Thursday Short Poem: Merwin’s “Yesterday”

Posted on July 21, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

I love W.S. Merwin; his Vixen was the first poem I put up when I began the Thursday Short Poem just over one full year ago.

This devastating poem makes me cry, and it makes me happy that I’ve been seeing a lot of my Dad this year, and I’ll be visiting with him again soon.

Yesterday

My friend says I was not a good son
you understand
I say yes I understand

he says I did not go
to see my parents very often you know
and I say yes I know

even when I was living in the same city he says
maybe I would go there once
a month or maybe even less
I say oh yes

he says the last time I went to see my father
I say the last time I saw my father

he says the last time I saw my father
he was asking me about my life
how I was making out and he
went into the next room
to get something to give me

oh I say
feeling again the cold
of my father’s hand the last time
he says and my father turned
in the doorway and saw me
look at my wristwatch and he
said you know I would like you to stay
and talk with me

oh yes I say

but if you are busy he said
I don’t want you to feel that you
have to
just because I’m here

I say nothing

he says my father
said maybe
you have important work you are doing
or maybe you should be seeing
somebody I don’t want to keep you

I look out the window
my friend is older than I am
he says and I told my father it was so
and I got up and left him then
you know

though there was nowhere I had to go
and nothing I had to do

“Incredibly Hot” — the Michael Gee case

Posted on July 20, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

A fourth post for the day! Can you tell it’s the lull before the storm of grading summer finals?

The discussion below this post has turned to a technical debate over whether women can climax from having their forearms stroked. Not what I anticipated when I made the original post, but there you go.

There’s a related discussion on feminism and male fantasies at Nonpartisan’s Our Word blog. Nonpartisan is a man posting on a feminist forum, and he’s troubled by the violent content of many men’s sexual fantasies. He invites discussion on whether these fantasies are rooted in biology or culture, and gets some thoughtful responses. And someone posts this old Harry Chapin song with some very appropriate lyrics.

I’ve also followed with interest the case of Michael Gee, the non-tenured journalism professor fired from his teaching job at Boston University after posting on an internet blog site that one of his students was "incredibly hot." A verbatim quote from Professor Gee on a public blog:

Of my six students, one (the smartest, wouldn’t you know it?) is incredibly hot. If you’ve ever been to Israel, she’s got the sloe eyes and bitchin’ bod of the true Sabra. It was all I could do to remember the other five students. I sense danger, Will Robinson.

I mean, there’s so much wrong there, where do we start? And who still uses "bitchin’" anymore? Didn’t that go out with the first Reagan Administration? (I should probably just google it, but aren’t Sabras native-born Israelis, or am I confusing the term with something else?)

Gee was promptly fired (he had no tenure protection). As one who normally defends even the most indefensible of academics (such as Jacques Pluss), I have no problem with Gee’s dismissal. I can only imagine how the "bitchin’ bod Sabra" felt when she heard about it; the five other students whom Gee could barely remember can’t have been too happy about it either.

In the classroom, I am scrupulous about treating all of my students the same, regardless of gender or perceived attractiveness. It’s much easier to do now than when I was first teaching, and frankly, it’s a lot easier to do now that I am fully and completely in love with one woman! What makes Gee’s remarks indefensible is that he managed, in an instant, to make the classroom an unsafe place for every single student — both the woman whom he called "incredibly hot" and the other students whom he admitted to neglecting. At least Jacques Pluss, the Nazi from Fairleigh Dickinson, kept his feelings about his actual students to himself!

Do I have favorites as a teacher? I suppose from time to time, I do. There’s always going to be a special student, male or female, young or old, who shows such enthusiasm and such promise that I can’t help but want to give him or her extra attention or encouragement. These are the guys and gals who come to my office hours over and over again to argue, debate, and talk about life. I mentor a few of them, I’m honored to say. I suppose other students might notice that some of their classmates visit me more often than others, and as a result, may end up with more of my attention. But these "favorites" are not selected because of their looks. Indeed, one of my most important jobs is to make it clear to any student who comes to see me that my interest in him or her is purely professional.

The lovely and the homely of both sexes have crosses to bear. The former often fear that the attention they get is merely superficial; the latter fear being ignored altogether. As teachers, our job is always, always, to look past the surface of our students. Sexiness can be a distraction, but it’s completely unacceptable for those of us who teach to allow desirability to influence our attention, our grading, or our willingness to offer help to those who need it.

Several years ago, I had two students who were regular visitors to my office. I’ll call them "Jack" and "Jill". Jack was in my ancient history class. He was an older fellow (mid-forties), usually unkempt. He was a heavy smoker and infrequent bather. When he came into my office to talk, he brought with him an odor of cigarettes and dirty clothes; sometimes, the awful stale stench of alcohol seemed to seep through his pores. Jack was a bright man — very thoughtful (if argumentative). I liked him very much, but I confess that his odor was a distraction. My office-mate at the time would leave whenever Jack came in, and finally asked me to meet with Jack outside, at the little coffee stand near our building. Was it easy to work with Jack? Not always. His body odor was a test for me, but it was a test I overcame. It wasn’t my place to comment on his grooming — it was my place to do what the rest of the world probably didn’t do, which was to pay close attention to him despite his truly unpleasant scent. I’m happy to say he transferred to Cal State LA, and still keeps in touch.

Jill was the opposite, of course. She was in my women’s history class. She was young, quite attractive, and she tended to wear much more revealing clothes than her classmates. She also came to my office regularly, as she was doing a scholar’s option research paper. I don’t think she was flirtatious, but she was likely aware of the impact her body had on those around her. Our conversations were always academic in nature, but at times, frankly, I found her a challenge in much the same way as Jack had been. Both Jack and Jill had bodies that demanded attention! With both Jack and Jill, my challenge was to be a thoughtful, attentive, loving mentor who saw them as human beings first and foremost. Jill’s exposed flesh and Jack’s stench both grabbed attention,and at times, in remarkably similar ways, I had to force myself to stay absolutely focused on what each was saying. As with Jack, I had to give Jill what I imagine she didn’t often get from men: completely non-sexual attention. I’m not in the business of telling young women how to dress, or telling older men to bathe. Good teaching means dealing professionally and compassionately with the sexy and the malodorous alike!

Michael Gee didn’t see his "Incredibly hot" student as a person. He could not do what we who are privileged to work as teachers must do , which is teach without being distracted by either the beauty or repulsiveness of student bodies. And even when we are challenged by the "Jacks" and "Jills" and "bitchin’ bod Sabras" of the world, for heaven’s sakes, we ought to keep it to ourselves!

Off for a run in the heat. Let’s hope I don’t fall down again today!

Good news?

Posted on July 20, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

Three posts in one morning…

Ann Coulter is very unhappy about John Roberts, and this cheers me up immensely. Fred Barnes isn’t happy either. This guy isn’t happy either.

It’s funny. As a liberal, I comfort myself whenever right-wingers complain about something the president has done. It’s the old "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" thing; the more I read on the ‘net today, the more it looks like Roberts was not the favorite son (or daughter) of the hard right. And that is, naturally, a source of (small) comfort. Of course, I bet lots of conservatives are doing exactly what I’m doing — trolling around on the internet, reading of liberal outrage about Roberts, and reassuring themselves by saying "Well, if NARAL and Chuck Schumer don’t like him, he must be okay."

We are all very silly, aren’t we!

“Utterly indispensable”: reflections on men, women, military service

Posted on July 20, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

I’m interested in the discussion (a civil one, I am happy to say) below this post. The subject of men, women, and the draft has come up. The military draft is a troublesome issue for feminists and pro-feminists, as it brings a variety of important issues together: equality for women, social justice, and the morality of war, just to name a few. From the discussion, I can sketch together a few basic positions:

1. Social Conservative/Traditionalist: Women should not be drafted. Women should not serve in combat positions even in a volunteer army, because their primary role ought to be as wives and mothers, not "cannon fodder." The fact that women are already fighting and dying in Iraq is a disgrace. Men, on the other hand, are natural protectors and fighters and ought to be required to serve.

2. Men’s Rights Advocates: Women ought to be treated exactly as men are treated. If and when a draft is reinstated, women ought to be drafted. Women should be required to register with Selective Service, just as men do now. Ala Warren Farrell, men bear an unequal burden; they could be conscripted and are forced to register for that conscription, while women will not bear that burden of being required to fight for their country.

3. Feminists: Well, not surprisingly, there is no clear feminist unanimity on this issue. Liberal feminists who favor full inclusion for women in all aspects of society tend to support Selective Service registration for women, as well as the opportunity for women to serve in combat. More radical feminists tend to oppose registration and all forms of military service for both sexes. But few serious feminists defend the current system; they either want more women in the military or they want a complete re-think of how our nation wages war.

Here’s where my pacifism actually leads me into agreement with some of the Men’s Rights Advocates. (Shock of all shocks.) Warren Farrell, a man I disagree with 85% of the time, is absolutely right when he calls Selective Service registration "the psychological preparation to be disposable." Farrell is rightly upset that our national rhetoric around war sees men’s bodies as not worthy of protection:

We don’t call the one-million men who were killed or maimed in one battle in World War I (the Battle of the Somme) a holocaust, we call it "serving the country."

Indeed. Pro-feminist men (of whom I count myself one) and MRAs share, I think, a real sense of outrage at cultural messages that glorify the deaths of young men in battle. We share a mutual anger at those from all points of the political spectrum who argue that men have a natural inclination for violence that somehow makes their dying in battle justifiable.

But few MRAs are actual pacifists. I oppose the draft because I am fundamentally opposed to war on religious and ethical grounds; I don’t want either my sisters or my brothers fighting. The thought of any of my loved ones being killed — or killing — fills me with equal horror. And I get angry at right-wing rhetoric that cheapens men’s lives:

America owes much to its women service members.

But they shouldn’t be in combat. First, they are the bearers of life and the heart of family life, an utterly indispensable role. When America sends young women off to war, watching them kiss their toddlers goodbye, we are making a moral choice that children are just not important anymore. It is much more important to drive a military truck. This callousness is an outgrowth of the abortion culture in which human life itself is cheapened. Any job those women do could be done by a man, but nobody else can be a mother to her children. It is bad enough for children to lose their father, but it is utterly unnecessary for them to lose their mother...

If women are utterly indispensable, what are men? Here, I think, pro-feminists, feminists, and MRAs can stand together. While some would like to see women drafted alongside men, and others would like to see a world where war was renounced forever as a policy tool, we can all agree that a worldview that sees men as fundamentally more dispensable than women is abhorrent.

I stand with my feminist allies who push men hard to change. I’m a pro-feminist because I want to see the men in my life become better lovers, husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers. I’m a pro-feminist because I refuse to believe that men are biologically oriented towards domination, violence, and poor parenting skills. I’m a pro-feminist because I believe that both men and women benefit from a society where gender roles are less rigid and more fluid, and where both men and women have access both to political and economic power as well as the opportunity to nurture the vulnerable. But I’m also a pro-feminist man because I love men.

My faith tells me that every life is equally precious, from the unborn in the womb, to the hungry child in a refugee camp in Darfur, to the murderer on death row in Texas, to a lance corporal in the Marine Corps. My consistent-life ethic tells me that no living body is more or less valuable than any other, whether or not it is has a brain, whether or not it has committed a crime, whether or not it has a penis.

According to the God who loves us and made us, we are all, each and every one of us, "utterly indispensable."

Hugo fell down

Posted on July 20, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

I’m in the office this morning with badly skinned knees and various bruises on my lower half.

Yesterday afternoon, I took a bad fall while running on a trail near the South Pasadena Golf Course; I tripped over a rock and fell hard on my hands, knees, and side. It’s been several years since I’ve had a bad fall, and this was far from my worst. (My worst, in 2002, kept me from running for several weeks after I landed with my back on a rock while crossing a stream at full speed near Chantry Flats). Those older and wiser than me have always told me that after I fall, I should stay on the ground for a moment; it’s vital not to move until one is certain that there are no potentially serious injuries. But of course, I bounded up at once after hitting dirt yesterday, and staggered off.

A trio of young men, perhaps in their twenties or early thirties, were standing on a golf tee not more than forty yards from where I fell. I was certain that they had seen me tumble, and my first thought after hitting the ground was not of pain or surprise but of embarrassment. I felt as if their presence compelled me to leap to my feet and trot off as if nothing had happened. It was only after I had come to a shaded area, out of sight of the golfers, that I stopped again and assessed my injuries (which were bloody, painful, and thankfully minor).

On the remainder of the run, I thought long and hard about that impulse to jump back to my feet and pretend nothing had happened. I was reminded, of course, of junior high school, which is where I first learned that suffering injury is not a disgrace, but showing pain is. I learned this lesson from the older guys, who ridiculed even the slightest stumble. Obviously, it was not okay to cry in school — but it went beyond that. It wasn’t okay to display any kind of clumsiness at all. In the pecking order of my junior high school, those who moved their bodies with purpose and self-confidence were admired; those who were awkward were teased without mercy. I learned early a vital lesson that both boys and girls learn, albeit in different ways: control of one’s body is the sine qua non of "coolness."

As I ran home yesterday afternoon, I thought also about the sex of those who had witnessed my fall. Would I have been as embarrassed if it had been a trio of female golfers who had seen me go down? Yes, but not in the same way. My experiences in my very clumsy adolescence taught me that while "cool" boys were likely to ridicule me when I fell (or made a ridiculous error playing softball in P.E.), the girls were more likely to pity me. While the guys might say "What a dweeb!"; the gals might say "Oh, poor guy." I got both ridicule and pity in high school, as nonathletic boys will, and I never could decide which hurt more. The cruel teasing stung, of course, but so did the pity. While the girls’ sympathy lacked the hostility of what I experienced from the guys, it didn’t feel much better, largely because it left me feeling small, weak, and decidedly unmasculine.

Twenty years on from high school, I don’t worry much these days about being teased. I am so much more confident in my own skin than I was all those years ago. But when I take a spill, as I did yesterday, I get brief but intense flashbacks to a time when my lack of poise and physical self-control was regularly on display. And as I pulled myself up out of the dirt, and galloped to the safety of a concealing grove of trees, I was momentarily again that youngster committed to not displaying pain or vulnerability.

Still got work to do, I suppose.

Nothing today.

Posted on July 19, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

I’m having computer problems at work, so can’t post today. I promise to have something up tomorrow.

I think the discussion below my previous post is excellent, and I’m grateful for the many fine points being made there.

Disconnected reflections on Lance, Playboy, fantasy, and a response to Joe

Posted on July 18, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

Like millions of others, I’m a huge Lance Armstrong fan. Today, the dilemma was whether or not to read the Playboy Magazine interview with him. The cycling site that linked to the article promised it was a "safe" link, with no obvious porn images attached. I’m very careful about what I bring up on my work computer, even with tenure; I’m also committed to not visiting what are essentially porn sites from ANY computer. Some images I don’t need in my consciousness.! At the same time, darn it, Playboy does do some great interviews! After thinking about it, I clicked on over and read the article, and was glad I did. For those who feel comfortable visiting the Playboy site, it’s a very interesting interview. If you can, make sure your browser blocks pop-ups; mine blocked several.

Jimmy Carter did an interview with Playboy thirty years ago. (Not something I can imagine any major candidate doing today; we’ve shifted dramatically to the right since the mid-1970s.) It is indeed quite possible to read Playboy "for the articles"! I read the Lance interview because I don’t want to make an idol out of anti-porn zealotry. And I read it because I adore Lance.

Still, I’ve always considered "playboy" a remarkably apt title: the emphasis on "boy" rather than "man" captures an essential truth; lusting after images of unattainable women is, in some sense, an activity for adolescents rather than adults. And of course, not all adolescents are still in their teens!

Is that unduly harsh? Joe Perez thinks so:

The distinctions you make between pornography and erotica (one is good, the other is bad, guess which) strike me as strained … but then I don’t buy the whole "objectification" crapola argument either. If using pornography makes you feel guilty, don’t do it. But that doesn’t make porn bad, except in your mind. Porn is just another human cultural invention like any other, with a whole host of good and bad and in-between qualities. It can be used for a whole spectrum of purposes from those very low in developmental maturity to very highly mature purposes; and purposes from low to high can all be valid for persons at different times and places. Even saints can need to look at a hunky jock or a buxom lass to get off now and then, and no there’s nothing wrong with that, IMAJ. It may not be the highest or most noble or most selfless (what’s so damn wrong with selfishness anyways?) act imaginable. Serving soup to the homeless would probably be more dignified. But there are few things more human.

I’ll need help here, folks. What "highly mature purposes" are served by using porn?

This is the part that really bothered me:

Even saints can need to look at a hunky jock or a buxom lass to get off now and then…

Much to unpack there. I’m troubled by the "need" (which I made bold) bit. I’m not underestimating the power of sexual desire, mind you. But not all human societies have visual pornography — yet folks within those societies find erotic satisfaction. They find it with real people, or they find it with images in their own heads, but they don’t all have Playboy, or an Internet connection!

I’m not absolutely opposed to folks "getting off" either. I’m not an anti-masturbation zealot, for heaven’s sakes! But I do think that "getting off" with images in one’s head of hunks and lasses is problematic. I suppose I take Matthew 5:27-28 seriously. When we lust for others, we in some sense are trying to possess them, at least in fantasy. Thoughts are powerful things, and while no human being is ever going to gain complete mastery of his or her dream life, we do well to remember the Tenth Commandment. When we "covet", we are betraying our communal obligations and our boundaries, if only in our minds. While none of us are immune from fleeting desires, we don’t have to indulge them. And unlike Joe, I see indulging these fantasies as highly troublesome: they can leave us dissatisfied and bitter; they can make our mates resentful and jealous. I believe that our inner thought life will make itself manifest in one way or another; that doesn’t mean everyone will act on their sexual fantasies, but it does mean that they will "show up" somehow. Just as our private prayers for our friends and family have the power to touch them in positive ways, I’m not so sure our longings and our lustings go entirely unperceived, even if they are only felt on a subconscious level.

I believe even our most intimate and private moments are never fully private, nor should they be. Even our desires are God’s business, and frequently the community’s business as well. Sexuality is the way the community builds bonds and strengthens itself, right? That doesn’t mean I want to lock folks up for lusting for their neighbor’s spouse, nor does it mean I want to put everyone on a guilt trip. We are all sure to fall short of the mark of a perfect thought life! But it does mean that even if we choose to "get off", we need to be mindful about our thoughts as well as our actions.

They say there’s no one as prudish as a reformed libertine, and I suppose that in an odd way, I’m living proof of that.

But I’m still glad I read the Lance article.

UPDATE: I cleaned up some of the links; sorry, Joe Perez, about not linking to you correctly yesterday.

Monday morning notes

Posted on July 18, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

I’ll try to put up a more thoughtful post later today, but here are some bleary-eyed Monday-morning notes:

Bob Carlton has sent me a link to a very interesting article in the Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication: "He Will Crush You Like an Academic Ninja!": Exploring Teacher Ratings on Ratemyprofessors.com. In general, the article tends to think such sites are a good idea, concluding:

The present research revealed that student postings on the website Ratemyprofessors.com closely matched student’s real life concerns about the quality of instruction in the classroom. While issues such as personality and appearance did enter into the postings, these were secondary motivators compared to more salient issues such as competence, knowledge, clarity, and helpfulness. Students post comments as a way to both receive and share information about instructors. They value the perspective of their peers, but are also critical consumers of the posted comments.

What most of these rating sites really seem to need is a spell-checking device, and some way of ensuring that only students (and not outsiders with an axe to grind, or the professors themselves) can participate in the ratings. Any reader of this blog who doesn’t like me much can go to such a site, pretend to be a student, and rate me — without ever having taken one of my classes. For that matter, I suppose my parents could do the same thing, putting in unduly laudatory ratings. I can’t be positive that it’s happened to me, but some of the remarks I’ve seen there make me wonder if these really all come from my students.

On a related subject, Bob also has a link to a post containing ten tips for new teachers. Some of it is very good, but some of it is, shall we say, infuriating. I didn’t much care for this:

Listening is passive. It is the lowest, least-efficient, least-effective form of learning. That means lectures are the lowest, least-efficient, least-effective form of learning. Listening alone requires very little brain effort on the learner’s part (and that goes for reading lecture-like texts as well), so listening to learn is often like watching someone lift weights in order to get in shape.

Oy-flippin’-veh. Admittedly, the tips get better, but this opening salvo (of the sort I’ve heard from one too many people with an education degree), set my teeth on edge, as did the reference to working out. You know, before I started lifting weights, what did I do? I watched other folks do it, over and over again, so that I could learn proper technique. I listened to fitness instructors and learned their tips. Starting in on weight-lifting with a trial-and-error approach can get you badly hurt. I had to be a passive recipient of knowledge about weight-lifting before I could be a safe, knowledgeable, active participant. Same goes for historical research.

I’ve posted on this before, but I remain convinced that in a survey course such as those I teach here at a community college, lecturing is the most efficient and beneficial way to teach a large number of students of widely varying abilities. If I’ve got six weeks to get from Mesopotamia to the Middle Ages, lecture will be by far the most effective tool to ensure that students have at least an elementary exposure to the vast sweep of Western Civilization. At a higher level, in more advanced and specialized courses, the students should indeed be asked to take a more active role in the classroom. The give-and-take of the seminar format has its place. But not in a classroom of forty, with no teaching assistants, where I am required to cover everything from Sargon to Saladin over a period of a mere 21 lectures during the summer session!

I’ll say it again: the solution to the problem of lecturing is not to reduce the amount of time teachers spend lecturing; rather, it is to ask teachers to become better, more dramatic, lecturers. I’ll repeat what I wrote in March:

One thing that would improve college teaching immensely would be mandatory drama and speech classes for all new faculty. Forget the expensive technology. Teach them how to use their voices, how to modulate their tones, how to string together an exciting narrative without notes. Teach them to make the passion that is surely inside them manifest in their words and in their movements. Teach them the forgotten art of the genuinely engaging lecture. Twelve years of college teaching (and over 120 classes taught in that time), as well as thousands of student evaluations, have made it clear to me that students really prefer a professor who is willing to bring his passion and energy into the classroom.

This is not to say that good teachers can’t be both great lecturers and skilled employers of the latest technology. I have a few colleagues — a very few — whom I know to be both. But I do know that the college culture is one where innovation and novelty tend to be prized more than the ability to teach effectively using the same methods used for centuries. No one writes grants to get money to teach professors how to tell good stories using their memories and their voices alone. I think that’s a pity. I, as the son and grandson of teachers, delight in knowing that I use little or nothing that those who came before me would not have used.

Oh, and Colombia knocked Mexico out of the Gold Cup yesterday in a very exciting match, and that makes me very happy. We watched the broadcast on a Spanish station, with my fiancee providing simultaneous translation (in between her grunts of displeasure and yelps of delight at the fortunes of her South American compatriots); I realize that I have got to do more about learning conversational Spanish. I’ve spent a combined total of several weeks in rural Mexico and rural Colombia, but have never managed to pick up more than a few phrases. If my future wife and I are going to achieve our goal of having fully bilingual children, I’ve got to get going on learning castellano.

Modeling the body

Posted on July 15, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

Many errands to run on this busy Friday. "Inge" the Solara needs an oil change, and "Timmy" the Trek needs to go climb some hills in some unusually humid weather, so I will have to accommodate both of them.

And this afternoon, I’ve still got some paperwork to finish up with the Matilde Mission: Pet Homes for Ranch Chinchillas. Who knew that becoming incorporated as a 501(c)3 was so much work?

And yesterday afternoon, I treated myself to an hour of guided Pilates instruction with a trainer. Um, let’s just say that my inner thighs are sore this morning. There are some muscles biking and running don’t reach, and bless her drill instructor heart, the trainer found them.

I’ve been candid –perhaps too candid — on this blog about my passion for exercise. This summer, I’ve kicked it up a notch; I’m back to doing some form of training every day of the week. I’m fully aware that for someone with my personality, the line between healthy recreation/good stewardship of one’s body on one hand and narcissistic self-absorption/addiction on the other is a thin one indeed. I’ve written before about crossing that line into exercise anorexia; it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Several things are driving me to get back in shape this summer. One was my poor result at last month’s San Diego Rock n’ Roll Marathon. I ran a very slow time, and could feel my extra weight hampering me. After the race, I looked at the pictures that were taken of me during the event, and I winced. My fiancee had to talk me out of posting one particularly unflattering one on my refrigerator as inspiration! (I still sneak peeks at it, I confess). The discrepancy between how I "used to look" and how I looked in San Diego was a painful catalyst for an increase in exercise and a radical reshaping of my diet.

Since early June, I’ve dropped about eight or nine pounds and some excess body fat. Some of that has been a result of a real change in the diet. Dessert is now a once-a-week event, and even then in small portions. White sugar is almost gone; most enriched flour is gone as well. Lots of veggies, lots of legumes, lots of organic, unsalted nuts (for protein). Lots of water, too. No more carbonated drinks, except for a rare regular Coke (all artificial sweeteners, gone too.) I still have my morning mug of coffee — I’m not yet ready to surrender caffeine, but I’ve dropped my intake by 75% since the beginning of the year.

I’m hoping to get my running mileage up to 60-70 miles a week by late August, along with regular Pilates classes and time on the bike. This requires a more judicious use of my time; scheduling workouts around other more important responsibilities will be tricky. Fortunately, my fiancee is also athletically inclined. If one of us didn’t work out, it would surely put a huge stress on our relationship. After all, it’s hard to find someone who understands why you need to go to bed early every Friday night to be up before dawn every Saturday! (Of course, we are both well-aware of how radically a child will, Lord willing, impact our athletic lives! I’ve seen what fatherhood does to the fitness level of most of my friends!)

If you’re still reading through this narrative of self-absorption, let me get to the point. When I "came home to Christ" seven years ago, I turned my will and my life over to Him. I was an extraordinarily irresponsible and reckless individual who needed to learn important lessons about living sacrificially for others. By God’s grace, the love of friends and family, and hard work, my life changed. I don’t walk down the streets I once walked down; I don’t do the things I once did. I’ve still got a lot of growing up to do, but Lord knows, my heart and my life and my behavior have been transformed. I truly believe that I’m a safe, gentle, loving man today, and that’s a miracle. That my church community trusts me to help raise their kids is a tremendous blessing; that despite all that I have been, a remarkable woman is willing to marry me, trusting that the past does not predict the future — that is a gift greater than I deserve. And above all, the near-constant sense of God’s presence in my life is the island on which I stand in an often-overwhelming sea.

But though God has changed many things in my life, I still have what some would call a massive superficial streak! This desire for the best possible body, the best possible time in a race — that desire hasn’t been taken from me. I still devote far too much time and attention to my own perceived physical shortcomings. This sometimes makes it hard for me to be as effective a teacher and youth leader as I might be. You see, when my kids are struggling with issues about sexuality, or drugs and alcohol, or self-injurious behavior, or depression, I feel as if I have something to offer them. I struggled with all those things, but by God’s grace struggle no longer. In those areas of my life, there has been great healing and recovery. I can empathize with their pain, but can also point them towards help, and offer them — through my own experience — the promise that things can change.

When a kid says, "I’m depressed all the time" or "I’m afraid I might have a problem with drinking", I can remember when those were my problems — years ago. I have, I believe, something to offer them, both in terms of empathy and (ultimately) a solution. But when a kid says "I hate my body" or "I feel fat" (even when she or he is perfectly "normal"), then they are describing not just how Hugo used to feel, but how he often still feels. When we have cookies at youth group, and I refuse to eat any of them, saying "I’m on a diet", what am I role-modeling for my kids? What signal am I sending them when I, well over twice their age, make clear that I’m still anxious about my physique, perhaps just as anxious as they are?

Teenagers are long past the stage where they see adults as perfect. It would be absurd to require that our teachers and youth workers have no "issues" or "hang-ups" in order to work with adolescents. Our anxieties and our frailties humanize us; they make us accessible to those for whom we are committed to care. But at the same time, it’s nice to be able to reassure those who are struggling with body dysmorphia and poor self-image that things do get better! And while I no longer weigh 145 pounds, at 38 I’m still working out 2-3 hours a day and counting every calorie. And while I don’t often talk to my kids about my exercise regimen, it’s fairly hard to keep teenagers from discovering what really matters to the adults in their lives.

Much to think about. And I’ll think about it as Timmy Trek and I climb up and down Chevy Chase and Figueroa Boulevards in the Verdugos this afternoon in 90 degree heat.

More on fantasy, violence and football

Posted on July 14, 2005 by Hugo Schwyzer

Let me recommend a visit to Christopher’s blog, to read his excellent post on pornea and the sin of Sodom.

In the comments section below my post on fantasy, Keri has caught me out. I had written:

Keri, from a pacifist perspective, fantasy is problematic when it encourages us to see others as opportunities for us to exercise our power over them.

And she responded:

Interesting. The problem for me is that I can’t imagine why the above applies to video games, but not to sports. What are competitive sports if not physical power struggles that have been made socially acceptable? Aren’t both teams or players in these sports attempting to exercise power over their opposition by proving themselves superior in skill or strength? For that matter, aren’t many competitive sports literally violent, to the point where athletes often suffer injuries?

By that logic, I can’t see why pacifists wouldn’t also consider it unhealthy to find "emotional gratification" in sports; I don’t see how athletes are any less guilty of taking pleasure in exercising power over others than gamers are. (I should think they’d be more so, actually, because their power struggles involve real people, not virtual ones.) If you’re going to imply that the use of power struggles for entertainment and gratification is inherently negative, that has implications for sports as well; if you allow that there are contexts (such as sporting events) in which power struggles can be exciting and empowering and healthy, I don’t see why gaming can’t be one of those contexts.

Hmmm. To be clear, my original post was not meant to be about all video games, just one particular type: shooting games where one’s fantasy opponents end up dead. There are no sports of which I know where the goal is literally to kill your opponent, but of course, the language of "killing" and "destroying" is widespread in virtually all athletic competitions.

I’m a fairly competitive person when it comes to my running and working out. I always get my best workouts in when I’m running with buddies; they push me to do what I could not do alone. I want to keep up with them — or beat them — when we are on the track or in the hills. When I run quarter-mile repeats on the track, I like running with guys just a bit faster than me — because my desperate desire to keep up with them forces me to run faster than I ever could if I were there by myself. (For 400 meters, the difference for me is about 5-7 seconds between running with others and running alone). Competition feels good to me, even when I, as usual, don’t finish first.

But I think there’s a world of difference between healthy competition and a desire to humiliate. When I race my friend Mark down the front stretch of the track at Arcadia High School, I’m not thinking "I’m going to kick his ass!" I’m thinking "Damnit, I’m going to keep up with you if it kills me!" Of course I love beating him (which happens one time in five, mind you), but after every hard interval together, we touch fists and say "Good job, brother." I don’t want to dominate or humiliate him; our competition is a friendly rivalry. Deep friendship — even love — can comfortably co-exist with a real desire to defeat the very person one loves in a game or athletic competition. (If you grew up in my family playing croquet, dominoes, bridge, or table tennis, you’d know that in a heartbeat.) I don’t see how that correlates to killing fantasy characters in a video game. To me, there’s a colossal distinction between competing at ping-pong or in a foot race and shooting at someone, in reality or fantasy! Victory in the former doesn’t involve real or imagined lethal injury to one’s opponent; victory in the latter does.

But how then do I defend my love of college football? Here’s where I sense my own hypocrisy. I adore the college game, and as any regular reader of my blog knows, am a huge fan of the Cal Golden Bears. Football is a literally violent sport, where injuries are real and commonplace. I don’t play the sport, but I love to watch it. And yes, when watching it, I do get stimulated. I do cheer when a defender on my team sacks the opposing quarterback. When I’m calm, I don’t want anyone on either side to get hurt, but when caught up in a sea of blue and gold fans, I am quite capable of standing and cheering when one of "our guys" knocks one of "them" out of the game with a particularly impressive hit. Keri is right that that’s no better than delighting in the violence of video games.

I still think shooting games are uniquely problematic. But hell, I think American football (at all levels) is problematic for a pacifist. I know how many players get hurt, I know how corrupt the college system is, I know that it often brings out momentary ugliness in me when I watch it. As a pro-feminist man, I’m keenly aware of the connection between football and sexual violence against women. And I see that at the least, the successful playing of the video game requires skill; viewing a football game from the stands requires none. (Well, almost none: with experience, you learn to identify holding penalties very quickly, and that’s not something that’s easy to do.) I suppose I’ve been guilty of condemning something that I don’t care about (gaming), while ignoring something equally troublesome (college football) that I do.

I’m virulently anti-porn because I’m viscerally aware of the damage it can do. I stay away from it because I honor its destructive power. I gave up that shooting game a few years ago because I felt myself becoming addicted to it. I still see both obsessions as essentially alike, if only because on a psychological and physiological level, my reactions to both are so similar and so clearly unhealthy. But with my love of football, I’ve yet to see the really negative consequences for me, even as I recognize that there are immense negative consequences for others who play and view that most violent of American pastimes. I know I would never want my kids playing tackle football; I’ve seen too many catastrophic injuries to accept that. But I’m still willing to watch other father’s sons play, and get hurt, all for my enjoyment and the "honor" it brings to my alma mater.

I think Keri’s right, and I’ve fallen short of the mark here.