There was an article by Tom Carson in the July/August Atlantic Monthly about teenagers and high school. Carson starts his article with the proposition that high school is the quintessential American experience, our truest common denominator. He then gives a few examples of how other writers have used high school as a reference point. One of those examples regards politics: “high school with power”. It was his follow-up observation, however, that captured my interest. Here it is: “and man, could Grover Norquist use a wedgie”.

Well, I’m not all that savvy on politics, so I had to look Mr. Norquist up. It turns out that he’s a top Republican political strategist, one of those smart guys behind the scenes. Tax issues and economics appear to be Mr. Norquist’s forte; he is credited as the genius behind Mr. Bush’s successful effort last year to cut taxes mostly for the rich (and thus swell our national deficit, all for the sake of our wealthiest 1%).

I found a picture of Mr. Norquist on his foundation’s web site. Here it is. Does this look like a guy who should have his britches violently upended on the way to history class?

Definitely.

DREAM SEQUENCE: Freud and his followers say that dreams are loaded with hidden and not-so-hidden meanings. I really wonder just how true that is. I know that some people have vivid dreams with intricate plot lines ripe for psychoanalysis. As to me, I seldom have dreams with any discernable theme to them. Most days I wake up with no memory of dreaming at all. And even when I do, my dreams aren’t very memorable. They mostly seem like fleeting, mundane images; e.g., I may be walking in a park for a second or two, then outside a warehouse, then in a car. On those rare occasions when my somnolent impressions have any discernable significance, their meaning is usually quite obvious; e.g., my anxiety that my new landlord is going to disrupt my peace and quiet by rebuilding the house (and then raise my rent!). In other words, my sleeping mind doesn’t seem to put a lot of energy into devising clever and symbolic ways of expressing my deepest desires and taboos. It just tries to get some rest.

The other night, though, I had a weird dream, weird enough to remember. In this dream, I was outdoors on a city street (could have been anywhere, the landscape wasn’t very memorable), and it was night. I was looking up at the dark sky and I could see a strange, glowing patch, bigger than a full moon, partly blocked by some buildings. This glowing area was brighter than a cluster of stars but not as bright as the moon, and had a strange swirly shape to it. I remember walking around to see it better from behind the buildings. A stranger said that it was from two different things way out in space. Then a little later, someone else said no, it’s only one thing, a ghost cloud. This wasn’t your ordinary cloud; it was way out there. It seemed uncanny and vaguely threatening, but not immediately dangerous. No need to run, but no cause to relax either.

Well, the dream could have ended right there, but then came act II. Still late at night in a city, like some scene from a Batman movie. Still a strange glowing cloud up in the skyline. But now, this guy that I used to know and haven’t seen for five years shows up. Marty is his name. Nice enough fellow, I helped him to get his job as an administrator at a social service agency. Now, before you Freudians start postulating some repressed homoerotic attraction on my part, let me tell the rest of the story. Marty comes over and looks at the cloud with me. He doesn’t seem afraid of it at all. He seems to think that it has some wondrous, mystical meaning behind it. He tells me that we just don’t know what that cloud is. I ask him, is that mostly because we haven’t sent any spaceships out to explore it yet? Marty then says no, we can never know what that celestial cloud is. Heavy, man!

Then I woke up and looked at the clock. 12:45 AM. Yea, not surprising. If I’m gonna have a weird dream, it’s usually early in the night, right around 1. No big deal, I usually get back to sleep pretty easily when I have them. I just rolled over and told myself that there is no “ghost cloud” out there; NASA and NORAD have got the heavens covered. Then it’s 5:30, no more ghost cloud dreams (or any other dreams), and it’s time to get up. All is normal.

Next morning, I thought about it some more. What did I eat that might have triggered all that? And where did Marty come from? Well, I didn’t eat anything funny that night, but just before going to bed I listened to a CD lecture about 18th Century philosopher David Hume and how he debunked the attempts of 17th Century thinkers who postulated that we can come to know God through the beautiful design of our Universe. OK, my subconscious was probably having some indigestion over that, given that I’ve also put some stock in the “natural theology” approach. And Marty? Oh, yea, I recall him having a simple albeit intelligent faith in the ultimate goodness of his employer, his Catholic religion, and his overall place in the world. As opposed to my existential skepticism regarding all of those things. Yea, Marty would be the guy who would have faith in the ultimate goodness of the unknown and the unknowable.

What is the ultimate lesson here? Hmmm … I’m not sure. But from now on, I’m gonna avoid both pizza and those Teaching Company lectures just before bedtime!

DRAFT BEER, DRAFT STUDENTS: There’s been talk lately of bringing back the military draft. So far, talk is all it is. Some Democratic congressmen, including Charles Rangel of New York, have introduced legislation (S89 / HR163) that would require all men and women between 19 and 26 to perform two years of national service, which would be in the military or possibly in some form of domestic service work. The Republicans aren’t getting behind these bills (that would be suicide just before a big election), so for now it’s little more than a publicity stunt.

Rangel, as a Democrat, seems at first like an unlikely sponsor of a pro-military bill. However, as a black legislator with enough stomach for racial politics, Rangel wants to put more white skin in the game, so as to give our leadership pause the next time they decide to send the boys overseas. (And girls. Rangel’s bill won’t let them off as in the past). The next “Operation Freedom” would thus mix sophomores from Yale and Harvard in with the brothers and sisters from Newark and Oakland. In theory, anyway.

It’s pretty clear that the U.S. military is smaller than it’s been in the past, and is taking a lot of wear and tear from the Iraq situation. The Rumsfeld concept of a fast shock-and-awe operation that relies heavily on high tech equipment was successful in gaining ground, but not in holding it. We really wouldn’t be ready today if a lot of troops were suddenly needed somewhere else (say, Korea?). If Bush is still in the White House come late January, fear of the D-word might well diminish once it was recaptured from the Democratic rogues. And hey, the Democrats also have a history as happy warriors; a veteran like Kerry might also claim a need to call upon our young men and women to help our nation meet its international responsibilities.

My first instinct is to oppose a return of the draft and let our young people have their lives (as I was lucky enough to have had; the Vietnam draft ended just as I reached the age). But then again, perhaps Congressman Rangel has a point. If our leaders, Republican or Democrat, actually had to think about their own children and nephews (and now, even nieces) when considering future Iraq-like operations, their thinking process might become that much more focused. Maybe the USA would then avoid getting stupid and thinking that we can run the world without the consensus and support of our major allies. (That is, if we have any left).

TWO STRANGE PHENOMENA: Number 1: Madonna in her Jewish phase. “Esther”, as she would have it. The Material Girl as Queen of Kabbalah. Far out.

Number 2: Cosmic strings. Even farther out. These aren’t your usual superstrings. Many cosmologists think that the universe went thru some heavy changes during the first minute of its existence, changes that included phase transition and symmetry breaking. When things goes thru phase transitions, they often develop topological defects; sort of like the cracks that develop when water turns to ice. Some of these defects in the Universe may turn out to be huge strings of pure energy that warp the fabric of spacetime. If you were to get caught between one of these strings and a black hole, you might even get transported into the past (if you could survive the crushing gravity force).

Next year, the LIGO project to detect gravity waves will become operational. If there are cosmic strings out there, this may be the thing that will pick them up. But whatever the LIGO scientists detect, the observation of gravity waves will open up a whole new way of looking at space; it will probably be responsible for some really important discoveries over the next couple of decades. Definitely far out. Check out http://archive.ncsa.uiuc.edu/Cyberia/NumRel/LIGO.html

Yes, they do look a lot alike. But some of you may not remember the guy on the right. OK, I’ll explain. He’s a former U.S. senator from Maine by the name of Edmund Muskie. He ran as Hubert Humphrey’s VP candidate in the 1968 election and lost to the Nixon ticket. Then in 1976 he ran for the Democratic nomination, but his campaign fell apart after he started crying when asked about his wife taking hits from the mud-slinging political journalists up in New Hampshire. He finished up his career as Secretary of State for Jimmy Carter, and was around to watch Carter go down in flames against the Gipper (R.I.P.) in 80. Yea, Edumund Muskie was a decent man who had a hard luck political career.

I can’t help but wonder if John Kerry was born under the same crossed star. The last hope: a VP candidate with a more lucky disposition. Namely, John Edwards.

My father served in the US Navy toward the end of World War 2. He lucked out by being assigned to the Naval Air Station in Pearl Harbor (about two years after the Japanese attack there on December 7, 1941). Obviously, had he been assigned to a ship somewhere in the western Pacific, he could have been taken down by a torpedo or some kamikaze, and I wouldn’t be here writing this blog today. My belated thanks to the underling lieutenant who reviewed my father’s papers and decided that he’d make a good airplane mechanic in the Pearl Harbor backshop. You never know who you owe your life to.

Even though my dad passed away many years ago, you can still find some Naval paraphernalia in the nooks and cubbyholes around my mother’s house. While doing my wash over there, I sometimes browse through my father’s Bluejackets’ Manual. This is “the bible” on how to be a sailor. Contained within its 784 pages is all kinds of info, including how to sail a ship by wind, how to row oars, how to swim, how to apply first aid, how to salute, how a lifting tackle works, how various types of knots and splices are tied, how to fire a handgun and a rifle, how to march in formation, what the colors of various kinds of mortar shells are, and on and on. There’s a Q&A; section that tells you about bilge keels, scuppers, the break of the forecastle, deadlights, taffrails, bucklers, fish booms, and hawse plugs. It also offers the wisdom that “keeping a warship in first-class condition means a constant battle against rust”. Hmm, wonder if that still applies in this era of aluminum and composites.

Towards the beginning of the Manual, there is a basic description of what the US Navy is all about, at least as of 1940. Since the Navy is mainly about ships, the book contains a list of the major warships of the time and some pictures (my favorite part). It’s slightly ironic to review the specifications for the USS Arizona and Oklahoma, which would be lost at Pearl Harbor just over a year after the Handbook was issued in June, 1940. Also, the pictured aircraft carrier (the USS Lexington) went down a few months thereafter at Coral Sea.

You might have thought that a new Handbook would have been issued by late 1943 when my father enlisted. (Actually there was a 1943 version, but it was probably still coming off the press). I suppose the Navy had a lot on its mind, such as battles at Midway and Leyte Gulf, not to mention Nazi U-Boats. Actually, it looks as though the 1940 Bluejacket’s Manual was pretty well prepared, and probably didn’t need to be redone once the torpedos and bombs started flying. Most likely it was one of those unheralded little things that some long forgotten group of people put a lot of energy into, which in the end allowed something big to happen – in this case, America’s military success against Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan.

The first couple of chapters of the Manual were written, appropriately enough, with the raw young recruit in mind. These chapters basically amount to a sales brochure for the sailor’s life, and at the same time they dispense some fatherly wisdom aimed at the scared and bewildered 18 year olds who were soon gonna be fodder for Axis ordnance. I found the language to be quite interesting – obviously, some of the vernacular is now outdated. But it assumes a certain credulity and respect for governmental authority that I’m not sure still exists. I really wonder if the average teenager of today could take seriously what was said in the Manual. Anyway, here are some excerpts with a few of my own comments.

PLEASE NOTE: I’m not trying to depreciate the bravery of our veterans or the sincere efforts that military people still make for the nation. Admittedly, I was never in the military, so I can’t completely understand the context involved. I’m mainly examining the manly tone of language used, and wondering how much the world has changed since it was more-or-less appropriately spoken some sixty odd years ago.

Fighting spirit – you know what this is. Without it, you are only a human biped who wears pants. With it, you are a live, red-blooded go-getter . . .

(I’ll let someone else comment on the correlation, or lack thereof, between wearing pants and red-blooded fighting spirit)

Be peppy. Put some drive into things. Carry a self-starter. Don’t have to be cranked everytime to get started.

(Cars stopped using starting cranks by 1930, but interestingly, the expression lingered).

Be square. Give a square deal to others and expect one in return.

(Of course, by the 1950s, being “square” was a little bit too pro-establishment; the age of the beatniks was yet to come in 1940).

Act so that your home folks will be proud of you . . .

(Ah, the days when the home folk were counting on young soldiers and sailors; then came Vietnam, unfortunately . . . )

No man ever succeeded by hanging on to his mother’s apron strings all his life.

(Back when mothers wore aprons)

A letter from home will buck you up more than anything else.

(I guess that people today don’t speak about getting “bucked up” because it sounds too much like something else . . . )

. . . you will find that you will have more liberties than you really want.

(sorry, but I have to question how many sailors would ultimately agree with that)

Admit your mistakes frankly and take your medicine.

(And take it like a man!)

The government educates and trains you, and then gives you a fine position for life, for which, in turn, you agree to do whatever the government demands.

(this sounds a little bit Orwellian …)

Always boost. If you cannot boost, at least do not knock.

(OK, good basic advice.)

To live a clean, wholesome life, you must think clearly and wholesomely. When you find your mind wandering on unwholesome subjects, snap out of it and turn your mind to clean thoughts. Get interested in clean, manly subjects, such as good books, athletics, shows, etc.

(Most books, athletics and shows today aren’t 100% clean and wholesome …)

See the really worth-while sights in the towns you visit. Do not hang around the dirty places that are always handy and which are always waiting to prey on you.

(Maybe this is reverse advertising – imagine being some kid from a farm in Iowa on his first Navy voyage, about to dock in France or Italy – wow, dirty places, can’t wait!!!)

Your best friends are your company commander and the officers on your station. They are trying to make a real man of you.

(Well, I’ll bet that they honestly wanted raw recruits to have a chance to live once the bullets started to fly, so they did all they could to toughen them up; a form of tough love, I guess).

You will develop friends rapidly with your new shipmates. Be careful, however, that you do not pick the occasional shirk, piker, or fourflusher for your friend, as such a man will invariably get you into trouble in time.

(I can imagine the fourflusher – a tall guy with black, slicked back hair and a trimmed little mustache …)

An Army and Navy YMCA is usually near your station, and you should make use of it immediately. It gives you a fine club life which would cost you a small fortune to enjoy in civil life.

(But perhaps not quite the “fine club life” that we would envision today)

[The Chaplain] frequently has additional duties with reference to motion pictures and entertainments and often helps in promoting smokers, parties, and various forms of
athletics.

(Smokers set up by the Chaplain? Cigarettes, booze and dirty movies? Well, one out of three, perhaps …)

. . . the only object of the Navy is to win battles.

(I’ve read that military doctrines are more sophisticated today; recall, most battles in Vietnam were won, but the war was horribly lost)

Wooden ships manned by men of iron will defeat iron ships manned by wooden men.

(That’s an old saw, but it still makes a good point — a point that perhaps applied in Vietnam; not that our guys were inferior, but the other side just wanted it too much).

Many men leave the service by desertion or by bad-conduct discharge and then, after they get outside, they realize that the Navy is a fine place.

(Perhaps this is a bit of advertising exaggeration; you can imagine this being spoken in a burly voice that puts emphasis on the word “fine”).

Do not try to learn by hard knocks and experience alone. That is slow and inefficient. The study of a good textbook for a few hours will probably teach you more electricity than Franklin learned in his whole life.

(Kids today probably know plenty about electricity, but as to Franklin … who’s this Franklin dude?)

Winning or losing, the main thing is to show yourself good and clean sportsmen — modest winners if the breaks are with you and good losers if the breaks are against you.

(Good sports philosophy – it’s all in the breaks, so be a good sport – wonder if the Navy accepts that as a philosophy of military and political outcomes?)