On Ken Burns and Hemingway (4/24/2021)

I watched Ken Burns’ special on Ernest Hemingway. I found it interesting. But boy, being a member of Unitarian community; however, it was a different story. Unitarians are notoriously more liberated, forward thinking, more liberal thinking, feminist folks; and a lot of them saw the documentary as an acknowledgement of a man who was a drinker, womanizer, into bull fighting, and racist. In other words, he was an example of anything that was wrong with a man. However, from what I saw he was a reflection of the time he was living in.

I do not want to defend Hemingway. In fact, I have only read one of his books, his “Old Man and the Sea” which I really enjoyed. I need to read more. I found Mr. Burns' documentary eye opening. A man with his struggles. A man who was in a way tormented by his parents, a thing I can understand. Mine were not the easiest ones. Hemingway was someone who was disciplined or maybe tried to be disciplined, in his writing but had to let loose when he did not write, usually in the afternoon, evenings or when he had writer’s block of some kind.

I did not watch it thinking what a misogynistic guy Hemingway must have been, falling in love with all these younger women that he ran in to. Hell, I think I could as well, if I were someone rich, famous, and decent looking, because I think those are some the prerequisites of being attractive as an older male to younger women. But as an older male, I know, there are some young women who just walk past me to whom I feel an instant attraction. I know it is their odor. Not perfume or cologne, but as I explain to myself: the smell of a woman, of fertility, of ovulation, receptiveness. I wonder if that was the thing that handcuffed Hemingway. I just miss the swagger he must have had, the fame.

No, the documentary grabbed my attention because of a number of other things. As I mentioned before, the rise and the fall of a person. How this outwardly manly man had a feminine, maybe even subordinate side in his relationship with his wife. The development of a writer was spellbinding to me; maybe because I still aspire to become one, hence this blog. But here again, I am likely over the hill and missed the boat; no “Old man and a boat or the sea” for me, I guess. However, I was also fascinated by the places Hemingway visited and lived. This was partially because our lives, my younger one and his, overlapped at times and in certain places.

Let’s start at my beginning. Some of you may know that I was born in Eastern Congo. I have written about it a time or two. You all can search the keyword list, there are two mentions (three with this one). In her book “How Dare the Sun Rise” Sandra Uwiringiyimana describes growing up not far from where I was born, but then takes it on a very intense ride as refuge (I briefly mention it here). When I was one and a half years old, my parents and I traveled back to Holland. We did this by taking the ferry across Lake Tanzania, into Tanzania, and the train to Dodoma, and (I think) on to Arusha. From either Dodoma or Arusha, we had to take a taxi to Nairobi to catch an airplane to the Netherlands. My mother always loved to tell me that when we arrived after dark in Nairobi, no hotel was willing to take us in, and no we did not need to sleep in a stable, but we ended up sleeping that night at the YMCA on army cods. The reason was we drove that day, afternoon and evening through an area that was in the hands or infested by the Mau Mau. The Mau Mau were the freedom fighters against the British colonial rule, and at the time they were known to be as one of the most ruthless group of guerillas known to mankind. No one understood how we had come through the area in one piece, especially at night! We (my parents) were basically suspected of being Mau Mau sympathizers. Now from Ken Burns I learned that at the time of our crossing (1954/55) there was a famous American author in the area: Ernest Hemingway! He actually married a local young tribal woman, while was wife was ill and convalescing in Nairobi.

I was born in Kalemie (previously Albertville) in the Congo.  Dodoma the place we took the train to is on the far right on the map.  

After a brief period in Holland and Belgium, we moved to the Caribbean, where I spent my youth. I lived there 13 years. We did some deep-sea fishing, boating, sailing. I even visited Cuba, probably after Hemingway left. It was in 1959, a few months after Castro had taken over. I visited the far eastern coast, and we went up the tallest mountain of Cuba and we visited Havana. Being only 6 years old, I still remember being cold on top of the mountain (9000+ feet) and that Havana looked almost deserted and eerily empty.

But Mr. Burns’ stories about Havana, the sea, Kenya where I returned in the late 1970s, the tropics in general and the stories about Hemingway were fascinating and brought me back to the stories of my youth. Together with stories of Hemingway’s tormented life, I therefore had no problem looking past the not-so nice parts of his character and forgiving him for his flaws or enjoying the series.

The After Life (4/9/2021)

It has been a little over a year now that all hell broke loose. The now so dreaded Corona virus. We thought it would be a few months when we were told to shelter in place, but here we are, vaccinated and still teleworking, masked when we go out, forever changed. If there ever was a time that we lost our innocence it was this past year.

I read an article in the New York Times on where we to go now: post pandemic. My question is whether we are currently really post pandemic. The Spanish Flue took two years to resolve. Variants are popping up all over the place. However, it really made me think what this year did to me personally, in my relationships with others and in my outlook to the future.

I am happy to report that no one in my direct circle has died of COVID. I know of a few who have contracted the disease. A close friend Chuck who told me he and his wife got it between Christmas and New Year. A colleague of mine got it too. Her husband brought it with him when he visited his father in South Carolina. Thank goodness both just lost their taste and got sick and tired. Unlike with some, their only long-lasting effect seemed to have been the loss of taste and smell. I did hear of friends of friends whose relatives died of COVID, but none too close to me.

How did I change over this past year? For those of you who have been following me, 2020 has been my least productive blog year since I started this blog in 2013. Was I hoping to ever becoming an influencer (reviewing Virginia wineries, breweries, scenic areas, giving lectures and talks), making money and retiring on easy street with this blog? That hope evaporated last year. Only 19 posts, not as many hits as I would hope, and as I mentioned before, I would first need to allow advertising on my blog, something I never have.

So what was the reason? COVID depression? I do not think so; I became more introspective during that year of self-isolation. I tried to stay away from politics although it was difficult especially during an election year, after the killing of George Floyd, and with a virus and election denier like the former occupant of the Whitehouse in power. Not being originally from the U.S. and socially conscious, I ate this all up, but again, I tried not to bore too many of you all with my political views. The result, only 19 posts. Just before Christmas last year, I promised I would write more. However, guess how many post I wrote in March this year. Zero!

What happened the year of COVID and will it change me forever? I really threw myself back on my bonsai hobby. I did not watch more T.V.; I did a little more reading. I still have not finished the book “Overstory”; I pick it up, read it and put it down. I love it, but it is depressing at the same time. I did read the book “Rage” by Bob Woodward. Assuming it was well researched, I found it eye opening, well written and it basically enforced all my political views.

I watched bonsai YouTube channels, almost every evening. COVID depression, right? Alternatively, was it bonsai depression? No such thing, bonsai for me is very important nowadays. Currently, my bonsai trees are my form of therapy or meditation. I walk by my trees at least two or three times a day, examine them closely, and watch the progress. That tree has put out another leaf, oh look what is happening here or there. I am in love with this tree or that one! Finally, after a year of isolation with YouTube and my trees, I finally have the audacity to think that I can design a credible bonsai, know how to take care of them, and to advice someone when they ask a bonsai question on Facebook. This is quite the accomplishment after 33 years of dabbling in the hobby and studying it even longer than that.

I built this bench this past summer and I think I still do not have enough room for my trees.  In the foreground is a privet that I transplanted into this training pot this year.

How else have I changed, or how will I go on post COVID, if there is such a thing? I think I will value my friends more, and ignore those who do not agree with me. Value nature and the environment. I still remember so well how clean and clear the air was in May and June last year when there were so many fewer cars on the road. My wife still hopes I am kidding when I tell her that my next car will be a Tesla or maybe some other electric vehicle. She is a huge environmentalist as well; however, still a bit skeptical about electric vehicles, their range and their capabilities.

For the rest, I need to take care of myself, mentally and physically. During the past year, I lost approximately 10 lbs. This is still not enough in my eyes. I would like to lose another 10. Somehow, I have plateaued (or is it bottomed out?). Walking on average 80,000 steps or more per week according to my Fitbit, appears not to be enough. I need to do more, live healthier. The husband of a friend was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the uncle of my wife recently died at the age of 76, and a dear neighbor was found dead on his doorsteps, a heart attack in his late 70s. All too young; I have this fear that the day I retire I will die of some weird disease or get diagnosed with cancer and have weeks or months to live. Never able to enjoy the fruits of my long (illustrious?) career. In other words, retirement is on my mind. As you know, my last post mentions how much I enjoy my job, teaching and retirement weighs heavy on me. Oh well, hopefully I am not damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

John Dewey, teaching and changing the world (4/7/2021)

As I inform you in some of my posts I am or better, I used to be, part of a sermon writing group in my UU church. I say used to since because of COVID, we have not met in a year. However, some time ago group members asked me to continue to develop my previous post entitled “I love to change the world" into my next sermon. I had written it as part of an exercise and my follow participants thought it would make a great motivational type of sermon. Who am I to quibble with them and I started looking for a direction to take it. Should I take it into the purpose of life; purposefully living; having a goal after retirement; or what?

Looking online, you cannot avoid hitting philosophy when you start investigating such “lofty” subjects as existentialism, Plato, Socrates, Kant, Nietzsche, Emmerson, Sartre, Camus, you name it. Then I hit a name that I was not familiar with John Dewey.

Dewey lived from 1859 to 1952. Mr. Dewey was a professor of education and philosophy (or the other way around), but you get the messages. He was an atheist, very liberal, a believer that education was the solution to a lot of issues facing the world, and a very strong proponent of the women’s suffrage movement. Right up my alley.

What impressed me about Dewey was his educational philosophy. He suggested that “the purpose of education should not revolve around the acquisition of a pre-determined set of skills, but rather the realization of one's full potential and the ability to use those skills for the greater good.” This reminds me so much of my graduate studies in the late 1980s and my own teaching philosophy.

When I entered New Mexico State University for my Ph.D. study I befriended a very interesting set of characters; a few will always stay with me at least in my mind; although, I have regretfully lost contact with all of them. Foremost was Daniel Manuchia, or Manuch as I used to call him. Manuch was a fellow graduate student and he and I often discussed exactly this philosophy of Dewey with each other, while we both had never discussed him by name. I don’t think we even knew of him. We had a few fellow grad students who were all into grades and grade point average and in acquiring those “pre-determined skills,” but not really learning anything about life and living. I came to grad school after 6 years of working overseas and running ins with some savory characters. Daniel had much bigger plans in life as an entrepreneur and innovator. As a result, he and I were always making fun of the other students and wondering where these grade point junkies would end up in life. We had fun doing research that was not related to our studies or discussing various plans.

It was during my grad studies that I could finally start thinking about my hobby of growing bonsai.  Manuch was managing a couple of greenhouses for the university and was growing seedlings for McDonalds (the burger place) to be distributed during Earth day (this was his idea that he marketed to the company ... my wife designed the marketing materials for him).  Manuch had grown Siberian elms and this is one of the three that he had grown in 1988 and given to me as seedlings.  This picture is from earlier this year (33 years old now) when it started flushing out.

Another was Reinhard Laubenbacher, a mathematics professor at the university. He rode a Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle, lived very minimalistic, and prided himself on doing research that was worthless to the defense industry. We often would have him over for dinner and talk about life, philosophy and politics over wine until 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning. Reinhard was another guy who was more interested in learning to live and enjoying life, rather than those “pre-determined” skills. He had a very interesting girlfriend Gene, who had somewhat of a similar outlook on life.

Alison Hill is the final person we were close to and also lost contact with. She already had a lot of life experience, maybe too much. We became close friends which lasted a long time, and I never really know what happened. All I know she too was more interested in living than her grade point average.

The other cast of characters were mostly political animals. Some were back biters, trying to get ahead, trying to make sure that their careers (in academia) were assured. Folks trying to do extra-curricular activities just to get noticed or get it on a resume. I am not sure if they ever learned to live.

During my career now 30 years later, I regret that we lost touch with Manuch, Reinhard and Allison. Subconsciously, I have followed Dewey’s advice and tried to learn to live. As an instructor I practice this as well. Dewey argues that the classroom teacher does not have to be a scholar in all subjects; but that she or he should exhibit a genuine love in the one subject the person is teaching. This should result in the feeling that students have that they are receiving genuine information and as a result they gain a better insight in all subjects taught. Dewey says it best when he writes: "teacher ought not to strive to be a high-class scholar in all the subjects he or she has to teach," rather, "a teacher ought to have an unusual love and aptitude in some one subject: history, mathematics, literature, science, a fine art, or whatever."

To end this essay, this was something Manuch and I frequently spoke about and something I found back in Dewey’ writing. Interesting how something like this brings me back 30 years ago. According to Dewey, this propensity and passion for intellectual growth in the education profession (my intellectual friends and I thought any profession) must be accompanied by a natural desire to communicate one's knowledge with others. "There are scholars who have [the knowledge] in a marked degree but who lack enthusiasm for imparting it. To the 'natural born' teacher learning is incomplete unless it is shared" he writes. As an educator I agree with Dewey when he concludes that it is not enough for the classroom teacher to be a lifelong learner of the techniques and subject-matter of education; she/he must aspire to share what she/he knows with others in her/his learning community. That is what I try to do every time I teach.

My wife sometimes jokes with me that I lecture too much or see everything as a teaching moment. Maybe that is my calling and maybe it will remain my calling until I die. Coming back to my previous post, maybe that is the best way I can contribute to changing the world.