Alabaster Cities, Fireworks, a Condo Disaster and Tears

Posted on July 3, 2021 by Brian H. Gill

Cheez-It(r) 'Big Cheese' carving inspired by Mt. Rushmore. (2007)

Grant Hamilton's cartoon comment on William Jennings Bryan's 1896 'Cross of Gold' speech at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago.Patriotism comes in many flavors: cheesy, sour, salty: and that’s enough ‘flavor.’

Maybe too much.

My country’s Independence Day celebration, our Fourth of July, started me thinking about patriotism.

Also screwball notions, drought and Florida’s pancaked condo.

But mostly, the impending holiday is probably why part of an old song has been on my mind’s playlist this week:

“…O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!…”
(“America the Beautiful,” Katharine Lee Bates, 1911 version, via Wikipedia)

So that’s what I’ll start with.

Professor Bates’ train ride from Massachusetts to a job in Colorado Springs inspired “America the Beautiful.” That’s what I’ve been told, at any rate.

Her itinerary explains amber waves of grain and purple mountain majesties. But I figure “alabaster cities” needs explaining. That phrase arguably happened because she stopped by the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago.1

Expo 1893

Charles Dudley Arnold's photo of Chicago Expo 1893; Court of Honor, Columbia fountain.
(From Charles Dudley Arnold, via Meisje L. J. Connor, used w/o permission.)
(“Court of Honor with Columbia fountain in the midground”
Meisje L. J. Connor, “World’s Columbian Exposition 1893: Architecture and Innovation in Context” (2011))

The Columbian Exposition’s nickname was “White City.”

Mainly because the Beaux-Arts city of the future’s buildings had white facades.

That was in 1893.

The exposition was a big success.

Apart from a fire that killed 16 people, and an assassin who killed Chicago’s mayor.

After that, Chicago’s “White City” became a potential white elephant.

Folks talked about upgrading “White City” buildings with real marble. But that’d be expensive. Besides, it might not be the best use of prime Chicago real estate.2

Then, in 1894, a couple fires settled the question.

Chicago’s “White City” in Retrospect

Charles Dudley Arnold's photo of Chicago Expo 1893; Court of Honor, Columbia fountain.
(From unknown artist, via Chicagology.com, used w/o permission.)
(Fire in the “White City:” Peristyle, Music Hall, Casino and Manufactures Building (1894))

A contemporary account said that the fire started in the Casino. Then it ran along the Peristyle into the Music Hall. Whether or not that’s fraught with figurative fancies and rife with significant symbolism — is another topic.

Off the cuff, I’d say “not.” But I could be wrong. A key term there is “fancies.”

Despite the passing of generations, Chicago’s big exposition wasn’t entirely forgotten.

In 1995, someone got 15 minutes of fame by saying that the “White City” stood for male chauvinist racist oppression.3

I’ll grant that America in 1893 wasn’t like my country in 1995. Or 2021, for that matter.

We’ve made changes. Some of those changes have been for the better.

But I won’t let Sixties sensibilities interfere with enjoying and appreciating a song suggesting that America isn’t a complete wash.

Besides, I think “patriot dreams” make sense. Make that can make sense.

Songs and Pigeonholes

Scott Adam's 'Dilbert' strip: Dogbert's Good News Show. ('We'll all die!') (1993)
(From Scott Adams, used w/o permission.)
(Dogbert’s good news show. Made sense in 1993. Still does.)

I wouldn’t mind if professor Bates’ song became my country’s national anthem.

Partly because I think patriot dreams matter at least as much as bombs bursting in air.

That may need explanation, or maybe not; in any case, I’ll back up about six decades.4

I was in my teens when McCarthyism’s dying gasps mingled with lyrics like these:

“…If the mind is baffled
When the rules don’t fit the game,
Who will answer?…”
(“Who Will Answer?” Ed Ames (1967))

“…Go ahead and hate your neighbour
Go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of heaven
You can justify it in the end….”
(“One Tin Soldier” Dennis Lambert, Brian Potter (1969))

“…Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace….”
(“Imagine,” John Lennon (1971))

To this day, the words “patriot” and “conservative” register as ‘crazy person lost in yesteryearning’ — unless I think about it. Which is a reason I make thinking a priority.

I don’t call myself a conservative, liberal, libertarian, or whatever: mainly because today’s sociopolitical pigeonholes and my beliefs aren’t a good match.

I’m a Catholic, so my views on capital punishment, marriage, and staying healthy line up with liberal, conservative, undecided — and that’s yet another topic. Topics.

So, being Catholic, can I be a patriot?

Yes, but it depends on what the word means. I’ll take Merriam-Webster’s definition:5 “one who loves and supports his or her country.”

Love, Faith and Respecting Authority — Within Reason

Edison Lee comic: does anyone even know what truth looks like any more?Because I’m a Catholic, I should act as if loving God and my neighbors matters. And I should see everyone as my neighbor. No exceptions. (Matthew 5:43-44, 7:12, 22:36-40, Mark 12:28-31; 10:25-27, 29-37; Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1789)

That means getting involved in public life — in whatever ways my culture and circumstances permit — recognizing humanity’s solidarity, and respecting authority. Within reason. (Catechism, 1778, 1915, 1897-1917, 1939-1942, 2199, 2238-2243)

That’s easier when my reason and emotions are in sync. But, easy or hard, using my brain is a good idea. (Catechism, 1777-1782)

Seeing my country’s version of government as something that works is okay.

Thinking that everyone should be an American? And that America’s constitutional republic with a strong democratic tradition6 is the only proper political system?

Not so much.

There isn’t one ‘correct’ form of government. Different cultures and eras have different needs, and that’s okay. (Catechism, 1915, 1957-1958)

But, getting back to “am I a patriot?”

On the whole, I like being an American. I think recognizing humanity’s solidarity, doing what I can with my neighbors, and respecting authority — within reason — makes sense.

So, yes: I suppose I’m a patriot.

Washington the Ascended??

Detail of 'The Apotheosis of Washington,' United States Capitol rotunda; Constantino Brumidi. (1865)
(From Constantino Brumidi, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Detail of the U.S. Capital rotunda’s “The Apotheosis of Washington” fresco. (1865))

But that emphatically does not mean I think George Washington is a god, sitting between the goddesses of victory and liberty.7

Or that American presidents execute a divine mandate, trampling Tyranny and Kingly Power while wearing imperial purple.

Even if I hadn’t become a Catholic, spending my teens in the Sixties would have discouraged the notion.

Besides, the way Washington the Ascended is holding that blade, I get the impression that he’s about to stab Victory’s leg. And that’s yet another topic.

Celebrations, Somewhat Subdued

Juneau's harbor: boats and fireworks.A bunch of thoroughly fed-up British subjects signed a Declaration of Independence 245 years ago this Sunday.

I think that’s something to celebrate.

Even though it touched off a war with an 18th century superpower, and indirectly launched centuries of political squabbling. With the occasional brouhaha and one internal war.

But here in Minnesota, we’re discouraged from celebrating. With fireworks, that is. There’s a drought in progress, so sparking a wildfire is easier than usual.

Folks in the Miami-Dade area nixed municipal fireworks, but for another reason.

God Wills It?!!

Marco Bello/Reuters's photo of Surfside, Florida, Condo: bunk bed in what's left of a bedroom. (June 24, 2021)
(From Marco Bello/Reuters, used w/o permission.)
(“A bunk bed is seen in a partially collapsed building in Surfside near Miami Beach, Florida, U.S.” (June 24, 2021)
(Reuters))

Maybe someone’s said that Minnesota’s drought and the Surfside Condo collapse are “God’s will.”

I won’t.

That’s because I’m a Catholic. We’re told that God doesn’t make bad things happen.

“…57. If God is omnipotent and provident, why then does evil exist?
309-310
324, 400
To this question, as painful and mysterious as it is, only the whole of Christian faith can constitute a response. God is not in any way — directly or indirectly — the cause of evil….”
(“Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church” (2005)

I can’t, and won’t try, to summarize “the whole of Christian faith” — but I’ll skip lightly over one or two points.

Free Will

Walt Kelly's Pogo characters and 'Deck Us All With Boston Charlie.' (1961)Like every other human being, I have free will. I can decide what I do, or don’t do. (Catechism, 1730-1738)

God is the Almighty, infinitely good, and “a mystery beyond words;” beyond time and space, “here” in all places and all times. I’d explain how that works, but I can’t. I don’t fully understand God. Nobody, other than God, does. (Catechism, 206, 230, 268, 284, 300, 385, 639, 647-648, 2779)

Basically, God’s God, I’m not.

Now, let’s say that I decide to throw a lit sparkler into dry grass.

That’d be daft, but I could. Free will, remember?

Next, let’s say that God puts out the wildfire I started.

Maybe a highly localized downpour, miraculous evacuation of oxygen from the area: whatever. It’s possible, but I’d say very unlikely.

So, in this hypothetical scenario, I’ve acted like a nitwit arsonist and started a wildfire. Is that “God’s will?” Is God responsible for the property damage and loss of life that may result?

I don’t think so.

And I doubt that ‘it’s God’s fault’ would be my best defense during subsequent trials.

Happily, that’s a hypothetical situation. I won’t be lighting any sparklers this weekend, and wouldn’t chuck them into tinder if I did.

There’s precious little reason for celebration where about half a condo collapsed.

Children, grandparents and parents went to bed Wednesday night and either didn’t wake up, or woke up while their homes fell.

That empty bunk bed may be the most eloquent image from the disaster that I’ve seen.

“…She Heard the Sound of the Tower She Lived in Collapsing…”

Surfside condo collapse: six moments in 21 seconds, from surveillance footage via BBC News. (June 24, 2021)But I’ve run into some not-entirely-bad news, like this:

“…she put her pills and her credit cards in her purse and lit the candle for the Lady Guadalupe, considered a national symbol and matriarch for Mexicans and Mexican-Americans, as well as an important Catholic figure….

“…Believing the feeling came from an open balcony door, she went to her living room to try to close it. But then behind her she saw a crack coming from the ceiling, quickly snaking down the wall and opening fast.

“Something inside of me said run,” Monteagudo said. ‘You have to run to save your life.’

In moments, she put on the first clothes she could find, grabbed her phone and her purse, blew out the candle and ran out of her apartment, she said.

“Once in the hallway, she found quiet: no panic, no alarms and no one else running.

“She knew not to take the elevator but didn’t know that the emergency stairs were just beside her unit, so she went to the farthest set of stairs instead….”
(“A Florida woman saw a crack forming in her condo and told herself, ‘You have to run to save your life’,” Madeline Holcombe, CNN (July 1, 2021))

Monteagudo multi-tasked on her way down the far stairs.

“…as she was flying down the six floors of stairs, pleading with God to let her see her sons and grandsons again, she heard the sound of the tower she lived in collapsing. If she had been in the stairs closest to her home, she likely would have been crushed, her son said….”
(Madeline Holcombe, CNN (July 1, 2021))

Monteagudo’s survival is good news.

But it raises questions.

Some Live, Some Die, I Don’t Know Why

Champlain Towers South condos before and after aerial photo. From BBC News, used w/o permission.Why did God answer her prayers — but, apparently, not those of folks who had a few moments before being crushed?

Why did God let a building with so many folks sleeping in it collapse? And why did the Almighty let folks who could have prioritized repairs on the condo — not do so?

I don’t know.

As I keep saying: God’s God, I’m not. And we should all be very thankful for that. I’m not qualified. Not even close.

Now, the usual allegedly-related stuff:

1 A song and a professor:

2 World’s Fair, Chicago:

3 Expo 1893, legacy:

4 Remembering the Sixties, briefly:

5 Definition:

  • Merriam-Webster dictionary

6 My country, very briefly:

7 I am not making this up:

Posted in Being Catholic, Discursive Detours | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Health and Surfside Condo Collapse: Siloam Scenarios

Posted on June 26, 2021 by Brian H. Gill

Sunday’s rain dampened Sauk Centre’s streets, but delivered under four tenths of an inch.

Ash Street South, Sauk Centre, Minnesota. (June 14, 2021)That’s been good for our weeds, and for grass next to sidewalks. But it’s nowhere near the two or three inches we need to get back to adequate soil moisture in these parts.

Medical issues have been distracting me.

I took one of the kids to an unscheduled clinic checkup with follow-up lab work.

Then another enjoyed, if that’s the word, a day or so in the hospital. Not Sauk Centre’s hospital. One up in North Dakota, near where she lives.

On the ‘up’ side, I’ve been okay this week, which left me free for chauffeur duty.

I’m hoping the next week here will be less eventful.

But, quoting an old Minnesota saying, it could be worse.

I woke up Thursday morning.

A Hallway, a Neighbor and a Balcony

Champlain Towers South condos, old marketing photo.
(From Miami Condo Investments, used w/o permission.)

At least four folks sleeping in a nice Miami/Surfside beachfront condominium didn’t.

Or, maybe, they woke up while being crushed in a collapsing tower.


(From FOX 13 Tampa Bay, via YouTube, used w/o permission.)

Granted, I don’t know that the four known fatalities and maybe 99 missing bodies were asleep when half of Champlain Towers South fell. But since the incident happened at half past one in the morning, give or take, I’d say it’s a reasonable assumption.

Those numbers may have changed by the time you read this.

The last I heard, rescuers have extracted at least 35 survivors from what’s left of Champlain Towers South.

Maybe 11 were injured. All, I’d imagine, were flustered by the incident.

One chap said that he and his wife noticed the commotion, grabbed a few things and scooted out their front door.

Just one problem.

Most of the hallway on their level wasn’t there.

On the other hand, some of it was.

So they looked around, noted an absence of conventional exits, and joined a neighbor on his balcony. Where emergency responders with a crane rescued them.

Distress and DNA

Champlain Towers South condos, website landing page.
(From Champlain Towers South condos, used w/o permission.)

When I saw ‘Miami residence collapse’ headlines in my news feed, my first guess was that the owner of a low-rent building had decided that maintenance and repairs didn’t matter.

Although witless management philosophy may have been a factor, maybe it wasn’t.

All I’m certain of right now is that a few people are definitely dead, and very likely upwards of a hundred and fifty stopped living in the wee hours of Thursday morning.

On the other hand, searchers have heard noises inside the rubble that survivors might be making. Maybe some of the missing folks are alive.

Authorities are getting DNA from relatives of folks who may have been inside. That’ll help sort out who’s who while sifting through rubble and remains.

Names and Loss

Champlain Towers South condos before and after aerial photo.
(From BBC News, used w/o permission.)

I figure it’s bad news when anyone’s squashed in their sleep. Or while awake, for that matter. But I also figure it’s natural that a victim’s status matters. At least to folks connected with the stricken bigwigs.

Paraguayans, for example, have probably lost their First Lady’s sister and her family.

Folks with name recognition in Chile are missing, too.

Champlain Towers South was also home to folks from Argentina, Venezuela, Colombia and Uruguay.

Maybe that’s why Miami search and rescue folks have been getting help. Or maybe city, state and national decision-makers see the incident as a situation where folks need help. I strongly suspect the latter’s closer to the mark.

It’s early days, but I’ve been glad to see no wild accusations or crackpot assertions. Not that I’ve looked for such.

I figure it’s just a matter of time before someone gets attention by blaming the current or former American president. Or by claiming that an Agarthan-Masonic-Colombian cabal collapsed the condos.

Meanwhile, we’ve learned a few names.

Jonah Handler, 15, and his mother lived in Champlain Towers South. He’s alive. His mother is missing.

Stacie Fang, 54, endured blunt-force injuries but died at Aventura Hospital.

Barry Cohen, his wife and a neighbor waited on a balcony until rescuers arrived with a crane.

Some folks lost their homes Thursday morning. Some lost their lives. Others lost friends and family. No pressure, but prayer for all of the above couldn’t hurt.

Expectations

Surfside Condominium: a human and canine search and rescue team.
(From Miami-Dade Fire Rescue Department, via Wikipedia, used w/o permission.)
(Search and rescue in the Champlain Towers South ruins. (June 24, 2021))

There’s more to say about the Champlain Towers South collapse.

Some of it’s being said in the news, although the George Floyd trial’s taken over top billing in my news feed. Possibly because I live in Minnesota.

I expect we’ll see the usual progression: names and mini-biographies of the dead, pronouncements by politicos, speculation by experts; and eventually analysis and discussion of why a high-end residential tower built in 1981 pancaked in 2021.

Memento Mori, Carpe Diem and Me

Pieter Claesz's 'Vanitas Still Life.' (1630)I was going to be writing about prayer this week, but between two family health-related situations and Thursday’s news haven’t got more than a few notes.

Looks like I’m more ruffled that I’d realized. Ruffled? Flustered? You get the idea.

I could try bluffing my way through what I’d planned. But that doesn’t look like a good idea. So instead I’ll repeat — paraphrase? — what I’ve said before.

Life happens.

Death happens.

Breaks in routine are, by definition, unexpected.

Assuming that God smites sinners, and that therefore folks experiencing breaks in routine are naughty, is all too common.

Jesus talked about that.

“Or those eighteen people who were killed when the tower at Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than everyone else who lived in Jerusalem?
“By no means! But I tell you, if you do not repent, you will all perish as they did!'”
(Luke 13:4–5)

The old cliche — ‘[verb] in haste, repent at leisure’ — notwithstanding, I can’t be sure how much leisure I’ll have.

I’ve got free will, so I’ve got options. Lots of options.

I could take a page from my culture’s spiritual tradition, writhing in anguish and making life miserable for myself and anyone in earshot.

Or I could be more up-to-date, proclaim that all this religious stuff is a scam, and [verb] like there’s no tomorrow. Which, eventually, there wouldn’t be. For me.

Those options strike me as silly at best. So I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing: trying to avoid my [verbs], and keep trying when I fail in that effort.

And praying. I’ll keep praying. Maybe I’ll get around to writing about that next week.

Then again, maybe not.

In any case, here’s the seemingly-inevitable list of links. And after that, links to resources I used while writing this.

Posted in Discursive Detours, Journal | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Blue Sky, Tan Grass, Second COVID-19 Shot and Fever

Posted on June 19, 2021 by Brian H. Gill

I’ve been enjoying this week’s bright blue skies and sunshine. I’d have been enjoying them more, if I hadn’t been recovering from my second COVID-19 shot.

And if our skies hadn’t been quite so consistently clear.

Sunshine’s fine, but we need rain.

On the ‘up’ side, my body’s response to the mRNA vaccine could have been much worse.

June 2021, Minnesota: Not Nearly Enough Water

Minnesota drought conditions. (June 14, 2021)
(From Drought.gov, used w/o permission.)
(Drought in Minnesota. (June 14, 2021))

A lull in this month’s heat advisories has been nice. But, again — rain, a good steady day-long rain — that’s what we need.

We almost got a few sprinkles around mid-week, and weather forecasts suggest that we’ll have a damp weekend.

So maybe this household’s front yard will green up. Or maybe it won’t. What’s more important: maybe this year’s crops will yield enough, letting area farmers at least break even.

None of this is entirely good news, but I see a few ‘up’ sides.

For one thing, Minnesotans should be used to weather extremes. Like back in 2013, when homeowners — and farmers — coped with spring floods and a drought.

And, judging from the overwhelming majority of parched lawns I see in my neighborhood, most of us don’t mind helping each other by not squandering what someone else needs. Or at least cooperate, whether or not we like it.

Recent Records

Minnesota drought conditions. (2000-2021)
(From Drought.gov, used w/o permission.)
(Minnesota droughts since 2000.)

The first list of droughts I found included one in 1540, another couple from 1875 to 1878; and then dozens after 1900.

Exercising considerable creative license, I could say that 20th century droughts were due to a dyspeptic deity’s snit over the 1-2 ton sailing event’s gold medal in the 1900 Summer Olympics.

Or that they were part of a capitalistic imperialistic warmonger plot to impede the glorious worker’s revolution.

But I won’t. That’d be silly.

So would be weaving a tale around Minnesota weather in 2007 and 2013 — claiming that those drought years were retribution for my state’s 2006 and 2012 elections.1

I was going somewhere with this. But where?

Bright blue skies, parched lawns, weather reports and crackpot ideas. Right.

Not-So-Recent Records

Minnesota monthly precipitation.
(From Drought.gov, used w/o permission.)
(Minnesota monthly precipitation. (1895-2021))

Folks were living here in central North America long before Columbus followed up on Leif Erikson’s none-too-well-documented visit. But detailed and consistent weather records don’t go back much over one and a quarter centuries.

Small wonder that major droughts seem to start around 1900.

One of these days I’ll revisit what we’ve been learning about Earth’s long story, and ours, but not today. Not in detail, at any rate.

Lisiecki and Raymo's five million years of climate change. (2005) used w/o permissionBriefly and very basically, scientists started realizing and accepting that Earth’s climate hadn’t always been the same around the mid-19th century.

Paleoclimatology’s roots arguably go back to Aristotle’s day, at least. But as a science, it’s one of those things that started in the 20th century.

On a geologic scale, events like the Dust Bowl — serious as they were — are statistical hiccups compared to, say, the 4.2 kiloyear event.

Which may or may not have ended Egypt’s Old Kingdom, seriously inconvenienced the Akkadian Empire and generally wreaked havoc in the good old days when folks like me knew their place.

Around the Yangtze River Delta, at least.2

Which is not where my ancestors lived, and that’s another topic.

So, concerned as I am about the front yard and my region’s farms, I’d be mightily surprised if we’re looking at the opening act of “Late Bronze Age Collapse: The Legend Continues.”

And my angst deficit on the climate front relates, I think, to my reasons for getting COVID-19 vaccinations. Even though I was expecting this week’s unpleasantness.

Interlude: Friday’s Red Flag Warning

National Weather Service map. (21:09 UTC June 18, 2021)

Well, that’s interesting. The National Weather Service says that we’re having fire weather Friday: from noon to 7:00 p.m. local time.

It’s a “Red Flag Warning,” which in this case means winds from 15 to 20 miles an hour, gusts to 30 or so; humidity 20 percent, give or take; which means that “outdoor burning is not recommended.”

Weather like this may explain why our neighbors haven’t been having their evening backyard campfires. Good for them, and I hope conditions permit that sort of recreation later in the season

COVID-19 Pandemic: Dealing with Unpleasantness

Michel Serre's 'Vue du Cours pendant la peste de 1720.' (1721)
(From Michel Serre, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Plague in Marseille. (1720))

There’s an old Minnesota saying: “it could be worse.”

It doesn’t make the COVID-19 pandemic, this summer’s drought, or my discomfort better. But it is, I think, a reminder that what I’m experiencing isn’t the absolute worst that’s ever happened to anyone.

Like folks in the good old days of Marseille, 1720. When the merry rumble of corpse-wagons rang through the streets.

'At the Sign of the UNHOLY THREE' cartoon, warning against fluoridated water, polio serum and mental hygiene. And 'communistic world government.' (1955)Or the halcyon days of my childhood, when some kids got polio vaccines in time.3

And some didn’t.

I was inoculated, and never had polio.

I was, however, at an age where I might have gotten the crippling disease. My limp suggested that I might have. And that’s another topic.

The point is that I’ve had opportunities for learning why vaccinations can make sense.

Even if the vaccines are new. And, in the imaginations of some, part of a “communistic world government” conspiracy.

Or, more recently, an alleged malevolent Manchurian machination manipulated by the dread North Carolina-China axis.

I am not making that up. (December 5, 2020)

Mini Magic Microchips?!

I’m not making this up, either:

It’s nice, sort of, knowing that my country doesn’t have a monopoly on crackpots.

On the other hand….

If the current crop of cuckoo crank conspiracy theories was the first I’d noticed, then I’d have reason for concern. Or might think I have, at any rate.

But I remember when “I saw it online” replaced “I read it in a book” as a catchphrase indicating credulity above and beyond the call of reason.

I don’t know why folks — including some who arguably should know better — fall for wacky claims: but they do, and that’s another topic for another day.

Phizer and Preferences: a Recap

Dr. Francis Collins/NIH infographic: how mRNA vaccines work. (July 16, 2020)
(From NIH Director’s Blog, used w/o permission.)
(Here’s how COVID-19 mRNA vaccines work. (2020))

Recapping what I said last week: I’ve had the Phizer mRNA vaccine. Twice, now.

It wasn’t developed from the cells of someone who’d been killed in the 1970s, but it was tested with the HEK 293 cell line.

I’d prefer living in a world where low-status folks weren’t killed and broken down for parts.

But my preferences won’t change what’s happened, and I’m responsible for what I can do. Or not do, as the case may be.

The Phizer mRNA vaccine, again, isn’t made from repurposed human body parts. It does, however, contain snippets of RNA code from the COVID-19 virus: SARS-CoV-2​.

Just snippets. Not the whole virus: just cellular DIY instructions for making the SARS-CoV-2​ spike protein.4

Side Effects

SPQR10's illustration of a SARSr-CoV virion. (2020)I started running a fever after getting that second COVID-19 shot.

But I don’t have COVID-19.

My body’s immune system has been responding to those spike proteins, making me feel less than perky.

That’s what I expected, so I also figure I’ll have a limited immunity to this particular version of the COVID-19 virus.

It’s not a perfect situation. But as I keep saying, this isn’t a perfect world. I do what I can, and try to avoid fretting over what I can’t.

My fever hasn’t been nearly as impressive as my son’s: no surprise, since I’m considerably older than he is. So far, I’ve scored two out of the seven top unpleasant side effects of the Phizer COVID-19 vaccine:5

  • Pain and swelling at the injection site
  • Tiredness
  • Headache
  • Muscle aches
  • Chills
  • Joint pain
  • Fever

And my fever has been underwhelming, too:

  • Saturday, June 12
    100.0
  • Sunday
    99.8
  • Monday
    99.2
  • Tuesday
    98.7
  • Wednesday
    99.6
  • Thursday
    100.5
  • Friday
    100.6

Then again, I’ve been feeling just blah enough to keep me from focusing on the sort of research-intensive thing I might have written.

One more point, and I’d better wrap this up.

Life, the Universe and Me

CDC: Clinical Resources for Each COVID-19 Vaccine.I haven’t been demanding first place in the COVID-19 vaccination line, mainly because I don’t get out much and figure the odds of my catching the disease are low.

I didn’t mind being told that it’s my turn, because I’d prefer not catching an unpleasant disease which might, given my health issues, be very unpleasant.

And I sure didn’t resist being vaccinated, because I see the procedure as part of an effort to keep other folks from catching the disease.

Life, the universe and everything isn’t all about me.

Acting as if I value the life and health of my neighbors is part of being Catholic. So is working for the common good. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, One/Two/Article 2 Participation in Social Life/II: The Common Good, 2258-2317)

I’ve talked about this before. Rather often:

1 Assorted stuff:

2 A small sampling from humanity’s long story:

3 Disease and not missing the ‘good old days:’

4 New disease, new vaccines:

5 Side effects:

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The Unmasked Minnesotan’s Second COVID-19 Shot

Posted on June 11, 2021 by Brian H. Gill

I haven’t been wearing a face mask when I go to Mass, the Adoration chapel or Walmart. But I do carry one in my pocket when I go out, just in case the rules have changed. Again.

Most folks I’ve been seeing stopped wearing face masks when pandemic-related restrictions eased up. If I see someone with a face mask in Walmart, the odds are that the person works there.

As a rule, non-employee mask wearers seem to be young, old, somewhere between, and either men or women.

I figure it depends on the individual’s general health and willingness to put up with slightly-used air. And maybe willingness to believe that face masks make sense.

Since I’d only had my first COVID-19 shot, I should probably have kept my mask on — in an abundance of caution, and assuming that somehow I’d become infected. But I haven’t. Kept wearing a face mask, that is. Because I figured that’d be an overabundance of caution.

Except when I went to the clinic or hospital, where the rules say I wear a mask. Which makes sense, because folks who aren’t particularly healthy are more likely to be near me. So I figure, since there’s a very remote chance that I’m infectious, extra caution is a good idea.

If Wishes Were Horses….

Political cartoons. (1896, 1912)

I’d have preferred that the Minnesota Department of Health, CDC and all had been giving completely consistent advice during this pandemic.

And had known exactly how the COVID-19 virus spreads. Since day one.

Certain foreknowledge of COVID-19 vaccine development would have been nice, too.

Along with — you know, while I’m at it, I might as well wish that the COVID-19 coronavirus had never existed.

And I’d be a very happy camper indeed, if politicos stopped acting like politicos and started acting as if our health and lives mattered more than their pet projects, preferences and Washington party life.

But it’s not all bad news from inside the beltway.

I’ve been seeing hints in headlines that my country’s big shots feel like reviewing how the COVID-19 coronavirus started and has been spreading. Maybe they’ll even decide to pay attention to what scientists think. And that’s quite enough snark from me today.

Another ‘up’ side is that a significant fraction of decision-makers may have been using available data, and trying balance our need to keep folks healthy with our need to keep folks employed. And thereby fed.

I can hope so, at any rate.

Reasonably, I suspect, since the mess we’re in could be worse.

Good News, another ‘Up’ Side and Intermittent Frustration

My methylphenidate prescription, with one day left. (June 10, 2021)

More good news.

This month’s authorization for my methylphenidate prescription didn’t disappear into digital limbo. And I was allowed to pick the meds up on Thursday. With one whole day left in the previous month’s bottle.

That’s really good news. I’ve learned that going on half-dose can stretch my supply until a bureaucratic SNAFU gets untangled, or at least make withdrawal less unpleasant.

The issue in play is that methylphenidate is a controlled substance. My body became dependent on the stimulant soon after I began taking it. Which is what I expected.

What I hadn’t expected was that getting monthly authorizations to keep using my brain would be so intermittently frustrating.

Or that as a result I’d experience withdrawal. Several times. Since it’s a prescribed medicine, my withdrawals were called “discontinuation syndrome.” But that’s a euphemism, like saying “passed away” instead of “died.”

Either way, experiencing anxiety, depression, and the like — all cranked up to about 12 on a scale of one to ten — was unpleasant.

But there’s been an ‘up’ side. I now know what withdrawal feels like, which gives me a glimmer at least of what other folks have experienced. And the experiences gave me incentive to find ways to minimize the odds of going through that unpleasantness again.

A major step in minimizing the odds was getting the authorization process handled in this town, and that’s another topic.

Memories and Preference

'Reefer Madness' (1936, released 1938-1939) theatrical release poster. (1972)My youth and the Sixties overlap, so I remember why my country’s government puts barriers between me and medications I need.

That doesn’t keep me from feeling annoyed each time I request permission to use my brain for another month. That’s not quite accurate, but that’s what it feels like.

I also acknowledge that folks can misuse methylphenidate. Or pretty much anything else.

And I’d prefer that depression and an extensive list of other psychiatric issues not be part of my life. But they are. And I’ve talked about that before.

Weather and Taking It Easy

Continental U.S. Weather. From National Weather Service, used w/o permission. (1600 UTC, June 10, 2021)

Thursday was hot here in central Minnesota. We had a heat advisory going until 8:00 p.m. local time.

That’s why I went out for the meds in the morning, and took it easy the rest of the day. Along with drinking water, which I do anyway.

Taking it easy, but doing arm exercises that dropped off my habitual radar some years back. That was, in 20-20 hindsight, a mistake. And probably helps explain why my right shoulder has been giving me fits lately.

The good news there — another ‘up’ side — is that my right shoulder hasn’t been nearly as exasperating as it has been. Or is that exacerbating? Never mind.

Another point on the plus side is that the irregular cycle I talked about a couple weeks back is heading away from its low end.

That’s nice. I haven’t exactly been feeling perky, and won’t be but like I said: that’s nice. Nice having my feelings on a generally upward trend, that is.

Between being barely into the start of an upswing in my blah-mediocre cycle, and uncertainty about outcomes from my second COVID-19 shot, I’ve been focusing more on how I feel than what I think and what I’ve learned.

The Phizer mRNA Vaccine and Me: Doing What I Can

COVID-19 Vaccination Record Card. (June 11, 2021)

I’m wrapping this up Friday afternoon, June 11.

I got my second COVID-19 shot Friday morning, chatted with one of the nurses while waiting the obligatory 15 minutes, and have been waiting to see what happens next.

Everybody’s different, but I gather that the bell curve for when folks start feeling effects is about eight hours after the injection.

Like I said, everybody’s different. My son’s fever shot up, which resulted in a trip to the emergency room and a long chat. That was back in May.

I’m considerably older than my son, so — if my experience is typical — my immune system may not react so vigorously. I’m not sure about that being good news. But I’d also prefer not going through what he did.

Let’s see, what else?

Right! My first and second COVID-19 shot was the Phizer mRNA vaccine.

An ‘up’ side there is that the Phizer vaccine was not developed using cells from someone who had been killed in the early 1970s.

But researchers did use the HEK 293 cell line in Phizer testing. (December 16, 2020)

I don’t like that. But I also don’t like risking lives — directly or indirectly — by refusing vaccination for this disease.

I don’t live in a perfect world. So I do what I can, try not to fret about what I can’t, and pay attention to what my bishops say:

Taking Precautions


(Just in case, a bed near my desk. (June 11, 2021))

My family had a surprise for me when I came home this morning.

They’d set up a bed a dozen feet or so from my desk. Just in case I start feeling a preference for horizontal posture later today. I greatly appreciate that.

There’s more to say. Like why I’d prefer being perfectly healthy but don’t have a problem with taking reasonably good care of my health, why I still think taking methylphenidate makes sense, and a mess of other vaguely-related ideas.

But I’ve said most of it before:

One more thing, from Minnesota Department of Health:

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Hubris, Stories, and That Which Might Exist

Posted on June 5, 2021 by Brian H. Gill

I’m intrigued by that which:

  • Exists within this universe
  • Exists beyond
  • Might exist

I’ve talked about “that which exists within this universe,” what we’ve been learning about it, and why science doesn’t upset me. I’ve talked about it a lot.

Basically, I’m a Christian and a Catholic. I think truth matters.

Faith is in part a pursuit of truth. Science is a pursuit of truth. As Pope Leo XIII said, “truth cannot contradict truth.” Sometimes we learn something new, but I really don’t see that as a problem.

I’ve talked about what the Nicene Creed calls ‘invisible,’ too. Which isn’t church-speak for electromagnetic phenomena outside visible spectrum. And that’s not quite another topic.

John Tenniel's Cheshire Cat illustration for Lewis Carroll's 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.' (1865)But I’ve written precious little about stuff that might exist. And why I don’t see a problem with being a Christian and enjoying stories. Or writing them.

So that’s what I’ll be talking about today: along with hubris, Homer, a hurricane and whatever else comes to mind.

Aiming High

A commonplace book. From the James Marshall and Marie-Louise Osborn Collection, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University. (17th century)
(From Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Someone’s notebook, containing poems. (Mid-17th century))

I was probably 11 or 12 years old when I thought about what I should do with my life. Or maybe 13 or 14.

I’d be more certain about when that was if I’d kept a diary. But I didn’t, apart from a brief attempt several years later.

After writing a few entries, I read a bit of what I’d written; and noticed that I’d been feeling very, very angry at the time.

That was an unpleasant experience, one that didn’t seem worth repeating, so I filed keeping a diary under ideas that sound good but don’t work. Not for me, at any rate. And that’s another topic.

I’m not sure when that ‘what do I want to do’ moment happened, but I know where it was. I was in 818 10th Street South’s back yard, near the house, facing east. That’s the house I grew up in. The neighborhood’s a parking lot for Minnesota State University Moorhead these days.

Anyway, I knew that I wanted to do something that would be noteworthy and remembered. Hubris? Maybe. Then again, maybe not. I’ll get back to that.

Legacies

Walls of Troy VII's acropolis. (ca. 1200 BC)There were the culturally-normative things, of course: become a star athlete, set a record of some sort; start a highly-successful business; get elected President of the United States.

I don’t remember even thinking about the first option.

I’m a cripple, handicapped, or whatever the current euphemism is. I could and can walk well enough. Running was possible, although none too effective or graceful.

And jumping — there was the time a high school gym instructor insisted that I could and must jump a hurdle. Which I did, and that’s a story for another day.

In any case, I realized that world-famous record holders don’t stay famous for long. Either someone sets a new record, or the sport fades from fashion.

So much for sports.

Storytellers

Quintano Media's photo of New York City's Times Square New Year's Eve celebration. (2020)What about commercial or political success? Best-case scenario, I could become the next Henry Ford or Andrew Jackson.

But again, the fame wouldn’t last. Sooner or later, my industry or country would be filed away in humanity’s archives.

So much for culturally-normative things.

I started going through achievements that folks remembered over significant spans of time: and that still mattered. It’s a short list.

I finally picked Homer’s two famous stories: the Iliad and the Odyssey.

Granted, very few folks understand ancient Greek these days. And the epic poem’s pretty much off my culture’s radar.

But the stories? Even folks who hadn’t read translations of Homer’s epics had read or seen adaptations of them. Or knew about the Iliad and Odyssey.

So I decided that I wanted to be the next Homer.

A few years later I read J. R. R. Tolkien’s ‘ring’ trilogy, and realized that my era’s great work had already been written. My opinion. But I think I’m right.

Still later, I started running across academic assertions that Homer hadn’t composed the Iliad and Odyssey. And that Homer wasn’t a real person.1

My favorite, and I’m still not sure whether it’s a joke or if someone really said it, is that Homer didn’t compose those epic poems. They’d been made up by someone living in Homer’s day — who just happened to be named Homer.

Smudged Footnotes

Me, Brian H. Gill, on St. Patrick's Day. (2021)Wondering ‘what I want to be when I grow up’ is, I gather, normal for someone who’s around 12 years old.

I don’t know how many kids think about lasting legacies, and go back a couple three millennia before finding a role model.

But as I said last week, I’m not normal.

As for thinking that a legacy isn’t “lasting” unless it outlives its civilization of origin: both my parents were librarians, among other things. My father, at least, was no more prone to silent reserve than I am.

Their awareness extended beyond current fads, fears and foibles.

I didn’t know all that much about humanity’s long story at the time, but I had some notion as to the ease with which the most illustrious personages became smudged footnotes in the annals of antiquity.

Hubris and Mount St. Helens

Rocky Kolberg's view of the Mount St. Helens mushroom cloud, taken 35 miles from the eruption. (May 18, 1980)
(From Rocky Kolberg, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)

Make no mistake. Humanity is hot stuff.

“Then God said: Let us make human beings in our image, after our likeness….”
(Genesis 1:26)

“What is man that you are mindful of him,
and a son of man that you care for him?
“Yet you have made him little less than a god,
crowned him with glory and honor.
“You have given him rule over the works of your hands,
put all things at his feet….”
(Psalms 8:5–7)

We’re still made in God’s image, with the authority and power that comes with our nature.

The writer who said ‘now that we control the forces of nature’ wasn’t entirely wrong.

We really do rule the things of this world.

But “little less than a god” isn’t “God.”

Although we’ve been learning to control previously-unknown forces of nature, when Mount St. Helens exploded, the best we could do was try staying out of the way. And collect data.

Weather Control: It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

1947 Hurricane Eight's storm track.Weather control looked like a practical possibility in my youth.

Meteorology was changing from a study of yesterday’s weather into a reliable predictive science. Researchers had even been testing weather control technology.

But a modified hurricane made a U-turn in 1947, and the Black Hills Flood of 1972 started with a storm that had been seeded.

The last I heard, at least one analysis says that energy released by the 1947 experiment couldn’t have turned Hurricane Eight. And courts ruled that there wasn’t enough evidence to connect cloud seeding and the Black Hills disaster.2

Even so, I think an apparent moratorium on weather control field testing was prudent.

So what, if anything, does a wayward hurricane and an exploding mountain have to do with hubris?

Not much, actually. What I had in mind was our attitude.

Cautionary Tales

Paul Manship's Prometheus sculpture for Rockefeller Center (New York City) lower plaza. (1934) Photo by Balon Greyjoy. (2013)
(From Balon Greyjoy, via Wikimedia Commons, used w/o permission.)
(Prometheus sculpture for Rockefeller Center’s lower plaza. (Paul Manship, 1934))

Science fiction movie poster collage: 'The Man with the X-Ray Eyes,' 'The Fly' (1958), 'The Brain That Wouldn't Die,' 'Cosmic Monsters.'Hubris is dignity on steroids, self-confidence above and beyond the call of reason.

Ancient Greeks saw hubris as an offense against the natural order, and told stories, cautionary tales, showing why it was a bad idea.

Oedipus tried sidestepping the Delphic oracle’s prediction: that he’d kill his father and sleep with his mother. And ended up doing both, blinding himself in the process.

Prometheus crossed the line by stealing fire from the gods and giving it to humans.

Then there’s Icarus, who not only tried to fly, but flew too close to the sun.

It’s been a long time since I heard variations on the ‘if God had meant man to fly’ joke, and I’m drifting off topic.

Or maybe not so much.

Prometheus, Zeus and a Preacher-Man

Studio Foglio's Mr. Squibbs, used w/o permission.Although dramatic conventions have changed as millennia rolled by, cautionary tales still warn against “tampering with things man was not supposed to know.”

Or, in the “Prometheus Bound” scenario, smuggling contraband technology to mortals.

Prometheus “…I sought the fount of fire in hollow reed
Hid privily, a measureless resource
For man, and mighty teacher of all arts.
This is the crime that I must expiate
Hung here in chains, nailed ‘neath the open sky. Ha! Ha!…”
(“Prometheus Bound,” Aeschylus (ca. 430 BC) via The Internet Classics Archive, MIT)

“Dr. James Xavier: “I’m blind to all but a tenth of the universe.”
Dr. Sam Brant: “My dear friend, only the gods see everything.”
Dr. James Xavier: “My dear doctor, I’m closing in on the gods.”
(“X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes” (1963), via IMDB.com)

As I see it, there’s a moral to both stories.

Since “Prometheus Bound” begins and ends with humanity’s benefactor enduring the wrath of Zeus, I figure Aeschylus was saying either ‘don’t mess with Zeus,’ or maybe ‘don’t play with fire.’ but that doesn’t make sense. Not to me.

“X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes,” in contrast, doesn’t depict direct divine vengeance.

Dr. James Xavier, it seems, tells a revivalist evangelical — evangelical revivalist? Never mind — that he’s starting to see things at the edge of the universe. The preacher-man quotes Matthew 5:29, whereupon Dr. Xavier gouges his own eyes out.3

So, what does this all mean?

If I thought “Prometheus Bound” and “X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes” were all there is to Western culture and Christian philosophy, then I might write off both as bad ideas.

I don’t, so I won’t; And now I’ve definitely drifted off-topic.

Homer, Pride and Me

Gustave Dore's illustration for Poe's 'The Raven.' (1884))I’ve decided to have something new ready each Saturday morning and I lost track of time this week, so I’ll slap down a few ideas and call it a day.

Hubris, feeling that I’m the biggest thing since sliced bread, is a bad idea.

Assuming that I’m not the biggest thing since whatever, that is.

That’s pride, and that’s a sin. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1866)

But note that the sort of pride that’s sinful is the “hubris” variety.

Pretending that I’m a miserable wretch, fit only for eternity’s ashcan, is also a bad idea.

Like everyone else, I’m made “in the image of God.” And, like all of God’s creation, and like each of us, I am basically “very good.” Very basically. The first of us put personal preference above God’s will, a monumentally bad idea. But God didn’t change our nature. We’re wounded, but not corrupted. (Genesis 1:27, 31, 3:1-19; Catechism, 31, 299, 355-361, 374-379, 398, 400-–406, 405, 1701-1707, 1949)

If all that sounds familiar, it should. I’ve said pretty much the same thing rather often.

Let’s see, what else? Hubris. Pride. Sin. Right!

Sin is something that offends reason, truth, “right conscience” — and God. (Catechism, 1849-1851)

Now, about wanting to be the next Homer.

If I felt that I deserved it, then I’d have problems. I didn’t, and don’t, so I’m not overly concerned about emulating Icarus.

As to whether or not telling stories is okay, I’m quite sure that it is. But discussing why I think so, and what Tolkien said about fairy stories — that will wait for another day.

And so will my explanation for why I’m shifting focus onto “that which might exist.”

Meanwhile, here are the usual links to what I’ve already written:

1 Some guy who’s more famous than me, and poems some scholars say he didn’t write:

2 I’ve talked about weather control before, and probably will again:

3 Cautionary tales and/or making sense:

Posted in Being a Writer, Being Catholic, Creativity, Discursive Detours, Series | Tagged , , | 4 Comments