Monday, February 25, 2008

The Choice to Ignore

"What are you listening to?"

The question jerked me away from my less-than engrossing work and left me staring at one of my scowling co-workers.

"NPR," I replied. I glanced quickly at the small radio perched on the shelf next to me as if to assure myself of the fact.

"Why?" he asked, his faced scrunched in bewilderment.

The question hung in the air for a moment, buoyed not by curiosity but total puzzlement. As if, instead of quietly listening to a radio program, I had been playing with myself in the corner with a bucket on my head.

My answer did little to satisfy him, and after being treated in the same fashion by two more co-workers I decided to change the station. Muttering to myself as I dialed up some easy-listening shitshow, I was left to ponder why learning something about the world we live in so easily offends sensitive ears. The 'fascist' program I had the audacity to listen to consisted of an interview with an expert and distinguished professor commenting on a controversial aspect of his field of study. At no time did the program suggest that his comments were anything other than his opinion, and the interviewer asked some tough questions. Yet this proved to be too much for the average person.

That 'average person' is getting worse everyday.

Take the current Iraq War, an issue on the minds of virtually every American and of which most have a very strong opinion. A 2006 National Geographic poll found that only 23 percent of college educated people could locate Iraq on a map. Even more Americans think that Iraq was behind 9/11. This lack of knowledge is troubling by itself. When you consider the opening sentence of this paragraph, it's even worse: most Americans have strong opinions about a topic of which they are not even familiar with the basic facts.

The list goes on. A poll conducted in 2007 for Newsweek by Princeton Survey Research Associates International found that 48 percent of people polled do not believe in evolution. A 2006 TIME magazine poll found that children age 15 to 19 spend seven minutes reading on the weekend. My experience as a culinary educator suggests that more Americans can identify a Big Mac than garlic.

Can I just say that I'm sick of ignorance?

Notice that I'm not saying 'stupid' people. There is a big difference. Stupid people may or may not contribute any more ideas to our nation than ignorant people, but they have far less control over the situation. You could send Forest Gump to all the philosophy seminars you want; he's still going to come out staring at his box of chocolates. People don't choose to be stupid any more than they choose to be tall and brunette.

Yet that's precisely the problem with ignorance - it's simply intellectual laziness. People CHOOSE to be ignorant. The co-worker I mentioned earlier is an intelligent, educated man who seems to have two fully functioning ears and some ability to think critically. He is fully capable of listening to an NPR show and digesting the information. He just chose not to. Compounding the problem is the perception that being ignorant is a sound and perfectly acceptable stance. In fact, it is considered odd to be curious about unfamiliar subjects and engage in thought-provoking activities (like reading books or listening to NPR).

Critical thought and intellectual activities are being pushed so far out of the mainstream that they are perceived as odd. Yet there are no prequalifiers for them. You don't have to be Einstein to listen to NPR or read a newspaper. You don't have to be a genius to listen to Mozart or read Moby Dick. Anybody can do it.

It would be remiss of me not to mention the impact of two developments in America that have dramatically hindered the average person's perceived access to thought-provoking activities: George Bush's presidency and the continued influence of religion.

Let's start with Bush. The President, whether we like it or not, still wields a powerful influence over our citizenship. He is a leader by default. While Bush's many personal and policy gaffes are certainly embarrassing, the real damage comes from the example he sets by committing these gaffes as President. Or, as Garry Trudeau stated in 2002: "It never occurs to [Bush] that it might be important for the Leader of the Free World to express himself with clarity and coherence. Bush is plenty smart - and he's technically educated - but because of his natural incuriosity about the wider world, he has fought a crippling, life-long battle with ignorance." These two sentences reflect the essence of our nation's information problem, and the tone is being set by a man entrusted with being our leader.

The second foe to the goal of informed and active citizenship is religion. While I am in no way suggesting that religion is entirely bad, it has far more negative effects than positive ones especially pertaining to this issue. In order to truly believe in any religion, one must wholeheartedly ignore much of the evidence science had accumulated regarding our world and universe. Rigid principles are established, often with no supported evidence from our surroundings. Religion encourages people to never change their minds and to never pursue the knowable aspects of our world. You never have to make a case for what you believe in. Instilling these principles into the minds of children is, without question, the single greatest detriment to the growth and development of young minds...and thus our world.

As with George Bush, religion authorizes ignorance and turns lack of understanding into a virtue.

We are at intellectual war in this country. While we certainly cannot force people to be informed, we can confront the people who champion being uninformed and attempt to alter our way of life at the polls and in our lives. There is nothing more lethal to personal and national progress than ignorant views propelled by blind conviction. Let's start ending them!

Friday, February 15, 2008

Seen Fleetingly, From a Train

BRONISLAW MAJ
translated from Polish by Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Hass

Seen fleetingly, from a train:
a foggy evening, strands of smoke
hanging immobile over fields,
the humid blackness of earth, the sun
almost set - against its fading shield,
far away, two dots: women in dark wraps
coming back from church perhaps
one telling something to another, some common story,
of sinful lives perhaps - her words
distinct and simple but out of them
one could create everything
again. Keep it in memory, forever:
the sun, ploughed earth, women,
love, evening, those few words
good for the beginning, keep it all -
perhaps tomorrow we will be
somewhere else, altogether.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Ishmael's Chowder

"I want to eat some clam chowder."

This statement came to me abruptly via a phone line connection to my uncle in Philadelphia. He was making his maiden voyage to coastal Maine from his land-locked city, he explained, and he had a short to-do list.

"I want some authentic, New England clam chowder," he demanded.

"Sure," I almost stammered. Granted, I had just moved to Maine (and you're not a true Mainer unless you were conceived, born, weaned, raised and educated within state confines), but this hardly seemed like a difficult request.

After all, chowder is an integral and inseperable aspect of local culture. For as long as there has been New England, fisherman have been throwing leftover seafood and vegetables into large stewing pots (called chaudiere in French, which thus became the name of the soup itself). To thicken and flavor these soups, readily available ingredients like salt pork and biscuits were added. Clams, being extremely plentiful, were a popular addition, and by the early nineteenth century clam chowder was a bona fide favorite.

Chowder in New England? It's like asking for Elvis trinkets in Memphis, traffic jams in Los Angeles or drizzly depression in Seattle. You don't find the chowder in New England; the chowder will find you.

With this in mind, I confidently whisked my uncle off after his arrival to dowtown Portland. Like a giant clam itself, the restaurant in mind sat lodged in the sandy harborfront and boasted a menu brimming with plenty of seafood. We eased into our seats and immediatly scanned the menu for our creamy goal.

After a few moments my uncle's eyes peered over his menu. An eyebrow lurched.

"No chowder?"

I couldn't believe it. He was right. There was no chowder. They had lobster, halibut, and Jonah crab. They had Cobb salad. They had burgers, ruebens and meatloaf, spani...spanikopita! And no chowder? I profusely apologized to my uncle and assured him that we would be slurping chowder by this time the next day.

What in the name of Harvard Yard was going on here? Chowder isn't just a New England delicacy; it's part of the local culture. Herman Melville's famous book Moby Dick is full of New England imagery and sees fit to devote a whole chapter to chowder. The characters Ismael and Queequeg, shortly before boarding the Pequod and taking on the whale, visit a Nantucket chowder house. One look at the sexy cauldren of chowder and they proceed to fall in love: "It was made of small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuit and salted pork cut up into little flakes; the whole enriched with butter and pletifully seasoned with pepper and salt ... being surpassingly excellent, we despatched it with great expedition."

With history and literature on my side I led my uncle the following day to another Portland restaurant I was assured had chowder. We plopped into our chairs and asked our waitress for chowder. There was no need for menus.

"Oh it's sooo good here!" she bubbled. "Today's chowder is cod with ... "

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," I interrupted with a wave. "We want clam chowder."

The waitress rolled her eyes. "No, silly. Tuesday and Saturday is clam chowder. Today's Wednesday."

My uncle groaned. I slid down into my chair and buried my face into the menu. They had spanikopita.

Granted, there are other varieties of chowder. Manhatten chowder is a common variety that uses tomatos. There are some chowders that feature other seafood, such as cod or halibut. Rhode Island is known for a chowder with a clearer broth. (Rhode Islanders are known for their food quirks - milk shakes are 'cabinets', doughnuts are 'doughboys', and pancakes are 'Jonnycakes'). Conch chowder is popular in the Florida Keys and corn chowder is a well known and delicious soup in its own right. But setting anything other than clam chowder in front of a New Englander is like dropping tofu chili in front of a Texan.

If my final attempt - named Gilbert's Chowder House - did not have clam chowder, I was calling it quits and moving to California. Indeed they had it, and it arrived to our table steaming hot and packed full of clams and potato. For just a moment, Gilbert's melted away and I remembered Ishmael and Queequeg in that long-lost chowder house before us. Despite the Pequod and our fates moored out in the fog, all that mattered in world was the sauna of creamy chowder under our faces. Being surpassingly excellent, we dispatched it with great expedition.

Fortunately for my uncle, his trip turned out to be slightly less perilous then Ishamel's (though he did fly United). He returned to Philadelphia knowing that one bowl of chowder can reveal a slab of salty New England's past. It just takes a little searching.