Here’s a little brain teaser for all you smart and literate people out there. (I know the answer because I cheated.)
Last year, a man went on vacation to Key West. He spent most of his time either sport fishing on the high seas or carousing on Duval Street. A friend of his prefered a very different kind of vacation. He liked hiking and camping and using stone-age toilet facilities. So he spent most of his vacation in the woods in California and the Pacific Northwest.
When both men returned from their trips, they compared notes. The first man explained that on his vacation he saw something that, when written down, has all five vowels, and the vowels make up five of the seven letters in the word. ( A-E-I-O-and-U were all in the same word) In fact, he saw not just one, but a few of these things.
His friend replied: “When I got to Key West, I also saw something that when written down has all five vowels in its seven letters. In fact, I saw quite a few of these as well.”
Each man wrote down his seven-letter word, and then they exchanged papers. Both men had written down the same word. But what they saw were very different things.
What did each man see?

I hadn’t thought about Annie Dillard in ages, but she popped into my head as I was writing my previous post last night.
And then, this morning I open my email and see this horoscope from Rob Brezny’s Free Will Astrology:
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): In her book, *For the Time Being,* Annie Dillard says that throughout history many people have thought civilization was on the verge of collapse. Around 300 B.C., Hindus believed they were living in a “degenerate and unfortunate time” known as the Kali Yuga–the lowest point in the great cosmic cycle. In 426 A.D., the Christian writer Augustine mourned that the world was in its last days. In the 1800s, renowned Hasidic Rabbi Nachman grieved for the world’s “widespread atheism and immorality.” Dillard offers more examples, concluding, “There never was a more holy age than ours, and never a less . . . There is no whit less enlightenment under the tree by your street than there was under the Buddha’s bo tree.” Go sit under that tree, Pisces. The time for your awakening is now at hand.
So I’ll take that as a hint to go and read more Dillard.
I am SO ready for an awakening. I just hope it’s not a rude one.

Part 1.
Today, March 1, Senator Robert Byrd delivered the following remarks at the end of his speech warning the Senate and the American people about a procedural effort being considered by some Senators to shut off debate and shut down minority voices and opinions. It’s worth a read to hear him roar.
Yes, we believe in Majority rule, but we thrive because the minority can challenge, agitate, and question. We must never become a nation cowed by fear, sheeplike in our submission to the power of any majority demanding absolute control.
Generations of men and women have lived, fought and died for the right to map their own destiny, think their own thoughts, and speak their minds. If we start, here, in this Senate, to chip away at that essential mark of freedom – – here of all places, in a body designed to guarantee the power of even a single individual through the device of extended debate – – we are on the road to refuting the Preamble to our own Constitution and the very principles upon which it rests.
In the eloquent, homespun words of that illustrious, obstructionist, Senator Smith, “Liberty is too precious to get buried in books. Men ought to hold it up in front of them every day of their lives, and say, ‘I am free – – to think – – to speak. My ancestors couldn’t. I can. My children will.'”
Part 2.
And as we begin this month of celebrating the history of women on this planet, let us also roar loudly and angrily over the fact that it is still males of our human species that continue to abuse their power against us.
From an Awakened Woman e-newsletter:
Are they not all men, raping murdering and torturing? It is men who are killing the planet, until we get that, hear that, except that, it will continue. It is white American men who pimp 11 and 12 year old girls. It is the Southern British men who are the number one recipients of the world wide sex slave trades. It is the African men who rape in Africa. And the list of the races of men who rape are endless!
Here’s just one horrifying example.
Part 3.
At some point in my daughter’s early high school years, she and a friend performed in a school Variety Show by miming Helen Reddy’s I Am Woman Hear Me Roar. I remember helping them with their costumes, which began as suffragette long skirts, long sleeved blouses, and hats that velcroed-off half-way through to reveal jeans and sneakers and t-shirts.
I’ve been roaring since the 60s, but we really haven’t come a long way baby (remember that Virginia Slim cigarette slogan of decades ago?), at all.
And while it’s not rape, murder, or abduction for sex-slavery, this little essay captures the long road we still have ahead on a very basic level.
Part 4.
So, while some of us keep trying, in our own personal way, to find sources from which to draw psychological sustenance while we gear up for more roaring, my nemesis, Chris Locke continues to try to put some of us into boxes that he can stack up and stand on. I know that he’s using his blog to work out his book-in-progress while he’s earning his keep promoting and demonstrating the value of buying into the services of High Beam Research. I have no problem with that.
What I have a problem with is his obsession with forcing relationships between women who create their own spiritual destinies and either New Age airheads or Nazi narcissists or some other combination thereof.
Part 5.
The theme for the 2005 Women’s History Month is “Women Change America,” and there’s a growing list of such women that I think should include contemporary leaders like Senator Barbara Boxer.
These women put themselves out into the Big Picture and try to change the world they live in.
But there also are women who struggle each day to save their pieces of the Little Picture — artists who bring women together to explore who they really are aside from the expectations of men; writers who try to move and motivate women who have lost touch with their own energies, their own ambitions, their own souls’ hungers. These women also change worlds.
Many of us women like the feeling of having our feet on the ground and our heads in the clouds. Back in the 70s, after reading one of Annie Dillard’s essays about a tree alive with light, I wrote this (not very good) poem:
I choose the cosmic and the common,
refusing to sever half my soul.
I choose to grow in all directions —
to bear both fruit and inedible root,
to glory in the ground and desire the sky,
to stretch roots across acres
and reach for bedrock.
I eschew the single minded vision.
I am all I.
Now, I suppose, some people would call that narcissism.
Part 6.
Here in the Northeast, March has roared in like a lion.
March is a month for roaring. I am woman. Hear me roar.

I’ve had enough of the doldrums. Enough of the frumpies. In the past three years (which is how long the caregiving for my mom has successfully eroded those parts of my life that were carefree and convivial) I’ve gone from Funky Grammy to Frumpy Grammy. (My much loved toddler grandson calls me “Grammy.”)
In a couple of weeks I’ll hit my 65th birthday, and so I’ve been taking some photos of myself for my annual birthday post. FRUMPY!!
So I’ve made an appointment to get my hair styled at a new salon by one of its “artists.” As my hair goes, so seem to go I. It’s worth a try.
A brisk walk around the park on this cold but sunny Sunday was also worth a try. I breathed. Cold, clean, fresh air — just the opposite of what fills this building full of old people who always seem to be cold and so crank up the heat. I don’t have to turn my own heat on all winter; I’m surrounded by apartment-sized hot-boxes.
I’ve decided that there’s some cause and effect relationship between “cluttered” and “frumpy.” My apartment is too cluttered, too full of stuff. Stuffy. Today, I started TRYING to unclutter so that I can unfrump. I’m trying. I’m trying. But it’s sooo hard to get rid of books; English majors can’t seem to part with their beloved books.
And for me, add to my book obsession, hair and shoes. And then, of course, there’s blogging. I’m overwhelmed by my obsessional possessions.
It helps with frumpies and doldrums and obsessions to have something to laugh about. Or at least to smile about. So I checked over at Dick Jones’ Patteran Pages, where I remember seeing his post of 2/23 that listed questions that no one seems to be able to answer, like:
— Light travels faster than sound: Is that why some people appear bright until you hear them speak?
— Whose cruel idea was it for the word “lisp” to have an “s” in it?
— Why do you press harder on a remote control when you know the battery is dead?
— Why are they called buildings, when they’re already finished? Shouldn’t they be called builts?
— Why do people without a watch look at their wrist when you ask them what time it is?
— Why is the alphabet in that order?
— What would a chair look like if your knees bent the other way?
— Why do scientists call it research when looking for something new?
— Tell a man that there are 400 billion stars and he’ll believe you. Tell him a bench has wet paint and he has to touch it.
— How come Superman could stop bullets with his chest, but always ducked when someone threw a gun at him?
— Why doesn’t glue stick to the inside of the bottle?
— Why doesn’t Tarzan have a beard?
— Isn’t Disney World a people trap operated by a mouse?
Those are the ones I like the best, but he’s got more listed on his blog.
He also has a wonderful poem called “Seeds” that helped a little more to move me out of my Winter Doldrums.
Check out Dick’s blog. It’s a gem.

“Don’t I remember crisp, clear-skied and sunny winter days when I spent most of the time outdoors sledding and building snow forts?” my mother-of-toddler daughter asked me not too long ago.
Yup. It seems to me that there were lots of days like that, when kids from toddlers to teens rolled around in pristine snow banks until the sun went down — much too early.
The sun still sets too early, but it doesn’t seem to matter these days. It’s dismal, dreary. Not enough snow to be fun; just enough to be sloppy.
There’s no sun. I’m eating too much chocolate. Eating too much.
So today I hauled myself out and drove down to the New York State Museum for its annual Gem, Mineral, and Fossil show. I’m not into minerals, but I know from past years that sometimes there are vendors selling interesting jewelry.
I by-passed the jewelry this time and wound up buying several “fossil gastropods” — 80 million year old mollusks similar to our modern day snail, or so the tags tell me.
I have in my hand something that lived 80 million years ago. Mollusks actually date back to more than 500 million years ago, so the ones I bought are relatively not very old at all.
But they’re old enough. And so am I. At least that’s how I’m feeling on this dark day that I mostly slept away, except for my journey that ended with finding those delicately etched stone cold fossils that I’ve decided to use in some sort of ceremony when my group of women friends meet on the day of the Spring Equinox.
Wouldn’t it be nice to think that, 80 million years from now, what’s fossilized of me will inspire someone to create something — something to conjure back her 5 billion year old sun.

from here:
The full Moon highlights tonight’s sky. Like all full Moons, the full Moon of February has several names — and all of them conjure forlorn wintertime images. The names include Snow Moon, Hunger Moon, and Wolf Moon.
It’s hard to say when and where these names first appeared. Most full-Moon names describe something about the season in which they occur. And it’s clear that almost every culture on every continent developed its own dictionary of Moon names. It’s interesting to note that cultures scattered across the globe devised similar names for the same full Moons.
Throughout the eons and all over the planet — same moon, same sun, same rains, same wind (some places a little colder, some a little warmer, but still the same stuff of nature asserting its power).
It’s no surprise that the hopes and fears of ancient people from Africa to Alaska developed myths about natural phenomena that enabled them to think that they might have a way to control the uncontrollable. Their myths evolved into deities that assumed the traits of those who created them. And those who created them prayed and sacrificed and continued to hope and fear and pray and sacrifice. And so religions were born — a little different in each of the planet’s pockets of humanity, but all still based in the same need to feel that they had some way to influence the randomness of life.
Right now, in the clear sky, the full moon is centered in my living room window. I have the urge to go outside and dance, light candles, make wishes, howl.
Instead, I’ll do the dishes, check on my mom, have a cup of tea and watch Jack and Bobby. Or maybe, while the moon is still in my window’s sight, I’ll turn off all the lights and let my mind wander into the wolf’s full hunger.
Full Moon. Wolf Moon. Hunger Moon.

They’re winding up for that powerful right cross — that maiming Right Double Cross.
SNEAK ATTACK #1.
Right now, the oil industry’s allies in Congress are plotting a sneak attack on the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. In the next two weeks, oil industry allies in the House and Senate will try a backdoor trick to pass the controversial proposal to drill for oil in the Arctic Refuge by inserting it into the federal budget bill.
See the website of the Defenders of Wildlife to get a succinct explanation of why drilling for oil in the arctic is not as benign an effort as the oil industry and its flunkies would have you think.
Lend your voice to the those who are trying to stop this sneaky maneuver and save the Arctic Refuge! Click here send a free message to your members of Congress urging them to do everything they can to stop drilling in the Arctic!
And, while you have the Arctic on your mind, check out my Alaskan blogger friend’s blog — Klondike Kate’s Aurora
SNEAK ATTACK #2
The lobbying group that orchestrated the Swift Boat guys’ misinformation-filled attack on John Kerry is now after the AARP, using the same kind of sleazy tactics and a war chest of $10 million. It’s all part of the political ultra-Right’s plan to support Bush’s intention to privatize Social Security — an effort that erroneously claims that there is a crisis. But there is no crisis.
(Just like there were no Weapons of Mass Destruction.)
The American Spectator website is running a sleazy and untruthful ad about the AARP in order to discredit its support of maintaining an strengthening the current Social Security system.
Now, I don’t always agree with how the AARP sets its positions on issues — just like I didn’t agree with all of Kerry’s approaches.
BUT in both cases, I looked at the bigger picture and how close they were to my positions on issues AND I totally resent the evil methods that thr Right uses to launch their attacks on those issues.
Such is the case with AARP and Social Security.
Watch out for that Right Double Cross.

All kinds of famous people have died since the beginning of this year, including actors and actresses whose movies I tend to connect with various stages of my own life. Now it’s gotten to point at which my age-peers are starting to add their names to the list.
Like Sandra Dee.
Look at me. I’m Sandra Dee.
No, not really. But I liked her anyway. Hell, she married Bobby Darin!
Sandra Dee. Dead at 63.

The following offered to you by non-blogger myrln:
Among Dumbya’s usual lies, half-truths, distortions, and scare tactics about Social Security is the point made about how in 1940 there were 40 people to meet Social Security payouts for 1 person but in 20xx, there will only be 2 for every 1.
“Horrors,” we’re supposed to think, “my salary will be cut drastically for these SocSec recipients (or sponges).”
Well, Dumbya’s 20xx number may be right, but you know what? There’s a simple explanation which demonstrates there’s no “horrors” necessary (save about his usual distortion of the facts).
Below is a breakdown of Social Security facts and figure in two columns. Column One lists figures for 1940; Column Two for 2002 (last year I could find complete figures for). Within each column are the numbers for the item listed at the left. So first, take a look at the info. (Some items have been rounded to whole figures.)
……………………………………………………….1940……………2002…………..
1) Average Annual Income………………..$1,299…………$36,764.
2) Average Monthly Income………………$108.25………..$3,063.67
3) SocSec Tax Rate…………………………1%…………….6.2%
4) Annual SocSec Tax……………………..$12.99…………$2,279.36
5) Monthly SocSec Tax……………………$1.08…………..$189.94
6) Avg Month Soc Sec Payout…………….$22.71…………$895.
7) Indivs. needed to meet payout…………..21…………….4.7
The point should be clear: yes, there are fewer workers meeting the payout in 2002 than there were in 1940 — not because the system’s in trouble but BECAUSE SALARIES ARE 28 TIMES HIGHER
Therefore, fewer input people are NEEDED per payout recipient. Granted, payouts are 39 times higher and the tax bite 6 times higher than in 1940, but there are still fewer people needed to meet the payout, and it will continue that way because, barring a depression (other than our daily one about Dumbya), salaries will continue upward (until they outsource all jobs). One would think Dumbya would be saying, “See, that’s a sign of a healthy economy,” but that’s another story.
One would also think the dimbulbs in the national media might have worked out the same numbers.
Any questions? See me after class.
Any holes in my analysis, please tell me. Otherwise, feel free to distribute material as widely as you like.
EDITOR’S NOTES:
1. As my dear departed Dad used to say “Figures don’t lie and liars don’t figure.”
2. If you find an errors in this assessment, please leave a comment here for myrln.

A friend of mine who works at Union College in Schenectady emailed me the following text of an award acceptance address given by English Professor Hugh Jenkins. It deserves wider distribution.
It’s hard for me to express how genuinely pleased and honored I am by this award. I can’t possibly acknowledge all who have contributed to my teaching, so I would like in a general fashion to thank those of you out there for helping me with what I do, and those of you back there for not hindering me in doing it.
I mean both sincerely, even-perhaps especially-the latter. We seem now to live in a country whose discourse is dominated by religious bigots, moral bullies, and intellectual terrorists-most self-appointed, but many elected, and some a strange combination of both. Such people have little use for what we do; they prefer metaphysics to science, prophesy to history, belief to reason, smug righteousness to rhetoric and uncertainty, the closed circle of ideology to intellectual debate, the free market and the profit motive to the free play of the mind. They have created a climate in which debate becomes dissent, dissent lack of patriotism, and lack of patriotism borderline criminality. I’ve heard in little in their public discourse over the last few years makes me believe these people would thrive at Union; I don’t think they would ever get past FYP. And, in an astonishing irony, they consider US-radical professors and ignorant students, or ignorant professors and radical students-the crazy ones in the current culture wars. As Bill Moyers has said, today the delusional is no longer marginal. In fact, it’s not even considered delusional anymore. Here’s a direct quotation from a current government official: ”We’re an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality.” In my experience, two types of people (and I don’t mean to equate the two) try to create their own realities: doctrinaire Marxists and complete lunatics. I’ll let you decide which one you believe the speaker belongs to.
In such a climate it is a great blessing just to be left alone to do what we do. It’s worth remembering that the liberal arts mean the free arts, and a free society cannot survive without them. As my great hero John Milton, writing in the midst of a civil war and in a century of unprecedented religious conflict, wrote, ‘give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to my conscience, above all liberties.’ We have that here at Union. Our weakness makes us strong, saith the Apostle Paul, and I would argue that we are strong and necessary not despite our arguments, with ourselves and the world, and our craziness, for in a mad world only the mad are sane, but because of them. We represent something great at Union and something necessary, and something that is increasingly threatened. If you think I am exaggerating that threat, you haven’t been paying attention. Put down your New York Times and turn off your NPR and read and listen to what most Americans see and hear. At issue now is preserving the heritage of free inquiry and the ideals of a free society that have lived for more than two thousand years. The intellectual privileges we have here at Union and at similar institutions are vital in sustaining the basic rights of our society as a whole. This makes them privileges worth fighting for, and its enemies worth fighting. This is not a Red vs. Blue or left vs. right issue. We must all take up the fight if we truly believe in what we preach and try to practice here at Union.
Thank you.
In his statement of teaching philosophy, included below, he describes what should be the basis for all teaching and learning: