I haven’t learned a lot, but I think I’ve learned this: the things that preoccupy us, worry us, stress us, aren’t the things on which we should be wasting energy.
I recently found out that the famous Finnish architect Eliel Saarinen designed the sanctuary for Christ Church Lutheran, right here in my backyard of Minneapolis. Turns out Saarinen’s son, the world-famous Eero Saarinen (of St. Louis Gateway Arch fame, designed a lovely addition to the original building. Here’s a picture, by the local Pete Sieger:
Now, I’m speaking as a huge fan of the Gothic architecture of Cathedrals in Europe, but I still like this style. Somehow (and I don’t have the architectural terms to express how), the Saarinen’s take these materials, large spaces, unadorned planes of space, and make them warm, even transcendent.
I’m looking forward to touring this space this January.
“My whole life, I had been doing everything everybody
told me. I went to the right school. I got really good
grades. I got all the internships. Then, I couldn’t do
anything.”
Mykala and I’ve been thinking a lot about raising healthy children. After those discussions, I can certainly say I believe in the long term value of teaching children about hard work, but I can’t yet figure out how best to motivate children to do it based on an internal locus. The quote above speaks to someone subjected to external motives — they’re effective, but also artificial and unreliable.
Here’s a problem I have: I fear disagreement. Just in the past month, I finally realized how desperately I try to center all my conversations around agreement. Think back to any conversation I’ve had with you — I was subconsciously aiming at agreement. Then, there are times when I consciously aim at agreement: I’ll make a semi-strong statement, and the person with whom I’m speaking will disagree. Inevitably, I’ll do a series of linguistic backflips and contortions to align our just-stated viewpoints.
I understand you’ve got to disagree, it’s the only way to resolve conflicts. I’m just not good at it.
Had a little pre-Thanksgiving breakfast bite here on the couch, watching the Macy’s Day Parade on TV. Our picture window is just right of the TV, and I can see far more joggers than usual passing by, presumably burning some calories in preparation for their feasts later today. It’s fun to live in the city, feeling the heartbeat of a vibrant metropolis all around, your neighbors going about their lives. A few days back, I was biking back home in the dark along the East River Road. On the hill up to a bridge over I-94, I could see the river, Minneapolis, and the rush hour cars slowly winding along the freeway, all stretched out in front of me. I felt like I was really part of it all, and the thrill of it was very surprising. I got what I really like about it all. I bet that’s what people in New York City feel — when they take a step back from the crowded streets and subways, from the constant noise of traffic, it’s a thrill to be right in the midst of all the hustle and bustle.
Mykala and I were thinking about doing a Zumba “Turkey Burn” (90 minutes of me trying to figure out the choreography while Mykala rocks out next to me) aerobic-type class this morning, but her achilles tendon is acting up. There’s no sense in having a ruptured achilles Thanksgiving — they’ll be plenty of time for Zumba in the weeks ahead.
Our first snow of the season began before noon today. Though the accumulation isn’t expected to stick around, such facts are of little help when you’ve somewhere to be. So, just like I did last season, I pumped up my Nokian Hakkapeliitta W240 tungsten carbide-studded snow tires and began my commute to the gym.
Snow has gotten colder since last year. Either that, or it was just unusually windy today. Anyhow, the tires were (as usual) just great and I found more things rusting to the point of falling apart on my winter bike. Just one more season of this, and then I’ll have a car. In terms of commuting, next winter will likely be quite different.
Last season, our landlord boarded a very nice man from Egypt named Ahmad. He came here for a year to teach Arabic at Pratt Elementary in our neighborhood. At the end of his tenure here, shortly before he left to return to Egypt, he sent us an email saying if we’re ever in Cairo, to let him know, and he could show us around. Both Mykala and I were pleasantly surprised by such hospitality — I wonder if the cold weather of the north drives us all inside and reduces our tendency to open our homes to those we don’t know well. Such thoughts inspired me to get a picture of the next big snow and email it to Ahmad. He wasn’t a huge fan of the freezing weather and constant snow (and he was here for a particularly brutal winter). In fact, his kids back in Egypt didn’t believe him about snow until he sent them a video. Perhaps he’ll be thankful to see the cold weather from afar while he enjoys the mild Cairo winter.
This morning, we went right down the line and took out three tricky teeth on a very nice fellow who didn’t speak English. Mykala picked me up for lunch (we’ve been lunching together a lot lately) and I shared a miniature revelation.
“I think I know why most surgeons have big egos.”
“Why’s that?”
“There’s some sort of thrill when you stitch tissue back together. Something in the limbic system or whatever yells up from the depths ‘You put it back together!’ And things build from there. I can only imagine what happens when you’re a surgeon who actually saves lives: ‘I am the reason that person is walking around, can hug their grandchild, lives to exist another day.’”
Back at school for the afternoon, there was no time for such philosophizing. At the end of the afternoon, 15 minutes before we were scheduled to be done, I ended up extracting a tricky upper molar on a lady in a lot of pain. Or, well, attempting to extract. I had good mobility on the tooth, was making good progress, but I was out of time. The attending stepped in.
Crrrrrack.
Crown’s gone. I didn’t even see the releasing incision that came after that.
Fffffzzzzz zzzzzzzz!
The Hall drill sounds exactly like a pneumatic drill that your car mechanic uses because… it’s a pneumatic drill like your car mechanic’s. Anyhow, there goes buccal bone.
Pop.
Out come the roots.
“That was fast!” said the patient. “Well, that’s what you get when the experts step in,” I said. I went home appropriately humbled.
There’s a sharp division between school and home. The minute I got home, all of this swirling in my head, it just went away. It was like getting a big hug warm after being out in the cold. Mykala had made delicious fresh Mexican (seriously, fresh guacamole, fresh tortillas). Now, I’m sitting here on our couch, finally cleaning out my inbox, talking with Mykala about her future as a double Master’s holder in Human Development and Licensed Professional Counselor slash Well Coach slash general boon to humanity. We’re watching The Holiday. It’s going to snow tomorrow.
Seriously, how awesome are Jude Law’s glasses in that movie?
I object to this bill in its current form because I
believe it fails to use existing tools
and does a worse job than those existing tools at
solving this problem.
Such reasoning makes for an excellent argument against many pieces of legislation claiming to fix “broken” systems.
