Intermezzo

 

It's now been four months since I started this blog and I suspect it's a reasonable time for an evaluation and, perhaps, a good time to supplement my original formulation with some additional thoughts.

First of all, there have been no comments. That's not much of surprise since no one is aware of the blog. I've been careful not to mention it to anyone. Which, of course, raises the question of why I'm bothering to do this. After all, what's the point of expressing my thoughts if no one is aware of what they are? Perhaps my answers to this question, and the existence of this intermezzo, are self-serving, but if no one will read them anyway it doesn't matter. It also gives me the opportunity to add some biographical information which probably won't interest anyone, but which I want a place to set down. Maybe after I'm dead someone will read it.

Let's go back a little. To my childhood. And my mother. Mothers. That's where everything begins, isn't it? And, as everyone knows (even if the idea is erroneous), they're to blame for whatever goes wrong. I was a smart kid. Knowledgeable about everything. But my mother, pleased though she was, complained that as bright as I was in all fields, I wasn't the best in anything.ⁱ (Actually, that wasn't completely true. I had the highest IQ in my class and probably even the school.ⁱⁱ And I did extremely well in the examinations for State Scholarships.ⁱⁱⁱ I had enough insight to know that I was an unusually bright child and I should take advantage of it because as an adult I'd continue to be smart but no one would kvell^iv over me.)

But there was no single subject that interested me much more than any other. I was (am^v) more interested in the relationships between things – associations which may not be obvious^vi – than in anything itself. And it was not important that others understood or shared my views. If I knew I was right, that was enough. Nonetheless, I was shy and in need of the approval of others – others whom I would not antagonize by expressing views that would be seen as at odds with whatever was acceptable thought. So I did whatever was necessary to get along.^vii

Like most people, I worked for a living. Unlike most, however, I did very well, achieving leadership positions in different institutions. As in my childhood, I was quite good in what I did. But when I got home I tried not to take my work there. I didn't always succeed in this, and there were times when I continued or completed tasks at home that were begun in my office. But I also started a wide range of projects which had no relation to my profession. They were explorations of whatever struck my fancy at a particular time. And completion was not a necessary component. If I was satisfied that I had worked out the problems, I was happy to dump the production in a drawer and go on to something else. The ideas were mine (and only mine, which was what I preferred^viii) and it wasn't relevant if they weren't finished and no one else saw them.^ix That was how I wanted it. I was satisfied with the result. So the drawer filled. I decided I'd deal with those half-completed projects after I retired.

That day finally came.^x It couldn't come soon enough. Leaving the job was liberating. Work was fun, but workplace politics had been oppressive.^xi I enjoyed certain aspects of my activities^xii but I had had enough. And there was the drawer. I had plenty to do and finally had the time to do it.^xiii

Much of what I had filed remains there. I realize now that it was the process, not the material, that gave me the greatest pleasure, and that process is one that continues. I enjoy exploring ideas and problems as I think of them,^xiv irrespective of the subject. Which is where the blog comes in. I still have no need for others to read what I have to say,^xv but the blog gives me the discipline I needed to work out and to complete the project. That should make my wife happy. Or, at least, it would if she knew about it.

But not my mother. I still prefer to investigate a wide variety of subjects^xvi than to limit myself to one. No matter how good I might be at it. I'll never be the best at anything, but I don't really care.

Next episode: “Intermezzo 2” – The saga continues.

i     Peggy Lee's way of expressing the syndrome was, “I know a little bit about a lot of things, but I don't know enough about you.”

ii    In those days they put a lot of stock in IQs.

iii    They were based on merit then, not need.

iv    See OED (Third Edition) if you're unfamiliar with the word.

v    I don't remember my thoughts of sixty years ago that well (I'll be discussing memory shortly – if I remember to do so) and I may be back-projecting subsequent attitudes, but my current SOP seems to correlate well with what I remember of the past.

vi    For example, and it is only an example, it seems to me that some political philosophies my be related to infantile feelings of connectedness with the rest of the world which is, in the infantile view, part of the self. Liberal thought is, in many ways, a remnant of this stage of development – but I'll expand on that issue another time.

vii    I have since learned to express my opinions in letters to the editor. Sometimes they're published, but even if that isn't the case I've had a chance to vent.

viii   Privacy “seeks to erect an unbreachable wall of dignity and reserve against the entire world. The free man is the private man, the man who still keeps some of his thoughts and judgments to himself, who feels no over-riding compulsion to share everything of value with others, not even those he loves and trusts.” Clinton Rossiter, “The Pattern of Liberty,” in M. R. Kovnitz and Clinton Rossiter (eds), Aspects of Liberty, 1958, Ithaca, New York.

ix    My wife knew about them and chided me for not finishing anything, even though I didn't care if they weren't completed in the usual sense.

x    In fact, it's still here. Retirement is more fun than work. It doesn't pay as well but the trade-off is worth it.

xi    A friend once took me to task for being “inflexible.” What he meant was that I wouldn't acquiesce to the view of a superior (in rank) if I knew him to be wrong. I wasn't cut out for politics.

xii    One of my functions was as a teacher, and the interaction with my students (doctors) was very rewarding and a lot of fun.

xiii   People have told me that they'll never retire. After all, what would they do? They never took the time to prepare.

xiv    Most important thoughts come to mind when I can't write them down. (Have you ever noticed that?) I'm in the shower, or I don't have paper handy, or something else is standing in my way. So I forget a lot of things including my best ideas. That may not be completely true, but I prefer admitting to a loss of memory than to a loss of creativity. Losing some memory – mostly for particular words – seems to go with the territory. I have a deal with my wife. She provides the words I forget and I fill in what she can't remember. So far it's worked, but the time will come when we both forget the same things.

xv    Actually I'm ambivalent on this point. I think I'd enjoy (favorable) feedback on what I write, but it's up to the reader to discover the blog. He won't ask, though, and I won't tell.

xvi    And I'm an expert on none of them. It's exhilarating to be able to shoot my mouth off without regard to facts. I avoid naming names so I have no concern about libel and, as far as I know, free speech reigns. In any case, with no readers, there shouldn't be any problems. If someone should, however, come across my blog and be offended, so be it.