Last week's Economist has a special report on Mexico, which contains a number of interesting facts supporting the idea that things are looking up down there:
Mexico outpaced Brazil last year and will grow twice as fast next year.
The fertility rate will soon be lower than the U.S.
Mexico exports as much as the rest of Latin America put together, and trade makes up a bigger percentage of its GDP than any other large country.
In 2000 it cost $0.32/hour to employ a manufacturing worker in China, compared to $1.51 in Mexico. By last year those numbers had risen to $1.63 in China and $2.10 in Mexico. Plus transportation costs are rising and distances are fixed.
Currently Mexico is the world's fourth biggest auto exporter, and one of the ten biggest oil producers.
Grisly stories aside, the country's overall murder rate is the same as Brazil and the murder rate is subsiding.
Since 2004, free health care has been implemented. It is now universally available and costs 6.5% of GDP, lower than what most of the rich world spends.
Between 1995-2000 3 million Mexicans moved to the U.S. and 700,000 returned. In 2005, these numbers were 1.4 million in each direction.
Payments from the U.S. to Mexico are the world's biggest stream of remittances, bringing more foreign currency into the country than tourism does.
Mexico has free trade agreements with 44 countries, more than any other nation.
Good governance, never a given, is the key to continued success, but it is definitely a country worth watching.
Race Against the Machine is one of the most interesting books I've read this year, and I'm constantly seeing examples of technology that heralds the ultimate dominance of our robot overlords. Today, a guy came to measure the mancave--soon to be repurposed for the holidays as a guest bedroom--for a new carpet.
He had a handheld laser pointer, which communicated wireless with a tablet, which was running a piece of software that sketched the contours of the room. He was finished in 5 minutes. I asked him about it: "I used to be able to do 8 houses a day." he said. "Now I can easily do 15. That means that the technology has doubled his productivity, but it also means that the Triangle needs one less person to measure rooms prior to carpet installation. There may be some cost savings for me, and some added IT work in the Triangle, but that job isn't coming back, and it doesn't seem at all improbable, that when the time comes to replace the carpet, I'll simply take my phone to Lowe's and they'll be able to get all the information they need from a photo I provide. I wonder what our friend will be doing then.
I've mentioned before that we follow the team FKA Bullets in our house. The way this came to be is logical, however improbable. I grew up a Pistons Fan. I wanted to be Isiah Thomas and I would defend Bill Laimbeer and the young Dennis Rodman unequivocally.
I moved to DC in 1990, and, although I was aware of the Bullets, my loyalty to the Detroit squad continued unabated. I was mildly entertained by the pairing of Chris Webber and Juwan Howard and the sight of Gheorghe Muresan lumbering into the picture after the team had used up half of the shot clock or blocking a shot without leaving the ground always amused, but otherwise I felt nothing for the local boys.
When we moved to Macedonia in 1997, the Bullets announced two things: that they were moving from Landover to the city center and that they were changing their name to the Wizards. Having lived for 5 years on Capitol Hill and worked at Metro Center I was a strong supporter of the move and an equally strong opponent of the name change. Not understanding the evil ways of marketing, I bought a hat and a t-shirt, thinking that the owner, who made the name change in response to gun violence in the District, would not allow the production of similarly themed merchandise (in reality, it probably increased the sale, as the Wizards immediately started wearing throwback jerseys and filling the team store with retro merch).
But 1997 was also the salad days of the web and the Washington Post (our homepage at the time), attempting to ramp up its internet presence, hired Michael Lee and Ivan Carter to cover the team. Their quality and comprehensive coverage, along with the horrible quality of television in Skopje, gave me an unprecedented look inside the organization, and I began to develop a relationship with the writers and the players.
Then the owner hired Michael Jordan to run the team, and, when he couldn't manage that, the legend decided to put on a Wizards jersey. I can remember going to a sellout game against the Timberwolves at Verizon Center, and the enthusiastic crowd was not at all demoralized by the fact that Michael muffed a dunk and the team was torched by a young Kevin Garnett and a then unknown guard named Chauncey Billups. The team could do no wrong, even though, in retrospect, they were actually doing everything wrong: jettisoning young players and hitching their wagon to an aging superstar who could no longer carry a team by himself.
But I was hooked, and, even the OG got into it, identifying Gallery Place as "Michael's stop" when we took the Red Line to work/day care at Unon Station.
Fast forward to today, when the new ownership has finally thrown off the vestiges of the Jordan era (as well as the subsequent rise and fall of Agent Zero) and turned the aircraft carrier around to begin providing a quality product again. We knew it was going to be a slow haul, but in John Wall and Nene, the team had a solid core, along with a number of young players with the potential to develop into decent teammates. But of course, injuries have submarined the 2012 season from the jump, and the lone bright spot thus far has been the fact that Kevin Seraphin seems to have developed a nice offensive game.
Well, Grantland puts me in the Total Perspective Vortex today, assessing the young Frenchman's game as part of its "Fate Worse than Death" series, where writers report on meaningless NBA games:
Seraphin doesn't move particularly well and he kind of plays like the poor man's Brandon Bass, who kind of plays like the poor man's Carlos Boozer, who's several dozen poor men removed from Karl Malone. Still, Wizards fans are excited about him, and rightly so, I guess, because he has a soft touch and one real post move.
It hurts to read that, because I know it's true. I also know that there is scant hope of Jan Vesely, Bradley Beal or the other youngsters developing into anything other than NBA journeymen (and I wouldn't even bet on that) and that Nene and Wall's injuries loom as major obstacles to them becoming all stars, if that was even a possibility.
When you read team blogs and local press, you lose a little perspective on reality. It's nice, if painful, for an objective observer to reveal the illusions of your own confirmation bias, which prevents seeing things as they actually are. I'm not going to stop watching (yet) but I enjoyed watching Lebron send the Spurs home singlehandedly in the 4th Quarter last night on TNT. And I might seek out a little more quality in the many games on League Pass. But Wall is rumored to be two weeks away from the court, and supposedly he has developed a jump shot in the off-season...
I wrote earlier this week about Thanksgiving leftovers. With the last of our turkey (which I pulled and shredded, North Carolina style) I decided to make a mole sauce. I figured that if I kept the turkey separate, the OG could eat that, along with some plain corn, and that, by making the sauce vegetarian, I'd have something for the BG (turns out that, after tasting it, she asked for plain pasta, which was hanging around the fridge in case of just such an emergency). Not everything works, despite what television would have you believe. But Worldwide and I enjoyed it immensely nonetheless.
The recipe is inspired by a friend from Egypt; I left out the chicken, added corn and sweet potatoes (cooked separately), and substituted a package of hot chocolate mix for cocoa powder and molasses. It turned out beautifully, and I'll definitely make it again in the way I've set out below, although I might cook the vegetables and turkey right in the sauce after pureeing it, to make it easier. The sweet potatoes should be done in 15-20 minutes, the corn and turkey in 10. You can tell by tasting.
Vegetables in Mole Sauce
Heat 2 tbs oil in a large skillet. Saute 1 onion, chopped for 5 min over med/low heat until translucent. Add 3 cloves of garlic, minced, and saute for 30 seconds. Add 1 package hot chocolate mix, 1/2 tsp salt, 1 tsp cinnamon,1/2 tsp cumin, 1/2 tsp chipotle powder (or cayenne) 2 tsp. cider vinegar, 1 14.5 oz can chopped tomatoes, 1 cup stock (I used vegetable, the original calls for chicken) and 2 generous tbs peanut butter. Simmer for 45 minutes, until sauce is nice and thick (I actually added a little more water as the sauce got a little too dense). Puree in a blender, taste and add salt if needed.
Add 1 sweet potato, diced into small bites and boiled for ten minutes, along with 1/2 cup corn. Simmer for ten minutes and serve over rice, stirring in shreds of reheated turkey, as desired.
As I mentioned before, the book I'm reading with the BG's group is set in Michigan in 1963. Unsurprisingly, it has a lot more bullying and corporal punishment than today. Today, we talked about an incident where the older "delinquent" brother straightens his hair, something his parents have expressly forbidden. After the angry mother delivers the "Wait 'til your father gets home" admonition, the children get ready for the "whipping" the older brother is certain to receive.
As it turns out, the father shaves his son's head, rather than beating him, and there was much discussion of the appropriateness of his response. Amazingly to me, the kids seemed to think that it was measured and deserved. "What has happened to the righteous indignance of youth?" I wondered. The times they are a changin'.
Following on that thread, I told the students about discipline at St. Anne's, my elementary school in Windsor, Ontario. At St. Anne's, egregious misbehavior was rewarded with a trip to the Principal's office and the administering of a blow from "The Strap" a short, thick leather belt speckled with tiny nubs to enhance its, um, effectiveness. They were wide-eyed and rapt, and as I think about it, it's amazing that something that seems so weird now--misbehaving students were beaten by city employees--was just a natural part of life.
The book also involves a long family car trip, and we talked about games you can play to pass the time. I mentioned 20 questions, and the geography game, where each player must name a place that begins with the last letter of the previous location. One of the students taught me a related version, where each player must come up with a place and an occupation to go with their name: we all took a turn. "I am Brian from Brunei and I am a Book Group Leader" was my contribution.
We have pretty much given full control over the car radio to the Gs, which means flipping back and forth between the two pop stations in the hopes of finding one of the dozen or so songs of the moment. Amazingly, the stations generally do not disappoint; they seem to play the songs in heavy rotation about once every thirty minutes. In the course of two trips yesterday (school and the dentist) I heard the same Kesha and Pink song an unbelievable 8 times (3 for the former, 5 for the latter). That means that in a total of 45 minutes of car time, with 90 minutes of radio time (2 stations x 45 minutes) one of the songs was available for your aural pleasure about once every ten minutes. Hell in a handbasket, I tell ya.
Sadly, neither the classic rock nor the oldie goldie (if you know what I mean) stations are much better. I don't understand why technology hasn't made the algorithms more effective (or do people really want to sing along with Looking Glass every morning?) and this has forced me to take refuge in our three local college stations (NC State, Duke and Shaw) which, although they don't play much that I actually care for, at least offer lots of variety.
One of the reasons I started this blog was to memorialize the joys, humor and challenges of dealing with kids every day. The BG turns 11 today, and I'm afraid there just isn't as much going on as there was 5 years ago. Not much drama, less comedy, just life going forward, more at her pace every day.
That's not a complaint, mind you, but perhaps it's time for her to start blogging.
Slate makes the case against Thanksgiving leftover recipes, opining that although turkey is an inferior bird (you never see it on restaurant menus, and it only seems to get consumed outside the holiday in a sandwich or a burger) we are willing to accept it one day a year for reasons of tradition, but should not otherwise let it darken our plates.
I guess that I would counter that the leftovers have become part of that tradition, and maybe that makes up for some gastronomic shortcomings. It also gives us an excuse to eat more gravy, which seems equally worthy of celebration.
Over the last few years, I've developed a simple version of Turkey pot pie, which simply involves layering leftovers in a pie plate (including gravy and cranberry sauce), covering the dish with a pie crust and baking the mess at 400 for 30 minutes or so. Maybe it's not haute cuisine, but it's pretty tasty, plus it provides a sensory cue to the conviviality of the holiday just past. It's come to be something we look forward to.
Last night, armed with resealable tubs of turkey and vegetarian cornbread stuffing from our Wisconsin holiday, I made a bottom crust by combining the stuffing and melted butter, and pressing it into the dish. I sauteed some carrots and onions in butter, and added them to the dish, along with some of the leftover turkey, which I had shredded and diced. I then made some gravy with butter, flour, white wine, chicken stock and a handful of thyme from the herb garden, pouring a little into the dish and saving the rest to ladle on top of the finished product. I covered the leftovers with a pie crust, cut a couple of slits for venting, and slid it into the oven. I made a salad while it was baking (as well as a hot dog and a veggie dog for the Gs), and voila. You can tell me all you want how turkey is inferior, but you can't wipe the smile from my face as I was finishing the pie for breakfast this morning.
No more turkey hash, turkey tetrazzini, turkey a la king.
I got a dose of a failure to absorb changes in scholarship and human knowledge when I pointed out a brontosaurus in the OG's colouring book a decade ago. "It's an apatosaurus, dad." she declared.
In a review of a recent book, The Half-Life of Facts, the WSJ reveals that spinach is not the iron-delivery powerhouse that mothers everywhere and longtime Popeye fans had thought:
In 1870, German chemist Erich von Wolf analyzed the iron content of green vegetables and accidentally misplaced a decimal point when transcribing data from his notebook. As a result, spinach was reported to contain a tremendous amount of iron—35 milligrams per serving, not 3.5 milligrams (the true measured value). While the error was eventually corrected in 1937, the legend of spinach's nutritional power had already taken hold, one reason that studio executives chose it as the source of Popeye's vaunted strength.
Another argument to stop memorizing stuff and focus instead on how to find the information when you need it. Call it cloud-based learning, if you want to package it for sale.
The ecosystem for the distribution and consumption of books is complicated. Between the library, independent and secondhand bookstores, Amazon and e-books, there is a lot of competition for my patronage. I get most of my reading material from 5 sources:
Once I've decided to buy something, I have a formula for acquiring it. If it's available in the library, I get it there. If it's a new book not yet in the collection, I buy the hardcover at the new bookstore in our neighbourhood and then donate it to the library. If the bookstore doesn't have it, I order it from Amazon, only getting the e-book if the price seems right (Kindle prices are too high right now, in my opinion).
If it's an older book and not available at the library, I'll order the cheapest version from one of the many secondhand sellers on Amazon, and then then donate it to the PTA thrift shop, where you can usually observe several entrepreneurially minded people scanning titles with their phones to determine if there is a market for them.
That's a pretty virtuous circle, I think, of supporting public goods, local business and advancing technology. Next on my list is Nassim Taleb's new book, which has been on the horizon for a few years (I heard him talk about it with Russ Roberts when we were still in Egypt. His first two books, Fooled by Randomness and the Black Swan changed the way I think about things, and reviews of the new one in Farnam Street and the Economist suggest that this one will too. The Farnam Street piece links to a WSJ article, which sets out some basic principles from the book. My favourite: "The economy is more like a cat than a washing machine."
It comes out next week. The BG and I popped into the bookstore to order it last Wednesday, after a delightful dinner at the restaurant next door (Butternut squash gnocchi for her, onion soup and duck confit for me) while Worldwide was in DC and the OG was at a school event, and she picked up the latest edition of the Popularity Papers, a series that she can't get enough of lately.
Today's Times has an Op-ed piece about annoying hipsters whose dialogue is comprised wholly of sarcastic jokes and pop culture references. "How awful." Worldwide commented. "True that, Schleprock." I thought, arching an eyebrow to substitute for civil discourse.
Cider has been a big star around the house this month. The Gs like it hot and cold, and I've also made mulled wine for Worldwide, combining cider and red wine in equal parts, with some mulling spices (cinnamon, allspice, cloves, nutmeg), a little brown sugar and lemon juice in a pot and heating it through.
Yesterday we made a delicious berry mango smoothie with a cider base, and today I made a very nice carrot and sweet potato soup for lunch, which we enjoyed with grilled cheese sandwiches on the honey wheat bread I made yesterday. I finished the soup (this version was vegetarian for the BG, but you could use chicken stock instead) with a little cider and lemon juice, and the results were, I venture, worth sharing.
Saute 1 large onion, chopped in olive oil over med/low heat for about 5 minutes, until translucent. Add 3 carrots, chopped into small pieces, and saute for 3 more minutes. Add 2 cloves of garlic, minced, and a marble size piece of ginger, minced, and saute for 30 seconds. Add 4 cups of vegetable stock, a couple of pinches of salt, a pinch of cayenne and a tbs of orange zest. Simmer for ten minutes, until the carrots are tender.
Puree the soup in a blender. Return puree to pot and add 2 carrots and 1 sweet potato, peeled and sliced into bite size pieces. Simmer for ten minutes until the potatoes and carrots are tender. Add 1/2 cup of cider, a splash of lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste.
Hey Hipsters, remember when Pebbles and Bamm Bamm had their own show?
I mentioned before that the BG's dream lunch includes vegetable maki, and I'll buy the grocery store version--which is seaweed-encased rice wrapped around cucumber and avocado--once in a while, for a special lunch. or as a vegetarian-friendly supplement to barbecued chicken or some such carnivore-centred meal.
The thing is that an eight pack of vegetable maki costs $6.99. I know it's relatively labor intensive (they have a sushi guy on staff) but that seems like some expensive rice and cucumbers! Last week I thought about making my own version. It looks elegant and complicated, but is it? After looking at a few videos, particularly this one from the makers of our house brand soy sauce, I decided to give it a try, ignoring an admonition from Worldwide that the technique might be a little too precise for a man of my slapdash approach in the kitchen. I bought a bamboo sushi mat at the local kitchen store for $3 and ventured across the street to the supermarket, wondering if they would have the ingredients I needed. I knew they would have carrots, cucumbers and rice vinegar. But pickled ginger, wasabi, sushi rice and nori (pressed, roasted seaweed)? You bet. The most interesting thing about my shopping list was that the nori was made in China and distributed by a British Company, which appears to serve North Carolina. Welcome to the twenty first century supermarket.
Ingredients and Final Product
Making the sushi rice is easy. It needs a little less water than your Uncle Ben, but it's otherwise the same process. I put it in the fridge to cool, and, when it was ready, I laid out my mat and the seaweed. I moistened the rice with a couple of splashes of rice vinegar, and spread it out on the seaweed mat, leaving space at the top for sealing the roll. I added some carrot and cucumber matchsticks to the middle and rolled it up. The rolling is a little tricky, but I'm getting better each time. The photo below actually doesn't look as nice as my first try. This is because I tried in this case using only half a sheet of seaweed and didn't leave myself enough cushion for proper containment.
Now that I understand the basics, the possibilities are endless, and I will soon discover why no-one's wrapping everything in sushi rice and seaweed. BLT rolls? ground lamb? dal? Am I a visionary on the edge of a culinary revolution, or a kucklehead on the verge of some peanut-butter-cup-smoothie-type disasters? I suspect the latter, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't find out the hard way.
Last week, I read Ryan Holiday's Trust Me, I'm Lying: Confessions of a Media Manipulator. I enjoyed and recommend it, but its Inside Baseball portrayal of media and the blogosphere made me look at the Internet and the news (including the stuff I consume) in a more critical light. The pressures to be first and interesting are so intense that the truth gets lost in the scramble for page clicks; we're not necessarily more informed by the presence of more information.
On a related note, David Simon weighs in on the Petraeus affair and the hypocrisy of the press and the citizenry. (Warning: It's not as profane as the Wire, but it ain't Tom Friedman either.)
The BG decided she would rather read for half an hour rather than watch the first quarter of the Wizards/Bobcats game last night--a scathing indictment of our favourite NBA team--so the OG and I settled in. The Wizards began with good ball movement, and even though they are clearly a mediocre team missing their two best players (neither of whom can truly be called a star), when I carried her up to bed (a labor that is considerably more difficult with a thirteen year old than it was a decade ago) it looked like they might have a chance to win their first game of the season. Sadly, this was not to be, and the second half degenerated into a dog's breakfast of bad shooting, mediocre defense and hero ball. In his Grantland article this morning, NBA writer Zach Lowe cites the "resignation of Wizards broadcaster Steve Buckhantz" as one of the ten things he likes/doesn't like about the NBA season so far:
...his beaten-down tone can be an honest godsend on another miserable night of Wizards basketball ... and you almost wonder if he just wants to put his head down and let the game go on without him sometimes.
This would be funny, if not for its poignancy. Maybe it is, since it's only a game after all. But nevertheless, it's going to be another long season.
In honor of casting this week for the BG's school musical and loyal reader G-Lo's newfound appreciation for Schoolhouse Rock, this weeks' songs will draw inspiration from the beloved series. Here's today's SOTD:
This, is the end of slumber;
Yes it is. It's the end of slumber.
6:50. You know what that means.
You have got to get up; Pronto.
Tuesday morn; Big D sounds the horn.
Come on down for breakfast; right now.
Allen Dulles, former director of the CIA, had hundreds of affairs. It wasn't considered newsworthy nor thought to interfere with his job. The Times reports the changing times.
In a wide-ranging CSPAN interview, Malcolm Gladwell suggests Pierre Trudeau. I can't think of a better one. He also says that he fears overconfidence more than incompetence in a leader. An excellent accompaniment to raking, with the conversion assistance of listentoyoutube.com
One of the most important and influential books written in the past half-century, Robert M. Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is a powerful, moving, and penetrating examination of how we live . . . and a breathtaking meditation on how to live better. Here is the book that transformed a generation: an unforgettable narration of a summer motorcycle trip across America's Northwest, undertaken by a father and his young son. A story of love and fear -- of growth, discovery, and acceptance -- that becomes a profound personal and philosophical odyssey into life's fundamental questions, this uniquely exhilarating modern classic is both touching and transcendent, resonant with the myriad confusions of existence . . . and the small, essential triumphs that propel us forward.
Looks interesting.
Update
G-Lo weighs in on Orhan Pamuk:
A note about Orhan Pamuk -- I've read Snow a couple of times for the Star Island book group and "Museum of Innocence" for the library book group, and I've just read "Birds Without Wings" for a narrative of the rise of the Turkish Republic.
The OG and I talk a lot about the lameness of school. Mostly I try to present the other side--why tests are important; why geometry matters, etc.--but sometimes her points are hard to counter. I'm no fan of homeschooling, but over the past decade I've come increasingly to believe that the primary function of public school is as a place to park kids while parents work, rather than a temple of learning. There are obvious economic benefits to that, but at the same time, academic performance is so inextricably tied to college admission that it is important (even if it's not determinative) to encourage kids to do well according to the standards of doing well. How to balance the fact that a lot of what is being learned is not useful with the idea that there is no better predictor of future prosperity than academic performance?
And why memorize facts when Siri is always by my side? It's a good question, and Douglas Thomas, a USC professor of communications thinks that schools should spur creativity rather than transfer knowledge. I listened to his "Big Ideas" podcast while I began the Augean labor of raking the leaves in our Sylvan (and I use that term with bitter irony) domicile. It's not a great talk (unlike some of the others in the series) but it does make you question the disproportionate value of standardized tests and the longevity of colleges (I'm looking at you law schools!) as credentialing institutions when there are clearly better ways to prepare for a career.
The OG and I talked about this on the way over to dance class this afternoon, and I predicted that her children will not take the SATs, or if they do, they will be significantly different than the current version. Is 2030 too fast for dramatic changes in the hidebound world of education?
The other day I was explaining to the BG that, when I was her age, before the Cartoon Network and the DVR ushered in the era of on-demand viewing, the only time that I could watch cartoons was Saturday morning, the most magical time of the week.
Part of Saturday mornings on ABC was the beloved Schoolhouse Rock, a series of short animations teaching math, grammar and history with music and humor. I bought the DVD for the OG when she was 5, and she spent a lot of time with it, a devotion that was rewarded last week, when one of her teachers promised extra credit to anyone who could sing the preamble to the Constitution in the melody from the show. Of course, like me, it is so ingrained in her head that she could manage it without any practice.
The series was made into a musical about ten years ago, and, as luck would have it, it's the show that the BG's school is putting on this year. She sang "Unpack your Adjectives" for her audition, and was rewarded with a callback, where she was asked to sing "Interjections," perhaps the best known of all.
The cartoons, all three minutes long, contain a perfect blend of humor and melody, while at the same time imparting knowledge without being in any way didactic. Some are better than others, and I confess that I had largely outgrown cartoons in the late 1970s when the Science and Computer Rock series debuted. But nevertheless, I think it's wonderful that an important part of my childhood has assumed an even more prominent role in the lives of my daughters. Indubitably, as father, son and Lolly would say.
Preliminary feedback on the book from my reading group is generally positive, but nothing special. To take the pulse of pre-teen culture and learn more about the group's members, I asked them to name their favourite book of the last two years. Here are the answers:
In the hallway outside the BG's class, each student has done a newspaper, which contains information about who the students are and what they like. One of the feature stories is "My Hero." The BG's entry reads as follows:
My Grandma is really awesome! I get to stay at her summer house for two weeks, She taught me how to play bridge, vacuum, make a pickle plate and lots of other things! I hope to be like her when I'm older.
The likeness is not bad either, although it appears to be missing a nose.
One of the things that the OG has convinced me of over the last couple of years is that young people should be allowed to vote. Reading the issues advanced by a passel of sixth graders in yesterday's Times not only reinforces that belief, but it makes me think that the more long-term views of thirteen year-olds might temper the shrillness of the baby boomers, who seem more concerned about making sure that no-one touches any of the benefits they believe they are entitled to in their twilight years than on the prospects for future generations. On the environment and long-term fiscal sustainability, I suspect that enfranchising sixth through twelfth graders might very well force the candidates to work a little harder on the "vision thing" and that the nation would benefit overall.
Listening to a couple of retirees argue competing conspiracy theories in the library last night (much to the dismay of the librarians and patrons) makes me think that such a move would not have a meaningful effect on the intelligence of the electorate in any direction other than positive, or at worst, neutral.
Recently, I volunteered to lead one of the reading groups in the BG's class. This involves leading a weekly thirty minute discussion of a book chosen by the group from a set deemed appropriate for the reading level of its members (3 boys and 2 girls).
I drew the most advanced group, probably because it includes the BG. This means that I will have no trouble making sure that the kids do their assigned reading, or in eliciting opinions. The book we are starting with is The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963, by Christopher Paul Curtis, who by chance, is a Michigan-based writer who appears to live in Windsor, Ontario, where I was born (He even thanks the Windsor Public Library in the book!).
The book, which I suspect has the goal of sneaking a history lesson into a good story, recounts the trip of a sitcom-ready family from Flint to Birmingham. Here's the synopsis from Amazon:
The year is 1963, and self-important Byron Watson is the bane of his younger brother Kenny's existence. Constantly in trouble for one thing or another, from straightening his hair into a "conk" to lighting fires to freezing his lips to the mirror of the new family car, Byron finally pushes his family too far. Before this "official juvenile delinquent" can cut school or steal change one more time, Momma and Dad finally make good on their threat to send him to the deep south to spend the summer with his tiny, strict grandmother. Soon the whole family is packed up, ready to make the drive from Flint, Michigan, straight into one of the most chilling moments in America's history: the burning of the Sixteenth Avenue Baptist Church with four little girls inside.
When I asked my group why they had chosen this book, the consensus answer was that it was the only book none of them had read that looked funny. I assigned the first two chapters last week, and my initial take on the writing is that it is middling. The humor seems a little contrived (particularly the scene where an older brother gets his tongue stuck to a car's side mirror--an episode presented much more humorously in A Christmas Story:
We'll have our fist discussion on Thursday, and I'll report back if there's anything interesting that comes out of it
Too many times in the last few years, after finishing a book whose purchased was inspired by an author's magazine or newspaper article on the same subject, I've come away feeling like the consumption of 400 pages and a week of reading time didn't add anything to the topic.
This is one of the reasons why I have high hopes that the "Single" format--short e-books at lower prices--might free authors from the shackles of publishing conventions. I've happily paid $5 for The Rent is too Damn High ,The Great Stagnation, Launching the Innovation Renaissance and Race Against the Machine in the last two years, and felt like each was just the right length (and price). In contrast, Future Perfect, which I just finished, while interesting, seemed to go on forever, and I couldn't wait for it to end.
I don't read a lot of fiction, but I have found a number of the novels that I've read to not provide a satisfying return on the temporal investment required for their consumption. Ian Mcewan has a piece in The New Yorker making essentially the same point, advocating for more novellas in the world:
I believe the novella is the perfect form of prose fiction. It is the beautiful daughter of a rambling, bloated ill-shaven giant (but a giant who’s a genius on his best days).
I'm hopeful that the rise of e-books and self-publishing are powerful forces to aid this transition, and that many of the 400 page books priced at $30 will be replaced by slim volumes at lower prices. I think that this would be a victory for both art and markets.
Worldwide and I voted today. We've voted early (can "earlyvoted" be far behind in the lexicon?) a couple of times now, and I've always been amazed at how empty the polls are. It seems like a waste of resources, although I suppose all of the workers volunteer their time. It's efficient, but it does little to restore your faith in the power of democracy.
Looking at the ballot today, I was amazed at how little I knew about the candidates for local office. Radio and television has been full of presidential and gubernatorial advertising, and the proposal to fund transit initiatives has garnered lots of coverage in the local newspaper, but we have received no literature, canvassing visits, or really anything, from anyone. The only thing I had to go on were the recommendations of the Independent Weekly (a local paper, which is hardly my ideological soulmate--skewing a little too young and radical for me). I struggled with the choices, before finally deciding only to cast votes in races that I knew something about--and I have to say, that as a relatively well-informed person (I think anyway) I fear that there is an awful lot of voting either along party lines, or based on flimsy rationales. Such behavior does not inspire me; it seems a little too tribal, more like Rwandans in the 90s working assiduously to determine if someone was hutu or tutsi in order to know whether to embrace them or slaughter them, than proper civics.
Last week's Economist has an article about Internet voting, and its increasing use around the world. Reading it, it occurred to me that it would be great to be able to see each candidate's "elevator speech" as part of the ballot, or if that proved unworkable, on one website. Though I lean Democratic, I can't bring myself to vote a straight ticket, and, even though I don't much care who our lieutenant governor will be, I'd love to give each candidate 90 seconds to convince me that it does matter. And if I could do that at my desk, so much the better.
Most people don't vote, and most voters know very little about the bulk of the choices on the ballot. Come on people, we can do better than this. Government of the people, by the people, for the people is important, at every level, and yet everyone seems too busy congratulating themselves to think about what seem to be huge and fixable flaws in the system.
Last night was Halloween, of course. The Gs had decorated the yard with spider webs a week ago, and I hung the ghost on the door, connected our "spooky" lights (2 ghosts and two jack o'lanterns) and carved the BG's pumpkin, per her design, which was, thankfully, a simple two oval eyes and a giant, gaping maw.
I also prepared the OG's pumpkin for carving, but, by the time she got home from the football game, it was time to get into costume and go, so I didn't bring it up.
The BG wore an Internet-enabled honeybee costume, while the OG was a Rockette, resplendent in vintage-store dress and high, white go-go boots.
After the Gs went off with friends and neighbours to terrorize the nearby houses, Worldwide, Sarah and I had dinner and received a trickle of trick-or-treaters.
Katniss Everdeen, from the Hunger Games, was the most popular costume, and the most creative number was a s'more, complete with graham-cracker head. But the costume of the night, goes to a girl of about 12. When she arrived at the door,the buns on each side of her head were a dead giveaway, and I quickly identified her as Princess Leia, from the Star Wars movies.
"No!" she admonished me defiantly. "I'm Ada Lovelace. She was a Victorian mathematician. You could look it up." And indeed I have.
Turns out that she was the daughter of Lord Byron, born in 1815, and, after being identified as a math wiz, she began work with Charles Babbage, the founder of modern computing, and the source of the name for the Economist's technology blog.
Today, we celebrate her on Ada Lovelace day, which I now know is October 16th, whose goal is to "raise the profile of women in science, technology, engineering and maths." She is also the inspiration (or symbol, perhaps) for the Ada Initiative, an NGO, dedicated to increasing the participation and status of women in technology .
Not a bad person for a girl to look up to. And, I now realize, an excellent likeness.
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