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].


  • How interesting. I will have to think about that some more.

    A couple of days ago on one of my mailing lists, a question (not aimed specifically at me) came through:  What do you say when someone tells you that global warming is a myth?  It’s an interesting question, less so for its specific content than for its general case.  How do we articulate that general case? 

    The general case is not "What do you say when someone tells you that [X] is a myth?",  where X is a belief that you hold to be true.  Global warming isn’t a "belief," it’s a single noun.  For [X] to be a "belief" (or a "myth" for that matter) it would have to be a complete sentence.  So Global warming as used in that construction really has to be a stand-in for some complete sentence, or even for an entire manifesto.  The speaker of the original statement (Global warming is a myth) is using shorthand, according to a definition or system of definitions that exists in her own mind, and that the hearer (who poses the question What do you say when someone tells you global warming is a myth?) needs to access in order to respond logically.

    So the general case is really, "What do you say when someone tells you that [X] is a myth?",  where X is a term that, in the "someone’s" mind, stands for a set of statements P = {P1, P2, …, Pn}.

    Here is where most hearers, and most people ready to answer the hearer’s question "What do you say?", make an incorrect assumption: X in the speaker’s mind stands for the same thing that it does in my mind (the hearer’s mind), i. e., the set of statements Q = {Q1, Q2, …, Qn}.

    You can see where this is going to go.  Nowhere useful, unless it happens that there are a lot of {Px = Qy}.

    That’s why, when someone tells you "X is a myth," the first thing you have to say is "Tell me exactly what you mean by X."  And don’t proceed until you are satisfied that you understand, not X, but P.

    Let’s get back to that global warming question.  The original speaker, who said, "Global warming is a myth," may have meant any of the following things or perhaps something else:

    1. She might mean, "I do not believe that the Earth is warmer now on average than it was 100 years ago."
    2. She might mean, "I do not believe that the Earth is warmer now on average than it was 10,000 years ago."
    3. She might mean, "Although I believe that the Earth is warmer now on average than it was sometime in the past, I am not convinced that the temperature jump is statistically significant compared to the background noise of natural temperature variations."
    4. She might mean, "Whether or not the Earth is warmer now on average than it was sometime in the past, I am not convinced that the cause is primarily man-made."
    5. She might mean, "Whether or not the Earth is warmer now on average than it was sometime in the past, and whether or not the cause is primarily man-made, I do not perceive the danger to be significant."
    6. She might mean, "Whether or not the Earth is warmer now than in the past, and whether or not the danger to me is significant, I do not believe that the solutions that are usually recommended are likely to make a difference."
    7. She might mean, "Whether or not the Earth is warmer now than in the past, and whether or not the danger to me is significant, I believe that the solutions that are usually recommended are likely to be more harmful than beneficial."

    Or she might mean some combination of those, or something else.  Perhaps the hearer disagrees with the speaker.  Perhaps the hearer does not.  But this question — whether the hearer disagrees with the speaker — is logically independent of whether P is equivalent to Q, i.e., whether the term X means the same thing to both interlocutors.

    To find out if they agree or disagree, the hearer first has to find out from the speaker what is P, and mentally substitute it into the speaker’s statement so that it becomes "P is a myth."  Then, and not until then, they can have an argument.  Assuming that they have anything to argue about.

    But back to the hearer’s question.  What do you say when someone tells you that [X] is a myth?  Supposing that P has been substituted and the hearer disagrees.  Two further considerations are: 

    1. Does the hearer know any facts that are (this is important!) established by an authority that both interlocutors accept and that are relevant to her specific objections?
    2. Does the hearer have any well-considered opinions that are relevant to her specific objections?

    If not, that’s the time to say "How interesting.  I will have to think about it some more." 



  • IowaHawk reimagine the Star Tribune.

    Lileks reports on the St. Paul City Council… and Raymond Chandler covers the police blotter, Hunter S. Thompson gets Pee Wee baseball, Sylvia Plath the weather report, and "Bill Shakepeare" the wedding announcements.

    BOB LARSON
    I bid you a good evening, dear guests! Empty thy goblets and make thee to bed, for prithee on the morrow our daughter fair Amber dons her final maiden-gown and taketh for her groom fine young Ryan at the Chapel of St. Marks, Lutheran.

    DAVE LARSON
    As surely as she has doff’d it many times, good brother. Doest thou in thy foolery yet insist thy daughter is of her maidenhead still possess’d? The dormitory walls of Bemiji State still resound with tales of her purity forsaken and wanton trysts engaged. Fetch unto me another tankard, wench!

    OLIVE GARDEN SERVING WENCH
    Would’st thou I leave it on thy tab?

    h/t Insty.


  • “Responsible parenthood…

    …is exercised both by those who raise a numerous family with prudent and generous deliberation, and by those who, for weighty reasons and with due respect to moral precepts, decide to avoid a new birth for a defined period of time and even indefinitely."

    Great piece in Homiletic & Pastoral Review about how (among English-speaking Catholics) the misconception arose that using natural family planning to avoid pregnancy is only licit in extremely dangerous situations.  As Greg put it over at HMS Blog, "It’s time to bury the phrase grave reasons."

    I have been fairly active on NFP mailing lists, and moderated a few, and I’ve always been impressed by the persistence of this myth.  The author of the piece, Angela Bonilla, not only puts it decisively  to rest (the encyclical Humanae Vitae says, essentially, that the decision to avoid pregnancy carries moral weight and must be seriously considered) but also helpfully explains how a hasty, early translation gained dominance over the official Latin version and over other, more correct translations in the English-speaking world.

    Interesting not only to fans of HVand moral theology, but also to anyone who likes translation and language, as it goes into great detail about the linguistic variations among Latin, English, and Italian versions of the document.

    I was particularly struck by Ms. Bonilla’s argument that words meaning "either…or" really need to be rendered in English as "both…and" in order to capture the correct shade of meaning.  I immediately recognized this dilemma as a problem of the intersection of Boolean logic with meanings in common use.  "Either…or," mathematically speaking, can mean "both…and," or to be more precise, if not more clear, "either…or" means either "both…and" or "either…or."


  • Like an atlatl.

    MJ (9mo) is sporting a new bandage today.  Yesterday I asked Hannah to keep an eye on the kids while I went outside to fiddle with the carseat; I was almost done when I heard the screen door slam and Hannah was calling me to come take my baby.  "Is she sad?" I asked, emerging from the van, and then I saw the blood all over Hannah’s shirt.

    MJ was already cleaned up, her right eye caught as if in mid-blink with a band-aid over the lid and brow.  Hannah explained that Milo (3) had come into the room brandishing a long-handled toy with a small metal bucket rattling upturned over the end of the handle.  He’d announced "I’m going to throw this at the baby!" and then ("like a trebuchet, no, like an atlatl," explained Hannah) had flung the bucket across the room.

    The edge hit MJ in the face before Hannah could do anything.  She had picked her up and seen the baby’s eye was a mass of blood (an image that still makes me cringe in horror), but didn’t panic and dabbed away the blood to reveal that the cut was just above MJ’s eye, between the lid and the brow.   MJ didn’t want to have anything to do with a cold compress and was much happier with a band-aid.  As soon as the bleeding had stopped Hannah had brought her out to me.

    I took her in to the doctor just in case (there being an eye nearby and all) and he pronounced the 2-cm laceration "superficial."  I declined glue for the cut; the nurse helped me put a fresh bandage on her; we went home, where dinner was waiting.

    I didn’t go out of my way to punish Milo.  Coming up against a three-year-old, even one with wrathful intent, is kind of like walking into a door or tree branch:  it’s more a force of nature than anything else.  Besides, all my energy was directed towards comforting MJ and then getting her to the doctor (I dropped the boys off at Mark’s office on the way).  When I got home I took Milo on my lap and we talked about how I often tell him that throwing hard toys is dangerous, and today he had seen why. 

    I asked him just now:  If someone asks what happened to MJ’s face, what will you say?

    A bucket hit her in the face.

    Did the bucket jump up and hit her in the face all by itself?

    Yeeeeeeesssss….

    Come on.  (I smile slyly.) Do buckets jump up and hit people?

    He grins.  Noooooooo.

    How did the bucket hit her?

    Very hard so that she was bleeding.

    No, I mean, who made the bucket fly through the air to hit her?

    I did.

    Why did you throw the bucket?

    Because I wanted to.

    Is it a good idea to throw a bucket?

    No.

    Why not?

    Because it might be hurt.

    Because somebody might be hurt.  Is that what you mean?

    Right.

    Are you going to do it again?

    Nope.

    Well.  We’ll see if that sank in at all.

    I got home and told Mark what had happened.  "It was like a trebuchet!" I said.

    "No," he corrected me, "like an atlatl."


  • Shame.

    The priest who officiated at my wedding has been laicized by the Vatican because of sexual misconduct — specifically, the sexual exploitation of teenage boys.

    Yuck.  H/t Rich Leonardi, source of all my Cincinnati Archdiocese info.

    UPDATE.  No, this is not grounds for an annulment. 


  • Sex education.

    My 6-y-o suddenly asked me yesterday one of the corollaries to the "where babies come from" question.  I posted about his question and my answer on HMS Blog.

    I do not think we can consider too carefully our answers to these questions.  When our kids ask us questions about sexuality, we have to be candid without revealing details of anyone’s private life; we have to be accurate without overloading a child with facts they’re too young to process.  And given our culture’s confusion and outright rejection of morality surrounding sexuality we must ground everything we say in Christian love.  We may have to provide biological details, and when it comes time to provide them we shouldn’t fear them; but we can’t ever let a richness in clinical details take the place of a richness in moral context.

    Nor can we pretend that babies "are made" in a moral context.  There have always been kids who came from abnormal families.  When I was a child, that chiefly meant broken homes:  friends whose parents were divorced, who lived with mom and mom’s boyfriend, who had older stepsiblings they saw on weekends.  Now there are even more examples.  Sooner or later our kids will befriend a child who has two moms or two dads, or a child whose never-married mom paid someone to inseminate her, or a child chosen for her good genes to be the sole survivor out of all her embryonic siblings.  Later on our teenager may have a pregnant friend who struggles with the decision to abort, adopt, or to raise a child; face it, our own child may make such a decision.   

    Our answers have to leave us room to explain these situations, to provide a context for understanding them.  Above all, we must get across the point that every child is good, every child is worthy of love, whatever the circumstances that brought him into life.  And we must get across the simultaneous point that (precisely because a child is worthy of love!) deliberately choosing, or choosing to risk, certain circumstances for a child is wrong.  That the reason for sexual restraint, and now sometimes for technological restraint, is love. 

    The answers we give a six-year-old lay the foundation for the answers we can give a ten-, a twelve-, a sixteen-year-old.   

    It is so helpful to remember that we do not have to answer everything at once.  The conventional wisdom about sex education when I was a child attending public school was, "Give them all the biological details good and early so that they don’t learn the wrong things on the playground."  Said biological details included lots of information about birth control and some outright falsehoods (I distinctly remember being taught that girls could get pregnant at any time and there was no way to know a time when you would be safe from getting pregnant; I also remember in a sex-ed session that our Girl Scout troop attended, a girl asking, "Does sexual intercourse hurt?" and the instructor answering that it would certainly hurt if you did it in the back of a car.  There went her credibility.  We were eleven, not stupid.)

    I digress. We have time to let the story unfold.  I’m not going to start my kids’ physics education with the Schrodinger equation; Newtonian physics is a fine place to start.  And I’m not going to start my kids’ sex education either with intense explanation of the details of sexual intercourse or with an intricate description of the moral theology of contraception.  This conversation will recur and recur over a period of years.

    But we still have to be vigilant — some things may have to be explained sooner than we’d like, because of particular situations we come up against.  It’s a little bit easier when we homeschool, because then there’s not the problem of the school deciding to introduce a subject before our particular child is mature enough to handle it (a problem that Catholic schools aren’t exempt from).

    Anyway, if your child hasn’t asked The Big Question yet — or if there’s any question at all you expect to have to answer with confidence and delicacy — do yourself a favor and write out your answer ahead of time, so you can be ready when the time comes. 


  • Toe the line.

    Before I encountered the Internet, I occasionally used the phrase "to toe the line" to mean "to conform," and never thought anything about it.

    Once I entered the world of Usenet, back in the Middle Ages (I wish I could lay claim to having been there during the Dark Ages), I started questioning myself, because I occasionally saw the phrase spelled "to tow the line."  Which is it?  Both sort of make sense:  to line up with many others behind a mark, or to take one’s part in dragging the burden behind you.

    A little Google work convinced me I was right before.  "toe the line"

    Searching for "tow the line," however, turns up nearly a third as many references.  It’s an up-and-coming eggcorn!


  • In which I brainstorm a list of things to occupy the three-year-old while I work with the six-year-old on school.

    Yes, some of these things are messy, but at least it will be the mess I have chosen.  In parentheses:  the necessary supplies for each activity.

    • Watercolor painting (paintbox, cup, water, cookie tray, several towels)
    • Playdough (playdough, cookie cutters, rolling pin, knife, toothpicks)
    • Practice with training chopsticks (cheerios or small candies, trainer chopsticks, tray, bowl)
    • Lacing (lacing board, strings)
    • New building toy that will hold interest more than old, familiar Duplos (gotta buy one)
    • Making mayonnaise sandwiches  (loaf of cheap bread, butter knife, jar of cheap mayonnaise — yes, it’s wasteful of food, but it doesn’t cost any more than letting him cut up whole packs of construction paper.  Thanks to Melissa for the idea)
    • Cutting construction paper (scissors, tray, paper)
    • Sticking stickers to paper (one of those packs of a thousand stickers, paper)
    • Water pouring (pitchers, cups, dish tub, tray, a whole lot of towels)
    • Mixing his own play dough (a few no-cook recipes here).

    More?


  • Yep. Me too.

    Julie has posted a quote at Happy Catholic that hit home, about the prayer God, show me a sign that You exist.

    I wonder how many people have tried this prayer and received no response that satisfied them.  I wonder how many people have tried it and been satisfied.  I think I’ve heard more testimony from people who believe their request was satisfied, but then, that would stand to reason.

    Of course, there are many believers who never prayed such a prayer because they have possessed faith all their lives.  What do they think of such testimony?


  • Star Tribune? What’s that?

    Some business moves are so jaw-droppingly short-sighted, you wonder why the place doesn’t just save time and fold now.

    Let’s review:  (1) More and more people are getting their national news and commentary from various outlets on the Internet, not to mention other alternative media.  (2) The circulation rates of local newspapers are falling.   (3) The one advantage that the local paper has over national papers is its coverage of local news and the talent of its local columnists and cartoonists, who supply the local point of view on national issues, commentary on local issues, and (perhaps most importantly) a locus of brand loyalty from readers who want to know what their favorite columnist has to say.

    Well, there’s always the Daily Jumble, too, I suppose.

    Here we go:  The Star Tribune is killing its columnists’ columns and re-assigning them to be — reporters.

    Straight news!  Yes, reporters.  On news beats.  No kidding.

    Among those who are going to be reassigned:  apparently, Nick Coleman, Doug Grow, Cheryl "C.J." Johnson, Katherine Kersten, and — unbelievable! — James Lileks.

    (As far as I know only Lileks has confirmed publicly that his column has been canceled.)

    The entire blogosphere has stirred into life at the news of Lileks’ job being transferred, probably because it confirms what we all believe about Old Media.  Lileks has symbolic value, because what distinguishes him as a newspaper employee (besides his sheer talent as a humorous and his flawless execution of the turn-of-phrase) is his embrace of the new media.   They should be asking to show them the way.   Now how do you use this here flibbertigibbet, boy?  But instead they’ve got him behind a desk.  (A real one — he’s not even allowed to telecommute anymore!)

    Lileks is the star, of course, and he’s getting all of the attention; but the other columnists serve niches at the paper, too.  Nick Coleman and Doug Grow write tirelessly about local issues, mainly from a liberal point of view, often telling a personal story that puts a human face on some local controversy.  Johnson’s is the gossip column, and while I can’t stand it, surely somebody out there loves to read about who was seen wearing what where and with whom — and they’re not going to get Minnesota gossip at the NYT online site, trust me.  Katherine Kersten is the local conservative columnist, again writing about local issues and the impact of national issues on Minnesotans.

    These columns (except the gossip one) are just about all that’s left to read at the paper.  I still get the Sunday paper — I don’t have time to read it every day — in part so I can read about Minnesota stuff in one handy, portable, all-contained format. 

    I guess I could start getting the Pioneer Press.


  • Past, present, and future.

    Today while driving, I heard a bit of Fr. Corapi’s radio show.  He was explaining how Catholics don’t believe that each Mass is a repetition of Christ’s sacrifice at Calvary or that Christ dies anew at each Mass (a charge often leveled at us by Protestants), but rather that the Mass is one with Christ’s sacrifice at Calvary. 

    I knew that, but I don’t remember hearing it put the way he did on that show — that at Mass, God "makes the sacrifice of Jesus present" to us.

    Or maybe I did, but I had always thought of "present" in the sense of "in our presence."  I guess that is true, but now I see there’s something more to it.

    Fr. Corapi went on to explain to his audience that Christ did the same thing at the Last Supper — made his sacrifice on Calvary "present" to those in the room.  The sacrifice on Calvary hadn’t happened yet.  Obviously that wasn’t a repetition!  Obviously then Jesus didn’t "die anew!"  And, of course, we believe that at Mass, God through the priest does the same thing that He did at the Last Supper.

    What He did then was make that sacrifice on Calvary "present" — instead of future.  And today at Mass He makes it "present" instead of past.

    Yes, here instead of there, but also now instead of then.  God transcends time.   Past, present, and future are one to Him.  And so He can do this for us.