Posts

Showing posts from September, 2015

Originality

The children themselves often have a touching faith in the novelty of their oral acquisitions. Of the rhyme, 
House to let, apply within / Lady turned out for drinking gin,
which we have collected from twenty-four places in the British Isles, also from South Africa, Australia, and the United States, and which was recorded as traditional in 1892 (G.F. Northall, English Folk-Rhymes, p. 306) an Alton girl remarked: ‘Here’s one you won’t know because it’s only just made up.’ Of the couplet, 
Mrs. Mason broke a basin / How much did it cost? 
lines which are the recollection of a counting-out formula recorded in 1883 (G.F. Jackson, Shropshire Folk-lore, p. 573), a Birmingham child vouched the newness because it was ‘named after a teacher’s wife’. Children are, in fact, prone to claim the authorship of a verse when they have done no more than alter a word in it, for instance substitute a familiar name for a name unknown to them; and they tend to be passionately loyal to the presumed genius of a classmate, or of a child who has just left their school, who is credited with the invention of each newly heard composition. The unromantic truth, however, is that children do not ‘go on inventing games out of their heads all the time’, as Norman Douglas believed; for the type of person who is a preserver is rarely also creative, and the street child is every bit as conservative as was George VI with his lifelong preference for the hymns he sang in the choir at Dartmouth. The nearest the normal child gets to creativeness is when he stumbles on a rhyme, as we have overheard: an 8-year-old, playing in some mud, suddenly chanted ‘Stuck in the muck, stuck in the muck’, whereupon his playmates took up the refrain, ‘Stuck in the muck, stuck in the muck’. A 10-year-old added:
It’s a duck, it’s a duck, / Stuck in the muck, stuck in the muck,
and the group echoed this too, and went on chanting it, spasmodically, with apparent satisfaction, for above an hour, so that it seemed certain that we were in at the birth of a new oral rhyme. But when we asked them about it a week later they did not know what we were talking about. The fact is that even a nonsense verse must have some art and rhythm in it if it is to obtain a hold on a child’s mind, although exactly what the quality is which gives some verses immortality is difficult to discover.

Mr. Quiring

A note about Mr. Quiring, one of my high school teachers: a gracious, inspiring human being.

More quixoticism

So … my dissertation is coming along. I aim to complete it this spring. (Have I said this yet?)

I might apply to do another graduate degree, in history. MA to start out with; PhD if I really enjoy it. The topic: Latin American constitutions. My goal is to pile up so much knowledge as to become un-unhirable.

My emotions aren’t as frenzied as they were eleven years ago, when I was applying to philosophy PhD programs; still, I’m preparing as diligently as I can, reading books about Latin American legal history. This time I’ll have a better idea of the demands.

I’ve been writing to various historians, gauging their enthusiasm for me. Most of them haven’t replied. I did get a nice email from somebody at the University of New Mexico. I have fond memories of New Mexico, of the day I was in Albuquerque. Everything there was the color of dirt, except for the railings on the interstate, which were salmon-colored. I really did like it in New Mexico.

Karin: “New Mexico sounds lovely.”

JP: “New Mexico is the color of dirt.”

We look at the photos on Wikipedia.

Karin: “Ooooh, New Mexico really is the color of dirt.”

I wrote to somebody at the University of British Columbia, what with my fond memories of Vancouver. That historian hasn’t replied.

My sense is that most U.S. and Canadian Latin Americanists don’t spend a lot of time analyzing constitutions. (They might read old criminal cases, or whatever.) My pie-in-the-sky historian’s dream would be to edit something worthy of being included among the Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought. There are entries in that series by Gottfried Leibniz, by the Radical Reformers, by Walter Bagehot. Why is there nothing from my own continent? Latin Americans have said interesting things about race, about citizenship, about state-building.

What’s more, they’ve actually tried out lots of governments.

Why I am not a hipster


I understand a part of this. After all, my family did honor a dead mouse.

On the other hand … I really don’t think this is very nice.

More salt mines

I’m working at IUSB. No one is coming in to be tutored. I hope it stays that way.

Between work shifts, I’ve been going over to Karin’s apartment to play with Jasper, the adorable cat.


Jasper and I have an understanding.


Oh, snap, someone just came in to be tutored.

I tutored him. It took ten minutes. I did a good job.


(The “Bravo!” is for the client, not for me. I’m the midwife, helping the client to give birth to his paper.)

Now, time to dissertate.