or Rittenhouse Square...that was probably it, because you can't really drive to Byzantium from where I live. Or maybe you could have at one time, but Byzantium doesn't technically exist any longer, except in stories and songs, which makes it a bit more of a mythological or epic phenomenon, even though you could probably get to where it used to be, albeit not by car....
William Butler Yeats described Byzantium as a place where aged intellectuals could escape sensual excesses and have actual conversations, which sounds pretty groovy in the particular sense of "grooviness" which is devoid of the sunburnt mirth, dance, and provencal song Keats described when under the influence of the nightingale... So, like an "animal house" that's more like the New York Public Library quiet reading room.
So where were we? Ah yes, driving to Rittenhouse Square...
The way to Rittenhouse Square is full of obstacles and challenges, like the Schuylkill Expressway. Some days it's a picturesque vision of loveliness...others, it's a parking lot. I don't have enough experience to know when, exactly, the highway will be in which condition. Consequently, I often find myself making a long, running commentary on the driving. It's especially worthy of comment, I find, when cars slow down dramatically so that their drivers can examine the world around them--"why look, a pile of fresh dirt!"
But I digress.
The real reason for the trip toward Rittenhouse Square was a trip to the Franklin Institue in order to bolster my rapdily declining mental faculties. The trip was relatively successful.
I hope.
30 August 2007
25 August 2007
Why acorns should be scary to deer
I went to a gun store for the first time in twenty years. It was a bit scary, mostly because of the guns. One was pink plastic...like a Barbie-esque gun for girls (although I believe that the Mattell Corporation strongly discourages violence and would not endorse any gun with the Barbie logo).
In an effort to avoid standing next to any missile-launching devices (of which there were several), I wandered into the deer attracting aisle, in which various deer-related calls and whistles can be found. They also have those small cans that you turn over...like the cute ones that moo for children, except these are to lure unsuspecting deer to their deaths. I was reminded that, in the novel Bambi, the title character was saved from certain death by the kind intervention of the oldest deer in the forest as he (Bambi) was dashing pell-mell toward the sound of one of those lovely deer devices.
In life as opposed to fiction, however, deer aren't always fooled by sounds, and can , in fact, smell the difference between a hunter holding a gun and say, dirt, or acorns. Hence, you can also buy various scents (acorn, apple, and dirt) to mask you smell and blend into the surroundings. I found the whole idea of pretending to be an innocent acorn and then shooting a deer to be a bit weird.
And then, when I thought it all over, I realized that as a person who really likes action movies, I should be more OK with the gun store. I mean, I love that scene in The Matrix in which Neo and Trinity get "guns...lots of guns." Of course, I also saw the "making of" movie, so I know those guns were fake, and that the walls were made of foam and that, basically, no real violence was perpetrated in the film.
So maybe I'm a bit of a hypocrite.
In an effort to avoid standing next to any missile-launching devices (of which there were several), I wandered into the deer attracting aisle, in which various deer-related calls and whistles can be found. They also have those small cans that you turn over...like the cute ones that moo for children, except these are to lure unsuspecting deer to their deaths. I was reminded that, in the novel Bambi, the title character was saved from certain death by the kind intervention of the oldest deer in the forest as he (Bambi) was dashing pell-mell toward the sound of one of those lovely deer devices.
In life as opposed to fiction, however, deer aren't always fooled by sounds, and can , in fact, smell the difference between a hunter holding a gun and say, dirt, or acorns. Hence, you can also buy various scents (acorn, apple, and dirt) to mask you smell and blend into the surroundings. I found the whole idea of pretending to be an innocent acorn and then shooting a deer to be a bit weird.
And then, when I thought it all over, I realized that as a person who really likes action movies, I should be more OK with the gun store. I mean, I love that scene in The Matrix in which Neo and Trinity get "guns...lots of guns." Of course, I also saw the "making of" movie, so I know those guns were fake, and that the walls were made of foam and that, basically, no real violence was perpetrated in the film.
So maybe I'm a bit of a hypocrite.
23 August 2007
Recycling Egyptian Style
Poor King Tut! He died unexpectedly, and was buried with a number of recycled objects, hastily made over for him. There is even some speculation that his father's mummy was pushed aside and replaced with the boy king's. It all seemed so tawdry, until I remembered that many Western societies actually consolidate graves, and bones, and other remains on a fairly regular and ongoing basis.
So, maybe the whole recycling thing isn't so bad...just think about it, those jewel-encrusted, solid gold organ chests wouldn't be cheap today, but they would have been worth a lot more all those years ago. And lest we forget, the ancient Egyptians had a propensity for striking off the names of people they stopped liking and replacing them with other names of people they still liked. And King Tut would have been a prime candidate for such name replacement because the Pharaoh who might have been his father was, in fact, pretty pesky to the ancient Egyptian psyche. For one thing, he got rid of all the old gods, and replaced them with a single god. He also moved the capital city.
People don't like to have their religion taken away and their cities moved. They find that it, generally, sucks. And in ancient Egypt, when they decided that you sucked, your name got taken off of expensive stuff (like temples) and replaced with another name.
So next time you decide to gut a whole religious culture and move all the cities, think again.
So, maybe the whole recycling thing isn't so bad...just think about it, those jewel-encrusted, solid gold organ chests wouldn't be cheap today, but they would have been worth a lot more all those years ago. And lest we forget, the ancient Egyptians had a propensity for striking off the names of people they stopped liking and replacing them with other names of people they still liked. And King Tut would have been a prime candidate for such name replacement because the Pharaoh who might have been his father was, in fact, pretty pesky to the ancient Egyptian psyche. For one thing, he got rid of all the old gods, and replaced them with a single god. He also moved the capital city.
People don't like to have their religion taken away and their cities moved. They find that it, generally, sucks. And in ancient Egypt, when they decided that you sucked, your name got taken off of expensive stuff (like temples) and replaced with another name.
So next time you decide to gut a whole religious culture and move all the cities, think again.
21 August 2007
Writer's block
It happens to everyone, I suppose...but what to do about it? In Throw Momma from the Train, Larry (played by Billy Crystal) has terrible writer's block because his wife Margaret "stole" his story, his life, and (apparently) his manhood. Which is pretty mean, when you think about it one way, but maybe a bit exaggerated when we see the end of the movie. Larry writes a novel about his adventures with Owen, only to find that Owen (played by Danny DeVito) wrote a book about his adventures with Larry. Enraged, Larry throttles Owen for "stealing" the story, only to find that Owen wrote a pop-up book.
Not good. One wonders if perhaps Margaret simply wrote about Larry... and why not? They were married, after all...
Anyway, Larry's writer's block is pretty funny and involves lots of activity with scotch tape, hard liquor, coffee, and watching Oprah. I do so like Oprah..she's lovely when you have writer's block, or any time, really.
So, I really don't have anything to write, which is like writer's block in a way, except that I'm writing, which gets a bit babbly. And stuff.
Not good. One wonders if perhaps Margaret simply wrote about Larry... and why not? They were married, after all...
Anyway, Larry's writer's block is pretty funny and involves lots of activity with scotch tape, hard liquor, coffee, and watching Oprah. I do so like Oprah..she's lovely when you have writer's block, or any time, really.
So, I really don't have anything to write, which is like writer's block in a way, except that I'm writing, which gets a bit babbly. And stuff.
19 August 2007
Metafighting -OR- How on Earth Did We Wind Up at the Passive Aggressive Olympics?
Metamessaging is one way of being really critical of someone without having to take responsibility for being mean. Done properly, it can turn into metafighting, which is like fighting, but without actually admitting that you're angry.
It can be done in reverse, too, like when someone reads unintended metamessages into other communications. This happens sometimes because someone is used to metacritics and therefore thinks every communication is a criticism. Which can be painful and tricky when you're just getting to know someone. The thing that totally sucks about this is that metafighters often don't even understand what they're doing or why.
At its worst, metacommunicating can be really damaging and awful like when it breaks down the possible paths of communication, leaving one person feeling picked to shreds and the other one still dissatisfied because they've now unintentionally angered a loved one. And let's face it, criticizing a loved one is sometime necessary for everyone's health, mental and otherwise.
This whole mess is kind of like the luge run at the winter olympics of passive agression...pretty easy to start, impossible to slow down, and heaven help you if you hang into the track at the wrong moment.
One of my friends from when I was in high school got kicked in the head when he looked into the track during a practice luge run at the Lake Placid Olympics in the 1980's. I met him afterward, so I'm not sure what the long-term effects were, but he said it hurt a lot at the time. I think about him getting whacked in the head by a luge runner every time I wander into passive aggressive olympic behaviors at work or home.
I ask myself, "Why can't we just fight like normal people?" Of course, I then realize that this is what normal people do. Particularly bourgeois normal people.
Maybe I should just give up and go shopping.
It can be done in reverse, too, like when someone reads unintended metamessages into other communications. This happens sometimes because someone is used to metacritics and therefore thinks every communication is a criticism. Which can be painful and tricky when you're just getting to know someone. The thing that totally sucks about this is that metafighters often don't even understand what they're doing or why.
At its worst, metacommunicating can be really damaging and awful like when it breaks down the possible paths of communication, leaving one person feeling picked to shreds and the other one still dissatisfied because they've now unintentionally angered a loved one. And let's face it, criticizing a loved one is sometime necessary for everyone's health, mental and otherwise.
This whole mess is kind of like the luge run at the winter olympics of passive agression...pretty easy to start, impossible to slow down, and heaven help you if you hang into the track at the wrong moment.
One of my friends from when I was in high school got kicked in the head when he looked into the track during a practice luge run at the Lake Placid Olympics in the 1980's. I met him afterward, so I'm not sure what the long-term effects were, but he said it hurt a lot at the time. I think about him getting whacked in the head by a luge runner every time I wander into passive aggressive olympic behaviors at work or home.
I ask myself, "Why can't we just fight like normal people?" Of course, I then realize that this is what normal people do. Particularly bourgeois normal people.
Maybe I should just give up and go shopping.
16 August 2007
What would Barbie do?
A wise man once said, "Barbie..." OK, that's ridiculous, actually, because wise men tend not to speak to Barbie, who is, after all a doll.
Is it possible that there is any wisdom in the Barbie universe, where everything possible is bubble-gum pink and girls do all the fun jobs (except pilot). It looks pretty fun, in a perky, squealing sort of way that I don't personally find appealing for more than a couple of hours. But it's still fun, and Barbie and pals don't seem to spend a lot of time pondering their problems. Things just don't seem that complicated. Maybe that's a wise way to live.
The biggest drawback to the Barbie universe is that Ken can seem rather dull against the party pink. But maybe that's easier, too, and wiser. Why date exciting and undependable men, when Ken is always hanging around ready to be helpful and fly things?
Is it possible that there is any wisdom in the Barbie universe, where everything possible is bubble-gum pink and girls do all the fun jobs (except pilot). It looks pretty fun, in a perky, squealing sort of way that I don't personally find appealing for more than a couple of hours. But it's still fun, and Barbie and pals don't seem to spend a lot of time pondering their problems. Things just don't seem that complicated. Maybe that's a wise way to live.
The biggest drawback to the Barbie universe is that Ken can seem rather dull against the party pink. But maybe that's easier, too, and wiser. Why date exciting and undependable men, when Ken is always hanging around ready to be helpful and fly things?
13 August 2007
Customer Service
I live in a region where customer service is quite different compared with where I grew up. In much of my experience, the customer service professional may yell at you a little, but he or she will, in fact, eventually do what you want, especially if you use a lot of big words while you're yelling back and your credit card was issued to "Dr.". Where I live now, no one yells, but there is a decided lack of interest in doing what you, as a customer, might want.
My favorite weird customer service incident took place shortly after I left the greater NY metropolitan area. I was at a deli counter, and I wanted a sandwich. The deli had the combination of meats and cheeses that I wanted, and I was pleased, although slightly apprehensive about the bread. When I placed my order the man behind the counter, quite pleasantly, said, "No. We don't make that."
Nonplussed, I pointed out that he had the cold cuts, and he said, "you have to order off the menu." I tried again. He refused. I thanked him and turned to leave.
Then he yelled at me for leaving, insisting that I had to have a sandwich from the menu.
I ignored him and left. He yelled after me for quite a while, which caused a few of his other potential customers to edge away from the counter and go to the hot dog stand.
That was a bit weird, but I had a very nice and much cheaper lunch at another deli counter in the same building. So, I was fine.
Interestingly, the thing that bothered me the most was the idea that this man actually thought that I was required to eat what he wanted me to eat. How odd.
Then I thought about the art of negotiation. In order to negotiate effectively, you need to have enough power and/or influence to convince your adversary/negotiation partner that you should get what you're requesting. Generally, in a common culture, this comes down to proving that you mean business and are willing to walk away from the negotiation. In my early life, this was accomplished by yelling and using big words--let's face it, delis in NYC are used to competing for customers, so they'll make you a weird sandwich, even if they complain about it a little. In my new location, it seems, customer service people are used to calling the shots because they can, and they don't know how to deal with customers who want what they want, and are willing to walk away and get something else.
....I've decided to eat more sushi.
My favorite weird customer service incident took place shortly after I left the greater NY metropolitan area. I was at a deli counter, and I wanted a sandwich. The deli had the combination of meats and cheeses that I wanted, and I was pleased, although slightly apprehensive about the bread. When I placed my order the man behind the counter, quite pleasantly, said, "No. We don't make that."
Nonplussed, I pointed out that he had the cold cuts, and he said, "you have to order off the menu." I tried again. He refused. I thanked him and turned to leave.
Then he yelled at me for leaving, insisting that I had to have a sandwich from the menu.
I ignored him and left. He yelled after me for quite a while, which caused a few of his other potential customers to edge away from the counter and go to the hot dog stand.
That was a bit weird, but I had a very nice and much cheaper lunch at another deli counter in the same building. So, I was fine.
Interestingly, the thing that bothered me the most was the idea that this man actually thought that I was required to eat what he wanted me to eat. How odd.
Then I thought about the art of negotiation. In order to negotiate effectively, you need to have enough power and/or influence to convince your adversary/negotiation partner that you should get what you're requesting. Generally, in a common culture, this comes down to proving that you mean business and are willing to walk away from the negotiation. In my early life, this was accomplished by yelling and using big words--let's face it, delis in NYC are used to competing for customers, so they'll make you a weird sandwich, even if they complain about it a little. In my new location, it seems, customer service people are used to calling the shots because they can, and they don't know how to deal with customers who want what they want, and are willing to walk away and get something else.
....I've decided to eat more sushi.
10 August 2007
Throwing down the gauntlet?
Sometimes people interpret requests and observations by others as aggressive actions, even when the putative agressor is merely asking a question or making an observation, such as "that doesn't seem like the world's best idea."
I'm not sure how this works, exactly, although I do recognize that in cases where people have been married for 40 years and one person has hypertension and just returned from having a triple bypass, "Pass the salt" becomes a declaration of war or possibly suicide. Deborah Tannen, the best-selling author and linguist, has published a number of books in which she discusses similar phenomena, which she terms "metamessaging," which is closely related to the "connection-control continuum." I see the ensuing fight as between the sides of "I strongly prefer that you don't die," and "You're not the boss of me."
I'm not sure how this works, exactly, although I do recognize that in cases where people have been married for 40 years and one person has hypertension and just returned from having a triple bypass, "Pass the salt" becomes a declaration of war or possibly suicide. Deborah Tannen, the best-selling author and linguist, has published a number of books in which she discusses similar phenomena, which she terms "metamessaging," which is closely related to the "connection-control continuum." I see the ensuing fight as between the sides of "I strongly prefer that you don't die," and "You're not the boss of me."
07 August 2007
Riparian ecology at the Red Rock park in Sedona
In “Keeping Up Appearances” the riparian picnic is a regular feature of the comic antics that make the show funny, as long as you haven’t seen too many episodes that use the same joke. For some reason, I also associate the word “riparian” with British poetry, possibly featuring shepherds leading their flocks near picturesque creeks.
Imagine my surprise to discover that “riparian” has a scientific as well as a belletristic significance. Apparently, riparian describes the ecological system immediately next to (but not in) water. Interesting. Perhaps the shepherds were onto something. Certainly the availability of a body of water near a picnic populated with floral-clad British matrons presents comedic possibilities somewhat richer than those available in other pastoral settings.
Another feature of the riparian (or possibly the borders between the riparian and the somewhat drier ecology that forms a buffer between desert and riparian—I would need to look that up) appears to be rattlesnakes. “Please protect the rattlesnakes,” read the signs. Until reading these signs, I was unaware that rattlesnakes needed protection. They are, after all, venomous serpents, a class/family/order of animals with long-standing bad press. Cleopatra was apparently killed by one, and these animals are now even less popular given Voldemort’s affinity with all manner of legless reptiles. However, it seems that, in the United States, certain rattlesnakes are endangered due to human encroachment on their habitats. In the parks, rattlesnakes are therefore protected, which means that we humans shouldn’t trouble them at all, and if we get bitten, should just whip out the snake bite kit and deal. Luckily, rattlesnakes are pretty smart and like to stay away from much larger animals that could possibly step on their heads and kill them.
Imagine my surprise to discover that “riparian” has a scientific as well as a belletristic significance. Apparently, riparian describes the ecological system immediately next to (but not in) water. Interesting. Perhaps the shepherds were onto something. Certainly the availability of a body of water near a picnic populated with floral-clad British matrons presents comedic possibilities somewhat richer than those available in other pastoral settings.
Another feature of the riparian (or possibly the borders between the riparian and the somewhat drier ecology that forms a buffer between desert and riparian—I would need to look that up) appears to be rattlesnakes. “Please protect the rattlesnakes,” read the signs. Until reading these signs, I was unaware that rattlesnakes needed protection. They are, after all, venomous serpents, a class/family/order of animals with long-standing bad press. Cleopatra was apparently killed by one, and these animals are now even less popular given Voldemort’s affinity with all manner of legless reptiles. However, it seems that, in the United States, certain rattlesnakes are endangered due to human encroachment on their habitats. In the parks, rattlesnakes are therefore protected, which means that we humans shouldn’t trouble them at all, and if we get bitten, should just whip out the snake bite kit and deal. Luckily, rattlesnakes are pretty smart and like to stay away from much larger animals that could possibly step on their heads and kill them.
Grand Canyon Isis Temple—who knew?
The Grand Canyon is full of geological marvels, among which are various temples to the gods, including Isis. Mighty Isis ought, probably, to have known this; however, her research on the Grand Canyon was such that she was not quite sure what state it was in, or how many states, for that matter. Oh well… you can’t know everything.
Luckily, the canyon is pretty large and a lot of people know how to get there. In fact, you can even plug “Grand Canyon” into mapquest and get directions without even knowing what state it’s in. Not too shabby, if you ask me.
Of course, when choosing an airport, it is generally helpful to know the corect state to fly into…
Luckily, the canyon is pretty large and a lot of people know how to get there. In fact, you can even plug “Grand Canyon” into mapquest and get directions without even knowing what state it’s in. Not too shabby, if you ask me.
Of course, when choosing an airport, it is generally helpful to know the corect state to fly into…
GRAND CANYON—NO CAFFEINE, PLEASE
The Grand Canyon is one of the largest tourist attractions in the US, and it draws visitors from all over the world. It is also staffed by people from around the world, which makes my recent experience at a Grand Canyon deli a bit surprising.
The deli would not be a top candidate for an award for following the efficiency principles that once made the Ford corporation the admiration of the world. In fact, I was quite shocked at the number of people standing around doing nothing while others were manning 2 or 3 stations simultaneously. Many hungry visitors, myself included, were surprised at the extreme slowness of the cashiers, until we realized that they were also making the fancy coffee drinks while other people stood around and chatted.
The man in front of me on line wanted a cup of decaf. That’s all he wanted, but he’s not from this country and English is not his first language, so he asked for a cup of coffee with no caffeine. Nothing was wrong with the request. He pronounced everything correctly. He was audible, polite, and clear. Of course, American counter workers are not programmed to listen to these requests, and possibly have no idea what the difference between coffee and “decaf” might be, aside from the color coffee pot.
So, the kid behind the counter got confused, then started cross questioning the man. “What? Coffee? A Latte? Do you want a latte? What kind of latte? Espresso? Skim milk?”
The man, manfully, repeated his simple request for a cup of coffee with no caffeine. The kid, nonplussed, continued to rattle off cryptic coffee language in a desperate attempt to figure out what was going on. Even I, a fairly fluent native speaker, didn’t understand what he was jabbering.
As I watched this exchange, my stomach growling, I got frustrated, then a bit perturbed. Why on earth was this kid behaving like this? Had no one let on the simple secret to finding out what your customer wants: listening instead of talking? Obviously the man had an accent of some sort, so perhaps listening to him and trying to figure out what he wanted rather than stunning him with a miscellany of coffee-related terms picked up from Starbucks might have been an appropriate response. I looked for a manager, but the only possibility appeared to be deep in conversation with another kid about the appropriate ratio of frozen sausage bits to “pizza.”
Finally, feeling faint and slightly hypoglycemic, I stepped in…. “He wants a cup of decaf.” I said. The man turned to look at me, and said, “Coffee.” And I nodded and said, “Coffee…no caffeine?” He smiled—woo hoo, someone was listening to him. “Yes. Coffee. No Caffeine. Decaf.” I looked at the kid and said again, “Decaf. He wants a decaf. No caffeine.” The kid said, “Oh! Decaf! That’s at the next counter, Sir” and pointed helpfully before ignoring the Italian-speaking family behind me who had said “no” to pizza because they wanted the fried chicken.
At the next counter, the man asked for decaf and everyone was happy…except the people still patiently waiting to get their chicken.
The deli would not be a top candidate for an award for following the efficiency principles that once made the Ford corporation the admiration of the world. In fact, I was quite shocked at the number of people standing around doing nothing while others were manning 2 or 3 stations simultaneously. Many hungry visitors, myself included, were surprised at the extreme slowness of the cashiers, until we realized that they were also making the fancy coffee drinks while other people stood around and chatted.
The man in front of me on line wanted a cup of decaf. That’s all he wanted, but he’s not from this country and English is not his first language, so he asked for a cup of coffee with no caffeine. Nothing was wrong with the request. He pronounced everything correctly. He was audible, polite, and clear. Of course, American counter workers are not programmed to listen to these requests, and possibly have no idea what the difference between coffee and “decaf” might be, aside from the color coffee pot.
So, the kid behind the counter got confused, then started cross questioning the man. “What? Coffee? A Latte? Do you want a latte? What kind of latte? Espresso? Skim milk?”
The man, manfully, repeated his simple request for a cup of coffee with no caffeine. The kid, nonplussed, continued to rattle off cryptic coffee language in a desperate attempt to figure out what was going on. Even I, a fairly fluent native speaker, didn’t understand what he was jabbering.
As I watched this exchange, my stomach growling, I got frustrated, then a bit perturbed. Why on earth was this kid behaving like this? Had no one let on the simple secret to finding out what your customer wants: listening instead of talking? Obviously the man had an accent of some sort, so perhaps listening to him and trying to figure out what he wanted rather than stunning him with a miscellany of coffee-related terms picked up from Starbucks might have been an appropriate response. I looked for a manager, but the only possibility appeared to be deep in conversation with another kid about the appropriate ratio of frozen sausage bits to “pizza.”
Finally, feeling faint and slightly hypoglycemic, I stepped in…. “He wants a cup of decaf.” I said. The man turned to look at me, and said, “Coffee.” And I nodded and said, “Coffee…no caffeine?” He smiled—woo hoo, someone was listening to him. “Yes. Coffee. No Caffeine. Decaf.” I looked at the kid and said again, “Decaf. He wants a decaf. No caffeine.” The kid said, “Oh! Decaf! That’s at the next counter, Sir” and pointed helpfully before ignoring the Italian-speaking family behind me who had said “no” to pizza because they wanted the fried chicken.
At the next counter, the man asked for decaf and everyone was happy…except the people still patiently waiting to get their chicken.
06 August 2007
Illuminations
One of the many striking things about the Dead Sea Scroll exhibit is the set of sample pages from the new, hand-made illuminated bible currently being crafted by artists, scribes, calligraphers, and other experts.
The new pages range from really pretty to kind of creepy to a bit psychedelic.
However, I found myself thinking as I looked at these new pages, and then at the reproduction Gutenberg bible and the old manuscript pages….like the ones I’ve been seeing in museums for the past few decades…”Wow…these things must have looked really great when they were new…”
Odd, that, because I really don’t, nor, I imagine, do most people, think of illuminated manuscripts as something new. Maybe I’ll go back to the gallery in Bethlehem and get one of the cool illuminations I’ve been admiring.
The new pages range from really pretty to kind of creepy to a bit psychedelic.
However, I found myself thinking as I looked at these new pages, and then at the reproduction Gutenberg bible and the old manuscript pages….like the ones I’ve been seeing in museums for the past few decades…”Wow…these things must have looked really great when they were new…”
Odd, that, because I really don’t, nor, I imagine, do most people, think of illuminated manuscripts as something new. Maybe I’ll go back to the gallery in Bethlehem and get one of the cool illuminations I’ve been admiring.
Poor Mr. Ibex
The Dead Sea Scroll exhibit starts, interestingly enough, with a discussion and presentation of the confluence of climactic conditions between the Levant and San Diego, which are two of the few areas worldwide that share the Mediterranean-type climate the promoted the long-term preservation of parchment, papyrus, and copper. (I think I've been reading too much museum-speak...)
I found this part of the exhibit to be very interesting, in part because my recent ancestry is Mediterranean, in part because I’ve been to some of the other Mediterranean climate locales, and also because I’ve been fascinated by a series of books that are set in a similar climate. So, my brain is teeming with images of Dead Sea scrolls, clay jars, Bedouin matchboxes, and the ibex.
I feel a bit bad for the ibex. First of all, they’re these little, cute goats that can eat very salty food without getting sick, so they are starting out behind the 8-ball. Second, they are, apparently, descended from the group of goats that were routinely killed in order to make things like the scrolls. Third, it takes a lot of goats to make a scroll. I suppose it depends on the length of the scroll, but, according to the helpful informational video presented in the scroll exhibit, you can only get three or four manuscript pages from a single goat, and it takes a lot of pages to make a roll of parchment.
Which puts me in mind of Harry Potter. Those kids are routinely writing dozens of rolls of parchment for assignments, letters, and whatnot. How many goats died to make those scrolls? Or are they multiplied using a magical process?
I found this part of the exhibit to be very interesting, in part because my recent ancestry is Mediterranean, in part because I’ve been to some of the other Mediterranean climate locales, and also because I’ve been fascinated by a series of books that are set in a similar climate. So, my brain is teeming with images of Dead Sea scrolls, clay jars, Bedouin matchboxes, and the ibex.
I feel a bit bad for the ibex. First of all, they’re these little, cute goats that can eat very salty food without getting sick, so they are starting out behind the 8-ball. Second, they are, apparently, descended from the group of goats that were routinely killed in order to make things like the scrolls. Third, it takes a lot of goats to make a scroll. I suppose it depends on the length of the scroll, but, according to the helpful informational video presented in the scroll exhibit, you can only get three or four manuscript pages from a single goat, and it takes a lot of pages to make a roll of parchment.
Which puts me in mind of Harry Potter. Those kids are routinely writing dozens of rolls of parchment for assignments, letters, and whatnot. How many goats died to make those scrolls? Or are they multiplied using a magical process?
02 August 2007
Scotch Tape: Bane of the Dead Sea Scrolls
Back in the day, technology and discovery were much different. And who knew, that, exactly? A lot of people, apparently, because it took a lot of people to put together the lovely exhibit of the Dead Sea Scrolls in San Diego.
I know I was impressed.
Now, as it happens, Bedouins, who were not exactly what we Americans would call “enfranchised” at the time, first discovered the scrolls. Lingering prejudice is evident in the rhetorical stance of the captioning of the story of the scrolls’ discovery. They present a picture of the man who “probably” discovered the scrolls, an undercutting of first-person narrative that does not occur again in the exhibit. In fact, the Bedouins were forced to smuggle the scrolls in bits and pieces in match boxes and cigar tins in order to vend them… Hmmm… I’m thinking that Karl Marx, had he been alive at the time, would have had something to say about this. Luckily, I’m not that well versed in his ideology, so I can move on to my main point, which is:
I found it odd that Bedouins are somehow less reliable than the scholars who put SCOTCH TAPE on the Dead Sea Scrolls and ruined some of them forever.
Yes, that’s right. Scotch tape ruined the Dead Sea Scrolls. And what, you may ask, possessed them to do such a thing? Well, let's consider that the development of cellophane sticky tape was a marvel of epic proportions, rivaling that of presliced bread, penicillin, and the biro. Yes, once upon a time, scotch tape was cutting-edge technology, so what could be easier? And apparently, no one thought to ask any archivists (experts trained specifically to preserve old documents made out of parchment, like the Dead Sea Scrolls) how to handle these rarest of all archival documents. I mean, why ask an expert when you have sticky tape and some language scholars who don’t know that much about the physical properties of parchment? As a scholar with a bit of the sticky tape fetish (I own at least a dozen rolls, personally, maybe more), even I find this state of affairs quite appalling. It would be like putting rare documents together with extra-sticky post-it notes and crazy glue.
Of course, decades after the scotch tape was applied, as researchers were, literally, weeping as they watched the scrolls dissolve into piles of goo or shrivel into dust before their eyes, experts questioned the wisdom of the tape route. Oopsies.
Today, what remains of the scrolls, having been salvaged by actual, trained archivists, is appropriately mounted on scotch-tape free, acid-free paper, and stored under conditions that will actually prevent their decay. What I find a bit distressing is that the archivists of yesteryear would probably have done a similarly good job had they been asked.
I know I was impressed.
Now, as it happens, Bedouins, who were not exactly what we Americans would call “enfranchised” at the time, first discovered the scrolls. Lingering prejudice is evident in the rhetorical stance of the captioning of the story of the scrolls’ discovery. They present a picture of the man who “probably” discovered the scrolls, an undercutting of first-person narrative that does not occur again in the exhibit. In fact, the Bedouins were forced to smuggle the scrolls in bits and pieces in match boxes and cigar tins in order to vend them… Hmmm… I’m thinking that Karl Marx, had he been alive at the time, would have had something to say about this. Luckily, I’m not that well versed in his ideology, so I can move on to my main point, which is:
I found it odd that Bedouins are somehow less reliable than the scholars who put SCOTCH TAPE on the Dead Sea Scrolls and ruined some of them forever.
Yes, that’s right. Scotch tape ruined the Dead Sea Scrolls. And what, you may ask, possessed them to do such a thing? Well, let's consider that the development of cellophane sticky tape was a marvel of epic proportions, rivaling that of presliced bread, penicillin, and the biro. Yes, once upon a time, scotch tape was cutting-edge technology, so what could be easier? And apparently, no one thought to ask any archivists (experts trained specifically to preserve old documents made out of parchment, like the Dead Sea Scrolls) how to handle these rarest of all archival documents. I mean, why ask an expert when you have sticky tape and some language scholars who don’t know that much about the physical properties of parchment? As a scholar with a bit of the sticky tape fetish (I own at least a dozen rolls, personally, maybe more), even I find this state of affairs quite appalling. It would be like putting rare documents together with extra-sticky post-it notes and crazy glue.
Of course, decades after the scotch tape was applied, as researchers were, literally, weeping as they watched the scrolls dissolve into piles of goo or shrivel into dust before their eyes, experts questioned the wisdom of the tape route. Oopsies.
Today, what remains of the scrolls, having been salvaged by actual, trained archivists, is appropriately mounted on scotch-tape free, acid-free paper, and stored under conditions that will actually prevent their decay. What I find a bit distressing is that the archivists of yesteryear would probably have done a similarly good job had they been asked.
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