Category Archives: New York Times

The more things change …

On the surface, Daniel Okrent’s new book, Last Call: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition, sounds like another interesting read about a quaint tradition from the distant past. But as reviewer David Oshinsky makes clear, there are some chilling parallels with today — but NOT in the areas I was expecting.

First, I was sadly unaware of the many connections, both sinister and innocent, that led to the 18th Amendment. As Oshinsky notes, there are studies a’plenty on Carry Nation, Billy Sunday, Al Capone, and the rest. But only Okrent puts the 18th fully in context:

“Knowing that alcohol taxes accounted for about one-third of all federal revenue, temperance leaders campaigned successfully for a federal income tax to make up the difference. Believing that women were more likely than men to support restrictions on alcohol, these leaders strongly supported women’s suffrage. And when America entered World War I in 1917, helped fan the flames of anti-German hysteria by accusing the Busch family and other brewers of harboring sympathies for the kaiser (a charge, not entirely untrue, that turned beer drinking into a disloyal act).”

There’s much more, of course. In the end, Oshinsky notes that Last Call resists the temptation to link what happened in the 1920s to what’s happening now in the political climate. Okrent may resist — but Oshinsky does not:

“About a century ago, a group of determined activists mobilized to confront the moral decay they claimed was destroying their country. Their public demon was alcohol. but their real enemy was an alien culture reflected by city dwellers, recent immigrants and educated elites. Always a minority, the forces of Prohibition drove the political agenda by concentrating relentlessly on their goal, voting in lock-step on a single issue and threatening politicians who did not sufficiently back their demands. They triumphed because they faced no organized opposition. Americans were too distracted — perhaps too busy drinking — to notice what they had lost. It’s a story with an eerily familiar ring.”

When Smokey Sings …

Debonair lullabies in melodies revealed/In deep despair on lonely nights/He knows just how you feel/The slyest rhymes — the sharpest suits/In miracles made real

Like a bird in flight on a hot sweet night/You know you’re right just to hold her tight/He soothes it right — makes it outtasight/And everything’s good in the world tonight

When Smokey sings — I hear violins/When Smokey sings — I forget everything

I heard this today in the pharmacy. Getting Krill Oil, of all things (doctor’s orders), and when this song came over the sound system, I was transported.

OK, I admit it. I’m a sucker for the New Romantics — especially ABC ‘s “When Smokey Sings” (with “Be Near Me” a distant second). Poetry in motion. The lyrics are filled with allusions to Smokey Robinson’s sublime lyrics, the music is both timeless and wonderfully, hopelessly dated to a certain point in time in the ’80s. 

Transcendence. That’s what we’re looking for. Even once a week would be wonderful. Twice would be divine.

It had already happened earlier in the week in — where else — The New York Times in Jim Dwyer’s delicious, detail-filled column, “Businesses Too Loved to Fail.”  A short feature on a couple of well-loved, but struggling neighborhood businesses in New York. Concise, specific, punchy, full of memorable people and, just as importantly, effortlessly making an Important Point without reading like a writer trying to make an Important Point.

If I could teach my students to write like this, to appreciate feature writing of this caliber, that would be a life’s goal. Heck, if I could write like that, that would be a life’s goal.

When Smokey sings …

That effortless grace, be it ABC’s career-defining song or Jim Dwyer’s turn of a phrase comes from more than just practice, it comes from passion. Every note, every beat, the right note, the right beat. Every word, the absolute right word. Nothing else will do.

That’s what creates transcendence … that momentary whiff of heaven that comes from the creation of something original, of something special. It’s when we create that, perhaps, we are closest to the Creator.

Luther croons/Sly’s the original — originator/James screams/Marvin was the only innovator/But nothing can compare/Nothing can compare/When Smokey sings …

Slip-sliding away …

Slip sliding away, slip sliding away
You know the nearer your destination, the more you’re slip sliding away
— Paul Simon 

Steven Strogatz has a wonderful new series of blogs in The New York Times “Opinionator” section. They’re on why we should love math. Really.

The first two — “From Fish to Infinity” and “Rock Groups” — capture the enthusiasm he has for the subject. He writes well, chooses great illustrations, and clearly loves this stuff. He also cites “Sesame Street,” which is always a good thing.

In the comments section on “Rock Star,” Melissa (from Hawaii) doesn’t get one of the points Strogatz is making. A number of readers volunteer to help her out — all in a genial, gentle way. Gotta love those New York Times readers!

It’s OK, Melissa. I didn’t understand everything Strogatz said, either. Nor did I understand your question. In fact, I didn’t understand most of the explanations for your question, either.

I wanted to, of course. But the more I read, the more I found my mind slip-sliding away. It was as if my brain was Teflon (c). I loved the Strogatz columns, but they washed over me like a gentle rain. None of the material actually sank in. And I really tried. Honest.

And you know what? That’s OK, too. Strogatz has an over-riding main point about these columns, as best as I can tell. He wants to share his love of the elegant perfection that is mathematics. He wants to rescue it from the drugery of rote memorization and endless algebraic and geometry equations. And I get that. I really do.

I’ll read some more of his columns. I probably won’t understand them any better. But I’ll get swept up in his passion and enjoy the ride. I don’t have to master the mathematics. I just have to remember the journey.

Studies show that our students remember very little of the specifics of what we teach, especially in the classes that they believe don’t directly apply to their major (or what they consider their major at that particular point in time) or chosen profession. I can see it in many of their faces. They’re smiling at me and their minds are slip-sliding away.

But, if in the end, they remember that I loved this stuff, that I thought it was important, and I cared enough to share my enthusiasm, then maybe they’ll come back to it later, maybe it’ll matter to them at some point in the future when they’re a little more experienced, when they’ve had some time to reflect.

I’m good with that.

What are we teaching?

Perhaps you saw the article in The New York Times on 10/20/09: “Field Study: Just How Relevant is Political Science?” (C1) While the piece specifically addresses research, I believe it has a message for university teachers as well, one that is contained in this quote from Joseph Nye, a professor at the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard:

“The danger is that political science is moving in the direction of saying more and more about less and less.”

Substitute the academic disciple of your choice for “political science” …

The underlying question here is directed only at me, and it is one I need to continually address — “Am I teaching what my students really need to know OR what I was taught 35 years ago that they need?”