The Farthest Star in the Night Sky

for Ann Moore

My friend and I walk through the night. Winter is coming back. The night sky is clear, no clouds. The night will grow colder. We sip coffee. She knows the stars. I’ve been stuck on the Pleiades. That name. A constellation I knew as a boy. A picture on a page. A story. Seven divine sisters. The Pleiades, I say, to hear the sound and give it life. She points. There, she says. I count aloud one, two, three, four, five and six. The seventh is beyond our ability to see unaided. We walk under Orion. Taurus The Bull steaming at the snout. I ask, how far away is the seventh Pleiade. She says a number beyond my imagination. The night becomes colder. I was once told that each star is someone in heaven. A pinprick in God’s dome. She asks if I’m looking for my father. No, I say. He’s farther than the seventh Pleiade. The farthest star in the cold night’s sky. We hurry. The coffee is always getting cold.  
 

It Keeps You Running

I'm in no hurry to exercise. Sounds like the words of a fat man eating Doritos, watching golf on the television, but I mean it otherwise. I'm reading headlines about how to exercise in just eight minutes a day. I see things touting the benefits of high intensity workouts done in no time. There's this hurry to get exercise over and done. I understand. Many people feel rushed, overburdened, and that there aren't enough hours in the day. I feel otherwise. 

It wasn't always so. Years ago my job was an hour's commute each way. The drive and job sucked  the life out of me. By the time I got home, I wouldn't drag my fat ass to any kind of workout. My wife, who thinks about me as much as I do but more effectively, got me a Y membership and I began going there at 5:30 each morning before work. I could work out for a solid hour, shower, and still arrive at the job early. 

That hour felt good. Not just the workout, but the luxury of an hour to myself. It damn sure felt better than the job or commute. It was easy to get out of bed in the dark and go to the gym. I wanted that hour. 

I'm no longer at that job and my commute is short. The Y costs $1,000 a year and I don't feel like paying. Instead, I run and, as I said at the outset, I'm in no hurry. 

The other day I came home tired but thinking, I should go for a run. It wasn't the obligation of getting in shape or keeping some streak. I said "should" because I was feeling lousy and few things are as relaxing and rejuvenating as running by myself. I set off into the hot sun, in no hurry at all. 

I'm running according to Phil Maffetone's heart rate plan. I stay between 121 and 131 beats per minute. In the hot sun after a full day of work, I hit 121 within three blocks and, if I'm not careful I go up over 131 even on the smallest of hills. I have to run pretty damn slow. The goal is to burn fat instead of sugar because sugar has to be replaced all the time, but there's enough fat on me to keep going 'til Rapture. 

Along with not hurrying the pace, I'm in no hurry to finish the run. Moving slowly, I feel like I can run forever. Going out for that run, I told my wife I'd be back in an hour or so. She accepts that or so likely means I'll be an hour and a half. I went almost seven miles and would have gone longer except I was holding up dinner. I'm running six, seven, sometimes ten miles not because I'm in such great shape, but because being in nor hurry allows me to enjoy time for myself. 

It's a bit greedy, but I'm a better man when I've had a run. I'm happier, healthier, and more accepting of a slow pace. Think of it this way: what kind of family man am I if I'm always in a hurry? 

I still understand why people rush and think that they have to. I just don't want to hurry right now and have found that I don't have to. Running helps me remember that. My wife's love and support is the foundation of that. And my happiness is the result of that. I don't need high intensity workouts I can finish in eight minutes. I want to feel this happy for much longer. 

Final Exams In The Schools

I'm giving the final exam at school this week. It will likely bleed into some of next week too. That's why we start early. Our school requires a final as 20% of kids' overall grades, so it's a big deal. I use pieces of old New York State Regents examinations and have two guys here right now trying to do the reading comprehension part. Of course, neither is reading the passage on which the multiple choice questions will be based. 

Before the exam, I gave them advice about how to score well: Read the questions, then read the passage, and finally, cross out answers they know are wrong in order to circle the right one. Most of them skip reading the passage. I don't blame them, but try to talk them out of it. They say, I never read no passages and get like hundreds on these things. I nod. Wow, I say, that's great, but students in my classes haven't done that well with that method and so you might-- Nah, they say, I got this. They then answer three out of ten correctly and say the test is rigged.

Teaching is a series of largely rejected suggestions. I would be more upset if this wasn't also my model for learning. I want to figure things out on my own anyway even if that means failing the first seven times. For better and for worse, I'm suspicious of advice and other people's experience. I can't be surprised then when my students think I'm full of shit, nor can I say they're wrong. 

One guy here just started trying to read the passage. The other just asked me what sheems means. Puzzled, I went to his desk, looked where he pointed, and said, oh, schemes. He repeated my pronunciation. Oh, he said, then asked, what does that mean? It's in one of the questions, so I couldn't say but I said he might be able to figure it out from reading that part of the passage. He said, screw it, that's too much work, and circled answer three at random. 

The last two weeks of classes are like this. The end of the school year is like this. I want to think we have made huge advances, that kids have been transformed. As Hemingway wrote, "Isn't it pretty to think so?" They aren't transformed. Maybe they've learned a few things, but these are the same kids with whom I've worked most of the year. Kids don't change into what I want them to be. School doesn't work that way. 

They have changed though and mostly for the better. That one kid is still trying to read the passage. The other, well, he's honest with me and hasn't thrown anything in anger. We've only had one school year together and so it's wrong to expect transformation. I've been working on slow change for them and there's some evidence that they have changed. 

Thankfully, I've changed too. I'm not battling them much. I try to understand them a little more. Change is slow with me too and I don't feel that I have been transformed. Like change, learning is often just at the edge of what we can register. Teaching is mysterious. We don't really understand one or the other. What we do know is that final exams are largely exercises in wasted time. I go on through the mysteries of teaching and learning because what else is there to do? We carry on with finals because someone, somewhere clings to the idea that they have meaning, and that someone signs my paycheck. Good enough reason for me. 

Memorial Day

First thing this morning I saw on Facebook, a link to someone singing that god awful Lee Greenwood song "God Bless The USA." I didn't click, but the song began playing in my head anyway. Though I'm loath to subject you to such abuse, here are Greenwood's lyrics which may make you wonder, as Bob Dylan did, "Is there a hole for me to get sick in?" 

“If tomorrow all the things were gone
I worked for all my life
And I had to start again
With just my children and my wife
I thank my lucky stars
To be living here today
’Cause the flag still stands for freedom
And they can’t take that away

CHORUS
And I’m proud to be an American
Where at least I know I’m free
And I won’t forget the men who died
Who gave that right to me
And I’d gladly stand up next to you
And defend Her still today
’Cause there ain’t no doubt
I love this land
God Bless the U.S.A.

From the lakes of Minnesota
To the hills of Tennessee
Across the plains of Texas
From sea to shining sea
From Detroit down to Houston
And New York to L.A.
Where’s pride in every American heart
And it’s time we stand and say

CHORUS X2”

— Lee Greenwood

This guy is proud to be an American where at least he knows he's free? What the shit does that even mean? Free from what? Free to do what? To whom? Given the current administration I would guess it means free to carry an automatic weapon, hate anyone less fortunate, take babies from their mothers, and wear a red hat saying America isn't great. 

"'Cause there ain't no doubt, I love this land." Well, not the land so much as _the idea_ of the land. The actual soil is ours to poison. The water too. And if poor folk drink the lead, it's because they're too stupid to trade the right stock or be born to the right parents and inherit enough wealth to move somewhere nice. 

The whole song is vapid bullshit. This is why it plays so well to its demographic, the same people who think Springsteen's "Born In The USA" is a pep rally for blind patriotism. Bruce doesn't go at anything blind. He's no follower. 

“Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I’m ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run ain’t got nowhere to go

Born in the U.S.A., I was born in the U.S.A.”

— Bruce Springsteen

That's a hard look at this country and what it stands for. Greenwood's is straight up nonsense or propaganda and instead of that we should listen to Woody Guthrie's "This Land Is Your Land," especially the last three verses which you probably don't know. Woody's patriotism ran deeper than a red hat with a racist slogan, a long red tie wound too loosely around the neck of a bigot, or a stars and stripes flag waving next to the Confederate banner. Woody's song, unlike Greenwood's, and even more than Springsteen's is a kind of national anthem that reads in part: 

“As I went walking I saw a sign there 
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.” 
But on the other side it didn’t say nothing, 
That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people, 
By the relief office I seen my people; 
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking 
Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me, 
As I go walking that freedom highway; 
Nobody living can ever make me turn back 
This land was made for you and me.”

— Woody Guthrie

This Memorial Day I remember those who fought in lost, foolish causes: Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan. I mourn the senseless loss of life and curse the privileged who sent them to die. 

This Memorial Day I mourn those who fought throughout Europe, The Mediterranean, the Pacific, and more against an axis of true evil. 

This Memorial Day I reject Greenwood and embrace Guthrie's. We are most American when this country belongs to everyone. We are strongest when we are most accepting. We cannot accept hatred as leadership. 

This Memorial Day, fuck Lee Greenwood and the big orange maggot. My flag stays in a dark corner of the front-hall closet until we start acting like real Americans.