Personal
Quick Updates
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Tue, 08/28/2007 - 21:09Today was Fiona’s first day of kindergarten. This was followed by another day of cleaning out the old house, so, I’ve been away from the computer all day. This was after being away all evening yesterday to attend the Region 10 Board of Education meeting. There are now over 1300 unread emails in my in box and lots of writing that I need to get done.
First and foremost, Avery is today’s hero of the day. If you haven’t checked out Beth and Rod’s A Hero A Day blog, you really should. They have lots of stories about ordinary people doing extraordinary things. For those of you who are visiting Orient Lodge as a result of Beth and Rod’s blog, you can find most of my coverage about the Avery Doninger case in the Connecticut section.
As to the Board of Ed meeting, I was hoping to put my comments up about it. Perhaps I will get to it tomorrow. Kevin Roberts of the Citizen Register reports Reg. 10 officials discuss free speech case costs. After attending the Board of Ed meeting, and then speaking with my father-in-law about investigations he did into a different Board of Ed, I think it is very important that local newspapers and bloggers do more to cover what is going on at Board of Education meetings, especially in those school districts where there is construction going on.
Andy Thibault, of Cool Justice stays on top of the information issues with FOI requests and complaints about Failure To Produce Billing & Insurance Records and Evaluations, Contracts, Paychecks, Expenses
So, that’s it for now. I need to return some phone calls, do some more writing, put up some posts, and then get to bed.
That Sickness Where You Feel Cold and Don’t Want to Talk
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sun, 08/26/2007 - 05:17At dinner last night, my five-year-old daughter wanted to know about that sickness where you feel cold and don’t want to talk, and I was very glad to explain it to her. I had been talking about my latest blog post on the Avery Doninger case and the “chilling effect” the actions of the school administration was having on Avery.
She is at an age where we can have interesting discussions about ideas like “freedom of speech”. We talked about how in some countries people could get punished for saying bad things about their leaders, but that that is not supposed to happen in our country. We spoke about how sometimes leaders don’t understand that and punish people for saying things that they are allowed to say and how it can make people afraid to say things that they have every right to say.
At the National Conference of State Legislatures’ (NCSL) annual meeting, David McCullough spoke about the importance of dinnertime discussion. Dr. Jack Shonkoff, Director of the Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University spoke about the importance of the early childhood years in a presentation on a A Science-Based Framework for Early Childhood Policy
The early childhood years lay the foundation for later economic productivity, responsible citizenship, and a lifetime of sound physical and mental health,”
This dinnertime discussion is part of the foundation that I hope Fiona will carry with her into her adult years as a responsible citizen.
Miranda, my fourteen-year-old daughter is off at school, so I haven’t had a good chance to speak with her about the lessons of the case, but there is a very important lesson for her as well. Miranda, like Avery, is bright, outspoken and has relished serving in student government. This summer, she attended the Johns Hopkins Center for Talented Youth (CTY) program and studied dissent. They read great works, like Martin Luther King's Letter from Birmingham Jail.
One of my concerns with courses of study like this, and I do not know if the CTY program fell into this problem, is that they present these great fighters for our civil rights as larger than life heroes that we cannot aspire to be. Perhaps Emerson said it best,
Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duties to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given; forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote these books.
The same applies to young women standing up for our civil rights. To use the words of a great old hymn, “for the saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too.” One of the things that is so important about Avery’s case is that she reminds all of us that the great fighters for our civil rights, were people just like you and I. I hope the story of her battle gets told to many high school kids and encourages them to stand up as well.
This takes me back to another aspect of the NCSL annual meeting. I spoke with many people there who bewailed the lack of involvement of their constituents in civic life. Is it because civics is not taught well enough in our public schools? Are people to scared to step out into civic engagement? Do people believe they are powerless? In many ways it seems as if Avery is being punished for exactly what political leaders across our country are fighting for. She got involved. She tried to get others involved and those in power didn’t like it.
In 2003, my wife and I were very involved in Gov. Dean’s Presidential bid. For us, and I believe for many, a key message was about all of us having the power change our country for the better. When he ended his bid, he encouraged his supporters to stay involved, to get more involved, to even consider running for office. My wife heeded Gov. Dean’s words and ran for State Representative. It was a great experience for both of us and I wish more people had these sorts of experiences. Like Avery, Kim is a regular person just like you or I.
So, just as I hope Fiona learned something about “that sickness where you feel cold and don’t want to talk”, I hope we all learn a little bit more about the importance of civic engagement from Avery Doninger and that we all stand a little taller and a little firmer in defense of our rights.
Relevance, Subtext, Comprehension, and Irony
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sat, 08/25/2007 - 10:14Due to our move on Thursday, I was tardy as I rushed to the Federal District Courthouse for day three of the Avery Doninger Civil Rights case. I stepped into the spectator’s gallery of the courtroom quietly hoping to avoid any disruption of the hearing. Fortunately, the proceedings of the day had not yet started and if I missed anything it was the part where the announce says, “Today’s proceedings are brought to you buy the words relevance, subtext, comprehension, and irony.” Yes, my years of watching Sesame Street still colors my how I seek for the educational opportunities in life around me.
Recovering our Full Capacity for Joy
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Tue, 08/14/2007 - 07:13As we prepare to move, we are confronting issues with Fiona. She will have a much smaller room in a much smaller house, and we need to get rid of some of her toys. This shouldn’t be a big issue. There are many toys that she is too big for and hasn’t touched for years, but they still have an emotional attachment and we need to be gentle about how we remove them.
One toy, we weren’t gentle enough about in our plans for getting rid of it, and she had a melt down. We talked it through with her can came up with plans that she was happy with, and she quickly recovered from her meltdown.
I am on a mailing list with a person whose mother just died. The list is made up of psychologists and the discussions can get pretty intense at times. One person spoke about a friend who lost her daughter to cancer eleven years ago. She described her friend as struggling with rage and aching grief for years. Her friend used this grief to work for positive social change. The writer reported that it was only this year that her friend “recovered her full capacity for joy”.
What a remarkable phrase. Fiona, at age five, has not experienced the level of grief that many of us have. The grief she experiences and feels deeply are about the loss of a toy, and she bounces back in a matter of minutes. She quickly recovers her full capacity for joy.
As we get older, we build up one emotional scar after another. Our ability to recover our full capacity for joy weakens, and some of us don’t manage experience joy in its fullest.
Kim and I had only been dating for six weeks when her mother died. Over the first few years of our marriage, we attended many funerals together. Kim’s mother’s mother died within the year from a broken heart. Kim’s mother’s father died a slow agonizing death from Alzheimer’s.
When Kim was little, she used to go over to her grandparents house almost daily. It is important to her that Fiona be able to get to her grandparents house frequently, and the house we are moving to is about two blocks from Kim’s grandparents and a short drive from Fiona’s grandparents.
This is a very different orientation than I grew up with. My father’s father died 64 years ago, yesterday; years before I was born. His mother died eight years later, so I never got a chance to meet either of my paternal grandparents. My mother was the youngest in her family, and her parents were quite old by the time I came along. We would see them a couple times a year. My early memories of my grandfather are restricted to him watching Red Sox games on a small old black and white TV and sneaking us kids sourballs when our parents weren’t looking. I never really experienced the joy that Fiona finds with her “papa”.
So, as we build up the collection of emotional scars that life gives us, I wonder, how do we go about recovering our full capacity for joy. I’m sure that my therapist friends would talk about the importance of therapy. I’m sure that priest friends would talk about God’s role.
Mary Gauthier’s song, “Mercy Now” captures some of this. She writes about her father dying of Alzheimer’s,
My father could use a little mercy now
The fruits of his labor
Fall and rot slowly on the ground
His work is almost over
It won't be long and he won't be around
I love my father, and he could use some mercy now
In these days after September 11th, in these days of war in Iraq, in these days of financial uncertainty, we could all use a little mercy now, we could all use a little help in recovering our full capacity for joy.
Every living thing could use a little mercy now
Only the hand of grace can end the race
Towards another mushroom cloud
People in power, well
They'll do anything to keep their crown
I love life, and life itself could use some mercy now
IM and Thou
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sat, 08/04/2007 - 22:54“You have my constant partial attention”, I posted in a comment as I glanced at my buddy list to see who was IMing me. In the lower right hand corner of the screen, little boxes appeared and disappeared as friends updated their statuses on Facebook. My phone chirped with text messages sent from friends on Twitter.
Neil Diamond’s ”IM, I said, to no one there, and no one heard at all” rang through my head. Yes, it does sometimes seem like this constant partial attention is nothing but IMing to nobody. Maybe this disquieting existence somewhere between being in constant contact with more people than ever was possible before and yet not really connecting with other people is all the more poignant to me right now as I sit in a place of unknowing about where I will live, what work I will do, and how I will manage to feed my family.
Perhaps this longing for real connections is why I am seeing so many people talking about how happy they are to be at YearlyKos in their Facebook statuses and their messages on Twitter. There are people at YearlyKos that have become close friends whom I have never met and whom I would have loved to meet face to face in Chicago.
Yes, this place of unknowing is uncomfortable, both in terms of what is going on personally, as well as what is going on with our online relationships. However, this place of unknowing is also where we can learn important things about ourselves and our relationships to people around us.
Too often, I’ve only glanced at the low priority emails, the IMs, the statuses updates, the Twitter messages and the blog posts that don’t catch my attention and let them pass me by without taking time to think about the underlying message that unifies all of them. Too often I haven’t listened to the collected digital unconscious or tried to view the digital palimpsest that all these messages build up.
As I got ready to leave for Boston this afternoon, I tried to whittle down the hundreds of unread emails to a more manageable size. Some messages I just deleted after glancing at the subject lines. Others I moved to folders that I’ll check again if the need ever arises, but they will most likely remain unread. Some received a little red flag to remind me to check the message again when I have more time.
Now, I’m on the train. I sent a message on my cell to Twitter and Facebook, which will get replicated via RSS to my blog and to Jaiku letting anyone who is paying constant partial attention to me that I am on my way to Boston.
The accumulated messages fade into the distance, like the evening lit swamps by the side of the railroad tracks. The swamps are lonely, empty, forsaken places that also contain great beauty if you look closely enough. As the train passes, I see beautiful birds take flight.
The success of a child using the potty for the first time is an important milestone and the mommy who is spending all her time talking with young children needs some friendly adult ears that can share the joy. They make for important blog posts. The remembrance of a special day with a loved one who lost the battle with cancer a few years ago is sacred and needs to be revered by all that pass by online.
In college, I read Martin Buber’s “I and Thou” and often think about how we treat the people around us as things. We relate to them as ‘its’ instead of ‘thous’. In these days of IMs and constant partial attention, it seems even easier to relate to those around us as ‘its’, as objects no different than bots that have passed their Turing test.
Can we learn to listen to the collective digital unconscious? Can we learn to connect with the sacred in those around us online? I believe we can, if we work on it. In doing so, our own writing will gain new meaning, our political advocacy will gain new depth. Please join me in seeking the “IM and Thou”.