Come To Think Of It ,,

At one time or another the reader has used this idiomatic expression, a phrase we use  when suddenly we remember something to add to an ongoing subject of conversation.  It would be awkward to begin a sentence out of the blue, so to speak, if one were not trying to segue with a current topic. And just like that we are introduced to another idiomatic expression; first used by a columnist in The Spectator, a London paper, in 1879. The writer made reference to a rare event and completely unexpected, like a lightning bolt occurring out of a clear blue sky.  And so we've managed to segue one idiomatic expression to another in one paragraph.  But wait. How do we pronounce segue? Seg-way is how it is pronounced and often some folks actually spell segue as "segway" but that would be incorrect.  However, 'Segway' is a proper noun (with S in upper case) that refers to a U.S. made self-balancing motorized vehicle on two wheels. Pronunciation and spelling notwithstanding, segue has Italian origin which refers to how movements in music would transition from one mood to the next.  Now you know.  It too is a way to connect the image of the brain above to the subject "Come to think of it".

You see, you were able to follow, that for non-English readers would look to be like seemingly jumbled characters, and put context to them because your brain - the seat of human thought - makes it possible for you to comprehend the whole paragraph in so little time that gives us all the impression of a lightning speed process by which we are able to discern the meaning to both written and spoken words; even more incredible for the latter, which makes instantaneous vocal conversation possible.

For centuries, from the moment scholars and linguists started to conceptualize our ability to use both vocal and written language to communicate, we marveled at the capability of human thought and the incredible speed by which the brain is able to process information. Now, come to think of it, how fast is human thought? 

Two researchers at Caltech claim to have quantified how fast we "think". Well, as a result of their study, relative to today's technology, human thought is molasses-slow at 10 bits per second when compared to the average of the slowest download speed in computer processing of 93 megabits per second (Mbps).  That is in millions of bits per second.  I just signed up to a new internet service provider recently when a fiber optics company just finished laying down fiber optic cables in our neighborhood for a stupefying 5 Gigabits per second  of download speed (in billion bits per second).

Wait, wait for just one long minute.  What are we talking about here? We read that in computing, your laptop or desktop computer and cell phones transmit information digitally - namely the digits of zeroes and ones, representing the switching of electric current from on and off. In other words, for analogy, zero and one are words if they were  written down on paper, on and off or as yes and no if they were spoken. Is that how close we can get for an analogy?

A bit, in computer speak, is either a one or zero, an on or off. So 10 bits per second is fast enough. As in the expression, in the blink of an eye, which is fast, we cannot blink  ten times in a second, therefore 10 bits per second is quite fast, by that comparison. Of course, we are talking apples and oranges. Now you know where this is going. It is another come to think of it moment.  It is apples and oranges because we are now talking about muscle reflexes involved in blinking  as opposed to our thought processes. When you are able to pull away your finger instantaneously from a hot stove at lightning speed, it was not via a thought process that saved your day from a serious injury but by some autonomous reflex that your brain is responsible for.

According to the researchers, 10 bits per second is fast enough for our survival as a species. So, why do we need 1 or for that matter a 5 Gig download capability with our computing and streaming services? Is it our impatient nature? Perhaps. Or, or is it because we are merely instinctively programmed to be attracted to the next shiny object. Some behaviorists think that is exactly what explains our attraction and fascination with gold and diamonds - shiny objects. It is neither here nor there, I think. But then I am not a behaviorist.  

Moving on, the researchers are puzzled by this phenomenon: "Our brains are constantly bombarded with sensory data at an incredible rate, estimated to be 109 bits per second, and yet our conscious thoughts process information at a far slower rate".

Apparently, even though information from our visual cortex (from what we "see") to our neocortex, we (our brain) ignore a lot of that data and we focus only on a sliver of data we deem important. That reminds me of the lyrics from "Some Enchanted Evening" (from the Broadway musical, South Pacific):

"Some enchanted evening

Someone may be laughing,

You may hear her laughing

Across a crowded room

And night after night,

As strange as it seems

The sound of her laughter

Will sing in your dreams.

Who can explain it?"

Who can tell you why?

Fools give you reasons,

Wise men never try.

Emile, the character who sung it, exhibited nothing more than someone who is able to ignore all the extra information that was streaming through his neocortex in that crowded room, except for the one - a stranger - who captivated his attention.

Now, you see how "come to think of it" would segue itself into almost anything our thought processes will take us?  

Then we hear "come to think of it" moments that are clearly off-tangent. This will definitely be off-tangent but it came right out of the blue.  See!?

In my oil business days from almost two decades ago, cpg meant nothing more than "cents per gallon". Now in upper case, CPG is Canada, Panama, Greenland.  See? Current events, but not to have politics intrude in the conversation, the news cycle inevitably makes our thought processes go whichever way, either inevitably or consciously, that we allow it to occur. 

So, come to think of it, the U.S. purchased the lower Mississippi basin, that is now Louisiana, from Napoleon Bonaparte's French empire in 1803. Sixty four years later, in 1867, Russia sold Alaska to the U.S. Then in 1917, for 25 million dollars in gold, the same USA bought  three islands, now known as the U.S. Virgin Islands, from Denmark.

You see, how this segues into what sounded like an incredulously silly idea of the U.S. buying the largest island in the world - Greenland? 'Come to think of it', why is it called Greenland when it is mostly white ten months of the year? Supposedly, it was called that to encourage adventurous Danes to migrate and develop the island. Apparently, even up to this day, the enticement did not work so well because for its size there are only no more than 57,000 Greenlanders who live there - a mix of Danes and Inuit. The latter, who do not want to be called Eskimos are actually related to the Alaska indigenous population - in physical appearance and similarity in language.

The big island is now front and center, not just for the potential opening bid by the newly elected U.S. President, but because of its oil and rare earth mineral deposits. 

But what about Canada and Panama? In the case of the northern neighbor, there really is not a visibly demarcated border. There is no language barrier either, except for those Canadians from Montreal and Quebec who to this day insist on speaking French.  Come to think of it, Louisiana has pockets of folks who speak Cajun, a kind of French derived dialect that those from Quebec and Montreal look down upon.  But Come to think of it, Cajun actually comes from the language spoken by citizens of Acadia, Canada that used to be a French colony way back when. Many Acadians from way back when did migrate to Louisiana when it was still a French territory. As much as the Cajun dialect is derided  by those from Quebec and Montreal, Parisians or French language purists in France don't look too kindly at how French Canadian is spoken either. Come to think of it, the British think the same way about American English. From My Fair Lady, Henry Higgins  said this about the English language, "In America, they haven't used it for years".

Come to think of it, why can't Canada join in and we call the entire region, "The United States of Northern America - USNA.  There would be a slight problem because USNA is already taken, as in United States Naval Academy (Annapolis).  No problem, it can easily be changed to USNAA. As a bonus, Canadian bacon will be called ham.  Oh, come to think of it, there will be no need for Niagara Falls to have a Canadian or U.S. side.

Imagine that, Northern America's gross domestic product (GDP) combined will outshine the entire commercial galaxy that for now is being contested by China.  As a combined geographic and military whole, the US, Canada and Greenland combined, will be something to behold, especially if the Panama Canal comes with the entire package - completing the acronym CPG as one grand acquisition.

A man, a plan, a canal – Panama - is one of those clever palindromes and a great symbol for how ships go back and forth through this grand waterway.  Come to think of it, although the Panamanian official currency is called a balboa (PAB), the country does not print it, instead it uses the U.S. dollar as its legal tender.  For currency exchange purposes, a balboa is equivalent to one U.S. dollar.  It is something to think about.

I can segue to so many more but come to think of it, I cannot ask for any more of the reader's time. I just hope I have provided you with a bit more to think about. 

 

Spider Talk 2

A little more than seven years ago, Oct. 25, 2017, I published a transcript of an actual conversation between two spiders from two different species in, "Spider Talk". They were Pholcus phalangioides and Argiope trifasciata.

This time, for identification purposes, we call them  Pholcus phalangioides 2 and Argiope trifasciata 2. Of course, both are many generations removed from 2017, and the venue of their conversation is much different.  Where their ancestors met regularly at a basement of one human host, named Steve, these two met on the invitation by Pholcus phalangioides 2 - the resident spider, at the wine cellar of a luxurious home in a very affluent neighborhood. 

Just as it was seven years ago, I still cannot reveal how I came across this transcript. 

Argiope trifasciata 2: Wow, thank you for inviting me over. This is an impressive basement.

Pholcus phalangioides 2:  This is not a basement. It's a 2000 square foot wine cellar, temperature and humidity controlled. It's a bit too chilly for me but just outside the door is a storage room. It is  damp all the time and dark and dusty. There is plenty of food there for me. I still have to hunt for them, of course.

Argiope trifasciata 2: What can you tell me about the homeowner?.

Pholcus phalangioides 2:  The husband is whom I am familiar with. His wife rarely ventures down here and the three children, never. The husband's name is Clarendon who fancies himself an oenophile, (a fancier name for a wine aficionado). A frequent visitor - a sommelier (an elevated rank bestowed to a head wine steward) - comes by almost every Monday evening, which happens to be his day off  at the city's fanciest French restaurant. He calls himself,  Benoît. His real name is Carlos. He once mentioned to Clarendon that his assumed  French name sounds more impressive when he introduces himself to the customers and emphasizing that his name is pronounced, Behn-nwa. Now, I have doubts too about the name Clarendon. The husband speaks with a British or Australian accent but more on that later.

Argiope trifasciata 2:You know all of these, how?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: I can tell you are not as evolved as I am.

Argiope trifasciata 2: Please, just tell me. My brain may not be as sophisticated as yours but I'm sensitive whenever someone brings it up.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: So sorry, I didn't mean to be insulting.  You are my guest, after all.

Argiope trifasciata 2: It's all right, please go on.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Oftentimes I take it for granted that my species, particularly, or rather specifically, the genes through my family tree,  had the good fortune of hitting the evolutionary jackpot. Look at my eight eyes. Behind them is a brain that can process light and sound discreetly like no other creature can and a memory and computing power that rivals a Cray computer. Brains of migrating birds can detect earth's magnetic field which guides them through a three thousand mile trip and back. Even monarch butterflies have uncanny senses in their simple brains that make their annual migration a walk in the park. In my case, I happen to have neurons on my entire body from my thorax even down to my hairy legs that make my computing power extraordinarily all encompassing. The only other creature with neurons running through their legs, or rather their tentacles, are octopuses. And, of course, I can regrow my legs. As a spider you must know that too.

Argiope trifasciata 2: Okay, I believe you. I have no way of contradicting you. I'm just a guest who has no idea what a Cray is, so please go on.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: The homeowner and his frequent guest, more often than not, let more wine get into their heads, if you know what I mean. Often, they forget to pretend anymore and that's when I realized Clarendon is neither British nor Australian. Benoit, I already told you he is really Carlos. I then deduced that he is either from Argentina or Venezuela - his diction, though refined, is far from Castilian to be a Spaniard. I have to conclude that he entered the country illegally years ago.  Clarendon, I know was just a third rate Shakespearean actor wannabe.

Argiope trifasciata 2: They're both up to no good, is that what you're telling me?

Pholcus phalangioides 2:They were both up to no good.

Argiope trifasciata 2: Wait, I may not be sophisticated but I know my tenses.  You said, "they were", as in the past tense.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Yes, you heard correctly. What I'm about to tell you will be hard for you to comprehend, so listen carefully.  I invited you here because I needed to tell another spider.

Argiope trifasciata 2: Wait, you have not been sipping droplets of their red wine, have you?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: No.  Just listen, please.  No more interruptions.

Argiope trifasciata 2: Go on, please.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Four weeks ago I heard Clarendon tell Benoit that he was being blackmailed. A fellow actor named Wilfred from way back when  chanced upon him as he was leaving the same fancy restaurant where Benoit worked. You see, Clarendon's wife, her whole family actually, is the one with the money. Clarendon oiled his way to the family, particularly the father - an avid patron to the arts and major donor. Clarendon did ingratiate with the wealthy family to near perfection.  The actor, Wilfred, threatened to expose Clarendon's past.

Argiope trifasciata 2: I hate to ask again, you know this, how?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: You are interrupting again. When they're both here, drinking and talking, I can't help but overhear entire conversations. If you still don't know it by now, I have total recall. Coupled with a flawless deductive ability that would make Sherlock Holmes envious, if he were real.

Argiope trifasciata 2: I don't know who Sherlock Holmes is, but okay.  Please continue.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: You see, Clarendon, though a mediocre Shakespearean actor, was much too clever at creating a story that convinced his wife, her dad, the entire family, of his extraordinary linkage to British royalty via a connection to some obscure Australian lineage. He married her and her money twelve years ago. 

Argiope trifasciata 2:  Wow. So, if he's exposed he will lose everything.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Well, he lost it alright. I'm getting ahead of myself here.  You keep interrupting, that is why.

Argiope trifasciata 2: I'm zipping it.

Pholcus phalangioides 2:Clarendon and Benoit hatched a plan two weeks ago. Clarendon was to invite the blackmailer, Wilfred, to his home. He timed it for last night, a Monday. His wife and three children had left Sunday afternoon for the ancestral estate where the entire clan on her dad's side was going to spend the entire week hunting, horseback riding, water sports and stuff. Clarendon - on the pretext of finishing up some business - was going to follow on Tuesday, that's today.

Argiope trifasciata 2: He's still here, isn't he?

Pholcus phalangioides 2:Why can't you just let me finish?

Argiope trifasciata 2: Sorry.

Pholcus phalangioides 2:Since the day I heard their plan, I stopped eating, which meant no hunting for food to conserve my venom. By limiting my water intake and keeping still for hours at a time, I increased the potency of my venom and had enough of it to paralyze an adult elephant.

Argiope trifasciata 2: What?  Oh, I don't want to hear anymore. No, please stop.  This is not real.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Listen, just listen. Please! Clarendon told Wilfred that he had little cash at this time but he has vintage wines that are worth a fortune in his wine cellar that a few bottles from his collection can easily be turned into hard cash. Wine collectors will be happy to pay good, real money for just a handful of the precious vintages. Wilfred can pick up the wine and some cash, Clarendon asked him to come over.

Argiope trifasciata 2: Yeah, really?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: It was nine o'clock last night when Wilfred showed up. Clarendon took him to the wine cellar while Benoit hid in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Clarendon was on top of his game, talking about wines, vintages and the wine collector's market. After half an hour of that he packed half a dozen bottles of his top collection which, he claimed, included a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac, 2015. He added to it some cash.  He convinced Wilfred that collectors will pay top dollar for the six bottles. Clarendon's next move was to convince Wilfred to try his latest acquisition.  It was a 2017 red by Opus One, a Napa Valley hot seller. He poured two glasses and gave one to Wilfred. Clarendon took the first sip. Wilfred followed. It must have been really good because Wilfred asked his glass to be refilled.

Argiope trifasciata 2: And?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: In less than two minutes after finishing his second glass, Wilfred felt lightheaded and told Clarendon that he needed to sit down for a while to clear his head or until he could see clearly. He tried to lower his head on the table. But then his chair gave way as his body bent over, his torso collapsing towards his lap in slow motion. Then he toppled over and was flat on his back on the floor, foaming at the mouth.

Argiope trifasciata 2: No! I don't want to hear any more.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Listen, get a hold of yourself.  What kind of a spider are you?

Argiope trifasciata 2: I don't like where this is going.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Just then, Benoit appeared at the door as Clarendon was tapping his fingers on a pad that looked like a wall-mounted thermostat. I did not know it until then but he must have punched a code that opened a well disguised secret door next to one of the wine racks. Clarendon nodded his head as he motioned Benoit to go over where Wilfred was lying. Clarendon grabbed Wilfred by the armpits while Benoit lifted both legs.  Then they carried the lifeless body through the secret door. I followed.

Argiope trifasciata 2: No!

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Both knelt over Wilfred's body. Clarendon was making sure Wilfred was not breathing anymore, while Benoit was emptying the pockets of Wilfred's wallet, cash, cell phone and car keys. Clarendon's both palms were on the floor as he was checking Wilfred's breathing.  Then I sunk both my fangs on the back of his left hand, injecting a good amount of my venom.  

Argiope trifasciata 2: Oh, you didn't!

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Clarendon screamed, writhing in pain, swearing. His back on the floor, his right hand grasping his left, he kept screaming. Benoit, confused and panicking by that time, moved his attention to helping Clarendon, by sliding his hand under Clarendon's head to make him comfortable, as the wine aficionado was convulsing, then total paralysis took over his body.  That's when I struck the second time.  Benoit felt it in an instant. The last remaining reserve of my venom went to his bloodstream immediately. In seconds, he was hyperventilating, then paralysis followed. Then it was all over. Three bodies on the floor were motionless.  One dead, two remained conscious but unable to move. Then I retreated away and out the door.

Argiope trifasciata 2: I don't see any door except the one at the entrance.  Where is it?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: It's right there.  Completely shut and you can't tell it's there.  Apparently, Clarendon had it especially constructed for a special room where his prized collections were kept. The room is hermetically sealed. 

Argiope trifasciata 2: Who closed it?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Apparently, it was designed to swing and shut itself off automatically after a few minutes. It is obvious that it can be opened from the inside but not if whoever is inside is incapacitated. Obviously. If no one else knows about the door, the existence of the control panel disguised as a thermostat, or the code, the room will remain shut.

Argiope trifasciata 2: But soon the family will start looking once he doesn't show up at the estate. Wait, Clarendon and Benoit will run out of oxygen before then, right?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Wow, just like that, congratulations! You've become Sherlock Holmes. Well, it is not our problem, is it?

Argiope trifasciata 2: What do you mean, "our"?  I am not part of this.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: You  know what I mean.  But, yes, you have no part in this. But now that I've shared the story with you, I feel free. 

Argiope trifasciata 2: Let me ask you this.  We know only humans act with malice, right? This is so uncharacteristic of a creature such as you or me or a boa constrictor. We kill only for food or attack only when threatened.  When an owl hunts and kills mice, it is to feed itself or its young. In the process, the mice and rat population is controlled. That's how nature intended it to be.  What compelled you to take the life of two human beings?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Why is what I did so different from controlling the population of rats? No offense to the rats but if they overpopulate it is not good for everyone and everything else, right? It is all about the ecosystem.  In this case, it is about stopping bad people from doing bad things indefinitely.  Did I not just save Clarendon's family?  The likes of Benoit and Wilfred are similarly extinguished for the greater good.  Don't you agree?

Argiope trifasciata 2: It's been a long day, okay? I need to go.

Pholcus phalangioides 2: I know.

Argiope trifasciata 2: Aren't you  worried I will talk?

Pholcus phalangioides 2: Who among the spiders will believe you?  More significantly, in case you forgot, you can't talk to humans, let alone know human talk.  They can't hear you anyway.

Now, my dear human readers, I know you have questions about the story. In the words of the laughing hyena in, "Listen, The Animals Are Talking", (Sept 20, 2024), quote: "What do you want, a story or a debate?" 😍

On the other hand, those who are impressed with Pholcus phalangioides 2, please refer to the story of its ancestor in "Spider Talk" (October, 2017).

https://abreloth.blogspot.com/2017/10/spider-talk.html

  

 

The Ubiquity of Goodness, The Inevitability of...

We would like to think that at every patch of the human experience, where history has  a running tally sheet between good and evil, that it is not evenly split down the middle but rather lopsidedly in favor of goodness. Or, are we to believe in the pessimism that the ubiquity of goodness is always matched by the inevitability of what is bad?

We bring back Claire to share the letter she wrote to her dad before coming home for this Christmas.  We met her in, "Leap of Faith Into The Less Traveled Road", (August 23, 2023).  I introduced her story from when she started asking her dad questions when she was nine years old.  In her own quest at finding answers, and after a time thereafter, she changed her mind about what to major in college.  She at first considered majoring in history but before the summer ended after her senior year of high school, she opted to double-major in biology and chemistry instead. After which, her plan was to go on to pre med to pursue a medical degree.  

Her natural intelligence, coupled with a tirelessly inquisitive mind, gave her the strong paddle that made her academic pursuit more like going downstream rather than negotiating the opposing rapids of the onrushing river that is the first year of college.  Outside of the confines of the classrooms, the study halls and the dorm room desk, she did not abandon the pleadings of her probing mind to sometimes go beyond the textbooks and lectures. She stayed away from  social media while she kept up with the news feed through her own personal filter. When she needed inspiration her go-to reference was the Bible her mom gave her before she left for college. 

This Christmas is her first time to be back home months away from her family.  Last Thanksgiving she and two of her classmates decided to stay on campus to do volunteer work at the local shelter for the homeless. The university acquiesced to the request of the Dean to allow the three students free meals at the faculty cafeteria throughout the week.  

Days before the Christmas holiday break,  Claire wrote to her dad.

Dearest Dad,

First, please hug Mom for me.  Second, thank you for the plane ticket.  I had actually saved  money for it from my part time job on campus; so,  I guess I have money now for Christmas gifts. But don't tell Sandra and Jim I got them something special. And I got you and Mom something too but don't expect much, okay? I know Mom will always say that the love of an obedient daughter is plenty enough, right? 

Why can't this letter wait till I get there?  Remember I used to ask you lots of questions when I was nine. Well, I have more. Back then I knew you were particularly surprised by the questions I asked. Now you have more time  to prepare. These are questions coming from your studious daughter who is well on her way to a 4.0 average this semester but don't be intimidated by that (😊). First of all, that is just my way of saying that your money is well spent. You know me. That's one of the ways of saying thank you (so much) and especially to Mom who worries a lot about how her loving daughter will handle life away from home. I hope 4.0 is reassurance enough for her not to worry.

The volunteer work my two classmates and I did at the homeless shelter on Thanksgiving week opened our eyes in very profound ways.  It is not easy to actually explain what the three of us felt, collectively. I will share mine. It is not just  that it touched me deeply but also that it evoked certain emotions which, naturally,  prompted me to ask some questions. 

I ask - all three of us actually asked in the same way - why I, my sister and brother, have the good fortune to have parents like you who have paved the way for us a better future while two young kids and their  mother at the shelter had so little to hope for.

The two children, ages 4 and 5, and their mom had been homeless the last two months, we found out. The mother told me that those  two months - nightmarish and incredibly painful  -  were a relief from the last five years or so of her eight years of marriage. How sad is that? Being homeless the last two months is a relief?

The children. They seemed to manage better than the adults. One afternoon, it was right after Thanksgiving lunch, I helped the two kids with the puzzle they were working on. They were happy, showing little care because, after all, there was a roomful of donated toys. I glanced at their mother who was watching nearby and I saw the furrowed brows, a face filled with despair and worry.  As she watched us, she smiled rarely. The seemingly forced smile would dissipate so quickly as if she did not want anyone to notice it.

Dad, why does something like this happen? Let me say this first. I saw so much good from everyone at the shelter - from those who run the place, the volunteers and from those who come by to donate clothes, baby and children supplies and non-perishable food items (meaning canned goods, mostly). But notably, it was the young children and how transparently innocent they were. There were not that many actually - there were just seven of them. We were told that on average, there are not that many children at any one time except during holidays like Thanksgiving.  

The shelter showed me what was good in people. Remember Dad, you said more than once that I always saw a lot of goodness everywhere, but was it because that was all I ever looked for? Was I really a Pollyanna the way my high school classmates described me? The volunteer work made me look closer to the outer peripheral edges of my view of the world to ask why society has made it necessary to have shelters like this. What could be so bad that makes people seek refuge at places like these. Then I wonder too how many are out there who are not able to find such a place; or worse, that there are those who know where to go but they simply can't leave the predicament they're in.  

First, my quantitative mind asks, "What is the ratio of good over bad in the world?" I presume that goodness must lopsidedly predominate what is bad. I have good reasons to say that Dad, because if that were not true, would we still have a civilization, such as what we have now? My biology professor, though,  once casually made a comment during one of her lectures, that luck and not a whole lot more is responsible for civilization. I hope to someday discuss that with her if I get the chance.

The weekend after Thanksgiving as we were wrapping up our volunteer work, I did manage to talk with the mother of the two children while the two kids were taking a nap. She said that she didn't want to stay at the shelter forever but she didn't know where to go. Her husband doesn't yet know where they are.  The shelter is very good at keeping all information about the residents confidential, even allowing them to use aliases. She can't contact her parents who are out of state because she knows that's where her husband was going to look first. Besides, her dad was not in good health and she wanted to avoid putting her mom through more stress. She confided to me, though not with much detail, that she suffered both from physical and emotional abuse and she is scared for the kids who are already suffering collateral damage.  She had no more tears to shed, she said, as she saw my eyes well up.  Then she stopped talking about the abuse, sparing me the details.  But she did bring up something that keeps bothering me to this day.

You know Dad, she must have been like me today when she was young.  She too believed in the goodness in people. She said that was what attracted her to her then boyfriend. They met at work and she thought he was perfect. They got married after a year of dating.   He became a monster, she said, after the birth of their second child. I was struck by what she later said.

She came from a devoutly religious family. Her husband was too. She abandoned her faith when her prayers were not answered, she said, after her husband became abusive and cruel to her the last five years of a once wonderful marriage. It was as if the devil just took over their marriage - her words. 

I was disheartened that I could not convince her to renew her faith in the Bible and the church. She questioned everything in the Bible, such as why as early as the third chapter in Genesis, the devil was already present to wreak havoc on the very first man and woman relationship by tempting Eve to eat the forbidden fruit. 

She then said, "I don't believe anymore in a God who allowed that to happen in the first place? Didn't God not have the choice to not allow the devil to do such a thing, knowing how vulnerable the first man and woman were? Am I and my children still paying for the so-called original sin to this day?  So, please spare me any more encouragement to seek spiritual help. But thank you for helping, especially with the kids. Do you see as I do that for everyone like you, the devil has a thousand?" All I could do, Dad, was to hug her.  Then she cried profusely.

I would like to talk about this when I get home. Now you know ahead of time what I was going to ask you. Don't worry.  I will not spoil Christmas for you and Mom. But I think I would like this to be part of our conversation these coming holidays. And I know too that you will tell me the allegorical purpose of some of the messages in the Bible.  I know that. I get that.

Now, please don't finish decorating the tree until I get there.  But I must warn you I have questions about that too.  The mother, for the sake of the two children, dreads this coming holiday.  She's conflicted, shaking her head, about the way  Christmas is celebrated by quoting to me, Jeremiah, 10: 3-4  (KJV)

3 For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman, with the axe.

4 They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not.

What can I say? If that was a description in the Old Testament, then she is right about that practice predating the birth of Jesus by many centuries. She, and she's not alone with this because like many who subscribe to the idea about the unlikely origin of the Christmas tree with not a single reference of it in the New Testament, believes that this is another way people are deceived to believe in something that has no basis in what really happened a long time ago.

School stuff after Thanksgiving kept me busy but I promised to check on her and the children after the holidays. I would like to have some answers for her, if they are still there when I get back. 

I can't wait to come home to cry on mom's shoulders and listen to your wise counsel.

Kisses and hugs to you and Mom,

Claire

Let's hope Claire will get her answers and every reader gets his or her wish for a Wonderful Christmas and a New Year better than all the previous ones.

"Leap of Faith Into The Less Traveled Road",  Link below:

https://abreloth.blogspot.com/2023/08/leap-of-faith-into-less-traveled-road.html

 

Music to Our Ears

Language and music.  Which came first? Both are obviously universal for humanity but a similar  question that attempts to define "which came first, the chicken or the egg", manages to intrude in conversation among those who care to engage in that kind of futile debate. I am just a kibitzer on the subject. However, I cannot resist the fascination with what it was like during the first moment when our ancestors realized they can modulate their vocal chords to produce sound in repeatable patterns to replace hand and bodily gestures to communicate with one another. I wasn't there to witness it but I can assume that was the beginning of language.  However, can we not also assume that perhaps our ancestral mothers, long before speech, may have hummed some soothing sounds, then a  tune even, to calm and reassure the  little creatures of their safety and comfort in the warmth and secure clutches of motherhood?

We can leave those speculations as they are. What is certain is that today we have language and music that make us distinctly human.  Naturalists and scientists will beg with exceptions, of course, because in their world songbirds and whales do sing and chimpanzees and gorillas can be taught sign language. Ornithologists claim that birds - crows, ravens, canaries and the common sparrows, etc. -  have regional or zonal dialects in how they caw, croak or tweet and sing.  Be that as it may, we know  not to expect any of those species to write a sonnet or compose a piano concerto. "That hurts", a bird might say, in whatever dialect it uses but speak it still can't.  "Double hurt"! Well, okay, let's leave the birds alone.

Now for the next question.  Is music (vocal and instrumental) the language of the soul? We don't know for sure where the expression came from or who actually said it first  but it may have originated from the time of Plato.  Or later, expressed as,

"Music is the language of the soul, the voice of the heart, and a message from eternity."        ---- Debasish Mridha

"Music, said Arnold Bennett, is “a language which the soul alone understands but which the soul can never translate.” It is, in Richter’s words “the poetry of the air.” Tolstoy called it “the shorthand of emotion.” Goethe said, “Religious worship cannot do without music. It is one of the foremost means to work upon man with an effect of marvel.” Words are the language of the mind. Music is the language of the soul.

Music, like language, evolved over centuries of human development. Today, generally speaking, music is hailed from two proponent camps: the classical buff and the fans of pop music. In between, the list may start from the time of the minstrels, liturgical and choral hymns, Gregorian chants, to spirituals, from opera to Broadway musical, from ragtime to rock 'n roll to Bluegrass to reggae and Rap music, romantic and pining songs and the often moping messages of country music and  several others.  In other words, we've enriched music and music enriched us.

Let us not forget music's presence even in times of battles - from the bugle call to charge or retreat; the legendary effect of bagpipes  on advancing British and Scottish troops, the sound of the bugle during reveille to wake the troops up, taps to mourn the dead, and, of course, national anthems that instill patriotism.

Not the least of music's power is its integral influence on dancing. From ballet to the tango and the waltz; from polka to Latin dances; from swing to jazz to rock 'n roll, various folk dances, etc.

This will not be a thesis on music because I cannot even hold a tune. If perfect pitch is analogous to the height of Mt. Everest, I put myself at the lowest flatlands at the foothills of the Himalayas. In high school a friend told me that I was out of tune even when I sneezed or cough; and he was a friend. That is why today, I relegate myself to tuning a table saw or a hand plane but I stay away from attempting to do the same with a piano or violin.  But I think I know and appreciate music.

We've all learned to appreciate music and it seems like our brains are hardwired for it; however, we're told by overly-funded researchers looking to spend grant money on anything, that other living creatures and certain plants have an "ear" for music too. They have us believe that classical music makes plants grow better and in experiments fishes were drawn to music. Some pet owners claim that their pets have developed an affinity to music. Anecdotally or by experiments, we are told that music does seem to have some kind of universal effects on creatures outside of our species. Suffice it to say that perhaps there could be some kernel of truth in there somewhere.

Back to the two camps comprised of classical and pop music, generally speaking, as the two largest groups.  Let's cut to the chase. Fans of pop music have this to say, "Why does classical music change moods so much and have so many boring parts"? On the other hand, classical buffs say, "Why does pop have to have a noisy rhythm section, and why is the beat always the same?" And, "It's too simplistic".  To which, Pop fans say about classical music, "It's too complicated". {From the book,  Classical Music: A New Way of Listening}.

At one time some centuries ago, classical music was cloaked in utmost snobbery. That was because only the rich, the elites of society, had access to it; only they had the money and time to engage the services of musicians and composers or the wherewithal and means to attend live concerts (no recordings then) or private chamber music. Even as late as the 20th century, classical music was for snobs.

On the other hand pop music and love songs became the music of the "general public".  Unfortunately, they were and still are trendy. Songs of the 20's gave way to the 30's and 40's, then to the 50's, and so on and on as taste and genre evolved. After Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra .. came Elvis, then the Beatles, Michael Jackson .. Rap music and so many other artists and styles, too lengthy to list everything. And don't forget country and western music.  Except for Rap I've enjoyed all the genre of pop music as they came along from generation to generation. I would still listen to Elvis and The Beatles and romantic songs today.

Meanwhile, classical compositions from as early as the 17th century and for 300 hundred years after that are still being played today in concert halls and large venues like sports stadiums and parks.  Anyone now with access to various recording media from smart phones to TV to  sophisticated multi-speaker systems at home can listen to it. Snobbery may still exist among those self-elevated classical purists  but access and desire to enjoy the same music is no longer limited to the ruling class.

And the thing is, during that long period of almost four centuries, only about forty or so composers are considered to have attained greatness that to this day their works remain the foundation of classical music upon which modern composers continue to build on. The music of Brahms, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, Rachmaninov, Tchaikovsky and thirty plus or so others, are the standards of classical music today.  But only a handful from each composer's works are considered signature pieces that are most sought after by both listeners and musical performers (either vocally or instrumentally).

Pop music by definition is already widely popular to the music-consuming public so we will not spend much time with it.

The encouraging words I pose here are for those sitting on the fence; not for those who are already knee-deep if not entirely immersed in classical music. For those willing to dip their toes into classical music, it is not necessary to go out and buy CDs or download them. Be aware that knowingly or unknowingly you  already have an ear for it. And YouTube is happy to provide.

Those of us of a certain age who loved the Lone Ranger TV series growing up, enjoyed the theme song though perhaps not aware it was from Rossini's  "William Tell" overture.  People who may have already forgotten what the sci-fi movie 2001: A Space Odyssey was all about, even disliked it at the end, will not forget the opening theme music. It was from Richard Strauss's composition "Thus Spoke Zarathustra", followed later "during two intricate and extended space travel sequences" in the movie by "The Blue Danube", that is inarguably the best well known waltz composed by Johann Strauss. A few other award-winning movies like, "Shawshank Redemption", "Fatal Attraction" and "Room With A View" had featured opera arias. 

In the U.S., graduation theme music, often during the recessional, people are familiar with "Pomp and Circumstance" composed by English composer, Edward Elgar. Outside of the U.S. the graduation theme is usually the "Triumphal March" from Giuseppe Verdi‘s opera "Aida". So, whether we like it or not, we've been exposed to classical music.

Broadway musicals, relatively late in the evolution of music, are an easier bridge to cross for most folks. A few of them were adapted from successful plays. "My Fair Lady" from "Pygmalion", "West Side Story" from "Romeo and Juliet", "Camelot" and "Brigadoon" from tales of chivalry and folklore. The Broadway musical, "Rent" was adapted from Puccini's opera, "La bohème". 

Now, I will be the first to admit that I have never sat  nor cared to spend time through an entire opera, let alone listen to all of the arias. And not all classical compositions I find pleasing or tolerable. I know I am not alone in this.

Both Broadway musicals and opera are capable of drawing all kinds of emotional responses from the listener but if I were to draw just one from several memorable sequences - even though I do not understand Italian - there is one aria that is certain to evoke an emotion. Puccini's "Madame Butterfly" was later adapted to Broadway via  "Miss Saigon" by Andrew Lloyd Weber. I recommend this one aria, sung by Carmen Monarcha, a Brazilian soprano, because  the story behind it is explained first by Andre Rieu (famed Dutch conductor and violinist), from the YouTube clip below.  Copy the link  and paste it on your search toolbar and click.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kd0j007Y9fY

As a way to convince the reader that perhaps we are indeed hardwired for music, please do the same with the link below and watch a baby sitting on a high chair who for the first time listened to Pavarotti sing. Towards the end watch the baby's feet move with the music, or so it seems.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZX6fsvXKw7M

In a nutshell, from all the diversity and choices that music has provided us in so many ways and in the amount of time that humanity has existed, is it not God's gift to the soul?

P.S. It is never too late for anyone to begin a journey into classical music and Broadway musical. All that is needed is a foray into YouTube. There, check out piano prodigy Alexandra Dovgan, whose childhood from as early as five years old to now when she is perhaps 17 or 18 is prominently featured on YouTube.  Patricia Janeckova, soprano who tragically died at age 25, last year, before realizing her full potential. She lives on in YouTube. For Broadway, "Sierra Boggess is an Olivier nominated actress, best known for originating Ariel in Disney's "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway and re-inventing Christine in Phantom of the Opera".

Check out Chopin pieces for piano. His nocturnes and polonaises should be familiar.  Chopin's Piano Concerto No.1 live with Olga Scheps, pianist, is worth listening to on YouTube (13 M views). There are more, obviously, but it is best to let your own taste and preference lay out the framework of your quest. It is food for the mind and a stimulant for the brain.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bFo65szAP0

 

 

 

The Timeliness of Gratitude

Alternatively, to be more profound, it ought to be, "The Timelessness of Gratitude". For most of North America timeliness of gratitude is the highlight of the month of November, specifically on the last Thursday.  That week is often one of, if not the busiest travel days  of the year. It is also just about a month before another important day that is celebrated across all nations that subscribe to the Christian faith.  Christmas, however, may have veered off a bit farther away from its original intended meaning when it seems to merely denote when people are thinking about whom to express their gratefulness, or to whom they will be grateful for in the aftermath of ripped wrappers, shredded ribbons and crumpled boxes heaped into a pile by late morning of the 25th. Those two months have become the highlights to outshine the rest of the year. That is when introspection can help us put everything in perspective.

Timeliness of gratitude must transcend the pages of the calendar. 

"Timelessness: the quality of not appearing to be affected by the process of time passing or by changes in fashion".  --- Oxford Dictionary 

The expression of gratitude should therefore neither be bound by time nor changes in lifestyle or social and cultural evolutions.  

Why then do we set only a particular segment of each year to be grateful?

Decades ago that now seems so far back in time, growing up in one of the central islands on a Pacific archipelago, a post war baby  nurtured by shell shocked parents in 1946, barely a year after the country's liberation was a phenomenon of nature filling a vacuum - labeled later by sociologists as the "baby boom era". To have survived the conditions brought on a population of parents reeling from the ravages of war was as much a phenomenal feat as it was miraculous. For millions of children from that generation around countless parts of the world ravaged by war, the miracle was to last a lifetime of gratitude.

Seven years after that island was liberated, those post war babies, having survived against all odds, were now first graders in the public school system. It would seem strange, even incomprehensible, by today's standards, that those children who up to that point in their lives knew only one language - that of their native tongue - found their first day at school looking at their first grade books completely written in English.

Odder still was the fact that the entire archipelago was a Spanish colony for three hundred years prior to 1898 when after the Spanish-American War, it became a U.S. colony (or commonwealth, depending on who looked at it at that time) when Spain gave it up along with Puerto Rico and Cuba (where the Spanish-American conflict started). However, the U.S. granted the archipelago its independence fifty years later in 1946, immediately after the war; whence, the first Filipino baby boomers were born. That explains why the first books they were handed on their first day of school were entirely in English - a holdover from the American educational system; every postwar school teacher a product of it.

Some of those young children would often spend some of their idle time watching by the shorelines as big foreign ships come and go. Those huge tankers came to load sugar and molasses. Sugar cane was the island's main agricultural crop.  They learned that their country was a huge exporter of sugar - the bulk of which headed for a "mythical" country far, far away.

And they all wondered what it was like to be in that far away land called America. 

Stranger still was that in elementary school they were taught to sing "America The Beautiful" and learned about Thanksgiving. They had no realistic grasp of "amber waves of grain" or "purple mountain majesties" but they sung the song with gusto anyway.  Even stranger was for those young kids to be singing "dashing through the snow", with  no earthly  way to imagine  "what fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight", when tropical weather was all they knew, even in December.  

I was one of those kids. 

Growing up in a seaside town, in a poor barrio, kids my age somehow survived malnutrition and post-war living conditions. Some of us continued to dream, however fantastical the idea was of ever leaving the island for that mythical land.

At the city plaza stood a monument. 

The monument honored the heroism of Private First Class (Pfc) Theodore C. Vinther, 185th Infantry Regiment, US Army. He enlisted at the age of 29, a bit older than most young men, in April, 1942, out of Berkeley, CA. Like so many young men of that time (some as young as 17) who volunteered for the war effort, they were shipped to foreign lands many of them may not even have heard of before then and fought to free so many they did not know.  Many of them did not come back.

The effort to liberate the Philippines was hard-fought in an island-to-island battle against the Japanese occupation. U.S. forces landed on the northeast side of one of the central islands before heading towards the city. A  bridge at a town several kilometers from the city had to be secured. 

"Vinther volunteered to be one of the men to cross the bridge, which was rigged with explosives, under enemy fire, to overtake the explosives control point. It was 5:00 am the morning of March 29, 1945. Vinther was mortally wounded at the bridge after killing two Japanese soldiers, one of whom was but a few feet from the electrical controls. The capture of this bridge sped the advance of the 40th Infantry Division by two days and took the Japanese by such surprise that they rapidly abandoned the City of Bacolod--they were unable to execute their plans to burn and destroy the city and to inflict pain and death on the civilians as they did in other cities of the nation". 

My parents lived in that city.  Who knows what could have happened to them if the American forces did not make it in time.  My mother later would recall when she saw the American soldiers walking along the rice paddies. She said they appeared to her like giants from another world.

Pfc. Vinther was buried at the Manila American Cemetery. Like thousands of U.S. soldiers who died in foreign lands, Pfc. Vinther occupied only a small cemetery plot. (Below is a photo of that cemetery).

There are twenty five American cemeteries in five continents, in ten foreign countries - from Belgium to Tunisia where 130,000 U.S. servicemen lay permanently buried.

Lest we forget, November is not just Thanksgiving month, it is also when we celebrate Veterans Day on November 11.

And so it was for one of those skinny boys by the shoreline watching those ships when three decades later his family of four  made it to that "mythical" place.  Our two sons, ages 5 and 6, who have not yet learned to speak English, were thrust into the public school system.  Their first day at school was the same way it was for me.  A little over a decade later, our eldest went to the U.S. Naval Academy, graduated and served as an officer in a nuclear submarine. A small token of gratitude to a generous nation.

And so it is that we ought to be reminded of the "timelessness of gratitude". Everyday is a gift.  We open a present each morning we wake up. If we set just one thing aside to be grateful for each day, we will find that there are way more than there are days in the year.  And we will find new ways to be grateful for everyday forward so there will be an endless accumulated number at each passing year. Hence, the timelessness of gratitude!

To one and all, I wish you,

 

What Can Possibly Go Wrong?

"What can possibly go wrong?" is the question asked by anyone from either side of the political divide in the U.S. today, days before the presidential election, and is  filled with trepidation and unprecedented concern. It will still remain a nagging question past November 5th.  In fact, it will raise more questions. Those who rooted for the winning candidate will still be asking, what can possibly go wrong with meeting the promises made, what roadblocks ahead will derail their agenda, what possible challenges not anticipated that can harm the new administration, etc. On the other hand, supporters of the losing candidate will lay out every scenario they feared the most about what  can and will go wrong. It can be most debilitating for some, for others it will be a huge collective shrug towards, "wait till the next election".

Meanwhile, there will be those who will be asking, "What if..?" Far from just being hypothetical, a "What if" question always summons either hopeful or dire consequences.  Hopeful and dire scenarios can be real or imagined, depending on who is making the assessment.  Let's keep in mind though that scenarios we imagine, even if hopeful, can have dire situations on the flip side. Give me a minute to explain.  

Seven years ago I mused about, "What If".  Questions preceded by "What if" are almost always interesting and intriguing. 

For example, one of the "what if" scenarios I proposed then seven years ago is shown below.  You can tell it was a while back because I talked about world population being just 7 billion; it is now well past that, closer to 8 billion, actually.  Also, I mentioned the 2017 Tesla Model S. 

Anyway, what I proposed then still works today.  Please read, then we'll go from there.

What if suddenly this morning we (all of 7 billion people around the world) woke up and each household or every single unmarried able-bodied adult has a net worth of over a million dollars?  Don’t ask how? What would the world be like?  I think it will be worse than yesterday. Imagine Elon Musk – I’m picking on him – took out his top of the line 2017 Tesla Model S to drive to a nearby Starbucks for his favorite latte. He won’t get one because the barista who served him yesterday (and all baristas, in fact) is no longer working there. Would you, if you had a million dollars in the bank? Elon Musk will soon find out there is no one to collect his garbage, deliver his mail, and there is no one working at the Tesla plant or the SpaceX headquarters. He will not be alone in that predicament.  

Try imagining every scenario anywhere and you’ll know it is not going to be pretty. The Maasai cattle herder in Tanzania, previously subsisting on a daily food intake of 1400 calories or less daily, who can now afford to increase his herd of cattle, will find out that there are no cattle available for sale because every Maasai around the region will want to do the same. There is much celebration across the country and alas, every cattle was butchered for the big party.

Around the world home prices will skyrocket when every homeowner, including those living in cardboard boxes from everywhere poverty was the norm yesterday, will want a nice home today.  Mathematicians, sociologists and political scientists will not want to answer this “what if” scenario.  Economists – let us not forget them - will for the first time agree on something: the world economy will collapse into a sudden implosion. There will be no one to sell anything to anyone; besides who will be working anywhere to produce the goods or provide the services of any kind. Who will keep the peace on the streets, and so on and on? You get the picture. Suffice it to say, it is going to be a maddeningly chaotic world!

What seemed like a positively well thought out fantasy to best address the biggest drawback of a capitalist economic system will after all become a destructive engine.  I think I have written enough in the past about equity not to be confused with equality.  We will not digress to that discussion. 

What can possibly go wrong, sometimes will. Even in the best of circumstances something unanticipated can upset even the best laid plan. This might seem like a very pessimistic view but realities after elections, any election, local or national, have ways of turning away from the pages that promises were written on. An optimistic view is that the new or an incumbent administration continuing on can and will keep most of its promises or is able to successfully maneuver the country into the right track despite all the unanticipated roadblocks or detours from the agenda.  The administration's ability to succeed hinges on how far away it can separate itself from doing the wrong thing over and over again.

Elections have come and gone for nearly a quarter of a millennium now in this country.  A handful of elections were more pivotal than others, some can be described as ineffectually successful as artificial sugar - deceptively sweet but lacking in calories when a nation needed the energy to move forward.

This year's election could be one of those pivotal turning points in the nation's history. For one, in an evenly divided country, the greatest need is for a nation to be as close to three quarters of its population united in purpose and direction.  If it remains at 50-50, it will be like a spinning top that can easily topple over at the slightest gust of political winds or when it loses its energy to stoke the people's will or support.

The biggest thing that can go wrong is when the people lose their faith in the system that is supposed to work for them. We know that is about as ill defined as wind blown pages of history left unlearned or simply because time has a way of eroding the granite-hard foundations that used to define what was right that is now wrong or only half-right, or what used to be wrong is now right or partially justifiable.  Morality, as we have come to realize now, is not the etched-in-stone prescriptions that the elders in the early stages of this country used to believe in. And there were good reasons for re-evaluating the prescriptions when what ails the nation is changing by the decades. 

New morality, for lack of a better phrase, can be an agent of virulence or simply sugared water. Either one can be brought on via one or two election cycles.  Before we can wake up to the realization,  we are a changed nation.  A nation that will be led to the same path as nations not unlike the ones that had gone past their historical shelf life, like those of every empire - no matter what power it achieved - that came and went in the last six thousand years or so.

Whatever your inclination is, whatever political persuasion you adopted, please vote on or before November 5th. To remain uncommitted does not excuse you from what will happen or for what can go wrong past that day. Not voting is a choice.  Worse is that it is a choice to not care.  

So, please vote.  What can go wrong that definitely will go wrong is when you ignore to cast your vote.

P. S.  This has been sort of a tradition on my part prior to the last three elections to muse about the subject.

November 13, 2015, a year before the 2016 election I wrote, "When Rattlesnakes Don't Rattle Anymore" 

January 21, 2019, a year before the 2020 election I wrote, "The Silencing of the Lambs"