Context
Annie's Mailbox is the successor column to Ann Landers. In today's column a woman wrote in asking advice about her relationship with a man she loves very much, but who is not interested in marriage and more children (she already has two) like she is.
Commentary
I think the Annie's Mailbox people gave this questioner very sound advice, saying that if marriage and children were what she considered essential in a long-term relationship, she should seek a partner who shares her values. Seems like a no-brainer, right?
"But," I can hear the romantics cry, "what about love?" Well, in our society we slap the label "love" on a variety of different feelings. Like when we say "love at first sight," what we really mean is attraction at first sight, which is great, but cannot carry a relationship forever on its own. That butterflies-in-the-stomach, weak-in-the-knees kind of feeling is inextricably bound to novelty and curiosity, both of which cannot help but fade with familiarity. And generally speaking, once the immediate attraction has gone away, you're not going to want to spend a lifetime with someone who doesn't share your view of what's important.
For me, even that sharing doesn't count as love. Love doesn't come until you know a person well enough to see that you generally agree with them about the important things in life and you're generally able to deal respectfully with the things you don't agree about. I say "generally," because yes, people who love each other do fight. In fact, I don't think you should make a commitment to a person until you see how they fight. If you keep a clear head, in thirty minutes you'll learn more about a person's real values than you would in a month of lovey-dovey talk.
I felt sorry for the woman who wrote in because I was in a similar situation to hers when I was in college. I stayed with a guy who really didn't share my values for way too long because I "loved" him, which in my case meant mostly that I wanted to take care of him. I think part of the problem was that we weren't very good at talking about our individual values, either because we weren't clear enough about them yet or because we didn't have enough confidence to stand up for them. Whatever the reason, we ended up being pretty darn contemptuous of each other by the time we split up. Which doesn't really fit any definition of love.
What did you see today?
2/22/2008
2/07/2008
I saw a presentation about library services
Context
The Louisiana State Library sent me an invitation today to attend a webinar on "Meeting Needs Before They Need It." I'm not free at the scheduled time tomorrow, so I stopped by the website for the session to look at the accompanying PowerPoints. It appears that one of the needs Nancy Kranich plans to talk about is the need for civic engagement.
Commentary
The idea that our society might have a problem with civic engagement did not show up on my radar until the book Bowling Alone was published. As so often happens with librarians, I haven't read the book itself, just several reviews and synopses. The general thesis appears to be that Americans are doing a lot more things (like bowling) alone that they used to congregate in groups for and that this trend is rending the fabric of our society.
Nancy Kranich appears to be looking at a slightly different problem of civic engagement: that even when we do congregate, we're very selective about who we congregate with. My sister the biology teacher spends a little time in her classes talking about how similar people are to the songbirds who mate only with other birds that sing the same song. We say "opposites attract," but realistically we're more likely to hang out with people who are ethnically, economically or culturally similar to us. Kranich envisions libraries as places where people with differing perspectives can get together and learn from each other.
When I first read this part of the PowerPoint, I thought, "OK, we can create the space, but how do we convince people to participate?" I'm sure I'm not alone in being very fond of my particular circle of like-minded people and none too willing to change it. People who are different from me make me uncomfortable. Why not just avoid them?
Well, at the very least, because we can't. By design or by accident, depending upon whom you ask, we have a very heterogeneous society in the United States. Whether we choose to socialize with people who are different from us or not, they are going to have an effect on how we're governed, entertained and schooled. If we don't engage with each other we'll spend all our time either fighting or denying diversity, which seems unproductive in the extreme. This situation actually exists worldwide; it's just a little more obvious 'round here.
But there's more to it than just, "oh well, we have to live with these people, better make the best of it." If we go back to biology we learn that any creature that reproduces sexually (e.g., us, as opposed to amoebas) must introduce new genetic material in order to thrive. I believe the same is true of our interior selves as well. Sure, I'm uncomfortable with people who are different than me, but I'd surely stagnate if all I did was hang around with people who are just like me. My mind is an omnivore; it needs different kinds of intellectual food to stay healthy. How about we engage in a civic potluck?
What did you see today?
The Louisiana State Library sent me an invitation today to attend a webinar on "Meeting Needs Before They Need It." I'm not free at the scheduled time tomorrow, so I stopped by the website for the session to look at the accompanying PowerPoints. It appears that one of the needs Nancy Kranich plans to talk about is the need for civic engagement.
Commentary
The idea that our society might have a problem with civic engagement did not show up on my radar until the book Bowling Alone was published. As so often happens with librarians, I haven't read the book itself, just several reviews and synopses. The general thesis appears to be that Americans are doing a lot more things (like bowling) alone that they used to congregate in groups for and that this trend is rending the fabric of our society.
Nancy Kranich appears to be looking at a slightly different problem of civic engagement: that even when we do congregate, we're very selective about who we congregate with. My sister the biology teacher spends a little time in her classes talking about how similar people are to the songbirds who mate only with other birds that sing the same song. We say "opposites attract," but realistically we're more likely to hang out with people who are ethnically, economically or culturally similar to us. Kranich envisions libraries as places where people with differing perspectives can get together and learn from each other.
When I first read this part of the PowerPoint, I thought, "OK, we can create the space, but how do we convince people to participate?" I'm sure I'm not alone in being very fond of my particular circle of like-minded people and none too willing to change it. People who are different from me make me uncomfortable. Why not just avoid them?
Well, at the very least, because we can't. By design or by accident, depending upon whom you ask, we have a very heterogeneous society in the United States. Whether we choose to socialize with people who are different from us or not, they are going to have an effect on how we're governed, entertained and schooled. If we don't engage with each other we'll spend all our time either fighting or denying diversity, which seems unproductive in the extreme. This situation actually exists worldwide; it's just a little more obvious 'round here.
But there's more to it than just, "oh well, we have to live with these people, better make the best of it." If we go back to biology we learn that any creature that reproduces sexually (e.g., us, as opposed to amoebas) must introduce new genetic material in order to thrive. I believe the same is true of our interior selves as well. Sure, I'm uncomfortable with people who are different than me, but I'd surely stagnate if all I did was hang around with people who are just like me. My mind is an omnivore; it needs different kinds of intellectual food to stay healthy. How about we engage in a civic potluck?
What did you see today?
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