The Clam Rampant

Kasia May 31st, 2007

True confession time: I’m white.

Don’t gasp too loudly. Those of you whom I have had the pleasure to meet in person could hardly have missed it. I’m so white, I practically glow in the dark. When I buy foundation, I am invariably either the lightest or the second-lightest shade. When I was younger and had had less sun exposure, sometimes the lightest was pushing the darker tones of my complexion.

So we’ve established that I’m white. Right?

OK – next point. I work in the city of Detroit, where I also lived until last summer.  In the city, I am something of a minority. If you haven’t visited Detroit lately (as in, since the mid-sixties), it’s reputed to be one of the most segregated cities in the United States. It may well be – I’ve seen demographic maps.

But anyway. About 82% of the population of the city proper is “black or African-American alone” (presumably meaning people who had African ancestry and did not identify as biracial, i.e. black/white, black/Hispanic, black/Asian, etc.). About 11% of the population of the city is “white alone” (like me). Please see the table below, from the Census Bureau, if you would like to check my numbers.

Anyway. Apart from its being a symptom of the above-mentioned de facto segregation and some of the unfortunate results of that, I’m not particularly bothered by being such a minority in the city. I don’t mind working in the city – I’ve worked in the city for over six years, and lived here longer than that. By and large, it’s just normal for me.

However, what is assuredly not normal for me is to be addressed as “white girl”, particularly by people I’ve never met.

As I was leaving work last Friday, I was sitting on the side street waiting to turn onto Woodward so I could head downtown, pick up The Big Seester, then cross the border and pick up The Canuck. I did not see the person in question, as I had glanced down at my bag on the passenger seat to pull out my passport and wallet for the border. However, I distinctly heard a voice from a car that was turning off of Woodward onto the side street saying “Hey, white giiirrl!”

It would never EVER have occurred to me to salute the person who did that as “Hey black man!” I would never walk up to a strange Filipino and say “Hey, Asian lady!” So why did this person feel at liberty to do so to me?

I’ve been addressed as “girl” by black women of various ages and never been offended – I realize it’s simply a difference of culture. It isn’t so much the “girl” part that bothers me, even though I’m 30 years old (and thus probably not properly classified as a ‘girl’). And I know my stepmother would refer to “the girls at work” when the women she was talking about were between 40 and 60.

So I don’t think “girl” is the problem here.  If the fellow had just said “Hey giiirl!”, while I wouldn’t have been especially impressed, I don’t think it would have really even shown up on my radar.

But I know I’m white. It’s obvious that I’m white. Is it really necessary to salute me as “white girl”?

Just weird!

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Kasia May 28th, 2007

My favorite Scandinavian sent me this the other day.  I’ll be adding it to the links on the right-hand side, but wanted to  highlight it before doing so. It’s Teresa Tomeo’s  blog Noise. For any of you who don’t know, Teresa Tomeo is a Detroit Catholic radio personality – she’s on Ave Maria radio – and is very active in the Archdiocese of Detroit’s annual women’s conference, among other things. She’s a neat lady.

The top post as of now is about a recent study, commissioned by several major media corporations, apparently downplaying the link between violence on TV and violent behavior in children. (Ms. Tomeo didn’t link to the study, so I can’t say definitively what they said…when I have some time I’ll try to dig it up.)

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that there’s some truth to the social science mantra that correlation does not equal causation. I mean, if you accept that correlation equals causation, you’re opening yourself up for some big problems. However, I think anyone who’s been around children knows that there’s a big ‘monkey see, monkey do’ element to children’s behavior. They tend to mimic what they see.
I realize that’s not a rigid scientific statement – it’s based on experiential and anecdotal evidence – but it’s a generalization I’m going to go with for right now. For one thing, this is a blog, not a scientific journal. For another thing, if anyone wants to challenge the statement, they are free to post in the combox, right after they go work with a crew of three-to-eight-year-olds for a week or so.

Anyway. I will accept that one may not be able to prove a direct causal link between TV violence and violent behavior, at least not with available tools. That’s one of the annoying things about social sciences; they try to measure, quantify and define elements that ultimately defy perfect measurement, quantification and definition. There are always alternative explanations. There are always other potential factors. And it’s very rare that only one variable X does singlehandedly cause a single effect Y. So it’s entirely possible – even probable – that there are other factors at play here. BUT, and here’s my big beef with using ‘correlation is not causation’ as your battle cry, diminishing what appears to be a strong correlation over decades of research turns what should be a simple research axiom into the proverbial last refuge of scoundrels. Can’t disprove the evidence that’s come up so far? Just keep reminding us that ‘correlation is not causation’. Eventually we’ll all be so tired of hearing it, and of trying to come up with indisputable proof of a direct causal link, that we’ll just concede the point out of fatigue and disgust. At least, that’s the strategy I think they’re taking. I just hope it doesn’t work.

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Kasia May 24th, 2007

It’s one of those days.

Overslept. Too greasy to skip the shower. Dressed down today because my legs and feet are hurting from almost two solid weeks of heels. Left only a few minutes late, thanks be to God.

Heard on the radio that there was an accident on 94 at Moross, direction as yet undetermined. Of course it was westbound. “No problem,” thought I; “I will just take Harper past Moross and then hop onto the freeway.” (For you non-Detroiters, Harper is the I-94 service drive.)

Would’ve worked, but the police had blocked Harper off at Moross. So I cut through a neighborhood to get past that, came up Morang, and got onto the service drive. Got onto 94 at Cadieux. Doing pretty well, eh?

Nope. Freeway stopped dead at Conner (only a couple of miles up, non-Detroiters). So I got off the freeway to try to find my way to Harper (there are a lot of twists and turns right there). Turns out I went the wrong way, but found myself at Warren. “No problem,” thought I; “I know Warren. I’m south of where I need to be, but that’s OK. In fact, since I’m already going to be a little late, I’m going to stop by the ATM and the bakery on Warren near Woodward (only a block out of my way) and get some breakfast, because I’m hungry and starting to get crabby.”

I hit every light. Well, no – I hit all but three lights, one of which I really should’ve stopped for but didn’t (and had several cars follow me through, merci beaucoup!). Then I got to the ATM. One guy using it – not bad. But the machine is taking forever. So I thought to myself, “No problem – they know me at the bakery, and it won’t be a problem for me to get my breakfast with an IOU. I’ll just stop down later today and pay them.”

That wouldn’t have been a problem, but there was a woman in front of me who had to have been the slowest orderer in the West. Then, when I finally thought she was done and the cashier gave her her total, she realized she had more money than she needed to pay the bill, and decided to add on to her order!

So I left. I thought, “Well, maybe I can still hit the ATM, and if that goes quickly I’ll run back in and see if she’s done.” No – the guy was just then punching in “Withdrawal – checking” or whatever.

To quote Charlie Brown: AAAAAUUUUUGH!

So I was late to work, didn’t have breakfast, and am still dead tired. To top it off, I think I just realized that I left my lunch in the car.

I’ll say it again: AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGH!

So my car will smell like Italian beef when I leave, I’ve wasted food, and I’m going to have to go out for lunch.

Pfft.

It’ll get better from here, right?  :-p

I am soooo looking forward to the long weekend. I’ve got a family shindig on Saturday, but after church Sunday I am officially NOT AVAILABLE for ANYthing except taking the Canuck back to his train. I officially DO NOT EXIST until Tuesday morning. I will ignore the phone. I will ignore everything. I will sleep all day if I want to. My cats will be the only ones who know I exist (well, once the Canuck leaves).

Sigh. Now, if I can only stick to that…

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Kasia May 19th, 2007

Stephanie tagged me for a meme, which I meant to do sooner but have been just too busy with the new job to do yet. Thanks Stephanie! I actually would have said a lot of the same books as you did, so I will try to vary up my answers…but a couple of them are just too spot-on to ignore.

Three works of non-fiction everyone should read:

1. Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. I know, Stephanie said it too, but it really is a phenomenal book. I’ve read it twice, once in high school and once at the end of college, and both times it played a significant role in drawing me toward the Faith.

2. Under a Cruel Star: A Life in Prague 1941 – 1968 by Heda Margolius Kovaly. Kovaly was a Czechoslovakian Jew who has since emigrated to the U.S. It starts with her escaping from a forced march between concentration camps and just gets more amazing from there. In addition to her being an excellent writer, she’s got an incredible story to tell. Be forewarned that it’s painful to read at times – the title is apt – but well worth reading. It also is one of the books that convinced me that Communism, however much its theoretical promises may be alluring (”Enough for everyone! No one goes without!”), is a wretched idea that should be consigned to the dustbin of history. But Kovaly makes that argument far better than I could here…so go read!

3. We Wish to Inform you that Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda by Philip Gourevitch. Gourevitch is a journalist who went to Rwanda after the genocide. Again, haunting, but well worth reading.

And I have to add one book that I haven’t read yet but that is on my list, as it comes so highly recommended: Shake Hands with the Devil by Romeo Dallaire. Another Rwanda book – Dallaire commanded the U.N. forces in Rwanda, and basically had his hands tied by the higher-ups at the U.N. He could have decided to just up and leave, and take his troops with him, since they weren’t able to do any material good (i.e. save lives), but instead decided he was morally obliged to stay and bear witness to what happened. He is also the person on whom Nick Nolte’s character in Hotel Rwanda is based.

Three works of fiction everyone should read:

1. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen – not only is it a great story and a great read, it’s also a timeless lesson in some of the more common foibles in human relationships.

2. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Quite simply one of the best books ever written.
3. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. They’re child-friendly (I first read them as an under-10) but there’s enough there for an adult to get something out of them too, particularly if one wants to understand some of the more nuanced Christian allegory present in them.

Three authors everyone should read:

1. C.S. Lewis. Simply one of the greatest Christian apologists of the 20th century, and in my opinion, a contender to be one of the greatest (at least most influential), oh, maybe 100 post-apostolic Christian apologists. But I accept that that’s an arguable point.

2. St. Francis de Sales. Especially if, like me, you’re prone to anxiety or melancholy.
3. Agatha Christie. Just don’t expect to guess whodunit before she tells you.

Three books no one should read:

With the caveat that, like Stephanie, I usually read a book anyway just to know what’s in it, these are a few of the books I don’t recommend anyone bother with.

1. Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H. Lawrence. It’s well-written, I’ll grant you that, but the story is basically about Constance Chatterley’s journey into self-fulfillment via her extramarital affair with the moody (bordering on bipolar) groundskeeper. Plus, parts of it cross the line into soft-core porn.

2. Anything by O.J. Simpson. Look, dude, you were acquitted. Do you really need to spend the rest of your life trying to convince the rest of the world that the jury was right to acquit you? Just go away. Please. Nothing you say is going to convince the people who think you’re guilty that they’re wrong. (And no, I haven’t bothered to read any of these myself. My attitude is that he was acquitted, and both he and God know whether he’s innocent. I’ll leave it to them to sort out.)

3. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. I really dug it when I was in high school, but now that I’m past my militant feminist/secularist days, all I can say is “Peggy’s got some issues.”

For the record, I also emphatically do not recommend anything by Ann Coulter or Michael Moore. I haven’t had much exposure to Franken or Hannity, so I’ll reserve judgment on them.

Now, let’s see. I tag The Big Seester, Dr. Mabuse, and anyone else who feels like participating. If you don’t have a blog of your own (Jill and Jenn in particular), feel free to leave your responses in the combox. DJ and The Canuck, I have a sneaking suspicion TBS will tag you, so you may want to save yourself for that.

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Kasia May 12th, 2007

OK, no more cheap digs at overemotional Oscar winners.

I had my last day at the university yesterday. I started as a student there nine years ago, started working part-time there six years ago, and started full-time five years ago. When one is 30, that is a significant chunk of one’s life. So I expected to be a little verklempt.

When I got into work, there was a huge gift bag on my desk. Puzzled, I started pulling things out of it.

First came a box of Puffs, with a sticky note that read “For when you really need to sneeze. (God bless you!)”

Then came a ziploc with a sticky note that read “Pharmacy in a bag.” Inside were all the various sundries I had had to ask someone else in the office for at some point: Band-Aids, throat lozenges, Advil, and nail clippers.

By this point I was laughing out loud. Next came a box of Nutri-Grain bars. The sticky note on that said “For when you’re running late and forgot breakfast.” (When I told The Big Seester about this, she laughed too, and said “Do they know you or what?”)

Next came a bag of Werther’s, which confused me until I reached in again and found a little glass dish with a sticky that read “Fill with candy – make new friends!”

Then came a microwave soup, with the note “For when you don’t go out to lunch.” (Lately I’ve been eating out almost every day…and fortunately for my budget, there is very little around my new job in terms of lunch options.)

Finally came a big Gladware type of plastic tub with all sorts of snacks in it, that said “Snacks for your desk – just because.” And a cute little box with an angel pin in it, and a beautiful little card with a paper cutting of a church.

Peggy, the co-worker who put this together, suggested I keep the sticky notes on everything at the new job, so the people there know I came from somewhere where people love me. [sniff]

Then my supervisor came in with a card and a gift: she got me a really pretty picture frame, and said “Put a picture of someone special in it for your desk.”

Then, that afternoon at my bon voyage, they gave me a big straw bag full of body care products (almost all coconut-scented, mmmm!). Our administrative assistant was off for the day, so she had already given me her gift: a scented candle and a little tub of body butter.

After work a whole bunch of folks came to Circa, the student dive, to see me off

It reminded me, oddly enough, of the Easter Vigil. As TBS and I were leaving after the little congratulatory party that followed the Vigil, she (apparently surprised by all the hugs I was getting and nice things people were saying about me) commented: “Wow. People like you.” To which I replied, if memory serves, “Yeah – would you believe it?”
Gifts are nice, of course, but what really amazed me was the farewell I got, even from people with whom I’d worked only a few months, or whom I’d known years ago. A woman came to Circa who works in the office I left to take this job two years ago, and brought cards from other people in that office who couldn’t make it. One of my professors from my undergrad (which I completed in ‘01) came to Circa, and two others sent regrets because they were in physical therapy and Finland respectively.

God has been so good to me. I can’t believe how blessed I have been to know such loving, generous people already.

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Kasia May 10th, 2007

First, Cris and her husband are proud parents of a bouncing baby angel, Mary Claire. Congratulations, Cris (and Mr. Cris)! 

Second, Dale and Heather are expecting a bundle of their own in December. Thanks be to God, and congratulations Prices!

Third, tomorrow is my last day at the university. Monday morning I report to my new job! Hurrah!

More to follow – with links to the appropriate blogs for Cris, Dale and Heather – over the weekend. I’m pooped!

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Kasia May 9th, 2007

…well, no. That would be time-consuming and overly personal. Plus, it would probably bore everyone but me and The Canuck right out of their skulls. But I will say that yesterday evening I discovered yet another reason why I love The Canuck.

We were on the phone, and I was expressing my mild regret that I got a few more “Kool-Aid” type comments yesterday from one of the work friends with whom I was having lunch. Again, I’m not sure why people who seemed to respect my intelligence before I entered the Church seem to think I must have suffered a closed-head injury in order to convert, but anyway…

So we were talking about that, and about DJ’s point that my Evangelical friends will almost certainly think I’ve apostasized. The Canuck paused, and even though we were on the phone, I know the exact look he must have had on his face. Then he said, “If they say anything, just tell them ‘We were here first!’” I laughed, and he went on to say, as though talking to a dismayed Evangelical, “Two words for you: APOSTOLIC SUCCESSION!”

I’ve got to say, for a lapsed cafeteria Catholic, that’s a pretty ardent defense of the Faith.

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Kasia May 7th, 2007

Faithful readers of The Clam Rampant know I have a cousin, dubbed “Beloved But Obnoxious Cousin” a la Mike the Geek. However, said cousin has a brother (who thus is also my cousin) who may deserve that nickname more than she does. So I need to come up with a new nickname for one or the other of them.

For simplicity’s sake, right now I’ll refer to them as Utah Cousin and Michigan Cousin. Michigan Cousin is the one who has up ’til now been known as Beloved But Obnoxious Cousin. She’s 23. Utah Cousin is 27.

Utah Cousin is in the habit of sending out periodic unsolicited e-mail rants. (He is also in the habit of replying to all whenever anyone sends an e-mail that includes him, which created no small friction between him and my mother a few years ago…but that’s another story.) The most recent one was on the subject of the so-called “National Day of Reason” that was dreamed up as a (one might argue, somewhat sophomoric) answer to the National Day of Prayer. Here is what he wrote, to persons unknown:

http://www.nationaldayofreason.org/

Why?  Why not!Everyone go out and do something useful today.  Give some blood, engage in some commerce, turn your back on a church, write your elected officials a nasty letter 100% protected by man’s natural rights: whatever.As ever: no gods, no masters. [Utah Cousin], who on this point is right, and let no man say otherwise

Ahem. So I wrote back:

Otherwise. Very much otherwise.It amazes me that you try to pre-emptively shut down any sort of response (”..who on this point is right, and let no man say otherwise.”) Surely you can’t be afraid of what us feeble-minded religious types might come up with?
  
Your newly Catholic cousin,
    
[The Clam]

To which he responded:

You’ve got to be smarter than that.  No matter how much propaganda one has absorbed, there’s a little
tiny flicker of reason at the back of the brain signaling the truth.

And I, after some deliberation, responded thus:

Dear heart, I could say the exact same thing back to you, without changing a word. You might want to take a look at this document:

http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/encyclicals/d ocuments/hf_jp-ii_enc_15101998_fides-et-ratio_en.html

“Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth; and God has placed in the human heart a desire to know the truth—in a word, to know himself—so that, by knowing and loving God, men and women may also come to the fullness of truth about themselves (cf. Ex 33:18; Ps 27:8-9; 63:2-3; Jn 14:8; 1 Jn 3:2).”

I think you either have forgotten or else never knew the intellectual history of the Church. Before you go around characterizing persons of faith as knuckle-dragging Kool-Aid sippers, it would behoove you to do some research.

If you want to discuss questions of faith and reason, I’m happy to do so, as long as you approach the matter seriously and come across as wanting to actually engage in discourse. As long as your ‘discourse’ consists of snark and condescension, however, I am not going to take it seriously.

Much love,

[The Clam]

It never ceases to amaze me – and it probably never will – how people who respected my intelligence (or at least purported to do so) before I became Catholic seem to think that I must have abdicated reason in order to convert.

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Kasia May 4th, 2007

Oy vei.

So I know that Friday penance of some sort is mandatory. In the U.S., it is not required to be abstinence from meat, but that’s the traditional penance. However, someone recently pointed out to me that giving up meat, especially for one day, is hardly a huge sacrifice for most Americans. This individual thought that what the Pope should do is order American (and Canadian, and Western European) Catholics to give up pop (including diet) and sweets each Friday.

That struck me as a much more appropriate penance for me, as I have a sweet tooth the size of Rhode Island. So I decided to implement it today.

However, when I went to lunch I felt inexplicably guilty about the prospect of eating meat. Must be leftover Lenten sensibility. So I had a meatless, popless, sweetless lunch.

Now I’m sitting at my desk jonesing for a Pepsi. And when I say ‘jonesing’…well, it hasn’t gotten to body-wracking physical cravings yet, but I have this nagging headache that would probably disappear in two shakes if I could only give myself a sugar-and-caffeine boost.

So now I’m finding myself wondering if, since I haven’t had meat yet today, I could just say now that meat is my penance and go suck down a pop. Probably not.

But I am beginning to think that next Friday, abstaining from meat will be sufficient penance. I’m still developing the penitential habit, after all; me going without pop as penance is like a two-year-old running the Boston Marathon. Well, no. That’s me giving up pop for Lent. But it is like a two-year-old doing something that involves a lot of muscle development that they don’t have yet. Don’t ask me for a good analogy right now; I’m in withdrawal. The only reason I’m not snarling and throwing things at passersby is that I made sure to eat a proper (if meatless) lunch, so my blood sugar hasn’t totally crashed.

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Kasia May 1st, 2007

Perpetual Adoration next door to an abortion clinic.

Check it out – and hey – if I win the Mega Millions, my first project will be trying to start that here in Detroit too.

Curtsy to Cathy of Alex and Ray from Minnesota.

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