Meditations #7

 Adapt yourself to the environment in which your lot has been cast, and show true love to the fellow-mortals with which destiny has surrounded you.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Six

For some reason this seemed like the natural follow-up to the last two posts, while also recognizing my failure, all too often, to make it a reality. All the tests show that I fall on the Internal Locus of Control side of things, and thus I'm very much a "you control your own destiny" type of person. As SW will often opine in regards to something I say or do, and quoting Lawrence of Arabia, "nothing is written." However, there are times when you simply don't control where you go or who you are worth, but you can control your response to that moment, to that environment.

Abner

 I promised that I'd share more about my recent trip back to the Midwest to see my people, but that will have to wait for a bit; my summer class starts to night and I need to finalize a few things with the syllabus and my Canvas shell. On my last full day in Indiana we visited four cemeteries to visit graves and plant flowers, but that's definitely a longer post. In the meantime I'll just share this picture of the tombstone of Abner Scudder, the reason why the Scudders ended up in Indiana in the first place. He was wounded in the Revolutionary War, and, as recompense, received two-hundred acres in the wilderness of what would eventually be Indiana. 

And so, after stops in England and Salem and Long Island and New Jersey and North Carolina, we eventually made our way to Indiana. Some members of the crew, could be anyone, took the opportunity to get the hell out and not look back.

Meditations #6

 An empty pageant; a stage play; flocks of sheep, herds of cattle; a tussle of spearmen; a bone flung among a pack of curs; a crumb tossed into a pond of fish; ants, loaded and labouring; mice, scared and scampering; puppets, jerking on their strings - that is life. In the midst of it all you must take your stand, good-temperedly and without disdain, yet always aware that a man's worth is no greater than the worth of his ambitions.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Seven

This passage has really stuck with me lately, as I've been struggling mightily on multiple levels. On the one hand it's another one of those great MA descriptions of the general chaos and folly and pointlessness of life (at least an unexamined life), but, typically, it digs deeper. I was talking to a friend recently and I admitted to her that for the first time in my life I was scared, not worried or fretful or stressed, but actually scared. On so many levels my life is crumbling around me: physically (constant pain) and professionally (increasingly my students don't like me and my colleagues are dismissive of me) and emotionally (I'm alone, and I've given up on that front; enough pain is too much pain) and intellectually (the medicine I'm on for my polyneuropathy has left me tired, sluggish, and muddle-headed; I was getting so much writing done before I started it and now that's a distant memory - sure, I can walk better, but I can't seem to put two sentences together). So, what can one do? As MA reminds us, the power of release from life is always in our hands, but we discussed that in another Meditations post. Well, as MA tells us above, you take your stand. Now, if a "man's worth is no greater than the worth of his ambitions," what are my ambitions now? Truthfully, I don't know. My professional ambitions, either through writing or taking students overseas (or even teaching classes that I like), seem to be fading away. This may sound cheesy, but I would like to be with someone, but I can't even begin to imagine that possibility anymore. Maybe one just tries to be of service. Last week I found myself volunteering on three different fronts: the Food Shelf and Techdren and the Islamic Society of Vermont (we'll be opening a free clinic at the ISVT and I'm definitely interested in volunteering there as well). Service to the greater good would be an answer that both MA and Islam would approve. Let's just start there.

Instagram, I Guess

 Several years ago one of my students came up after class and said, "Hey, I found your Instagram account." My response reflected the love and patience that has marked my award-winning teaching career: "You idiot, I don't have an Instagram account. Moron." As it turns I did have an Instagram account, which led me to paying a milk shake to said student by way of recompense. That Instagram account accounted for exactly one picture, which was of my suitcases sitting in my apartment in Abu Dhabi as I packed up to return to the States after my year in the UAE. Why did I have an Instagram account? Well, since I didn't remember setting one up in the first place the logic/illogic of setting one up in the first place has been long lost in the mists of time. In fact, I don't even remember the handle, so it would take some investigative work to track down that elusive picture of my suitcases. What is the point of all this? Oddly, I now have another Instagram account, whose handle I do know: scudder_gary. Now, why do I have it? The other day I was creating childish memes to survive a dreadful meeting at school and my stupid Meme Generator directed me to set up an Instagram account to continue my idiotic snarkiness (I don't know whether it was capitalism or a fail-safe for my mental health). As you know, I like challenges, so I've decided to post one travel picture a day on Instagram for one year. Plus, it helps me get my pictures organized. I've been running them off and framing them, and now I have a structured mechanism to force me to make sense of them.

Crete, Indiana

 More snippets from my recent trip back to the Midwest to see my people: a drive through Crete, Indiana. Why? I stumbled across the fact that Jim Jones, of Jonestown massacre infamy, was actually born in Crete, Indiana, a small town close to the border with Ohio. So, I took a long diversion as I drove from my brother's house in Indianapolis to my father's in Lawrenceburg. The picture is a little misleading because there are actual several houses in the sleepy town center of Crete. It's fairly close to the highest point in Indiana, which is 1257 feet above sea level. All of this makes sense, somehow, I just haven't figured out why yet.

It's hard to connect the dots between Crete, Indiana and Jonestown - or maybe it's not.

Camp Washington Chili

 I was out of town for a week and half (more on that later), which gave me a chance to get caught up with so many people who I hadn't seen in two years (making me a citizen of the planet, I guess). It would be messy, even by my messy blog standards, to try and tie the trip together in one post, so I'll divide this up into more manageable moments. One of my favorite moments was a trip to Camp Washington Chili, the establishment which routinely ranks near the top, if not at the top, of any list of Cincinnati chili parlors. And, believe me, if you're from the Natti these are important issues. Dave and I remembered eating there - and then we arrived we decided we maybe hadn't actually eaten there - or maybe we're both just really old. It's close to the University of Cincinnati, of which we're both graduates (his JD and my PhD), so it seems entirely plausible that we would have eaten there. Anyway, it was a great meal, and the debate over its merit vis a vis Skyline and Dixie and Empress, etc. continues. I was talking to my PT guy the other day about Cincinnati chili and my desire to devote an entire weekend to visiting different chili parlors to research this question. He said, "But how many chili parlor could you possibly visit in a weekend?" I was more than a little horrified by his horrified surprise at my answer of ten or twelve, and I clearly need to get a new PT guy.

Happily, Camp Washington Chili has survived as an independent chili parlor since before the US entered World War II.

A classic chili parlor.

The esteemed Dave Kelley and I discussed the pros and cons of the different varieties of Cincinnati chili - and the deeper meaning of reality - which is really the same question.

The Muslim Version of Waiting for Godot

 Almost every day, as my friends will wearily acknowledge, I post an update on Vermont's progress in getting the COVID vaccine on Facebook (drawn from the NPR website). I have to admit that I'm rather fixated on the site, which is updated every day around mid-morning. After a perusal I summarize the findings with some commentary and share the link (again). For example, from yesterday:

Today Vermont stands at 57.8% fully vaccinated, 71.2% with one shot, and 91.8% 65+ fully vaccinated - all three figures are first in the nation by a healthy (some pun intended) margin. That's a lot to celebrate, VT, but let's not get complacent. Talk to your neighbors and friends and wary family members and let's keep pushing. Go get your shots!!

Yes, Vermont, our odd little corner of America, is doing the best job of confronting the pandemic, even receiving praise from Dr. Fauci on several occasions. Theoretically we might even reach 85% fully vaccinated by sometime in July (and, as we know, 85% is a huge figure in reaching herd immunity). Sadly, far too much of the country, mainly focused in Trumpsylvania, are not getting their shots which they've somehow turned into a litmus test of their devotion to the cult. While Vermont might reach 85% in six weeks, states like Mississippi or Alabama or Oklahoma might not reach that figure for a year and a half or even two years (meaning, never). So, why do I plague folks with this daily update? Well, I guess it's opportunity, even in a limited fashion, to promote the effort. Unfortunately, even here, the numbers are reaching a plateau, which is troubling. Of course, even if we start to plateau now we're still so much better off than the rest of the country. This last Saturday we hosted a free vaccination clinic at the Islamic Society of Vermont (because that's apparently what I do, although I don't think of myself that way - but my weekend was dominated by Techdren, the Food Shelf, and the mosque). We were open from 9:00 a.m. to noon on Saturday and only two people showed up. Now, it could have been an internal issue (vaccination wariness from our largely immigrant population) or an external issue (some soft Islamophobia as non-Muslims refused to go to a mosque; hopefully that's not it because we're also in the process of opening a free clinic at the ISVT, so I can volunteer more), although the nice woman who ran the clinic says it's just a reflection of the numbers across the state: the big events aren't drawing folks any more and the transition is being made more to local pharmacies and doctor's offices. Still, it's two more people who are vaccinated.

Now, go get your shots!!!!

We still have the Ramadan lanterns up.

The gymnasium turned into a vaccination center. By the end some members of the crew were shooting hoops to pass away the time.