Skip to content

Chiffarobe.

19-Mar-11

I can say that I actually heard the word “chiffarobe” used in Greenville, Mississippi, in natural conversation.

The Mississippi.

18-Mar-11

I drove up the Mississippi from New Orleans to Dallas City (Illinois) in two days, making stops in Vicksburg, Greenville, Clarksdale, Cairo, Hannibal, Carthage, and Nauvoo.  This brief taste has whetted my appetite to bike the whole river.  I had thought that such a trip might be boring: a river trip does not offer the kind of scenic variety a cross-country trip does.  I think otherwise now.  There is plenty of material: the health of the lower river, the runoff, and the dead zone in the Gulf; the hydrology and vitality of New Orleans; the old Plantations and the black/white divide along the lower river; the Delta Blues; Elvis in Memphis; then entering Mark Twain country in Arkansas and Missouri; Lewis and Clark and Jim and Huck at Cairo; the Mormons at Nauvoo; and north from there you enter placid and idyllic (and extremely beautiful) farm country in Wisconsin and Minnesota.  What the source looks like I don’t know but would like to find out.  And general questions about modern agriculture and urban development and race relations are in play all the way.

(Photo: sunset over the Mississippi from Cairo, Illinois, March 2011).

American Names.

18-Mar-11

Summons up the freshness of America and the Frontier: Marked Tree, Arkansas.

On the Road.

17-Mar-11


Abandoned farmhouse north of Hannibal, Missouri.

Traveling.

16-Mar-11

And mostly without internet.  A shame, because as always when you are on the road there is so much that could be recorded.  I’m writing this from Clarksdale, one of the Delta Blues hotspots.  I’ve long dreamed of traveling through here, and it’s happening, though like most things it’s happening too fast.  This is excellent bike country and should really be seen on a bike.

Some Son House for flavor.

In Greenville, Mississippi.

16-Mar-11

I camped out in the Delta National Forest last night, and took breakfast in Greenville.  A group of eight or nine older white folks was sitting around a big table in the center of a Main-Street diner.  One reported that a “black man’s head” had just been found by the police, the second murder in the area recently.  (I do not know if this is true at all, but that is what he said).  That sparked the following conversation, highlights of which I recorded:

“It was a black head?”

“That keeps up we’ll be at fifty-fifty in this town, and maybe we’ll get somewhere.”

“The White Man wanted them to do his work for him, and we’ve been havin’ to deal with them ever since.  We almost got rid of them in ’27, but Mr. Percy had to have someone to pick his cotton.” [For more information on this comment read Rising Tide.]

“You see the difference with the way the Japanese do things with the tsunami?  You just see them all waiting in line, or helping each other?  And compare that to the looting in New Orleans.  They’re much more civilized than we are over there.”

“Well, they don’t have to deal with African-Americans.” [I found it interesting that this speaker always said “African Americans.”]

“I heard that God put the black man on Earth to teach the white man patience.”

“It ain’t workin’!”

“I know, they just make your blood pressure go up!”

“I’m just amazed at how they could be so stupid.”

“Most of ’em don’t even know who their own father is.”

“That ain’t gonna change.”

I don’t think any of these thoughts are very unusual, but hearing them expressed aloud in public is.  One thing about race in the South which is so striking is that many things which are suppressed and avoided in the North are expressed here.

Bibles and Evangelicals.

01-Mar-11

I’ve written recently about the need to destroy Biblical literalism; and here is an obituary of one minister who worked on precisely this.  The reporting appears to be unaware of the actual issues involved, but Gomes’ words themselves are salutary:

“The Bible alone is the most dangerous thing I can think of,” he told The Los Angeles Times. “You need an ongoing context and a community of interpretation to keep the Bible current and to keep yourself honest. Forget the thought that the Bible is an absolute pronouncement.”

But Mr. Gomes also defended the Bible from critics on the left who called it corrupt because passages had been used to oppress people. “The Bible isn’t a single book, it isn’t a single historical or philosophical or theological treatise,” he told The Seattle Gay News in 1996. “It has 66 books in it. It is a library.”

Catholics would note that there were 73 books in it for a good thousand years until Protestants started whittling the number down a bit, but that’s just another example of its mutability.

On a related note, Sullivan notes a study of Evangelical Christians’ budget-cut priorities.  As usual with budgets, there is little consensus: only one item in the budget could so much as half of Evangelicals agree to cut.  That was “aid to the world’s poor.”  The general principle is to stand the Magnificat on its head.  “The rich he hath filled with good things, the poor he hath sent empty away.”  Sullivan’s summary:

Christianists favor the biggest cuts in spending on the poor and unemployed and the smallest cuts in the military-industrial complex. Now you know a little why I find using the term “Christian” to describe this political ideology a little difficult.

One of the Great Revolutionary Poems.

01-Mar-11

Pushkin’s “Message to Siberia,” translated by Max Eastman:

Deep in the Siberian mine,
Keep your patience proud;
The bitter toil shall not be lost,
The rebel thought unbowed.
The sister of misfortune, Hope,
In the under-darkness dumb
Speaks joyful courage to your heart:
The day desired will come.
And love and friendship pour to you
Across the darkened doors,
Even as round your galley-beds
My free music pours.
The heavy-hanging chains will fall,
The walls will crumble at a word;
And Freedom greet you in the light,
And brothers give you back the sword.

The Embrace of Opposites.

24-Feb-11

I was speaking with a friend about Rudyard Kipling, who is to most of the people I know (as to me) more of a familiar name than a familiar author.  When I explained that his most famous work was probably The Jungle Book, and explained that it contained animal tales often told to children, my friend replied, “There’s no way I would know it then.  I hate animal stories.”

I have now decades of experience with the fact that our aesthetic judgements vary widely, and I consider myself quite jaded on this score by now, but I was taken aback nevertheless.  I expect quality in any story, but well-executed animal fables such as you find in Aesop strike me as worthy and difficult literary creations, requiring a neat combination of wisdom and simplicity.  This is not to say that other people cannot hate them; I was merely naive in imagining that no one did.

I thought for a moment to say the following: “What about Dame Pertilote in Chaucer?  How can you not like that, the chickens in the barnyard quoting Boethius to each other?”  But I held my tongue before I said it, because I realized that the person I was speaking with would not at all be impressed by the humor of chickens talking Boethius, because she took no interest in Boethius either.  She was not dumb: she was just uninterested in Boethius, the way I am uninterested in modern novels.

As I sat there considering this, I thought that it actually made sense: that the sort of person who took an interest in Boethius would be precisely the kind of person who would read children’s fables in middle age, and take a delight in the most primitive kind of storytelling.  The extremity and artificiality of really caring to investigate the religious and philosophical thoughts of Boethius, a man fifteen hundred years dead, because some other men, also long dead, considered him an excellent thinker, creates the need for a counterbalance, some kind of childishness and simplicity.  Dumb dancing is a better counterbalance, but fables, because they come printed on a page, almost make the tendency reputable.  One of the most completely intellectual people I have ever known loved fishing, “Because,” as he said, “it’s really dumb.”

This appears to be a rule.  The existence of one quality will bring about its opposite.  The most brilliant people are ipso facto the dumbest.  The greatest moral rectitude will produce the most contorted evil.  The brighter the light the darker the shadow.

This makes Chaucer’s work in the Nun’s Priest’s Tale – of Lord Chanticleer and Dame Pertilote – all the more impressive.  The entire tale is a love-embrace of opposites – complexio oppositorum – a widow’s barnyard where Troy and Hector and Joseph and Pharaoh and Boethius and Macrobius (Macrobius!) all live.  It is a picture of the intellectual’s contradictory mind.

New York City.

21-Feb-11

Forest Park, Queens.  February 2011.