I formerly used this blog for a class project. That's not what it is anymore. This is just a personal blog now...with a really fancy title

Monday, February 20, 2012

Race-- What is It?

Here's another discussion post from my Anthro class. I hope to startle my (very) young classmates with it. My info came mainly from last semester's class "Perspectives in Diversity," taught by Dr. J.Q. Adams at Governors State University in University Park IL. It might startle you, too. I can't wait to see the responses, in class and out.


Race does not exist. The term is a “social construct,” a concept invented to serve a social purpose.
 
Biologically, all human beings, Homo sapiens, are the same. Variations in skin color and other superficial attributes are present, but the bone structure and all internal organs are the same. If you need a blood transfusion, your blood type has to match but the donor could be Caucasian, Asian, Native American or Black. If you need an organ transplant, tissue type must match but the heart or liver will work from a Swede, an Eskimo or a Masai tribesman. A surgeon can’t tell the “race” of a patient on the table by what the insides look like.
I’m going to say it again. Race does not exist. The term is a “social construct.”
The National Geographic Society’s Genographic Project https://genographic.nationalgeographic.com/genographic/lan/en/index.htm  has determined, using “cutting-edge genetic and computational technologies to analyze historical patterns in DNA from participants around the world to better understand our human genetic roots1, that all humans living on Earth today originally came from Africa. Variations are all the result of adaptation to different habitats and reproductive habits.2
One more time because this is so revolutionary:
Race does not exist. The term is a “social construct.”
If “Race” is a “social construct,” then why did man invent it? My speculation is that it arose from the need for ancient societies to survive. In order for a group to survive with a finite amount of resources, a distinction had to be made between “us”--entitled to the protection and nurturing of the group--and “them.”--not only not entitled to the protection and nurturing of the group, but possibly dangerous to “us.” This tendency to classify people between “us” and “them” continues to the present day for similar perceived reasons. Race is not the only way that “them” is defined. Socioeconomic status, culture, language and even age enter into the equation. Is this distinction still necessary today? I don’t think so.
I fervently hope and pray that I live long enough to see a world of “individuals” arise, where each person is evaluated according to themselves, not their color, culture or status.

2Owen, Jana “Lecture Notes” Week 6, ANT-101-W02-1SP sorry, Blogger readers, I'm not going to quote the extensive material on how human variations arise from Professor Owen's lecture. :-)

The joke's on me...

This semester I'm taking a couple of 100 level classes because I took Psychology and Anthropology back in the 70s. It's interesting to have mostly 18-20 year olds in class. I posted this in the Anthro when it seemed that my classmates had no idea what constitutes "reliable" sources:


I hope that it’s not out of line to start a whole new thread, but this doesn’t quite fit with a response to any one thread in this discussion. It does fit in the discussion.
Other ideas and opinions that we’ve discussed here got me thinking about the use of the “Scientific Method” in Anthropology. I went in search of the source of one of my favorite quotes so that I could cite it properly. “The plural of anecdote is not data.” Bear in mind that I am transitioning from a “hard” science, Medical Laboratory Technology, where this statement is true.
I found more questions than answers. That pleased me, since I love questions. It also frustrated me, since I wanted an answer.
Google sent me to a “wiki” (collaborative) site first and I found conflicting information. Not only was the origin of the quote debatable, but the second wiki contributor (screen name Joram) actually said that the original statement was really the opposite. “The plural of anecdote is data.” (boldface mine)1 So here I was, confronted by information that conflicted with what I thought was right. It even cited a source that I would consider credible and trustworthy, linguistlist.org. I had even used that source for last week’s paper exploring sociolinguistics.
So, “bazinga!” The joke is now on me. I kept looking.
The third entry (from screen name “Nubian Goddess”) in the wiki brought up some additional considerations about the Scientific Method. The most interesting to me was “The truth is that neither data nor anecdotes prove anything. Scientific theories are never, ever, ever proven. They can only be disproven.1  I followed the link she provided to an interesting article on that perspective.2
Though that article was posted on another wiki (wikis are not appropriate academic sources and I’m only using them here to illustrate the path as it developed), it presented some food for thought about the questions of “proof” and “certainty.” It also introduced me another academic field that I never knew existed, “Philosophy of Science.” Who knew that these fields could coexist? I went to that page in the wiki.3  I found more links to more sources and they were all fascinating. Some were from credible sources and some were not.
By then it was late. I was tired. I had forgotten what the original reason was that I wanted to post a response using my then-favorite-now-questionable quote.
I left the laptop off this morning. I had paid good money for Thinking Anthropologically and thought maybe it was time to do something besides skim through it. Sure, there haven’t been any “assignments” in it. It’s just the secondary text for the class. I had debated even buying it.
“Double-bazinga!” There was everything I had wondered about concerning scientific methods in Anthropology—and more.
What’s the moral of the story? I’ll put it in question form. How much time do you have to “chase rabbits” for classwork? If you had to guess, would you trust “Nubian Goddess” or Salzman & Rice for credible information? Is there a good reason for Thinking Anthropologically to be required for this course?
To extend the questions into “real” life, who do you trust for credible information? Your Aunt Gladys can advise you on all manner of knitting techniques. You love her dearly and would trust her with your life. Would you ask her how to set up your wi-fi network? Your preacher is a good man (or woman) who really loves God. Will you ask him how to crossmatch blood for a transfusion? There are a lot of very interesting shows on, for instance, the History Channel. Are these shows simple entertainment, food for thought or accepted fact for you? Do you do any deeper research on a show’s subject? (A few of us have, and that’s neat.) Where do you get credible information on any subject?
I fell into the trap of “chasing rabbits” last night. I can’t resist giving advice based on that experience. Read the book, folks. Avoid the “bazinga!”

2 “Scientific Proof (idea)” by (screen name) Pimephalis http://everything2.com/index.pl?node=scientific%20proof%20%28idea%29
3 “Philosophy of Science and Certainty” by (screen name) cabin fever   http://everything2.com/title/Philosophy+of+Science+and+Certainty

Monday, November 28, 2011

The Poetry of Donovan


The Poetry of Donovan

Donovan Leitch was, and is, an iconic figure in the 60s music scene. His early career featured folk songs and he adapted through the wave of psychedelia, becoming a spokesman for the flower children's initial drive for a gentler, less materialistic world. His hit songs are well known, but the magic of the poetry in lesser known album cuts has been largely forgotten. Donovan himself referred to his poetry as “dry songs,” meaning without music, but his imagery, with or without music, remains anything but dry.

Donovan shared influences common to many American folk singers, Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and others, but also inherited a rich history of British folk music with its myriad of legends stretching back into antiquity.
A key difference between American folk music and British folk music is the depth of historical, mythical and religious factors that have become imbedded in the British psyche. Granted that some American folk music was brought to this country by British immigrants, the proportion of a few hundred years against millennia still speaks volumes for the imbalance of experience.
 

Even to dip a toe into the world of folklore is to unearth an Other Britain, one composed of mysterious fragments and survivals – a rickety bridge to the sweet grass of Albion. As Bert Lloyd mentioned, ‘To our toiling ancestors [these customs] meant everything, and in a queer irrational way they can still mean much to us.’
-Young, Rob (2011-05-10). Electric Eden: Unearthing Britain's Visionary Music (p. 183). Macmillan. Kindle Edition.

One of the British people’s most treasured objects is their land. Be it woods, meadows, rocky hills or windswept islands, the land holds more than a means of making a living. The land is the tie between the present and the past. The land connects souls.
(in 1965) …he purchased three islands off the coast of Scotland
Islay, Mingay and Clett, near Skye’s north-west Vaternish peninsula, where he and his friend/‘manager’ Gypsy Dave intended to set up a ‘Renaissance community’ of artists, musicians and poets in a row of tumbledown shepherds’ cottages. In tandem with this dreamy project, he released the double album A Gift from a Flower to a Garden in 1967, which included a languid slice of Highlands picturesque, ‘Isle of Islay’
Young, Rob (2011-05-10). Electric Eden: Unearthing Britain's Visionary Music (p. 19). Macmillan. Kindle Edition.
Donovan writes in the chorus of his song, Isle of Islay:
“…felt like a seed on your land,
Felt like a grain of your sand,
Felt like the tide left me here…”
Dry Songs and Scribbles, Donovan ©1967
The land and the sea are common themes for island dwellers, and Donovan is no exception. He attributed the love of the land to his (and all of Britain’s) Celtic roots:

“…I was mocked as a simpleton, when I sang of birds and bees and flowers like a child. Indeed, I was keeping the “wonder eye” open – just like a child.
     I was also showing concern for the future of the world’s ecosystem…The shamanism of the Celts finds the supreme spiritual forces in the natural world. This is why, for the Celts, Mother Earth is the Goddess.” 1

Little pebble upon the sand, now you’re lying here in my hand,
How many years have you been here?
Little human upon the sand, from where I’m lying here in your hand,
You, to me, are but a passing breeze.
The sun will always shine where we stand
Depending in which land we may find ourselves.
Now you have my blessing, go your way
Dry songs and scribbles ©1967

The blessing of the pebble has been given, and the blessings of nature continued throughout Donovan’s music and poetry through the years. These images are understood at their core by the British folk tradition, even if not consciously.
‘The folk-memory does not retain conscious ritualism, or intellectualized secrecy,’ comments one folk historian, ‘but works as in a dream. In this way, despite a tough oral memory, the spirit of the nature rites is still present.’
Young, Rob (2011-05-10). Electric Eden: Unearthing Britain's Visionary Music (p. 185). Macmillan. Kindle Edition.
Even in nature songs that critics have deemed “childish,” flashes of sophisticated imagery weave their way through Donovan’s narratives:
Lullaby of spring “…chiffchaff eggs are painted by mother bird eating cherries…”
Peregrine “…peregrine falcon, hooded and flying, wither ye go, blindly, over the mountain…”
Terracotta: “…the riddle of birds lay solved by the lake…”

Arthurian legends featured largely in the music of Donovan. His song “Guinevere” showed her,
“…draped in white velvet, silk and lace,
Indigo eyes in the flickering candlelight,
such is the silence ‘ore royal Camelot…”
Donovan didn’t confine his poetry to written words. He had been an art student before setting off on his musical adventure and he used that talent to embellish everything that he loved, including his elusive love, Linda, who would later become his wife.
On Sunday I took Linda down to the Portobello Road Market and bought her an antique lace gown, velvet costumes and Victorian baubles. I wanted to dress her in the style of the Pre-Raphaelite paintings that I loved. 2
Even that small excursion would become verse.
Damp uncomfortable, Portabella market day
Cold cutting winds, Ruffled the velvet covered stalls, Everybody is hustlin’
I buy a bloodstone ring, And smile in grey light
With a chilled lip that’s taken a sip of happiness
Feel kissed, for I think of you
Dry Songs and Scribbles ©1971
For Linda, the recipient of the bloodstone ring, Donovan would pour out his finest images. Linda had been the paramour of Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones, bearing his son, Julian. After Jones essentially abandoned the young mother and child, she was understandably reticent about falling in love with another “rock star.” Donovan still pursued her, with varying degrees of intensity, for years before they finally married. Enough time passed before their marriage for Donovan to father two children with his American girlfriend, Enid. Even during that time, he still longed for Linda while (he admitted) leading Enid along to keep him from being lonely. When the longing for Linda combined with Camelot inspired images, the result was the song “Legend of a Girl Child Linda.” The song never wavers from lush pictures of fairy-tale children in a fairy-tale world on a failed mission to save “the kingdom” from sadness. The first and last lines frame the story:
“I will bring you gold apples and grapes made of rubies
That have shone in the eyes of the Prince of the breeze…”
And then
“…My sword, it lies broken, and cast in a lake.
In the dream I was told that my princess would wake.”
When it came to Linda (and love in general in Linda’s absence) Donovan would compose a love song from the smallest detail, the slimmest inspiration.
Little Linda glowing cinder, Sparkle like a star
The sun and roses merely show us ‘zactly where we are
A jaguar in a hollow car Far in the winter lane
Lacework trees The jack-frost breeze Pheasant birds are slain
Dry Songs and Scribbles ©1971
 
Like all poets, Donovan was an exceptional observer of people. He was adept at painting a psychic picture of someone in just a few lines. His portrait of the Writer in the Sun captures the loneliness of a stranger:
The magazine girl poses
on my glossy paper aeroplane
too many years I spent in the city
playing with Mr. Loss & Gain
and here I sit, the retired writer in the Sun
I bathe in the Sun of the morning
lemon circles swim in the tea
fishing for time with a wishing line
and throwing it back in the sea
and here I sit, the retired writer in the Sun
Dry Songs and Scribbles ©1971
And a lady seen from afar on a hotel veranda
In the Hotel Juliet at a little table sat
Lady sipping Vichy beneath a lemon tree
In the Hotel Juliet, in the south of France they met
but that was long ago, the memory told her so
In the Hotel Juliet salada vinegrette
reciting by the sea, Rimbaud poetry
In the Hotel Juliet she dreams with no regret
a friendly half carafe, an ancient phonograph
In the Hotel Juliet at a little table sat
sentimental Lady beneath a lemon tree
Dry Songs and Scribbles ©1971

Donovan was not yet 25 years old when he had reached the top of his field and called “retreat” from the madness of what songwriter Joni Mitchell described as the “star maker machinery behind the popular song.” During his rise he was, by his own admission, immature and self-centered. We can observe some of his maturation process in another poem/song that was the product of another chance encounter of a stranger. During a trip to New York prior to the U.S. release of his album, “Sunshine Superman,” he writes:
“During that trip to New York Gyp and I were staying in a hotel called The Hampshire House. Up in the dark rooms overlooking the park, I sat up late with Shawn and a young girl singer. Her hair was cropped, an unusual style then. She explained that her hair had been caught in a Ferris wheel. A near-death situation. There in a dark gloom of the Hampshire House apartment I felt a chill, like a pall, descending on my journey…Was fame a trap?...Was my freedom slipping away?” 3
The poem/song that resulted is a cautionary tale to those who chase the bright carnival lights of fame – and the remedy for the consequences of failure to prepare.
Walkin’ in the sea shore twilight, It’s then you spy carnival lights
You slowly near a magic sight, tangerine sky minus one kite
Take time and tie your pretty hair
The gypsy driver doesn’t care if you catch your hair in the Ferris wheel and turn
A silver bicycle you shall ride, to bathe your mind in the quiet tide.
Far off as it seems, your hair will mend, with the Sampson strength to begin again
Take time and dry your pretty eyes
Watch the seagull fly from far off skies
To build its nest in the Ferris wheel and turn
Dry Songs and Scribbles ©1968
The child-like wonder of Donovan’s story-songs and idealistic mysticism has mostly faded from favor in our materialistic, technology driven society. We are so very sophisticated in our tastes. We are so demanding of our comfort. We spend our lives chasing the next big thing that will finally give our lives meaning and contentment. We live in terror that something unknown will come along to knock us out of the positions that we’ve worked so hard for. We forget that these fears are part of the territory when we neglect the deeper primordial needs of the human being.

While there has always been someone ready to poke fun at folk singers and Morris dancers, the mockery only really turned hostile in the late 1970s, by which time most utopian dreams, hangovers from the 1960s, were falling permanently out of reach. (p. 8). …Folk music was, after all, first and foremost the People’s Music: harboured and preserved in the common mind through the decades and centuries, and sung and danced without the ‘permission’ of the cultural elite or the scrutiny of a trendsetting media. (p. 117). …it will continue to need the friction between conservation and progression, city and country, acoustics and electricity, homespun and visionary, familiar and uncanny. (p 9)
           Young, Rob (2011-05-10). Electric Eden: Unearthing Britain's Visionary Music (p. 9). Macmillan.

A popular video proclaims thatThe Dirty %&#@*!* Hippies, WERE RIGHT! • ¨ - YouTube.flv The video evaluates the political and ecological philosophies of the “hippies” in light of what has happened to our society in the last 40-plus years. For our own sanity, we might allow for a little more “hippie” philosophy, Donovan style, applied to our inner lives. Peace may never be possible in the outside world, but maybe viewing the world with the eyes of a child, we may find a measure of peace within.

Come close your eyes and hear
melodies from an old music box
Tinkling as tendems and years
go tumbling like tresses and small perfumed locks
sweet dreams were sewn
‘tween the years of her life
a tear in her little kerchief
waiving and fading away, with her
Bottled sands Tomorrow from the Shores of Yesterday
Oh will our visions of Tomorrow mingle with those of Yesterday?
Dry Songs and Scribbles ©1971



Bibliography

1 Hurdy Gurdy Man: the Autobiography of Donovan by Donovan Leitch
St Martin’s Press 2005
ISBN 0312364342
p111
 2 ibid p 105
 3 ibid p 131

Dry Songs and Scribbles by Donovan Leitch
Doubleday & Company, Inc. 1971
©1971 except for previously copyrighted items
Library of Congress Catalog Card 70-147359

Electric Eden by Rob Young (Kindle Edition)
Faber & Faber 2010
Page Numbers Source ISBN: 0865478562