Birdbrains

“They say I’m a birdbrain/ If I am then can I just fly away,” Buffalo Tom

While “birdbrain” is often used as a synonym for imbecile or dunderhead, birds actually have fairly substantial brains relative to head size and exhibit communication skills and the ability to use improvised tools.  Experiments have found that crows can count to three, parrots to six, and cormorants to eight.  Bird-Brain was also a Marvel Comics superhero in New Mutants.

The Economist eulogized maverick Catholic priest Andrew Greeley, who infuriated Chicago’s Cardinal John Cody by writing a steamy best-selling novel entitled “The Cardinal Sins.”  Cody stole approximately a million dollars from church coffers to purchase a Florida house, luxury car, and other expensive gifts for his mistress Helen Dolan Wilson.  The essay concluded that Greeley “was an unrelenting thorn in the hierarchy’s side, a lifelong crusader against the rigid canon lawyers and ‘mitred birdbrains’ who tried to turn his beloved Catholic church into a fortress against the modern world, rather than a community of grace and celebration.” 

Here’s a scene from “The Cardinal Sins,” which sold eight million copies: “"He pulled her down on the sofa and ripped her dress, stripping her to the waist. He wanted to stop. Principle began to reassert itself. His fingers slipped away from her breasts. He breathed deeply. Yes, now he could stop…He was no longer touching flesh, only black lace, much less dangerous. Then she put her arms around his back and drew him down on top of her. Their love was violent and reckless. They clung to each other long afterward, the perspiration of their bodies blending and binding them together. Neither of them spoke."

The Economist’s clever cover for June 8 simulated a scene from “Brokeback Mountain” with Barack Obama and Xi Jinping dressed as stud cowboys, with one caption reading, “He stole his heart (and then his intellectual property).”  I’m sure Dean Bottorff, a subscriber and former Post-Trib headline writer, approved.

Charles Emmerson’s book about the year 1913, subtitled “In Search of the World Before the Great War,” cites The Economist as claiming a hundred years ago that war among civilized countries was now an impossibility. Lest our generation become too complacent, a reviewer for The Economist concludes: “In the current testing of European unity, the reassertion of the nation state and insecurity engendered by rising powers, the world in 2013 looks a bit discomfitingly like that of 1913.”

Seattle Councilmember Nick Licata, nephew Joe’s stepdad, sent an invitation to “Walk the Pride Parade with me on June 30th!”  The flyer mentioned his previous support of LGBTQ rights (the Q stands for Qusetioning), including a statewide marriage equality bill.  At the time I’ll be in Palm Springs, California, a mecca for gays, I’m told.

Steve McShane made eight jpegs of people I’ll be having students quote from in his class next week, during my “Age of Affluence and Anxiety” talk.  Most, including recently deceased Garrett Cope, are no longer with us, but Carrol Vertrees, Louis Vasquez, and Lydia Grady are still very much alive and live useful lives.

from left, Atilla Tuncay, John Morris, Paul Blohm

A retirement reception honored professors Paul Blohm (Education), John Morris (Physics), and Atilla Tuncay (Chemistry).  Blohm appointed me to several search committees and recently moved near the Archives to head up the teaching center CISTL.  We’d often run into each other by the elevator and chat about family, university matters, and retirement plans.  Atilla’s daughters attended Portage High with Philip and David.  When I attended a conference at Bogazici University in Istanbul, Atilla, who had attended its forerunner, Robert College, told me what to expect.  Chancellor Lowe passed out gifts (clocks, I presume) and offered brief biographical sketches, pronouncing Tuncay’s first name “AT-ih-luh” rather than “uh-TIL-uh” like most of us always have.  Unlike Attila the Hun and the Latin American bright-rumped Attila (a passerine bird in the fly-catching family), Tuncay spells his first name with a single T and two Ls.

After delivering a hilarious bit about the titles of John Morris’s 48 scholarly publications, Mark Hoyert made witty remarks about Atilla’s cluttered office and fondness for puns.  Tuncay has done research on hydrocarbons called alkanes and has a sign on his door reading, “It takes alkanes.”  Mark quipped that while an optimist says a glass is half full and a pessimist claims it is half empty, a chemist says the glass contains half water and half vapor.  He concluded by joking that old chemists never die, they just stop reacting.  Retirees Alan Lindmark and Mike Certa talked about, of all things, IUN’s Arts and Sciences Curriculum Committee, specifically the onerous meetings. Atilla had been an amiable lunch companion, Poulard recalled, back when there was a faculty table.  I miss those conversations.

Two folks beat me to the chow line, but both chose a path in front of the tables, so I was first through the back line and was pleased to find Polish sausage and chicken wings along with fruit, veggies, and cake.  When Vice Chancellor Malik crossed my path, I said, “Hi, David,” and he responded, “Hi, James.”  Dean Hoyert mentioned an upcoming vacation in the Florida Keys; knowing he is a Richard Russo fan, “I recommended “That Old Cape Magic.”  I asked Center for Urban and Regional Excellence assistant director Sandra Hall Smith how her boss, Ellen Szarleta, was doing, and she replied, “Busy, busy, busy.”  Lindmark lamented that his Yankees were doing poorly and commiserated about my Phillies.

Mike Certa mentioned diligently working on his memoirs. Writing about gym class at Gary Edison during the early 1960s, Mike explained that football coach Ralph Brasmele, would “divide us into teams and give us a football to play with.  Then, he’d pick a kid to run the two blocks over to the local Diary Queen to get him a milk shake.  Then he’d sit in the bleachers and drink the milk shake.  I wasn‘t impressed.”  Basketball coach Howard Forsberg was into calisthenics, which Mike hated, especially rope climbing. “Fortunately for me,” Carta added, “once basketball season started, Coach Forsberg wasn’t really interested in his classes – he preferred spending time in his office devising basketball plays and making eyes at the long-legged red-headed female coach whom he eventually married after he’d dumped and divorced his first wife.  Most of the time, he’d have our class run 5 times around the gym and then break up into groups.  He let each group do pretty much what they wanted to do.”  Mike usually played Ping-Pong with Harold Powers, Lee Muffett, and Larry Gregorash.  Mike’s dad bought a table for their basement and was so good he “he beat everyone on the block – adults as well as kids.” 

Upper Dublin gym teacher Mr. Cunningham also had eyes for his leggy female counterpart and a fetish for calisthenics, gymnastics, and rope climbing.  He also taught sex education as part of “hygiene,” but his use of Latin words and warnings about the dangers of communicable diseases made the class a turn-off rather than a turn-on.

Some 60 people heard Ken Schoon discuss his new book “Dreams of Duneland” at Westchester Library.  Peg handled sales afterwards.  Richly illustrated, the table-top book is divided into two parts, “Scenes of Duneland” and “Stories of Duneland.”  The latter include portraits of Henry Cowles, Octave Chanute, Drusilla Carr, and Diana of the Dunes and treatment of such subjects as commercial fishing, sand mining, Good Fellow Youth Camp, and South Shore Railroad.  Schoon begins with a quote from Earl H. Reed “The Dune Country,” published in 1916: “It is a country for the dreamer and the poet, who would cherish its secrets, open enchanted locks, and explore hidden vistas, which the Spirit of the Dunes has kept for all those who understand.”  Amazingly, the cost is just $30.

As the Syrian rebellion nears collapse, in part due to Hezbollah joining forces with Assad’s troops, some birdbrains in the Obama administration apparently want the U.S. to ride in and “save the day,” using as an excuse the claim that Assad’s troops have used chemical weapons in the form of nerve gas.  Let’s hope we do not do something foolish and that the President errs on the side of caution.  Right now he approved sending arms to rebel groups, and hawks are already calling for further escalation, such as instituting a “no fly” zone.

Ken Carlson, chairman of the condo’s Landscaping Committee, repaired a defective gutter spout in the unit next to ours.  President Bernie Holicky, surveying his work, remarked that Ken had helped build houses for Habitat for Humanity in Arizona and Africa.

“Before Midnight” is a brilliant film with little “action” and full of long conversations between Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Celine (Julie Delpy).  A sequel to “Before Sunset” and “Before Sunrise,” it covers two people who met as students 18 years before and are the parents of twin girls.  After a pleasant summer with his son, Jesse feels guilty living apart from him the rest of the year.  In the course of one day frustrated Celine accuses him of being controlling, passive-aggressive, inattentive, selfish, and a boring lover.  He retorts that she’s crazy but that he loves her, and the movie ends on a hopeful note.

Arriving at the Hobart Theater early, I caught the first 20 minutes of “This Is the End,” a Seth Rogen flick where buddies Jonah Hill, Danny McBride, Craig Robinson, Paul Rudd, and Michael Cera essentially play caricatures of themselves.  At a party at James Franco’s house, Cera ingests coke, slaps Rihanna’s ass, and gets serviced in a bathroom by two admirers.  Rogen asks Jay Baruchel, who walked in on them, to describe Cera’s butt and speculates that it resembles a fresh donut with a cute hole in the middle.