July 1: What a Fish, Holiday Weekend, Liberty

The fish takes Santiago's bait . . . 

"He can't have gone," he said. "Christ knows he can't have gone. He's making a turn. Maybe he has been hooked before and he remembers something of it."

Then he felt the gentle touch on the line and he was happy.

"It was only his turn," he said. "He'll take it."

He was happy feeling the gentle pulling and then he felt something hard and unbelievably heavy. It was the weight of the fish and he let the line slip down, down, down, unrolling off the first of the two reserve coils. As it went down, slipping lightly through the old man's fingers, he still could feel the great weight, though the pressure of his thumb and finger were almost imperceptible.

"What a fish," he said. "He has it sideways in his mouth now and he is moving off with it."

What a day.

Full of sun and warmth and sky.  As I sat working in my office, I watched the sunlight track through the trees and over the Methodist church across the street as the hours passed.  When I got to the library at 8 a.m., it was about 59 degrees.  When I left, it was in the low 70s.

Today begins a long holiday weekend in the United States.  Independence Day.  July 4th.  It's when the citizens of my country are supposed to celebrate the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776.  That's the document, written by Thomas Jefferson, that begins, in part, with this sentence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness . . . 

Certain unalienable rights.  Life.  Liberty.  The pursuit of Happiness.  The way I understand these words, Jefferson is saying that everyone deserves to live a life of freedom and happiness.  The United States Constitution, ratified a little over 11 years later, begins with these words:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Again, the Blessings of Liberty are guaranteed, not only to the dead white guys who wrote the Constitution, but to their children and children's children and children's children's children.  You get the idea.  Each and every citizen of the United States is guaranteed the Blessings of Liberty.  Including women, who now make up 50.52% of the nation's population.  Now, it's been a long time since I've taken a math class, but, by my calculations, that means that men make up 49.48% of the country.  

That means that men are in the minority.

I'm going to be playing the organ at three different church services this weekend (one Catholic, two Lutheran).  There is going to be the normal array of quasi-religious/patriotic hymns sung.  "America the Beautiful" and "Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory."  This morning, someone suggested that we sing "The Star Spangled Banner" at one of those church services.  I made a joke, saying that only Whitney Houston could hit the high notes.  When the issue was pressed further, I replied a little more directly:  "I prefer not to."

I live in a country right now where the majority of its citizens have had their freedoms taken away by the highest court in the land.  I'm not seeing a whole lot of the Blessings of Liberty and unalienable rights these days.  In fact, it seems to me that those rights have become alienable, at least for people with vaginas.

The reason that I'm able to express myself like this is that I am guaranteed freedom of speech.  I can say and write whatever I want without fear of imprisonment.  I can be as offensive as I want to be, as long as I don't cross the line into hate speech.  Thank you, dead white guys.  If you don't like what you're reading right now, move along.

I won't be playing "The Star Spangled Banner" this weekend.  Won't be singing it, either.  Instead, I will offer up prayers for the females in my life.  And for my friends and family who are LGTBQ+.  Because they have very clearly received the message that they are not part of "We the People" who deserve "Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness."  

Think about that while you're barbecuing your hot dogs and hamburgers this weekend.  While you're watching parades and fireworks.  And remember this quote from Lutheran pastor Martin Niemoller about Nazi Germany:

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out--because I was not a communist;

Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out--because I was not a socialist;

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out--because I was not a trade unionist;

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out--because I was not a Jew;

Then they came for me--and there was no one left to speak out for me.

Just a reminder of the price of lost freedom.  We all need to speak out.  Now.

Saint Marty wishes everyone reading these words Life, Liberty, and Happiness this Independence Day weekend.

May 2: What a Fish, End of Semester, Ivory Tower

Santiago sleeps and becomes a hero . . . 

He was asleep when the boy looked in the door in the morning. It was blowing so hard that the drifting-boats would not be going out and the boy had slept late and then come to the old man's shack as he had come each morning. The boy saw that the old man was breathing and then he saw the old man's hands and he started to cry. He went out very quietly to go to bring some coffee and all the way down the road he was crying.

Many fishermen were around the skiff looking at what was lashed beside it and one was in the water, his trousers rolled up, measuring the skeleton with a length of line.

The boy did not go down. He had been there before and one of the fishermen was looking after the skiff for him.

"How is he?" one of the fishermen shouted.

"Sleeping," the boy called. He did not care that they saw him crying. "Let no one disturb him."

"He was eighteen feet from nose to tail," the fisherman who was measuring him called.

"I believe it," the boy said.

He went into the Terrace and asked for a can of coffee.

"Hot and with plenty of milk and sugar in it."

"Anything more?"

"No. Afterwards I will see what he can eat."

"What a fish it was," the proprietor said. "There has never been such a fish. Those were two fine fish you took yesterday too."

"Damn my fish," the boy said and he started to cry again.

"Do you want a drink of any kind?" the proprietor asked.

"No," the boy said. "Tell them not to bother Santiago. I'll be back."

"Tell him how sorry I am."

"Thanks," the boy said.

The end of semester grading is in sight.  I have one more set of exams and papers to finish.  I don't think students realize the amount of work that goes into these last days of the semester.  While they're out celebrating, professors are chained to their laptops.  Full-time professors work hard.  Contingent professors (who often have second and third jobs to pay the bills) work even harder.  That may not be a popular opinion in academia, but it's true.  There's an ivory tower, and adjuncts and contingents are in the dungeon.

Saint Marty's koan for tonight:  sometimes, it is the size of the fish that matters.