March 25

Are twins overrated?

We are 'celebrating' Diva Week, in case anybody cares. We're not going to get into what qualifies as a diva, although these days, who isn't?

Spring Report

On a cloudy March 16 morning, with the temperature in the low 70s, I decided to check on the progress of the doom-dealing weather system (now with tornadoes!) barreling down on us from the Shenandoah Mountains.

I opened the weather app, and just happened upon sun rise (7:11 am) and set (at 7:10 pm), for 11 hours and 59 minutes of daylight.

'Hm,' I thought. 'I will definitely have to pay attention tomorrow (Tuesday), for the equinox, so I can fully experience the 12/12 split, equal quantities of light and dark, harmony and balance, and there will be a calm moment in an otherwise chaotic and frenzied world.'

So the next morning, with temperature hovering in the mid-thirties, I jumped out of bed at first light (OK, late second light but definitely before third light) to fully experience the magical day. I rushed to the weather app, only to see that the sun had risen again at 7:11, but would set at—7:14.

There would be no vernal equinox this year. Either that, or my weather app was lying to me.

'How am I supposed to achieve equilibrium, balance, calm, and ultimately peace, if Mother Nature isn't even willing to lend a helping hand in so simple a matter?' I fumed.

But I had a more pressing concern. Sometime in the night, I had awakened, much like I used to do on Christmas Eve night when I was expecting Santa. This time, though, I had a stomach-churning thought:

Wait. Tomorrow (or today) is not the first day of spring. That would be March 21. How is the equinox happening now?

But having been burned by the weather app, I thought I should check something more reliable, and so turned to the most reliable source of meteorological information I know, The Old Farmer's Almanac.. There, staring at me in the cold black and white phosphors of my tablet screen, was an article entitled The first day of spring: the vernal equinox.

No, no, that's not right. But then came even more devastating news: the first day of spring was March 20 at 10:46 A.M. EDT.

What is happening? Ever since I was old enough to care, and sit upright in a school desk, kindly nuns had taught me that the first day of spring was March 21. Now my world view lay shattered at my feet, much like Shelly must have felt standing amongst the shards of Ozymandias.

But TOFA was not done with me, relaying the information If you thought that the spring equinox only ever occurred on March 21, you may be dating yourself. The civil calendar date of the equinox continues to shift every year.

Once again, or still,

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.

Battered but not beaten, I resolved to chronicle every moment of the grand transition from winter to spring, to see what if anything changed when we tipped into the next season.

So comes Friday. I began my lookout at 10:30, with a temperature of 53° under sunny skies, winds from the south at 9 mph. One persistent bird who is staking out territory is still staking. I could feel my anticipation and excitement rise as the magic moment approached.

Then: 10:45 53° sunny, 9 mph, bird singing. The oak tree across the street has begun leafing out.

10:46 spring arrives in a blaze of sameness. The world pauses for a split second only to resume its sprint forward to the summer solstice.

10:47 temperature: 53°, sunny, wind speed 9 mph, damn bird still singing. No discernible change to the oak tree across the street.

Spring has safely arrived. My equilibrium is undisturbed, if slightly disappointed.

On the utility of Wisdom.

According to Pearls Before Swine.

Now that's elusive!

The BBC delivers both advice to writers and cleans out the files: 'There's nothing like boredom to make you write:' A rare interview with the elusive Agatha Christie.

If by elusive you mean 'dead for a half-century,' yep, she's elusive.

All together now: A-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha.

Or so we guffaw at the Wall Street Journal, which proclaims in a surprisingly large headline, The point of Retirement? Enlightenment, or at least calm.

No, no, no, no, no. The point of retirement is to buy cheap life and health insurance, worry about malfunctioning or dysfunctioning body parts, play pickleball, buy wrinkle creams and vitamins, and watch old black and white cowboy shows, if we are to believe the TV that old folks watch.

On making choices.

I've mentioned Jeff Goins (many times) before. He's one of my current go-to guys for inspiration, encouragement and cheerleading.

One of his recent articles was called What do you want? A nice simple title atop an article that doesn't exactly answer the question (but really, it's a question that can't be answered) and provides a healthy dose of motivation. You should read.

But I don't want to talk about that. Instead, I want to explore the title-question-that-can't-be-answered—'what do you want?' It's one of those sentences that loses a whole lot of meaning, or flavor, once you transfer it from mouth to paper. The answer depends upon where you put the emphasis. And, spoiler alert, it can go anywhere. To wit:

what do you want?
You can always ask the question with no intonation, like a somewhat bored clerk in a store might do.
what do you want?
Emphasizing 'what' puts the focus on the object of desire. This might be good if the seeker needs help clarifying exactly what it is they want.
what do you want?
A variation on the what emphasis, this suggests that the seeker has been taking a lot of time waffling between choices.
what do you want?
intensifier. The implication is the choice might be to for the desirer to fulfill someone else's wants, like a parent or spouse. But it rally is about fulfilling your own desires.
what do you want?
disdain. as in 'you' is bothering me, or not worthy of having wants fulfilled. 'Go away, you're bothering me.'
what do you want?
specifier. There are many ways to reach the goal, to reach success. What is your path?

Sadness remembered.

A recent article about Justin Theroux in The Wall Street Journal mentioned that, following a conviction at the age of 12, the judge made him write a ten page letter of apology.

He's not alone. How many times has a misbehaving student been punished by having them write 'I will not ________ in class' a hundred times?

I don't know when writing became an accepted form of punishment, or what behavioral change the assigners hoped to effect. I think I had to do it maybe twice, and the only result was having sore fingers from holding the pen. But that pain was minor compared to the punishment.

I like to write. I like to read. I hate to think that there might be creative people out there who turn away from writing because writing was associated with punishment. If they have to write, at least give them something that challenges them, instead of being faced with mindless rote work.

I suspect, though, that this punishment has gone the way of chalk and blackboards. Nowadays, kids would probably use a computer, and even the 25-watt bulbs would type in the required language, copy it, and paste 99 times. Or even better, get the ol' AI out to do the job. This might be something good for AI–mindless busywork. But useful? I say let's have the teacher write 'I will not assign mindless busywork 100 times' to see what utility they see.

word of the week

obstreperous

poetry recent Bonus! augie sez

Quoted.

When I start f---ing things up, it's time
to stop.

--George Saunders on his work process

 

Bonus!

On 'buying' used books.

We have a very nice used book store in town (the Book Exchange. I don't go there much, even though I have at least $35 worth of credit.

There's lots of reasons. Convenience. Erratic catalog. Three or four stacks of 'in-process' books scattered around the house already, which glare at me balefully every time I sit down without picking one of the books off the stack. And sometimes, it's just easier and more reliable to order a book online.

We also have a very nice 'little library' in the neighborhood, and my wife is a regular patron. What she brings home is usually an unintended read, that is, nothing she was looking for. Results are, as you might expect, spotty. Sometimes we're delighted; others, well, as she said, 'That's the worst book I've ever stopped reading.' Not finishing a book was criminal activity when I was growing up.

But for destination used books, we turn to Amazon. Usually the desired title is out of print, or there's some reason we go the used route. It's a strange world, used-book land. Sometimes a used paperback costs more than when the book is new, or softbound costs more than hardbound. Sometimes you'll see a vendor hawking a paperbound romance for ten times the original price, or twenty times what other sellers are asking. No reason, just 'cuz.

But that's for another time. Once, I would never pick up a used copy if a new one was available. But now, I'm more likely to go for the used book. Not because of price, but because it puts me in a community, a group of anonymous people who have also experienced this book. Did they like it? Hate it? Have the same reaction you're having? Write a review? Loan it to a friend? Reread it?

Once upon a time, if I was forced to acquire a used book, I would try to get as 'most like new' copy as I could. Mostly, I found that if it was marked, I wouldn't agree with the previous readers' assessment. Now, I almost look forward to comments left by a previous companion through the book. They're still often wrong, but that's OK.

Some of the books I've bought from Amazon or an affiliate bookseller have been library books are 'withdrawn' or, as one of the library books we have quaintly has it, 'This book no longer property of Queens Library.' Sometimes these withdrawn volumes have little pockets in the back that held the book's checkout card. When the book was checked out, the card was stamped and filed. The pocket was also stamped with the return date. It's fun to think about the people who checked out the book, whether they enjoyed it, had to renew it, why they picked it in the first place, and so on.

This sense of community does not extend to e-books, when you know they are used books and you can see that 537 other people have acquired these books, and have in some places left comments. I don't know why that is.

Anyway, as I read my used books, I'm enjoying this new sense of community, no matter how ghostly and quiet the earlier readers may be.