Sunday, August 22, 2004
The good people from Time Warner Cable will be at our apartment Wednesday evening to connect up Road Runner. Like a watering can to dusty pods, Internet access from home is sure to perk things up around here.
Until then, this:
At the SU info fair on Thursday, I picked up a copy of the men's and women's soccer schedules. Consider this: photocopied, one color on orange paper, four by six. Splayed next to them were grand, elaborate football schedule posters--multicolor, glossy-coated and so on. I had to call E. to let him know that futbol just isn't getting its due at SU. For one dollar admission, maybe I'll take in a match this fall. Or, maybe not. I'll be hefting around quite a load of work.
I was surprised to see E. & Co. ranked fifth nationally in the NAIA preseason rankings. What gives? Why so low?
Gerry Clark, professor of theater at SU, gave a fantastically performative talk on diversity the other day. She roamed the room, bantered humourously with orientees, stirred things up and brought the grand catchword "diversity" into terms I hadn't considered carefully before. I left my scattered doodle-notes at home, but her inventory of listening types hit on antipathetical--styling it as the sort of attention we give when we dismiss, with diregarding nods, item after item, until we hear something so ridiculous and outlandish that we jump it. Kind of like: whatever, whatever, whatever, BAM! (antagonistic, contestatory, etc.). V. nice.
She also invited reactions to Rockwell's "Freedom from Want" oil painting. It's the lily, pristine, family-scape--too perfect for most people to appreciate. But then there's the one on "Freedom to Worship," which didn't get mentioned in the talk on diversity. It's the only one of the four freedoms with a written decree; it goes like this: "Each according to the dictates of his own conscience." from the cover of the Saturday Evening Post in 1943, is there a tender conception of diversity in that?
Had this conversation twice this week (with different people):
Not me: Winter is hard in Syracuse. Where are you from? Kansas City, right?
Me: Well, yeah. But I grew up in Michigan. We had snow there.
Not me: Where at in Michigan?
Me: Central Michigan; Mt. Pleasant. It was legit. The snow was deep and cold; winters long.
Not me: Some areas around Syracuse had eight feet of snow in a stretch of four days last winter.
Me: Ah. That's easy. Nobody goes out when there's eight feet of snow. But that's a lot of snow, you're right. I'm sure we'll be able to weather it. What else have I got to do besides sitting inside, reading, writing?
Not me: Blinding. You can't see through the snow here. It's that thick. Cold. Gives me shivers just to think of it.
Me thinking: Snow drifts on Winn Road were ten feet deep. We carved out forts in the banks high enough to stand up inside. And have you ever seen a snowman with five body segments? When I was a kid, Frosty was my favorite Superhero, for chrissake. We used to have to knock the ice from the dogs' watering bowls every night and carry a pitcher of boiling water to them so they'd have two minutes' chance to drink. I'm so winter-ready, I have dreams about licking icicles and shoveling snow. My blood is Ice-9 (see Cat's Cradle). I was the one who dared friends to touch their tongues to the steel swing set legs and flag poles, and I can change out wet-felt liners faster than you can spell Antarctica.
But then it started to seem cold this morning when I woke up and it was in the 50's...and it was August. I'll be taking back all the hijinx about cold weather.Posted by Derek Mueller at August 22, 2004 1:25 PM to Unspecified