Thoughts on a dog day afternoon

Walking by the river is always therapeutic.  I am so much used to it that I wonder how I lived without a gorgeous river to walk by during all those years before I moved to Oregon!

The mind wandered, even while I paid attention to people walking or biking.  I was struck, yet again, by the sight of a dog being walked--in a stroller, as if it was a human child that the person was caring for. 

I was reminded of my father for the millionth time for his comment after seeing how dogs are treated in this country; he joked that if people do good things in their lives, then they will be reborn as dogs in America, and will be taken care of better than how kings and queens lived!  Some of the dog beds are a lot more luxurious than what royalty slept on.  Queens from the old days would have enjoyed the kind of grooming services that dogs get.  The grocery store even has dog food that is not canned but specially made!

The wandering mind wondered what I had blogged about two years ago, when I was a gainfully employed full professor.  The post from July 15, 2020 impressed me quite a bit.  Not for the writing style, but one particular paragraph there:

My own university also has to reckon with the tightening dollars and cents.  As a result, some of us faculty, too, are bound to lose our jobs before the next academic year ends.

I had given myself a layoff notice well before the university laid me off!  The layoff letter was delivered to me during a Zoom meeting on March 30, 2021--more than eight months after my blog-post.  The end was too damn easy to predict.

Now, as a pensioner, I have time to walk, to cook, to clean, to read, to blog ...  And, to play bridge.   I suppose I have a dog's life thanks to the good deeds in my previous birth!  Maybe I should send a thank-you note to the university on the anniversary of the layoff notice in 2023 ;)

The following is the (unedited) post from July 15, 2020.

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Unlike in most other countries, American universities are big time landlords, who earn a lot of income from their developed real estate.

Country clubs Dorms, conference rooms, auditoriums, climbing walls, etc.  Some also own huge basketball and football venues for educational purposes entertainment.

All those expensive real estate developments have been idle since last March.  And there is very little chance that significant usage of those facilities will begin even in early 2021.

The landlords universities are in distress, and the Republican Uncle Sam couldn't care less.

My own university also has to reckon with the tightening dollars and cents.  As a result, some of us faculty, too, are bound to lose our jobs before the next academic year ends.

Should that day arrive way earlier than I had planned, I will be thankful that I was/am one of the lucky few on this planet who was able to pursue for quite a length of time what truly interested me.  Thanks to some dumb luck!

In my agitated and angst-filled younger years, I was convinced that somewhere out there were the answers to the big questions.  Somewhere.

Even in the first couple of years of graduate school, I was confident that I was on the way to the answers.

I did find the answer.  It was a non-answer of sorts.  Life is full of wonderful ambiguity.  That's it.  We have to live through it all.

Every once in a while I succumb to the temptation of the answer, but almost always I just want to breathe and drink and eat this ambiguity.  I love those damn wicked problems!

No wonder then that even with the courses I teach, I seem to always force students to think about the possible multiple interpretations. I even tell them sometimes not to expect a definitive answer from me.  I suppose my pedagogical goal, if I were to think about it that way, is that if I can help students understand that life itself is all about dealing with ambiguity, then they will know how to deal with specific instances whatever they might be.

A concern and worry that I have is that despite the high levels of literacy that humanity has achieved, there appears to be a decreasing interest in exploring and understanding and discussing the ambiguity that life is.  Perhaps that is also a reason why 63 million responded with a favorable vote when a demagogue yelled and screamed that he alone had all the answers,

The following poem by Oregon's own William Stafford is how I want to end this note on the delightful pursuit of ambiguity:

The Way It Is
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.