11,472. RUDIMENTS, pt. 565

RUDIMENTS, pt. 565
(it's all by design)
I no longer understand why

we allow ourselves to live

in such a wildly out of

control country. From

fourth grade on I was

taught each of those

shining shibboleths to

which we were exposed

actually meant something.

They do not, in fact, mean

anything at all. In third grade

there was a large photograph

of the President on the wall,

framed and displayed there

constantly. Every morning,

the pledge of allegiance and

then a reading from the Bible

to open the school day. This

is, mind you, in Avenel School

4&5, right there on Avenel

Street. They don't do that

any more; but then again we

never had the doors locked

on us, while we were inside,

nor did we have the daily cop

car parked out front. That's

how, excuse my French, but

I know you do understand

French, fucked up things

have become. If you tried

that Bible stuff now, you'd

be arrested. It was all very

confusing anyway, especially

since this President guy,

Eisenhower looked to be

a spit-double for the school

Principal, Mr. Lund. I was

always confused.

-

I've always been in awe of

something that's stayed with

me for, I guess, 66 years now.

Since I was 4, in Spring '54

I guess it was. Back then

(they've since built a newer,

extended portion of the school

over it, rounding the bend onto

Inman Avenue), there used

to be a parking lot, used by

the teachers. It was real simple,

not paved at all. I well remember

Miss Stein's '55 Ford, in black,

and Mr. Roloff's '59 Lincoln,

in some hideous blue or pink,

sitting there. Anyway, my

mother and I were walking

along that path-area, on the

way to the local grocer guy

at the corner (way before the

Avenel Street Shop-Rite was in

place). It was not a paved

parking lot, in the macadam

or tar sense. The use of coal

to heat the school allowed the

opportunity of spreading the

cinders (hard, little, burned

pieces of fired coal-ash) down

as the surface coating. It was

probably better than paving

actually, for traction, cost and

replenishment  -  and it made
a cool, crunching sound when
the cars ran over it. Anyway,

realizing I was about to enter

school there the next year, I

said something to my mother

like 'What do they do there?

What will I be doing?' It

was just a basic, simple, kid's

question. In the same way,

my basic, simple, mother, in

her reply to me  -  as I hear

it now, still, to this day  -

perfectly encapsulates the

thinking and thought-process

(utility, I guess) of her mind.

She said, 'Like with these cinders,

they'll teach you how to make

things from them.' Of course

they would do no such thing,

but I understand what she was

getting at. To her mind, using

her inductive reasoning, it made

perfect sense  -  these cinders

were a 'thing' to be used and

handled, and learning or

instruction could only mean

to make something from them.

It was blatantly simple logic.

It was also almost criminally

dumb and ill-informed, but,

whatever for that. Of what

other use, in her mind, could

'schooling' be except to learn

how to make something from,

if not nothing, than from the

cast-offs surrounding you. Right
across the way, there was a
lumber yard, piled high with
boards and lumber. My kid's 
mind went racing  -  those were 
boards, they used to be trees, 
now they're cut, and from them
come houses, made from them.
What a world! I didn't yet know
'cause and effect', nor even the
idea of 'utilization' but I guessed
so much more was coming! It's

apparent now why I had so much

trouble with my parents, trying

to get them to both somehow

understand that I was on past

another point quite afar from

utility. And that no one or

no thing from a 'system' of

erratics  -  like a municipal

and enforced school system

was  -  would ever be of any

use to me beyond the basics

of ABC and 123. Oh, Mom,

poor Mom.

-

Some time in the 60's a guy

named Jack Valenti, who had

worked for President Lyndon

Johnson, in some capacity,

was appointed head of the

new Motion Picture Rating

System, or whatever it

was called. Movies were

getting more risque, and no

one wanted little Johnny to

be let in to stare at breasts

for 2 hours. So they came up

with some flooey rating system,

like ranging from XX porn

to Adult to Teens, or whatever

it was. I don't know. However,

there was one category called

PG, which was 'parental guidance.'

You had to have a parent with

you, or permission, or some

stupid thing like that. In any

case, back to my mother, I

used that category as my key

to distinguish 'inductive' versus

'deductive' reasoning. The

one (inductive) is when you

go from a 'particular' instance

and draw a broad general

conclusion from it, and the

other (deductive) is when

you begin with a broad

observation and go particular

from it. An example, of

inductive, for instance:

'Harold is a Grandfather.

Harold is bald. Therefore

all Grandfathers are bald.'

using the movie code thing,

I went PG=in. Meaning if

your parents said it was OK,

you went IN to the movie. It

also meant, PG-In, as in

'Particular to the General

equals IN (inductive reasoning).

Anyway, that's how I clarified

that distinction for myself.

I guess I had a little bit of

my mother's strange logic

in me after all.

-

It seems like there's a shortcut

to everything, if you just find it.

I found plenty of them BUT, I

also found  -  and just as well  - 

that a shortcut to a dead end

hasn't much value, though it

will get you there just the same.

-

One last thing here, on that word I

used in the beginning: 'shibboleth.'

A lot of people will make a face, a

grimace, (and I've had a lot of that)

over my use of such a word. Gratuitous

use of a big word, and, maybe, yeah.

But, since I'm the one writing this

I can do as I please and the reason 

I planted that word in the very 

beginning of this chapter is so that,

just as I'm here doing, I can go back

to it and end not with a whmper but

with a bang. Like God, it's all in the

invisible design. 'The Bible's Book 

of Judges (12:4-6) tells the story 

of the Ephraimites, who, after 

they were routed by the Gileadite 

army, tried to retreat by sneaking 

across a ford of the Jordan 

River that was held by their

their enemy. The Gileadites, 

wary of the ploy, asked every 

soldier who tried to cross 

if he was an Ephraimite. 

When the soldier said "no," he 

was asked to say "shibboleth" 

(which means "stream" in Hebrew). 

Gileadites pronounced the 

word shibboleth, but Ephramites 

said "sibboleth." Anyone who 

left out the initial "sh" was 

killed on the spot. When 

English speakers first borrowed 

"shibboleth," they used it to 

mean "test phrase," but it has 

acquired additional meanings 

since that time.' Now, I ask

you, isn't that pretty cool, and
a great system of Justice too?