This past month has been a whirlwind. I was on the road every week to visit potential grad schools with my daughter. All things considered, the trips went well. I got to meet a friend in real life for the first time and saw some friends I hadn't seen for 20 years. I wouldn't mind visiting some of these places again, but there is no place like home.
We drove by the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh and saw the memorial for the shooting victims. Just the previous week, I sat across the street from the statue of Robert E. Lee in Charlottesville where the white supremacist rally resulted in the death of a protestor. Seeing these two sites in close succession was sobering. The statue was cordoned off with bright orange netting that you see on construction sites. There were flowers in front of the synagogue. What a tragic and sinful world we live in.
As a result of my travels, I had a chance to do more reading. I am continuing to work my way through the stack of grimly fascinating books on American history and specifically the rise evangelicalism in the 19th and 20th century and its relationship to politics, social issues, and ethics. I sometimes ask why I have the compulsive need to research this so thoroughly. One reason is I want to know the truth. The other reason is that I am building a mental case that an inaccurate view of the past has negatively influenced the present. Myths and idealized tales have a way of clouding our vision so we don't see clearly about ourselves or others. But this is a touchy subject. We like our heroes to remain pristine. Interestingly a statistician has shown that most people's view of the world is pretty much the same as it was when they were in elementary school. Given how social studies was taught, the lack of depth in the texts, the avoidance of any controversy, and the absence of the last 50 years' worth of history, is it any wonder why we prefer nostalgic, feel-good tales of the past?
I did take a break from my usual depressing reading and finished two fantasy audio books by the same author. Think Jonathan Strange and Mister Norrell a la Georgette Heyer in an alternate universe. The first was diverting. The second was a bit more contrived. But this kept my mind occupied while I started a new knitting project from one of the lovely yarn shops I found in my travels.
Well enough of my rambles. I still need to get caught up with work as well as catch my breath...
We drove by the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh and saw the memorial for the shooting victims. Just the previous week, I sat across the street from the statue of Robert E. Lee in Charlottesville where the white supremacist rally resulted in the death of a protestor. Seeing these two sites in close succession was sobering. The statue was cordoned off with bright orange netting that you see on construction sites. There were flowers in front of the synagogue. What a tragic and sinful world we live in.
As a result of my travels, I had a chance to do more reading. I am continuing to work my way through the stack of grimly fascinating books on American history and specifically the rise evangelicalism in the 19th and 20th century and its relationship to politics, social issues, and ethics. I sometimes ask why I have the compulsive need to research this so thoroughly. One reason is I want to know the truth. The other reason is that I am building a mental case that an inaccurate view of the past has negatively influenced the present. Myths and idealized tales have a way of clouding our vision so we don't see clearly about ourselves or others. But this is a touchy subject. We like our heroes to remain pristine. Interestingly a statistician has shown that most people's view of the world is pretty much the same as it was when they were in elementary school. Given how social studies was taught, the lack of depth in the texts, the avoidance of any controversy, and the absence of the last 50 years' worth of history, is it any wonder why we prefer nostalgic, feel-good tales of the past?
I did take a break from my usual depressing reading and finished two fantasy audio books by the same author. Think Jonathan Strange and Mister Norrell a la Georgette Heyer in an alternate universe. The first was diverting. The second was a bit more contrived. But this kept my mind occupied while I started a new knitting project from one of the lovely yarn shops I found in my travels.
Well enough of my rambles. I still need to get caught up with work as well as catch my breath...
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