Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming

So I'm back from several weeks off to bury my mother-in-law (who, as my previous blog entry states, was fantastic, and I miss her enormously) and get my wife out of the country for a couple of much-needed weeks of stress relief, and able to resume this still-embryonic blog.  I wish I'd been in a position to do it Monday, because that was the forty-fourth anniversary of something that affected me greatly at the time: the Kent State shootings.

Just to review, for the many among us who weren't even around at that time (hi, Bill and Pete), word had just come out that during the Vietnam War (I look down and spit at the memory), the United States had conducted an "incursion" into Cambodia.  This elicited howls of protest on campuses across the country, including Kent State University in Ohio.  For reasons too complex to discuss here, the protest at Kent State turned ugly, culminating in a violent confrontation on the university's Commons between protesters and the Ohio National Guard, who had been brought in (nominally) because the city of Kent feared "rumors that radical revolutionaries were in Kent to destroy the city and the university."  This paper from a Kent State professor emeritus sheds some relatively objective light (although it is a subject on which no one can be really objective) on what happened next, much of which is still subject to dispute forty years later.  The outcome, however, was clear enough: four dead students and nine more wounded, some becoming permanently disabled.  Note that according to the Lewis paper, not one of the killed students was within 250 feet of the guardsmen when they were shot; two weren't even part of the protest at all; one, Bill Schroeder, was in fact in the ROTC program and was probably about as unlikely to be throwing rocks at the guardsmen as anyone in the county that day.

I was a high-school senior at the time, and I well remember the wave of campus upheavals that followed.  Less than two weeks later, two more students would be killed in "riots" at Jackson State College in Mississippi, and things were still very tense when I headed off to Michigan State that fall to begin my college education.  It took years for the tension to die down ... but there came a time when it did, and that is my main subject today.  For years now I have found it stunning that when May 4 rolls around, many of our news outlets simply report nothing about what the date is an anniversary of.  Others have well-hidden blurbs that relegate the event to a footnote.  Very few treat it as a thing particularly worth remembering.

As a comment to my Facebook ruminations on how poorly Kent State is remembered, my wise friend Keith Gatling reminds me that he wrote something in his own blog, "The Word From G," a couple of years ago that he called "The Half-Life of Grief," and like most of the stuff Keith writes, it is well worth reading.  This entry was commemorating another senseless loss of life, the bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland, which Keith remembers well because there were a lot of people on that flight from Keith's home town of Syracuse, New York.  In it he writes about that tragedy, Kent State, and also the Bath School Disaster of 1927, which remains to this day the deadliest mass murder at a school in American history ... and yet, very few people outside Bath Township, Michigan could tell you much about it today.  Keith opines that
At some point the memory of our "one terrible day" will fade, except for a few people still directly affected by it, and a few historians. It has to. It will become a historical footnote much like the Split Rock explosion [another tragedy that obliterated a small town, although an accident rather than mass murder -- GB] - something that happened here, but doesn't define us. At some point it will have happened before the parents of the incoming class of SU students were born.

Hmm...maybe you remember every year for the first 10 years. Then every five until you get to 30, and every ten until you get to 50. At that point, most people with any ties to it will have been long gone anyway. Then you have one last observance at 100 years, and you put it to bed. Maybe that's what the half-life of grief is.

As regards the memory of the lives lost, I think Keith's right: such memories not only will fade, they probably must fade, for the sake of the rememberer's sanity.  There's more to Kent State than just the body count, however, and that "more" -- the coming of violence to a university campus where it doesn't belong, and equally importantly, the actions of governments at various levels that preceded, and then followed, it (trying to keep this NPOV and not assign blame here, as much as I want to...) -- well, I'm not sure it's a good idea for memories of that part of things to fade.  Santayana spoke truthfully: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.  And I fear that there are futures facing our country right now in which we may repeat those disastrous errors. 

For years after I started graduate school, I posted a note on my door every May 4 saying "Remember Kent State."  (This elicited some interesting comments that might be a subject of a future blog, but in a nutshell, yes, I agree that we should also remember those who perished in the stinking swamps of Vietnam.)  That ebbed out over time, not least when I moved to places where overt political statements like that as part of one's office décor were (ahem) discouraged..  But I haven't forgotten.  And now that I'm not working in one of those no-overt-political-statement places, and have this blog, I won't forget again next year, either.

Random link du jour: how could it be anything else?

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Good-bye, Dorothy

"Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got till it's gone..."
 
-- Joni Mitchell
 
 
I'd apologize for the absurdly slow start this blog has gotten off to, were there any indications that anyone is actually reading it.  Well, I'll apologize anyway; someone may read it some day and wonder about the gap back at the beginning.  Unfortunately, there is a reason for that gap, as I will explain.
 
It was almost three weeks ago that a truly extraordinary woman named Dorothy Hoard passed away -- a woman who was a literal Living Treasure in northern New Mexico where we live, and in the bargain, happened to be the best mother-in-law a man could ever have.  Link du jour is here, which tells you quite a bit about her, not just in the text, but even more, in the way a community and a National Monument within the United States National Park System are remembering her.  Additional links for the Pajarito Environmental Education Center and the Friends of Bandelier National Monument might give you some idea of just why the memories, and the celebration, are as they are.  These, plus a little more about that Living Treasure designation, get much of the way to understanding Dorothy's impacts.  But the mother-in-law part -- well, for that, you're just going to have to put up with me.
 
I knew Dorothy for over thirty years.  Our first meeting came when she was dropping off her daughter Emily at the meet-up for a mountain climbing trip organized by the Los Alamos Mountaineers (link) to Mount Wilson, Wilson Peak, and El Diente Peak, "Fourteeners" in southern Colorado that I hadn't been up yet.  Some of us self-proclaimed hard young men were going to give a technical route on Mount Wilson and El Diente a try, while others in the party would go for the easier Wilson Peak.  Dorothy thought that second, easier peak might be a good thing for her daughter, home from college and having a hard time finding either gainful employment or fun things to do beyond the family, so she talked an incredibly colorful, eccentric (that's the polite word) old family friend who also had been a Mountaineers member for about thirty years (literally just about back to the foundation of the club) into taking Emily in hand, showing her some ice/snow climbing technique, and seeing her safely up the peak.  She counted on old Ken to see to Emily's well-being.  What she and Ken did not count on, however, was me.
 
I will spare the details of a courtship spent half climbing things, half performing classical music together (both passions that we retain to this day), and simply point out that within a couple of weeks of meeting the woman who would become my wife, I'd also started to realize what an incredible mother she had.  This was the same year as Dorothy's first book on the trails of our area, "Los Alamos Outdoors" (ISBN 0941232123) came out, and I knew at first reading that this girl I was starting to go out with was descended from someone who really loved this place.  And it wasn't long, as our relationship grew, before I was getting roped into Dorothy's adventures to check out this trail in Bandelier, that obscure old road on the rim of the Valles Caldera, and so on.  Those adventures continued through parts of three decades and as many countries.  Our last outdoor adventure together was to help chart a path for a Jemez Mountains Rim Trail that many of us hope will be her last, and lasting, legacy.  She may already have been suffering then from the disease that would take her life; if so, she certainly didn't show it.
 
So for the last six weeks, I have been recoiling from the sudden, awful realization that Dorothy, indefatigable hiker that she was, had finally encountered a summit she could not conquer; helping to bring about all the things she was doing to make her passing easier for her loved ones; mourning that awful morning of March 3, when she left us; and then, more joyfully, working with the great folks at Bandelier as they prepare to host the celebration of her life.  Joni Mitchell only had it about half right, I think.  Sometimes you do know what you have before it's gone.  You just don't realize how much you loved the person who made it all happen.
 
Miss you, Dorothy, and thanks for everything, not least, for your daughter ... and for accepting me as though I were your own son.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Coming attractions

02/28/14: Coming attractions

Now that I've finally broken through the creative logjam and started to think about blogging my world, the ideas for things to talk about are beginning to take shape.  Here are some of the subjects on my mind that might be popping up here in the near future:

  • The Aquarium Dream -- Can a dream be so pleasant, so calming, so comforting, that it's horrible?
  • White Birds -- Thoughts on the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge and the American (and by no means uniquely American) tendency to love things to death
  • (Re)Tired Science -- Looking at science in the national interest, from the standpoint of one who retired after doing it for thirty-plus years and wonders if it's still worth it
  • Rose among the Thorns -- How did a particular webcomic, by a skilled but not exceptional artist whose other work is in the "meh" class (IMO), create one of the most compelling characters I have ever seen in any fictional medium?
  • Facebook Feminism -- Just you try to be a male, particularly one over age 40, and take any of the "What kind of XXX are you?" quizzes that pop up on Facebook these days.
I guess that'll keep me busy for a while.  Random link du jour: http://www.skyandtelescope.com/observing/highlights/Bright-Supernova-in-M82-241477661.html
One of the brightest celestial outbursts in the universe today (for certain relativistic definitions of "today"...) is right in our own cosmic backyard -- and most of us are unaware that with little more than a big pair of binoculars, we can faintly glimpse it if the skies are dark enough.  If.  But that's a subject for another time.

Introducing ... me.

02/28/2014: Introducing ... me.

Hi, folks.  This is the blog of an old (but not too old) guy with a gray beard, who unimaginatively calls himself "Graybeard" on lots of blogs and forums.  This is still completely under construction at this writing, and I'll start to have content on it in the next day or two.  It will also get prettified beyond a blank piece of paper, although I'll never have quite the ornateness of a truly artistic blogger, I suspect.  Stay tuned, as they said on TV 50 years ago.

Random web page du jour: the Youtube view of composer Eric Whitacre's first "virtual chorus," doing his composition "Lux Aurumque".  Ignore Whitacre's massive ego, as manifested in the images, and just immerse yourself in the sound. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7o7BrlbaDs