A Book Review

I recently finished reading a non-fiction book titled The Memory Code by Lynne Kelly. She begins her work with an observation about traditional non-literate cultures. While preparing to do research for a natural history book about animal behavior and indigenous stories, she became aware of the vast amount of memorized information possessed by native Australians. Their capacity to recall detailed knowledge about local animals including not just their identification but their behavior, favored living areas, and value to the local humans far dwarfed any knowledge she was able to get out of a book. Coupled with plant lore, the lay of the land, locations of vital watering holes, beliefs, customs, even genealogies, it was clear indigenous Australians must have some way of recalling and preserving this information without the advantage of books.

What they use are songlines, sung narratives tied to physical locations, weaving back and forth across the landscape, with rituals being performed at specific locations using dancing and singing to encode the information associated with that area and make it more memorable. Dr Kelly noted that the songlines were used in a fashion similar to that of the memory palaces used by ancient Greek orators to memorize their speeches.

This in turn led her to wonder if other early cultures also used similar methods to preserve oral wisdom. Could the ancient ruins of Stonehenge, the Carnac Megaliths, the Nasca Lines or even the giant stone heads on Rapa Nui (Easter Island) actually be complex memory spaces used by the peoples who built them? Her subsequent book The Memory Code explores this possibility, carefully examining the archeological evidence of the various sites. Her work is by far the most lucid explanation of why these impressive sites exist and why Neolithic people spent so much time and effort constructing them.

Forget space aliens or refugees from non-existent Atlantis, the reality behind these impressive works is much more mundane and yet at the same time more marvelous. The idea that early people were unsophisticated savages is blown out of the water by the revelation that they in fact possessed a rich body of knowledge which they had built up over thousands maybe even tens of thousands of years. Megalithic monuments like Stonehenge were raised as a way to organize this vast body of wisdom and create memory spaces to preserve this knowledge with as much fidelity as possible.

The ruins of Gobekli Tepe, thought by some to be the world’s first temple, date back to 11,000 years ago. Its elegant design with numerous carvings show that people of the time were already well practiced at creating memory spaces. Dr. Kelly speculates that Gobekli was built as the first large scale memory space. But it is more likely there were earlier ones, either not yet identified or perhaps plowed under by the last incursion of glaciers.

Dr. Kelly points out that many people holding onto their traditions still used memory spaces well within historical times and in some instances even today. The Songlines of the Australians, kivas used by Pueblo people, lukasa memory boards used by the Luba people in central Africa, and the Inkan khipu used by the Inkan Empire all show how widespread the practice is, even in the face of the literacy we take for granted.

Singing and dancing were critical ingredients in the creation of many memory spaces. Recent archeological work at British and European megaliths show signs of large ditches where Dr. Kelly speculates that ceremonies were conducted, taking advantage of the unusual acoustics the ditch would create. Music is as old as the human species itself and possibly even older. Some tantalizing evidence seems to suggest it served as a social glue that bonded human groups together, and ensured their survival even during the hardest times.

Coupled with the need to preserve knowledge, music and dancing became literally hard-wired into our brains. Is it any wonder teenagers insist on listening to music while they do homework? Is it really any surprise our brains are so vulnerable to earworms?

The Memory Code is well worth a read on a snowy winter evening for delving into these mysteries and coming away with a heightened respect for our far from simple ancestors.

Vintage Art

I have a fondness for vintage art work and own several clip art books from Dover Publications with a wide assortment of illustrations. They range from elegant to comical, all with their own special charm.

The above illustration is from one of the clip art books. I like to call it the amazing levitating mop for if you look closely, you will see the maid is not really holding onto it.

Recently on the blog site Ecosophia, the writer John Michael Greer complained about busybodies of every sort and put out a call to have the Order of Anti-Poke Noses revived. Apparently there actually was such an organization and one of its calling cards is shown above with a delightful vintage image of a ghastly harridan poking a long proboscis over a fence and sticking it into the business of a quietly courting couple.

Off and on over the years I also collected vintage postcards and advertising cards such as the following.

Balsam’s Hair Tonic promised you would not only gain a youthful appearance if you made use of their product but a happy family life as well.

The reverse of the card (a bit hard to read because it is shopworn) extols its virtues and also advertises an accompanying health tonic that will cure insomnia, dyspepsia, rheumatism, malaria (!), jaundice and a host of other ailments, all for a buck fifty. What a deal!

This is a postcard which doubles as a fortune telling card for single ladies. With lots of green color and four leaf clover images, how can you go wrong finding out who your future hubby might be? (Notice it assumes he will be a gentleman, though some of the choices of Circle III seem to be more for working class fellows.) Fortunately no one ever made use of it so it now occupies my collection.

I’m guessing this postcard falls under the humorous category, though the humor seems a bit dated to me, not surprising since it’s from the early twentieth century.

What lies behind the appeal of vintage images like these, or any vintage item for that matter? One line of thought seems to be that while some of it may be the inexpensiveness of second hand items, there may also be a psychological basis for it as well. It allows us to mentally connect with the past and serve as a source of comfort in unstable times. While I can’t say that is the reason I enjoy these images, they do harken back to a simpler time when things seemed a bit saner and much more human.

The little sketch I recently made of a ‘dippy hippie’ may not be quite vintage but does make me nostalgic for times now long gone. Will such times ever come again? I think so. Especially if you are willing make an effort to make it happen.

Peace.

There’s No Place Like Home

Several months ago we were treated to what had to be one of the more bizarre publicity stunts I’ve seen in a while. Elon Musk, business magnate (think billionaire) and owner of Tesla Inc launched his enormous new rocket, the Falcon Heavy as part of his recent endeavor for SpaceX, a company he created, to usher in the future among the stars (Mars in particular) that we’ve all been dreaming of.

As the payload for the test launch of this mammoth creation, Elon placed a cherry-red Tesla roadster complete with a space-suited mannequin at the wheel inside the capsule of the payload rocket and blasted it off to a presumed rendezvous with the planet Mars (or at least show he could get it out that far). Pundits lost no time in speculating whether this was a legitimate scientific effort or just a weird art statement by Mr. Musk.

Elon is of an older world outlook which envisions a Star Trekky universe where humanity zooms about the cosmos pursuing whatever destiny has in store for us. Part of this vision includes human colonies on Mars. He’s already stated we should have had a moon base by now and has begun calling for one (I’m guessing he’s going to offer his services in its construction.)

There are some significant problems with the blithe assumption that it is somehow predestined that humanity will launch itself from Earth as easily as it did from the sea shores where it launched its ocean borne vessels. As some of you have already noticed, the promise of flying cars, floating cities, faithful robot servants and other Jetson-like gimmicks have not quite come to fruition despite after fifty years of promises.

Money is a big factor. It just costs a hellacious amount of money to finance any of these amazing creations. The second law of thermodynamics puts more than a few constraints on our ability to even produce these visions of the future. But the modern day fascination with the concept of progress blinds us to the reasons many of us are still chugging along in a gas powered auto instead of flitting about high above in our flying cars. Tom Wessels in his book The Myth of Progress, discusses the numerous problems with this world view and why it is having a devastating impact on the environment and on ourselves.

Planting a working colony on Mars is fraught with issues. Since Mars has a very thin atmosphere, there’s nothing to shield against dangerous radiation both solar and cosmic so initially the colonies would have to be underground. To understand how problematic that is, we only need to take a look at the science outposts located in Antarctica.

Here is about the closest we can get on Earth to the situation on Mars. Even with breathable air and water fresh enough to drink (once you melt it first), life at the bottom of the world is grueling. Since Antarctica is not the balmiest place, everything must be brought in; food, medicine, equipment etc. Brutal weather conditions can keep researchers trapped at the stations for weeks, even months and cabin fever can produce strange mental symptoms.

Alcoholism and drug use is not unusual as a means of combatting boredom but it’s not the sort of thing you want to see on a bright shiny space colony. If you have a medical issue, you are really in a pickle. A few years back the news reported the frightening ordeal of a doctor stationed in Antarctica who discovered she had breast cancer and had to self-treat her condition before it became possible to airlift her out. Space enthusiasts might make the case that the Martian colony will be well supplied with all the necessaries of life. But how long will that take? Will such a colony ever really be self-sufficient? What happens if there’s a war back on Earth and the supply lines get cut off?

I am all in favor of space exploration while it’s still feasible to do so. But we need to be realistic. We’re not gods and must perpetually struggle with the physical restraints that the universe imposes on us. Robot proxies in the forms of Pioneer, Voyager, Cassini and others have given us marvelous pictures of what lies out there and will continue to do so without putting human life and sanity at risk. Mars may be a fascinating place to visit but nobody really wants to live there. As the character Dorothy Gale said at the ending of the Wizard of Oz, “There’s no place like home!”

Holidays

With the first day of spring looming I always think with amusement about the big holiday. No, not Christmas or Thanksgiving. I mean Groundhog’s Day. It’s more than a little mystifying as to why so much fuss is made about whether or not the woodchuck (…sorry, groundhog…) see his shadow or not. If you count off the number of weeks between February 2nd and the first day of spring , it’s always six weeks. So it doesn’t really matter if he’s got a shadow. The concept of Groundhog day originally came over with German immigrants. I don’t think it was even that big a deal to them but the whole thing got a shot in the arm when the movie starring Bill Murray premiered back in 1993. For whatever reason, holiday starved Americans latched onto the date and now we see men in dated costumes hauling out a bemused woodchuck to the flash of cameras and cheering onlookers.

There are plenty of other holidays both major and minor before the onset of spring. Valentine’s Day is always a big one with the heart themed candy landing on store shelves almost as soon as the Christmas sweets have been cleared away. It’s a safe bet the original Valentine, an ancient Christian saint would be aghast at the commercial hedonism associated with the holiday at one time dedicated to him. Nowadays its Christian origins have been forgotten. Instead we see shelves of greeting cards expressing romantic sentiments as well as boxes of chocolates and assorted gewgaws which get shuffled to the markdown table once February 14th has flown by.

Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday is another holiday celebrated with great abandon the day before Ash Wednesday which oddly enough this year fell on the same day as Valentines. Sometimes called Shrove Tuesday, it’s the last day before Lent and is a time of feasting and carnival (depending of the customs of the country celebrating) before beginning the solemn time of fasting and penance that characterizes Lent. If you watch the shenanigans in New Orleans you will witness wild floats, even wilder costumes and in some areas the ‘custom’ of tossing beaded necklaces to ‘ladies’ in the crowd who have bared certain portions of their anatomy. You’d never know there was a religious background to any of these festivities.

Then of course there is Saint Patrick’s Day. Officially a Christian feast day, it’s as much a celebration of Irish identity as it is the accomplishments of the saint it is named for. Thanks to the diaspora from Ireland back during the Great Famine it nearly became a national holiday with parades, sporting shamrocks and an emphasis on the color green that even involved pouring a vegetable based dye into the Chicago river to turn it the appropriate color for Saint Paddy’s Day. As with all other occasions that have fallen into the hands of the merchants a deluge of t-shirts, trinkets, etc has followed, none of which really has anything to do with the original holiday.

So why holidays? And more to the point how do we get away from the crass commercialism that seems to afflict both major and minor ones? It helps to recall why holidays existed in the first place. The word ‘holiday’ originates from any early English word meaning ‘holy day’. As implied it was a day set aside when no work was done and religious events (Christmas or Easter) were observed. Many religions besides Christianity have holidays. They all served the purpose of promoting social cohesion and allowing a break in the routine of daily life.

Now the meaning of holiday has become conflated with the idea of vacation. Vacation is something that arose with the Industrial Revolution when people began working at jobs that took them away from home and family. Prior to that, it was largely the wealthy that could go on trips or have leisure time. Work not only cut into family life but social life as well. Holidays were a means to counteract this, allowing the maintenance of these important human ties.

The commercialism surrounding the holidays can be easily counteracted by ignoring it. Save yourself some money and get back to the basics of why holidays are really important. It’s been pointed out that the traditions which go with the various holidays reinforce the values we deem important, provide role models for the young and help ground us. Traditions can be good medicine to counteract the chaos we see in the world around us. So decorate the tree for Christmas, shoot off fireworks on the Fourth of July or quietly visit a cemetery on Memorial Day while remembering why these various holidays exist.

Weird News

Now for something completely different. We humans are an incredibly inventive species. By that I don’t mean we’re great at devising new machines or developing abstruse scientific theories about the universe. I’m talking about our amazing talent for getting ourselves into all sorts of trouble. The Darwin Awards pay tribute to the ability of humans to remove themselves permanently from the gene pool in ways that leave us in profound awe and deeply grateful we didn’t do anything that dumb.

Of course the Darwin Awards only acknowledge those whose actions lead to their premature demise. There are of course numerous incidents of humans performing acts of remarkable blithering idiocy, abominable dumbness and just plain unadulterated mallet-headedness without getting themselves killed in the process. The vast majority of these incidents go mercifully unnoticed but a few manage to make it into the news and leave us scratching our heads in wonder.

First place in my book goes to a nameless individual who made his way into the local news a few decades ago. The event took place in the White Mountain National Forest, in the area known as the Kancamagus Highway. The main draw of this particular strip of highway is the spectacular display of foliage color which occurs in the fall, attracting many tourists to view nature’s beauty. There’s no distracting tourist traps or other eye-sore businesses to mar the scenery. There are a few rest stops for those who need to answer Nature’s call. They are rustic affairs, resembling cabins with toilets that don’t flush but empty instead into cesspits that are cleaned out by a company hired to handle these matters (nice work if you can get it…).

The particular incident I have in mind occurred when a family of tourists was driving through admiring the foliage when their teenage daughter indicated she had to ‘go’. They pulled into the next rest stop where the young lady went into the women’s facility. As she was preparing to make use of the toilet, she happened to look down into it when lo and behold she saw a man was down inside the cesspit looking back up at her. Those of you with teenage daughters can no doubt imagine the reaction this got. The New Hampshire State police were summoned (not local cops as this is a state park) and sure enough there was indeed a real live man down inside the cesspit.

Now, here’s the thing. In order to get him out, they had to call the business that cleans out the pit as the door leading into it was still locked from the outside. Which of course means there was only one way he could have gotten into the cesspit. Yes…

At any rate once the fellow was extracted from the cesspit, the question naturally arose as to why he was down there in the first place. His story went something like this (my apologies to anyone reading this who happens to be gay). He wanted to use the facilities but had heard those salacious stories about men of a certain gender preference who liked to use rest stops for their romantic trysts. Not wanting to be accosted, he retreated to the presumed safety of the ladies rest room. While changing his clothing, he inadvertently dropped his wedding ring down the toilet so there was nothing for it, he just had to go after it. That was his story.

There were several problems with his account. For one thing when the cesspit company did a search, no ring turned up. When the police did a background check on this fellow, not only did they find he was not married, they also found he was already very well known to the Maine police having been nabbed by them on numerous occasions as a habitual window peeper. So in reality our toilet diver was a sex offender (albeit a minor one). So off to jail he went.

The local New Hampshire WMUR news station (actually our only news station) reported at some length on this story, mainly obsessing about how incredible filthy he was when they got him out and how the police had to put plastic coverings in the squad car to protect the seats (I imagine it was a while before they got the car aired out…). Mostly the reporters seemed to be just plain gobsmacked that anyone would do something like this just to get a peek at naked rear ends.

A more recent story popped up in the news that very nearly edged this one out. That involved a lady from Colebrook New Hampshire who with the assistance of some exceptionally dim minions went out in the wee hours of the morning and dug up her father’s grave. Why did she do this? Well, she was searching for the ‘real will’ which she had come to believe was buried with him (along with a bottle of vodka). Happens all the time, right? Apparently she felt she didn’t get what she thought she should have gotten for an inheritance. So there just had to be a ‘real will’ somewhere and it must have been buried with dear old Dad. So that justified the night-time cemetery visit.

It did no good to insist she had done this in a ‘respectful manner’ and her dad would have been ‘ok’ with this. The New Hampshire court system didn’t see it that way and, no surprise, she was sent to prison. These hijinks didn’t quite have the icky-poo quality of the guy in the toilet story but it did achieve a very close second place. However, the toilet diver may yet be shoved into second place as the grave-digging daughter has since gotten herself in trouble again.  As it looks as if the story hasn’t fully played itself out, she may yet outdo herself and win top billing for weird news. Until someone comes along and tops even her….(and someone always will….)


Oh…My…God……

“The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits.” – Albert Einstein