Since the movie adaptation of the first book in the Percy Jackson and the Olympians is opening next Friday, providing an excuse to get the kids out of the house so that the parents can enjoy the Friday night of Singles Awareness Day weekend, I thought I should write up a short review of the second book in the series, Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters. The sequel uses a comparatively slower narrative pace, but then the author (Rick Riordan) could afford to place his chess pieces more carefully once the first book had sold well. His conceit about the nature of monsters pays off well in a series format, since there are a limited number of canonical monsters of myth (although far more than most moderns know). Another key conceit, what I would call "indefinite geography", serves as an anchor between the mundane and mythical worlds; the tendency to place wacky magical movies and television series in my own hometown makes this conceit particularly familiar and dear to me. If the world were as this series describes, the placement of the Sea of Monsters is perfectly logical.
One of the joys of reading this series as an adult Classics major is the recognition of story elements, and this installment does not disappoint. The choice of boss monster in this book telegraphs the stratagem of the hero, but a good story is always fun, and the particularly twisted version of La Belle et Le Bête (or perhaps Hercules and the Queen of the Amazons) which serves as the book's mcguffin is amusing on many levels, not all of which would be appropriate to explain to grade school kids.
I do not want to give away the conclusion (it's the second of five books: of course our hero wins the battle), but the way in which the success of the mission of the second book leads into the mission of the third book feels natural, an important feat for the sequel in an incomplete series. If I were teaching middle school, I would use these books quite happily to instill a love of mythology in my students - I come by that love naturally, but I understand many do not.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Hangeul, or No Dyslexic Elves
Recently, I decided that I should learn some Korean, since I spend a great deal of time in a Korean-owned cafe. At the very least, I could learn the basic pleasantries associated with cafe life. Hangeul, the Korean script, is well known for being linguistically sound and astonishingly perceptive, although that language, it must be admitted, is the language of 15th century Korea. The official history has King Sejong as the inventor of the script, although some more recent studies have suggested a connection between Hangeul and 'Phags-pa script, invented in Tibet under Kublai Khan as an international script.
The basic principles of Hangeul were that each block should be square, in order that it look like "proper", i.e., Chinese, writing, and that the block be composed of the consonants which make up a syllable. Although Hangeul looks like a string of Chinese characters, it is much easier to disentangle the parts. The progress of time, both in phonetic change, assimilation, and increasing stylization of the "characters", has created some difficulties, but they are hardly insurmountable. My goal, for now, is to master the jamo (some of which are phonetically complex, but treated as a single graphic unit). The more I examine the jamo, the more I understand why the lovely Miss Moon grasped the principles of my Egyptian hieroglyph homework so quickly.
The systematic structure of the jamo may be linguistically inspired, but as some wag said of Tolkien's tengwar, there is no such thing as a dyslexic elf (I'm sure Tolkien would have found Hangeul fascinating). Some of the diacritics which are used to distinguish various vowels in Korean are minimal, even after the most recent reform of the script, a luxury which small linguistic communities can manage more easily than large democratic ones. It's easy for the Anglophone, accustomed to letters more distinct in shape, to confuse /a/ and /eo/. I can recognize the dental series (d, t, tt) but my brain appears to want that series to open in the same direction as the velar (g, k, kk); this is probably a conflict between the accurate picture of tongue placement and orthographic consistency. If I did not desire regularity in writing, Hangeul would not fascinate me so much! My greatest difficulty, however, is differentiating /oe/, /wi/, and /ui/; I have mastered the regular and iotated forms. The cafeteria method of learning Korean does not enlighten me on the rules of vowel harmony in Korean, leaving some vocalic pronunciations a mystery.
The basic principles of Hangeul were that each block should be square, in order that it look like "proper", i.e., Chinese, writing, and that the block be composed of the consonants which make up a syllable. Although Hangeul looks like a string of Chinese characters, it is much easier to disentangle the parts. The progress of time, both in phonetic change, assimilation, and increasing stylization of the "characters", has created some difficulties, but they are hardly insurmountable. My goal, for now, is to master the jamo (some of which are phonetically complex, but treated as a single graphic unit). The more I examine the jamo, the more I understand why the lovely Miss Moon grasped the principles of my Egyptian hieroglyph homework so quickly.
The systematic structure of the jamo may be linguistically inspired, but as some wag said of Tolkien's tengwar, there is no such thing as a dyslexic elf (I'm sure Tolkien would have found Hangeul fascinating). Some of the diacritics which are used to distinguish various vowels in Korean are minimal, even after the most recent reform of the script, a luxury which small linguistic communities can manage more easily than large democratic ones. It's easy for the Anglophone, accustomed to letters more distinct in shape, to confuse /a/ and /eo/. I can recognize the dental series (d, t, tt) but my brain appears to want that series to open in the same direction as the velar (g, k, kk); this is probably a conflict between the accurate picture of tongue placement and orthographic consistency. If I did not desire regularity in writing, Hangeul would not fascinate me so much! My greatest difficulty, however, is differentiating /oe/, /wi/, and /ui/; I have mastered the regular and iotated forms. The cafeteria method of learning Korean does not enlighten me on the rules of vowel harmony in Korean, leaving some vocalic pronunciations a mystery.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Lesson 15: Mai, Aku, La, Nei
The completion of Lesson 15 yielded no interesting grammatical gems (or even semantic), so rather than complain about the high level of ambiguity in Hawaiian particles (what can you expect from a language which has so few phonemes?), so I'll take the opportunity to explain a feature of Hawaiian unfamiliar to most English speakers: deictic particles. What is a deictic particle? It is simply an "adverbial" word that indicates direction. The old English words "where, whither, whence" illustrate a pronominal use of directionality, since the meanings are "at which place, to which place, from which place". Greek has a "deictic iota" or "deictic i" in its dramatic register. The abundant use of the deictic iota arises from the lack of stage directions (or even indications of change of speaker!) in Greek drama. The absence of stage directions as we know them does not mean that the plays were not blocked - Greek tragedy does derive from a choral performance, after all. So where could the dramatist put the directions? He incorporated them into the text. In some cases, the direction was explicit, if one of the characters already on stage announced he could see the king approaching, but in other cases, the dramatist tacked the deictic iota onto the noun of his choice. The addition of the deictic iota indicated a "hey pay attention to this" response to the part of the players and the audience.
So far, the most striking Hawaiian deictic particles are mai, aku, la, and nei. The particle mai indicates movement away from the speaker; thus, whether the topic of discussion is coming or going does not determine the use of mai. The particle aku is the counterpart of mai, and can indicate temporal distinctions as well as physical ones - but I have not progressed far enough to say any more on the temporal uses. The particle la is a general indicator, and seems to be some sort of pan-Pacific, pan-East Asian deictic, since it is found in that use from China to Ni'ihau. In Hawaiian, la appears to be the antithesis of nei, a particle which is used quite vigorously in Hawaiian, but seems to indicate a high degree of immediacy, intimacy, and affection. I suspect that the intimate aspect of nei explains not only the use of nei as part of the present tense (what could be more relevant than what you are doing right now?) and the past with aku (only slightly less relevant than the present), and its absence when aku is used to indicate future time (irrelevant if you're an Australian Prime Minister and have just been eaten by a shark). This overlap of temporal and spatial terms is typical of natural human languages, although I am unsure what that indicates about human perception. These four deictic particle (there are others) provide additional information to allow the addressee (2nd person) to place the topic of discussion (3rd person) within a physical framework.
So far, the most striking Hawaiian deictic particles are mai, aku, la, and nei. The particle mai indicates movement away from the speaker; thus, whether the topic of discussion is coming or going does not determine the use of mai. The particle aku is the counterpart of mai, and can indicate temporal distinctions as well as physical ones - but I have not progressed far enough to say any more on the temporal uses. The particle la is a general indicator, and seems to be some sort of pan-Pacific, pan-East Asian deictic, since it is found in that use from China to Ni'ihau. In Hawaiian, la appears to be the antithesis of nei, a particle which is used quite vigorously in Hawaiian, but seems to indicate a high degree of immediacy, intimacy, and affection. I suspect that the intimate aspect of nei explains not only the use of nei as part of the present tense (what could be more relevant than what you are doing right now?) and the past with aku (only slightly less relevant than the present), and its absence when aku is used to indicate future time (irrelevant if you're an Australian Prime Minister and have just been eaten by a shark). This overlap of temporal and spatial terms is typical of natural human languages, although I am unsure what that indicates about human perception. These four deictic particle (there are others) provide additional information to allow the addressee (2nd person) to place the topic of discussion (3rd person) within a physical framework.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Movie Review: Avatar (but mostly Na'vi)
Those who know my obsession with languages, real or imagined, will not be astonished that I went twice to Avatar, once for the experience and once for the language (and the 3D). I do this with rented movies, too, rewatching them with the commentary on - as archaeologists well know, sometimes there are nuggets among the trash; of course, it's a lot cheaper with rented movies!
I shall first say that I was pleasantly surprised by the additional information and coherence that a second viewing of Avatar afforded (although the particulars would betray the plot too much). I may actually read the novelization of the movie for the extra anthropological/linguistic/historical information. What most interested me, of course, was the alien language, Na'vi, which was constructed with care by an accredited linguist. One thing that irks me about poorly written fantasy novels, such as that written by Tolstoy's great-greandson, even more than the hackneyed plots is the lack of effort which goes into the creation of believable languages. I would not expect anyone to top Tolkien, a genuine language professor, but it seems to me that if you wain the want to use a fictional language and are uninterested in the details, you should crib a grammar of a real, possibly obscure, language rather than half-heartedly attempting to make one up, or else settle on differences in dialect and prosody to distinguish your fantasy races.
I was pleased at the extensive (for a film) use of Na'vi, by characters who would find it useful or necessary, even if the biosphere (and language) seemed a bit "It was raining on Mongo that day". Soldiers and anthropologists have competing but compelling reasons to learn the native tongue. Once I had seen Avatar once, I looked up the Na'vi language on Wikipedia, and was pleased and amused to see the list of features which were combined to form a language which humans could learn, but was unlike any human language. Na'vi features clusivity (which would make some the insider/outsider dialog of the movie particularly interesting), three grammatical numbers (singular, dual, and trial), Celtic-like lenition, Russian-like short forms (in combination with lenition!), Algonquin-style infixation, the bane of the English settlers of the New World. One can sympathize with the complaints of the protagonist about the difficulties of learning Na'vi! This particular combination of features renders the language natural but not transparent, which is one of the risks of a lazy movie linguist. The lyrics of the songs were in Na'vi, no doubt inspired by the use of Quenya and Sindarin in the LOTR movie trilogy, although there are songwriters here and there who have felt moved to sing in a language of their own. I would be interested to see the dialog of the Na'vi-speaking actors, since the use of clusivity and "attitude" infixes would make the disposition and political orientation of the Na'vi actors much clearly in their native tongue.
I shall first say that I was pleasantly surprised by the additional information and coherence that a second viewing of Avatar afforded (although the particulars would betray the plot too much). I may actually read the novelization of the movie for the extra anthropological/linguistic/historical information. What most interested me, of course, was the alien language, Na'vi, which was constructed with care by an accredited linguist. One thing that irks me about poorly written fantasy novels, such as that written by Tolstoy's great-greandson, even more than the hackneyed plots is the lack of effort which goes into the creation of believable languages. I would not expect anyone to top Tolkien, a genuine language professor, but it seems to me that if you wain the want to use a fictional language and are uninterested in the details, you should crib a grammar of a real, possibly obscure, language rather than half-heartedly attempting to make one up, or else settle on differences in dialect and prosody to distinguish your fantasy races.
I was pleased at the extensive (for a film) use of Na'vi, by characters who would find it useful or necessary, even if the biosphere (and language) seemed a bit "It was raining on Mongo that day". Soldiers and anthropologists have competing but compelling reasons to learn the native tongue. Once I had seen Avatar once, I looked up the Na'vi language on Wikipedia, and was pleased and amused to see the list of features which were combined to form a language which humans could learn, but was unlike any human language. Na'vi features clusivity (which would make some the insider/outsider dialog of the movie particularly interesting), three grammatical numbers (singular, dual, and trial), Celtic-like lenition, Russian-like short forms (in combination with lenition!), Algonquin-style infixation, the bane of the English settlers of the New World. One can sympathize with the complaints of the protagonist about the difficulties of learning Na'vi! This particular combination of features renders the language natural but not transparent, which is one of the risks of a lazy movie linguist. The lyrics of the songs were in Na'vi, no doubt inspired by the use of Quenya and Sindarin in the LOTR movie trilogy, although there are songwriters here and there who have felt moved to sing in a language of their own. I would be interested to see the dialog of the Na'vi-speaking actors, since the use of clusivity and "attitude" infixes would make the disposition and political orientation of the Na'vi actors much clearly in their native tongue.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Bias
Given certain recent misunderstandings, I feel it imperative that I explain my position more clearly regarding the liberal bias of the majority of the media.
As an historian and classicist, and an attentive student of Mr Honick's high school history class, I am well aware that unbiased information does not exist. Even the most sterile scientific data has a bias, since human beings decided which data to collect, where it would be collected, and at what intervals the measurements would be taken. News scavengers have to choose which data to collect, and out of that information which data to present and how to present it (hard news? fluff story? scare tactics?). I actually have a soft spot for ancient historians, who wore their hearts on their sleeves; for the same reason, I feel more comfortable with Fox News than "liberal" networks and fundamentalist Christians than some "tolerant" liberals; I know where I stand with them, and I am sufficiently comfortable with my own opinions to not waver.
The existence of bias, however, does not means it is a positive thing, just as the existence of evil does not make it a perverse form of good. I take issue with extreme bias of all forms; despite the rather provocative sentence in the preceding paragraph, I am not a fan of either Fox news or fundamentalism. The difference is that the bias on the liberal side is better hidden, and therefore harder to ameliorate. The crevasses in Antarctica are dangerous because you can't spot them.
The increasing fragmentation of media makes the general populace ever more vulnerable to news that is heavily weighted to a single viewpoint. The weakness of human beings to a "confirmation bias", in which one listens more carefully to something with which one agrees, is well-known in media and advertising circles ("confirmation bias" doesn't seem evolutionarily beneficial, but that's a topic for another day). It's easy to become addicted to one news source, whether that be Fox or CNN or NPR, and let it color your world view.
Satire, although it is an ancient and potent solution and therefore dear to the heart of this Classics major, is only a partial solution. Satire is useful in several ways: it can be used even if (especially if) the satirist possesses the opposite bias of the satirized, and satire's acerbic nature makes it memorable. Satire, however, is a parasitic genre: it depends on its audience knowing something about the subject it satirizes, or else descends into uninformed invective, which is no better than listening to a non-satiric programs which shares the bias of the satirist.
The only solution (ut opinor) for avoiding bias as much as possible in an increasingly fragmented media landscape is a diligent effort to read news sources from different viewpoints. The problem here, of course, is that it takes mental effort to synthesize any thesis and its antithesis, and many people are unwilling to expend that effort, when it is easier and simpler to hold onto their beliefs.
As an historian and classicist, and an attentive student of Mr Honick's high school history class, I am well aware that unbiased information does not exist. Even the most sterile scientific data has a bias, since human beings decided which data to collect, where it would be collected, and at what intervals the measurements would be taken. News scavengers have to choose which data to collect, and out of that information which data to present and how to present it (hard news? fluff story? scare tactics?). I actually have a soft spot for ancient historians, who wore their hearts on their sleeves; for the same reason, I feel more comfortable with Fox News than "liberal" networks and fundamentalist Christians than some "tolerant" liberals; I know where I stand with them, and I am sufficiently comfortable with my own opinions to not waver.
The existence of bias, however, does not means it is a positive thing, just as the existence of evil does not make it a perverse form of good. I take issue with extreme bias of all forms; despite the rather provocative sentence in the preceding paragraph, I am not a fan of either Fox news or fundamentalism. The difference is that the bias on the liberal side is better hidden, and therefore harder to ameliorate. The crevasses in Antarctica are dangerous because you can't spot them.
The increasing fragmentation of media makes the general populace ever more vulnerable to news that is heavily weighted to a single viewpoint. The weakness of human beings to a "confirmation bias", in which one listens more carefully to something with which one agrees, is well-known in media and advertising circles ("confirmation bias" doesn't seem evolutionarily beneficial, but that's a topic for another day). It's easy to become addicted to one news source, whether that be Fox or CNN or NPR, and let it color your world view.
Satire, although it is an ancient and potent solution and therefore dear to the heart of this Classics major, is only a partial solution. Satire is useful in several ways: it can be used even if (especially if) the satirist possesses the opposite bias of the satirized, and satire's acerbic nature makes it memorable. Satire, however, is a parasitic genre: it depends on its audience knowing something about the subject it satirizes, or else descends into uninformed invective, which is no better than listening to a non-satiric programs which shares the bias of the satirist.
The only solution (ut opinor) for avoiding bias as much as possible in an increasingly fragmented media landscape is a diligent effort to read news sources from different viewpoints. The problem here, of course, is that it takes mental effort to synthesize any thesis and its antithesis, and many people are unwilling to expend that effort, when it is easier and simpler to hold onto their beliefs.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Lesson 14: Interrogative Pronouns
As the angels say unto men, "Do not fear!", for I have not abandoned my Hawaiian project. Lesson 14 is the interrogative pronouns. An interrogative pronouns is not one which strings you up for the bastinado, although the sorts who would do that do use a lot of interrogative pronouns; an interrogative pronoun is simply one that asks a question. Some of the "pronouns" in Judd strike me more as adverbs than pronouns, especially in a language with such a tenuous case system, but let us not quibble. The most striking feature of the pronouns in this lesson is the predominance of the element hea. This element is the latter component of a compound of which the former is a preposition or functioning prepositionally. The word heaha "what?" appears to display the inverse situation, but alas this is an illusion, and heaha is composed of he aha, in which he is the indefinite pronoun, and aha indicates "why?what?". The use of the indefinite here contrasts with the use of the definite ke in another interrogative, no ke aha, "why?", which is literally "for the what?", a phrase which corresponds in form and meaning with the archaic English interrogative "wherefore", whereof I have an inordinate fondness.
Another intriguing feature of the interrogative pronouns is the incorporation of time into the forms of the question "when?". Hawaiian does not depend on the tense of the verb to indicate the time of the question, but rather uses ahea for future time and inahea for past time; the present form has yet to appear. Although placing the burden of temporality on the interrogative pronoun may seem peculiar to the native English speaker, this placement is the most logical: the question is about time, after all, and without a doubt the existence of the future and past interrogatives allow a greater semantic load on the basic pronoun.
Now here's the proof
Lesson 14
1. Hola ehia keia? How many hours is this?
2. E hele ana oe ihea i keia kakahiaka? Where (Whither) are you walking this morning?
3. Ua hiki mai lakou i Waikiki i keia awakea. They have arrived (towards the speaker) in Waikiki this afternoon. (Still no sign of any past parfect ua ... e!)
4. Mahea oe i hele aku i keia ahiahi? Where are you running (away from the speaker) this evening?
5. Auhea oukou, e na ho[a]aloha o ka pono? Where are you-all, o friends of righteousness?
6. Mai hea mai oukou i keia auina la? From what place (whence, towards the speaker) are you-all this afternoon? (la here is "sun", not the deictic particle)
7. Pehea oe i keia wanaao maikai loa? How are you this very beautiful dawn?
8. He kakahiaka ino loa keia. This is a very bad morning.
9. Heaha keia mau mea iloko o keia mau pahu? What are these things inside my boxes?
10. No ke aha la oe e hana nei i keia mea? Why are you doing this thing (away from the speaker).
Another intriguing feature of the interrogative pronouns is the incorporation of time into the forms of the question "when?". Hawaiian does not depend on the tense of the verb to indicate the time of the question, but rather uses ahea for future time and inahea for past time; the present form has yet to appear. Although placing the burden of temporality on the interrogative pronoun may seem peculiar to the native English speaker, this placement is the most logical: the question is about time, after all, and without a doubt the existence of the future and past interrogatives allow a greater semantic load on the basic pronoun.
Now here's the proof
Lesson 14
1. Hola ehia keia? How many hours is this?
2. E hele ana oe ihea i keia kakahiaka? Where (Whither) are you walking this morning?
3. Ua hiki mai lakou i Waikiki i keia awakea. They have arrived (towards the speaker) in Waikiki this afternoon. (Still no sign of any past parfect ua ... e!)
4. Mahea oe i hele aku i keia ahiahi? Where are you running (away from the speaker) this evening?
5. Auhea oukou, e na ho[a]aloha o ka pono? Where are you-all, o friends of righteousness?
6. Mai hea mai oukou i keia auina la? From what place (whence, towards the speaker) are you-all this afternoon? (la here is "sun", not the deictic particle)
7. Pehea oe i keia wanaao maikai loa? How are you this very beautiful dawn?
8. He kakahiaka ino loa keia. This is a very bad morning.
9. Heaha keia mau mea iloko o keia mau pahu? What are these things inside my boxes?
10. No ke aha la oe e hana nei i keia mea? Why are you doing this thing (away from the speaker).
Friday, January 15, 2010
Fred DIckson: A Eulogy
I'm not a particularly eloquent eulogizer, but I feel ought to try on behalf the late Fred Dickson. I have not spent as many years as Fred as an Assistant Scoutmaster, but I can identify with his comfort in being a second banana to his Scouting partner and friend, Joe Ehrman, whose Distinguished Eagle Scout Award ceremony I attended last night at the Marines Memorial Club. Despite the aggression of contemporary society, not everybody feels the need to be dominant, and the position of executive officer to the commander or good cop to the bad cop is an important balance.
I remember talking to Fred many times in the old Troop Room, before the earthquake retrofit and the room's reestablishment in the diagonally opposite corner. When you entered the spacious Troop Room, there was counter on the left and behind it was Fred, always friendly and helpful - that counter was a less intimidating barrier than the physically less substantial one in front of you behind which loomed Joe's desk. Fred always had a piece of candy and friendly advice for any Scout who needed it, and was especially helpful in the transition from six to eight patrols which occurred the year I switched from the Flying Eagles to the Falcons.
Many problems, both disciplinarian and organizational, were resolved before they reached the Scoutmaster's desk thanks to Fred.
On the outings and at camp, Fred was friendly and helpful, qualities which do not solely apply to the Scouts of the troop. He was a major promoters of the annual horseshoe competition, a Royaneh tradition which has fallen into abeyance since his departure from camp; I remember the loud clanking of the horseshoes in the chapel, and the trepidation in crossing the field of competition - sure, the participants had stopped, but how much would you trust the twitchy arm of your fellow seventh-grader? Another area in which Fred's participation was greatly appreciated was the campfire program, and especially his promotion of the traditional songs of the troop. Then there was Kady-language, the troop's own Pig Latin: there was much discussion of it last night, and I must confess that it hasn't been heard around the troop campfires in quite a while. Many remembered how to use Kady-language, but nobody remembered all the lyrics to the song from which it was derived. In honor of Fred, I would like to recover the tune and the words for posterity.
One of the coolest things, especially to a boy, about Fred was his military experience as a World War II fighter pilot. An organization such as the troop places a great emphasis on tradition and history, and Fred's personal description of World War II provided a link to an earlier era which was becoming remote even by my days in the troop.
I shall always be thankful for Fred's generosity and good spirits, his ability to tie together generations of troop members, and his example of how to support the troop without being an A-type personality.
I remember talking to Fred many times in the old Troop Room, before the earthquake retrofit and the room's reestablishment in the diagonally opposite corner. When you entered the spacious Troop Room, there was counter on the left and behind it was Fred, always friendly and helpful - that counter was a less intimidating barrier than the physically less substantial one in front of you behind which loomed Joe's desk. Fred always had a piece of candy and friendly advice for any Scout who needed it, and was especially helpful in the transition from six to eight patrols which occurred the year I switched from the Flying Eagles to the Falcons.
Many problems, both disciplinarian and organizational, were resolved before they reached the Scoutmaster's desk thanks to Fred.
On the outings and at camp, Fred was friendly and helpful, qualities which do not solely apply to the Scouts of the troop. He was a major promoters of the annual horseshoe competition, a Royaneh tradition which has fallen into abeyance since his departure from camp; I remember the loud clanking of the horseshoes in the chapel, and the trepidation in crossing the field of competition - sure, the participants had stopped, but how much would you trust the twitchy arm of your fellow seventh-grader? Another area in which Fred's participation was greatly appreciated was the campfire program, and especially his promotion of the traditional songs of the troop. Then there was Kady-language, the troop's own Pig Latin: there was much discussion of it last night, and I must confess that it hasn't been heard around the troop campfires in quite a while. Many remembered how to use Kady-language, but nobody remembered all the lyrics to the song from which it was derived. In honor of Fred, I would like to recover the tune and the words for posterity.
One of the coolest things, especially to a boy, about Fred was his military experience as a World War II fighter pilot. An organization such as the troop places a great emphasis on tradition and history, and Fred's personal description of World War II provided a link to an earlier era which was becoming remote even by my days in the troop.
I shall always be thankful for Fred's generosity and good spirits, his ability to tie together generations of troop members, and his example of how to support the troop without being an A-type personality.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Lesson 13: Mind Your Pi's and Ke's
I have gone over the particulars of Lesson 13, in which Judd presents the rules for using ka and ke as the as the singular definite article of the Hawaiian language. The form of the singular definite article in PNP (Proto-Nuclear Polynesian) is te, as in the name of the Maori opera singer Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, so I first tried to derive a rule whereby ke became ka under certain conditions (the definite ka has a short vowel, whereas the a-class possessive ka has a long vowel). Dissimilation of ke to ka before words which begin with front vowels (e, i) and occasionally the lower central vowel (a) makes evolutionary sense, but that cannot be the underlying model at the time Judd composed his grammar, since the back vowels also use ka. It is worth noting that Judd’s ‘okina-less orthography does not appear to disguise a distinction between the two forms dependent on the presence or absence of the ‘okina for words with an initial u, but perhaps does for words with an initial o. The use of ke before words beginning with k appears to be linguistic conservation in a “potassium-rich” environment, and the use of both ka and ke before words beginning with p preserves a useful semantic distinction between ka pa ‘the yard’ and ke pa ‘the dish’ (both have a long vowel). This utility hypothesis, however, is called into question by the widespread semantic homophony elsewhere in the Hawaiian language.
The rule which Na Puke Wehewehe ‘Olelo Hawai’i lists is the following: ke is used before words beginning with a, e, o, and k, and sometimes p and the ‘okina. I am not certain whether the use of ke or ka preserves any semantic distinction for the words beginning with the ‘okina, or whether the mixture there is due to the slide from historical and Kauai k to Hawai’i ‘okina. The rule I can derive from this is: the vowel of ke is lowered to ka before the high vowels i and u, and vowel of ke is preserved before any consonant other than k. The consonants p and the ‘okina are the logical outliers for this rule, since (quite aside from the semantic distinction between pa and pa) the ‘okina is the last step before a bare vowel, and the labial plosive p is often tied to the velar plosive k: examples include the development of Welsh pedwar ‘four’ from the Brythonic root kwet-, similar to Latin quattuor,. More generally, velars and labials are related: note the change of the Sumerian (nasal) velar g~ into a labial m in the Emesal, or women’s dialect. Na Puke Wehewehe ‘Olelo Hawai’i also notes the pre-1850 documents in Hawaiian, before any official grammar had been published, allowed ke before consonants which were neither p nor k - sadly, it does not mention whether this situation also pertained to the ‘okina. This difference between the pre-1850 records and the official Hawaiian of today suggests the use of ka spread from the words beginning with vowels and perhaps the ‘okina to the other consonants. The use of both ka and ke in front of the ‘okina would be critical for the reanalysis, since it would give speakers “permission” to use ka in front of consonants. I also suspect that the influence of English grammar, specifically a more rigid distinction between verbal and nominal forms, may have pushed the educated Hawaiian speakers towards a more frequent use of ka with nouns, since ke is used in several verbal constructions.
1. Ua ike makou i ka uila. We have known the lightning.
2. Ua lohe makou i ka hekili. We have heard the thunder.
3. Ke hoopaa nei oia i ka ukana. He ties fast the cargo.
4. Ke noho nei oia ma ke one. He sits in the sand.
5. Ua hiki mai ka elele. The messenger has arrived.
6. Ua hele mai ke kanaka mai Maui mai. The man has moved from Maui.
7. Ke hahai nei ka ilio i kona kahu. The dog pursues his provider.
8. Pehea oukou i keia mau la. How are you-all?
Friday, January 8, 2010
Our Doomed Century on the Onion
(This was composed the week of Jan 3-9, 2010)
It's been Apocalypse Week on the History Channel, which means I've been drawn to it like Mothra to a nuclear flame. I have an impatient fascination with the 2012/Nostradamus material, although it does provide a ready source of mockable material, but my stronger, morbid fascination is reserved for the shows on asteroid impact (especially Apophis), gamma ray bursts, and other forms of environmental extinction or collapse.
I'm excited for the new season of Life After People, in which we will see what happens to a modern house without maintenance. Apocalypse Man seems like a series in embryo, a sort of bowdlerised television counterpart to The Road, but the show which most chilled my blood was Earth 2100. The narrative conceit of a single life makes sense outside of a setting, such as science fiction novels, in which multi-generational perspectives are possible and easier to portray. The shrill, strident tone is justified to some degree because the producers intended to portray a worst-case scenario, so that it might stick in the minds of the audience. One of the difficulties in persuading human beings to act is the rigid "flight or fight" response (the third option, giving up completely, is a literal dead end). Most people fail to react to creeping change (that's why you don't notice your own sibling aging as much as someone else's), so the most effective way to trigger the fight response is an atmosphere of threat. The fight response, however, was a development to allow survival when attacked, and does not last long. In terms of the energy spike, that is a blessing, since permanent panic would turn humanity into bipedal ground squirrels, but the brevity also means that the lesson is lost quickly and in the worst case engenders apathy or disbelief. The "Sleepers wake!" portion of the message is insufficient without a further portion outlining what steps may be taken to mitigate disaster. In this way, the gospel of environmentalism (after all, there is a green bible) is similar to other religions: faiths and philosophies which provide no guide on appropriate actions once you have accepted their premises are seeds which fall on rocky ground. Earth 2100 is a good first step, but I would welcome a series or special which provided methods of survival and eventual renewal.
It's been Apocalypse Week on the History Channel, which means I've been drawn to it like Mothra to a nuclear flame. I have an impatient fascination with the 2012/Nostradamus material, although it does provide a ready source of mockable material, but my stronger, morbid fascination is reserved for the shows on asteroid impact (especially Apophis), gamma ray bursts, and other forms of environmental extinction or collapse.
I'm excited for the new season of Life After People, in which we will see what happens to a modern house without maintenance. Apocalypse Man seems like a series in embryo, a sort of bowdlerised television counterpart to The Road, but the show which most chilled my blood was Earth 2100. The narrative conceit of a single life makes sense outside of a setting, such as science fiction novels, in which multi-generational perspectives are possible and easier to portray. The shrill, strident tone is justified to some degree because the producers intended to portray a worst-case scenario, so that it might stick in the minds of the audience. One of the difficulties in persuading human beings to act is the rigid "flight or fight" response (the third option, giving up completely, is a literal dead end). Most people fail to react to creeping change (that's why you don't notice your own sibling aging as much as someone else's), so the most effective way to trigger the fight response is an atmosphere of threat. The fight response, however, was a development to allow survival when attacked, and does not last long. In terms of the energy spike, that is a blessing, since permanent panic would turn humanity into bipedal ground squirrels, but the brevity also means that the lesson is lost quickly and in the worst case engenders apathy or disbelief. The "Sleepers wake!" portion of the message is insufficient without a further portion outlining what steps may be taken to mitigate disaster. In this way, the gospel of environmentalism (after all, there is a green bible) is similar to other religions: faiths and philosophies which provide no guide on appropriate actions once you have accepted their premises are seeds which fall on rocky ground. Earth 2100 is a good first step, but I would welcome a series or special which provided methods of survival and eventual renewal.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Cliffside Contemplation
My good friends of the evangelical persuasion in Colorado once showed me a diagram relating a person and God. The person is on one side of the cliff, and God is on the other. I suppose a broad river would be an acceptable in a land of non-swimmers. The zealous evangelicals either drew a bridge from God to the person, or indicated the transport of the person to the side on which God is standing. In cases where they drew the bridge, they asked me where I thought I was: my answer, which was deemed inapplicable, was to locate myself upon the bridge. The right location, according to my friends, is with God on the far side of the cliff. Dwelling near the presence of God is certainly the ideal place to be, but it seems misleading to draw a bridge and exclude it as a possible answer.
My attitude is more akin to the sojourn in Pilgrim's Progress, which I read at young and impressionable age. Certainly, we shall see God face-to-face in the end, but until then we can merely approach, but never reach, the Godliness which God desires of us. Unlike Pilgrim's Progress, however, I believe that the moral hazards, although serious, are not irrevocably fatal.
My attitude is more akin to the sojourn in Pilgrim's Progress, which I read at young and impressionable age. Certainly, we shall see God face-to-face in the end, but until then we can merely approach, but never reach, the Godliness which God desires of us. Unlike Pilgrim's Progress, however, I believe that the moral hazards, although serious, are not irrevocably fatal.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The Cursing of the Irish
There was an article in Monday's Chronicle that reported that the Republic of Ireland has passed a new blasphemy law - the previous law was fundamentally unprosecutable, but this new one no doubt has the lawyers drooling, to the tune of 25,000 Euros. The godless horde of Eire has mounted an online campaign to mock and expose the futility of this law, but they need not bother: the combination of European kneejerk political correctness and modern litigiousness will undermine the admirable intent of the law. The text of the law states that one could be convicted of blasphemy if "he or she publishes or utters matter that is grossly abusive or insulting in relation to matters held sacred by any religion, thereby causing outrage among a substantial number of the adherents of that religion." The italics are my addition.
So, here is my prediction. The attempt at tolerance which the italicized portion highlights will backfire as the overly sensitive members of each religious group, and particularly the legal minds among them, seek to find fault in the writings of other religions. This will force every group into a defensive position, and nobody will dare say anything on religion. The biggest victims, of course, will be the individuals who did not intend to offend and cannot afford the lawyers whom institutions hire.
So, here is my prediction. The attempt at tolerance which the italicized portion highlights will backfire as the overly sensitive members of each religious group, and particularly the legal minds among them, seek to find fault in the writings of other religions. This will force every group into a defensive position, and nobody will dare say anything on religion. The biggest victims, of course, will be the individuals who did not intend to offend and cannot afford the lawyers whom institutions hire.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
A Puni, Maluna, Malalo, Me Ma!
(Sorry about the delay - I was traveling most of yesterday)
Lesson 12 in Judd's grammar introduces the complex prepositions, those which contain multiple words, similar to the English prepositon in front of. The majority of the English prepositions are composed this way, although the attrition of language has disguised the etymology of many English words. The preposition above, for instance, which appears to the diachronically blind as a straightforward two-syllable preposition of uncertain parentage, has a long history of prepositional accretion and linguistic erosion. The original core preposition was uf, the Anglo-Saxon form of up. Some speakers felt that uf alone was insufficient to express the up-ness they desired, and therefore attached an "on" to form ufan, "up on" Eventually that was deemed too weak, and be "by" prefixed itself to ufan to produce bufan "by up on". After the users of bufan had forgotten the intial suffixation of an to uf, they prefixed another an, creating anbufan "on by up on", which attrition wore down to the two-syllable word we use today.
The structure of all but two of the prepositions introduced in this lesson follow this analysis: ma- or i- prefixed to the core word, usually followed by the inalienable preposition o. The core word can be adverbial, such lalo "downwards", or a fully realized noun, such as uka "interior". Although the prepositions shown in the lesson all bear the prefix ma-, the choice between ma- and i- reflects the difference between the accusative and the ablative. In Latin, certain prepositions, such as sub "under", take the accusative or the ablative depending on whether the intent is to indicate motion or location; the same distinction applies to the Hawaiian prefixes. The inalienable preposition o is the usual third component; presumably one can replace o with a when appropriate. I must confess that the sources I have consulted on the o-a distinction have further perplexed me.
As for the exercise, the first appearance of the Hawaiian dog ('ilio) is notable. Hawaiian dogs were hairless and non-barking and bred for food rather than to chase game. The muteness of the breed was such a defining characteristic that the mythical dogs of Barking Sands recieved the "gift" of making noise from a god. I can relate to the chickens in Sentence 8, since on my recent trip to Kauai, I crept down a steep trail to a lovely waterfall (Kilahiwai Falls, or Wailele Kilahiwai). On the other side of the pool which lay at the base of the waterfall a family of chickens lived under a log (although it may not have been gray - it was covered in foliage). Kauai has been infested with chickens ever since a storm in the nineties, when the farmers let loose many chickens to ride out the storm and some never came back. There are no large predators on Kauai (which might explain the lack of hunting dogs), so the chickens multiplied.
(In case anybody was wondering, the post title was referring to this)
Lesson 12
1. Ke ike nei au i ka lio eleele. I know the black horse.
2. Ke noho nei ke kanaka iloko o ka hale ulaula. The man sits within the red house.
3. Ua ike makou i kekahi mau manu keokeo. We have seen some (kekahi mau) white birds.
4. Ke ku nei ka ilio haeleele mawaho o ka hale keokeo. The brown dog stands outside the red house.
5. Ke paani nei na keiki mawaho o ka hale oma'oma'o. The children play outside the green house.
6. Ke holo nei ka puaa ulaula ikai. The red pig runs toward the sea. (Gadarene swine?)
7. Heaha ka inoa o kou lio huapala. What is the name of his chestnut horse?
8. Ke noho nei na moa ulaula malalo o ke kumulaau ahinahina. The red chickens live underneath the gray tree trunk.
Lesson 12 in Judd's grammar introduces the complex prepositions, those which contain multiple words, similar to the English prepositon in front of. The majority of the English prepositions are composed this way, although the attrition of language has disguised the etymology of many English words. The preposition above, for instance, which appears to the diachronically blind as a straightforward two-syllable preposition of uncertain parentage, has a long history of prepositional accretion and linguistic erosion. The original core preposition was uf, the Anglo-Saxon form of up. Some speakers felt that uf alone was insufficient to express the up-ness they desired, and therefore attached an "on" to form ufan, "up on" Eventually that was deemed too weak, and be "by" prefixed itself to ufan to produce bufan "by up on". After the users of bufan had forgotten the intial suffixation of an to uf, they prefixed another an, creating anbufan "on by up on", which attrition wore down to the two-syllable word we use today.
The structure of all but two of the prepositions introduced in this lesson follow this analysis: ma- or i- prefixed to the core word, usually followed by the inalienable preposition o. The core word can be adverbial, such lalo "downwards", or a fully realized noun, such as uka "interior". Although the prepositions shown in the lesson all bear the prefix ma-, the choice between ma- and i- reflects the difference between the accusative and the ablative. In Latin, certain prepositions, such as sub "under", take the accusative or the ablative depending on whether the intent is to indicate motion or location; the same distinction applies to the Hawaiian prefixes. The inalienable preposition o is the usual third component; presumably one can replace o with a when appropriate. I must confess that the sources I have consulted on the o-a distinction have further perplexed me.
As for the exercise, the first appearance of the Hawaiian dog ('ilio) is notable. Hawaiian dogs were hairless and non-barking and bred for food rather than to chase game. The muteness of the breed was such a defining characteristic that the mythical dogs of Barking Sands recieved the "gift" of making noise from a god. I can relate to the chickens in Sentence 8, since on my recent trip to Kauai, I crept down a steep trail to a lovely waterfall (Kilahiwai Falls, or Wailele Kilahiwai). On the other side of the pool which lay at the base of the waterfall a family of chickens lived under a log (although it may not have been gray - it was covered in foliage). Kauai has been infested with chickens ever since a storm in the nineties, when the farmers let loose many chickens to ride out the storm and some never came back. There are no large predators on Kauai (which might explain the lack of hunting dogs), so the chickens multiplied.
(In case anybody was wondering, the post title was referring to this)
Lesson 12
1. Ke ike nei au i ka lio eleele. I know the black horse.
2. Ke noho nei ke kanaka iloko o ka hale ulaula. The man sits within the red house.
3. Ua ike makou i kekahi mau manu keokeo. We have seen some (kekahi mau) white birds.
4. Ke ku nei ka ilio haeleele mawaho o ka hale keokeo. The brown dog stands outside the red house.
5. Ke paani nei na keiki mawaho o ka hale oma'oma'o. The children play outside the green house.
6. Ke holo nei ka puaa ulaula ikai. The red pig runs toward the sea. (Gadarene swine?)
7. Heaha ka inoa o kou lio huapala. What is the name of his chestnut horse?
8. Ke noho nei na moa ulaula malalo o ke kumulaau ahinahina. The red chickens live underneath the gray tree trunk.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Ra, Set, Russkiy!
I don't have any profound spiritual commentary for the end of 2009, so in terms of another year around the Sun, this news seems appropriate. The Russians have devised a scheme to try alter the orbit of Apophis, the near-Earth asteroid which in 2004 was calculated to have a 1-in-37 chance of hitting the Earth (That figure was later revised to less panic-inducing odds). The timing of this announcement, just as NASA's shuttle program is expiring, appears to be a bid for the space portion of the news cycle, and fits well with Russia's "muscular patriotism". The plan does sound heavily inspired by movies, but then many space scientists have been inspired by science-fiction movies and stories, and quite a few science fiction authors have worked for NASA. On the positive side, Russia is the country over which the "path of risk" is imminent and the only country in which a large meteorite has exploded in recent times (I do not believe that the Tunguska Explosion was an exploding alien spacecraft). That experience does give it a little more authority than other nations in this matter, just as Japan has more authority than other nations when it comes to suffering nuclear attack.
Apophis appears to be an appropriately menacing name for the asteroid, but is less so if one has sufficient familiarity with Egyptian mythology. The namers of the asteroid seem to be bigger fans of Stargate than Sinuhe. Apophis is the Greek name for the Apep serpent, the cosmic embodiment of all that is evil, which threatens the sun god Ra as travels nightly through the Duat, but is always defeated by the god Sutekh/Set - despite his use as a Satan-equivalent in fiction, that is not his primary role in Egyptian cosmology-cosmography. Sometimes the struggles of Ra, Sutekh, and the Apep serpent resulted in earthquakes, storms, and eclipses when the Apep serpent got the upper hand, but Ra was ever victorious.Apophis, therefore, is a good name for an object in the darkness, be it Duat or Outer Space, which periodically threatens, but never prevails.
Apophis appears to be an appropriately menacing name for the asteroid, but is less so if one has sufficient familiarity with Egyptian mythology. The namers of the asteroid seem to be bigger fans of Stargate than Sinuhe. Apophis is the Greek name for the Apep serpent, the cosmic embodiment of all that is evil, which threatens the sun god Ra as travels nightly through the Duat, but is always defeated by the god Sutekh/Set - despite his use as a Satan-equivalent in fiction, that is not his primary role in Egyptian cosmology-cosmography. Sometimes the struggles of Ra, Sutekh, and the Apep serpent resulted in earthquakes, storms, and eclipses when the Apep serpent got the upper hand, but Ra was ever victorious.Apophis, therefore, is a good name for an object in the darkness, be it Duat or Outer Space, which periodically threatens, but never prevails.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Skating on the Holidays
Once we arrived at the open air ice rink, I rented some K2 hockey skates, which were too soft to do proper crossovers, as well as locked in terms of the top fastener, although my inability to skate backwards is entirely my fault. I handed over my camera to my uncle and aunt, but few of the pictures came out, through a combination of sun and ice. Fortunately, I have upgraded to a digital camera, despite lingering Luddite tendencies (the dislike, rather than the smashing), so the surviving pictures were quite sufficient. As my cousin and I circled the rink, always in the same direction - I would have expected that the direction would be changed after the zamboni had smoothed the ice - we had a nice chance to chat. My other, older cousins had a chance to play together up at Tahoe, but this one was too young, and my parents too wearied, to enjoy this experience.
That night, Dad and I went the 9:00 Christmas Eve carol service, which involved candles in a cup and no communion (although Christ the King Lutheran does not celebrate communion as often as the Episcopal Church). Pastor Chip is a good preacher, but his sermon was middling in content as well as delivery. After three other services I can't fault him on weaker delivery, but I can understand why Won Jae Hur, the interim pastor at my church in San Francisco, chose to have guest preachers throughout the Advent season.
Christmas Day itself is a matter for the family alone, so I shall say no more about it.
On the feast of Stephen, or Boxing Day, we breakfasted late but well. I once again went to Squaw with my cousin. Instead of going to open air rink at the top of the mountain, however, we went to the minuscule rink which is part of the Resort at Squaw Creek (over dinner, my brother explained who owned which bits at Squaw). At first I forgot to specify hockey skates, and the apathetic Russian teenage attendant gave me figure skates - I had forgotten that guys who do not skate regularly use generic ice skates, not hockey skates. After two changes of skates, I finally found a pair that suited me. The circumference of the rink was restricted, but I could adjust to that circumstance. The scarring of the ice, however, was so severe that more than one person remarked that the skating was better outside the rink than in it. I tried skating on the inside of the rink rather than the periphery, but it was not much better and it was much tighter - I'm a hockey player, not a figure skater! My cousin took little girls in hand and became absorbed in teaching them. I did a fair bit of skating, but I also watched the Squaw Valley dog sled take off. The dogs were barking and bouncing up and down, but once the signal was given, they disappeared in a flash. We supped that night at the Six Peaks Grille at the Resort, which was considerably fancier than the places I favor, but it was delicious and filling, and what more can you ask of a good meal?
Monday, December 28, 2009
CASES IN CRASIS!
Although I do not regret the speculation on the "ablative" in which I indulged, it seemed unsatisfactory: I had established the reason for the prepositions me and e taking the nominative case, but the rest of the case system for singular persons were mysterious in origin. The existence of pronominal cases only in the singular number suggests a recent origin; languages which have attenuated their case systems possess a variety of cases for the plural pronouns, even if they are not quite as numerous, just as nominal declensions have fewer forms in the plural.
I have undertaken an analysis and decided that there are really only two underlying cases, the nominative and the genitive (which, by virtue of its status as "the case which is not the nominative", ought to be labeled the objective case.) The nominative case appears to be composed of a "subject marker" 'o placed before the bare nominatives. The 1st and 3rd person nominative regard the subject marker as optional but enclitic if present, with an excrescent w (since epenthesis is a vocalic phenomenon) in the 1st person; the 2nd person has either grafted the subject marker or confused the first syllable of the nominative with the subject marker. The genitive cases of the personal pronouns have alternate forms, depending on the a-o (herein referred to as the alienable-inalienable) distinction. The most striking facet of these genitives is the homophony between the 1st person nominative case without the subject marker (au) and the inalienable form of the 2nd person genitive case (au). It is possible that the ancestral forms were more distinct, and it is astonishing what degrees of overlap various languages permit without apparent confusion. I could quote some Egyptian examples, but that would overextend this post, verbally and graphically.
The eponymous "cases in crasis" are the possessive and dative cases.These cases are characterized by initial k and n, respectively, but otherwise correspond exactly with the forms of the genitive. This correspondance is no accident, because the forms of the possessive and dative derive from the crasis, or linguistic compression, of propositions with the genitive case forms of the appropriate persons, substantially no different than the "first ablative" ma. The preposition ka/ko means "belonging to", while na/no means "for, concerning, on account of". The corresponding forms, therefore, to the 3rd person genitive ana/ona are possessive kana/kona and dative nana/nona. Perhaps at some point the possessive forms, to pick an example, were the phrases ka ana and ko ona, which provided not only an environment likely to induce crasis, but also reduplicated the culturally significant alienable-inalienable distinction.
The situation of the accusative is more vexing, regarding the enclitic nature of the object marker (since it cannot be a subject marker), the alternation of the two accusative object markers, and mix of the nominative and genitive forms as objects of the preposition i or ia. The only accusative form with the object marker attached is the 1st person alienable form ia'u. The other accusative forms (ia oe, ia ia) use the alternate (longer) form of the object and are not attached; these use the nominative case for the object of the preposition. The shorter form of the preposition accompanying the inalienable forms (i o'u, i ou, i ona) takes the genitive case. The most vexing point in the accusative case complex is the alienable genitive case in the 1st person, when the equivalent forms in the 2nd and 3rd persons have the nominative. Perhaps *i au or *iau (from *i au or crasis of *ia au) has too much potential confusion with the 2nd person alienable genitive form.
1st person 2nd person 3rd person
Nominative 'owau, au 'oe 'oia, ia
Genitive a'u, o'u au, ou ana, ona
Possessive ka'u, ko'u kau, kou kana, kona
Dative na'u, no'u nau, nou nana, nona
Accusative ia'u, i o'u nei, la ia 'oe, i ou la, nei ia ia, i ona la
Ablative 1 ma o'u la, nei ma ou la, nei ma ona la, nei
Ablative 2 mai o'u aku, mai mai ou aku, mai mai ona aku, mai
Ablative 3 me au me oe me ia
Ablative 4 e au e ia e ia
I have undertaken an analysis and decided that there are really only two underlying cases, the nominative and the genitive (which, by virtue of its status as "the case which is not the nominative", ought to be labeled the objective case.) The nominative case appears to be composed of a "subject marker" 'o placed before the bare nominatives. The 1st and 3rd person nominative regard the subject marker as optional but enclitic if present, with an excrescent w (since epenthesis is a vocalic phenomenon) in the 1st person; the 2nd person has either grafted the subject marker or confused the first syllable of the nominative with the subject marker. The genitive cases of the personal pronouns have alternate forms, depending on the a-o (herein referred to as the alienable-inalienable) distinction. The most striking facet of these genitives is the homophony between the 1st person nominative case without the subject marker (au) and the inalienable form of the 2nd person genitive case (au). It is possible that the ancestral forms were more distinct, and it is astonishing what degrees of overlap various languages permit without apparent confusion. I could quote some Egyptian examples, but that would overextend this post, verbally and graphically.
The eponymous "cases in crasis" are the possessive and dative cases.These cases are characterized by initial k and n, respectively, but otherwise correspond exactly with the forms of the genitive. This correspondance is no accident, because the forms of the possessive and dative derive from the crasis, or linguistic compression, of propositions with the genitive case forms of the appropriate persons, substantially no different than the "first ablative" ma. The preposition ka/ko means "belonging to", while na/no means "for, concerning, on account of". The corresponding forms, therefore, to the 3rd person genitive ana/ona are possessive kana/kona and dative nana/nona. Perhaps at some point the possessive forms, to pick an example, were the phrases ka ana and ko ona, which provided not only an environment likely to induce crasis, but also reduplicated the culturally significant alienable-inalienable distinction.
The situation of the accusative is more vexing, regarding the enclitic nature of the object marker (since it cannot be a subject marker), the alternation of the two accusative object markers, and mix of the nominative and genitive forms as objects of the preposition i or ia. The only accusative form with the object marker attached is the 1st person alienable form ia'u. The other accusative forms (ia oe, ia ia) use the alternate (longer) form of the object and are not attached; these use the nominative case for the object of the preposition. The shorter form of the preposition accompanying the inalienable forms (i o'u, i ou, i ona) takes the genitive case. The most vexing point in the accusative case complex is the alienable genitive case in the 1st person, when the equivalent forms in the 2nd and 3rd persons have the nominative. Perhaps *i au or *iau (from *i au or crasis of *ia au) has too much potential confusion with the 2nd person alienable genitive form.
1st person 2nd person 3rd person
Nominative 'owau, au 'oe 'oia, ia
Genitive a'u, o'u au, ou ana, ona
Possessive ka'u, ko'u kau, kou kana, kona
Dative na'u, no'u nau, nou nana, nona
Accusative ia'u, i o'u nei, la ia 'oe, i ou la, nei ia ia, i ona la
Ablative 1 ma o'u la, nei ma ou la, nei ma ona la, nei
Ablative 2 mai o'u aku, mai mai ou aku, mai mai ona aku, mai
Ablative 3 me au me oe me ia
Ablative 4 e au e ia e ia
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
My Very First Christmas Homily
I am not a chruchman, nor do I have the insolance to presume to the ministry via mail order, but this season seems the appropriate time to write a homily, if I am going to write any this year. I have taken as my theme not a passage from the Bible (although I certainly have many opinions on that), but a point of the Scout Law. The Scout Law is the article of confession which lays out twelve principles for living as a Scout or Scouter. Each of these principles is called a "point" and I have chosen to discuss the twelfth and last: "A Scout is reverent". In our multicultural society, and particularly in a multi-faith troop, this point can diminish to the point of evanescence. A careful treatment of the twelfth point of the Scout Law, it seems to me, divides into three parts, which roughly correspond to childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. This is not necessarily linked to actual physical growth: a "baby Christian", after all, can be a sixty-year-old widower.
Reverence starts first with respect for the beliefs of your family and community. Please note that this is not necessarily the same as your personal beliefs. Your personal beliefs at this stage exist, but are forming and will change slightly or greatly as you gain more experience. The familial and communal environment, nonetheless, for good or ill, affects your world view, even if you reject the tradition in the end. You should strive to understand what your religion believes, no matter how bizarre it may seem, because without understanding you may falter on the next step. In some churches (to use an environment with which I am familiar) there is a great degree of uniformity of opinion, while in others there exists great diversity.
Unless you live in an extremely isolated area, you will meet people who believe differently than the community in which you were raised, and than you yourself believe. These different beliefs may be other sects of the same religion or altogether separate faiths. Reading a book on world religions, such as that of Huston Smith, will help in grasping different perspectives and in allowing you to understand the faith traditions which are absent in your neighborhood, although a book is no substitute for a person of a particular denomination or faith who is willing to explain the "on the ground" perspective of a believer. You will discover that different faith traditions have reached opposite conclusions from the same passages, and the same conclusions from vastly different passages. It is critical while you are doing this investigation that you treat those who are willing to discuss their faith with you that, however bizarre his beliefs seem to you, he believes wholeheartedly in these articles of religion. If the religion demands certain behaviors in greeting worshippers or entering the place of worship, such as not shaking hands and taking off shoes, you should observe these customs out of respect.
If you take your shoes off outside a mosque, you are not turning into a Muslim, but merely respecting that the Muslims within the mosque regard it as a holy place.
After you have investigated and sought to understand, then you are ready to decide what you believe. It is important to remember that whatever you come to believe, there will be people who dispute every single point of that belief. It is good to be able to explain what you believe and why you believe it, but do not expect your arguments to compel doubters and antagonists. The best way to show your belief is through its expression in your life - it is curious how behaving as though you were a good person makes you a better person. This faith, however, does not release you from your obligation to treat others' faiths with respect; in fact, you may find that your deeper faith enhances your appreciation for the deeper faith of others, whether within your religion or alternate religions: Benedictines, Franciscans, and Jesuits have radically different approaches to the same Catholic faith.
That's my homily for Christmas. I hope it gave you pleasure and provided you with matters for thought.
Reverence starts first with respect for the beliefs of your family and community. Please note that this is not necessarily the same as your personal beliefs. Your personal beliefs at this stage exist, but are forming and will change slightly or greatly as you gain more experience. The familial and communal environment, nonetheless, for good or ill, affects your world view, even if you reject the tradition in the end. You should strive to understand what your religion believes, no matter how bizarre it may seem, because without understanding you may falter on the next step. In some churches (to use an environment with which I am familiar) there is a great degree of uniformity of opinion, while in others there exists great diversity.
Unless you live in an extremely isolated area, you will meet people who believe differently than the community in which you were raised, and than you yourself believe. These different beliefs may be other sects of the same religion or altogether separate faiths. Reading a book on world religions, such as that of Huston Smith, will help in grasping different perspectives and in allowing you to understand the faith traditions which are absent in your neighborhood, although a book is no substitute for a person of a particular denomination or faith who is willing to explain the "on the ground" perspective of a believer. You will discover that different faith traditions have reached opposite conclusions from the same passages, and the same conclusions from vastly different passages. It is critical while you are doing this investigation that you treat those who are willing to discuss their faith with you that, however bizarre his beliefs seem to you, he believes wholeheartedly in these articles of religion. If the religion demands certain behaviors in greeting worshippers or entering the place of worship, such as not shaking hands and taking off shoes, you should observe these customs out of respect.
If you take your shoes off outside a mosque, you are not turning into a Muslim, but merely respecting that the Muslims within the mosque regard it as a holy place.
After you have investigated and sought to understand, then you are ready to decide what you believe. It is important to remember that whatever you come to believe, there will be people who dispute every single point of that belief. It is good to be able to explain what you believe and why you believe it, but do not expect your arguments to compel doubters and antagonists. The best way to show your belief is through its expression in your life - it is curious how behaving as though you were a good person makes you a better person. This faith, however, does not release you from your obligation to treat others' faiths with respect; in fact, you may find that your deeper faith enhances your appreciation for the deeper faith of others, whether within your religion or alternate religions: Benedictines, Franciscans, and Jesuits have radically different approaches to the same Catholic faith.
That's my homily for Christmas. I hope it gave you pleasure and provided you with matters for thought.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Two Gentlemen of Wailua
I wanted to discuss a point about the pronominal system of Hawaiian which is connected to the previous post; I am, however, unwilling to violate the structural integrity of the former post merely to add a minor comment, even if I find it fascinating and instructive. This is an addendum to the previous post, rather than the second part of the originally planned post; that discussion will be posted next Monday and then I will return to the lesson-by-lesson format.
One of the features of the Hawaiian which had perplexed me is the contrast between second person dual 'olua and plural 'oukou, although the dual and plural of the first and third person are ma'ua and makou and la'ua and lakou. Situations such as this prove the usefulness of the methodology of comparative linguistics, which I have done below. Please note that the Rapanui plural derives from the dual, which is an unusual development, since the normal path to a singular-plural dichotomy is the marginalization of the dual and its eventual abandonment. In Homeric Greek, the dual is infrequent compared to the plural, but nonetheless a viable form; by the time of Pericles, the dual had practically vanished. In Latin, the dual survived only in the forms of the number two and certain forms of the pronouns, such as uter, which incorporated duality into their meaning.
Hawaiian Rapanui Samoan
1Sg owau/au ko au a'u/ou
2Sg 'oe ko koe 'oe/'e
3Sg oia/ia ko ia 'o ia
1DuI ma'ua ko taua ta'ua
1DuE ma'ua ko maua ma'ua
2Du 'olua ko korua 'oulua
3Du la'ua ko ra'ua latou
1PlI kakou - tatou
1PlE makou - matou
2Pl 'oukou - 'outou
3Pl lakou - latou
There are two possibilities for the discrepancy: either the Hawaiian 2nd person dual changed from -'ua to -lua under the influence of the Hawaiian number lua 'two' or the Samoan 2nd person dual has changed to 'oulua under the influence of 'outou. There latter seems more likely, given the Rapanui forms ko korua and ko ia which correspond to Hawaiian ('o) 'olua and 'oia (which is a contraction of 'o + ia, as I shall discuss in the next post. Samoan is more closely related to Hawaiian than Rapanui, but also more influenced by other closely related languages. A further suggestion that the 2nd person dual never fit the rest of the dual pattern is that the 2nd person dual is the only person in which the singular form could be connected to the dual and plural; the singulars au and ia bear no resemblance the dual and plural roots ka-, ma-, and la-. The Samoan alteration of the 2nd person singular forms 'oe and 'e provides an analysis of 'oe as 'o + 'e and the possibility of reconstructing 'olua from 'o + lua. If this be case, of course, then a similar simplification has occurred in Rapanui, which in turn implies that the assumption of the plural function by the dual forms in Rapanui occurred after the reanalysis of an ancestral dual kourua as the new dual korua.
One of the features of the Hawaiian which had perplexed me is the contrast between second person dual 'olua and plural 'oukou, although the dual and plural of the first and third person are ma'ua and makou and la'ua and lakou. Situations such as this prove the usefulness of the methodology of comparative linguistics, which I have done below. Please note that the Rapanui plural derives from the dual, which is an unusual development, since the normal path to a singular-plural dichotomy is the marginalization of the dual and its eventual abandonment. In Homeric Greek, the dual is infrequent compared to the plural, but nonetheless a viable form; by the time of Pericles, the dual had practically vanished. In Latin, the dual survived only in the forms of the number two and certain forms of the pronouns, such as uter, which incorporated duality into their meaning.
Hawaiian Rapanui Samoan
1Sg owau/au ko au a'u/ou
2Sg 'oe ko koe 'oe/'e
3Sg oia/ia ko ia 'o ia
1DuI ma'ua ko taua ta'ua
1DuE ma'ua ko maua ma'ua
2Du 'olua ko korua 'oulua
3Du la'ua ko ra'ua latou
1PlI kakou - tatou
1PlE makou - matou
2Pl 'oukou - 'outou
3Pl lakou - latou
There are two possibilities for the discrepancy: either the Hawaiian 2nd person dual changed from -'ua to -lua under the influence of the Hawaiian number lua 'two' or the Samoan 2nd person dual has changed to 'oulua under the influence of 'outou. There latter seems more likely, given the Rapanui forms ko korua and ko ia which correspond to Hawaiian ('o) 'olua and 'oia (which is a contraction of 'o + ia, as I shall discuss in the next post. Samoan is more closely related to Hawaiian than Rapanui, but also more influenced by other closely related languages. A further suggestion that the 2nd person dual never fit the rest of the dual pattern is that the 2nd person dual is the only person in which the singular form could be connected to the dual and plural; the singulars au and ia bear no resemblance the dual and plural roots ka-, ma-, and la-. The Samoan alteration of the 2nd person singular forms 'oe and 'e provides an analysis of 'oe as 'o + 'e and the possibility of reconstructing 'olua from 'o + lua. If this be case, of course, then a similar simplification has occurred in Rapanui, which in turn implies that the assumption of the plural function by the dual forms in Rapanui occurred after the reanalysis of an ancestral dual kourua as the new dual korua.
Monday, December 21, 2009
The Two of Us, Part Two
If I'm going to call this blog "The Smartest Man on 8th Avenue", I have to be prepared to think deeply and to do some research. Originally, this post was intended to discuss two matters. The former is an update on the inclusive-exclusive distinction, and the latter is a more detailed look at the origins of the pronominal cases in Hawaiian. Since I have written at length on the inclusive-exclusive distinction, I shall save the origins of pronominal cases for the next post on the Hawaiian language.
I have failed so far to locate my wayward and worn Hawaiian dictionary, in order to clarify which forms are inclusive and which are exclusive. Fortunately, my South Pacific Phrasebook has provided the answer through the miracle of comparative linguistics. One of the benefits (for the Europeans, anyway) of the colonization of the Pacific was the close relationship to each other of the Polynesian languages. In many cases, the kidnapped natives of one island could speak, with moderate effort, to the inhabitants of another island. The relative closeness of Polynesian languages was a boon to the field of linguistics in the nineteenth century, even if there were aborted (and, in hindsight, absurd) attempts to connect the language to Original Language (which, naturally, was something similar to Biblical Hebrew).
I scoured the South Pacific Phrasebook for pronominal paradigms and found two (oddly, neither was under the Hawaiian section): Rapanui (Easter Island) and Samoan. In Rapanui, the menage à
trois of the grammatical number system appears to have collapsed into the rather prosaic singular-plural distinction. This is a common phenomenon, except in this case the dual (taua, maua, korua, ra'ua) survived as the new plural form rather than the more usual elimination of the dual. One advantage of Rapanui for comparative linguistics is the island's isolation which wrought its environmental Armageddon but beautifully preserved its isolation. The Samoan paradigm maintains the distinction between the dual (ta'ua, ma'ua, 'oulua, la'ua) and the plural (tatou, matou, 'outou, latou), and thus is a closer paradigmatic comparison to Hawaiian, but is linguistically more suspect due to a high level of interisland interaction. The deficiencies of one language balance those of the other; thus I can state with some confidence that the Hawaiian form (according to the 'okina-less orthography of Judd) kaua is the inclusive form of 'we' and maua is the exclusive form.
Further confirmation of this conclusion, other than the unaltered form of maua, comes from the two registers of Samoan. A register is a social level of language selected for the appropriate degree of sollemnity or familiarity. The clearest example in the United States of different registers is the young woman who uses ethnically appropriate urban slang with her friends and family, but "business English" when she is answering the phone at the office. In Samoan, there are two registers: the t-style and the k-style, of which the former is formal and the latter familiar. The t-style is the one in which the words in the phrasebook are written, but a visitor might hear phrases in the k-style as well when they visit the Kingdom of Samoa or the American territory. Notable features of the transformation from t-style to k-style are the eponymous conversion of t to k and n to g (pronounced as ng in sing); I leave out the pronunciation of r as l because that distinction was a missionary innovation, whereas pre-colonial words have minimum pairs contained t and k, and n and g. These two transformations are particularly interesting because the linguistic evolution of Hawaiian derives contemporary k from ancestral t (as in Samoan) and n from both n and ng (the opposite result, but the same conflation as Samoan). One of the features of the Kauai dialect was the continued use of t while the dialect of the other islands had switched to k; there was no extensive conflation of k- and t-words, however, since the change from t to k was part of a linguistic change which included a change of k to the 'okina, the apostrophe which seems to be arbitrarily absent in Judd. This absence of the linguistic change in the Kauai dialect may explain the mockery which the peasants of the interior Waimea canyon received for alleged overuse the 'okina. Cook first landed on Kauai at Waimea, and therefore introduced the forms ti and taro into English, rather than the official Hawaiian forms of ki and kalo. Since borrowed words usually do not include personal pronouns, kaua is the Hawaiian form of taua (except on "Tauai").
I have failed so far to locate my wayward and worn Hawaiian dictionary, in order to clarify which forms are inclusive and which are exclusive. Fortunately, my South Pacific Phrasebook has provided the answer through the miracle of comparative linguistics. One of the benefits (for the Europeans, anyway) of the colonization of the Pacific was the close relationship to each other of the Polynesian languages. In many cases, the kidnapped natives of one island could speak, with moderate effort, to the inhabitants of another island. The relative closeness of Polynesian languages was a boon to the field of linguistics in the nineteenth century, even if there were aborted (and, in hindsight, absurd) attempts to connect the language to Original Language (which, naturally, was something similar to Biblical Hebrew).
I scoured the South Pacific Phrasebook for pronominal paradigms and found two (oddly, neither was under the Hawaiian section): Rapanui (Easter Island) and Samoan. In Rapanui, the menage à
trois of the grammatical number system appears to have collapsed into the rather prosaic singular-plural distinction. This is a common phenomenon, except in this case the dual (taua, maua, korua, ra'ua) survived as the new plural form rather than the more usual elimination of the dual. One advantage of Rapanui for comparative linguistics is the island's isolation which wrought its environmental Armageddon but beautifully preserved its isolation. The Samoan paradigm maintains the distinction between the dual (ta'ua, ma'ua, 'oulua, la'ua) and the plural (tatou, matou, 'outou, latou), and thus is a closer paradigmatic comparison to Hawaiian, but is linguistically more suspect due to a high level of interisland interaction. The deficiencies of one language balance those of the other; thus I can state with some confidence that the Hawaiian form (according to the 'okina-less orthography of Judd) kaua is the inclusive form of 'we' and maua is the exclusive form.
Further confirmation of this conclusion, other than the unaltered form of maua, comes from the two registers of Samoan. A register is a social level of language selected for the appropriate degree of sollemnity or familiarity. The clearest example in the United States of different registers is the young woman who uses ethnically appropriate urban slang with her friends and family, but "business English" when she is answering the phone at the office. In Samoan, there are two registers: the t-style and the k-style, of which the former is formal and the latter familiar. The t-style is the one in which the words in the phrasebook are written, but a visitor might hear phrases in the k-style as well when they visit the Kingdom of Samoa or the American territory. Notable features of the transformation from t-style to k-style are the eponymous conversion of t to k and n to g (pronounced as ng in sing); I leave out the pronunciation of r as l because that distinction was a missionary innovation, whereas pre-colonial words have minimum pairs contained t and k, and n and g. These two transformations are particularly interesting because the linguistic evolution of Hawaiian derives contemporary k from ancestral t (as in Samoan) and n from both n and ng (the opposite result, but the same conflation as Samoan). One of the features of the Kauai dialect was the continued use of t while the dialect of the other islands had switched to k; there was no extensive conflation of k- and t-words, however, since the change from t to k was part of a linguistic change which included a change of k to the 'okina, the apostrophe which seems to be arbitrarily absent in Judd. This absence of the linguistic change in the Kauai dialect may explain the mockery which the peasants of the interior Waimea canyon received for alleged overuse the 'okina. Cook first landed on Kauai at Waimea, and therefore introduced the forms ti and taro into English, rather than the official Hawaiian forms of ki and kalo. Since borrowed words usually do not include personal pronouns, kaua is the Hawaiian form of taua (except on "Tauai").
Friday, December 18, 2009
A Little Foggy On The "Good Turn" Concept
Recently I heard a story on NPR about Scouts about which I have ambivalent feeling. According to this report, a thief (not the Boy Scout) stole a wallet, removed the money, and abandoned it. The thief, who obviously was not a particularly competent thief, did not check the other compartments, in which there was cash in excess of the easily accessible amount. The aforementioned Boy Scout found the wallet and returned it to the owner. I have no issue with that sort of honesty; what bothers me is his acceptance of the $100 reward, which is against the Scout code.
The story of how the Boy Scouts were established in the United States goes as follows: American publishers W.D. Boyce was on a business trip to London when he became lost in the "fog" (since we would now call it smog) and recieved help from a Scout, who refused the tip which Boyce offered. Although the legend differs from the truth (the truth of fact and the truth of legend serve different purposes), the fundamental point remains the same: Boyce was impressed by the boy's refusal of the tip and his willingness to help without promise of monetary compensation. One of the founding policies of the Boy Scouts of America was that one should do good deeds for their own sake, not for compensation. I do not believe in the either/or model of motivation, so I do concede that it is possible to do something because it is the right thing to do and recieve money, but the Boy Scouts of America, in order to prevent any confusion on the motivation of their members, requires that Boy Scouts not accept rewards. This is especially true when members are in uniform.
I shall relate something which occurred a bit more recently, so that my readers do not think that this policy is some sort of "rotten borough". When the Troop was on a recent camping trip (the SRH, for those in the know), one of the boys discovered a cell phone dropped on the trail. We called the number and arranged to meet the relieved owner in the parking lot of a certain supermarket chain. When we had finished the hike and were returning home, we stopped at the aforementioned parking lot and waited a short while. The owner eventually arrived and tried to reward us, and we found it somewhat difficult to convince him that we could not take the reward - hence my lack of surprise at the approving tone of the recent news story and its discrepancy from BSA policy.
The story of how the Boy Scouts were established in the United States goes as follows: American publishers W.D. Boyce was on a business trip to London when he became lost in the "fog" (since we would now call it smog) and recieved help from a Scout, who refused the tip which Boyce offered. Although the legend differs from the truth (the truth of fact and the truth of legend serve different purposes), the fundamental point remains the same: Boyce was impressed by the boy's refusal of the tip and his willingness to help without promise of monetary compensation. One of the founding policies of the Boy Scouts of America was that one should do good deeds for their own sake, not for compensation. I do not believe in the either/or model of motivation, so I do concede that it is possible to do something because it is the right thing to do and recieve money, but the Boy Scouts of America, in order to prevent any confusion on the motivation of their members, requires that Boy Scouts not accept rewards. This is especially true when members are in uniform.
I shall relate something which occurred a bit more recently, so that my readers do not think that this policy is some sort of "rotten borough". When the Troop was on a recent camping trip (the SRH, for those in the know), one of the boys discovered a cell phone dropped on the trail. We called the number and arranged to meet the relieved owner in the parking lot of a certain supermarket chain. When we had finished the hike and were returning home, we stopped at the aforementioned parking lot and waited a short while. The owner eventually arrived and tried to reward us, and we found it somewhat difficult to convince him that we could not take the reward - hence my lack of surprise at the approving tone of the recent news story and its discrepancy from BSA policy.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Chorus Girls!
On Thursday night, I accompanied my mother to the University Club to hear the San Francisco Girls' Chorus, since my progenitor was feeling indisposed and two tickets had already been purchased. The University Club is located near my original alma mater, Cathedral School for Boys, whose construction proceeds apace. This Club looks like a real Club, complete with cute hatcheck girls, although the secret door from the library to the former brothel has been closed forever. I'm glad to see that they finally labeled (for the sexes) the restrooms which they have disguised as, or converted from, mirrored coat closets, even if the handles are forbiddingly stiff. I have to confess that after I had stopped at the restroom on the 3rd floor, I got confused and initially entered the wrong holiday party (the Princeton one). I could have sworn I had heard or read the name of the person (L., One of the Levi-Strauss line?) behind me in the check-in line of the Princeton party.
Once I had ascended to the fourth floor, where the party I was supposed to be attending was, I found the bar and ordered a wine spritzer. I met a member of the Club, a white-haired gentleman named Murray. He regularly attends the Charles Fracchia lectures on the history of San Francisco, which I cannot attend (to my regret) because the Troop meets the same night. He, too, is an Eagle Scout (even many Scouts forget that Eagle is the only rank you retain as a adult).
The San Francisco Girls' Chorus event was a participatory event, a sing-along, but they must have been singing quietly or taken a break from singing, since I knew we had arrived in the middle of the event yet I did not hear them when I first arrived. There were some sing-along sheets, but the extras were placed, rather unwisely, directly in front of the chorus, where no latecomer (who would be most in need of a quick update) could possibly grab one. The chorus performed with quality, which is no less than I expect from San Francisco artistic institutions. Speculation on whether any of the chorus members were relatives of one of my Scouts (and if so, which ones) briefly distracted me. This is a small city, after all.
After the singing had ended and the singers had filed out one by one, I went out to the south-facing (downhill) balcony so I could take in the sights of the downtown. The balcony is sufficiently vertiginous from the slope of Nob Hill without alcoholic contributions.One of the towers, possibly one of the Embarcadero Center ones, was lit up in green, outshining the building outlined in yellow and the relatively tiny red pinprick of the Transamerica Pyramid, still visible from Presidio Heights in my childhood.
Once I had ascended to the fourth floor, where the party I was supposed to be attending was, I found the bar and ordered a wine spritzer. I met a member of the Club, a white-haired gentleman named Murray. He regularly attends the Charles Fracchia lectures on the history of San Francisco, which I cannot attend (to my regret) because the Troop meets the same night. He, too, is an Eagle Scout (even many Scouts forget that Eagle is the only rank you retain as a adult).
The San Francisco Girls' Chorus event was a participatory event, a sing-along, but they must have been singing quietly or taken a break from singing, since I knew we had arrived in the middle of the event yet I did not hear them when I first arrived. There were some sing-along sheets, but the extras were placed, rather unwisely, directly in front of the chorus, where no latecomer (who would be most in need of a quick update) could possibly grab one. The chorus performed with quality, which is no less than I expect from San Francisco artistic institutions. Speculation on whether any of the chorus members were relatives of one of my Scouts (and if so, which ones) briefly distracted me. This is a small city, after all.
After the singing had ended and the singers had filed out one by one, I went out to the south-facing (downhill) balcony so I could take in the sights of the downtown. The balcony is sufficiently vertiginous from the slope of Nob Hill without alcoholic contributions.One of the towers, possibly one of the Embarcadero Center ones, was lit up in green, outshining the building outlined in yellow and the relatively tiny red pinprick of the Transamerica Pyramid, still visible from Presidio Heights in my childhood.
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