Sunday, August 11, 2013

...Irony


What is irony?  Webster would do himself a service if he defined irony as sitting in a room as a blind man teaches you to read. 

That was me a few days ago, taking reading lessons from a blind dude.  Obviously not in a “See Jane Run” kind of read.  Not in a “sound it out” kind of read.  And definitely not in a “feel the words” kind of read.  I’m talking about graduate-level reading.  When you’ve got a few hundred pages each week to read you’re willing to entertain just about anyone who says they can help you keep your head above water.  So you find yourself in a packed room with your fellow graduate students listening to a blind man teach you Graduate Level Reading Skills.  Six Steps:  Read the titles; paraphrase the conclusion; ingest the introduction; skim the topic sentences; re-read the conclusion.  Read and Destroy.  Focus on the logic.  What are they missing.  How is it flawed.  A 30-page article should be consumed in 20 minutes.  An entire book?  Maybe an hour.  You’re a graduate student now, you’re not reading for content, you’re reading for argument. 

FYI - This is a hard concept to grasp for someone who grew up reading for content.  Who loved content.  Who consumed content. 

At the beginning of his workshop he joked, “hey, you may have noticed I’m blind, so if you have a question don’t raise your hand, it won’t do you much good”.  A couple times during his workshop I closed my eyes, you know, just to see what it was like.  Anxiety, negative adrenaline, overwhelming nervousness.  I don’t like not seeing.  None of us like not seeing.

The amazing thing was not that this blind guy was teaching me to read.  I got over that by minute two when I recognized I could learn a lot from this dude.  The amazing thing was what he represented. Here was a scholar blind from age 14 who made himself a recognized expert in his field.  Here was a man stripped of his primary sense who made his way easily through life with nothing but a cane.  Not even a dog...a cane.  Here was a man who recognized the irony of the situation, joked about it, then readily passed on his knowledge to others.

Here was an extraordinary individual, extraordinary in every sense of the word, who has overcome more adversity than most of us could ever imagine.  Here was Professor Zach Shore, the blind man who taught me to read.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

...Things


I am required to take a writing class at Naval Post Grad.   I understand why they make this class mandatory but cmon, I know the proper use of the comma and the semi-colon, I don’t need remedial writing.  Yes, I know I’m both a snob and a nerd and I accept that.  On Day 1 the professor admitted that some in the class probably didn't need to be here and if she could test people out she would.  But she cant.  So I'm stuck.

Day 2 we did a writing assessment.  She gave us two prompts to choose from and two hours to write on it.  The first topic was to discuss a significant change you would make in the military, why and how.  The class is at 0800 in the morning, way too early to be writing on that stuff.  The second topic was to “discuss the idea that westerners are seen by critics to be owned by their possessions. Yet many people treasure objects or possessions for reasons that far transcend the objects’ actual material value.  Select and discuss one such object or possession that you personally value for reasons beyond its material worth.”  Ha.  Too Easy. 

Below is my writing assessment I submitted.  Based on the professor’s feedback, pretty sure I would be excused from this class if possible.  Arrogant?  Yes.  Legitimate arrogance?  I think so.  And don’t worry…I won’t be posting every paper I submit for NPS.  I’ll spare you from my “Are Nuclear Weapons Special?” paper.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A very common, often heard criticism of western culture, especially American culture, is the focus on material goods.  While I would never debate that America is not a materialistic society, I would argue that Americans often place value in things that reach far above an items net worth.   To look at American society and generalize that we are more concerned about the latest model of vehicle we can purchase than spending time with our kids is a lazy, simplistic examination of our society.  One must delve in to the psyche of why an individual places value on certain items before they categorize that individual as materialistic; often times they will find that the value is not in the item itself, but what that item represents to the individual.

One can read various comparative analyses of eastern versus western cultures proving that Americans are more focused on money, possessions, “things” in general, then they are on the more abstract concepts of family, community, and religion.  There are many explanations for this, the fact that our society is based on capitalism, a paradigm that by its very nature makes a people focus on goods and possessions; the fact that the “American Dream” is considered by many to entail owning a home and providing for the family; even the fact that all parents want their children to have a better life than they had, which typically means more education, money and spending ability.  But focusing on the ownership and retention of material items does not, in and of itself, make an individual materialistic.

Lets take my favorite topic as an example...Me.  I have many things around my house.  It is not cluttered, but tastefully decorated with objects that I value.  Some may say I own a lot of “stuff” but I would disagree.  As soon as “stuff” stacks up in my house I take a trip to Goodwill.  I downsize.  I reduce.  I de-clutter.  I don’t like “stuff”.  I do, however, like to retain things that have personal meaning.  The value I place on items in my home is likely not readily apparent when someone walks in to my house.

I’ll admit though, sometimes that value reaches a level that flirts with irrational.  My jump wings are a prime example.  They’re small and insignificant to the naked eye.  I can’t wear them on my uniform, they’re not the right specifications.  They’re original pewter jump wings from World War II but that’s not what makes them special.  What makes them special is the personal significance I have placed in them, value that has nothing to do with monetary worth or materialistic usefulness.  They were given to me by my step-dad upon graduating Airborne.  They’ve been in my pocket for every jump since.  They were there when I made my first low-level night jump.  They were there when I got hung up in the trees.  They were there every time I schmoozed my way on to an aircraft line, effectively earning me the nickname Jay-Dub.  The pin almost gave me tetanus when it unsnapped during a rough Parachute Landing Fall and jabbed in to my thigh.  The pewter was nearly rubbed off as I was waiting to take the Jump Master Personnel Inspection to become a Jumpmaster. 

When I’m not jumping, those jump wings have a specific place in the house.  To a common visitor they look like nothing special.  Materially, they’re right.  But emotionally and psychologically, they’re wrong.  I treasure them and will make sure they are always in my possession, not because of their nature as a “thing”, but because of the abstract value I have placed in them. 

I haven’t, and won’t, jump out of an airplane without them.  And that is where the irrational part enters the equation.  Intellectually I understand that those wings in my pocket have absolutely nothing to do with the mechanics of a parachute opening and arresting the fall of a body that has reached terminal velocity.  But emotionally I know I wouldn’t be comfortable leaving that “perfectly good airplane” without them.  I’m not a superstitious person and it’s not superstition that makes me feel that way.  Instead, the comfort and value comes from something deeper.  Those wings are a physically manifestation of the connection I have with my step-dad and the love both of us feel for jumping.  It’s a token of remembrance to all those American soldiers, Airborne and Legs, who have fought and died for our country and the legacy they have charged us with carrying on.  And sure, it’s also a small security blanket, a reminder that I’ve jumped and survived many times before and this jump will be no different…because no matter how experienced you are, every jumper feels butterflies the second they’re in the door.

Owning “things” does not by default make an individual materialistic.  An item can mean many things that dive far deeper than simply material value or net worth.  Before one generalizes, look below the surface, because what is discovered is likely much deeper than what is seen at face value.