I wrote this seven months ago, but left it a while. Since I've moved from the cabin where I wrote this, and am writing this foreword from the room where my grandparents died, I might as well share it today.
April 12, 2020:
I've been cogitating about privilege, and how I am privileged to be here, perceiving, thinking, feeling, breathing, moving, seeing, hearing, scenting, feeling, tasting, living, all while viewing a squirrel gathering acorns, bouncing around on the ground above the waters and wind and pine trees and mountains and snow and sky with clouds as three birds glide through air above wave upon wave, determined and on their way, to somewhere else, some new day.
Naturally, we are all here as the result of many privileges, although the whole point of comparison is that some of us have more than others. We can all focus on what is on our plates and find some form of happiness, yet certain experiences still have more quality than others.
After being alone in a cabin for fifteen days, I've recently had the privilege of mixing with society, albeit from a distance. 1st I visited the laundromat, which was cramped and kind of depressing, but then I received the greatest prize of all: grocery shopping. Quite an adventure, leading to vital treasures of food, energy and life. The Alchemist is right. The treasure is at the pyramids. I'm serious, my grocery store is on Pyramid Drive.
Before shopping, classes went well today. The morning involved the usual 11 pupils. I had them write questions they would like to ask one another, and one of them was about what we would love to do first when this whole storm passes. Some of the answers: taking a LONG walk, going to the park for a picnic with the family, walking outside with a girlfriend who is currently being kept inside by her worried parents, going to a restaurant with friends, meeting friends and giving them huge tight hugs, having a few drinks in a bar, partying at a trance music festival, simply going outside, visiting the beach, visiting Philadelphia. I said playing cards with my friends and family.
I asked the woman who wants to visit Philadelphia if she knew which Ivy League University she was going to visit. She didn't. I told her she should visit UPenn, founded by Benjamin Franklin. I asked her because she wears a different Ivy school's sweatshirt every day. Her American hobbies revolve around visiting Ivy League campuses and craft breweries. First was Brown, then Harvard, then Columbia. After three I joked she hadn't worn my alma mater yet. She asked what it was. I told her, "Cornell." Never heard of it. Sigh, not the first time. At least she hadn't heard of Penn or Dartmouth either.
Even if she'd never heard of it, I'm obviously privileged that I was able to attend such a beautiful university. I feel privileged to be alive, have good health, a ticking mind and imagination, a fairly athletic body, loving parents and a strong, intelligent, funny sister, kind and/or funny relatives, many true friends, freedoms, and on and on. I worked hard my entire educational career without my parents ever pressuring me to do my homework or study hard. They often remind me of that when I talk about my privileges. Even so, I am a legacy. I'm living in a cabin built by grandparents who both attended Cornell.
My grandmother's great aunt was one of the first women to ever attend an Ivy League, as Cornell was the first to admit women. She didn't meet my grandfather there, but later, by coincidence, they found each other. She taught history in high school, including a course named "Problems of Consumer Democracy," and urged her students to go out into the world and alleviate the injustices that brought her heart (and intellect) so much pain. Eventually, she used her cunning to persuade my grandfather to build a place by the lake so he could go fishing here. My grandfather grew up on a farm and was the first to attend school, where he studied agriculture before he started his own tree farms and mill.
As for my parents, my mother worked very hard in school, got into her parents' alma mater, and became a social worker to help those without privileges. My father's generation was the first to attend school in his family, and although the third child to go, he was the first Ivy Leaguer (although my uncle would attend Cornell for graduate school around the same time). Basically, I had many advantages compared to people I was competing against to get in, but my parents never gave any money to the school. As they explained it, if I got help from the legacy, it was because they knew a member of my family could probably handle the work. They also figured, based on how my parents served society, that my interest in government, writing and history courses might lead to a similar type of career.
Anyway, I began the day by waking in this 35 degree cabin built by my grandfather at the behest of my grandmother and renovated by my father and mother and me. After some hesitation, I ran to the shower, and listened to music because I finally can, not having any roommates anymore. I had it on this "Totally Stress Free" station that wakes me up every morning, and when Sam Cooke's "(What a) Wonderful World" came on, I couldn't stop myself from not only singing in the shower, but dancing as well. Completing a 15 day self-isolation and then stocking up on food and clean clothes can have that effect.
After getting clean, I cooked some breakfast, logged into class, and then enjoyed a long conversation about grocery stores where everyone described when they most recently achieved the basic life goal of earning more life, and how they had to be more patient than usual, but it was usually fine, and they mostly got what they wanted or needed.
I cooked lunch afterward, kept the fire going because it was so cold and rainy today, and then had a private lesson with the Colombian classical viola player, where we mostly learned vocabulary related to metropolitan cities. I learned Cairo was named "The Mother of the World." I'd been there and I didn't even know that. Makes sense to some extent. I recommend a few pyramids nearby.
My next student was a one time lesson. All I knew was that she was writing a research paper and needed help revising. It turns out she is from Afghanistan. I once had a male roommate from Afghanistan who remembers the civil war and despised the Taliban, and now I've finally gotten the female perspective. She wants to be a journalist, and was writing a paper about gender inequality in her country, which is, according to various studies she cited, just about the worst place to be a woman, although, apparently India has more gender inequality by some measures.
Naturally, we are all here as the result of many privileges, although the whole point of comparison is that some of us have more than others. We can all focus on what is on our plates and find some form of happiness, yet certain experiences still have more quality than others.
After being alone in a cabin for fifteen days, I've recently had the privilege of mixing with society, albeit from a distance. 1st I visited the laundromat, which was cramped and kind of depressing, but then I received the greatest prize of all: grocery shopping. Quite an adventure, leading to vital treasures of food, energy and life. The Alchemist is right. The treasure is at the pyramids. I'm serious, my grocery store is on Pyramid Drive.
Before shopping, classes went well today. The morning involved the usual 11 pupils. I had them write questions they would like to ask one another, and one of them was about what we would love to do first when this whole storm passes. Some of the answers: taking a LONG walk, going to the park for a picnic with the family, walking outside with a girlfriend who is currently being kept inside by her worried parents, going to a restaurant with friends, meeting friends and giving them huge tight hugs, having a few drinks in a bar, partying at a trance music festival, simply going outside, visiting the beach, visiting Philadelphia. I said playing cards with my friends and family.
I asked the woman who wants to visit Philadelphia if she knew which Ivy League University she was going to visit. She didn't. I told her she should visit UPenn, founded by Benjamin Franklin. I asked her because she wears a different Ivy school's sweatshirt every day. Her American hobbies revolve around visiting Ivy League campuses and craft breweries. First was Brown, then Harvard, then Columbia. After three I joked she hadn't worn my alma mater yet. She asked what it was. I told her, "Cornell." Never heard of it. Sigh, not the first time. At least she hadn't heard of Penn or Dartmouth either.
Even if she'd never heard of it, I'm obviously privileged that I was able to attend such a beautiful university. I feel privileged to be alive, have good health, a ticking mind and imagination, a fairly athletic body, loving parents and a strong, intelligent, funny sister, kind and/or funny relatives, many true friends, freedoms, and on and on. I worked hard my entire educational career without my parents ever pressuring me to do my homework or study hard. They often remind me of that when I talk about my privileges. Even so, I am a legacy. I'm living in a cabin built by grandparents who both attended Cornell.
My grandmother's great aunt was one of the first women to ever attend an Ivy League, as Cornell was the first to admit women. She didn't meet my grandfather there, but later, by coincidence, they found each other. She taught history in high school, including a course named "Problems of Consumer Democracy," and urged her students to go out into the world and alleviate the injustices that brought her heart (and intellect) so much pain. Eventually, she used her cunning to persuade my grandfather to build a place by the lake so he could go fishing here. My grandfather grew up on a farm and was the first to attend school, where he studied agriculture before he started his own tree farms and mill.
As for my parents, my mother worked very hard in school, got into her parents' alma mater, and became a social worker to help those without privileges. My father's generation was the first to attend school in his family, and although the third child to go, he was the first Ivy Leaguer (although my uncle would attend Cornell for graduate school around the same time). Basically, I had many advantages compared to people I was competing against to get in, but my parents never gave any money to the school. As they explained it, if I got help from the legacy, it was because they knew a member of my family could probably handle the work. They also figured, based on how my parents served society, that my interest in government, writing and history courses might lead to a similar type of career.
Anyway, I began the day by waking in this 35 degree cabin built by my grandfather at the behest of my grandmother and renovated by my father and mother and me. After some hesitation, I ran to the shower, and listened to music because I finally can, not having any roommates anymore. I had it on this "Totally Stress Free" station that wakes me up every morning, and when Sam Cooke's "(What a) Wonderful World" came on, I couldn't stop myself from not only singing in the shower, but dancing as well. Completing a 15 day self-isolation and then stocking up on food and clean clothes can have that effect.
Now, I don't claim to be an A student
But I'm trying to be
For maybe by being an A student, baby
I can win your love for me
After getting clean, I cooked some breakfast, logged into class, and then enjoyed a long conversation about grocery stores where everyone described when they most recently achieved the basic life goal of earning more life, and how they had to be more patient than usual, but it was usually fine, and they mostly got what they wanted or needed.
I cooked lunch afterward, kept the fire going because it was so cold and rainy today, and then had a private lesson with the Colombian classical viola player, where we mostly learned vocabulary related to metropolitan cities. I learned Cairo was named "The Mother of the World." I'd been there and I didn't even know that. Makes sense to some extent. I recommend a few pyramids nearby.
My next student was a one time lesson. All I knew was that she was writing a research paper and needed help revising. It turns out she is from Afghanistan. I once had a male roommate from Afghanistan who remembers the civil war and despised the Taliban, and now I've finally gotten the female perspective. She wants to be a journalist, and was writing a paper about gender inequality in her country, which is, according to various studies she cited, just about the worst place to be a woman, although, apparently India has more gender inequality by some measures.
As she'd lived in New Delhi, we were able to converse about our impressions of that nation and my nation. She actually thinks Americans are less arrogant about our place in the world, and she feels more accepted in New York than she did in Europe, India or Afghanistan. She had to put herself through college, as her father didn't even want her to because she's a woman. Now she's married and feels as though she is respected in the Metropolitan Area.
She has so many stories about other women and the violence and oppression they had survived. I know that such things happen all around the world, including somewhere, right now, in the small county where I've moved, and how it's on the rise in this country given the lock downs. Even so, whenever I subtly bemoaned how Muslims and women have been getting attacked in this country, she kept brushing those concerns aside, as she's had a positive experience herself. However, in her paper, she brought up the critics who argue that she shouldn't point out the injustices in her country, because it's that way to some degree everywhere. I agreed with her that relativistic arguments pointing out that other countries hurt their own in various ways isn't justification for such deeds anywhere.
We needed sixteen extra minutes to complete the consultation on her research paper, but I didn't mind. I would have done it whether or not I'm in the cabin whose existence was requested by my grandmother.
I am privileged to have read her story and learned about her point of view, because we all benefit when we listen/read and learn about what each of us goes through. Such experiences help us repair our world, spread more love, and create energy anew.
She has so many stories about other women and the violence and oppression they had survived. I know that such things happen all around the world, including somewhere, right now, in the small county where I've moved, and how it's on the rise in this country given the lock downs. Even so, whenever I subtly bemoaned how Muslims and women have been getting attacked in this country, she kept brushing those concerns aside, as she's had a positive experience herself. However, in her paper, she brought up the critics who argue that she shouldn't point out the injustices in her country, because it's that way to some degree everywhere. I agreed with her that relativistic arguments pointing out that other countries hurt their own in various ways isn't justification for such deeds anywhere.
We needed sixteen extra minutes to complete the consultation on her research paper, but I didn't mind. I would have done it whether or not I'm in the cabin whose existence was requested by my grandmother.
I am privileged to have read her story and learned about her point of view, because we all benefit when we listen/read and learn about what each of us goes through. Such experiences help us repair our world, spread more love, and create energy anew.
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