In the Stacks

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I’ve discovered since I (re-)started school at Cal last month that its main library is amazing. I’ve had a couple topics to read about that are pretty arcane, and I’ve been pleased to discover that the library has the books I’ve been looking for and, to my surprise, they’re all available in the stacks. (The stacks themselves are another subject: since the last time I frequented the library, a gigantic underground annex was built, and that’s where all the books are now.)

I’m looking for material on reactions in Ireland to the American Civil War. One reason: About 150,000 Irish immigrants and Irish Americans served in the war. And for another: The Irish in America turn out to have been, in general, pretty unsympathetic to the idea of emancipation; in fact, “pretty unsympathetic” could be seen as a euphemism for “virulently racist.” Exhibit A for that might be the New York Draft Riots in 1863.

Anyway, I started looking for stuff on this subject, and to my surprise I found a book that deals explicitly with this topic: “Celts, Catholics and Copperheads,” a 1968 book (actually available online) by someone named Joseph M. Hernon, Jr. It’s a short book, perhaps a good fit a narrow topic. I checked with the UC-Berkeley library catalog, and sure enough, it was listed. Not only that, but it was on the shelf. I went and checked it out yesterday.

After I got home, I took a look at the loan slip just out of curiosity about how many hands this book has passed through. There are two slips in the book; the one pictured above is pasted over the original. The slips show the book came into the library in 1969 and was checked out four or five times in its first three years in the collection. Until yesterday, it had been checked out six times in the last 36 years, with gaps of three, two, ten, eleven, two and two years between borrowers. The last time it was checked out was six years ago. From the wear it has suffered, you would guess the book has had a more active life; maybe it spent some time in the home of a graduate student whose kids used it as a Frisbee.

I’m sure there are plenty of volumes in that big vault of books that have been borrowed even less frequently. It makes me wonder about the volume of library patronage on one hand and wonder at the commitment to keep all this stuff available. Maybe I’ll be able to dig up some library statistics; too big a project for this morning, though.

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Paper

Some weeks back, I think I mentioned that I’m back in school, trying to earn my history degree at UC-Berkeley. I’ll talk more about it soon, I promise. About the dull class that has turned out to be much more engaging than I imagined it could be during that first week. About the very challenging class on linguistics that has me thinking about the merits of going for a pass/not pass grade. About the oddly off-putting experience of a sociology-type class looking at the phenomenon of AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa, and how I’ve dropped that one.

But for now, this: The week before last, I had to turn in my first paper since the Carter administration. The class is Irish history–I half feel like the native Parisian taking Elementary French, but that’s another story. The paper was to be a reflection on the record that Alexis de Tocqueville, the 19th century political sociologist, left of a trip he took through Ireland in 1835. (Do I hear pulses speeding up out there in blogland?)

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Continue reading “Paper”

Daily Planet

Watervapor

I happened to be looking at the local National Weather Service site the other day and started looking at the directory of satellite pictures. There’s nothing new about them — in my generation, we’ve been seeing something like this since we were kids. Since they’re familiar, it’s easy to overlook them, or to not really look at them. The beauty strikes me on several levels: the planet, the movement of weather, the fact we manage to put all the tools together to gather the images, make them available, and find ways to look beyond the visible images (as in the color enhanced water-vapor image above; somewhere in all the swirling moisture is a storm that’s supposed to arrive the day after tomorrow).

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Free Speech Festival

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(Click for larger version. More photos here.)

Walked through Martin Luther King Jr./Civic Center/Provo Park on the way back home from class, hoping to take in the confrontation between the pro-troop, pro-Iraq (and maybe pro-free speech) contingents and our dependable local antiwaristas. From afar, the only sign that democracy was in ferment was a Cessna circling slowly over downtown towing a banner reading “Semper Fidelis.” The confrontation turned out to appear pretty good natured. I saw a trio carrying what they probably hoped would be provocative signs (sample: “Pink is the new color of treason,” referring to the local Code Pink antiwar group). They looked glum and seemed to be leaving. Apart from that, plenty of the “we love the troops” people seemed to be talking earnestly and calmly to the “we love the troops just as much” people. I came away thinking that, except for the fact the gathering was occasioned by a dumb City Council vote, this was a pretty neat display of dialogue.

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Sowing, Reaping

Today, Berkeley lives up to one of its nicknames–The Open Ward.*

The City Council will meet to take back its laughably ill-considered invitation for the U.S. Marines to take their recruiting office and scram. The city’s officially designated antiwar protest group, Code Pink, will be doing a daylong group hand-wring downtown. They’ll be joined by a contingent of angry We Love the Troops protesters [who have already showed up and in fact are screaming that they have been attacked by the Code Pinkers!]. We may even be honored by a visit from the Rev. Fred Phelps antigay hate squad from Topeka, Kansas.

Listening to council members and reading what they have to say, it’s depressing and hilarious to hear their puzzlement about the intensity of the storm they stirred up. Depressing, I guess, because of the collective lack of understanding that there’s a free speech issue involved here; hilarious because of the naivete that blinded them to the likelihood that calling the Marines “unwelcome intruders” would trigger outrage not just from pro-war, pro-military quarters but from First Amendment-loving anti-war liberals as well.

What they say about sowing and reaping–it’s true.

*OK — The Open Ward used to apply specifically to Telegraph Avenue. Today, I think it’s fair to apply the name more widely.

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Vignette

Early afternoon, and The Dog wants a walk. We take a meandering route through North Berkeley, winding up in the straggle of streets named after California counties. Back around the turn of the last century, some locals put in a bid to have the state capital relocated here, and the county streets are a legacy of that. Approaching Yolo Avenue — Yolo is the county at the southwestern edge of the Sacramento Valley — I spot a car I’ve seen before. Or rather, a license plate: “Pearl Harbor Survivor.” It’s official California issue and has a four-digit number. I always wonder what the owner’s story is, and that crosses my mind again.

Just then, The Dog signals — there’s a certain gait and body language involved — that he’s about to take a dump. The spot he chooses is at the foot of a raised deck attached to the house where the Pearl Harbor Survivor’s car is parked. The sliding glass door out to the deck is open. It’s too late for me to get The Dog to move on. I think, what if the Pearl Harbor Survivor emerges to find a dog squatting in his yard? It seems like an indignity a Pearl Harbor Survivor should not have to witness.

While I’m contemplating that, I hear the voice of an older man coming from inside the house. Singing. The tune and lyrics are familiar: “Wyatt Earp, Wyatt Earp/Brave courageous and bold…,” though I can’t be sure he’s not substituting some other name for “Wyatt Earp.” I haven’t heard that song in a long time; not since I was kid watching the Hugh O’Brien western series in reruns.

The Dog finishes what he’s doing. I scoop up the leavings, as required by city ordinance, with a plastic bag I’m wearing over my hand. The Dog and I move on, and the Pearl Harbor Survivor’s peace is undisturbed.

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Seventy

The principal memory from last weekend: the constant cold rain from late morning to midnight Saturday. It marked the end of about four weeks of storms coming in off the Pacific. Depending on the weather reporting station you checked, we got anywhere between ten and a half and thirteen inches of rain during that span. A foot of rain in a month is a lot any way you figure it. It started clearing up Sunday, though, and Monday and Tuesday were sunny and about 60 degrees. Except for a foggy start to Wednesday, that’s the way the whole week was.

But yesterday, yesterday was something. We woke up late and took The Dog out for a walk around 9:30 in the morning. The chill was already off the air. We spent much of the afternoon attacking the big tracts of weeds in the back yard; at our place, anyway, the temperature pushed 70. It stayed warm even after the sun went down. Mosquitoes appeared for scored the first bites of the season.

Today, much like yesterday. Looking at the forecast, we’ve got a week of dry weather coming; maybe that portends a break for people back east, though I know there are storms slipping down toward the center of the country from the Pacific Northwest. I don’t count on the dry weather lasting, and in the rhythm of our climate one starts hoping that the storms will be back to build up our summer water supply (stored in the Sierra snows). The break is nice, though.

On into tonight, which will be a late one for the fogies. We’re going off to a show at The Fillmore–the first time I’ve ever gone there. It’s a Christmas present from one of the kids, and a nice end to the weekend.

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Semper Berkeley

It’s national news: The Berkeley City Council voted last week to invite the U.S. Marine Corps recruiting office to leave our town. The council put the Corps on notice that if it failed to move on, it should know that its status here is one of an “uninvited and unwelcome intruder.” And last, our elected representatives expressed support for “antiwar groups residents and organizations such as Code Pink that may volunteer to impede, passively or actively, by nonviolent means, the work of any military recruiting office located in the city of Berkeley.”

Of course, things haven’t stopped there. The right-wingers are exercised, and a group of them, a clutch of Southern senators, has taken the probably predictable step of introducing a bill (the Semper Fi Act) to strip Berkeley of $2 million or so of federal earmarks approved in the last session of Congress. In its press release, the group points out that it’s trying to kill $975,000 for a project at the University of California, Berkeley, despite the fact the university had nothing to do with the City Council action besides happening to exist inside the same town limits.

The release also delights in announcing it would withdraw $243,000 set aside for “gourmet organic school lunches.” Oh, that stings, but the senators don’t know the difference between “nutritious” and “gourmet,” or believe that it means the same thng. What they’re actually referring to is a very successful and long-running project that turned an acre of weed-choked asphalt at a local middle school into a thriving organic garden. The kids at the school raise food; they learn how to prepare it, too. My guess is that the money might have been going to a project the school district has had a hard time funding: a new kitchen and cafeteria associated with the garden project. In any case, the Berkeley school district didn’t have a say in the City Council’s action, either.

And now: how about that City Council. The vote they took was intended to make a statement against the Iraq war. Why a statement was needed five years into the war and more than a year after the Marines arrived I don’t yet understand. But there it is.

I haven’t been writing about the war much lately, but I think about it every day, and the wastefulness of it on every level never fails to anger me. Beyond that, I’m more and more distressed to live in a country that has turned the military and the idea of military service into a superpatriotic cult. There’s a reason the nation was created without a large standing army and made do without one, except in the most dire emergencies, for the first 150 years after the Constitution was adopted. Beyond the mere fact of our huge armed establishment, the blind civic celebration of the military above and beyond every other institution in society is a danger to the democracy its supposed to protect.

I probably agree with most members of the City Council on the war. I have no problem with people protesting Iraq, or with people protesting the protesters, either. But I think the Marines are more than an agent of the war; in a very real way, they represent a viewpoint and are part of the debate in our society over both the war and the role of the military in society. They’re also a means by which members of the society might express their opinion of these issues; there are many thoughtful people in the ranks who are talking insightfully about the experience of war and the role of American military power in the world. Because I see the Marines, both the institution and the members, that way–as a participant in the marketplace of ideas–I think it’s misguided to try to shut them down here; to try to shut them down as a matter of public policy is simply wrong.

To do that, to shut up your opponent to score a point in an argument, betrays the ideal of free speech, one that need not and ought not rely on force or censorship. To give in to the temptation to muzzle an opinion invites intolerance from your opponent. And round and round we go.

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About Last Night

One lesson learned from Super Tuesday — one covered exclusively here, not at your CNN or your fancy East Coast paper or smart, edgy blog — is that I suck as a prognosticator. Not that I was trying to do much of that, but I was carried away oh so momentarily by a belief that an exit poll or two could lead me to some sort of interesting insight. I found it’s not true, though if you ever find yourself waiting for election returns, there are worse ways of spending your time than reading an exit poll.

Another more generally expressed lesson is that the people have spoken. I’ll just add my voice to say that Idaho, North Dakota, Kansas et cetera aside, for a Democrat to win a national election you need to win those big states where Hillary Clinton was finishing first, mostly. Just saying.

And finally: Last night I was volleying emails with my friend Pete as we watched election returns online. Perusing the count in my own county, Alameda, I checked on a whim what was happening in the Libertarian primary. With about a third of the votes counted, “Write-In” was leading a field of about a dozen identified candidates, with 67 votes. I conveyed the news to Pete, who wrote back:

“Or as Wolf Blitzer would put it: In the Libertarian contest, a highly contested contest, that contest in Alameda County, ‘Write In’ — ‘Write In’ — is leading a field of a dozen candidates. That race in Alameda County among Libertarians. 67 votes for the Libertarian candidate leading there, ‘Write In,’ besting a field of a dozen candidates right now, with a third of the precints reporting, that result right now in Alameda County among Libertarians. We’ll be watching that contest very closely throughout the night, this historic night, the biggest primary election day, now well into the night, in American history.”

I checked this morning. Write-In prevailed.

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Super Bowl Sunset

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Inside, the Super Bowl. What a great game, especially Eli Manning pulling away from those guys who were trying to pull him down and throwing the ball to the receiver who caught it on the top of his helmet.

Outside, me trying to take a fancy sunset shot using the van windows. I’ll come back to this. …

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