Tradeoffs

So it turns out that it takes me a lot longer to finish up a book now that I have two kids than it did back when I only had one. Or when I didn’t have any kids, for that matter. Or back when I was single. Or when I was unemployed.

These are the tradeoffs, ladies and gentlemen. My life has been enriched with a rewarding job, a sweet companion for a wife and two uniquely cool little kids, but I must pay for this in free time. Like the typical American consumer, I am leveraged to the hilt. I have zero leisure liquidity. (Don’t ask where I’m getting the time to write this, smart guy, because I’m writing it while I’m going to the bathroom. So there.) I’m crammed full of life’s enrichment, like a washtub brimming with applesauce.

There was a simpler time in my life when I was able to repose and read history books, accompanied only by the crackling roar of a cozy fire and my silken nightgarments. I was served spiced refreshments by Quigley, my faithful manservant, who always knew the perfect moments to whisper my name and lift my pipe to my lips for another soft, invigorating puff. Specifically, those times I speak of were the 1890s, during America’s Gilded Age, a time I visit nightly in my dreams. (Incidentally, these dreams usually end in me being slain in a labor riot by socialist insurrectionists.)

Dreamt luxuries and idleness aside, my life is actually quite lovely these days. Yes, I don’t have the same time for reading or blogging or hating my cats, but it’s frankly much cooler to have a loving wife and two little kids who need me to be a good dad.

On an unrelated note, does anybody know how to rescue a 2 year old stuck in a drying machine?

Posted in Sincerity | Leave a comment

Toward a Flu Armistice

Not since the outbreak of the Spanish flu in 1918 has the world seen such stench and suffering as was witnessed in my house over the weekend. During the epidemic a century ago, tens of millions were killed by the illness that fatefully struck during the conclusion of the Great War, as if the world had not already suffered enough for the nationalist sins of a swarthy Serbian assassin.

Our house

Equally as terrible, several people at our home recently became ill.

Late Friday night, my long and illustrious streak of vomit-free living came to an ignoble end. Swimming with flu-induced nausea, I stumbled into the bathroom, collapsed to the floor, clipping my head on the toilet, and blacked out. When I came to, I had thrown up and my jaw ached like it had just collided with the hairy knuckles of the aforementioned swarthy Serbian assassin. Pleasantness followed for the next 12 hours, as the rest of the household cowed in fear of the sickness.

Complicating matters was the fact that Bridgette’s sister and two young children were staying with us for what was scheduled to be a weekend of unrestrained, screaming frivolity. However, my illness cast such pall over the festivities that the best they could manage was a silent, sullen visit to a nearby McDonalds playland, itself likely infested with the flu and pools of syphilis.

Predictably, my sister-in-law and niece were each struck asunder by the flu last night. The circle of barf was complete, and our house sank into a sinkhole of stinking squalor. Now, all are miserable, and the only thing left is to wait for the dreaded flu to strike our kids. For the moment, they remain as unwitting about their fate as was the Austro-Hungarian archduke on that June morning in 1914. Hopefully, when our kids become sick, other neighborhood children will not be pulled in with them because of the entanglements of a misguided alliance system.

Ultimately, there really isn’t anything more to say. Our household is currently passing through the shadows of life, and we have been made miserable.

This is all Germany’s fault.

Posted in Rants | 3 Comments

Seating Chart Wisdom

There’s a lot of strategy and folk wisdom that goes into putting together a solid classroom seating chart.

Novice educators often make the mistake of thinking that the process is simple and put together some alphabetical monstrosity that torpedoes any chance at learning. A good teacher building a seating chart is like an iditarod racer selecting a hearty team of dogs for their grueling cross-country journey. They must make choices that maximize their team’s strengths, minimize their weaknesses, and forestall violent, cannibalistic insurrection.

Look at this classroom’s seating chart, for instance.

This is the mark of a master teacher – a work of rigid, fearsome, symmetrical beauty. It is impossible to tell whether these children are waiting to receive mathematics instruction or to witness a public execution. The classroom environment is spartan, the pedagogy is severe, and the technology is nonexistant. In other words, educational paradise.

In constructing their seating chart, a good teacher must first know their students. Who are the alpha males? Who’s the queen bee? Who smells like old popcorn all the time? Once assessed, the mixing and matching begins. In a way, it’s like being secretary general of the United Nations. Do you think Israel and Iran are seated next to each other? Do you suppose the Serbs and Croats are allowed to mingle freely? Hardly. A good teacher places obnoxious delinquents like Sudan in the front corner to minimize their distration while chatty butterflies like Italy are seated next to quiet, serious South Korea. Canada is a teacher’s dream – they’re responsible, pleasant, and can help defuse trenchcoat-wearing weirdos like Russia.

Properly placed, the classroom becomes a harmonious, symbiotic whole. Mishandled, the classroom becomes a flaming heap of overturned desks and desecrated bulletin boards. This is the difference between being a highly qualified educator and being a Taco Bell shift manager or combing the bears at the zoo or something else dumb.

Educators of America, you’re welcome.

Posted in Best of the JLP, Ramblings | 2 Comments

JLP Therapy

Join hands with me, friendly readers! Let us form a semicircle and celebrate happiness!

Whether you are reading this website out of morbid curiosity, misguided hostility, or untreated depression, all are welcome inside the concrete digital walls of the JLP! We’re all the same here, except some people’s hands are clammier than others, and a few geniuses insist on breathing through their mouths. Because of our universal humanity and love of being tickled, we choose to affirm one another with our words and sensuous abdominal massages.

Now that we have formed a perfectly shaped semicircle, I invite each of you to stand before us by turns and express our deepest, most inexpressible shame. Then, by your tears and our voyeurism, we shall become one. Though deeply painful and plainly unnecessary, this process is both healing and compulsory.

The world is a painful place, dear readers. Financial hardships and knife-wielding north Minneapolitans have a funny way of upending your plans and stabbing your dog right when you least expect it. That’s why your JLP friends are here. We want to help you through it by listening to you and maybe asking you to consider taking your shirt off. We are a nurturing community of rejected misfits and greasy internet weirdos. We reject traditional societal norms and ignore common social cues. Instead, we nod nurturingly and impose sweaty, restorative hugs.

Come, reluctant readers. Join our therapeutic semicircle of wellness. But remember, everything is a secret!

Posted in Raves | Leave a comment

The Real Valentine’s Day

As the blackness of night gives way to the slow, gray reveal of dawn, let us pause for a moment to rejoice.

The Feast of St. Valentine is upon us!

valentine.jpg

Today we celebrate the glory of St. Valentine, who offered himself to be devoured alive by wild beasts for the pleasure of the drunken Roman circuses in AD 269. We do this by displaying fanciful pink balloons.

I say this is no way to honor a fallen third century priest. Let us instead mount the severed head of a wild warthog on a pike! Let the black warthog blood drape us in its putrid essence! Children will flee in terror from our celebration, young lovers will vomit in disgust, and all will be made right.

You there! You shall be the one who procures a warthog for our services! Off with you now, into the dark woods. After a short time, you shall find a family of the filthy snout-beasts rutting in their own feces. Set upon them at once, hacking them limb from limb as their unholy squeals fill the sky with a cacophony of animalistic horror. Setting your broken and bloodied hacksaw aside, return the perferred portions of the warthogs to us with great haste. We must begin our writhing, debauched ceremony before nightfall.

For our part, we will remain here and set out the paper plates.

Do you hear us, St. Valentine? It won’t be long now!

Posted in Ramblings | 2 Comments

Grant and Sherman by Charles Bracelen Flood

This year’s summer reading included Charles Bracelen Flood’s excellent Grant & Sherman: The Friendship That Won the Civil War.

My book.

The book is a crisp, concise examination of the the successes, failures, and character of Ulysses S. Grant and William Tecumseh Sherman, exploring their remarkable friendship against the larger backdrop of the Civil War. Flood does a wonderful job at describing the military progress and maneuverings of the war along with the tangled political web that made up the Union Army brass. (I’d strongly recommend the book to any Civil War novice seeking to understand the major battles and prominent military figures.) While it’s always a pleasure to read about men like Lincoln, Lee, McClellan and Stanton, the figures of Grant and Sherman are the focus, and Flood expertly brings them to life in all their complexity.

Both men were Westerners, both were West Point graduates who had floundered for years before the war (Grant with his drinking, Sherman with his failed business dealings), both began the war as obscure afterthoughts in the Western theater along the Mississippi. Both men were occasionally hounded in the press (Grant as “a butcher”, Sherman as insane, or a traitor), and neither had many natural allies in the Union army. Yet, by war’s end, they stood alone as the men who had delivered victory for the Union and literally saved the nation, along with President Lincoln.

A few thoughts and reactions, mixed with some pleasant lies (please hum “Ashokan Farewell” in your heads as you read):

-The personalities of Grant and Sherman made for quite a contrast. Grant was a man of plain manners whose stooped, stoic demeanor made him easy to underestimate. He was a clear, excellent writer who usually said exactly what he meant, and from an early point was able to see the war in it’s widest scope, and how the many moving parts would have to coordinate to achieve a final victory. He was intuitively aggressive on the battlefield, a fact that set him clearly apart from most Union commanders. On the other side, Sherman had a keen intellect made evident by the ideas that habitually came racing out of his mouth. He grasped problems in all their complexity, and though he was far more prone to racial prejudice than Grant, he shared with his friend a firm empathy for the men of the Confederate Army and longed for a hasty conclusion to the war. Indeed, while both were often criticized for their perceived brutality, they understood early on that the war would could not be won superficially or through maneuverings alone. As Sherman wrote to Grant, “[The South] cannot be made to love us, but may be made to fear us.”

-Contrary to some accounts, Grant’s drinking problem never fully went away during the war. He still drank whisky to excess, on occasion, although such instances always happened during quiet spells and there was never a report that he was unable to carry out his duties. Also, when drunk, he insisted that he be addressed as “General Spiderman”.

-A major newly transferred to Sherman’s command described him as “the most American looking man I ever saw.” Today, that honor belongs to Toby Keith.

-Snippets that illustrate the character of Ulysses S. Grant:

During the Battle of the Wilderness, at a point when it looked as if Lee’s army might overrun Grant’s headquarters, he was asked by an anxious officer if they shouldn’t be moving headquarters back to a safe distance. According to a witness, “The general replied very quietly, between puffs of his cigar, ‘It strikes me it would be better to order up some artillery and defend the present location.’”

Another account from later that day, after a Union general pleaded with Grant to pull back to avoid Lee being able to cut off their supplies and communications: “Grant rose to his feet, took his cigar out of his mouth, turned to the officer, and replied, with a degree of animation he seldom manifested, ‘Oh, I am heartily tired of hearing what Lee is going to do. Some of you think he is about to turn a double somersault, and land in our rear and on both our flanks at the same time. Go back to your command, and try to think what we are going to do ourselves, instead of what Lee is going to do.’” (243)

After the conclusion of the surrender negotiations at Appomattox Courthouse, Grant stood reflecting on the steps outside a house, when Lee passed him on horseback: “Grant stopped and took off his hat. The yard became silent; every Union soldier there removed his hat and came to attention. Robert E. Lee lifted his hat once and passed through the gate…For the remaining five years of [Lee's] life, he never allowed a word against Ulysses S. Grant to be spoken in his presence.” (313)

-Grant’s beard was brown, Sherman’s was red, and Lee’s was white. The spectrum of death.

-Perhaps Grant’s greatest achievement in the war was his victory in the Siege at Vicksburg, in which he deftly coordinated his movements with ships in the Mississippi to better his angle of attack, and later intentionally cut off his army from his supply line to allow him the mobility he desired. The dramatic victory came after a long spell of Confederate victories and delivered control of the Mississippi to Federal forces. Afterwards, Grant received an astonishing letter from Lincoln. The president began by laying out all the concerns he had about Grant’s plan and how he had worried about Grant’s leadership. Lincoln then closed with, “I now wish to make the personal acknowledgement that you were right, and I was wrong.” To me, this is astonishing. Where most presidents in recent memory would gloss over their misjudgments, or say that they agreed with the plan all along, Lincoln once again displayed his remarkable humility and moral character.

-Sherman liked to say, “The worst thing about war is that there’s never anything cold to drink.”

-The two men displayed an intense, tender loyalty to one another throughout the war. Both stoutly defended the other in the press and to the second-guessers in Washington, and both were quick to defer to the other’s judgement. Sherman vouched for Grant in the early days of the war when Grant was trying to overcome a reputation as a drunk and a screwup. Grant, meanwhile, tactfully smoothed over a political storm created when Sherman negotiated overly-lenient surrender terms with the last large Confederate army (this flare-up was exacerbated by Lincoln’s assassination that same week). Working behind the scenes and travelling to North Carolina to amend the terms himself, Grant allowed his friend to save face and preserve his reputation. As Sherman himself said during the war in a letter to Grant, “I knew wherever I was that you thought of me, and that if I got in a tight place you would come if alive.”

-Shortly after the Battle of Shiloh, an aide to Sherman walked into the general’s tent to find him in a shirts-up tickle fight with Grant. When the two finally noticed the young man watching them, they hurriedly straightened themselves up and had the aide executed for treason.

Posted in Scholarly Reviews | 7 Comments