Denis LeHane's historical novel The Given Day covers a period of history I knew next-to-nothing about: the Boston police strike of 1919 . . . and he weaves in tales of race and baseball (Babe Ruth is a character!) and unions and anarchists and nationalism and radical political rhetoric, and there is also the backdrop of the Spanish influenza; it's a page turner written in his typical hard-boiled vivid style, but it's all hung on a framework of history that I had never been taught . . . the conflict of workers and the burgeoning unions versus the nationalistic anti-Bolshevik stance of the upper class; things get quite wild and it all ends with the impending Volstead Act and Prohibition . . . but there's a great scene in the days before the act is to go into effect, when everyone is drinking like mad, celebrating the end of a decade and the beginning of the Roaring Twenties-- this coincides when Babe Ruth is traded to the Yankees and the soldiers have returned from WWI . . . LeHane depicts a wild and literally explosive moment in history, with some entertaining characters to boot.
Even Yet More Also Tennis Notes
The first thing to note is that I shouldn't have four beers at the Grove and eat a bunch of pizza on Friday afternoon when I have to play tennis on Saturday morning at 7 AM, but I still held my own against Rey, who might be the best player in the league this year-- he beat me 8-6 but I was involved in every game . . . Rey has a variety of big serves-- a killer kick serve, a flat serve, and a spin serve-- and he nails them, so you've got to really punch it back deep; he can also hit winners from the baseline and doesn't have any real weak spots . . . which makes sense since he told me he plays six or seven days a week; I had some success going to the net but I need to keep my eye on the ball and not worry about where my opponent is and I need to hit the ball deeper every time with spin, until I can get closer to the net and punch something flat and low; I had some success with my two-hander by getting my hands down near my left thigh to start the swing and really firing my hips through but I still need to be more aggressive with my forehand, just let loose, keep my eye on it and hit it.
"Pops" Drains a Hook Shot
Yesterday, my older son Alex and I went to the Y to shoot some hoops and we ended up playing in a three-on-three game with some good players (one guy had played point guard for Brookdale Community College) and Alex was the youngest player-- but because he's grown so much and his arms are so long, he was able to hold his own-- and I was the oldest player by a long way, but (finally) my long range three-pointer started to fall and I was also able to utilize my hook shot a few times-- which is probably why they were calling me "Pops" . . . as in, "Nice shot, Pops" and "Did you used to play ball back in the day, Pops?" . . . and while when I was a teenager I never really imagined my life at age 51, I can't really complain too much (although I was pretty sore once we were through, we played for almost two hours . . . but if I start doing all these weird knee and foot exercises, maybe I'll be less sore after I play).
Yuck
I was excited to take Lola down to the park yesterday afternoon-- she loves to run around in the snow and it was unseasonably warm, but-- unfortunately-- the warmth brought the fucking geese back and they had managed to dig up some grass at the base of the sled hill, so they were camped out there, nibbling and shitting-- so that portion of the walk annoyed me: Lola ate some goose crap and I had to steer her around the poop field, around the bend and closer to the river . . . and then she was off leash and running around in the snow, having a blast (while I was walking backward in the deep snow, bulletproofing my knees) but then I noticed she had found something interesting in a plastic bag . . . and it was a rotisserie chicken and she was able to eat a wing before I got it out of her mouth . . . which made me wonder: who leaves a fucking rotisserie chicken in a bag by a bench in the snow in the park?
A New Direction?
So apparently-- in order to bulletproof my old knees-- I'm going to have walk backwards, while dragging a weighted sled-- and I'm down for this, so I'm going to try to assemble something in the next few days so I can get to it (I learned this from Ben Patrick, the knees-over-toes guy, on a recent episode of Joe Rogan).
Sports are Entertaining (to a point)
Yesterday was quite a day for sports: I got up at 5:00 AM to watch the epic Nadal/Medvedev Australian Open Match, but I had to interrupt my viewing to go play indoor soccer (I managed to avoid learning who won) and so I finished watching the match at 11:00 AM and then I took the dog on an epic snow hike through the park then watched some of the USA/Canada Men's soccer match -- the US team got scored on early-- and then I went on a strange bar crawl with Connell and Alec . . . we wanted to watch the Kansas City/Cincinnati game but there were no seats to be had at Hooters and no seats to be had at Arooga's, so we kept visiting bars but not drinking any beer, until we finally found a table at The Grove in Milltown-- everyone must have been stir crazy from the cold and COVID and the storm-- and we had some wings and met Rob and Dan and watched the US lose and the Bengals win (and we learned about the various Bengals cheers and found out that the lady at the table next to us was not a football fan but she found it interesting that everyone was cheering for her . . . because her last name was Bengals) and then I returned home and put on the Rams/49ers game for a bit . . . and then I shut it off and went and read my book, because that was enough sports for one day.
Nadal Hangs Tough Down Under
I played indoor soccer for 90 minutes this morning and my Fitbit registered just under 11,000 steps (4.8 miles) which is the perfect amount of exercise for an old man-- and this made me wonder how many steps Medvedev and Nadal clocked in their five hours and twenty-four-minute epic battle in Australia . . . and I also wonder how sore Nadal's knees will be tomorrow.
Station Eleven on a Wintry Day is Best
Watching Station Eleven during a blustery snow day is a treat-- when you go out to shovel snow and clean off the cars and walk the dog in the park and then are able to come back inside to a warm house, you can really appreciate how good you have it, especially when Jeevan gets mauled by a wolf in the snow and nearly freezes to death (and wakes up with an amputated leg in a housewares store populated by pregnant women who are all going to give birth on the same day and they think he's a doctor) and I highly recommend watching this show in any weather (although winter is best) and you should also read the novel; the show is episodic and unstuck in time, which allows for weird and artsy moments and lots of characters who you will never meet again, and it is beautifully filmed and acted, a real treat-- it lives up to the motto: survival is insufficient.
Sam Harris is Funny?
Joe Rogan seems to be taking a lot of flak from the media right now, and when you talk for three or four hours with someone, there's always an odd quotation to cherry-pick and vilify . . . but the weirdest moment so far in his new episode with Jordan Peterson the only thing that I found off-base is that they both claimed fellow podcaster Sam Harris is very funny and could be a stand-up comedian.
Yan Can Cook (and So Can Dave)
I thought I disliked cooking but it turns out I like to cook if the rest of the family goes to the gym and I can drink, etc. and listen to whatever music I want (at whatever volume I want) and have over two hours to prepare a simple meal (tacos) and then I like cooking.
Two Good Podcasts
I didn't really explain yesterday's post title (Dave Eschews the Metaverse) but basically, I listened to this podcast and decided that I want to do things in the regular universe as much as possible (and avoid doing anything in the metaverse) but then I listened to this podcast and remembered that there's plenty of fucked up shit going on in the regular universe as well.
Dave Eschews the Metaverse
Even More Tennis Notes
I played Bud today in the tennis league and beat him fairly handily (although it was 2-2 at the start, I won 11-5 and went ahead 9-3 at one point) but I never had a very good rhythm in the match: Bud is a hard-hitting flat-ball player so it's really hard to get into a groove-- I couldn't hit my two-handed backhand at all . . . I didn't have time to set up and instead had to use a slashing cut shot, which I tried to hit deep or angled and often I was just trying to get my forehand back-- he puts a ton of pace on the ball but also hits a bunch of unforced errors-- I hit a few winners, as I've been working on hitting it low when I approach the net (and I should have gotten to the net more, I definitely had success there) but, unfortunately, the best strategy against a guy like this is to play like a pusher, which is annoying, but it works-- Bud has a big serve, which I really just tried to get back-- we were on the singles only court, which is weird and I hit a few serves out of the side net (which drove Bud crazy . . . he couldn't believe I fished them out of there) and basically I just got the ball back until he hit a winner or made an error . . . I was serving okay to the ad side, but I was all screwed up serving to the deuce side, by toss wasn't falling into the court and I was losing balance and toppling to my left (which Bud kindly pointed out to me) but this makes three wins in a row, which isn't easy in this league . . . we'll see if the streak will continue (but I'm certainly no Amy Schneider).
Thought Leader or Public Intellectual? You Be The Judge
My friend and colleague Liz showed me an intriguing video this morning and it was perfect for class: we've been reading an excerpt by Anand Giridharadas about the decline of public intellectuals and the ascendance of thought leaders, especially in the world of corporate conferences and TED talks . . . but this guy Reggie Watts might be the post-modern hybrid that destroys the dichotomy.
Lessons from The Extended Mind
I recently listened to Ezra Klein interview Annie Murphy Paul and her ideas were so inspirational and invigorating that I read her new book The Extended Mind: The Power of Thinking Outside the Brain; here are a few of the many lessons about thinking, learning, and our brains that she develops and supports with copious scientific research;
1) we often use misguided metaphors to describe our brain-- it's not a muscle that grows stronger with exercise (Lumosity does not work) nor is it a computer that works the same in any environment . . . we are more like magpies, building from whatever is available in our environment;
2) we learn better when we are moving, not when we are still . . . as Thoreau said, "methinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow" and we need to incorporate this idea into the classroom and the office;
3) whenever possible, it's good to offload information into the world-- smart people don't memorize everything, nor do they work "in their head," as Richard Feynman points out in the book-- the writing the math down IS the work . . . we should put as much information as we can into writing and charts and gestures and other people;
4) we need to make data into something real in order to understand it, into an artifact-- we need to make the abstract into something concrete;
5) it is good to alter our physical state before, during and after learning-- this helps us remember and it helps us create;
6) we need to reembody complex ideas-- argue about them, teach them, and speak about them in real time . . . when a teacher lectures the class, emphatically gesturing, asking pertinent questions, and directing all dialogue, the person learning the most about the subject IS the teacher-- learners need to to do these things;
7) you remember things better when they are associated with props, places, and memory palaces;
8) groups need to possess bonds and "groupiness" to function-- they can't be arbitrary and they don't work like a "hive mind" . . . groups work best when different people are expert in different disciplines and can combine and pool knowledge;
9) physical space is really important to how much work gets done-- open offices don't work all that well, people need a mix of a place to call their own, an area that is social, and an area where they can complain-- and complaining to peers really helps with productivity-- it allows lots of problems to get ironed out;
10) a lot of these lessons are things that make sense, but teachers and bosses forget when deadlines loom-- learners need to teach what they want to remember, discuss it, debate it, move around with, contextualize it, etcetera . . . and our brains are VERY dependent on surroundings-- you can have all the grit you want, but if you don't have the time, space, people, and variety of movement and extensions to think properly, you are going to struggle to learn . . . this means learning takes more time, it doesn't work very well over a screen, and it can be more fun and compelling at every level of learning; this is a great book and I highly recommend it for educators everywhere.
Congrats, Dave!
Congratulations are in order: I walked into the English Office this morning and was greeted by a four-pack of incredibly tempting cupcakes from House of Cupcakes and I spent the day trying NOT to eat them, and-- miraculously-- I did not eat them (including a long stretch during my lunch period when they were within an arm's reach and I had to exert some iron willpower because I was eating, of all things, the exact opposite of a cupcake: beet salad).
Mystery Solved!
My wife complained about how close the Mazda was parked to the house . . . but upon reflection, she realized that SHE PARKED IT THERE.
Book of Mormon . . . Finally!
My wife and I finally saw The Book of Mormon-- the tickets were a fiftieth birthday present but then the pandemic hit, so I took us nearly two years to see the show-- and despite the weather, we covered a lot of ground in the city yesterday; we took the train in and then walked down to the Rubin Museum, which is chock-full of Indian, Himalayan, Tibetan and Bhutanese religious art . . . it's an aesthetically pleasing meditative multi-story space (unless some lady doesn't read the directions and bangs the water-gong with all her strength, instead of gently tapping it, which knocked me right the fuck out of my hypnotic state) and then we walked back uptown and it was COLD so we stopped for a drink at Hellcat Annie's Tap Room-- a cozy pub with an excellent selection of local beers-- and so I broke the rule I had made earlier in the day and had two beers-- I wasn't going to drink any beer because I didn't want to have to pee or feel bloated once I was stuffed into one of the narrow Broadway theater seats but it was early; then we made our way up to Tacuba Cantina Mexicana, and we had a fantastic meal-- I hard chorizo and octopus tacos and some Mezcal de Leyandas-- both delicious-- and then we went to The Book of Mormon and our seats were good and unobstructed (some douchebag a couple rows over wore his lumpy ski-hat the entire play . . . I can't believe the person behind him didn't let him have it) and the play was ridiculously funny and --surprise! . . . set in Uganda?-- and featured a chubby young Mormon missionary that is pretty much a nicer and more sincere version South Park's Cartman brought to life . . . and while the play might not be totally accurate about Mormonism, it's not totally accurate about anything-- it's just profane and funny-- I'm glad I knew nothing about it, I was often surprised and always laughing and when the play let out, we knew if we wanted to catch the fast train, the 9:56 PM, we would have to book it down to Penn Station, which we did, despite the snow, slush and rain and we made the fast train, got out 20,000 steps-- which always seems to happen when you go to NYC-- and, bonus, Alex picked us up from the train station and we were home before 11 PM . . . which is pretty amazing, to see a 7:00 PM play on 49th Street and be back in Highland Park less than four hours later.
Longmire Does Philly?
In the third Longmire novel, Kindness Goes Unpunished, Craig Johnson inserts Sheriff Longmire, Henry Standing Bear, and Dog into Vic Moretti's world-- downtown Philadelphia; the usual violence, debilitating injuries, and Western-style detective work ensue-- with a healthy dose of Native American lore and trickery-- and, despite the urban setting, there will be some horses.
The Usual Saturday Tennis Notes
I beat my buddy Cob 12-3 today in the 7 AM Tennis League for the Insane, Obsessive and Otherwise Mentally Ill and here are my notes, reflections, and takeaways:
1) I was a bit nervous because my wife and I finally ate at Tasty Moment, a crowded and authentic Chinese place featuring Szechuan, Nanjing, and Yangzhou Chinese food . . . and the spicy crawfish with noodles was SPICY and the peppercorn fish was delicious but had an odd spice to it that made your lips numb . . . so i was a bit worried this morning that I might have intestinal issues during the early morning match, but I was ok;
2) I chewed gum the entire match, even though the racquet club prohibits this;
3) it was the first time I ever played on Court 7, which is in the far corner and has no doubles lines-- that's visually a little weird but I actually think I liked it-- less distraction from green areas you CAN'T hit into;
4) I really focused on hitting shots from deep on the baseline 3-6 feet over the net with lots of topspin . . . and I focused on hitting shallower shots when I was moving forward LOW . . . hit it high when you are deep and hit it low when you are moving in is a basic strategy that really helps me;
5) Cob and I had some epically long rallies-- 30 or 40 shots?-- and i was really patient and kept hitting the ball crosscourt over the low part of the net . . . it seems the most common error at this level is trying to go down the line off cross court shots and hitting the net-- you can go down the line when the ball is up the middle, but if it's crosscourt, be defensive and hit it diagonal and deep;
6) I actually starting pointing my elbow, whipping my arm and pronating-- so I hit some solid flat serves (and even a few on the T aces . . . which I need to do more often)
7) I didn't get to the net enough . . . although Cob hit a few beautiful lobs when I did . . . I finished an overhead or two but I'm still not sure how much I should be getting to the net;
8) I was hitting my two-handed backhand fairly well-- deep and with some topspin, but I'm not sure how much my wrists should be involved in the stroke-- I need to keep experimenting;
9) the key to my forehand is the left hand, it has to come back with the racquet and I need to catch the racquet with my left hand on the follow through . . . this ensures that I get a good turn (but not too much of a turn-- it helps to keep the racquet on the same side of your body on the pull back and follow through) and that and I need to always get a wide base and drive through it.