Recommended Reads, 44th in a Quarterly Series

 

Books I've read lately that I would recommend:

Concrete Rose; The Hate U Give; On the Come Up (Thomas). A trio of gripping reads from a brilliant young author.

Death at an Early Age: The Destruction of the Hearts and Minds of Negro Children in the Boston Public Schools (Kozol). Absolutely heart-breaking at times.

Ain’t I a Woman; Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black (hooks). I hadn't read any of her stuff until her untimely death so am catching up.

Animal, Vegetable, Junk: A History of Food, from Sustainable to Suicidal (Bittman). An incredible sweep through history through the lens of what we eat.

A Philadelphia Education: Tales, Trials, and Tribulations of a Serial Careerist (Goldsmith). Following our "Forrest Gump" through the twists and turns of Philly life.

The Myth of Closure: Ambiguous Loss in a Time of Pandemic and Change (Boss). The pandemic has been a gut-wrenching frame for humanity's general struggle with grief and mourning.

 

 

Grace Abounds All the More

 

 

Who knew that a profile about a bankruptcy law expert in my alma mater's monthly magazine would be such a thunderbolt for me? I usually read the publication faithfully and without incident, but this article on David Skeel literally struck me.

The piece goes on at length about how Skeel's evangelical Christian faith informs his career work as well as the moral perspective by which he approaches it. I particularly appreciated this insight:

In the years since he and Stuntz articulated their Christian case for a minimally ambitious legal code, Skeel has continued to evangelize about the perils of legal moralism and symbolic religious legislation. He devoted a chapter of True Paradox—which was pitched at general readers, not legal scholars—to what he calls the “justice paradox.” It flows from two observations. Humans have long placed remarkable faith in the idea that the right system of law can produce a just social order. Yet from Hammurabi’s Code to Napoleon’s, and from Marxism to the libertarian system of laws inspired by John Stuart Mill, we have been disappointed over and over again. 

“Both parts of that pattern—the hubris about our capacity for justice and the failure that follows—are important,” Skeel wrote. The New Testament demonstrates this dynamic twice over, as first the Jewish authorities and then the Roman ones condemn Jesus on suspect grounds. “The hero of the Christian story was murdered by impressive legal systems, not transparently evil ones,” Skeel noted. “Lest we think that it is simply an accident that one system of law failed, the Jesus story shows that even two legal systems working together and potentially correcting one another cannot ensure a just outcome. The justice paradox lies at the very heart of the Christian story.”

What an insight! The origin story of original sin, applied to how we govern ourselves as communities and a nation.

I too desire to live out my faith in my workplace, career, and civic space. And what I believe informs how I think about politics and governance. But I connected with Skeel's insights most viscerally via my identity as a father.

I've long heard it joked that kids are a great example of original sin, in that most kids don't need to be taught how to do bad things. Closer to home and on a more serious note, what father or mother hasn't lamented as they watch their children, faced with two choices in which it is clear one has a happy and productive outcome and the other a sad and destructive one, choose the wrong way? I certainly have pain in my heart over all three of my kids, and I consider them to be really good kids.

How frustrating it is for us as a society to want to believe so much in the rule of law to maintain social order, and then to watch ourselves descend into chaos and ruin. How frustrating it is for us as parents to have it good enough that our kids have the opportunity to make good choices that lead to good situations, and yet watch them choose poorly instead and suffer the consequences of it. 

The origin story of the Christian faith is such that it must be maddening for a perfectly righteous God to set up literal paradise for His creation and then watch His creation choose otherwise. The fundamental precept of the Christian faith is that sin destroys and turning from sin gives life, and yet over and over again we reject life and choose destruction.

In the midst of all this dismay, I am reminded of the centrality of grace to this whole story. Absent grace there is no hope for our society, for our kids, and for our own salvation. What we call good news is that we are not absent grace. We can trade in hopelessness for hope. And we can trade in frustration, cynicism, and despair about keeping social order, about our kids living good lives, and about our own souls. Instead, we can be sober about how easy and natural it is to fall. And yet how wonderful that there is an unending source of grace when we fall. Good news indeed!

Too Short for a Blog Post, Too Long for a Tweet 336

 

 

Here are a few excerpts from a book I recently read, "How You Say It: Why We Judge Others by the Way They Talk—and the Costs of This Hidden Bias," by Katherine Kinzler.

 

 

DeGraff describes how people mistakenly think of a Creole language as a simplified version of a “real” language, and thus not worthy of respect. This belief about Creole languages is false—all languages are indeed real languages. Haitian Creole is a language like any other, capable of describing all the content of life and the world. 

It must be terribly disheartening to grow up while being discouraged from speaking your native language and being told that your language isn’t as real or as good as others: not suitable for a classroom environment. As children are taught that their language is subpar, they come to see themselves as subpar too. DeGraff speaks of visiting Haiti now, as an adult linguist, and watching children light up when they are allowed to learn in their native tongue. He recalls how a local teacher summed up the experience: “When we teach in Creole, the students ask more questions.”

The broad permissibility and routinization of accent bias makes students feel comfortable, and even obligated, to think about and comment on teachers’ accents. Imagine students writing “She may be of [XX race], but . . .” or “She may have a disability, but . . .” Such statements would be seen as a horrific demonstration of bias. Yet “She may have an accent, but . . .” remains a typical, everyday feature of teacher assessments. Such comments are considered fine, even when the foreign accent does not affect comprehension and when the accent may not even be real, but imagined.

Adding second-language instruction to elementary school curriculum would require resources—particularly for increasing the number of language teachers and making it possible for them to move to underserved areas. This budgetary necessity might be more palatable, and fit within a broader structure of educational planning, if we viewed language learning as a critical goal of education. Children do not need to learn only math and reading; they should also learn languages. Being proficient in more than one language should not just be icing on the cake—a rare treat for an occasional monolingual parent who invests in after-school language classes or for kids whose parents can afford private school. It should instead be seen as a basic right, and a life-broadening experience, for any child. American children should be prepared to interact with other peoples and cultures, to enjoy increased opportunities for employment in different sectors, and to strengthen their skills in executive control, perspective-taking, and communication by means of this relatively simple shift in educational priorities. Our society as a whole would benefit.

What Does It Mean to be Great

 

Although I've tried to significantly diversify my book list, the fact of the matter is I've read a lot of biographies of old white men. And, whether from recent times or centuries ago, an almost universal theme is that none of them had (or at least their biographers chose not to consider important to their life story) any major parental responsibilities. Sometimes it's the cheerful "loved and doted on their kids," and sometimes the kids are literally not even in the picture (shipped off to be raised by another family member, or they themselves are away from home for months on end). Either way, it's hard not to draw the conclusion that having a life great enough to warrant one or more biographies involves not having to also worry about day-to-day kid-related tasks.

Most modern dads have no such path. For some, the quest for greatness quite literally costs them their family life: divorce, estrangement, distance. For others, greatness is sacrificed, for a season or forever: sometimes with great lament, while other times it's good riddance to the pressure that comes with it, when compared with the greater desire to enjoy fatherhood.

Many of my work colleagues with career ambitions and involved jobs have life situations that don't involve major kid responsibilities. Many of my friends who are involved in their kids' lives don't have jobs that tax them beyond 9 to 5. And then there's folks like me, who want to be present for their children and for whom work is a calling and not just a paycheck. To choose this middle path involves sacrifice and long hours and compromise. 

But greatness demands far more. At the highest echelons of any craft, greatness involves a singular focus. Is that compatible with domestic responsibilities? Can you be biography-worthy while carrying a significant parenting load? Or is it true that, by definition, greatness doesn't allow room for that?

The easy answer is that greatness is far too costly to want to pursue. And most people leave it at that without losing sleep at night. Who wants to be great when it comes at the expense of so many things that make life enjoyable?

But I am left tossing and turning. Is there then no room for greatness, except among those who have streamlined everything else out of their lives? Is the world worse off if there are fewer great people among us, and none of them are devoted parents too? Am I personally willing to pay the cost to be great, and if I'm not then am I willing to not be great?

Some people have great ambition. Others are just narcissists. But for some of us, greatness is called upon us. A circumstance is thrust on us, an opportunity to make a difference, a pull from the divine if you believe in such things. If we choose not to step through the door, can we live with the lost opportunity? If we choose to step through the door, are we willing to pay the price that comes with it? Or can we do the hard thing and also do the big and small things that come with being a parent?

When the story of our generation is told, I hope there are some amazing biographies to read. And I sure as heck hope that some of them are of people who were truly great, and yet who also spent meaningful time being parents, and their biographers took care to record this and celebrate this. I just don't know if it's possible.

Food Budget in My Single Years

 

Apropos to absolutely nothing, I find myself reminiscing about my approach to food in the years immediate after college. Here's a post about all my spending habits back then, but let's dig deeper into a subset of one of those expenditure categories and take a closer look at how I fed myself on an entry-level not-for-profit job. You'll forgive if my memory fails on arcane details from almost 30 years ago, but honestly I kind of remember some of those details pretty well so I stand by the numbers below as not totally off.

Breakfast ($1.20 a day x 7 days)

* 2 yogurts w/granola: yogurt cups were 4 for a $1, and granola was probably $3 a box that lasted a couple of weeks = $0.70/day

* 1 banana: a bunch of 4-5 was like a dollar at the produce truck so call that $0.30/day

* OJ: a can of frozen concentrate was probably a dollar and change and could last all week so let's say $0.20/day

Weekday Lunch ($3 a day x 5 days; weekend was leftovers so see below)

* 2 turkey sandwiches: a $1 loaf of bread, $4 of lunch meat, and $3 of deli cheese a week (+ let's throw in some money for condiments) = $1.80/day

* 1 apple, 1 pear: 4-5 of each was like a dollar at the produce truck so call that $0.60/day

* I forget what snack I bought but let's call it a couple of $2 bags of pretzels a week so $0.60/day

 

Dinner ($4 a day x 7 days)

* Ground beef fried rice: $3 of ground beef a week + a $10 bag of rice that probably lasted 3 weeks = $1/day

* Stir fried veggies w/chicken breast: 4 or 5 $1 bags a week (mushrooms, peppers, carrots) plus maybe $4 of chicken a week and some random seasonings so let's say $1.50/day

* Salad: a $1 head of lettuce and a few dollar bags of basic veggies (tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots) was usually good for the week (I don't recall having salad every day) so call that $0.70/day

* A canister of $6 lemonade mix that probably lasted a good month so $0.20/day

* I think I probably went through a couple of $2 things of some really cheap Oreo knock-offs so let's call that $0.60/day

I don't remember a whole lot of snacks or dining out, but just to play it safe let's tack on $10 a week for a random box of cookies or cheap night out with friends, which brings out total to a little bit over $60 a week. As a point of comparison, fast forward to the present and according to my rough calculations our family of 5 is at about $12,000 a year or less than $50 a week per person. Amazing to think we spend less per head than I did in my thrifty bachelor days!

Therapeutic

 

Twenty some odd years ago I went to therapy for the first time. I won't share the catalysts, but suffice to say it was a rough time in my life and I was in need of emotional support beyond the good friends I've been blessed with through the years.

It ended up being a very small number of sessions. The therapist was, let's just say, pretty terrible. I probably would've been better off cutting things off after the very first session, but decided to do a few before calling it a day. 

Nevertheless, it felt really good to go to therapy. Independent of the content of the sessions themselves, the act of scheduling and attending them were good things for me to do, which made me feel like I was prioritizing my own wellness in ways that perhaps I had not previously.

Fast forward to the present and I am back in therapy. Again I won't share the catalysts, although please don't worry about me. I'm actually in a pretty good place emotionally. But I also have enough self-awareness to know that asking for help is a good thing, and that there are seasons when that extends beyond what you can ask of your family, friends, and colleagues.

Once again, just like before, the act of going to therapy feels good. But fortunately, unlike last time, my current therapist is great. In fact, he's hitting it out of the park: good listener, gives me room, asks probing questions, and knows when to interject his own explanations and frameworks. What an amazing combination: feeling good about making time for self-care, and then getting really good help in working through hard stuff. 

I will leave the details out but suffice to say that therapy has been therapeutic, for which I am feeling deeply grateful. If you have the opportunity and need for the same, I strongly encourage it. You are worth it, and there is no better time than now to put that into motion.

Too Short for a Blog Post, Too Long for a Tweet 335

 

Here is an excerpt from a comedy routine I recently watched, "The Bird Revelation," by Dave Chappelle.

Don’t forget what I am. I am a black dude. And don’t ever forget how I got here. My ancestors were kidnapped. I don’t even know where the f*ck I’m from. They were put on the bottom of boats. They sailed them across the Atlantic. Many of them died. Only the strongest survived. And once they got here, they beat the humanity out of my people. They turned us into beasts of burdens. They made us do their work, and the irony is, hundreds of years later they’re calling us lazy. We fought in the Civil War. We damn near freed ourselves. Then, with Reconstruction, black people did great. My great-grandfather was a very wealthy man. But then the Black Codes came, Jim Crow came, and it was a hundred years of unspeakable oppression again. Lynchings, all kinds of terroristic acts to keep us in the margins of society. Yet, we still fought. And Dr. King was born. And then, things got better. Twenty years after Dr. King was assassinated, Michael Jackson was moonwalking on television. Something, something, something. Barack Obama. [laughing] Donald Trump and… Now here we all are. 400-year nightmare.