Saya dudok di-rumah yang besar di-tepi mata ayer yang besar lagi tawar(1) nama-nya Tahoe. Dia di-antara gunong Sierra Nevada. Rumah di-atas kebun senang (2) tempat saya lari ka-sana ka-mana masa saya budak. Dahulu lari, sekarang ta’ senang. Kerja di-negeri nama-nya Tahoe City. Sa-malam keluar dengan bapa ka-pekan ka-kedai tempat beli makan minum (3) beli buah pisang roti sa-keping sa-peti susu. Sudah pulang rumah, simpan.
(1) “lake”- “big freshwater spring” is the closest I could do
(2) “vacation resort”
(3) “grocery store” – ‘pasar’ seemed too broad.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Sic Semper Tyrannis (No, I Don’t Know How To Say It In Korean)
I have been following with the interest the events of the tense succession crisis in North Korea. Kim Jong Il, “the Dear Leader”, has appointed his younger son, Kim Jong Un, as “the Brilliant Comrade”, passing over the elder son, whose name I do not recall seeing. I do know, however, that there is speculation that the elder son was passed over for the dubious honor of leadership of North Korea because he attempted to enter Japanese Disneyland with a fake passport. Such disgraceful behavior is reminiscent of the Athenian suitor for the daughter of the tyrant in Corinth, who drunkenly danced away his chance at her hand and then brazenly claimed he had no regrets. Kim Jong Un’s title as “Comrade”, rather than “Leader”, does not have a precedent in the previous transfer of power; in that case, the government announced the change without any previous suggestion of the ailing health or recent demise of “the Great Leader”. The elevation of “Comrade” to the meaning of “Crown Prince” (the final blow to a title founded in radical egalitarianism) suggests that the Dear Leader is still alive, but incapacitated. How much true power the Brilliant Comrade will wield if and when he becomes the Brilliant Leader is a vexing question, in light of the nuclear tests and the characteristics of the third generations of Kim tyrants. I should pause to explain that my Classical training has taught me to use “tyrant” as a technical political term (rather than a near generic term of political abuse), which indicates a “bad” monarchy, one which has no cultural or historical legitimacy in the country in which it establishes itself. In general, the Greek tyrannies began with an ambitious man who rallied his countrymen under the banner of improving their condition, who overthrew the current government, and who (if fortunate enough to avoid assassination) passed his rule onto his son. Most Greek tyrannies collapsed in the second generation; those which survived did so because they had transformed into pseudo-monarchies. These states remained pseudo-monarchies because they lacked the clear line of succession which (most) monarchies possessed. The third generation was the last for the tyrannical dynasties. Even the Syracusan tyranny, which approached most closely the ideal of monarchy, fell in the third generation, only to be re-established about a century later, and those latter tyrants claimed a descent from the former in imitation of monarchy.
The presence of two brothers in the rising generation is not reassuring. Even in monarchies which had a clear succession, there was often much tension between the Crown Prince and his younger brothers, such as the sons of William the Conqueror, or the Emperor Vespasian; in monarchies which lacked this tradition, such as the Ottoman Empire and the empire of the Mongol Horde, fratricide was a common occurance. A few occurances of happy balance have existed, such as the harmony between Emperor Charles V and his brother, but for the most part history and legend record conflicts such as that of Romulus and Remus, Caracalla and Geta, and the sons of Solomon, allegedly the “wisest” king of all history. Even if the brothers themselves do not seek to quarrel, the internal parties of the state (and they always exist) now have the opportunity to support their own candidate and undermine that of their rival, whereas a lone son can be a puppet in equal measure, but does not provide the same opportunity.
In this age, inimical to the establishment of new pseudo-monarchies and not exactly friendly to the existing established monarchies, I would not expect that the Kim tyranny will survive a third generation. How much the eventual collapse will damage the world, given North Korea’s posturing, remains to be seen.
The presence of two brothers in the rising generation is not reassuring. Even in monarchies which had a clear succession, there was often much tension between the Crown Prince and his younger brothers, such as the sons of William the Conqueror, or the Emperor Vespasian; in monarchies which lacked this tradition, such as the Ottoman Empire and the empire of the Mongol Horde, fratricide was a common occurance. A few occurances of happy balance have existed, such as the harmony between Emperor Charles V and his brother, but for the most part history and legend record conflicts such as that of Romulus and Remus, Caracalla and Geta, and the sons of Solomon, allegedly the “wisest” king of all history. Even if the brothers themselves do not seek to quarrel, the internal parties of the state (and they always exist) now have the opportunity to support their own candidate and undermine that of their rival, whereas a lone son can be a puppet in equal measure, but does not provide the same opportunity.
In this age, inimical to the establishment of new pseudo-monarchies and not exactly friendly to the existing established monarchies, I would not expect that the Kim tyranny will survive a third generation. How much the eventual collapse will damage the world, given North Korea’s posturing, remains to be seen.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Canoe Training 2009
On Saturday, June 7, the troop went on its annual Canoe Training outing. This was a single day outing, unlike previous years.. Originally, we had been scheduled to go on the Canoe Training this weekend, and the Whitewater Trip earlier, which everybody loves, but sufficient volume at Cash Creek is dependent on the release of water from Clear Lake, and that release is dependent on the irrigation schedule of the Valley; apparently the water flow of California is entirely artificial (Charlie Johnck, hydrologist, might be able to enlighten me). After a great deal of schedule changes, including the cancellation of the earlier date due to rain, we ended up back on the original date, but we could only get one day. I will say, however, that the ranger at Tam-O-Rancho is a lot more personable than the old ranger at Royaneh.
We had no staff, so The World’s Best Patrol Leader (I can’t use real names, obviously) took point and sent two Scouts up the (unconventional) trail to scout - unfortunately, at one of the young men had a rather impulsive character and neither returned in a timely fashion. The troop went down to the lake by the usual way and found the “scouts” already there. This lake is small and artificial, created by an permanent earthen dam. There were more weeds than usual, part of which we removed my by hand.
The dock was on the far side of the lake; its square components were tied together in a straight line, with the exception of the final one, whose placement on the side provided a larger platform on which to take the first step from the bank. Some of the older guys marched counter-clockwise along the banks of the lake in order to paddle the dock across. At first, the boys made headway, but it became clear that something was restraining the rather awkwardly shaped dock-boat. It was clear also that the crew of this “craft” was not composed of crew members. Eventually, the anchor was located, although half sank when a certain person detached it. The new placement of the dock almost blocked the shallow basin from the deeper part of the lake.
Once the set up had been completed, the Old Man administered the swim tests and deliberately if not maliciously mangled some names, while I climbed into the lookout post. Only one boy expressed reluctance, and fortunately he tried and won in the end; to spend the entire day on the shore while all the other boys were in the canoes would be extremely boring and frustrating!
Although I had to do paperwork for the Court of Honor (is it that hard to mark down who is present?), an enlightening experience in distinguishing Goofuses and Gallants and the inconvenience of senary percentages, the boys were busy on the lake. The halving (or greater) of the time for practicing strokes and steering diminished the final competence of the candidates for the merit badge. A significant winnowing factor, as usual, was the swamping and righting of a canoe. It is remarkably difficult to swamp your own canoe deliberately (probably a self-preservation trait), but once you achieve the intentional sabotage, the operation of righting the craft presents grave difficulties. There is no support form below, so the only power comes from sufficient upper body strength, which is an absolute division: either it is enough, or it is not. Many Fourteeners have failed in their first year of Canoe Training, only to succeed in the second.
Since all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, there was a half-hour of free time on the water, during which it seemed that half the canoes were sunk (this doesn’t mean they went to the bottom of the lake, since they were still buoyant). The troop dads provided a feast of grilled hot dogs and chips, in addition to largely ignored fruit) before we changed and marched back to the cars.
We had no staff, so The World’s Best Patrol Leader (I can’t use real names, obviously) took point and sent two Scouts up the (unconventional) trail to scout - unfortunately, at one of the young men had a rather impulsive character and neither returned in a timely fashion. The troop went down to the lake by the usual way and found the “scouts” already there. This lake is small and artificial, created by an permanent earthen dam. There were more weeds than usual, part of which we removed my by hand.
The dock was on the far side of the lake; its square components were tied together in a straight line, with the exception of the final one, whose placement on the side provided a larger platform on which to take the first step from the bank. Some of the older guys marched counter-clockwise along the banks of the lake in order to paddle the dock across. At first, the boys made headway, but it became clear that something was restraining the rather awkwardly shaped dock-boat. It was clear also that the crew of this “craft” was not composed of crew members. Eventually, the anchor was located, although half sank when a certain person detached it. The new placement of the dock almost blocked the shallow basin from the deeper part of the lake.
Once the set up had been completed, the Old Man administered the swim tests and deliberately if not maliciously mangled some names, while I climbed into the lookout post. Only one boy expressed reluctance, and fortunately he tried and won in the end; to spend the entire day on the shore while all the other boys were in the canoes would be extremely boring and frustrating!
Although I had to do paperwork for the Court of Honor (is it that hard to mark down who is present?), an enlightening experience in distinguishing Goofuses and Gallants and the inconvenience of senary percentages, the boys were busy on the lake. The halving (or greater) of the time for practicing strokes and steering diminished the final competence of the candidates for the merit badge. A significant winnowing factor, as usual, was the swamping and righting of a canoe. It is remarkably difficult to swamp your own canoe deliberately (probably a self-preservation trait), but once you achieve the intentional sabotage, the operation of righting the craft presents grave difficulties. There is no support form below, so the only power comes from sufficient upper body strength, which is an absolute division: either it is enough, or it is not. Many Fourteeners have failed in their first year of Canoe Training, only to succeed in the second.
Since all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, there was a half-hour of free time on the water, during which it seemed that half the canoes were sunk (this doesn’t mean they went to the bottom of the lake, since they were still buoyant). The troop dads provided a feast of grilled hot dogs and chips, in addition to largely ignored fruit) before we changed and marched back to the cars.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Aphaeresis and (Co-)Efficients
As Mr. Hawkins and the lovely Misses Tew and Ung are aware, I have been attempting to learn some Malay. The initial chapters presented no serious difficulties beyond those which any language book for beginners contain, but two features of the language struck me once I had reached Chapter V. The first, and lesser, of these features is the occasional, and occasionally rather extreme, aphaeresis of words beginning with a schwa or h and a schwa when the previous word ends in a vowel. Elision is the disappearance of a vowel before a following word which begins with a vowel; aphaeresis is the opposite effect. The reduction of hendak to ‘nak and helai to lai after a final vowel is understandable, since the schwa is never the stressed syllable in a two-syllable Malay word, and I presume that the occasional example of (pseudo-)aphaeresis before a final consonant is the result of linguistic analogy. The alternate forms present a minor difficulty to the learners who has not digested the full vocabulary and its linguistic isotopes, but the very preface of my book warns that Malay is not a book language at heart.
If I may digress for a moment to engage in linguistic geekery, the production of ’nak rather than *’ndak from the aphaeresis of hendak should not surprise; the pre-nasalized voiced plosive nd seems to require in Malay an epenthetic schwa in order to be pronounced; thus the elimination of that schwa requires a reduction of the pre-nasalized voiced plosive to either a (voiced) nasal, n, or a voiced plosive, d. Languages, such as Welsh, which face this question, appear to favor the nasal.
The other feature of Malay which struck me was the use of classifiers, which the author of my little blue-and-yellow book chooses to call coefficients. I am familiar with the concept, since Chinese possesses ‘classifiers’ and (Ancient) Middle Egyptian uses a similar system. Chinese places a classifier, which limits the possible meanings of the following monosyllabic or disyllabic word, between the numeral and the head word. Thus, the words for ‘deer’ and ‘road’, which are homonyms, are distinguished in speech by their respective classifiers. Middle Egyptian uses classifiers in the opposite way; since hieroglyphic writing only provides the consonants and omits the semantic content of the vowels, the homonyms are a visual kind (I would greatly appreciate it if anybody could provide me with the appropriate word for this phenomenon) and the scribes distinguished the senses by adding a visible but silent classifier. My experience with these languages aided me in understanding the concept of classifiers or co-efficients in Malay, but this conceptual knowledge is less useful than I would like in the practical application, especially since no dictionary of a language which uses classifiers seems to indicate the appropriate one(s) in their entries. This may be a practice akin to languages which use stress not marking this in their dictionary entries. An additional difficulty which I am experiencing in learning Malay is determining when to use a classifier and when to refrain. I trust that practice will give me a better sense of the presence or absence of this feature, although any practical advice would be received with gratitude.
If I may digress for a moment to engage in linguistic geekery, the production of ’nak rather than *’ndak from the aphaeresis of hendak should not surprise; the pre-nasalized voiced plosive nd seems to require in Malay an epenthetic schwa in order to be pronounced; thus the elimination of that schwa requires a reduction of the pre-nasalized voiced plosive to either a (voiced) nasal, n, or a voiced plosive, d. Languages, such as Welsh, which face this question, appear to favor the nasal.
The other feature of Malay which struck me was the use of classifiers, which the author of my little blue-and-yellow book chooses to call coefficients. I am familiar with the concept, since Chinese possesses ‘classifiers’ and (Ancient) Middle Egyptian uses a similar system. Chinese places a classifier, which limits the possible meanings of the following monosyllabic or disyllabic word, between the numeral and the head word. Thus, the words for ‘deer’ and ‘road’, which are homonyms, are distinguished in speech by their respective classifiers. Middle Egyptian uses classifiers in the opposite way; since hieroglyphic writing only provides the consonants and omits the semantic content of the vowels, the homonyms are a visual kind (I would greatly appreciate it if anybody could provide me with the appropriate word for this phenomenon) and the scribes distinguished the senses by adding a visible but silent classifier. My experience with these languages aided me in understanding the concept of classifiers or co-efficients in Malay, but this conceptual knowledge is less useful than I would like in the practical application, especially since no dictionary of a language which uses classifiers seems to indicate the appropriate one(s) in their entries. This may be a practice akin to languages which use stress not marking this in their dictionary entries. An additional difficulty which I am experiencing in learning Malay is determining when to use a classifier and when to refrain. I trust that practice will give me a better sense of the presence or absence of this feature, although any practical advice would be received with gratitude.
Friday, June 5, 2009
A Little Malay Composition
Sahaya beli chawan kopi di-kedai Vicki terlebeh dahulu dari pada sahaya masok pejabat sahaya dengan adek laki-laki sahaya. Robb dengan Trisha suka minum kopi-kah?
Ada kapada adek laki-laki sahaya dua ekor anjing. Ada anjing jantun tinggi yang besar. Dia lari ka-sana ka-mari di-antara pokok kayu hutan gunong Sierra Nevada. Ada anak anjing betina yang hitam.
Ada kapada adek laki-laki sahaya dua ekor anjing. Ada anjing jantun tinggi yang besar. Dia lari ka-sana ka-mari di-antara pokok kayu hutan gunong Sierra Nevada. Ada anak anjing betina yang hitam.
Candlelight Concert for the Secours
On Monday, May 31st, I attended a Candlelight Concert celebrating the music ministry of Michael and Catherine Secour. Mrs. Secour was my instructor in the Children’s Choir when I was growing up in the (Episcopal, not Catholic) parish of St Mary the Virgin, and Mr. Secour was my instructor for the Youth Choir until my voice broke unseasonably early. The attendance for this musical festschrift was overwhelming, and underscored how much the ministry of the Secours had meant to so many people.
The program opened with an adaptation of Our Church’s One Foundation adapted for the 10th anniversary of the Secours’ ministry, thirteen years ago. I always experience mixed feelings about adaptations. The change of words to beloved hymns in order to reflect a secular occasion could be seen to violate propriety, yet such changes often indicate affection for the tune as well as the addressee. The tradition of applying new words to a well-known tune is an ancient tradition, whose use ranges from the cheekily disrespectful Carmina Burana (literally, “beer songs”) to the anti-Arian cathedral sit-in of St Ambrose. The third song was a similar adaptation of Psalm 95.
The song between these two was Tomorrow shall be my Dancing Day, sung by the Youth and Adult Choirs. It is a pleasant enough carol, but its rhythm seems a bit jerky and disjointed to me. This slight discomfort perhaps stems from my aural training in modern music, which favors a smoother melody, but it is also possible that this carol was composed with dancing in mind.
The fourth song was an anthem sung by the Children’s Choir. Whenever the Children’s Choir sings, the words are few and repeated many times. It would be an error to overwhelm the wee babes who compose the Children’s Choir with unnecessary complexities, but one of the advantages of this method (and here I speak as an alumnus) is the increase in memorization skills which a short melody with simple lyrics provide.
The fifth song was For the Beauty of the Earth, sung by the Youth and Adult Choirs. This is my favorite piece out of all that I have sung or heard at St Mary’s, and the one which traditionally Mr. Secour drafted the Thanksgiving returnees to sing - I do hope that whoever replaces him maintains that tradition! Much of what I feel in my heart about this song is ineffable - I genuinely mean this - and so this description is much shorter than one might expect for a song I hold in such affection.
The sixth song was Britten’s Festival Te Deum, with which I am not familiar. The performance was beautiful, but did not pull anything from the wellspring of my memory. UI should mention, however, that Margaret fille was the soloist.
The seventh song was ’Tis a Gift to be Simple, sung by the Children’s Choir. It was considerably more complex than most of the piece which they perform; the Shaker composers, however, were brilliant in their composition because they remembered the plebeian origin of singing and eschewed the complexity which so bewilders and intimidates many who wish to sing for joy rather than jingling coins. This song was a favorite when I attended “hymn-sing” at Cathedral School for Boys. “Hymn-sing” is a topic I may address in a later post.
The eighth song was Pie Jesu from Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s Requiem, which the Youth and Adult Choirs sung; the soloists were Margaret fille and Laura Secour. I have a hard time associating the producer of Cats and the Phantom of the Opera with the composition of a religious work. The ninth song also came from Requiem, and what impressed me most about that performance is how a skilled composer can take lyrics of only a few lines and stretch them over a significant period without dulling their impact by repetition.
The tenth song was Duet from Bach’s Cantata 78, sung by the Youth Choir and the Altos of the Adult Choir, which I half-remembered singing, although it seems likely that I sang it in English - my memory could be faulty here. The performance in case, however, was in German. Memorization of foreign lyrics is significantly harder than memorization of foreign speech, so a successful performance in a foreign language gives me much pleasure.
The eleventh and twelfth songs, both of which the Adult Choir sang, were, respectively, Bairstow’s I sat down under his shadow and Brahms’ How lovely are thy dwellings from A German Requiem, although the language of the latter was English rather than German. Neither of these selections was well-known to me. The final song was a hymn, Ye Holy Angels Bright, (allegedly) sung by everyone, although the Secours had chosen it.
The reception was so crowded that one could barely move and the ambient heat of the room was noticeable if someone were observant. The most notable event for me, however, was the boy who came up to me and introduced himself to me as the boy who had visited the troop the previous week and been so taken with it that he now has plans for joining the troop and coming to summer camp - the world in which I grew up is small and extremely interconnected.
The program opened with an adaptation of Our Church’s One Foundation adapted for the 10th anniversary of the Secours’ ministry, thirteen years ago. I always experience mixed feelings about adaptations. The change of words to beloved hymns in order to reflect a secular occasion could be seen to violate propriety, yet such changes often indicate affection for the tune as well as the addressee. The tradition of applying new words to a well-known tune is an ancient tradition, whose use ranges from the cheekily disrespectful Carmina Burana (literally, “beer songs”) to the anti-Arian cathedral sit-in of St Ambrose. The third song was a similar adaptation of Psalm 95.
The song between these two was Tomorrow shall be my Dancing Day, sung by the Youth and Adult Choirs. It is a pleasant enough carol, but its rhythm seems a bit jerky and disjointed to me. This slight discomfort perhaps stems from my aural training in modern music, which favors a smoother melody, but it is also possible that this carol was composed with dancing in mind.
The fourth song was an anthem sung by the Children’s Choir. Whenever the Children’s Choir sings, the words are few and repeated many times. It would be an error to overwhelm the wee babes who compose the Children’s Choir with unnecessary complexities, but one of the advantages of this method (and here I speak as an alumnus) is the increase in memorization skills which a short melody with simple lyrics provide.
The fifth song was For the Beauty of the Earth, sung by the Youth and Adult Choirs. This is my favorite piece out of all that I have sung or heard at St Mary’s, and the one which traditionally Mr. Secour drafted the Thanksgiving returnees to sing - I do hope that whoever replaces him maintains that tradition! Much of what I feel in my heart about this song is ineffable - I genuinely mean this - and so this description is much shorter than one might expect for a song I hold in such affection.
The sixth song was Britten’s Festival Te Deum, with which I am not familiar. The performance was beautiful, but did not pull anything from the wellspring of my memory. UI should mention, however, that Margaret fille was the soloist.
The seventh song was ’Tis a Gift to be Simple, sung by the Children’s Choir. It was considerably more complex than most of the piece which they perform; the Shaker composers, however, were brilliant in their composition because they remembered the plebeian origin of singing and eschewed the complexity which so bewilders and intimidates many who wish to sing for joy rather than jingling coins. This song was a favorite when I attended “hymn-sing” at Cathedral School for Boys. “Hymn-sing” is a topic I may address in a later post.
The eighth song was Pie Jesu from Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s Requiem, which the Youth and Adult Choirs sung; the soloists were Margaret fille and Laura Secour. I have a hard time associating the producer of Cats and the Phantom of the Opera with the composition of a religious work. The ninth song also came from Requiem, and what impressed me most about that performance is how a skilled composer can take lyrics of only a few lines and stretch them over a significant period without dulling their impact by repetition.
The tenth song was Duet from Bach’s Cantata 78, sung by the Youth Choir and the Altos of the Adult Choir, which I half-remembered singing, although it seems likely that I sang it in English - my memory could be faulty here. The performance in case, however, was in German. Memorization of foreign lyrics is significantly harder than memorization of foreign speech, so a successful performance in a foreign language gives me much pleasure.
The eleventh and twelfth songs, both of which the Adult Choir sang, were, respectively, Bairstow’s I sat down under his shadow and Brahms’ How lovely are thy dwellings from A German Requiem, although the language of the latter was English rather than German. Neither of these selections was well-known to me. The final song was a hymn, Ye Holy Angels Bright, (allegedly) sung by everyone, although the Secours had chosen it.
The reception was so crowded that one could barely move and the ambient heat of the room was noticeable if someone were observant. The most notable event for me, however, was the boy who came up to me and introduced himself to me as the boy who had visited the troop the previous week and been so taken with it that he now has plans for joining the troop and coming to summer camp - the world in which I grew up is small and extremely interconnected.
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