This is a poem that a friend of mine gave me a year or so before she
died; I’d forgotten about it until I found it this afternoon in a book
she gave me. Her name was Anne Griesel, and I don’t believe she’d mind
if I shared it with you.

Blest the man who dares to dream
and step into the mighty stream
of God’s own will
and there be still
to let the current sweep him on.

One problem I had not considered when I started this web log was
the dearth of material at the beginning of the month. I usually write
book reviews a few at a time, and then post them over the next few days.
It gives you folks something to read every day, and means I don’t need to
be writing every day. But the last thing I do every month is finish
writing reviews of all of the books I’ve read, and then those reviews go
into Ex Libris
instead of into the web log. And then, the next
day, I have no reviews to post. Which means I need to write bilge like
this to fill the space.

I suppose I could drone on about the California election, but the only
thing on the ballot that I’m at all exercised about is a proposal to allow
voter registration up to and including Election Day. At present, there’s
a deadline–you have to register some weeks (30 days?) before Election
Day.

Now consider–Joe Blow goes to the polls on Election Day, and registers
to vote–at every precinct in the county. How can this be prevented?
The proposed measure provides for stringent new anti-fraud mechanisms,
but I think it’s wishful thinking. Rigging an election can be a powerful
temptation, and the stakes can be high; I’m in favor of putting as many
obstacles as possible in the way.

So I’m agin’ it. We’ll see in the morning how many folks agree with me.

Or, why they are confiscating nail clippers at
the airport:
The Chinese have a long history of building walls. The first set was
built of rammed earth by the near-legendary Emperor Qin, first emperor of
China; the last set, the Great Wall of China, was built of stone over a
thousand years later by the emperors of the Qing dynasty. In every case
the walls had the same purpose: to keep the barbarians in their place.
So prevalent has wall-building been in Chinese history that some claim
that it’s an innate tendency of the Chinese mind. In fact, nothing could
be further from the case.

Let’s start with the barbarians: the nomadic Mongol tribesman of the
northwestern steppes. We think of nomads as being rootless wanderers,
independent and fierce, needing nothing of civilization, and to some
extent that’s true. Sure they were born on horseback. Sure they
could ride all day without tiring. Sure they could use a slab of meat as
a saddle and grill it on a hot iron plate for dinner. But where did they
get that hot iron plate?

It turns out that even barbarian nomads have some use for the things of
civilization. And realistically they have just two ways of acquiring
them. They can trade for them; or they can raid for them. Despite their
reputation for fierceness, the Mongols often preferred trading to
raiding; it was less hazardous. But often they weren’t given the choice,
and therein hangs the tale.

Because of the geography of China’s northwestern frontier, the nomads
remained a permanent threat which every emperor in every dynasty had to
deal with one way or another (save possibly the Yuan–that’s when ol’
Genghis climbed onto the throne). And always his advisors were divided
into two factions: those who favored trading with the nomads, thus
creating a more stable, settled border, and those who thought that
treating with barbarians was beneath the Emperor’s dignity. These were
usually in favor of military expeditions and attempted genocide.

In some reigns, one voice predominated, and there was peace on the
border; in others the battle was carried to the nomads. And then were
the reigns in which the two factions were perfectly balanced, and in
which neither could put its policies into place. Open battle was two
expensive; trade with barbarians too demeaning. And yet the Mongol raids
continued. It was necessary that the Emperor do something. It was
necessary that the Emperor be seen doing something. And it was at times
like this, when something had to be done and nothing useful could be
done, that the Emperor ordered the building of walls.

Thousands, possibly tens of thousands, of peasants died building those
walls; and they offered little protection, for the nomads on their swift
ponies were usually quite able to ride around them. But the Emperor had
taken action, and that was the important thing.

The need for the Authorities to be seen taking action is hardly unique to the
Chinese. It happened all over this country after 9/11/2001. It’s still
happening at every airport in the land. Every time an airport screener
confiscates a pocket knife, a pair of nail clippers or (it happened!) a
baby bottle full of breast milk, it’s just another brick in that Great
Wall. It’s not good for much, and it’s not all that pretty to look
at…but at least the authorities are taking action.

Have a nice flight.

It’s not unreasonable to ask why they hate us. But
it is unreasonable to assume that it must be our fault.

They say that memory is the first thing to go, but I find that aging is
more easily measured by the things that arrive. Like today, when we took
delivery of the first reclining chair I have ever personally owned.
I’ve always felt that buying a recliner would be the final step in giving in to
couch-potato-hood, a state I find it too easy to enter as it is. But
there it is, and here it is. I’m sitting in it as I write.
It’s a quintessential “daddy chair”, a big wingback on stout wooden legs that
reclines until it takes up three times as much space. Even Nero Wolfe
would be comfortable in this chair.

But the fact that we bought a recliner is nothing next to a more
insidious change: we’re starting to buy decent furniture. No longer does
“furniture shopping” mean picking up a couple of cheap bookcases at Ikea.
Instead, it means spending three hours looking at fabric samples and
still having to flip a coin to make the final choice.

Of course, I can still remember when furniture shopping meant going to
lumberyard to pick up some cinder blocks and particle-board to make
bookshelves.