Tico Tico

We're snowed in today, so I went down in the basement and made this video. You can see more stuff like this at http://luthiertube.com/.

Sycamore Ditson

Here's a video of me playing the Reverend Gary Davis song, "Sally, Where'd You Get the Liquor From."

Are There Other Things?

Well, it's been over a month since I've posted here. The heading of this post hearkens back to my days on the faculty at Indiana University, when the chairman of our department would say at monthly department meetings, after he had talked about what he wanted to discuss, "Are there other things?"

There are always lots of other things. I haven't posted on the blog lately, but I have been writing. My current project is to write a letter, however brief (and many of them are quite brief), to dear little Magnolia. I'm going to try to keep that going for a year, at least. I've only missed one day since she was born on October 22.

I devoutly wish that some of my ancestors had done something similar for me. I have done a lot of genealogic research, but I would love to know more about what was going on the in world of my ancestors and what they thought about it.

Magnolia Blue

I'm a little tardy posting this, but we are overjoyed to have our first grandchild, Magnolia Blue Cory, born Oct. 22, 2007. For further details, see her blog at http://magnoliabluecory.blogspot.com/

Gems From the Writer's Almanac

The following quote appeared on the Writer's Almanac on Thursday, September 13, the birthday of Roald Dahl, author of, among other things, James and the Giant Peach:

Roald Dahl said, "A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom."

I also heard recently on the Writer's Almanac that Robert Persig submitted the manuscript of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance to 121 publishers before it was accepted. This has inspired me to start submitting my short story "Josephine," a sort of parody of a Franz Kafka story, to another half dozen literary magazines.

Elvis is Dead But I Don't Feel That Bad Myself

Today is the 30th anniversary of the death of the King. In honor of the event I downloaded his Ultimate Gospel album from the iTunes store. I learned today that Elvis won 3 Grammys during his life, all for gospel music. In 1967, Elvis won the Grammy for best sacred performance for the album "How Great Thou Art." His second Grammy, for best inspirational performance, came in 1972 for his gospel album "He Touched Me," and he won a third Grammy in 1974 for best inspirational performance (nonclassical) for "How Great Thou Art."

Amen.

Another Piece of Evidence in the Arthur Griffith Case

While going through some family photos and papers, I went through a small ledger book which my grandfather kept. One entry in particular, for April 15, 1918, caught my eye. Grandpa received 30 cents in drill (probably referring to a device for planting seeds) rent from H. Griffith, who was no doubt Harvey Griffith, father of Arthur (Pooze) Griffith, famed Milford calculating prodigy. So here is more evidence that my grandfather knew Pooze Griffith's family.

Independence Day 2007

July 4, 2007. Independence Day. This summer, I devote a significant portion of my days to expediting the defecation of two large canines—our son’s dogs, entrusted to our care for the summer while he does an internship at an Indianapolis law firm. But the multiple walks each day are not wasted, thanks to my iPod. Today I caught up on a week’s worth of podcasts of Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac. I learned that Helen Keller, prone to temper tantrums, knocked out a tooth of Annie Sullivan at their first meeting. Things improved from there. I also learned that Ernest Hemingway was in two plane clashes in Africa and suffered a skull fracture and concussion. The implication was that his depression and suicide were linked to the head trauma, which may or may not be true. He was asked to write a tribute to JFK for Kennedy’s inauguration. It took Papa a week to come up with four sentences.

Finally, I heard on the Writer’s Almanac for today a poem entitled “Pastoral” by physician-author-poet William Carlos Williams:

When I was younger
it was plain to me
I must make something of myself.
Older now
I walk back streets
admiring the houses
of the very poor:
roof out of line with sides
the yards cluttered
with old chicken wire, ashes,
furniture gone wrong;
the fences and outhouses
built of barrel staves
and parts of boxes, all,
if I am fortunate,
smeared a bluish green
that properly weathered
pleases me best of all colors.

No one
will believe this
of vast import to the nation.

How to Avoid Writing

Those who are compelled by temperament, neurosis, or outright psychosis to put pen to paper or to peck at a keyboard may suffer from an even stronger compulsion, which is to avoid writing. Why should this be? Perfectionism may be a factor. If I cannot sit down and produce verbiage on a par with John Updike, with flawless use of metaphor, plot, subplot, and complex characters, why bother? Yet if I do not attempt to write, I may feel even worse than if I do.

There are of course, myriad reasons one should not write. One must be prepared. One must understand, must formulate, must compose before putting thoughts on paper. One should know which of those little sliding things to move on the computer screen to get a hanging indent. Indeed, one should know what a hanging indent is, and when it should be used. Research such as this takes time. Should one launch into an essay or short story without knowing how to turn off that annoying cartoon paper clip that thinks it knows what kind of document you are typing and offers its help? I think not, and wading through help menus takes time.

Beyond the mere mechanics of writing, it is necessary to have in mind something to write about. Aye, there’s the rub. Should one play the role of the politician and pontificate on any topic whether informed or not? The answer is a resounding “No!”

Take this morning, when I thought I would sit down and write about a letter that my great uncle had written to his sister, my grandmother, early in the twentieth century. He ended the letter by saying that his scalp was itching because he had rabbits, and that my grandmother should be careful because there may be rabbits in the letter. Apparently, rabbit was a slang term for head lice. Is this common knowledge? Not to me. What a wonderful opportunity to research and avoid writing.

Back in the day, as the young folks are so fond of saying these days, research involved going to the library, riffling through card catalogues and poring over The Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature. Those quaint practices have been rendered obsolete by the internet. It is interesting that as I type this essay on a laptop computer wirelessly connected to the internet through my home network, the word processing software puts squiggly red lines under the words internet, wirelessly, and even squiggly, indicating these words are unrecognized by the software and potentially incorrect. I can understand how squiggly may be suspect, as it is a lame word, but in 2007, internet and wirelessly should be accepted parts of the lexicon. Perhaps I need to upgrade from Word 97.

But I digress. Being connected to the internet, I go to the modern equivalent of the card catalog and The Reader’s Guide—Google (another red squiggly line appears). I type in “rabbits lice.” References to scientific experiments involving the two species appear, but not too far down the list is a link to an article by P.J. O’Rourke published in The Atlantic in 2003. The essay is an account of his daughter’s infestation by head lice and includes facts he had gathered by researching the topic in the New England Journal of Medicine and other sources. One of his sources was The American Thesaurus of Slang, published in the 1940s, which gave the following synonyms for lice: seam squirrels, shimmy lizards, and pants rabbits. I believe these sobriquets apply to pubic lice, more commonly known today by the trans-species appellation crabs.

Ah, now, armed with knowledge, I am ready to write. Or am I? Should I not go to the primary source myself? Of course. Perhaps The American Thesaurus of Slang is in the public domain and available online. I Google the title. Alas, no electronic version is available, but there appears a link to Worldcat.com, which tells me that a tangible copy sits on a shelf at the local campus of Indiana University, a tantalizing 13 miles away. Should I go? No, wait. In the endless list of links produced by Google is a review from a librarians’ journal. I must read it to know if it’s worth the effort to go on a quest for the book. The reviewer is ga-ga over the book. I must have it, but I don’t have checkout privileges at the university. I go to the public library catalog online. They don’t have The American Thesaurus of Slang, but they have a copy of the more recently published Thesaurus of American Slang. Maybe that’s close enough. Another blessed respite from writing calls to me. I could drive to the library, find the book, perhaps browse the CDs in the Sights and Sounds section, maybe read a magazine. No, I think, I must write.

But first, I’ll see if a copy of the older book is for sale. After all, any writer worth his salt should have his own copy of this invaluable reference. A search at Amazon.com reveals that the book is out of print, but a few used copies are available, ranging in price from less than eight dollars to more than a hundred, depending on condition. Thirty to fifty dollars would buy a copy in good condition. Hmmm, have to think about it.

And so, I can arise from the keyboard with all the pride of George W. Bush when he stood in a flight suit on the deck of an aircraft carrier and declared an end to major combat in Iraq four years ago. Mission accomplished! I have avoided writing—sort of.

An Answer to Doctors Behaving Badly

Below is a letter I sent in response to a copy of a policy I received from one of the hospitals where I work:

Dear Sam:

Congratulations on your ascent to the presidency of the medical staff. While any interest I might have had in the administrative aspects of modern medicine was extinguished by my four years as chairman of the radiology department, I salute those who heed the call to medical staff leadership, however thankless and poorly remunerated the job may be.

I am responding to your memo of April 18 requesting comment on the draft Medical Staff Code of Conduct Policy. As I read through this substantial document of eight pages, plus the additional page covering the Retaliation and Retribution Policy, I was struck by the complexity of our efforts to regulate human behavior. Perhaps this is necessary, given the complexity of human beings. I think it’s unlikely these policies will be widely read, particularly by those most likely to violate the standards contained therein. At least they won’t be read until it’s too late and the offenders are called on the carpet. I’d like to suggest that instead we distribute to all members of the medical staff a single sheet of paper bearing a single statement:

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Each member of the medical staff would be required to return a signed copy of this document to be placed in his or her file as an indication that he or she read this sentence, and that he or she understands there will be consequences if this admonition is ignored. It may be somewhat controversial using this principle as a medical staff policy, since it was uttered by Jesus. However, since we work at a Catholic institution, we may be able to pull it off. We could produce a more ecumenical version if necessary. For instance, Buddha said, “Consider others as yourself.” Confucius said, “What you do not wish upon yourself, extend not to others.” Passages in the Koran, the Torah, and the Bhagavad Gita all contain similar sentiments. Even atheists would have trouble mounting an argument against this principle. We wouldn’t have to tell them it comes from the Bible, unless corporate counsel feels full disclosure is required.

Thank you for considering this proposal.

Yours truly,



David A. Cory, M.D.