"Other than dying, I think puberty is probably about as rough as it gets." Rick Springfield

          Before puberty I had a good life.  I read books, played with my chemistry set and microscope (I was a bit of a geek and proud of it), hunted cottontails with my single-shot .22, and searched for Native-American arrowheads on my grandparent’s place (it was legal then; not now).  I was happy.  My Dad would give me chores to do, but I endured them.  I had control over my life – my thoughts.  I led a moral life.

          Then puberty hit and life went to hell.  I started noticing those creatures with long hair.  Sometimes I couldn’t stop thinking about them.  I was no longer in control of my thoughts.  The devil took over.  It became much more difficult to lead a moral life.

          After a couple of embarrassing incidents in my sleep – which I didn’t understand – my mother gave me a paperback book with a title similar to “Your Changing Body (for Boys).”  I read it and knew I was doomed.  It wouldn’t get better – only worse.  I wondered if a similar book was written for girls?  The library didn't have a copy. At least that's what the librarian said when I asked for a book about girl's bodies.

          I gave in and decided to go with the flow.  I started getting hair on my face.  I needed a razor and to start shaving – at least once every two weeks or so.  Shick (or was it Gillete?) offered three models of a safety razor, “light,” “medium,” and “heavy.”  The choice was the hardest of my adult life.  “Light” seemed to be a denial of my machismo.  Hell, I was a man, now.  I could father children.  “Medium” seemed terribly wishy-washy and I sure didn’t need “heavy.”  I tried to think of an analogous choice for young ladies, but after an intimate discussion with my wife (use your imagination) decided there was none.

          And because of hormonal changes I started getting migraines.  Nothing was the same.  I suffered.

          But somehow I survived.  I now sport a shaped (gray) beard.  I shave parts of the hair on my face to achieve the shape.  I use a “light” safety razor.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"It is quality rather than quantity that matters." Lucius Annaeus Seneca

I admit that health articles that promise me an extended life turn me off. I’ve had too many friends and family that have had a longer life in a deplorable condition. Why would I want to do that? I would much rather have my remaining years as a time I enjoy rather than twice that many years doing things I don’t enjoy. Is the purpose of life just to live or to enjoy?

I could eliminate from my life, red meat and wine and maybe live a bit longer, but, gheez, I’m old already. If I can’t enjoy life now, with a huge medium grilled steak and a bottle of cabernet, why did I go to the gym for those many years? A piece of gooseberry pie à la mode, of course, would follow and perhaps chips and salsa with a beer later.

I don’t think the course of the end of our life can be predicted and I sure don’t believe it is determined by our life habits. We could do everything healthy and still be bed-ridden for a couple of years – cancer, or what have you.. The same thing could happen if we were a complete reprobate, and ignored all health advice. Likewise we could die suddenly of a heart attack or stroke whether we worked out daily in the gym or not. The timing in life would probably be different. I do believe that the length of our life can be influenced but not the length or conditions of our death. If medical science could guarantee me a quick death if I did xyz, I’d buy in. But the most they can offer me – and I believe them – is a longer life if I do abc. But they are mute as to whether or not I’d enjoy the extra time.

I’ve had heart problems all of my life. If I had been born a century before, I’d have never made it beyond puberty. I’ve had open-heart surgery and a valve replaced. What I have in life now is a miracle and a gift. Should I squander it by doing things (e.g.exercise) that I detest when I could be sampling a new vintage of chardonnay? I’m always shocked when I read an obituary of a healthy person – age 45 – who died unexpectedly of a heart attack. I’ve always expected a heart attack and yet am still alive.

I would advocate that our culture gives each of us, at the time we retire (say), a pill. That pill could be used whenever we deem that life no longer offers us enjoyment – and would painlessly kill us by self administration but only if it is accompanied by a pill rendered by a mental health professional whose sole responsibility is to determine if we are rationally capable of making such a choice. I’ve seen too many people I care about, lie in a bed wishing they could escape. Life no longer has any rewards for them.

They no longer follow college football.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

" I'm a big sports fan. College football is my favorite." Verne Troyer

(Reader alert:  some sports allusions made that may be opaque to a non-fan.)

Why do people become sports fans?  Why did my mother – in the middle of New Mexico – in the 1950’s rabidly root for the Brooklyn Dodgers in their perennial World Series match up with the Yankees?  During that time you’d’ve thought Pee Wee Reese was her son.

My Dad was a boxing fan and listened to every heavyweight championship bout and the Indy 500 every year.  All on AM radio, of course.

The first sports team I remember rooting for was Southern Methodist University when they were in the 1956 NCAA basketball tournament.  I thought, in my youthful innocence, that I was a Methodist at the time.  (My I-want-her-to-be-my-girl-friend went to the Methodist Church.)  I also remember following the minor league team, the Albuquerque Dukes – but without much commitment.  Never went to a game.  They were the closest professional team of any sort.

I think our allegiance to a sports team stems from a need from our hunter-gatherer heritage.  We want to belong - be a part of a tribe.  Share the spoils of victory.  It’s completely irrational, of course.

I got sucked in big time into becoming a sports fan when I started going to Southern Cal.  That time was their heyday in college football.   John McKay, O.J. Simpson and the list goes on.  I claim it was impossible to be on that campus at that time and not become a fan.  The damned Bruins and Irish became the mortal enemies.  A couple of the football players took the physics lab course I was responsible for as a teaching assistant.  They always came well prepared because they wanted to get to training as soon as possible.   I memorized the words, “Fight on for ol’ SC…” and started worshipping white horses – something a Methodist would never do.

In my mature years I’ve noticed that I will follow local teams – but only if they’re doing well - and not with the same ferocity as when I was younger.  I lived in Chicago when the Bears won it all.  The sports program at South Carolina has had some recent successes.  They’ve won the NCAA baseball tournament and have a very competitive football team.

Other sporting events can easily attract my attention.  Wimbleton, The Master’s, Olympic Curling  (I know, I know),…  When I lived in England, I started following – God forbid – soccer and cricket.

Not that I'm anxious or anything like that, But the Trojans first game is August 30 – 97 days, 6 hours, and 31 minutes away.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"If you're bored with life - you don't get up every morning with a burning desire to do things - you don't have enough goals." Lou Holtz

          Before retirement, goals are not usually hard to find.  Life and the job have a generous supply.  Raise the kids.  Meet the sales forecasts.  Prepare the fall’s seminar schedule, etc. 

Even the process of retirement has it’s own set of built in goals.  Find a place to retire.  Review your financial strategy.  Take a world cruise.  Plan the transition.  Maybe build a new house or remodel the old one – do some landscaping, plant a garden.

          But then all of that is done.  You’ve accomplished all of the goals you identified on your retirement day.  Each day you get up and it’s pretty much the same as the others.  (Except for Mondays when you have to wheel the garbage container to the curb to be picked up.)  You find yourself often asking the question, “What day is this?”

          What are reasonable retirement goals – after you’ve been retired for a while?  Your health and your energy level may have declined a bit.  Your hearing and eyesight are deteriorating.  Options are fading.

          Maybe this is one benefit of golf.  A reasonable eternal goal for a golfer is to take two strokes off of their average, whatever it may be.  Indeed that may the entire purpose of golf – not as a method to exercise, but to supply goals.  That would explain the golf carts.

         Are goals essential to a happy retirement? The longer I’m retired the more think they are. This blog provides goals for me. Think up a topic for a new post. Write that post. Answer the extremely insightful comments made by the readers.  Read other similar blogs.  The world would not end if none of that happened, but it fills time and it’s easy for me to convince myself it has more meaning than playing online poker.  

Perhaps not.

It’s not Monday is it?

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"Baseball is like church. Many attend few understand." Leo Durocher

Are you amazed as I am about the varieties of religions and churches?  Why so many?  You’d think an omnipotent God would have given us at least one thing, a faith, that we could all agree with.  Think of the lives saved if there had been no holy wars, no jihads, or no pogroms.  Even within one religion - let alone religion against religion - one has factions murdering each other – Protestants against Catholics, Sunnis versus Shiites, etc.

Why are people attracted to a particular religion or faction?  There must be a variety of reasons.  Some must truly believe in the tenets offered.  But, I suspect that most attend a particular church because they find kindred souls.  They like the people they find.  If you are a fundamentalist and a literalist you’re not likely to feel comfortable in a group of freethinkers and vice versa.  So most often, it’s not the religious beliefs that attract you but rather the type of people those beliefs attract.  Can personality differences be discerned between – say – Baptists and Presbyterians?  Are the popular stereotypes real?

Mind you, most of our religious being is shaped by the happenstance of where we are born.  You’re much more likely to be a Christian if you’re born in Kansas than in Iraq.  We like to delude ourselves by thinking we have a free will about such matters, but in reality, most of it is preordained.  Given the randomness in our religious beliefs would a fair God or Allah condemn someone for being born in the wrong place?

The greatest danger from religion are those who believe that have found the one true religion for all humankind and try to convince you of the righteousness of that finding.  There is no kind way to dispute them.

There has been some science talk about the existence of a “religion” gene – something in our DNA that predisposes us to have religious feelings.  I don’t know if it is fact or not, but I can understand why evolution would favor such a gene.  If one believes that a higher power exists and much of life is a trial, one might try harder to find food or run faster to escape the saber-toothed tiger and thus have a greater chance of survival than the non-believer.

Most religious folks that I know aren’t fair.  They give their God all the credit for the good things that happen but never any blame for the bad things.  “God works in mysterious ways.”  - as if every evil has an ulterior beneficial purpose that we mere humans can’t understand.

For me, I have but one religious belief.  If there is a higher power or there is a purpose to our universe, I believe that it is so sophisticated that we are incapable of understanding it much like a dog can’t understand algebra.  Our brains aren’t equipped to fathom matters at that level.

Do I believe in God?  For me, God is the answer to the question, “Where did the universe come from?”  God is the original cause, but has no characteristics beyond that, that I'm capable of understanding.   
I’m sure that this is the one true religion for all humankind and is a righteousness finding.  Don’t you agree?

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"I've tried to meditate, but it's really hard for me to stay still. I'd like to try to force myself to do it, because everybody says how wonderful meditation is for you, but I can't shut my mind up." Ellen DeGeneres

          It was comforting to find Ellen DeGeneres’ words.  I thought I was the only one with this reaction.  When I talk about meditation I feel lacking because I’m not sure what it is or if I’ve tried it.  In the harshest terms it seems as if it a fancy name for an inactivity an uncreative mind invented to be lazy and not feel guilty about it.   Maybe that’s a tad too harsh.

      Proponents of meditation cite scientific studies purporting to prove the health benefits of meditation.  When I ask about the “control group”, often I’m met with a blank stare.  I explain, “Did they compare the findings from the meditating group with a group who merely rested, thought vigorously, and didn’t meditate?”  My implication is that, of course, rest is the most likely contributor to the increased health.  I thereby become part of a conspiracy to debunk meditation.  Why a group would want to do that, I’m not sure.

I hate to be bored.  Being bored is a waste of your mind and of time.  A problem I have with walking (for the incognoscenti, a mild form of exercise involving leg motion, which nevertheless makes you feel old) is that I get bored.  How much thought can you give to the sights you see – especially the third or fourth time you encounter them?  I think it’s impossible to meditate and not be colossally bored.

But there are people who proclaim meditation as the answer to all of their personal problems and have made an academic study of different forms, different mantras, and different techniques.  It must be easier for some people to lose their minds.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"Whenever you're faced with an explanation of what's going on in Washington, the choice between incompetence and conspiracy, always choose incompetence." Charles Krauthammer

 There are 10 types of people in the world: those that understand binary and those that don’t.  There are 2 types of people in the world: those that believe conspiracy theories and those that don’t.  The polarization between believing and not believing in conspiracies probably isn’t a binary either-or but it is pretty stark in my experience.  Seems as if someone who believes in one conspiracy is more likely to believe in another.  I wonder why?  Is it a need to explain all of the evil and bad luck in the world?  “Surely the world can’t be this way.  A secret cabal did it!”   “I would’ve been a success except for the very powerful group that was against me.”

In one breath, a person can complain about the mindless bureaucratic buffoons running the government and in the next speak of the intricate conspiracy of thousands of those same people involved in a cover up – documents altered, records deleted, lies generated, secrets kept.

It is very difficult for two people to keep a confidentiality.  I dare say it is impossible for even ten.  Someone always wants the honor of being the one to spill the beans.  Go down in history as the one who revealed the truth. 

If a group of executives of a large corporation have a meeting and plan a product launch.  Is it a conspiracy if they agree to keep that plan a secret?  Or is it just good business sense?  Likewise if some product of theirs gets some bad publicity and they have a meeting to plan on how to deal with the press to minimize the harm done to their company, their stockholders and their customers are they fulfilling their fiduciary obligation or participating in a conspiracy?

A problem I have with conspiracies is that they can never be disproved.  If data is proffered to refute the conspiracy, the person offering the evidence is automatically part of the conspiracy.  Conspiracies just grow bigger and bigger.

I don’t in general believe in conspiracies, but I’m on the track of the group (established writers and Internet insiders) that is preventing this blog from having the anticipated and deserved 2000 followers.  I’m getting close.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"To forget one's ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without a root." ~ Chinese Porverb

I go through most hobbies like many people go through toilet paper.  Some hobbies do endure and reappear ever so often but with me the average lifetime of a hobby is six months.  My family has become very familiar with this personal trait so when I make out my Christmas list, they check the date to see if it’s been six months or not.  “Is he still interested in THAT book?” – sort of thing.

One of my enduring hobbies has been genealogy.  I got started before the Internet, when I got transferred to the Washington DC area (home of the National Archives and Library of Congress).  I had been told a few vague stories about my ancestry by my Grandmother, but I was compelled to learn more about why was I the way I was?  My wife – bless her heart – spent many a weekend with me not only in the facilities in Washington DC but also in distant county court houses in Virginia researching the wanttabe stone mason’s apprenticeship  papers to my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.  (True story).

In genealogy you discover among your ancestry, true American heroes of which a great deal is written and scoundrels of whom very little (usually) is written.  Of course, I know from which side the majority of my genes came from.

In talking with other seniors who have done genealogy, I’m surprised how many of my ancestors have been in America for a relatively – (pun intended) – long time.  My latest arrival was my great-grandfather in 1882 (he was a scoundrel).  Some senior’s ancestors have not yet arrived.  

Each generation back, of course, doubles the number of ancestors you have (unless you come from the Appalachians) so the chances of finding someone famous gets larger.

I love the mysteries that you discover – or possibility create.  “What happened to Amanda?”  She left with Daniel as they emmigrated from North Carolina to Texas in 1868 but doesn’t appear in the next 1870 census.  Daniel is then listed alone with his three daughters.

The resolution of those mysteries though is a great satisfaction.  (Amanda died of consumption in 1869)

The increasing predominance of the Internet however is changing this hobby.  The new information is contained on paper among legal documents in a remote county court house or in a written memoir in a village library and can’t be retrieved by the click of a mouse.  Too many people think they are doing genealogy by copying what others have discovered.  But I’m a grumpy old man.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"There cannot be good living where there is no good drinking." Benjamin Franklin

When you retire you have more time for booze.  Hell, you have more time for everything, but booze is what we want to talk about here.  Now just because you have time for booze doesn’t mean that you imbibe more.  You may not imbibe at all.  Or you may start at 9:00AM and not stop until 9:00 the next morning.

The scope of attitudes about alcohol is truly broad and sincere.  Some despise it as a tool of the devil and others see it as a godsend that enables them to deal with the cards dealt to them – and cheaper than therapy.  Most of us are in the middle.

I like wine – perhaps a bit more than I should.  I have a glass or two every day - maybe a bit more.  OK, if there’s any left in the bottle, I’ll finish it off.  That’s why I only buy the small bottles and not the jugs or the boxes.  I’m very good about not opening the next bottle after I’ve finished the first.  I also never drive after my wine.  It would be horrible to cause a death of another because my abilities were impaired, so I don’t tempt fate.

Hard liquor – whiskey, vodka, gin – I scarcely touch at all.  I may have a martini once or year or so and that’s the truth.  Beer I have more of.  After pulling one or two weeds from the yard on a hot summer’s day, there’s nothing better than a beer but my drink of choice in a social situation or drinking alone is wine.  A dozen weeds generally require a six-pack.

One can make an entire religion out of wine.  Vineyards, varieties, vintages – the whole gambit.  Which wine goes best with steamed Amur sturgeon?  And there’s the whole new snobbish vocabulary – fruity with hints of pomegranate, a tannic veneer, a lingering aftertaste with caramel aromas, and so on.  There are magazines devoted to wine and one can sink their entire IRA, no matter how big, into constructing a climate controlled wine cellar.  The religion of wine can take over even if you only sniff the corks and don’t drink.

A spiritual experience for me – hence seldom indulged – is sitting in front of a fireplace with a warm fire, listening to popular music of my era and drinking wine.  If my wife is there, so much the better but she doesn’t have to be.  I can get very nostalgic – maudlin even.  I stare at the fire and listen to “Save the Last Dance for Me.”  A Riesling with a hint of pomegranate and an aromatic caramel aftertaste is best for this purpose.

My personality changes some after my wine.  I become more loquacious and am extremely witty.  I can say things that really make people laugh.  Sometimes I don’t even have to say anything for people to laugh at me.  But that’s really the only thing about me that changes – more talkative.  I don’t get weepy or pugnacious.  I do lose some tact.  I’m apt to say things that are on my mind that I wouldn’t before the wine.  I realize this and make extra effort to hold my tongue.  In truth though, I don’t know if I’m being more honest and true to myself after the wine or before.  That’s the only impact that wine has on my life.  There aren’t more deleterious results so by all of the self-administered tests for alcoholism I seem to be clean.  From blood tests my liver is functioning formally.   Let’s drink to that!

Each of us is different so your relationship with booze is probably very different than mine.  Part of that relationship could be a genetic response that you can’t control.  I’d like to think that if booze was a problem in my life I’d seek help, but I’ve seen some very wise and wonderful people who couldn’t make that step.  They have a pride which first impedes them from admitting a problem and second, if they recognize they have a problem, encourages them to believe they can handle it on their own.  Some of us were raised to be self-sufficient and not seek help and that gets in the way.  Booze can be a disaster not of our own making.  Take care not to fill all of that extra time by emptying bottles.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"A life lived without regrets is a life not lived." Unknown

        In searching for the above quote, I discovered that I may be alone in having regrets about my life.  I regret some of the things I did and some of the things I didn’t do – opportunities missed.  Some seem to believe that if you have regrets it’s a defect in your life.  Nay, say I.  Regrets are a sign of limits tested or of your humanity.  You were tempted and yielded.  Or you were too dumb to recognize a door opening and didn’t walk through.

            In reviewing my life - which I’m apt to do after a couple of glasses of pinot noir – I recognize how factors beyond my control governed and influenced decisions, I made.  One is, of course, responsible for one’s actions.  Could a society function if not? However the political and religious predilections, cultural values, etc., of one’s parents have an inescapable and subliminal impact on your life.  If your father was a strong assertive unforgiving type, you’re likely to cower before authority figures and thus not be considered for a promotion. If you are raised without sisters, women will always be more puzzling than the guy with a sister who dominates the bathroom.

                So – since no upbringing is perfect – you’ll have imperfections in your person which lead to regrettable actions or inaction.  Regrets are a natural part of life.


©2014 Lester C. Welch

"All of the animals except for man know that the principle business of life is to enjoy it." Samuel Butler

            The relationship between pets and humans is an enigma for me.  We’re the only species that have pets.  A lion doesn’t keep an antelope for a pet – he eats it.  Virtually any animal - armadillos, tarantulas - it seems is a candidate to be a pet. Why do we do have pets?  They’re a financial burden.  They consume time.

            I suspect that we have pets to satisfy a psychological need to have something dependent on us.  In a pet’s eyes we’re god.  We give comfort and food.  It’s a need we all have – to be god.

            I’ve heard it said that a dog is a good pet because it gives you an excuse to walk.  Of course, you have to carry a poop bag, but they’re generally pretty light - at least when they’re empty.

                But walking is a form of exercise and – as I’ve already explained exercise makes you feel old.  Maybe that’s the appeal of cats – you don’t have to walk them thus they don’t make you feel old.  But they also have the attribute that they will never consider you a god.  Cats are just made that way.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"Do what thy manhood bids thee do, from none but self expect applause" Sir Richard Francis Burton

    I’ve noticed that there are deleterious tendencies that emerge or become more prominent as one matures.  I’m not talking about myself here, of course, but in others.  As they sit around, in their newly found spare time, they reminisce.  This is always dangerous.  In this post I want to address the apparent need of some to validate their life.  I’m not talking about myself here either, of course, but others.  They do this by remembering events that they deem to have revealed their intelligence, insight, bravery, competency, awareness, cleverness, skills, astuteness, and adroitness among many other positive attributes.  As you socialize with them by sharing a meal of organic pabulum, they tell stories – sometimes more than once.  In these stories they are always the hero.  “And then I….”   

At the end of the story (which never comes soon enough) they pause and look expectedly at you.  I find it really hard to give the socially accepted verbal applause.  “Wow, you really handled that well.  It’s amazing that you were able to find that solution. A show of true genius and ought to be in the history books.”   I fear that such a response will encourage more such stories.

People want applause for what they have done.  They want to believe that they have accomplished something with their lives and it wasn’t just wasted.  In fact, we all know that most of such applause is perfunctory and the only applause that has merit is that which silently comes from within that you give yourself.  You know all of the facts and can be the only unbiased judge.

So rather than giving the expected retort, I’ve developed a far more effective tactic.  I recall an event that reveals my intelligence, insight, bravery, competency, awareness, cleverness, skills, astuteness, and adroitness among many other positive attributes.  Unbelievably they often seem bored by such stories.  Perhaps I’ve told them before.

© 2014 Lester C. Welch

"When we lose twenty pounds... we may be losing the twenty best pounds we have! We may be losing the pounds that contain our genius, our humanity, our love and honesty." Woody Allen

           It’s hard to write about diets because there is no uniformity of experience.  Each of us elderly folk seems to have a unique dietary requirement and meet it in different ways.  We all love to talk about our various digestive troubles and punctuate our soliloquy with body sounds to prove our point.  Talking about diets also fills the void left by the abhorrence of discussing politics and religion.

            I am convinced that metabolisms do vary greatly.  I’ve known persons who if they ate a 5 oz. candy bar would gain 2 lbs. Others could eat a small horse and lose a size in their waistline.  Some have medical problems that cannot be denied - diabetes, ulcers, heartburn, involuntary chronic peptic disgorgement and others.

            Diets raise their ugly heads whenever you have a meal out to socialize with friends.  Everyone has a diet that must be catered for.  You usually go to a place that offers a menu with high-fiber, low-carbohydrate, no-sugar, lactose-free, glutenless, open-range vegetarian fare.  There aren’t many such places so we don’t go out often.

            I’m lucky in that my digestive system seems normal – most of the time.  In fact, I usually ignore it.   I can eat what I want, when I want, and it is difficult for me to gain weight.  I usually skip breakfast – a habit formed in college when another ten minutes of sleep in the morning was more desirable than a plate of greasy scrambled eggs.  If the mood hits me, I eat a small lunch but have a full dinner and snack until bedtime.  After I fall asleep I stop eating.

            I make use of my normality by purposefully showing off when I do go out for a meal with aged friends.  I’ll order a thick juicy steak and oily onion rings topped with a heap of whipped cream.  I have to tip the waiter well. Dessert is usually apple pie with chili sauce – the latter an archeological remnant of my New Mexico heritage.  I avoid salads. My friends frequently have bean sprouts and haggis with their pabulum.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

"Grandchildren don't make a man feel old; it's the knowledge that he's married to a grandmother." G. Norman Collie

                        My grandchildren came as a surprise to me.  I never thought I’d have any.  The reason, which I’ll not inflict upon you, is very innocent and boring.  There’s a different bond between you and your grandchildren than the one with your children.  Usually you’re older when you have your grandchildren than your children and I think that plays a significant role.  When you have your children you’re actively creating a career – building your life.  Your grandchildren come when most of that is behind you.  I didn’t have grandchildren until I had retired so all of my life building was behind me.  Your children come when you have lots of other interests.  Your grandchildren come when you have no other interests of significance.

       Grandkids are evidence of both your mortality and your immortality.  Their youth, vigor and curiosity remind you of how much about life you take for granted.  I watched my granddaughter, who had just learned to crawl, try to pick up a spot on the carpet where a narrow sunbeam hit.  Her outreached hand often interrupted the beam and then the spot was no longer on the carpet.  She explored this phenomenon for a few minutes.   There is so much about the world we have to learn and grandkids illustrate this.  It’s refreshing.

            When my first grandchild was born, I wanted her to have a perfect life – no injuries, no illnesses, and no disappointments.  She should achieve all of her life goals.  In thinking about my attitude, I wondered if such an existence would really be a life.  Are not the lost struggles, the heartaches, an essential part of having a full life?  If it were easy to do anything would you value any accomplishment?  Part of life is having some rain so you can appreciate the sunshine.

            Grandkids also reflect your immortality.  They would not exist if you hadn’t existed.  A quarter of their DNA is yours to be passed on into the future and shape the world.  If one were to look at the population, say, six generations ago, I suspect that if one of a vast majority of that population were not to have lived, our world today would be different than we know it.  Each life is a ripple in the pool of humanity.  Each life is analogous to the butterfly in chaos theory.  The world is the sum of all of us.

            A spiritual event of enormous magnitude is to hold a descendent as an infant in your arms - your child or their child.  They’re completely helpless and their only communication is to cry.  That’s it. And yet we adults are equipped with sufficient instincts to render aid.  I hope that as I age and get to the point where all I can do is to cry, that they’ll return the favor.  Change my diaper, whatever.

            I normally carry around about 867 photos of my grandkids which I am quite willing to share with, say, people at a neighboring table in a restaurant.  However, the creation of web based social networking has allowed me to significantly increase the number of people who benefit from viewing, not mere hundreds but thousands of photos of these perfect creatures – my grandkids.

©2014 Lester C. Welch

“It takes something more than intelligence to act intelligently.” Fyodor Dostoyevsky,

Intelligence – whatever the hell that is – seems to play a big role in life’s journey. But intelligence depends on many parameters.  If you’re striving to be a leader of a street gang of thugs you need a different type of intelligence than if your goal is to become the department head of a university.  The people you need to impress in each group respond to different stimuli.  You have to be ruthless with the professors whereas you can get some compassion and understanding from the thugs.

Supposedly, IQ tests measure intelligence, but they have generated controversy.  There are claims that they have a cultural bias – a claim not far from the dichotomy illustrated in the first paragraph.  But to continue this post let’s assume that we have an agreed upon understanding of what intelligence is.  We may not be able to define it but we recognize it when we see it.

I believe there are at least three elements of intelligence.  One – and perhaps the most important – is the ability to logically follow a line of thought, e.g., proving a theorem in mathematics.  The second significant factor is ability to memorize, e.g., learn the vocabulary of a foreign language.    The third element has some impact on intelligence but in a different way than the first two – creativity.  Most professions require at least two of the three.  A physician needs to be able to think logically to diagnose a malady and he/she also needs the ability to memorize the names of all those medicines, diseases, organs, nerves, hormones, bones, medical instruments and procedures.  But a doctor doesn’t need to be especially creative unless he/she is involved in medical research.  In fact, creativity may be a hindrance in treating patients.  The patient wants something tried and true that’s going to solve their involuntary chronic peptic disgorgement.  Painting the patient’s fingernails with cinnamon and having him/her rub their tummy counterclockwise is very creative but probably ain’t going to do the trick.  Even the placebo effect has limitations.

A professional musician has to have (together with talent) the ability to memorize and to be creative.  At the highest levels they have to memorize huge amounts of music and are often judged on their personal interpretation – their creativity.  If they compose, creativity is essential.  But the ability to be logical plays a much more minor role.  There’s a blurry line about the memorization function in music.  Some speak as if the brain doesn’t do the memorization but the “muscles” do.  I’ve tried to learn to play a musical instrument – any musical intrument - and have failed miserably.  I came closest with the triangle but there’s not much music written for solo triangle.  I have to think about each note – “This finger goes here.  That string gets plucked.  Push that valve quickly three times.”  You get the idea.  A musician doesn’t do that.  They let their fingers do the walking – or whatever.  It’s like using a computer keyboard.  If you have to think about it, you’ve failed.

A linguist has to be able to memorize vast amounts of vocabulary but they don’t have to be terribly creative or logical unless they are involved in research.   In addition to failing at learning a musical instrument I’ve also failed at learning a new language.  I’m terrible at it.  I’ve always made the excuse that my problem was centered around all of the grammatical exceptions and flimsiness of the rules.  How could anyone know when to use “estar” and when to use “ser?”  Why have the three words “die”, der”, and “das?”  So I, confidently, decided to learn Esperanto – which is the most successful artificial language (except for FORTRAN) and has NO grammatical exceptions.  In fact regularity is taken to an extreme.  All verbs end in “i” and are conjugated exactly alike.  All nouns end in “o” and so on with the other parts of speech.  A fantastic and logical approach.  I eagerly anticipated going to Esperanto conventions and conversing adroitly with other citizens of the world.  And then…  Even if you learn the grammatical rules – not all that hard – you have to learn the words.  Logic or creativity is no help – you have to memorize and memorize and memorize…

So I’ve discovered one of my shortcomings – I have very little ability to memorize.  I should’ve realized this in the fourth grade when it took me two weeks to learn each week’s spelling words.

The truly great people have all three – logical thought, creativity, and the ability to memorize.  I think the ability to memorize gets short shrift on IQ tests and yet is hugely important in many professions.  I took a test once to join the CIA  (I can’t tell you if I was hired or not.  It’s classified.) and the test did tax memorization skills.  It was done in a clever way.  Read a paragraph, go to different topics, and five pages later ask about the paragraph “What did Joe tell John?”

Some people lack the ability to follow a logical path.  This is the underlying cause of our political system being the way it is.  The only requirement to be a politician is to be creative.   They have to have a story for everything.  Logic has nothing to do with it.

©2014 Lester C. Welch