I'M STUPID---HOW ABOUT YOU?

I have just read an article in The Daily Telegraph which confirms some suspicions I have sensed in an abstract way without having the data to support these suspicions. A new book, “The Shallows: How the Internet Is Changing the Way We Think and Remember” is being published by Nicholas Carr, who also wrote this article in the newspaper entitled “How the internet is making us stupid”.

His premise is that the fathomless depth of information available today on the internet is confusing and changing the way we think. To quote Mr. Carr: “A growing body of scientific evidence suggests that the net, with its constant distractions and interruptions, is turning us into scattered and superficial thinkers.”

Carr believes that scientific evidence demonstrates that we are losing our ability for deep and long-term thinking because of the short-term emphasis on brief hits of information and stimulation which cause us to lose the ability to focus for longer periods of time.

He cites various scientific tests in support of this premise. For example, at Stanford they gave cognitive tests to a group who used the internet for media multitaskings and to another group who don’t multitask so frequently. They found that the group who do not mulltitask on the net so much did much better on the tests while the multitask performed poorly. At another American University, unnamed, they had half the students at a lecture allowed to browse on their laptops while the other half could not; a subsequent test showed that those without the computers understood the lecture’s content much better than those with the laptops. Another study at U.C.L.A.’s Children’s Digital Media Center showed that studies indicated that the computer tasks like video games increased the speed at which the children could shift their attention to icons and other screen images but also resulted in less rigorous and more “automatic” thinking. Some scientists make the case that this constant barrage of bits of information is changing the neural patterns of our brains and slowing the long-term cognitive functioning of brains.

I find that I really have to force myself to concentrate when , for example, I am reading a book, much more so that in my earlier life. Some of that may be attributed to age, but I suspect that becoming exposed to the barrage of information on the net could also have an effect on my concentration.

So, just be aware. internet user; I know I’m dumber---maybe you are, too!

DON'T TREAD ON MY MEMORIES

I have come to the realization, particularly in my elder years, that many of the ideals by which I have lived are outmoded or obsolete by contemporary standards of the young. History, for example, the study of the past which has so often been useful in furnishing guiding lights for the future, is neglected. “The past is a bucket of ashes ,” wryly noted the poet T.S. Eliot. How many of the young today know more than the barest of bones about their own country? You would be astounded by the number of people in America who don’t know where Canada or Mexico is located, or able to name cities in those neighboring countries, not to mention have any knowledge of their histories.

In terms of history, World War II is one of my most vivid memories, not because I participated in it---I just missed it--, but because my late childhood and teen-age years ensued during the period from 1939 to 1945. The memories are etched deeply because my two older brothers were involved in that hellish conflagration, the middle brother killed in the Phillippines and the eldest shot down but, fortunately surviving and returning home. When you have those traumas as part of your life, you never forget the significance of the events of that war. I can still name the major areas of conflict and battles within those theatres of war; I can remember many of the paramount generals and admirals of the war; I can remember most of the planes, Allied and Fascist by their designation: I.e,., P-51 Mustang, B-26 Liberator (my brother was Navigator in one), P-38 Lightning, P-47 Thunderbolt, B-17 Flying Fortress, Messerschmitt 109, Focke -Wulf Spitfire, Hurricane, Zero, et. al. My British wife has her memories of being evacuated from a London suburb and living for some months in the country away from the bombings and from her mother, her father being away serving in the R.A.F.

With a trove of memories from this great conflict, which preserved and in many ways shaped this world of today, I am deeply saddened---and angered---by the ignorance of many, old and young, who simply don’t know or care about it. And I am infuriated when I read about those who desecrate those memories. In England recently, a young woman, flanked by lines of former servicemen, outside the Magistrates’ Court in Blackpool, raced down the line and urinated and performed sexual act at the town’s centotaph. Two other cases of pissing on memorials have occurred here, as well as a Muslim spraying graffiti in glorifying Osama Bin Laden on another memorial. I am confident similar offenses have occurred in the U.S.A. I realize many are disillusioned and expressing anti-war sentiments, but it is foul and, yes, evil to sully the honored dead. Protest a war, fine; dishonor memories, hell no.

It would never occur to those protesters that their right to protest is in good part due to those honored dead who fought and died to preserve the freedoms we have today.

I am ashamed of their insensitivity and ignorance. Part of their punishment should be an enforced study of history, particularly the two great wars of the twentieth century. Then they should scrub the monuments, memorials and cenotaphs on a weekly basis for some weeks.

These memories are too precious to be ill-treated.

WHERE HAVE ALL THE HEROES GONE?

One of the great pleasures I enjoy is reading the obituary page of The Daily Telegraph (or any of the major British newspapers) where this type of writing is an art. The only close competitor in the U.S.A. would be The New York Times. These obit columns deal with important personages and are international in scope, not simply British. They are always well written, filled with anecdotal information as well as biographical and career details.

Frequently, they are of World War II heroes who, as you are well aware, are dying off rapidly. Tom Brokaw in his wonderful book about WWII “The Greatest Generation”, extolled this generation who saved our democracies. The British obit writers appreciate them just as much.

A special one struck my fancy yesterday in reading of the death of Billy Millin, an 88 year-old Scot, who was piper for Lord Lovat and his regiment and, at the D-Day landings, from the moment he emerged into the icy water from the landing barges playing his pipes, while the soldier directly behind him was killed as he came out of the barge, Billy waded ashore and continued marching back and forth along the beach while his Scottish comrades were landing, inspiring them with Scottish melodies. One Tommy ran up to him and exclaimed, “Yer a crazy bastard, ye are!” Billy Millin then followed his regiment into France and , while they were enduring fierce German resistance in the hedge rows of Normandy, Billy continued to march down the roads playing his inspirational songs. Soldiers were falling all around him, but he was unscathed, except for one bullet which slightly damaged his bagpipe, which was still operable. They later captured German prisoners, and one of them told him that the only reason he wasn’t shot was because they figured he was mad. Billy was depicted in the war film, “The Longest Day”, where his piping at the landing was shown.

As part of the international flavor of these obits, there was a beauty today for Bobby Thomson, Scottish-born, the creator of “the shot heard ‘round the world”, the famous home run when the New York Giants beat the Brooklyn Dodgers in a playoff game, after coming bsck from a 13 ½ game deficit in August to pull off “the miracle at Coogan”s Bluff “ (the Polo Grounds, home of the Giants). In the obit, they told that Glasgow-born Thomson and his family moved to America for greater opportunity. Bobby came out of Curtis High Scool in New York and was signed by the Giants for the handsome bonus, in those days, of $100.00! He was a bombardier in the Army Air corps during the war and did not start his career in baseball until 1946.

Yes, the old heroes are going fast. But is fun remembering them through these wonderful write-ups.

SEEN FROM HERE

It is interesting to view America from another perspective, as I can do in England.

The honeymoon for President Obama, as in the U.S.A., is over here, and he is getting his share of questioning and criticism from the journalist pundits here. His handling of the B.P. mess was particularly exacerbated, as I said in a previous blog, by his constant reference to B.P. as British Petroleum, which was a bit too personal as far as the average Brit was concerned who took it as an anti-British stance.

Several commentators have also criticized his handling of Iraq and Afghanistan, particularly feeling that he is rushing out too precipitously to bolster his ratings in the polls and the upcoming mid-term elections. Anti-war sentiment is strong here, as well, but the concern is that we should not set dates to leave and stay as a presence to assure, in the case of Iraq, that a stable government is in place and, as for Afghanistan, to render some kind of order out of chaos so that the many factions can at least talk to each other. They don’t see any kind of real victory there---and I have to agree with them on that.

Disagreement also rears its head in the handling of the economy. The Brits, under the new Conservative administration, are really going in for retrenching and tightening the belt, slashing programs, reducing budgets, cutting personnel and the like to reduce the deficit and get expenses under control. They are against priming the pump through governmental expenditures, as the emphasis has been in the U.S.A. But they also contradict themselves by talking about “QE”---not Queen Elizabeth---but Quantitative Easing so that money can be pumped into the economy. One paper referred to the recent moves of the Federal Reserve’s plan to buy long-term Treasuries to keep the economy moving as “QE-lite”. I think they are as confused as we are on how to stimulate the economy. No wonder Thomas Carlyle once referred to Economics as “the dismal science”.

Prices are high here, although they seem better to Americans here because of the strength of the dollar. Only a couple of years ago the British pound was $2.00. Now it’s $1.55 to the pound. Most food items are higher, with the exception of bread, milk and eggs. Clothing costs are high, which is why most Brits head for the mall outlets when they come to America to stock up on clothes. Their beef doesn’t compare to ours, except for the most expensive Angus beef . Their hamburgers are minced and horrible. But their bacon and sausage (called bangers) are fabulous. And I love their beer, particularly the brown ale called “bitters”. John Cleese of Monty Python fame used to refer to American beer as “half-frozen bat piss”, but he probably hadn’t seen some of the great beers coming out of some of our micro-breweries.

I love it here. By September, though, I’m ready to come home.

DON'T MISS IT!

While our eldest daughter is visiting with us in England, we thought we would go up to London for a day, take in some delightful meals and see a play. Eastbourne, where we live in the summer, is only 70-odd miles south of London with excellent and frequent train service, so it is easy to take a day trip. We left at 10:30 a.m. and were home by 10:00 p.m.

We had one of the finest theatrical experiences we’ve ever encountered in seeing the play, “War Horse”, which has won the most prestigious awards, including the Olivier Prize for best play (named for the great actor, Laurence Olivier) and the Critics Circle Award.

“War Horse” is a unique and innovative play based on a popular children’s novel (but with adult appeal, as well) about a young farm boy and his horse who develop a loving mutual bond at the time of World War I. Joey, the horse, is a large, fast and spirited animal who is conscripted into the British Cavalry. The dashing Cavalry officer who purchases him, with great misgivings from Arthur, the farm boy, promises the lad that he will take care of the horse and bring him back in a few months after the war is won, he confidently and erroneously predicts.

The cavalry office predictably is killed and the horse ends up in German hands, and by the end of the war Joey is trapped in No Man’s Land. In the meanwhile Arthur, only sixteen, lies about his age and enlists in the British Army in an effort to find Joey. He undergoes a living hell of combat experience. You can predict the happy ending..

What is so mesmerizing are puppeteers, four to a horse, who operate these fantastically “real” horses on stage. The puppeteers’ movements are balletic in their grace and you find yourself, even during dialogue by the live actors on stage, drawn to the horses who whinny, neigh, trot, gallop, rear and even nibble grass on stage. The mechanisms and levers to create this realism are complex and fascinating. Other puppeteers circle the stage, sometimes through the audience, with birds, especially vultures, and with a comical goose who is always chasing and biting some unlucky farm hand.

I’m sure it will come to New York and then go on national tour. You need a large circular revolving stage, so the logistics of showing “War Horse” will not be simple. If it is anywhere near you, DON’T MISS IT! It is an experience you will cherish.

P.S. Steven Spielberg has bought the movie rights for “War Horse”. Does that tell you something?

ENGLISH WEATHER, ANYONE?

This year has been a fabulous summer by British standards with lots of sunshine. Weather is a major topic in U.K.

A major source of delight and amusement in the U.K. is reading and/or listening to the British weather reports. They do not make simple declarative statements like sun or rain or cloudy; oh no, it is an essay or speech in which every contingency is covered. There are more disclaimers in a British weather report than in a lawyer’s brief.

A British weather report is like a politician’s promise: something for everybody. Following every newscast, much as we do in America, the weather follows. No Doppler radar and impressive graphs are shown, as our “meteorologists” proudly display on our screens; the national weatherman simply delivers the equivalent of a short oration, covering every possibility, except possibly a typhoon. They cover every nook and cranny of the British Isles from Ulster (Northern Ireland) through Scotland, Wales and England. By the time the report finishes, you have forgotten the brief section covering where you live. On regional TV covering, for example, our section of Southeast England the reports although confined to that smaller area, are almost as detailed and almost as confusing.

“Variable” is the operative word for British weather---and especially the weather reports.