And, if so, Will You Get in Touch and Tell Me?
Explanation:
A One-Step Bewilderment Reduction Program
Remember when you used to go to movie theaters?
If you got there early, while you waited for the film you actually wanted to see, you sat and watched trailers for upcoming films. The volume suddenly soared; a very manly announcer’s voice resonated in every direction; and men who seemed to be both tightly controlled and very angry hit each other or shot at each other, and then jumped into cars and peeled through city streets in hot pursuit and equally hot flight.
This post actually constitutes a trailer, though with no angry men and no fistfights and no car chases. And in the place of the manly announcer’s stentorian tones, you have only my gentle, soothing, feminine voice of persuasion.
In this special edition of “Not My First Rodeo,” you will get glimpses of a soon-to-be-launched series of snippets. According to Merriam-Webster, a snippet is “a small piece, part, or thing, especially a brief quotable passage.” I am deeply grateful to Merriam-Webster for that last part about the “brief quotable passage” as a characterization of what lies before you.
This new series is called “Did Anyone Else Notice?” I want it to serve as a flagpole where people who are looking for kindred spirits can rally. The kindred spirits I have in mind are people who have spent much of 2020 asking themselves, “What on earth is going on here?” I want this site to offer a place of assembly for people with minds that qualify for that excellent adjective, quirky. A return visit to Merriam-Webster is now in order: quirky means “unusual in an especially interesting or appealing way.”
If you know you have a quirky mind, you are in the right place. And if you are not yourself confident about your qualifications but you can tolerate being in the company of the quirky, you are also in the right place.
Even the most gifted community organizer would have a hard time persuading the quirky-minded and quirky-tolerant sectors of society to join together in a movement. And yet there is a chance that the creation of such a movement could refresh and revitalize tired old habits of thought in a worn-out nation. Launching “Did Anyone Else Notice?” is a small-scale experiment to check out such a possibility.
“Did Anyone Else Notice?” also bears a slight—well, extremely slight – resemblance to the work of the Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence, or SETI. In the manner of the signals SETI sends out into the universe to make contact with thinking creatures in distant locales, the posts in this series are signals sent from one eccentric terrestrial (ET) to make contact with other eccentric terrestrials who may be traveling along similar lines of thought.
When I ask, “Did Anyone Else Notice?” I am hoping—not for a validation of my own originality—but evidence that I am not alone.
For all the eccentricity and quirkiness on display with this initiative, each of these acts of noticing connects to issues that register as crucial and consequential in our time. In this first run, I will include the Backstories behind the four snippets that make their debut this “Not My First Rodeo” post. But when the snippets in “Did Anyone Else Notice?” appear in the future, they will stand on their own.
So here goes the first run of sending out quirky signals and hoping that signals in solidarity will soon be on their way back to me at pnl@centerwest.org.
Please “CLICK” on blue title of each post to hear the audio recording.
#1: Did Anyone Else Notice . . .
. . . that the failure to recruit hundreds of young historians is a major reason why contact tracing has floundered as a means to limit the spread of Covid-19?
Contact tracing—that is, the practice of talking with people who have been diagnosed with the Covid-19 and asking them to identify people who have been in their company—initially seemed very promising. If you could discover a chain of encounters, teams of workers could keep track of exposures and encourage those at risk to limit their interactions with others.
The weakness of this plan was predictable: when a stranger calls and asks questions about an individual’s recent social encounters, distrust gears up fast, and interviews can end before they begin.
So where could we find a profession trained to anticipate and deal with this distrust?
The answer is clear.
To persuade witnesses to history to talk openly about their memories, practitioners in the field of oral history have had to figure out how to use patience and persuasion to gain the trust of their sources. Just as important, oral historians have had to learn how to create and maintain well-organized records of their findings.
The United States has an abundance of young people who majored in history and who are frequently told that there is no demand for their skills. But these young people carry into the world the ability to take in and reflect carefully on perspectives and stories, even when—especially when—they are in terrain charged with emotional intensity. Equally important as a qualification, the cohort of under-employed young historians originate in every locale and region of the United States, represent many ethnic and racial groups, and are, literally, at home in every variety of urban, rural, and suburban communities. Rather than “strangers,” these are place-based young folks whose roots provide them with an advantage in local credibility.
If there were ever a “kill two birds with one stone” situation (with apologies, birds, for this callous figure of speech), this project—to give contact tracing a fresh start by a massive recruitment of young historians—fits the bill.
#1: The Backstory
Aligned in sentiment with billions of people, I am worried about the spread of Covid-19, and I would like to see the method of contact tracing have the best possible chance to show that it could help curtail contagion. But long before I had any reason to pay attention to contact tracing, I had adopted the custom of seizing every opportunity to push for the hiring of young historians. On innumerable occasions, when young people declare that they love the study of history, they hear—from a chorus of parents, uncles, aunts, grandparents, neighbors, friends, even history teachers—that they should choose a major more likely to get them a job. These stories would be disheartening under any circumstances. In a nation suffering from a bad case of amnesia and general obliviousness to the past, these stories are unbearable. Meanwhile, every appraisal of contact tracing identifies obstacles and difficulties that well-trained historians are equipped to deal with and manage. In this instance and many others, I dream of a changed world in which young people say that they want to major in history, and everyone around them competes to congratulate them on the wise choice they have made to position themselves for a comfortable livelihood.
#2 Did Anyone Else Notice . . . .
. . . that the nation’s pollsters may have recovered too fast from their bout with humility?
In 2016, just a few days after the November election, I had the wild experience of attending the convention of the International Association of Political Consultants. Nearly every speaker confessed to being freaked out by the election results. (None of them used the term “freaked out,” but every one of them manifested the symptoms associated with that state of mind.) A good share of the freaked-out speakers were professional pollsters, and they led the pack in chagrin, self-examination, and humility.
That humility lingered for a while. But then pollsters started to cut back on reminiscing about their missteps in 2016. Here’s what I think I have seen in the last few months: the near-evaporation of humility in the profession of polling.
The results of new polls are announced every few days (or maybe I meant to say every few minutes). Every now and then, those results are accompanied with an acknowledgment of sectors of society that the polls may have missed, or of undertones that may have figured in the phrasing of the polls’ questions, or of the obstacles to reaching a definitive interpretation of the numbers.
The humility I heard from every pollster speaking at the International Association of Political Consultants seems to have lost its grip.
To help with a possible restoration of tempered self-confidence in pollsters, I have dug out the two limericks I wrote at the conference in November of 2016.
The folks in charge of the polls
Have loosened their grip on their goals.
Once cheerful and strong,
They’re now shown to be wrong–
A significant blow to their souls.
This week, the presidential race
Delivered a pie in the face.
And the liberal elite,
Now flummoxed and beat,
Still soldiers on without grace.
#2: The Backstory
I am constantly astonished by my good fortune at landing at the right place at the right time. With absolutely nothing in the way of foresighted planning on my part, I had accepted an invitation to give a luncheon speech (on the history of women’s suffrage in Colorado) at the Denver convention of the International Association of Political Consultants. Anyone who has ever puzzled over my addiction to public speaking should be reminded that speech-making regularly gave me the chance to go undercover and infiltrate places where insiders, from particular professions, shared affiliations, or commitments to activism or advocacy, are going to assemble, and where I will be a rank outsider who sits, unnoticed, in their midst. But of all my opportunities to snoop, my immersion in the company of political consultants was one of the best. The pollsters in the group were only a few days away from a massive humiliation in their failed predictions of the presidential election. They had received a massive comeuppance. The feelings of meekness, humility, and shaken self-confidence and self-esteem were in the vey air we breathed in our hotel conference room.
Over the last four years, I have watched the humility and meekness seep out of the pollster ambiance, while self-confidence and self-esteem have moved forward to fill that void. Watching the pollsters come back swinging inspired me to tell the story of what I saw at that memorable conference in 2016. In the least significant feature of that experience, the past lost out to the present. Trying to absorb the outcome of the presidential election, many of the conference attendees left the luncheon before my speech on the history of women’s suffrage began. With the twists and turns of the current moment, my topic had been suddenly rendered quaint and dated, victim of a steep drop in the intrinsic interest of history.
#3: Did Anyone Else Notice . . .
. . . that we would be better off if we had more conspiracy theories?
What?
We are living in a nation that is chronically unsettled and agitated by the proliferation of the darned things, and I think we should have more of them?
Well, yes.
But first we have to restore meaning and power to that key word: theory.
A real theory is a proposition that will not go anywhere until it is tested and supported—or disproved—by evidence. A “doubtful assertion, made with certainty,” is another creature entirely.
But let’s say I had an actual theory alleging conspiracy. In fact, I do!
I sometimes wonder if there is a plot by Western American historians to publish more and more very good books in order to torment me, since they know I will never have time to read them all.
If I proposed that theory and you found it of interest, you would have your work cut out for you. You would have to sit down with the book advertisements that the Western History Association assembles, and you would then compile a list of these recently published, very good books. Then you would have to send out a barrage of emails to authors and ask them why they wrote these books.
If a good number of them admitted that they wrote their books to torment Patty Limerick by making it clear to her that she would never catch up with the research in her field, we could then rechristen my theory as an evidence-supported fact, and I could assert it with a degree of certainty. But if your inquiry elicited only denials that any scheme had been under way, you could still go on a search for evidence that might reveal that their denials were unconvincing. But while you conducted this search, my suspicion would have to remain a theory since it could not be definitely proven or disproven. Eventually, my theory could be set loose to fade away from its own ridiculousness.
And yet, as doubtful as my own conspiracy theory may be, when I look at the proliferation of very good books about Western history that I own and do not have time to read, I cannot help thinking there is actually a plot at work here.
#3: The Backstory
For many years, as the ideas of truth, fact, and accuracy have become ever more besieged, I have been yearning for inspiration on how I might effectively play a small part in their rescue. In recent times, I have become ever more preoccupied with the weird way that the word theory keeps getting applied to what are actually beliefs that people usually declare with complete certainty. In other words, rather than putting forward a theory for appraisal and testing, individuals and groups who report a conspiracy take the stance that they have uncovered a concealed reality.
Postponing the rescue of truth, fact, and accuracy for another day, I thought I might get started with an attempt to restore the word theory to the ownership of its actual meaning. Initially, I thought I would select one of the innumerable “conspiracy theories” circulating in the world today. But then I realized that my effort might well be more diplomatic and persuasive if I made fun of myself and put forward a theory of my own. I do not actually believe that younger Western historians keep writing very good books in order to torment me, but I do have moments when it feels as if all those energetic and gifted young scholars may be up to something that is not entirely done in my interest. So now I feel some pride in the graciousness of my volunteering to serve as my own target for mockery. As to whether my attempted rescue of the word theory could do anything to perk up the force of truth in the nation today, my expectations are modest. Still, I am now geared up to try an edgier move soon, pointing out how the academic embrace of post-modernist theory made its own contribution to undermining the force of truth. Surely many other humanities scholars have noticed that misfortune, but most have had the sense to keep that noticing to themselves.
#4: Did Anyone Else Notice . . .
. . . that living people recently acquired a license to compete with ghosts?
This unexpected development was revealed in the New York Times on September 22, 2020, in a quotation from Jim Manley, who worked as an aide to Senator Harry Reid. Describing the context for the process of appointing Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s successor, Manley declared: “The ghost of Merrick Garland hangs very heavily over the Senate right now.”
My first thought: had I missed the obituary for Judge Garland? No, I hadn’t. He lives, and by all appearances, he is in robust health.
My second thought: I had no idea that living people might share with ghosts the power to haunt. We can appear, spectrally, wherever we want, and we can hang around even when efforts are made to exorcise us!
My third thought: I am having a hard time figuring out where we should show up.
Thus, my fourth thought: this is a wonderful opportunity to invite the friends and affiliates of the Center of the American West to help me out.
Which venues and arenas, ideally in Western America, would most benefit if we showed up and haunted the people assembled there?
It goes without saying that our form of haunting is going to be life-affirming and spirit-lifting (so to speak), and never scary or creepy.
So where shall we all waft, float, or glide first? I suppose we could try the Senate, but maybe we want to work up to that.
#4: The Backstory
The things that people say inadvertently and unintentionally are often a lot more enjoyable—and oftentimes more insightful—than what they meant to say. I have always been enchanted by this phenomenon—and when I say “always,” I mean it. My parents believed deeply in the faith that proper grammar was an essential pillar of civilization. They were on constant alert for verbal slip-ups, which rarely got by them. But they were good-humored people, and they were often amused by these missteps. So I had learned to laugh at statements that had lost their footing before I was anywhere near fluent in the English language. And, to this day, if someone misspeaks, or unthinkingly uses a word with a double meaning, or matches a noun with a modifier that was supposed to apply to a different noun, then I am nearly ecstatic. (The last item in that series got a little technical, but misplaced modifiers really are a delight.)
When Jim Manley referred to Merrick Garland as a ghostly presence haunting the Senate, I knew Manley did not mean for us to take his statement literally. But I also knew that the First Amendment endows us with the right to misunderstand at will (I am not sure that the Supreme Court has made a definitive ruling on this interpretation, but that could be on the horizon).
So I exercised that right. I am glad to have been told that we do not have to wait for an appointment with death before we take on the job of haunting. But I do need help in figuring out where we should put this new power into action, since there are so many places that are in urgent need of hovering figures who serve as reminders of the consequences others may try to evade.
Coming Soon, to a Screen Very Near You
Next week, “Not My First Rodeo” will return to its usual free-range style of operation. From time to time in the coming weeks, snippets in the “Did Anyone Else Notice?” series will appear on your screen. To repeat my earlier request, please make sure to let me know if your answer turns out to be “Yes, in fact, I did notice” by emailing me.
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