pressed coffee…a lot!  On those rare mornings that I don’t have to rush out the door, I look forward to actually putting a little work into my coffee instead of simply pushing a button and letting the machine do the rest.  Just today, I thought to myself, “Hey, I should get a larger French press.”  My 8-cupper just isn’t cutting it these days.  So, I went to investigate, and I found an impulse item that far surpasses any other as far as uselessness is concerned…a 4 minute timer made specifically for your French press.

I mean, come on…the only thing this timer will do is count down from 4 minutes and then beep.  Need to set a timer for 4.5 minutes?  Sorry, can’t help you.  I do realize that the entire coffee industry is built around selling you accessories that you don’t really need, ie water filters, special scoops, flavored powders, but this is really getting ridiculous.  Go buy a regular timer that can be used for periods longer or shorter than 4 minutes.  For that matter, use the timer on your microwave.  Purchasing a 4 minute timer for your French press is not unlike purchasing a coffee mug that can only be held with your left hand.  For that matter, it is not unlike purchasing an alarm clock that will only sound at 6:31 am.  I challenge anyone to defend this product to me.  I need a nap.

When Does It End????

I’m not sure if you can make out the picture posted above, but it is indeed a bill for 76 cents. I received it via e-mail this morning from the Theology department at Marquette, where I go to school. As if I don’t give them enough money as it is?  Also, on a side note, I know for a fact that I didn’t make any copies on their machine.  I know this because I don’t even have a billing code.  I might need to talk with someone about this.

Into the Wild

The story of Christopher McCandless is well known by some, but not by most. It is the story of a young man who left behind the comforts of the world in order to pursue a simpler life, one that would ultimately lead to a lonely death. His story is both inspiring and troubling, empowering and horrifying. After graduating from Emory University in 1990, Chris journeyed across the country and ultimately found himself in the remote Alaskan wilderness, where he spent some time living in an abandoned bus. The exact cause of his death is still unknown…some have suggested accidental poisoning while others have maintained that he simply starved.

I attended graduate school at Emory University for three years and, until the day I graduated, I never once heard the story of Christopher McCandless. I was only privy to it that day because Sean Penn filmed pieces of the graduation ceremony for the film that he was making about the events that transpired in the Alaskan wilderness. Had there not been a movie retelling the story, I’m not sure that I would have ever heard it or been forced to think about it.

I watched Into the Wild for the first time last week and, just the other day, I had a discussion about the movie, specifically pertaining to the value it holds, if any at all.  The following post is a reflection on that conversation.

There is something to be said for a person who will abandon the comforts that surround them.  A car, a roof over our heads, a bank account and assurance of our next meal…these are things that we too often take for granted.  Because we fail to see these things as anything other than givens, we often forget the troubles that they can and do bring.  Christopher’s story is inspiring, first of all, because of his refusal to let material goods define who he was.  His family was able and willing to send him to a good school where he was fortunate enough to obtain a good education as well as a degree to prove it.  After graduation, however, he refused to tow the party line that insisted on his finding a job and becoming “successful.”  Instead of seeking material wealth, he donated the contents of his savings account to charity and disappeared.  In the eyes of society, he became the definition of unsuccessful.

After wandering through the country for some time, Christopher found himself in the Alaskan wilderness, living in an abandoned bus and eating off the land.  In a style similar to that of Thoreau, he was learning to live deliberately.  He no longer had the luxury of grocery stores or gas stations, and every action had to be intentional and well-planned.  His solitude prohibited him from blaming anyone for his successes or failures…all responsibility fell on him and him alone.

It is tempting to view the life of Christopher McCandless as an example, one that we should seek to imitate.  Society has much to offer, but if we are not careful it can turn us into people that we should not be.  Many of us are told from a young age that the point of college is to empower you to make money.  Money enables you to buy things.  If you have more money, you can buy more things.  Presumably, when you have more things, you will be a happier person.  Christopher refused to buy into this lie, and instead he ran in the opposite direction.

Does this mean that his life is an example?  I’m going to argue that it does not.  His life is not an example, but that does not mean it cannot be an inspiration.  Moving to the wilderness after cutting ties with family and friends is extreme, but it makes a powerful statement that cannot be ignored.  Our identities do not rest in the things that we acquire or in the money that we make.  The primary goal of education is not to make money, it is form character.  To be a “productive” member of society means that we constantly strive to make our world a better place.  This can only be accomplished through our relationships, a fact that Christopher only realized when it was too late.

We have the benefit of seeing his story from above, from beginning to end.  We see what a life looks like when it is lived alone, and we see where a life as such can lead.  When we view this solitary existence in comparison to a life defined by a lie, we find ourselves in an interesting middle ground.  Material possessions are not evil in themselves, but they can lead us to a selfishness that rivals reclusiveness.  True authentic living requires that we exist in relationship with others, and that we define our lives by those relationships.  There are problems in our society, but these problems will not be solved by moving to the wilderness and abandoning those we love.

The story of Christopher McCandless is as inspiring as it is tragic, and we would do a grave injustice by simply dismissing him as an extremist who has nothing to teach us.  His actions and their outcome teach us that, while society and wealth can destroy us, the same can be said about solitude.  Instead of dismissing “success” or “wealth” as evil, we must learn how to define them responsibly, which involves refusing to be defined by them.  We must learn to view our lives in relation to others and seek to strengthen those relationships in ways that acknowledge the intrinsic value of human existence.

Air Travel, aka Punishment

This past weekend, I was fortunate enough to attend my grandmother’s 90th birthday party. Unfortunately, this required me to spend some time in airports and aboard airplanes. I’m not a fan of either, to tell you the truth, and the only reason I tolerate them is that they generally lead me to a place that I enjoy. The more time I spend in airports, however, the more I realize that the entire institution of air travel is really little more than punishment concealed.

These days, you pay good money for the “privilege” of flying, unless you are fortunate enough to have a ticket purchased with air miles. Even then, you had to spend money to get there. After forking over serious cash, you are expected to be at the airport early, in most cases around 2 hours before you fly. If you are not there on time, they might give your ticket to someone else. If I am going to pay you to bring me somewhere, I would like to not sit in the airport for 2 hours.

The 2 hours spent in the airport is highly conducive to spending more money. There are hoards of people milling about, and like you most of them are waiting for a flight. The noisy crowds give you a headache, which then prompts you to enter one of the many retail establishments and purchase Tylenol. How much does Tylenol cost at the airport? A LOT! And, of course, you cannot take Tylenol without water or food, so you waltz over to a crappy restaurant and purchase a turkey sandwich and water. These three things cost about as much as your ticket.

Lets back up a little bit and spend a little bit of time in the security line. Ever since 9/11, the security employees have had an unquestionable license to be rude to everyone that they encounter. Sure, there are exceptions to this rule, but the majority of these employees treat you as if you just slapped their mother and expect to get away with it. You have to take your computer out of your bag and put it in a separate tray. Then, you must remove your belt, shoes, wallet, keys, change and cell phone. There you stand, in your socks, waiting for the poorly trained guard to call you through the metal detector. Whats that? You forgot to take that quarter out of your pocket? PUT IT IN THE TRAY AND GET BACK IN LINE! I suppose this is a good thing…you don’t want people to take over the plane with their pocket change.

Fast forward a tad and join me on the plane itself. Remember I mentioned the good money that you pay for air travel? Well, lets look at what that buys you. First, you get a seat that would be better suited in a Turkish prison. It is rock hard and it smells of the last person who sat there. Plus, there will be someone next to you who you may or may not like. The likable ones leave you alone. The bad ones talk your ear off for two hours. Luckily, there is food. Oh wait, you have to purchase that. If you don’t want to purchase it, you get pretzels and a soft drink. Then, you have to use the restroom. Oh wait, the fasten seatbelt sign is on, so you must stay seated. God help you and your children if you choose to get up while the seatbelt sign is on.

Air travel in recent years has become somewhat like being sent to your room without dinner. You have to sit relatively still and be quiet for several hours without having dinner. You aren’t allowed to have any toys for some of the flight, and the people put in charge of you act like you are ruining their day. Of course, there are exceptions…Midwest Airlines.

Sweet Irony

As I was driving home from a friend’s house tonight, I passed an interesting billboard.  I’m having trouble remembering its exact wording, but it went something like this:

•  Inclement weather doesn’t cause accidents; distractions do.

It was illustrated with a picture of an attractive young woman talking on her cell phone.  This billboard strikes me as odd for a couple of reasons.  First of all, it seems rather ironic (and counterintuitive) to put up a billboard advertising the reality that distractions cause accidents.  If this is the case, which it is, then the last thing we need is a billboard that takes a driver’s eyes off the road and affixes them to a billboard.  Second, if you are going to cause a distraction for the sake of warning people and thus preventing further distractions that lead to death, don’t do so with an illustration of an attractive woman that is ultimately going to call for more than a brief second of someone’s attention.

Another home run for the department of public safety.