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July 26, 2006
Good teachers
I had good teachers, and remember two the best: Mr. Olson, who gave me a love of history, and the inestimable Rhoda Hansen, who coached speech and debate. To the callow student who drew her for English, she must have seemed like a bemused bird of prey; to those of us who had her for a coach, she was the ultimate authority on the superficial aspects of our craft. How to stand. How to walk. How to gesture. She was also the one who tore apart our arguments and built them back up, taught us to construct a thesis, rebut on the fly and think on our feet, act like junior Barrymores, deliver a humorous speech or a tearjerking monologue, then head over to the Extemporaneous Speaking round and whip a defense of Israel or the 55-MPH speed limit out of our own heads in 15 minutes. She had a sense of sarcasm sharp enough to shave granite in micrometer-thin slices. When you got one of her exfoliating critiques you felt it down to the bone, and when she reacted to your humorous speech with her dry smoker’s cackle – the tenth time she’d heard it! – you were on top of the world. She treated us all like grown-ups who’d unaccountably ended up in high school, but she wasn't our peer and she wasn't our pal; if we doubted her authority, it took one arched eyebrow to bat us back into place. She expected victory and she got it. She loved us and we loved her. She was the most important teacher of my life.
I sat at my desk in the motel; I cracked the window. I made a pot of coffee. I got out the phone book. I had a cup, collected my thoughts, dialed the number, and wondered why I felt so oddly nervous. Well, because it was Mrs. Hansen, that’s why.
She was pleased I’d called. She read the column; she’d kept up. She was happy I’d done well. I told her what I wrote above, more or less. I felt 15 again. I felt like I should be standing in front of her desk, hands clasped behind my back (the reverse fig-leaf position, she’d called it) while she gave me a critique of my career since leaving her charge. She was dismissive of her impact – why, I had so much energy and so many ideas, I was easy to teach – but I had to set her straight on that. She gave me confidence and craft, without which energy and ideas just fizz away. I will always owe you everything.
We said goodbye. I closed the phone and put it on the desk and looked at it. Damn.
What took me so long to do that.
"The Trip Home, Con't." by James Lileks, The Bleat, July 26, 2006
Posted at 06:47 AM · Comments (0) · TrackBack (0) · Categories: students
July 21, 2006
Moral Authority
The problem with Moral Authority is its antonym, the Palestinian Authority. Does Dean mean the Oslo accords? President Clinton had been in office less than a year. There‘s a reason they’re not the Little Rock Accords: Norwegian diplomats did all the heavy lifting. (Specifically, suspending disbelief about Arafat’s motives, which can throw your back out if you’re not careful.) Does Dean mean the Camp David negotiations, which ended in the bloody second intifada? Details, details. Moral authority, that’s what counts. Doesn’t stop wars, but it makes the bad guys look extra guilty. Ingrates!
"You can’t call this the Arab-Israeli war of 06, since the usual belligerents have declined to participate," by James Lileks, Screedblog, July 21, 2006
Posted at 08:57 AM · Comments (0) · TrackBack (0) · Categories: Humor , Politics , Terrorism
July 17, 2006
Unfortunate Consequences
I think there are ideas that have unfortunate consequences, but for the most part they’re held by people who believe they will have fortunate outcomes.
. . .
I’d like to think I’m a pragmatist; I’m resigned to dying in a country much different than the one into which I was born. Resigned, and grateful; disappointed, and relieved. Some of those changes will be for the better, some for the worst. Both will the result of people with whom I agreed on some things and disagreed on others. Duh. In the end I’m an optimist about America, but maybe I just hang around too many Democracy-Whiskey-Sexy right wingers instead of the glum egg-suckers who believe we’re lost until we return to our revolutionary 18th century roots and privatize NASA. At the end of the day the average Democrat isn't going to sign on with International ANSWER anymore than average Republicans will wear pointy white hats to their national convention, and most of the overheated demonization of the Dummycrats or Rethuglicans only shouts to the choir. There are countries where the divisions are truly deep and truly fatal. This isn't one of them. If it is, then there are no words left to describe Iraq.
"Friday night," James Lileks, The Bleat, July 17, 2006
Posted at 07:47 AM · Comments (0) · TrackBack (0) · Categories: Humor