What Would Jimmy Do?

Still sorting through lots of old books that we and the kids accumulated over the years. A few days ago, I ran across a book of riddles that one of the kids must have had years ago, and as luck, or fate, would have it it was on top of Homer’s Odyssey. That was probably required reading for one or both of our kids in school. I thought it was curious that these books happened to be together.

I don’t know if you remember, but there is very little known about Homer, the (supposed) author of the two epic poems (The Iliad and the Odyssey) other than he was a Greek poet and he wrote about heroes who fought battles, had amazing adventures and struggled with gods. 

Homer’s Odyssey is about a king’s long journey home after the Trojan War and the masters, magic, and seductive enchantresses he faced. But the fact that the two books were stacked together was curious to me because legend has it that Homer killed himself in frustration because he couldn’t answer a simple riddle. The riddle in question was spoken by Greek fishermen: “What we caught we threw away. What we didn’t catch, we kept.” According to the story, Homer couldn’t figure it out, and it drove him to suicide. The story might not be true, but apparently the ancient Greeks were really fascinated by riddles. The word comes from a Greek root meaning “to give advice.”

After doing a little checking, I found that riddles haven’t always been for children — a lot of ancient cultures took their riddles very seriously. Apparently the Babylonians believed that riddles could teach. The oldest riddles that have been found were preserved on an ancient Babylonian clay tablet that probably served as a schoolbook. 

Riddles also appear in the Islamic Koran, the Indian Vedas, and the ancient oral traditions of most cultures. Something like a riddle — koans — is used in Zen Buddhism to demonstrate the inadequacy of logical reasoning and to provide enlightenment. An example is “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” There is no logical answer to a koan. It’s just supposed to open up your mind. 

I suppose the most most famous riddle in the world is “Why did the chicken cross the road ?” But one that’s pretty famous is the Riddle of the Sphinx. The Sphinx was a dangerous creature with the head of a human, the body of a lion, and the wings of an eagle. She prowled the countryside looking for trouble. She asked the same riddle of every human she met and if you couldn’t answer the riddle, she ate you. What was the riddle? “What goes on four feet in the morning, two feet in midday, and three feet in the evening?”  Now — here’s the interesting part of the story….The only person who answered the riddle correctly was Oedipus Rex, the king who married his mother (but he didn’t know she was his mother) and poked his own eyes out when he found out. As for the Sphinx, once somebody answered correctly, she killed herself. A big relief for a lot of people, I imagine. 

Today we think of riddles mostly for children, but obviously that hasn’t always been the case. I guess it’s a good thing our minds don’t work in the same way the ancients’ did. 

In case you haven’t been able to come up with the answers to the riddles, here they are:
The answer to the riddle that stumped Homer — What did the fishermen keep? Lice, which they already had. The Riddle of the Sphinx — the answer is “a man” — who crawls at the beginning of life, walks upright in mid-life, and walks with a cane in old age.
You’re welcome.
— 30 —

I went to brunch at some friends house a few days ago and after we ate, a couple of us were discussing some work at our church and the topic turned to “rules.” Everyone agreed that maybe there are too many rules and half the time no one really knows why the rule came into existence in the first place. 

But, the fact is the world is full of rules and seems like there are more being created every day. And if you think about it, we all grew up with a fair amount of pressure to “follow the rules.” We were told such things as “no orange elephants,” and “don’t color outside the lines.” The educational system encourages rule-following. Students are usually better rewarded for regurgitating information than for coming up with new ideas and thinking originally. So we’ve just become more comfortable following the rules than challenging them. 

I guess in practical everyday living, that makes sense. In order to function in our society you have to follow all kinds of rules. You can’t shout in a library, or cry out “fire” in a theater or cheat on your income tax. 
The problem with all that is if you’re trying to generate new ideas, then “follow the rules” can be a mental block because it means basically, “think about things only as they are.” 

Playing the revolutionary is easier said than done. I was never accused of being a “yes man,” and often questioned ideas presented at meetings or the way certain things were done. Over the years, I was mostly criticized for my attitude. But after I’d been working for a number of years, I was called in to by boss’s office one day and I figured I was in some kind of trouble. But he was very nice and he told me that one of his most difficult tasks was getting his people to challenge the rules. We had a nice talk and he complimented me for questioning a lot of the “rules.” He told me one of his favorite quotes was — “If you don’t ask “why this?” often enough, somebody will ask “why you?”
That meeting made an impression on me and I never felt bad again about questioning things.
— 30 —

I went into a store yesterday and I noticed one of the clerks was wearing a shirt with a pocket and he had pocket protector. It looked like he had about 3 or 4 pens or pencils in his pocket. I realized that, one — a lot of people don’t wear shirts with pockets so much anymore, they prefer T-shirts or polo shirts and two — you almost never see anyone with a pocket protector. 

When I was growing up, there weren’t, of course any iPhones or laptops — men used mechanical pencils and fountain pens or ball-point pens and they didn’t carry purses. Only executives carried briefcases, so pencils/pens were carried in their shirt pockets. Fairly often, the pencil lead would color the bottom of the shirt pocket or the pens would leak and ruin the shirt.

I imagine those were the reasons that shirt protectors were invented. The guys that wore those protectors were typically engineers, draftsmen or maybe even people like accountants. They looked kind of geeky or nerdy back then — even before there were “geeks” and “nerds.” At some point around the time when computers became more ubiquitous, pocket protectors fell out of favor and became things to be made fun of, as well as the guys that wore them. 

Pocket protectors became a great platform for advertising — lots of companies gave their employees protectors with their company logo imprinted on them and they were popular to hand out at trade fairs, and events like that. There is even a Pocket Protector Preservation Society. 

The National Academy of Engineering hosted an event in 2000 where they presented their list of the Greatest Engineering Achievements of the 20th Century. Neil Armstrong attended and during his speech, said, “I am, and ever will be, a white-socks, pocket-protector, nerdy engineer.” I’m not sure if he was wearing his pocket-protector when he stepped foot on the Moon, but I’m sure he gave all the engineers still wearing theirs some sense of professional pride….. 
— 30 —

This is another one of these self-therapy sessions for myself. Feel free to just skip over it.

The weather around here is finally beginning to get warm. I have always hated winter — this year it was just especially bad… maybe because it just matched my mood — cold, dark and isolated. I guess in some ways, there’s some sense of comfort in that. During the winter, I’m not out as much and not around other people as much. Maybe that’s a good thing because I don’t think I’ve been especially good company recently.

But now spring is coming and it presents me with a whole new set of issues — I feel like I should get out more and do things, but that involves being around more people. Spring is supposed to make you feel better and find new hope. But actually I don’t and it’s an effort to hide my true feelings. This thing called grief doesn’t go away just because the seasons change. 

A friend offered to come over and help me do “spring cleaning” by helping me sort through all of Claire’s things — things that remind me of her. Her theory is that once I do that, I’ll be able to move on and “get back to normal.” I find it interesting (and annoying) when everybody knows when it’s time for me to get back to living.

But here’s the thing…. spring is a time of rebirth and renewal. The trees get their leaves, and flowers come up, and birds start singing. People spend more time outside — it’s like the whole world wakes up.
But — for me it doesn’t seem like a season of rebirth or renewal. Sunnier and warmer days don’t simply wash away the way I feel. I don’t look forward to trying to ease back into the world along with everyone else.

I think I’ve learned that with grief, there isn’t any predetermined list that you have to work through — it’s like the seasons…. It comes and it goes, and it just keeps cycling over and over. I don’t know if it ever stops.
— 30 —

I’ve written about this before, but today is one of those holidays or festivals that we always celebrated. Obviously I’m not Chinese and Claire wasn’t Chinese, but we’ve spent a fair amount of time in that part of the world and we always found that these Chinese holidays were invariably interesting and always seeped in tradition. Today, April 4 is Qīngmíng jié — the Tomb Sweeping Festival. It takes place every year on the 15th day after the Spring Equinox — this year it’s April 4th.

Qīngmíng Festival is also called Tomb Sweeping Day because it is the time for Chinese people to show respect to their ancestors by cleaning their ancestors’ tombs and placing offerings. 
Qīngmíng in Chinese means “clearness” and “brightness.”

Celebrating the Qīngmíng Festival has two halves, equally balanced between sadness and happiness, death and rebirth. Qīngmíng is generally observed quietly among family by visiting the gravesites of relatives and enjoying the outdoors. It’s a really nice time to fondly share stories about ancestors — Chinese or not. That’s the way we usually celebrated it. 
— 30 —

I’ve decided that trying to convince extremists is a total waste of time. Even if you are able to brilliantly argue your point until the end of time, all you’re going to get out of it is the satisfaction that you think you’ve won the argument and possibly an alienated relationship. 
Just don’t fool yourself that if you argue well enough, you’ll change someone’s mind.
That doesn’t work with extremists.
— 30 —

If you’ve been reading the news lately (if you haven’t I don’t blame you) you know there’s been a bit of “controversy” over the choices to fill cabinet positions and other high-level government jobs. The interviews before congress has left me wondering about some of their responses. After reading about some of the choices to fill these positions and their views on various subjects, and some of their backgrounds and rhetoric, it makes me wonder if this has always been the type of people seeking higher political offices.

In the past few years there’s been a lot of comparisons between several U.S. “politicians” and the rise of the Third Reich in Germany. I thought I’d do some extensive research on those that came to power in Germany in the early 1930s. 

In January 1933, Adolf Hitler, a popular German politician who had launched his career in the beer halls of Munich, reached the top of German government. He was known for inflammatory speeches and for his stances against Jews and Communists.
It’s said that Hitler’s inner circle were the most powerful leaders in the Nazi Party and that it was a finely balanced team of military commanders, administrative leaders and Ministers of the Nazi Party.
But if you look not too far below the surface, it appears that when Hitler assembled his henchmen to help him run the Third Reich, he chose an assortment of losers and failures that represented the bottom rungs of German society. Let’s check out some of that “inner circle.”

Joseph Goebbels — Propaganda master for Nazi Germany with control over all news media, arts and information. He was named in Hitler’s final will, as his official successor. But — although Goebbels propaganda machine praised the perfect Nordic physique, Goebbels himself had a physical disability — a clubfoot so badly twisted that it kept him out of World War I. In the university, Goebbels’ favorite professors were Jews and he was once engaged to a Jewish woman. After he graduated he tried (unsuccessfully) to make a living as a writer before drifting into the Nazi party. In hindsight, his Nazi career can be seen as a desperate overcompensation for his physical shortcoming. 

Rudolph Hess — (Deputy Fuhrer) was born in Alexandria, Egypt and didn’t actually live in Germany until he was 14. Most Nazis started their careers as losers and achieved some sort of career satisfaction by successfully wreaking havoc, but Hess’s career went the other way. His reputation was cemented when he went to prison, voluntarily, to be with his Fuhrer. As his largely ceremonial powers began to recede, he hoped to gain favor with a strange peace mission to Scotland that ended with him being locked in the Tower of London.

Martin Bormann — Head of the Nazi Party Chancellery (a role previously called Deputy Fuhrer until Hess defected and Bormann replaced him with the new title.) He was Hitler’s Personal Private Secretary, controlling all information passed to and from Hitler and controller of all personal access to Hitler. But Bormann has one of the flimsiest resumes of any of the Nazis. A school dropout who worked briefly as a farm laborer, Bormann very briefly served in an artillery regiment during World War I, then went straight into far-right politics — or more exactly, far-right violence. He joined a group of disgruntled former soldiers who spent their time attacking Communists. He even helped murder his former elementary school teacher and served a year in prison. 

Hermann Göring — Commander-in Chief or the Luftwaffe (German Air Force,) founder of the Gestapo in 1933, Minister of the Economic Four Year Plan, and designated by Hitler as his successor and second in command. Goring, a well-bred war hero, was the closest the Nazis came to respectability. He once even succeeded the Red Baron (von Richthofen) as leader of his flying aces. But his personal life was marred by scandal — he lured a Swedish baroness to divorce her husband and marry him and after the attempted government overthrow, he was badly injured in “the groin” and became addicted to morphine. He also became monstrously obese.

So from what I can tell, Hitler put together his team of henchmen to help him run the Third Reich, by choosing an assortment of losers and failures that represented the bottom rungs of German society.
I keep hearing that history repeats itself — I don’t know if that’s true, but I hope not…..
“Evil is unspectacular and always human
And shares our bed and eats at our own table.”
~ W. H. Auden
— 30 —

Many, many years ago I was TDY to help open a diplomatic facility in a really remote part of the world. It was probably only my third or fourth trip outside the United States and it was by far the most underdeveloped area I’d ever been to. The chief of the facility and his wife had arrived a few days before I did. The Marine Guards that were assigned there had also just arrived and the Seabees had been there for a few weeks overseeing the construction of the hew compound, 

After I’d been there a couple of weeks, the facility chief’s wife announced that in a few days it would be her husband’s birthday and he had never had a birthday party. Well, that was all any of us needed to take a little break from work. But — as I said, this was by far the most underdeveloped place I’d ever been and in such a place coming up with suitable gifts presented a challenge. For the party, we all colored on paper “tablecloths” with crayons and came up with a few games to play. But the gifts were what I’d have to say were very creative and really made the party. There were the usual nonsense gifts, but someone came up with a large donkey and the birthday boy also received a ram, with really big horns — a gift from the Seabees, I suppose, because their mascot is a ram. But maybe the best gift was a big, ugly camel — from the Marine Guards. 

These unique gifts made the party even better, because we all got to ride the donkey and camel and a few people even tried to wrestle the ram. Thinking back, it was probably the best birthday party I’ve ever been to. And if there was ever any doubt, it made me realize I had fallen into a job that I could never have imagined and would provide memories forever. 

Some years later I was told that the camel was returned to the Marines and they sold it and used the proceeds to fund their Marine Ball. I’m not sure what happened to the donkey or ram or the other “gifts.”
— 30 —

The news lately has brought back a number of memories of various “foreigners” that I’ve had dealings with over the years. Some I’ve been able to help and others, for one reason or another, I couldn’t. One incident I’ll never forget happened in the early 70’s — I remember it like it was yesterday…..

It was a rainy night — I was to meet someone at a particular restaurant. When I arrived, I stood across the street and looked at the restaurant — I could see a few heads in the window, eating and drinking and it looked a bit smoky because most everyone smoked back then. I waited because the person I was meeting didn’t appear to be inside. But then a small Asian man wearing a cheap windbreaker came walking down the street from the direction of the bus stop and went into the restaurant. I waited for about five minutes — a few people came by, but it looked clear. There didn’t appear to be any surveillance so I crossed the street and went into the restaurant.

He was at a table by the back wall, still wearing his wet jacket. He smiled when he saw me — he was smoking, but hadn’t ordered a drink… probably because he couldn’t afford it. We shook hands and talked about the weather and family. His wife and children were fine, but he didn’t have heat or air conditioning or running water in his two room “house.” I asked if he wanted coffee — he asked for tea. We sipped our drinks and smiled at each other. 

I pointed to the menu and motioned for a bored-looking waiter. But he said the food could wait — he had to know the answer… it was important to him. Had we found him a job — a job that would give him what his alien status couldn’t. A chance to earn a salary, to be the breadwinner in his family and to earn his neighbors respect. A steady job was all he wanted in return for his help with our mission. Just paying him wasn’t the same thing — didn’t I understand that? I did, but I couldn’t tell him the truth — that my management thought he was of poor moral character.

My superiors agreed that, of course, we had an obligation to “defectors” but we had done more than enough for him years ago, even though he still had certain potential. No — all I could say was I couldn’t help him with a job. We stared at one another for what seemed like forever. Thank you, he said and carefully put out his cigarette. He pushed his tea cup away, stood up and wished me a good evening. He went out the restaurant door without looking back — out into the rain.

I sat and finished my coffee. The waiter came over and asked me if I’d like to order now. I just asked for the check, pointing to the drinks. Then I walked out — into the rain.
— 30 —

I’ve mentioned here before that the last year we lived in Manilla, we moved into a house. We previously lived in an old apartment building in the older part of town. But we needed to move because an earthquake damaged our apartment pretty severely.

For some reason, the house we originally were to move into suddenly wasn’t available, so the embassy rented another house. The house belonged to a doctor and he had moved to a new house a couple of months earlier — and — he had left all his furniture. He had apparently bought all new furniture along with his new house.
Since the embassy was providing all our furniture, they asked that all the furniture be removed and also requested that the interior be painted before we moved in. I guess the doctor agreed to that, 

When our moving day came, I was on a short trip and Claire went to see our new house and found that the inside had all been newly painted, but apparently the painters came before the old furniture was removed and they had simply painted around each piece of furniture. No one could understand why that would be a problem for Claire — never mind that the embassy provided furniture didn’t quite fit in the right spaces.I still remember that phone call I got from her. She told me that she had moved in and I asked how she liked it. She said something like, “It’s different — you’ll probably have to see it to believe it….”
— 30 —