One of the scariest passages in the Bible is Ezekiel 33.7-9.I first read this before I was a teenager and it scared me deeply.In case you don’t feel like clicking over to BibleGateway and searching, the pericope is a section where Yahweh is warning Ezekiel about the dangers of giving up hope (in the larger context).Ezekiel, you see, had lived through the fall of Jerusalem.Many people of Judah felt that the destruction of the temple was the end of the relationship between Yahweh and the chosen people.Ezekiel here is being warned to deliver good news.If Ezekiel doesn’t call out the lie (the sins of Israel weigh it down) he will be punished as if he were the sinner himself.I knew evangelical friends in college who lifted that verse out of context and said God would punish them if they didn’t warn the people.They weren’t so worried about the fall of Jerusalem—that was old news by the 1980s—but about some other issue they deemed important at the moment.
Taking verses out of context has a name.It’s called “prooftexting.”It can be done to just about any piece of writing, including this blog post.All it requires is finding a passage that says what you want it to and claim that it means what you say it does.The Bible’s a big, big book.Trying to understand its contents in context takes years of dedicated work.Even then biblical scholars don’t have all the answers because if they did we could all stay home and surf the net for the rest of our lives.No, engaging with sacred texts is a never-ending task, by definition.That warning to Ezekiel was for Ezekiel.What was that message?Stop saying the exile is the end!There’s more to the story.Read the book to the end and see.
The problem with prooftexting, if I might engage in a bit of it myself, is that it takes away from the totality of the Good Book itself.Not adding too or taking away from the Bible is a biblical command (taken out of context), which means that with the Bible it’s all or nothing at all.And if it’s the former, it means Ezekiel’s condemnation is contingent upon what follows.Back in biblical times there wasn’t as much reading material as there is today.It turns out, however, that there’s a lot more written down than we used to assume.If we’re going to read it we should do so within its context.But just in case, please be assured that the exile isn’t the end of the story.
Since new books are kind of rare right now, I’m reading through some of those I’ve collected but haven’t actually read.One is Near-Death Experiences: Understanding Visions of the Afterlife, by John Martin Fischer and Benjamin Mitchell-Yellin.I bought the book because the topic, as addressed by a university press book, is interesting.Fischer and Mitchell-Yellin approach the subject as philosophers.Their main focus is on the widely accessible and successful books by Eben Alexander and Todd Burpo.Also the somewhat less well known efforts of Jeffrey Long and Pim van Lommel.(Instead of taking up blog space with all these titles, just email me if you’re curious, or read my Goodreads post.)Applying standard scientific methods to spiritual experiences isn’t easy, and Fischer and Mitchell-Yellin are clear that they aren’t trying to take the value out of Near-Death Experiences (NDEs), but rather they are challenging how these authors try to make them authentic.
Philosophers parse words finely.The authors show that “real” is not the same thing as “authentic” and demonstrate how some of the more spectacular NDEs can possibly be explained by science.Those who’d temporarily died might’ve caught onto things that happened just before or just after brain activity ceased or restarted, for example, and then misremembered them.As a still-living guy who can’t remember where he left his wallet half the time, misremembering is an authentic reality.Still, I couldn’t help but wonder.Science and religion ask different questions.One of the mainstays of scientific method is Occam’s Razor—the solution that requires the least mental gymnastics to explain something is the most likely to be true.Many times this razor is flashed in the face of those trying to make a religious case for something.
Ironically, the authors here dismiss Occam’s Razor.They state that sometimes the more complicated solution is the right one.I happen to agree with them on this, but it proved a real distraction in reading the book.Many scientists use the exact opposite argument against spiritual things.It also struck me that a book so brief (less than 200 pages) would necessarily struggle to explain a complex phenomenon convincingly.Trade books, such as those by Alexander and Burpo, aren’t meant to be held up to the stiff standards of peer review.They are meant for selling lots of copies.Their authors aren’t philosophers.It’s almost a mismatch in categories.Some academic presses are now publishing on NDEs and asking plenty of questions about them.It’s no surprise that philosophers favoring physicalism would do the same.It seems a little hairy, however, to do so with Occam left firmly in the shaving kit.
As an exile from academia, I do feel for my employed colleagues who are having to learn distance education techniques on the fly.I do also feel compelled *ahem* to note that I was trained in online teaching long ago at Rutgers University.The school declined to hire me then, and I’ve had no offers since.Now it’s become fashionable for academics with virtually no online experience to look to the hills—whence is their help to come?It’s not very often that I can claim to have been ahead of the curve.In fact, I’m usually so far back that I don’t even know there is a curve.Mismatches like this (someone who’s always been good at teaching, and trained to do so online, who’s been deemed exile-worthy while the unprepared now brush off their virtual bona fides) occur all the time in history.It’s one of the things that makes it interesting.
Higher education isn’t a luxury.I disagree with President Obama that all people should go to college, though.Not everyone needs to.Everyone should be able to attend, however, if they feel compelled to do so.There are a number of myths about it that politicians of all stripes should seek to dispel.One is that the more education you get the higher salary you’ll be able to demand.As a Ph.D. holder I know that is decidedly not the case.There are plenty of manual labor jobs that pay better than the options open for a humanities Ph.D. earner.I also know that universities don’t tell new doctoral candidates this fact.The old ways are changing.I’ve often wondered if the collapse of civilization would be slow or rapid.Living through it I now can see it looks slow from the inside.Future historians will need to assess for future readers how it looks from the social distance of chronological clarity.
Historically crises have helped people pull together.This one seems only to have divided us further.If our government knew how, it could now model kind and considerate behavior.It doesn’t know how.The selfish often don’t comprehend how the wellbeing of others can affect their own.Some companies are beginning to realize that customer loyalty after the crisis may depend on reasonable treatment at at time like this.For others it’s more difficult than house-training a new puppy.Nobody wants to go into exile.When you do, however, you can’t help but notice how it changes your view of things.Ironically I was hired away from academia the very year I had completed my training in distance education.I can image how it might’ve been.But then, I’m living in a land not my own.
The irony doesn’t escape me—and why does irony always try to do that, anyway?—that Ezekiel 4:9 is about famine.I’ve posted about the breakfast cereals from Food for Life (yet more irony, from Corona, California) before, but during this time of shortages at the local grocery stores, famine is an apt topic.I don’t mean to underplay famine.Death by starvation is something nobody should have to face, but looking ahead, who knows?The reason I was eating Ezekiel 4:9 is that my usual cereal brand was sold out.Empty shelves and the prophet seem symbolic,don’t you think?The box quotes the verse as a kind of health-food recipe, but the point was, in context, that this was not something you’d normally want to eat.This was food for hard times.
Ezekiel, you see, lived through the collapse of his own society.In his case it wasn’t because of a virus, but imperial ambition.The Babylonian Empire under Nebuchadnezzar was expanding and Judah was in the way.The city was captured and Ezekiel, a priest, was exiled.His symbolic action of eating poor food was to show people they ought to plan on this as “the new normal.”Even now we hear people saying, “when things get back to normal…” but I also wonder if that will happen.Collapse can occur slowly.The thing about reading history is that we see centuries compressed into a few hundred pages.Things take time.Like restocking toilet paper.Meanwhile empires crumble.
The Babylonian Empire didn’t last long.Oh, it was long enough to mean some people knew nothing else, but looking back we can see that it held sway for decades rather than centuries.In the middle of his book, Ezekiel changes his tune.Once the temple is destroyed, when the worst has happened, he starts looking for a better future.Many people have been under serious strain since November 2016.Anxiety levels have been consistently high for damaging lengths of time.I suspect the book of Revelation hasn’t been so well thumbed for decades.The seventies were also apocalyptic times, as I recall.Although we’re living through history, we each do it on the ground.We experience it in our own little lives.These seismic shifts can’t help but impact us.It helps me to act like some things are normal.I still get out of bed early.I stumble into the kitchen and fumble on the light.I settle down for breakfast with a prophet and wait.
The other day, while engaged in a mindless task, I had Bob Dylan playing in the background.When I say Bob Dylan I mean the Bob Dylan of the 1960s.I was an infant when he was singing songs like “The Times They Are a-Changin’” and “Blowin’ in the Wind.”As much as I cast the 1960s in a rosy glow, I was in fact a naive child through my portion of them.I knew about the Vietnam War, but I couldn’t point to the country on a map.Likewise, I knew about the assassinations of John and Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr.I also knew that we had walked on the moon.My family at this stage didn’t listen to popular music.I grew up with hymns in my ears and the culture in which I was swimming slowing becoming absorbed through my pores.Dylan was part of the latter.
One of the reasons I don’t often listen to music is that I really listen to it.It is so significant to me that I don’t like to relegate it to the background.While I work from home, for example, I don’t put music on.I find it difficult to concentrate because, truth be told, I’d rather listen to the music.As I had Bob Dylan on, I was doing a task where I could listen as the rest of my body went into autopilot.The angry white men who are running things now, it struck me, were alive in the sixties as well.As much as they seem like aliens who were beamed down after the expansion of human consciousness, they were lurking in the shadows all along.If they sing along to Bob Dylan they’re hypocrites.We need another Dylan.
Photo credit: Rowland Scherman, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
That’s putting quite a burden on an artist, I know.But Dylan captured the spirit of the times.Even as scientism was growing the reality of the Zeitgeist was obvious.I grew up in the chaotic seventies.The eighties were bland with the Reaganism reaction—angry white men wanted to get rich at others’ expense, and we let them.Not enough time has passed for history to decide on the spirit of the fin de siècle, I don’t think.You see, we seem stuck in a feedback loop.Dylan’s lyrics are as necessary now as they were more than half a century ago.I’m growing weary of angry white men and their petty concerns.Maybe I need to listen to music more often.
We are a family of readers.Still, during the pandemic things change.Not only is my wife working from home, my daughter is also here, doing the same.This seemed to be the most logical thing, given that her housemates weren’t working from home, and who needs pointless potential exposure?What became clear to all of us is that pandemic normal was actually close to our normal normal.I mean, I don’t get out as much on weekends now, but other than the panic, Monday through Friday are pretty much the same as always.Awake obscenely early.Start work before sunrise.Finish work, eat supper, go to bed.The real change has been on my reading habits.
When things are “normal” (if that word can ever apply to me), during the time my wife drives home from work, I read.I also read in the morning and before going to bed, but that latter doesn’t last long if I’m tired.Now, however, we’re all here and after work is over family time begins.I don’t begrudge this for a nanosecond, but it does affect my reading habits.You see, self-isolation has been a way of life for me long before the pandemic began.Not necessarily because I wanted it this way, but I have always tried to preserve time for books.I don’t have the reading time of a professor, so I have to carve it out of personal time.In situations like this even bibliophiles have to admit that people are more important than books.Still, with only essential businesses open, and Amazon delivering only essential items, books have fallen between the cracks. Some of us consider them essential.
My daughter said the other day that not being able to buy books was worrying.Indeed it is.We’re pretty well stocked here for reading material.I’ve got plenty of books I want to read, but I lack the time.Also, one of my reading challenges specifies the particular types of books I need to target, including recent ones.How am I to get them?Our local library is closed.As are the bookstores.It’s beginning to feel like an episode of The Twilight Zone—being isolated but not having access to new books.At work they’re suggesting which television shows to binge watch during the long hours of enforced alone time.Me, I standing in front of my bookshelves staring in wonder and indecision.Pandemic or no pandemic, it is time to read.
The current crisis, in my mind, dates to Thursday, March 12.That particular day, at least in my socially distant location, the pandemic became a panic.Decisions were made to have employees work remotely.Zoom or Skype meetings were substituted for the face-to-face variety.Church services were cancelled.There was a run on toilet paper.This final aspect has me really vexed.Why toilet paper?Experts say if we kept to our usual buying habits there would be plenty for everyone, but the survivalist mentality kicked in and people began hoarding.If the apocalypse was coming, they wanted to go down fighting with clean underwear on.We were in Ithaca the next day to see my daughter.We ordered out from a local restaurant.When we got home we found a role of new toilet paper in the top of the bag.
According to my amateur dating technique, we’ve been in this state for 13 days now.Toilet paper, tissues, and paper towels are nowhere to be found.I looked on Amazon.They can get you toilet paper, but you’ll need to wait until May.Why?Ironically, because it’s being shipped from China.Yes, the nation where the pandemic erupted has toilet paper aplenty.Here in the greatest [sic] nation in the world, there’s none to be found.What does this tell us about a country that self-identifies as “Christian”?Whatever happened to “if someone demands your coat, give them your shirt also”?Or perhaps more to the point, “turn the other cheek”?How has a nation of Bible believers responded to a crisis?By becoming selfish. By stockpiling toilet paper.
I’ve spent a lot of time camping.I’m fairly comfortable with the ways of nature.Like most other people I prefer a nice, private restroom with all the accoutrements, but if bears can do it in the woods, why can’t we?I have my Boy Scout guide right here.But it suggests using toilet paper.If books could be ordered, I suspect How To Poop [this is the family friendly version] in the Woods would be a current bestseller.Trump says he wants everyone back to work by Easter, but the toilet paper ordered from Asia won’t even be here by then.And will offices have access to some secret stash that only those who buy in bulk can find?Hoarding makes any crisis worse, but this particular one seems especially mean spirited.It makes me realize just how great America has been made.
Some days ago I mentioned reading a book about Frankenstein.This was Making the Monster: The Science behind Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, by Kathryn Harkup.I’ve read several books like this, many of them written about on this blog (search “Frankenstein”—there is a search box out there!), about the context of Frankenstein.The base story is all the more compelling for having been written by a teenager who’d eloped with a married man who would eclipse her literarily.Mary Shelley never got rich off Frankenstein, but it is one of the best known novels of the nineteenth century.It had an impact during the author’s lifetime and has continued to have one these centuries later.Harkup, however, is a scientist.Her specific interest, apart from being a female writer herself, is in the science of the story.
Arranged thematically, Making the Monster covers several of the developments which would’ve been “in the air” at the time.Mary and Percy Shelley both read science also, and knew many of these things.There was the question of reanimating the dead that coincided with the early dissections of humans that made the modern study of anatomy possible.There were medical breakthroughs—some of the more difficult parts of this book to read—and there were experiments with electricity.There were cases of children raised in the wild that had been found and their subsequent stories documented.There was evolution (in the form known to Charles Darwin’s grandfather Erasmus), there was revolution.It was a time with so much happening that Frankenstein became a cathartic outpouring of the human soul amid the science that both Shelleys atheistically accepted.
Much of this book is fascinating, even after reading other similar accounts to the background of the novel.What really brought it all together for me, however, was reading through the chronology at the end.It takes me several days to read books.What with the monster of daily work I often forget some of what I’ve read along the way from introduction to conclusion.Having a chronology at the end reminded me of just how much information is packed in between these covers.The narrative covers about a century (longer, if you include the alchemists), and shows how Mary was using fiction to address some very real science.Harkup never loses track of Mary Shelley’s personal experience, however.Estranged from her father, constantly on the move, widowed fairly young, losing several children, treated poorly by aristocratic in-laws, hers was a story of perseverance and ultimately influencing the western canon.It shows that science and art can assist one another to make us all more human. And the monsters left behind endure.
As the pandemic stretches on and getting things in stores—or even from Amazon—isn’t assured, my thoughts go back to Larry Norman.Specifically to his song “I Wish We’d All Been Ready.”Made famous for many by its use in the 1972 rapture film A Thief in the Night, the song recounts the state of those “left behind” when a piece of bread could be exchanged for a bag of gold.The lyrics are haunting in their sincerity.Here in Pennsylvania, as in neighboring New York, non-essential businesses have closed, per order of the governors.Periodic forays to the grocery store show the empty shelves of panic buying.Norman’s song rings in my ears.Only this isn’t a biblical plague.We’re just acting like it.
No doubt technology has been of great use in keeping us aware.I do wonder, however, at how panics seem to come more quickly now.Slowing down manufacturing will have a knock-on effect for things down the road, of course.Right now we’re all wondering how we’re going to get through yet another day just sitting in the house.Meanwhile the lawn is beginning to grow and I’m going to have to get out there with the push mower soon.I’d been planning on shopping for a better one this year, but plans seem to have suddenly pooled at my feet.What is essential travel anyway?Does it count a trip to the big box hardware store to buy a reel mower?Should I even bother about the lawn when there’s no toilet paper within a fifty-mile radius?I wish we’d all been ready.
The funny thing about all this is how it makes us focus on the here and now.While we’re waiting for things to “get back to normal” we’re being told nobody knows how long this might last and we should plan to hunker down for some time.The International Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature (being held in Australia this year) was cancelled.Many of us in the discipline have had our lives revolving around the Annual Meeting in November for all of our adulthood.If that meeting’s cancelled how will we even know when Thanksgiving comes?Can it even come without the crowds at the Macy’s parade?Best not to look too far ahead, I guess.The rapture is a fictional construct, but the effects of a pandemic are eerily similar.I do wish all of us had been ready.
Since walks in the outdoors are a good thing, according to government guidelines, my family has been taking them.Actually, we tend to take walks anyway since sitting before a screen all day is anything but natural.One fact we’ve noticed on our perambulations through town is that many churches, as a standard of caution, aren’t holding their usual meetings.The governor here in Pennsylvania hasn’t ordered churches closed—the fine line between church and state is easily violated—but many of the civic-minded religious are able to draw their own conclusions.The church I attend has gone to virtual services.In any case, I’m seeing news stories of clergy, particularly on the far-right end of the spectrum, insisting that the show must go on.Ignoring government guidelines, they try to cram in as many people as they can until the police come along to limit the size of gatherings.
Throughout history religion has generally been in league with local governments.We don’t know all the religions that have ever existed, but it is clear that some of the first counter-cultural believers were early Christians.They defied government orders and sometimes died for it.Today it’s more likely to end up in a stern rebuke or simply being sent home where the rest of us are sheltering in place.I read this week about a church that’s encouraging cardboard cutouts of congregants so they can see themselves sitting in the pews during virtual Sunday morning services.At times like this I think back over the history of religions and reflect on how the COVID-19 situation is one entirely new; we’ve never had a pandemic with the internet before.And pastors can announce online that defying the government is on the docket for Sunday morning.
We weren’t the only ones with the idea of visiting Columcille yesterday.An outdoor megalith park, Columcille is a place for spiritual reflection.Since the vernal equinox passed virtually unnoticed this year, it was rejuvenating to take a springtime walk in the park.Yes, others were there, widely spaced, but we walked the trails and visited the standing stones as a family group, keeping away from other gatherings.We spent some time watching the new life emerging from the forest floor.It’s only March but spring has sent its signals to the plant world and green shoots are reaching for the sun before trees leaf out and block the light.It’s a wonder and a source of awe.And in its own way, it’s a kind of gathering we might call church.
With the non-essential stores closed, my daughter asked me the other day “does that mean bookstores?”Sadly, yes.More weekends than not I spend some time in a bookstore.Fortunately we are well stocked for an apocalypse, book wise.Lately I’ve been on a kick of reading short stories.I’ve certainly written enough of them to fill a book or two, and it’s nice to start something you can finish in one sitting.I just finished reading, or perhaps re-reading Ray Bradbury’s The Illustrated Man.I say “perhaps re-reading” because I know I read many of the stories in the edition of the book I bought as a tween.Some of the tales I didn’t recall at all, making me think I was reading selectively in those days.That’s the nice thing about story collections: you don’t have to worry about continuity.
That having been said, the conceit of the illustrated man himself is that of a framing device.His tattooed body is the canvas on which all of these tales are painted.A surprising number of them are religious in theme.Many of them take place on Mars.Rockets are ubiquitous.As a child I hadn’t realized that many of Bradbury’s stories were published in the late forties and in the fifties.They still felt futuristic to me, having grown up in a small town with very little exposure to technological developments.Reading many of the tales as an adult, I was surprised at how much they influenced my own fiction writing style.I must’ve read a lot more of them when I was younger than I recall.
My tweenage years were long enough ago now that memories slip into one another.I can’t remember when this or that happened, especially as regards reading.When did I first read about the incessant rain on Venus?Or about the writers living on Mars dying out as their books are destroyed?Looking back over my own fictional work I see Bradbury’s fingerprints everywhere.Bradbury couldn’t afford to attend college, so he did what he knew—he wrote.Of course, back in those days publishers and agents weren’t dealing with the volume they face these days.The internet has made writers of us all.And I have to admit that some of the stories in The Illustrated Man disappointed me.They didn’t reach the level of either depth or insight that I had recalled.Overall, however, the impression was good, if nostalgic.As the days become a long series of interconnected hours of sitting in the house, it’s a real gift to have short stories to punctuate the days.
This is important!Please share it.If you don’t like sharing blog posts please at least share this link: https://www.fcc.gov/ecfs/filings/express.During this time of international crisis, American politicians have decided to discuss making the internet free again.But because a certain political party doesn’t want this, they are doing it in an obscure way.Since many people are working remotely and their livelihoods depend on internet connectivity, the FCC is accepting public comments on Proceeding 17-108, whether to restore internet neutrality or not.The form will take you only two minutes to fill out but you’ll need “Proceeding 17-108” and your zip code plus four.And you’ll need to hit “enter” after filling in your name.The very form seems designed to discourage public input.This is not a joke.
I had sincerely hoped that the COVID-19 crisis would bring out the best in the GOP.It hasn’t yet.Hearing the recorded comments of people like Mitch McConnell on how the Republican Party really doesn’t want to offer any stimulus packages but realizes that the economy will grind to a halt without them, my faith in the human spirit tanked.Not only that, but now that internet neutrality, which is the very way life goes on for many of us, is back open for public input, Ajit Pai is doing his best to make sure people don’t know about it.Please take just a moment to go to the FCC website and make your voice heard.And please share this.If you’re reading this post, remember, you’re using the internet.
Maybe it’s just living life “under the dome” that makes me feel this is so important.Right now my entire family is working remotely.Our house looks like a computer lab.Big Cable, since the end of net neutrality, has been allowed to drop users into “slow lanes” on the web, unless they are supporting causes those companies want.This has ended up wasting a lot of time for those of us who rely on the net for our daily bread.You can make your voice heard.This crisis is the opportunity to say something.Please do.In the best of all possible worlds, or even in a pretty good world, governments would listen to the will of the governed.We’ve been caught in a loop where the governed are exploited for personal gain.The coronavirus has led to the rare chance to make your voice heard.Tell the FCC what you think.And please share the link.
The Museum of the Bible has been a source of controversy since well before it even opened.Many people don’t understand what biblical scholars actually do, and this leads to misunderstandings and not infrequent accusations.Turning no basic critical thinking skills toward a museum intended to champion certain social causes (claimed to be “biblical”), those who support it can’t understand why a “biblical” scholar would object.What do biblical scholars do all day, anyway?We’ll come back to that in a moment.The reason I’m writing about the Museum of the Bible in the middle of a pandemic is an article on National Geographic’s website, “‘Dead Sea Scrolls’ at the Museum of the Bible are all forgeries,” by Michael Greshko.The Dead Sea Scrolls have captured the public imagination for decades now.Having seen the collection at the Shrine of the Book in Jerusalem, I know it can be an awe-inducing experience.One thing biblical scholars do is ask questions.
Artifacts are becoming increasingly easy to fake.Some biblical scholars were fooled by these fake Dead Sea Scroll fragments.Now, my own specialization was Ugaritic.Ugaritic is a cuneiform language with clay tablets as the substrate.One of the things that you learn from looking at a specialized body of material closely and for a long time is how they were written.Some of the Ugaritic tablets have writing along the edges, like marginal scrawls.Some are written with large characters in a clumsy hand, while others are clearly done by a professional.With some practice you can learn to recognize handwriting even in cuneiform.The Dead Sea Scrolls, mostly written on vellum or leather, are similar: specialists know just how they were written and close examination can reveal if they were made in antiquity or simply made to look antique.
Biblical scholars often get accused of taking the life out of things.Would it be better to believe in something that is exposed as a fake?Not exactly debunkers, scholars are those who ask pointed questions of unstated assumptions.If some antiquities dealer claims to have access to material kept out of official hands, and is willing to charge you a lot for it, it’s best to call in the skeptics.It works the same in most fields that keep our society going.We need to trust those who’ve studied a subject in depth for many years.Devoted their lives to it, in fact.Many museum items around the world are forgeries and fakes.It’s not too often, though, that someone specializing in really old stuff gets called in to make an evaluation.There’s a risk involved—the risk of learning the truth.
The story of Frankenstein has many unexpected twists and turns.I’m currently reading a book about the writing of the novel—something I’ve done a number of times before.There was an aspect of this story that hadn’t really caught my attention too much, but then, circumstances changed.Suddenly old information became new.It all started with a missed opportunity from childhood.
It was a real puzzle.Although my grandmother lived with us her last years, I never knew the name of her mother.There had been hints.My grandfather’s book with birthdays in it listed the first name, so I had a Christian moniker and birthdate only.She’d died young, I knew, somewhere in the Washington, DC area.This had been the state of my knowledge for many years.My grandmother died before I was a teen, and before I took any interest in the family story.I knew her heritage was Germanic, her father having been a first-generation American.
So young Mary Shelley (technically Godwin) was on a tour of Europe with her lover Percy.Although they both came from distinguished backgrounds, they were cash poor.Running out of money they made their way back to England as cheaply as they could.They passed near Castle Frankenstein along the way, although there is no record that they actually visited it.The name seems to have stuck, as does the story that they potentially learned about a mad scientist who’d lived in that castle.This scientist was a theologian who dabbled in alchemy and experiments with dead bodies.I know what you’re thinking—it’s like a puzzle piece we desperately want to go in this place but its fit’s ambiguous.We’re not sure how much of this Mary Shelley knew.The alchemist’s name was Johann Konrad Dippel.I’d read about him before.
I’d spent nearly an entire summer some years back working on my grandmother’s family, finding little.Just two years ago I did a casual search on “Find a Grave,” and to my surprise, I found my great-grandfather.I knew it was him because his second wife’s name matched information from all the family records.The cemetery record, in Maryland rather than DC, had his first wife’s name.It was that easy.After decades of searching, a few keystrokes revealed the mystery.When it also listed her parents, the significance of her mother’s maiden name—Dippel—escaped me.Now I have no way of knowing if this is the same Dippel family of Castle Frankenstein, but it put flesh on the bones of my long-standing interest in monsters.Seeking them out may be the same as learning family secrets.Perhaps it always is.
It’s a dilemma.I face it every year.I don’t have green to wear and it’s St. Patrick’s Day.For your average run-of-the-mill citizen, this might not be an issue—but I do have an Irish heritage (in part), and so it’s a heartfelt concern.The reason I don’t have green has less to do with fashion (consider the source!) than with my clothing purchasing practices.First of all, I like to make my clothes last.Fabrics can be quite durable.They aren’t mechanical and therefore don’t break down often.I don’t live a rough-and-tumble life, so tears aren’t really a problem.The end result is that I keep my clothes as long as they’re functional.When they begin to wear out I go to the store and examine the clearance racks until I find something in my size.That means color selection is often a matter of very limited options.
Once in a great while I have landed something green.I still remember a green shirt I had in college.It served me well for more than four St. Patrick’s Days.It long ago succumbed to overuse, however, because I wore it on other days as well.And let’s face it, when I make one of those infrequent trips to the clothiers’ shops, this particular holiday’s not on my mind.Unless, of course, I go shopping in March.Back when I lived in Boston it was easy to get your Irish on.I bought a bright green silky (I don’t know if it was real silk) tie with white shamrocks on it.It was probably down at Faneuil Hall.It had been a bit outlandish to wear to work in New York City, though.Indeed, at work staid dress was by far the most common code.Consequently it hung unused in my closet for years.
When we moved a couple summers back, I noticed my green tie had faded to bronze.I thought it went the other way around.In any case, my last truly green clothing article was no longer green.Yes, it still has shamrocks, but I’d feel even more ridiculous trying to rock a bronze tie and pass myself off as Irish.It won’t even pass for gold.Of course, I work from home.I’ve practiced social distancing long before it was a trend or a government mandate, whichever it is.The only people to see my lack of green would be my wife and daughter, and perhaps a Jehovah’s Witnesses that might stop by.But still, even minor celebrations are anticipated at times such as this.Although I won’t be going out today I’ll probably be spending some time in my closet and reflecting on the true heritage of my Irish forebears.