Thoroughly Modern Davie

I know there are people--a lot of people--who venerate the past.  For them, the glorious past is embodied in figures such as Plato and Aristotle, or Washington and Jefferson, or the apostles of Jesus.  And in each case, these people (usually male people, by the way) are considered to have knowledge, wisdom, and insight that we poor modern folks lack.  And of course, I would never argue that various iconic individuals from our past have nothing to offer--far from it.  But I am arguing that when all is said and done, I'll take more "modern" perspectives on things over ideas that are "ancient" and "traditional," because the fact of the matter is, our forebearers were ignorant in ways that today are simply mind-boggling.

Case in point: I'm reading a fascinating book that was recommended to me by someone in my running group--Destiny of the Republic by Candice Millard.  When I say it's a book chronicling the life and ultimate assassination of President James Garfield in 1881, it's tough to suppress a yawn.  But as one reads on, it's clear that Ms. Millard has chosen an interesting little niche of U.S. history to examine.

For those who weren't around in 1881, President Garfield was shot by a mentally imbalanced man named Charles Guiteau.  As it turns out, Garfield's wounds were not exactly fatal--the one bullet that was lodged in his back, near his pancreas, could have stayed permanently in the deep tissue where it rested and he would have been none the worse for it.  But, since Garfield was the President, and something certainly had to be done (it was the President, after all!), a team of doctors rallied to help in this emergency situation.  And all of them--especially the most vocal of them, a Dr. Bliss--made two tragic mistakes.  First, with both their own bare fingers and various long probes, they tried to extricate the bullet from Garfield's body, unsuccessfully.  But second--and far more disconcerting--in that era, as Millard carefully documents, U.S. physicians were extremely skeptical of the claims being made by a European doctor by the name of Lister.  Since you have heard of Listerine, you probably know where this is going: Dr. Lister had argued passionately at various public and professional meetings that doctors needed to work in an antiseptic environment because of something called GERMS.  But American doctors--most of them, anyway--would have none of it.  At this point, Candice Millard tells the story better than I can (pages 184-185):

"Although five years had passed since Lister presented his case to the Medical Congress at the Centennial Exhibition, many American doctors still dismissed not just his discovery, but even Louis Pasteur's.  They found the notion of 'invisible germs' to be ridiculous, and they refused to even consider the idea that they could be the cause of so much disease and death.  'In order to successfully practice Mr. Lister's Antiseptic Method,' on doctor scoffed, 'it is necessary to believe, or act as if we believed, the atmosphere to be loaded with germs.'"

"Why go to all the trouble that antisepsis required simply to fight something that they could not see and did not believe existed?  Even the editor of the highly respected Medical Record found more to fear than to admire in Lister's theory.  'Judging the future by the past,' he wrote, 'we are likely to be as much ridiculed in the next century for our blind belief in the power of unseen germs, as our forefathers were for faith in the influence of spirits, of certain planets and the like, inducing certain maladies.'"

"Not only did many American doctors not believe in germs, they took pride in the particular brand of filth that defined their profession.  They spoke fondly of the 'good old surgical stink' that pervaded their hospitals and operating rooms, and they resisted making too many concessions even to basic hygiene.  Many surgeons walked directly from the street to the operating room without bothering to change their clothes.  Those who did shrug on a laboratory coat, however, were an even greater danger to their patients.  They looped strands of silk sutures through their button-holes for easy access during surgery, and they refused to change or even wash their coats.  They believed that the thicker the layers of dried blood and pus, black and crumbling as they bent over their patients, the greater the tribute to their years of experience."

"Some physicians felt that Lister's findings simply did not apply to them and their patients.  Doctors who lived and worked in the country, away from the soot and grime of the industrialized cities, argued that their air was so pure they did not need antisepsis.  They preferred, moreover, to rely on their own methods of treatment, which not infrequently involved applying a hot poultice of cow manure to an open wound."


Again, the result of all this ignorance was the death of President Garfield from infections that could have easily been avoided.  Just imagine that this sort of mindset was prominent in our medical community less than a century and a half ago!  And you wonder why I have my reservations about the "founding fathers," or Cicero, or the Apostle Paul?  Yes, we continue to have our blind spots and make our mistakes.  And yes, truth is hard to come by.  But I'm grateful to be living in 2012--a year in which we believe in germs and lots of other crazy things such as carbon dating, genetic testing, the theories of evolution and relativity, what is a "normal" sexual orientation, anesthesia, x-rays, and a host of other ideas that--despite our ancestors' best intentions--were simply not on their radar.  (Oh, that's right--they didn't have radar back then!)

Getting older: truly bizarre

I've got a milestone birthday of sorts coming up in November.  On the 27th of that month, I will be eligible for Social Security.  If that doesn't make you feel a little older, I don't know what will!  (Actually, I already qualify for some "senior discounts," including the golf course that I'll be playing on tomorrow.)

In many ways, I feel as though there's still a 22-year-old trapped inside this body, and I've been doing my best to reaffirm it.  Ran a half marathon earlier this month in a slightly better time than I ran the same race eight years ago.  And at that event,  I beat a student of mine by over 30 minutes, which was a real ego boost.  And the reality is, that for a 61-year-old (gosh, it's even hard to own up to that number; I usually don't mention it), I've done OK so far.  Never a night in the hospital, never a headache, and I can still crank out 13.1 miles when I put my mind to it.  But I'm keenly aware, to use a golf metaphor, that I'm playing on the back nine.

At this point in my life, it becomes a balancing act, a kind of personal accounting, between the things that I have accomplished against all of those missed opportunities and personal failings.  Sometimes it's hard to know which side is winning out.  I don't want to live in the past, but I am constantly aware of old relationships, old memories, and all the things that I've experienced.  To let go of those memories is to let go of a lot.  And yes, sometimes I'd like a "do over," but I've come to the realization that if you put me back in those same situations in the past, I'd probably end up doing pretty much the same things all over again.  There are reasons why I am where I am, and not somewhere else.

In the end, what's hard to articulate is how truly strange it feels to be getting older.  I read the local obituaries every day, and I also notice all the various celebrities who pass on--people who were a part of my life in some way.  And I keep thinking about that famous Woody Allen notion that I'd rather not become immortal because of anything I've done--I'd like to become immortal by not dying!  I guess the latter is my plan--and so far it's working!  But it's always wise to check for lumps.

Dealing with mass insanity

OK, this is a theme that has made its way into these pages from time to time.  But because it doesn't seem to go away, I keep having to revisit it.  And that theme is: the world is a very crazy place in so many ways--some small, some big.

The small ones are like wood ticks on your leg that just don't want to let go.  For instance, there are some of my relatives who believe every word of the Bible is literally "true."  There's an old acquaintance from decades ago who refused to have coffee with me because she's married, and doing so would violate some weird principle about opposite-sex friendships.  A fair number of people in the U.S. actually believe that cavemen and dinosaurs co-mingled.  And my right-wing friend "Kyle" (see other posts) continues to send me stuff that refers to the "Socialist cabal" that is controlling America and anyone he doesn't quite agree with is a "nutjob" (with the exception of Senator Al Franken, who is a "clown"--a clown, by the way, who graduated from Harvard with honors in political science, but never mind those little details!)

And then, of course, there are the even bigger wood ticks, about the size of small puppies and engorged in blood and pus (hmm--love that image).  Same-sex marriage is already not legal in Minnesota, but let's vote on it again just to make extra sure those gays can't marry!  And let's make fast-food chicken restauranteurs our experts on scripture, and morality.  And let's keep making the tax rate for poorer Americans higher than it is for richer Americans.  And let's keep dropping bombs on people from drone aircraft, wherever we choose, all in the name of stopping "terrorism."  There's public beheadings in Saudi Arabia, genocide in Africa, female genital mutilation and gang rape all over the place--and let's not forget the President of Gambia, who believes he has a green herbal paste that's an absolute cure for AIDS!

And you wonder why I think the world is insane?  What I desperately yearn for is someone (a) who can talk sense about all these things and (b) have a platform and an audience through which to do it.  I was hoping that our current President could be such a person.  I think he has tried, but I think he could do better, all the way across the board.  My friends: we are wallowing in ignorance, strange beliefs, and downright evil behavior, and I don't see it ending anytime soon.  Thank goodness, at least, that I'm in education--if there is any long-term remedy for this foolishness, I really do think it resides in the classroom.  But we're at least one or two generations away from any sort of widespread "sanity," I'm afraid.