Flaccus on Spring

Iam veris comites, quae mare temperant
impellunt animae lintea Thraciae
iam nec prata rigent nec fluvii strepunt
  hiberna nive turgidi

nidum ponit, Ityn flebiliter gemens,
infelix avis et Cecropiae domus
aeternum opprobrium, quod male barbaras
  regum est ulta libidines

dicunt in tenero gramine pinguium
custodes ovium carmina fistula,
delectantque deum, cui pecus et nigri
  colles Arcadiae placent

adduxere sitim tempore, Vergili:
sed pressume Calibus ducere Liberum
si gestis, iuvenum nobilium cliens
  nardo vina merebere

nardi parvos onyx eliciet cadum
qui nunc Sulpiciis adcubat horreis
spes donare novas largus amaraque
  curarum eluere efficax.

ad quae si properas gaudia, cum tua
velox merce veni: non ego te meis
immunem meditor tinguere poculis
  plena dives ut in domo

verum pone moras et studium lucri
nigrorumque memor, dum licet, ignium
misce stultitiam consiliis brevem
  dulce est desipere in loco

Already the companions of spring, Thracian winds
which give trial to the sea  are swelling sails
Nor now are the meadows stiff with frost nor do the
streams roar swollen with winter snow

Crying Itys groaning makes her nest,
the gloomy bird an eternal reproach on
the house of Cecropis, which darkly took
vengeance on the lust of barbarian kings

The keepers of the fattened sheep with flute tell
poems in the tender grass and delight the god
to whom the dark hills of Arcadia and flock
give pleasure

O Virgil, it's high time for a drink
to take something pressed at Calibus
O servant of the high-born young men,
what are you doing to drink that wine with nard?

An onyx-board will bring out a jar of nard which
now lies in the Sulpician storehouses
generous to give new hope and effective to wash away
the bitterness of our cares

To which if you hurry with spirit, quickly
I'll come with thy price. I with my cups will
non leave shake your hand unserved as the
rich do in their full house

Come, leave off delay and work concerns
Remember the black fires and while you can
mix a little foolishness with your wisdom
It's a sweet place to let go.

Blogging for Books--This is Your Brain On Sports

This was a delightful book. If you've ever wondered, as I have, how it could be psychologically possible to enjoy following and rooting for the Buffalo Bills, this is the book for you. Not only do the authors explore the anecdotal evidence on hometown loyalty, home-field advantage, and rivalries, but they use solid research in behavioral economics and cite a number of well-run studies and test cases, not to mention piggybacking on giants in the field like Kahneman, Ariely, and Lowenstein.

If that wasn't enough to make an interesting book about the social science of sports, the writing is downright funny as well. I thumbed to the index as soon as it arrived to make sure that there weren't going to be too many Bills jokes (only Bills fans are allowed to make fun of our team, after all) and was relieved to discover that the Browns are more often the target of their NFL barbs.

Towards the end of the book there are several chapters devoted to serious and downright important topics too, such as bias in moral judgment, the finish-line effect, the data of performing in the midst of trauma, and even a case-study from a patient in a coma. It was a fun, quick book, and I'd highly recommend it to even a casual sports fan.

Those Boys...

I. Forkules
Somewhere along the way we thought it would be a Wise Parenting Decision to introduce Owen to the subtle arts of using silverware in the hopes that someday, maybe, we might be able to eat with him in public. So instead of dumping out a pile of food in front of him on his tray and letting him mash oozing handfuls of it into his mouth use his fingers to feed himself we recently set a fork and spoon down in front of him and a small red plate. He did what every first time utensil-using boy does, of course--he turned the fork and spoon into drumsticks. But then, after watching J demonstrate exactly how to use the fork to scoop up a morsel of delicious casserole, he took a big step forward. He picked up a bite of food with his right hand, and put it onto the fork in his left. He then brought the fork up to his mouth and in doing so knocked the bite of food off, which he promptly picked up with his right hand and mashed back into his mouth.

Dealing with the silverware experiment wouldn't be so bad except that James eats at a pace which can be measured in geological time, so all of the rest of us have finished our dinners before he has even considered taking a first bite of whatever lukewarm residue he's been sizing up for the last twenty minutes. Owen doesn't handle the wait time after dinner particularly well. Neither do his parents, actually, but that's a separate story. Sometimes the wait time ends with Owen throwing his utensils overboard ("Uh.....oh.") but more often than not it turns into obstreperous banging of anything within his reach--table, chair, plate, sippy-cup, parent.

As he was banging away at his plate this evening the noise suddenly stopped. We've all learned by now that a silent Owen is a dangerous Owen. The musical sound of his peering out the window and making inquisitive noises in his ongoing search for dogs is safety, but if you can't hear him anywhere, it probably means that he's upstairs trying to turn on his space heater again. Sure enough, J poked her head in from the kitchen, and both James (over his plate of untouched food) and Owen were staring open-mouthed at what Owen had done. He finally broke a plate. I don't know whether he's extraordinarily strong or whether the plate had become structurally unsound due to his repeated banging or whether he is just particularly aptly named "Smith," but he shattered a stoneware dinner plate into three pieces.

I should have told James that I was going to let Owen bang on him next unless he finished his dinner.

II. Getting Out the Door
It was library night, which ended in a librarian flagging us down because James had dropped one of our personal books into the drop slot and Owen hiding behind plants in the atrium to fill his diaper, but the hardest part was getting out the door.

I had to load car seats into my car, which is always a bit of a wrestling match with the backseats, front seats, and seat belts. Inevitably it's raining while I attempt this, and tonight was no exception. The boys were excited to go, and James was downright nervous. (I finally convinced him to finish his dinner on the threat that the library might close before we arrived if he didn't get a move on with his macaroni and cheese.)

"Your job," I told him as I prepared to go out to load car seats "is to find your shoes and Owen's shoes before I come back in. Then we can get going to the library."
"And we can get there before it closes?"
"Yes, we'll get there before it closes."
"Okay, I'll go as quick as I can!"

I stepped out into the garage to grab car seats and shut the door behind me. I noticed that James' shoes were in the garage and made a mental note to grab them on the way back in. It was sleeting out, and the wind was blowing hard too. James' seat went in without a problem. I was wrestling with the buckle on Owen's when my parent sense tingled...I looked behind me.

Sure enough, having wandered into the garage when James opened the door to look for his shoes and then out the open garage door into the cold soaking driveway without a coat and only in his socks, was Owen.

"Owen, go inside!"
<shakes head no, points to opposite sidewalk>
"What, are you looking for dogs?"
<nods head vigorously, cranes neck up and down the street in both directions>

Quick Hitters

I. Boys and Video Games
"Daddy, we played the Wii and had so much fun and I played baseball and golf and we made a Mii for Owen and it looks like him!"
"That sounds like a lot of fun! Are you good at those games?"
"I am. Hey, when do you think we can play the Wii again?"
"Well, that was a special treat for today since it was so yucky outside."
"Can we play it again now?"
"No, I don't think we'll play Wii again today."
<flops down on the floor and covers face with hands>
"Daddy, you have made me go back to sleep>
<runs away making crying noises and hides up in room>
<Owen casually walks out of the kitchen gnawing on the swatter end of a flyswatter>

II. Owen Reading Books
"I love you on your very best...and very worst of days."
<Owen turns page>
"I love you when you're happy...and I love you when you're sad."
<Owen turns page and sees a picture of a dog>
"GAAHHH!!! Jaja-ge-dah! GAAHHH!!"
"Yes, it's a doggy. Do you like it?"
"GAHHH!!!"
<points as hard as he can at the picture>
"Do you think it looks like Jack the puppy?"
<Leans into the book until his nose is touching the page, staring with intense concentration. Sits up and nods.>
"Uh-huh. GAAHH!!!!!"

III. Never Heard That One Before
The best game when Smith brothers sub in each other's concerts and church events is to ask the other participants (who invariably remark "Wow, Mr. Smith..he looks just like you") to order us according to age. The state of facial hair from brother to brother inevitably weighs heavily in the perceived birth order.
Today as I was walking behind Pax, with Kylie and Abby, one of his students asked "Wow, Mr. Smith, he looks just like you. Is that your son?"

sapientia huius mundi

Vitam quae faciant beatiorem
iucundissime Martialis, haec sunt:
res non parta labore, sed relicta
non ingratus ager, focus perennis
lis numquam, toga rara, mens quieta
vires ingenuae, salubre corpus
prudens simplicitas, pares amici
convictus facilis, sine arte mensa
nox non ebria sed soluta curis
non tristis torus et tamen pudicus
somnus qui faciat brevis tenebras
quod sis, esse velis nihilque malis
summum nec metuas diem nec optes

These are the things that a happy life
would make, dearest Martial:
Those things gotten not by work, but inherited
Work that isn't thankless, a hearth with a fire
Never needing a lawyer or fancy clothes
A calm mind, good muscles and a healthy body
Good sense and true friends
Sharing their table with little pressure
Not drinking too much or worrying about it
Good sex without worrying about it
Sleeping through the night easily.
Just want to be what you are, and not anything else.
Don't fear or hope for the end.

M. Valerius Martialis

Niebuhr, Christ and Culture in Paradox

Both Paul and Luther have been characterized as cultural conservatives. Much can be said for the ultimate effect of their work in promoting cultural reform; yet it seems to be true that they were deeply concerned to bring change into only one of the great cultural institutions and sets of habits of their times--the religious. For the rest they seemed to be content to let state and economic life--with slavery in the one case and social stratification in the other--continue relatively unchanged. They desired and required improvement in the conduct of princes, citizens, consumers, tradesmen, slaves, masters, etc.; but these were to be improvements within an essentially unchanged context of social habit. Even the family, in their view, retained its dominantly patriarchal character, despite their counsel to husbands, wives, parents, and children to love each other in Christ.
Such conservatism seems indeed to be directly connected with the duality position. If it has nevertheless contributed to social change, this has resulted largely without its intention, and not without the assistance of other groups. Conservatism is a logical consequence of the tendency to think of law, state, and other institutions as restraining forces, dykes against sin, preventers of anarchy, rather than as positive agencies through which men in social union render positive service to neighbors advancing toward true life. Moreover, for the dualists such institutions belong wholly to the temporal and dying world....

Talking About Death

"What does Easter mean?"

I paused with a bite of toast halfway to my mouth yesterday morning, and began to think through the response. I was quite sure that James had heard the word "resurrection." He knows who Jesus is. He had probably heard the words "death" and "dead."

"James...do you know what death is? What it means when you say that someone has died?"

He's four years old. But I've tried to be honest about life in a mortal body with him so far, and I guessed that he would understand what dying meant. Yes, you get sleepy once you're awake for too many hours. Sugar can rot your teeth. You have a penis and you don't need to feel embarrassed about it. Yes, you too will die some day.

At any rate, we played in a graveyard today and he loved it.

That isn't quite so bad as it sounds. I remember how much I looked forward to visiting the Mt. Albion cemetery as a child. I loved climbing up the steep hills, looking through all the fascinating marble stones, and then ascending the great stone tower at the top of the cemetery and looking out over the county.

We bundled up both of the boys this morning after we ran and took them down to Mount Hope cemetery. James had a great time. He looked for his name on the stones and found it on several. (Plenty of J-A-M-E-S, but no O-W-E-N.) The grounds there are beautiful, and he admired the walkways and the brilliant green lawn. There were angles and crosses and obelisks and columns to look at, and a biting wind that cut through the bright sunshine.

He wore his boots and still got the seat of his pants all muddy from scrambling down hills. I don't think that the conversation from the previous morning even crossed his mind as he walked over and through all of the final resting places of the Rochesterians. J and I marked familiar names as we went through the paths--names that are also on college dormitory buildings, hospital wings, and recital halls.

We used a gift certificate that we'd been saving since Christmas afterwards and ate some hot Italian food. Owen flirted with a waitress and tried to eat crayons. But James told J that he would say please and thank-you and hello, and that he would stay in his seat.

He's encountering the adult world a little bit more every day, and it isn't bothering him.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cp9uVL29qiU