March 10, 11, 12: God Save the King, Anger, Coronavirus

Merton gets in an argument . . .

In the hotel at Lucerne, John Paul and I nearly came to blows (Bonnemaman being on John Paul's side) over the question as to whether the English had stolen the tune of God Save the King from My Country 'Tis of Thee or whether the Americans had cribbed My Country 'Tis of Thee from God Sae the King.  By this time, since I was on Father's British passport, I considered myself English.

This little passage from The Seven Storey Mountain simply proves two things to me: 1)  people get angry and argue over the stupidest things, and 2) anger only makes people do and say things that they later regret.  I am at a point in my life where I have no energy for either argument or anger.  I simply won't accept them any more.  (Or I will TRY not to accept them.)

Since my last post, much has happened in the world, including a declaration of a worldwide pandemic of the coronavirus by the World Health Organization and the shutting down of practically all the universities in the state of Michigan (and around the country).  Yes, that's right folks.  I am now, and at least for the next three weeks, an online, distance-learning professor.  There's no arguing about that.  It's just simply happening.

Another thing there's no arguing about:  the coronavirus is causing a kind of mass hysteria in the United States.  Companies are price-gouging hand sanitizer and toilet paper (of all things!).  There's not a roll of TP to be found at our local Walmart right now.  Ditto, bottles of Purell and the like.  Go on Amazon, and most TP brands are currently out-of-stock.  Ditto, Purell. 

First, the coronavirus has nothing to do with gastrointestinal issues.  It's a respiratory infection.  Kleenex should be the paper product that is out-of-stock.  Second, the fact that large corporations are taking advantage of people at a time of heightened fears is disgraceful, but not surprising.  Big business will always take advantage of customers, given the opportunity.  Cant's argue with that.

Now, don't get me wrong.  Coronavirus is not something to be taken lightly.  It's serious business.  It was right to cancel all the major sporting events--basketball (NBA and NCAA), baseball (MLB), hockey (NHL), and the like.  Right now, the powers-the-be are attempting to control the spread of the virus, and thus reduce the threat of an uncontrolled outbreak.  That's smart.  Can't argue with that. 

However, in the cardiology office where I work, I spoke to patients today who were cancelling life-saving procedures because of the threat of coronavirus.  That makes no sense.  Heart problems can sort of kill people a lot faster than the coronavirus.  It feels as though people think we're going to go through another Spanish flu epidemic of 1918, which infected 500 million people worldwide and killed an estimated 20 to 50 million people.  Let me point out something that people seem to be missing:  IT WAS IN 1918!!  Medicine has sort of made a few advancements since then.

So, there's a lot of hysterical people out there, frightened out of their minds.  Fact.  There's nothing that anybody can do to calm people's anxieties.  That will come with time.  Fact.  It's not the end of the world.  It's a badly handled health crisis that will, eventually, be controlled.

Here's Saint Marty's wisdom for now: 

1. Calm the fuck down.
2. Wash your hands.  A lot.
3. If you are sick, stay home.
4. If you are really sick, go to the doctor.
5. Don't get angry.
6. Don't accept anger from anyone.
7. Don't argue with stupid people (it only raises your blood pressure).
8. Don't be a stupid person.

June 12: Independence of Computers, POF, Technology

The crew of the Heart of Gold are dealing with its new-and-improved computer . . .

Zaphod tapped impatiently on the hatch.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I think we might be better off with a slide rule."

"Right!" snapped the computer.  "Who said that?"

"Will you open up the exit hatch, please, computer?" said Zaphod, trying not to get angry.

"Not until whoever said that owns up," urged the computer, stamping a few synapses closed.

"Oh God," muttered Ford, slumped against a bulkhead.  He started to count to ten.  He was desperately worried that one day sentient life forms would forget how to do this.  Only by counting could humans demonstrate their independence of computers.

Yes, computers are wonderful things, when they are working exactly the way you want them to.  Sending e-mails.  Posting things to Facebook.  Allowing you to order a fountain pen for Father's Day.  Computers are great tools, when they are treated as tools.

However, technology can be very frustrating and insidious.  It can replace family dinner conversations and game nights (thank you Snapchat).  Cause small businesses to go out of business (thank you, Amazon).  Break up marriages (thank you POF).  In my life, I use computers on a daily basis, at work and home.  I enjoy my time on Blogger, typing these posts.  They allow me to clear my head, focus my ideas.  And I do scroll through Facebook during the day, even though nothing ever really changes.

This afternoon, I am heading to Calumet. Michigan, to do a performance at the Calumet Theatre tomorrow evening.  I am going to be depending on technology to keep me connected to my family--mostly my iPhone.  I am not going to get bored and go Amazon shopping in the middle of the night at the hotel.  Not going to order myself a pizza at 3 a.m.  (There isn't even a restaurant open in Calumet at that time.)

You're probably thinking right now, "What's his point?"  My point is this:  don't let technology overtake your life.  I have seen what kind of damage it can do firsthand.  It ain't pretty.  One of the best investments I made this spring was a backyard fire pit.  I purchased it in early May, and we have been using it every weekend, and sometimes during the week.  It has already made my family healthier.

You see, when we have a fire at night, electronics aren't the focus.  Phones stay in pockets.  I did not make up this rule.  It simply happens.  Instead of playing with iPhones, we play croquet and board games.  And EVERYONE has a good time, without once posting a picture of the fire on Facebook to prove to everyone else what a good time we're having.  It's been wonderful.

So, for the next day-and-a-half, I am going to be fairly disconnected from technology, except for an occasional cell phone call.  Calumet doesn't lend itself well to WiFi anyway.  This is your warning.  I will talk with you all in about a day or so.

Saint Marty is simply packing a good book to read for this trip.  (Books are these things that existed before kindles and allowed people to read in the car, house, airplane, bathroom, beach, campground, and church without the need of a power source.)

December 17: Christmas Dough, Christmas Concert, Christmas Prayer

"Just my Christmas dough.  For presents and all.  I haven't done any shopping at all yet."

That's Holden's sister, Phoebe, talking.  Holden has run out of spending money, and Phoebe is trying to give him her Christmas money.  She hasn't done any of her holiday shopping.  She only has eight dollars and eighty-five cents.

Funny thing, Phoebe has about as much money as I do this year to spend on Christmas.  I started my shopping this evening on Amazon.  I'm not a big fan of huge retailers, and I think Amazon is killing the independent booksellers.  However, when you're strapped for cash, you can't really beat Amazon and Walmart.  There's reasons why everything they sell is so cheap.  First, they don't pay their employees living wages.  Second, all their merchandise is made by seven-year-olds in sweatshops in China and Guam.  And, third, they're run by soulless millionaire and billionaire Republicans.

I started my Christmas shopping finally this evening.  I couldn't avoid it any longer.  My sister lives in Utah, so I have to plan a little ahead for her kids.  She has four boys and two girls.  Many years ago, I instituted the rule of buying only books for my nieces and nephews.  I got a little tired of the endless lists of gadgets and games and phones and computers and laptops.  Everyone knows now that Uncle Marty gives the written word for Christmas.

I went to my daughter's Christmas band concert tonight.  But it's not called a Christmas concert.  It's called a "Winter" concert, which is a load of crap.  Any concert in which I hear three different versions of  "Jolly Old Saint Nicholas" is a Christmas concert.  And the music filled me with the Christmas spirit enough to make me click onto Amazon when I got home.

Dear God,

I know that money and expensive presents aren't the reason for Christmas.  I know about sacrifice and humility and charity.  I know about giving unto the least of my brothers and sisters.  I learned all that stuff in religion class when I was a kid.

But there's so much that I can't do this year.  So much that I simply don't have the energy and spirit for.   I'm not dreaming of a white Christmas.  I'm not decking any halls.  I'm not singing with any choirs of angels.

And that's what I'm praying for tonight.  It's a Christmas prayer.  I want to experience a little joy this holiday season.  I'm not asking for a full-blown George Bailey moment.  I'll be satisfied with something simple, small.

A phone call from a friend.  A beautiful song on the radio.  A new job.  A multimillion-dollar lottery jackpot.

I'm not asking for much.

Your faithful servant,

Saint Marty

I don't really miss this...

December 17: Christmas Panic Attack

Tonight, I had my annual holiday panic attack.  I realized that I am one week away from Christmas Eve.  I ordered a ton of presents from Amazon and made a gift list.  I even checked it twice.  I am tired and ready for bed.

As I was putting on my pajamas a few minutes ago, my wife asked, "When are we going to take the Christmas picture of the kids?"  I looked at her and said, "Are you trying to kill me?"

Tomorrow is my daughter's Christmas band concert, and I don't know if she's going to be well enough to participate in it.  She has strep throat and the stomach flu.  I'm convinced I will eventually become ill.  Too many germs floating around not enough hand washing.  I don't even want to touch the TV remote.

Saint Marty needs some rubber gloves and a Valium.

Time to press it!