My story that names the collection I hope to finish this year. You can find it on Liminal!
This story began with a classroom assignment I gave to my students. It was to be very short, but I revised and revised, it became very long, and then was cut back according to the recommendation of two of my best readers.
In a two-year-old article, Ann Patchett explains that as a teenager she did not consider cream soup spoons essential when she bought sterling flatware as a 14-year old. I do. I will say that I already gave away all the family silver and have bought only odd pieces which I intend to use daily in the new year—using her sterling was something my grandfather’s third wife, Genevieve, did too. Patchett wonders what to do with her dozen champagne flutes that will never find a dozen people wanting champagne, but we have kept fourteen flutes purchased over the years on anniversaries. Though we have no better idea when or if they might be used, they line a high shelf and give me pleasure every time I take down a plain water glass. Throw them on a beach after I die.
Years ago, a friend visiting from Colorado became impatient with our talk of high and low tides. “What does that even mean?” she cried. So I took her out at high tide and showed her the width of dry shore and the location of breakers relative to the cape. Six hours later I took her out again and showed her the difference. I have something to say about that term “king tide” and tides and sneaker waves.
“56% of U.S. survey respondents would prefer to receive tickets to a live experience rather than more stuff. Women in particular prefer experiences over physical gifts. So, wrap up those tickets, and give the gift of making memories.”
—according to Eventbrite (a ticketing venue)
We invited people in the building for a visit and had a lovely time. It gave me an excuse to bake cakes and shortbread, but talk was the major event. It was so good to sit down and have a conversation with our interesting and talented neighbors.
Continue readingThis is a 2016 post from my old college class blog:
I said [That is, me, Jan Priddy] the first few paragraphs of this op-ed twenty-seven times to you, one at a time. It took me four days of conferences to explain to each of you that the papers you are currently writing are not about proving how right you are, but about reviewing several reasonable and sincere concerns and finding a solution that is about doing the right thing, not finding a hero or taking sides.
We live in a big, diverse society. There are essentially two ways to maintain order and get things done in such a society — politics or some form of dictatorship. Either through compromise or brute force. Our founding fathers chose politics.
Politics is an activity in which you recognize the simultaneous existence of different groups, interests and opinions. You try to find some way to balance or reconcile or compromise those interests, or at least a majority of them. You follow a set of rules, enshrined in a constitution or in custom, to help you reach these compromises in a way everybody considers legitimate.
The downside of politics is that people never really get everything they want. It’s messy, limited and no issue is ever really settled. Politics is a muddled activity in which people have to recognize restraints and settle for less than they want. Disappointment is normal.
But that’s sort of the beauty of politics, too. It involves an endless conversation in which we learn about other people and see things from their vantage point and try to balance their needs against our own. Plus, it’s better than the alternative: rule by some authoritarian tyrant who tries to govern by clobbering everyone in his way.
As Bernard Crick wrote in his book, “In Defence of Politics,” “Politics is a way of ruling divided societies without undue violence.”
Over the past generation we have seen the rise of a group of people who are against politics. These groups — best exemplified by the Tea Party but not exclusive to the right — want to elect people who have no political experience. They want “outsiders.” They delegitimize compromise and deal-making. They’re willing to trample the customs and rules that give legitimacy to legislative decision-making if it helps them gain power.
Ultimately, they don’t recognize other people. They suffer from a form of political narcissism, in which they don’t accept the legitimacy of other interests and opinions. They don’t recognize restraints. They want total victories for themselves and their doctrine.
This antipolitics tendency has had a wretched effect on our democracy. It has led to a series of overlapping downward spirals:
The antipolitics people elect legislators who have no political skills or experience. That incompetence leads to dysfunctional government, which leads to more disgust with government, which leads to a demand for even more outsiders.
The antipolitics people don’t accept that politics is a limited activity. They make soaring promises and raise ridiculous expectations. When those expectations are not met, voters grow cynical and, disgusted, turn even further in the direction of antipolitics.
The antipolitics people refuse compromise and so block the legislative process. The absence of accomplishment destroys public trust. The decline in trust makes deal-making harder.
We’re now at a point where the Senate says it won’t even hold hearings on a presidential Supreme Court nominee, in clear defiance of custom and the Constitution. We’re now at a point in which politicians live in fear if they try to compromise and legislate. We’re now at a point in which normal political conversation has broken down. People feel unheard, which makes them shout even louder, which further destroys conversation…
—“The Governing Cancer of Our Time” by David Brooks, FEB. 26, 2016 in The New York Times
Nearly eight years ago. And, mind you, David Brooks is a Republican. (This is why Obama was not able to put a centrist on the Supreme Court and why we got that sniveling whiner instead nominated by Trump. Brooks doesn’t mention McConnell who really ramped up the crazy. Even McConnell must be sorry about this by now.) Brooks was scared even before the election. Is this a little scary, given what is happening in Congress today? It should be making us all worried.
I left my first job at Taco Bell on Aurora Avenue North in 1970 because my boss said the people shot at Kent State got what they deserved. My second job was at DJ’s Sound City at Northgate in Seattle but my boss had an eye for another employee and when the business began to fail, she was the only one not laid off. In 1972, the University of Washington’s University Book Store hired me for the Music Department, a job for which I was eminently unqualified. Think bins of LPs and a scattering of cassettes tapes—that long ago. I would work there for most of the next four years while completing two studio art degrees. Despite having abandoned guitar, I learned a lot about music during those years.
And I met an old woman named Florence.
What I’ve been doing, what I haven’t been doing, what I wished would happen.
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