bearing blog


bear – ing n 1  the manner in which one comports oneself;  2  the act, power, or time of bringing forth offspring or fruit; 3 a machine part in which another part turns [a journal ~];  pl comprehension of one’s position, environment, or situation;   5  the act of moving while supporting the weight of something [the ~ of the cross].


  • “Argument via ridicule only takes you so far, and only keeps the already converted entertained.”

    That’s the quote of the day, from this interesting blog post at Solomonia (h/t Amy Welborn).

    I wish everybody who dares to venture into debate, from a lectern or over the dinner table, would remember that truth.  It’d certainly make presidential elections less tiresome.


  • Yay for anti-lock brakes.

    My loaner car and I, along with the three children crammed into the back seat, were in the middle of a six-car pileup today in the 94/Hennepin Avenue tunnel, on my way to pick up Hannah’s and my weekly dairy orders.  Well, actually, I was between two three-car pileups, although I certainly felt like part of both of them.  The roads were slicking up with snow this morning and just as I rounded the bend in the tunnel I heard bang! and watched the van in front of me shudder as it made a second bang! with the vehicle in front of it.

    It’s amazing how much one’s brain can take in at a moment like that.  Foot to the floor, feel the anti-lock brakes pulsing; the car fishtail for an instant then straighten out, and the forward slide of the car, bleeding momentum, heading for the brake lights in front; come to rest a few inches away from that rear bumper — but it’s not over, the eyes flick up to the rearview mirror and see the traffic coming up behind, the ears pick up the squeal of someone else’s brakes; brace yourself for the moment of collision; what came out of my mouth as I cringed was an inane "Oh please help help" as I was sure we were going to be rear-ended hard and driven into the truck in front; watching the car behind swerve to the left (into traffic?  risky!) to avoid ramming me, the car behind that colliding bang! and one more car behind that one bang!  And the next thing I knew I was still, completely unscathed, not even a tap, with three cars piled up in front of me and three behind.

    And me in a loaner I’d only driven once, at least if the previous day’s excursion counts as only one trip!

    That was morning.  Afternoon saw me driving back to the dealership in a snowstorm to get my minivan at three miles an hour — I know this because it took me an hour to go three miles — and then to the Y to get Oscar to his 6 pm swimming lesson.  I left Plymouth at 2:30, stopped at the dealership for about twenty minutes, and got to the South Minneapolis Y at ten till six.   


  • Will the driver of the maroon Sienna please come to the front desk? Your lights are on, and there’s nobody home.

    Dorky things I did today, in order of appearance, all on a single car-repair errand.

    (1) Gave the dealership cashier my expired proof-of-insurance card (I do not know why the old one and not the new one was in my glove compartment) when I went to pick up the loaner car, necessitating a telephone call to the insurance company while my children rolled on the floor and asked, "Will it be much longer?" 

    (2) Miscalculated the one-to-one correspondence between children and child restraints when unloading my van, so that when I came back to retrieve my belongings from the pile on the floor in the corner of the service bay to put them in the loaner vehicle, I realized I didn’t have the baby’s car seat.  Had to send the cashier to get a technician to retrieve my van from the service lot so I could pull the baby’s car seat out and put it in the loaner car.

    (3) Drove all the way home, put loaner car in garage (because I remembered the garage door opener), turned off the ignition, prepared to ask Oscar to take the keys and unlock the house so I could carry sleeping baby inside … and realized that my house key was back at the dealership, attached to the van ignition key.

    (4) Called husband and left idiotic-sounding appeal for help on his voicemail before realizing that the easiest solution was to drive back to the dealership and retrieve my key, thus unnecessarily incrementing by one the number of people who think I’m an idiot today.


  • Spe Salvi.

    I went out for breakfast this morning before anyone else awoke — my favorite Saturday activity, now that MJ’s old enough to be left behind for a few hours — and took with me the new encyclical, finishing it over a pile of fried yuca, steak and eggs at the local Cuban diner. 

    I haven’t read anyone else’s comments on it yet, and here’s mine. 

    First, it’s not long — I read half before bed and half over breakfast.  Nor is it challenging for anyone who’s used to reading theology; much less challenging than Cardinal Ratzinger’s academic work. 

    B16 begins with a discourse about the nature of Christian hope and how it intersects with faith.   He talks about the "certainty of hope," which sounded paradoxical to me at first (isn’t hope something that concerns the thing you might experience, not the thing you will experience?), but I think I get it now: through faith we have a certainty of something that will satisfy our every desire, but its nature so completely unknowable to us now that it has to reside in the realm of the desired-thing, the not-yet-realized thing, and so it is something we have hope for and not satisfaction in.  So the faith and the hope are one.   (Forgive me for my clumsy paraphrasing.  There’s a reason — okay, several — that I don’t write the encyclicals.  Go read it yourself.)

    The real meat of the encyclical is paragraphs 32-48, in which Benedict describes three "settings" for learning and practicing the virtue of hope.   As I read the first, on prayer, and the second, on suffering, I was nodding and going "Oh yes," and "That’s a nice way of putting it," and other mild expressions of agreement.  The third section, though, blew me away.  If you only have time to read part of the encyclical, paragraphs 41-48 are the place to go:  "Judgment as a setting for learning and practising hope."

    Another paradox:  the Last Judgment as a means of inspiring hope?  As Mark said when I told him the topic, "That’s, um, odd."  Most of the time, the image of the Last Judgment has been used to inspire fear.  Benedict prefers to say that it inspires "responsibility."  Intriguing! 

    In those few paragraphs (only 4,159 words in length) he lays out an astonishingly concise exposition on the meaning of "images of God;" on the Christian view of history; on the tension between freely granted grace and justice for evildoers; on purgatory; on praying for the beloved dead; and  on the nature of good and evil in the human person.  If you include paragraphs 49-50 in that astonishingly concise exposition, you also get an incisive reflection on the role of Mary in all this.   So paragraphs 41 through 50 are terrific preparation for explaining some of the trickier bits of Catholic theology.   I really couldn’t believe how much he packed in.  And it’s all really fresh and new, at least to me. 

    Anyway, you shouldn’t be listening to me… read it yourself.  Form your own take on it — and then, as I’m doing now,  see what others are saying:  Amy WelbornDisputations, John Allen.  Surely more is forthcoming…


  • Fun map game.

    Here.  I came close to the 30000 points necessary to advance past level 6, but not quite.  Really need to bone up on Latin America.

    h/t Volokh Conspiracy


  • Proof that the American concept of “portion size” is expanding.

    Apparently, a one-quarter-pound beef patty, sandwiched in a four-inch-diameter bread product, and made at home,  qualifies as a "mini" hamburger.

    I know where to get a mini hamburger, and a quarter-pounder is not mini. 

    (By the way, I googled around to find the pre-cooked weight of a White Castle patty, and I got to this Wikianswers page where the first user wrote "0.70 ounces," and that had been (ostensibly) corrected by a second user who wrote "Actually, it is 2 ounces."  Well, 2 ounces (58 g) is the weight of the whole damn hamburger, cooked and with bun, and I think that’s where the second user got that figure.  I added a note to Wikianswers.  Probably should have gone to the discussion page, but what the heck.)

    Where was I?

    Oh yes.  Maybe the recipe writer was influenced by Thomas’ recent introduction of "Sandwich Size" English muffins.  What?  The old English muffins were too small for a sandwich?  (Astonishingly, there’s no nutrition info on the website.  Losers.)  I’ve been making hamburgers on whole-grain English muffins for a long time — it’s easier to find whole-wheat English muffins than whole-wheat hamburger buns.


  • More on Washington’s farewell address and religion.

    In the last post I asked:  Who, specifically, was George Washington referring to in his farewell address when he warned the young nation to beware of those who would separate religion and morality or who would undermine both?

    In the comboxes at that post, commenter Ray from MN suggests that he was thinking not of any factions in the United States, but rather of the anti-religionists, and anti-established-religion-ists, who had come to power during the French Revolution.  Sounds plausible to me — I would think that the leaders of the young United States would have been closely watching the events in France.  Anyone else concur?

    See:  The Wikipedia entry "Dechristianization of France during the French Revolution."


  • Primary sources.

    In response to my last post describing my plan for American History, commenter Christy linked a website with a number of history teaching resources.  A short article on reading primary sources got my attention, if only because I’d recently grabbed a slim Dover paperback of significant American political speeches and writings, most of which I’d never read before, and read them aloud to Mark during a long drive.  I picked it up to energize myself about teaching American history, my education in which was more than a little short on primary sources and a little long on drum-beating and reading agenda-driven fictional accounts (commenter Christy will know what I mean) and which ended somewhere in the Truman administration when June arrived sooner than the teacher was apparently expecting.

    So I started with Andrew Jackson’s veto of the Bank Bill, which startled us because neither Mark nor I had remembered anything at all about that; read Patrick Henry’s "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, which makes me want to read more speeches by him; read Jefferson’s inaugural address (which appears to end with a veryJeffersonian version of "…and God bless the United States of America"); and went on with one of the Federalist Papers.  All very interesting, and surprisingly timely.  (Briefly:  Grumblings about special interest groups are not a recent development.  Neither are speechwriters.)  These are definitely not accessible to a third-grader.  I wonder if the average third-grade teacher has read them.  I would hope that the high school history teachers have.  Wonder why we were never assigned any of these to read?

    (To be sure, when I find some primary sources that are accessible to a third-grader, I’ll be bookmarking them.  And I will be thinking ahead:  as I find documents that I absolutely want to be part of my future high-schoolers’ education, I’ll save them, and try to make sure they get the writer’s biography as a middle-schooler.)

    So here’s a specific question, along the lines of the ones we’re supposed to be asking about our primary sources.  So far, the document in the book that held my attention the most is Washington’s farewell address (turns out that it’s not really an address; it wasn’t delivered as a speech, but was rather printed up and distributed generally; and also turns out that it was heavily co-written and redacted by James Madison, John Jay, and Alexander Hamilton). 

    In it, Washington literally warns future Americans not to fall prey to a number of specific political dangers and so lose their liberty.  I won’t go into them (that would be ridiculous when the original document is right here) but I want to point out the one that I have the most questions about, context wise.  I can see why Washington is worried about most of them.  But what specific threat did he have in mind when, in this political speech with unity as its main point — this speech that would lose its force if he directly attacked any significant faction — when he wrote this dire warning?

    Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all their connections with private and public felicity. Let it simply be asked: Where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the oaths which are the instruments of investigation in courts of justice ? And let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle.

    It is substantially true that virtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular government. The rule, indeed, extends with more or less force to every species of free government. Who that is a sincere friend to it can look with indifference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the fabric?

    So what I want to know is, who did Washington think was "labor[ing] to subvert" religion and morality?  Is this a general warning, or is he obliquely referring to a specific issue of the time?  I make the following guesses in near-complete ignorance.  Is he thinking of people who were opposed to a state-established religion?  Is he thinking of members of particular sects?  Was there some group or individual trying to make a point that one can have morality without religion, and who were they?  Does that mean "morality without religion" or does it mean "morality without a religion?" 

    I know I blog about religion a lot, so you may be thinking that it’s that interest that highlighted the passage.  But really, it just struck me, more than did the other warnings in the document, as a passage that I don’t understand sufficiently because of obviously necessary contextual information that I utterly lack.

    ADDED:  An accessible version.  Writing a "translation" like this — there are many good choices of document — sounds like a pretty good high school assignment to me.

    ADDED:  And who could forget H. L. Mencken’s classic version of the Declaration of Independence?  (which kind of needs to be retranslated at this point — he wrote it in 1923, and the only thing I remember about the IWW is the word "Wobblies", and it contains… insensitive language.)


  • History.

    This has happened before:  As soon as we get well settled into the rhythm of the school year, I’m thinking of the next one.  Not because I’m super organized — I think it’s a form of procrastination.  There are a dozen more urgent projects on my plate right now, and it’s just so much more pleasant to leaf through the curriculum catalogs and dream about far-off third grade.  (I think this is one of the reasons that, despite it being my favorite season, I’ve never managed to celebrate Advent in our school year  more than the bare minimum of wreath-lighting.  When the first Sunday of Advent arrives I’ve been too busy thinking about next September, and I’m ransacking the attic for the stub-end of a purple candle while Mark is setting the table for Sunday dinner.)

    Anyway, what’s been on my mind mostly is history.  It’s time to take the long range view and see how studying different periods of history will fit together.  I made up my mind to cover world history in the cycle suggested by the Pandia Press History Odyssey sequence: ancient, medieval, early-modern, modern, repeat.  This doesn’t leave room for a history year dedicated to U. S. history, so I think I’m going to break U. S. history into three chunks — somehow — and cover it concurrently for third, fifth, and sixth grades.  Fourth grade we’ll do Minnesota history. 

    The Minnesota Historical Society publishes its own elementary school state history curriculum, which I likely will use.  The whole country is another story.  I’m not optimistic about finding a satisfactory U. S. history curriculum complete with text — though if anyone knows of a well-written "living" survey text of U.S. history, even an older one, along the same lines of A Child’s History of the World, please pass it on.  I think I’m going to cover U. S. history "topically," roughly chronologically, for the elementary school years, mostly with books from the library.  I took a similar approach this year when we decided to study earth science.

    I’ll start by getting a college-level survey text or study guide.  The Barron’s The Easy Way series is what I used for earth science; they have one for U. S. history and I suppose I will check it out first.  That’s just to guide me in the selection of material to cover so I don’t inadvertently leave anything out.  Then I’ll break the chronology into topics and set a rough schedule of how long to spend on each one.  Finally I’ll work from lists of high-quality, living books to develop a list of read-alouds and independent reading that cover each topic.  Primary sources will be a big chunk of the read-alouds.   I expect to use more biography than anything else, in part because Oscar likes biography, in part because there are plenty of biographies of significant Americans written for children, and in part because biographies tend to be some of the better-written history for children.    I think I’ll use a fair amount of historical fiction too.  I doubt we’ll need to do much work beyond reading, narration, and discussion, though some interesting projects may present themselves along the way.

    One thing I would like to do is choose a common thread of development on which to hang all of the historical facts, some tiny area of history that evolved continuously and which can be followed all the way through, something in which changes drive other changes.  Mark and I came up with a few of those on our way down.  Agricultural technology is one idea, and one I like a lot for these years because it’s concrete.  Monetary policy is another one, vastly important and something I would like to know more about, but I think too abstract for elementary school.  Military technology and theory is a third one, also appealing.  There is the collective concept of the scope of political rights, how they have expanded and contracted over the years, how they might expand or contract in the future.   Another good one might be the shifting of power among the three branches of government, or among municipal, state, and federal government plus international alliances.


  • Hamburger soup.

    Yesterday I planned to make Mark’s favorite long-simmered lentil soup, but my errands took longer than I wanted and I didn’t get home until 6 p.m.  "I’ll figure something out," I told Mark, and indeed I did — what I came up with surprised everyone, it was so good.  It helped that I had the good beef stock ready to go, of course, but the rest of the ingredients were the odds and ends from fridge and freezer. Yes, I just happened to have four parsnips in my fridge, and don’t try to substitute carrots, because parsnips will give your soup a wonderful sweetness.   I’m writing this recipe down and saving it.

    Like most of my invented recipes, it’s really an adaptation of a different "hamburger soup" recipe for which I had similar ingredients but not all the right ones.   If you want it to be done quickly — like I did last night — make sure the vegetables are cut into small pieces. 

    Hamburger Vegetable Soup – 6 servings – 45 minutes to 1 hour.

    • Olive oil
    • 1 lb ground beef
    • 1 large onion, chopped
    • 3 ribs celery, chopped
    • 4 parsnips, peeled and sliced thinly
    • 2 carrots, peeled and sliced thinly (or use all parsnips)
    • 1 – 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes with added puree
    • 1 quart beef stock
    • 1/4 medium cabbage, shredded (about 3 cups)
    • 1 to 1.5  cup or so frozen sweet corn kernels
    • 1 tsp dried basil
    • 1 tsp dried thyme
    • Salt and pepper to taste

    In a soup pot, cook beef and onion in olive oil over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until beef is browned, 5-7 minutes.  Stir in celery, parsnips, and carrots and cook a few minutes more.  Mix in crushed tomatoes, beef stock, cabbage, corn, basil, and thyme.  Heat to boiling.  Reduce heat to medium, cover, and simmer 20-40 minutes until vegetables are tender.  Add salt and pepper to taste.

    Seriously, we could not believe how good it was.  Adding crushed saltine crackers to the bowls made it into really fabulous comfort food.  The cabbage and root vegetables make it a complete meal, what with the green veg and the yellow.  And notice that (without the crackers) it’s gluten free, but still nice and thickened from the starch coming out of the corn.


  • The Christian life (100-150 AD).

    Lest you think, based on the previous post, that everything posted at the Holy Whapping is silly, check out this wonderful post from Drew that highlights a contemporary (that is, a second-century) description of the similarities and differences between the lives of the early Christians and the lives of their fellows.