Headline Leads Local Man to Blogging

I found an article on Yahoo! News about a study done on intelligence and vegetarianism with the following headline: “Kids with High IQ’s Grow up to be Vegetarians”. The headline bothered me immediately because it is such a blanket statement. So, all kids with high IQ’s become vegetarians? How about: “Kids with High IQ’s More Likely to be Vegetarians”? That would at least be less-misleading coming out of the gate.

Beyond the headline, though, the article itself has flaws. It assumes that the only cause of becoming a vegetarian is having a high IQ. It completely ignores any social factors that might have something to do with it. Perhaps it isn’t the IQ, but what the IQ provides, namely, income. If you have a high IQ you are more likely to go to college and get a good job. This gives you more money to spend on food. Being a vegetarian, and doing it right, is more expensive than eating meat, especially if you’re a vegan.

However, even if you don’t agree with my assessment above, the article itself goes on to say that there are many questions left unanswered by the study leading Lona Sandon, an assistant professor of clinical nutrition at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center at Dallas to conclude that "we cannot draw any solid conclusions from this research.”

In that case, why is this even news? It wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for the headline. The study had to be spun so that it was seen as a direct link, otherwise all it says is, “some folks with high IQ’s are vegetarians.” Great.

Generally I think people understand to take headlines with a grain of salt, but this headline is just plain false. Editors are busy folks, but there should be more care taken when composing headlines.

Update

Today's Best of the Web had this to say regarding the article:

A new study shows that smart people are more likely to be vegetarians, reports HealthDay. But it turns out there's a catch:

"Children who scored higher on IQ tests at age 10 were more likely than those who got lower scores to report that they were vegetarian at the age of 30," Gale said.

The researchers found that 4.5 percent of participants were vegetarians. Of these, 2.5 percent were vegan, and 33.6 percent said they were vegetarian but also ate fish or chicken.

There was no difference in IQ score between strict vegetarians and those who said they were vegetarian but who said they ate fish or chicken, the researchers add.

Luckily for them, the definition of vegetarian wasn't on the test!

Anne Frank's Tree

The chestnut tree that stands outside what was the only non-covered window in the attic where Anne Frank was in hiding for 25 months, is scheduled to be cut down. The tree has stood for 150 years, but has become the victim of a tree fungus, which has overtaken it.

As this article mentions, the tree made several appearances in the diary and served as a source of inspiration and beauty in what was a very limited existence. On February 23, 1944 she wrote:

"Nearly every morning I go to the attic to blow the stuffy air out of my lungs. From my favorite spot on the floor I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree, on whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver, and at the seagulls and other birds as they glide on the wind...."

And on May 13, 1944 she wrote:

“Our chestnut tree is in full blossom. It is covered with leaves and is even more beautiful than last year...”

While it is sad the tree must be taken down, it will live on in memory and on the net. There is a memorial to the tree here and until it is removed you can catch one last glimpse at the live webcam they have focused on the tree here.

It’s amazing that this tree has become such a source of inspiration to others. I had my own “man on the train” kind of moment while reading about it. We can never understand truly what it meant to Anne, but I think we all can identify with the idea of having something that would appear ordinary and meaningless to someone else, but with which we associate so much. There’s an old saying about the little things making life worth living, and there is a lot of truth to that. Anne found solace in the peace and majesty of the tree outside her window. It served a great purpose there for her and I’m happy that it existed.

Ars Poetica

The other night I read the introduction to the most recent book of poems edited by Garrison Keillor, Good Poems for Hard Times, which just recently came out in paperback. This is the follow up to Good Poems (which is an excellent place to start if you want a good collection of poetry). In the introduction for his new book, Keillor writes:

"A poem is not a puzzle that you the dutiful reader are obliged to solve. It is meant to poke you, get you to buck up, pay attention, rise and shine, look alive, get a grip, get the picture, pull up your socks, wake up and die right."

I think this description hits the nail on the head. Poetry has become to so many people that boring thing they had to study in school, or that thing they just don't get. It's true that a lot of poetry is lofty and inaccessible, and it has its place, but there is so much powerful, beautiful, heart breaking, fist pounding poetry that makes you yell, "Yes! That is how it is!" Does that phrase sound familiar? It should, it's in the quote at the top of my blog, which is precisely what Keillor is saying here. Poetry is one of the most pure forms of communication. Its beauty lies in the fact that a reader from another place and even another time can pick up a poem and read it and feel the connection of humanity. This is its purpose, and it's a shame that has gotten lost in academic speak and post-modern criticism. Don't worry, though, there is good stuff out there, you just have to find it.

The Future of Humanity: Coffee Colored Giants

Recently the television network Bravo commissioned Dr. Oliver Curry to predict the evolutionary changes in humanity over the next 1000, 10,000, and 100,000 years. You can read more about it here and here. After reading through his findings it makes me wonder, how do I get on the list to be commissioned for lame studies?

Anyway, it is kind of funny, so I’ll elaborate. In 1000 years time, according to Curry, we will all be taller, as tall as 7 feet on average, more attractive, and “coffee colored” as we will have lost all aspects of distinctive races through interbreeding. I guess the modeling industry will have no short supply of eligible candidates, but I do feel sorry for the beauty products industry because women will apparently all already have glossy hair and smooth skin.

By the year 12,000 we will all have lost almost all our ability to socialize or communicate well because of technology. Emotions such as love, sympathy, and trust will all cease to exist. This in turn will lead to the collapse of the greeting card industry, and the end to made up holidays. No wonder we don’t socialize anymore. Also the flower shops will suffer: “Sure, I’d have bought you flowers, honey, but the thing is, love doesn’t exist as an emotion anymore, so, sorry!” Oh, and we’ll also have receding chins because processed foods will require less chewing. Less chewing…I guess the future is looking brighter after all.

Finally, 100,000 years from now, we will have developed into two distinctly different sub species. According to the BBC article: “The descendants of the genetic upper class would be tall, slim, healthy, attractive, intelligent, and creative and a far cry from the ‘underclass’ humans who would have evolved into dim-witted, ugly, squat goblin-like creatures.” All I can say is that I’m looking forward to the movie about the goblin revolt in the year 104,562. I’m sure it will win Best Picture at the Intergalactic Academy Awards, unless the academy votes for the remake of “Titanic”. Man, wouldn’t that be a shame. The Goblin community could really use the boost.

Lost in Translation

I work for a company that manufactures and imports seasonal items that are then sold to retailers here in the US. We have an office in Taiwan and another office and a factory in China. We have daily email correspondence with both offices and while the English of the folks on the other end is very good, much better than I would ever do trying to communicate in Putonghua (yes, I realize how pretentious it is to use the official name instead of just “Chinese”); there are still some amusing translational missteps that occur.

Most of the time it is because of an alternate wording of a common phrase. One such incident occurred when it had come to the time of year when the customer was deciding what to buy for the next season. The factory obviously was becoming impatient when they sent over this line in the email: “please advise what color customer will decide finally on earth.” Sometimes, however, the final design of a product is left up to us, and we try many different options to decide which is the best to show the customer. During one of these design periods the factory inquired if they “could select and select till we are satisfactory?” It’s not all business, though, especially around holiday time warm pleasantries are exchanged. For example, last Christmas the email finished with a very nice salutation: “The Christmas is coming, Merry Christmas!”

Other times, humor comes not from the usage, but because an archaic term is used instead of a more standard one. I suppose their Chinese-to-English dictionary is a bit out of date since once they came up with: “please give us evincive information.” The usage here is actually correct, but evincive hasn’t been used much since the early 1900's.

Sometimes there isn’t any real logical reason for the misstep and what comes back is just funny. We asked the factory once to provide us with official scientific data on what would happen if a particular grill cover we were working on was left out in the sun. Product testing is a very common practice and all the retailers require it, so many times we like to do this ourselves in order to present the customer with results right from the start. Well, this time our scientific report came in and revealed the final result of the testing, nicely typed on official letterhead, of what would happen if the cover was left out in the sun. The page simply read: “it smell stink”.

My all time favorite example, however, came in an email one morning. We had been waiting on pricing information for an item and were expecting it that day. We knew we would have to wait a little longer, though, once we received this explanation: “the man who is in charge of quotation is overdrink this afternoon.” This is not only funny on several levels, but also gives some insight into Chinese linguistics. The word for “drunk” in Chinese is the character for “over” and the character for “drink”. More than this, though, I think the reason this is my favorite is because of how much I can identify with the guy. There have certainly been days where I (and I’m sure most of you who have worked in an office could agree) would have liked nothing more than to take off after lunch to go out and get good and overdrink. It’s nice to know that despite the language difference we still have a good bit in common with our friends in the Far East.

Writer's Almanac

The short biography below was copied straight from today’s Writer’s Almanac (the Garrison Keillor radio program). You can also subscribe to it and receive a poem and literary notes in your inbox every morning, which is a great way to start the day. Anyway, I typically like to add some commentary to the direct quotations I publish here, but this stands on its own. It’s quite heartening to read of people who struggle and succeed. I love the quote by Sebold at the end of this. I hope it inspires you today:

It's the birthday of the novelist Alice Sebold born in Madison, Wisconsin (1963). She grew up wanting to be a writer, and went to Syracuse University, where some of the best writers in America were teaching, including Raymond Carver and Tobias Wolff. But one night during her freshman year of college, Sebold was walking home when she was attacked, dragged into an underground tunnel, and raped. She thought that she was going to be murdered. When she later talked to the police, they said that a girl had recently been murdered in that same tunnel, and so she should consider herself lucky for having survived.

A few weeks later, Sebold spotted the rapist on the street, and she went to the police. He was arrested, and Sebold testified against him at trial. She was subjected to a brutal cross-examination by the defense attorney, and police later said that she was one of the best rape witnesses they had ever seen on the stand. The rapist was convicted and received the maximum sentence.

Sebold thought that the end of the trial would put the experience behind her, but for the next fifteen years she struggled to have relationships with other people, and she struggled to write. She tried going to graduate school and dropped out. She moved to New York and started drinking a lot and dabbling in drugs.

She decided a change of scenery might help, so she moved to California, and got a job as a caretaker of an arts colony, where she lived in a cabin without electricity, reading and writing at night by propane light. In the back of her mind she'd always thought about what those policeman had said to her about that other girl who had been murdered in that same tunnel. One day, Sebold sat down at her desk and began writing a story in the voice of a teenage girl who has been murdered, and in one sitting she wrote the entire opening of what would become her novel The Lovely Bones, about a murdered fourteen-year-old girl looking down from heaven as her family tries to recover from the grief of her death.

Sebold's agent had a hard time selling the novel, since most publishers were wary about a book narrated by a dead girl. But it was eventually picked up by Little, Brown, and it became a word-of-mouth sensation among booksellers and critics before it was even published. It came out in June of 2002, a few months before Sebold's thirty-ninth birthday. It sold more than 2 million copies, becoming the best-selling book in 2002.

Sebold has said in interviews that she was as surprised by the book's success as anyone. She said, "It's very weird to succeed at thirty-nine years old and realize that in the midst of your failure, you were slowly building the life that you wanted anyway."

A Commuter's Dream

It came true for Dan Ruefly last night. A contest was held to see who had the worst commute story over the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, which spans the Potomac River between Maryland and Virginia. The winner got to detonate the bridge. Well, not directly, he pushed down a plunger that gave the signal for the demolition crew to do their work, but close enough, right? Ruefly’s winning commute was crashing into a tractor trailer and then having to wait in the back of the ambulance as it sat in traffic, unable to get to the hospital. My favorite runner up story: Stuart Roy was driving along the bridge when a landscaping truck going the opposite way hit a bump and sent a pitchfork flying through the air and into his windshield. Now that’s a bad commute.

You can read more in this article. I love the fact that despite the authorities' best efforts, people still showed up with chants of “Blow it up!” to watch the bridge be destroyed. I can understand. It’s one of those moments that doesn’t come very often…the chance to exact revenge on a headache causing inanimate object. I’m glad that Mr. Ruefly was able to get his last night.

On Atlanta

This is a quote I stumbled across a while back by W.E.B. Du Bois from his book The Souls of Black Folks. I really love the way he portrays Atlanta. Anyone that works in the city, think of this tomorrow morning on your way to work:

"South of the North, yet north of the South, lies the City of a Hundred Hills, peering out from the shadows of the past into the promise of the future. I have seen her in the morning, when the first flush of day had half-roused her; she lay gray and still on the crimson soil of Georgia; then the blue smoke began to curl from her chimneys, the tinkle of the bell and scream of whistle broke the silence, the rattle and roar of busy life slowly gathered and swelled, until the seething whirl of the city seemed a strange thing in a sleepy land."

The "The" Phenomenon

I was waiting patiently in line to order my combo #1, value size, when I overheard what on the surface would appear to be a normal exchange, but when looked at deeper yields enough insight for...well, at least for a blog post. The woman next to me said plainly, "I'd like a salad with the ranch". "A salad with the ranch dressing?" the cashier repeated. "Yes," nodded the customer. As my title mentions, I call this the "The" phenomenon.

What exactly is it? It is the use of the article "the" on nouns that typically do not require the specificity that the article gives. While not grammatically incorrect, it is noticeable when used. In many cases this happens with people where English is not their first language, but it has also been known to happen with many a worried suburban parent when directing the challenge, with furrowed brow and intent stare, "have you been smoking the pot?"

What I find amusing about this is that the noun being given such importance usually does not deserve it, and when it does it is funny for precisely this reason. The woman in the Chik-fil-a was extremely excited about her ranch dressing. So much so that she used "the" to elevate it to a higher plane (at least I like to think it was intentional). This was no longer any other plastic container of mass produced ranch dressing, this was The Ranch Dressing. I half expected there to be an echo and a symphonic crescendo accompanying it.

I think we should make more of an effort to realize the "the" phenomenon in our day to day life. It makes life interesting and adds importance to otherwise trivial occurrences. So the next time a waiter asks what you would like to drink, answer, "I'd like the Coke, please". No one else may even notice, but I bet that Coke will be the best you've ever had. After all, it was The Coke. Oh, and after the waiter drops it off, be sure to tell him the thank you.

About Service

I just finished watching the Movie About Schmidt. I have seen it several times before and always enjoyed it, and it is one of those movies that touches you each time you see it. It truly is a brilliant comment on our world and our place in it. The story follows the life of retired Warren Schmidt and the struggles he faces after retirement, losing his wife, and watching his daughter marry a man that he feels is not good enough for her. At the end of the movie there is a monologue where he ponders his life and comes to the conclusion that it is meaningless because he has touched no one. He tried to live a life the "right" way, only to find that he left the important things out. At the beginning of the movie he decides to sponsor a poor child in Tanzania. Most of the information we find out about Warren's inner life is narrated through letters he writes to the child, Ndugu, and most of the humor comes from his self absorption and ignorance. At the end of the movie he receives a letter back from the nun who is caring for the child and a drawing of two people holding hands done by Ndugu. He begins to cry, having received far more from the child than the $22 a month he sent to help.

This reminded me of a quote sent to me by a friend some time back by Oscar Romero:

"We should not feel superior when we help anyone. Those who give materially receive spiritually. There is an exchange of property that is understood only in a true spirit of poverty, which makes the rich feel they are close brothers and sisters of the poor, and makes the poor feel they are equal givers and not inferior to the rich. The giving is mutual, 'that there may be equality,' as St. Paul says."

I truly feel that when we practice service and give of ourselves to someone else we do receive as much if not far more from the person we are serving than they receive from us. It's easy to watch the movie and feel a certain bitterness towards Warren, and justifiably so in a sense, because he doesn't seem to realize how much he does have in relation to the boy he is sponsoring in Africa. I think it's important to remember, though, as I discussed with another friend this weekend, that suffering is relative. We all, in our own place, have our hardships, and it is wrong to feel that one's sufferings are invalid because they are seemingly so much less than another's. We are all struggling to make it the best way we can and should be sympathetic to those around us. I think if we all could practice some sort of service to those around us we would all benefit from the act. The good done through the service is just icing on the cake.

A Free Bench

"We spend our life trying to bring together in the same instant a ray of sunshine and a free bench." ~Samuel Beckett from Texts for Nothing

Every so often you run across a quote that so captures a feeling or idea that it lingers with you for years to come. It hangs in the air like a long extinguished cigarette and when you think you've forgotten it, the scent surprises you with its strength.

This quote from Beckett captures the human condition better than just about any I've read. The beauty of the quote is that it can be seen differently depending on where you're coming from. If things are going well for you, then you can see your free bench, you feel the hardness of the wood, you hear the creak of the planks. You know the feeling of the sunlight: the warmth and the patterns it makes on your closed eyelids. Whatever that "thing" is, you've found it and the last thing you want to think about is its fleeting nature. Philosophy, religion, theories of life and good living; what do they mean now? You're resting, you're warm, you don't want to be disturbed.

However, when "reality" sets in, when you find yourself in a rut or the burdens of day to day living are weighing heavy, then this image becomes an ephemeral one. It's something out of movies or books, not something that actually happens. You feel the ache for what you know could be if you could just... But the park is crowded and the sky is darkening and you really should be getting back to work.

All too often, it is the latter view that we have. And we search on. Perhaps the sad thing is not that we don't find our perfect combination of sunlight and an open resting place, but that we shoot so low. "All I want is..." But, what if we are destined for something far greater than anything we can imagine. Is it worth waiting for...just for a little longer? Biblical texts about storing up treasures in heaven and keeping our lamps trimmed and burning for Who is to come seem comforting, but what happens after Sunday? That image of the free bench, the warm sun beam, the rustle of the wind, and the distant sound of children's laughter drowns out the words of wisdom we heard. "If only I had that..."

We are eternal beings in a temporal realm. The place where these realities meet is our constant struggle.

A Beginning

This is the beginning.
Almost anything can happen.
~Billy Collins from "Aristotle"

I've been running alongside the bandwagon for a while now. I've seen some interesting things from the side of the road. I've enjoyed the shouts of those aboard and now I've decided it's time to hop on. What will come of this is anyone's guess. The next section of the poem mentioned above begins with: "This is the middle. / Things have had time to get complicated." Sometimes things get complicated sooner than others, but I hope this is a long ride.

Why start now? There are several reasons. I hope to use this as kindling of sorts to light my writing. I have been away from it far too long and perhaps the glint of the public spotlight will work my ego enough to keep at it. I hope to use this as a place to record the passing moments that all too often slip away. I figure this will be less of a personal record of my day to day activities and more a compendium of things I find interesting. My thoughts on culture, literature, politics, sports, religion, etc. will most likely grace these pages. I also hope to post poems I like with regularity, if for no other reason than to have something insightful to post, even if I am not the author.

What is the point of the title? Walker Percy is a writer I have long admired. His work in linguistics, philosophy, and his novels are all well worth the read. I like the idea of our existence finding meaning in the work of others. How many times have you been to a place and been unimpressed only to discover that an author you admire has written about it. Suddenly, it is not just a lonely, dusty side road, but a gleaming city. There has been a connection made between you and a stranger. You get the warm feeling of an inside joke. Somehow, it matters. This is the crux of art, in my opinion, the ability to touch someone else who has shared in a similar experience. Writing is a solitary activity, but its bounty is a rich connection. I hope all who stop here will be like the man on the train and hopefully find some sort of small connection with the greater world.