Harper vs Longoria

It's impossible not to get caught up in election fever -- unfolding now as I post -- even as a somewhat bemused Canadian (although, now that I am a resident, suddenly the election does seem a tad more relevant than it did before).

A couple of political aspects have struck me about the States. First, as everybody has noted, politics is far, far more passionate and divisive here than in Canada. The levels of hostility are somewhat alarming to behold, although I've mostly either observed them through the media or anecdotally. Truth be told, I have yet to meet an out-of-the-closet McCain supporter (they're hard to come by on Massachusetts Liberal Arts campuses), but I have heard one first-hand account of a woman in Texas reporting that a terrorist was parked nearby because she had seen an Obama bumper sticker.

People here do not vote Democrat or Republican, they are Liberals or Conservatives. Political affiliation is a far, far greater part of one's personal identity than in Canada. Combining this with the extreme emotions that have built up over the last 8 years has resulted in a weirdly intense climate that doesn't really compare to election time North of the border.

Enough about the divisive nature of the political climate here: other Canadians have blogged about this topic already, and better (this link points to a fascinating post from an American Liberal who finds his hatred of the Right to be approaching the bigotry and intolerance he himself opposes).

I though I would mention an aspect of all this that has really impressed me: people take their democracy very, very seriously down here. Not long after we arrived last year, there was an election for mayor of the town next to ours, and crowds of placard-carrying chanting supporters filled the downtown.

For the federal election, various state-level "propositions" are voted upon. Months prior to today, government-printed booklets with detailed examinations of the issues behind the propositions were widely distributed. Each proposition contained a (relatively) intelligent argument for and against (the online versions are here, here, and here). I have never seen anything close to such material in Canada.

Mind you, all the material and placards in the world does not result in informed voting or high voter turnout; nevertheless, I've been genuinely impressed by how democratic processes are (in some ways) taken more seriously here.

Plus, in terms of sheer entertainment, Election 2008 has been the best damn soap opera I've seen in a while. Frankly, comparing it to Election 2008: Canadian Edition was like comparing Desperate Housewives to CPAC.

Exotic local delicacies

A while back at work we got into a conversation about twinkies, and my American colleagues were shocked (SHOCKED!) and bemused to find that I had never had one.

(An aside: I think health Canada may have actually outlawed them. I do remember reading the comic book ads from the 70s advertising twinkies and Hostess Cup Cakes and wondering: cake? in a bag? How does that work?)

Anyway, to their delight and my horror they presented me with a real-life twinkie, all livid sponge cake and creme filling. I tried it and unbeknownst to me, somebody was on hand with a camera (thanks, Scott) to record the moment.

 

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is just that good.

Please note that it is evident that the kreme filling is not milk-based in any way, but some sort of petroleum product.

So was Goldilocks Canadian, or just a fairy tale American?

I uncovered another weird linguistic variation between Canada and the U.S. the other day. During an everyday discussion of "so what do you eat for breakfast?" with a colleague, I mentioned that I usually have porridge.

"You have what?" he exclaimed.

"Um, porridge," I said.

"That's hilarious! I've never heard anyone use the word 'porridge' before."

"Okay, what do you call oatmeal porridge?"

"Oatmeal!"

"Okay, and if it's not oatmeal, what do you call it?"

"Cream of wheat!"

"So, no one in the U.S. calls that kind of food 'porridge'?"

"Only in fairy tales."

Looking for a house, Part II

Today we checked out a real bargain — close to transit, decent size, enormous back yard - all for $240,000 (a good deal for Mansfield). We toured the house with mounting interest (a new addition with potlights, that's nice; a new kitchen, that's a plus; okay, the bedroom has wood paneling; we can work with that).

Inevitably, Beny has to use the toilet (I swear, for Benjamin house-hunting is the world's most potent laxative), so we go to the small bathroom off the kitchen. While I'm overseeing the process, I notice that the floor has significant sagging in the middle. What's more, small toadstool mushrooms are growing out of the middle of the bathroom floor. "That's odd," I think.

(Sorry, no pictures! I wished I'd brought the camera now)

Meanwhile, G. emerges from a tour of the basement with our agent, saying "Uh, you have got to check out the basement. Look up and to your right." So I finish up Ben and go downstairs to a dirt floor basement. I look up at the beams, which run under the first floor (including the bathroom). They are completely rotten; I can sink a fingernail into one easily.

It's a miracle the house is still standing, and we get the hell out as fast as we can.

Caveat emptor

The innocence of childhood

I've been reading a really good book in the last few days called You Can't Say You Can't Play, by Vivian Paley. It's a fascinating look at kindergarten and grade-school social politics.

Paley performs an experiment in her kindergarten class: what if social exclusion were simply banned? I'm just starting the section called "The New Order Begins" in which a new law is about to drop: nobody is allowed to exclude anyone else from playing with them.

Prior to enacting this law, Paley interviews each grade in the school for their feedback and thoughts on social exclusion. Many of these interviews are transcribed, and it shows the amazing self-awareness kids have of their own social interactions, as well as the complexity of schoolyard politics. Here are some examples; from the second grade class:

[A girl recalls ... ] "you didn't let me come in your club yesterday anyways!"

"It wasn't me. It was Curtis." He points to a tall blond boy. "He's the boss. He says who comes in the club."

Curtis is uncomfortable. "I don't want to be the boss. They say I am."

"We call him the boss," the boy explains.

"Yeah, because I made up the game. They wait for me to make up the game. Then I have to pick everyone or say no." [...]

"Tell me," I say, "why exactly is a boss necessary?"

"If they didn't have bosses," a boy replies, "they could just vote [to decide if someone can be allowed to play with the rest]" [...] They all agree that voting usually works in favor of the person wanting to come in and is the fairest way to decide. But having a boss is much better. [...]

One girl seems to speak for the group. "See, the bad thing about voting is, if you don't vote for that person she'll see all the people who don't like her. If it's a boss that's only one person doesn't like you so you don't feel so bad."

This is grade 2, and the rules of engagement are completely established. Here's an example from kindergarten:

Waka: I say let two people whoever wants to play. But who they don't want has to find someone else. My brother says that. He's in fourth grade.

Teacher: We should ask the older children about this.

Angelo: [who is often excluded] Let anybody play if someone asks.

Lisa: [who is a leader who often excludes] But then what's the whole point of playing?

On a related note, this week the New York Times had a piece on studies of social hierarchies in high school, called Spot on Popularity Scale Speaks to the Future; Middle Has Its Rewards. It notes that for "the rejected group, on the lowest rung on the ladder", their position is completely internalized by highschool:

In several remarkable studies, researchers have brought together students from different schools, representing different levels of the social hierarchy. Within hours, sometimes less, the children assume their accustomed places — the popular ones on top, the socially awkward on the bottom. Climbing out of the geek ghetto is hard, even if a child knows what likeability looks like.

However, not is all rosy for those on top. This passage reminds me of Curtis above:

Popularity, even the likable kind, can have costs. In his continuing study, Dr. Allen has found that the most socially skilled students are three times as likely to be drinking by age 14 as those outside the group. Up through 18, they are also more likely to commit vandalism, smoke marijuana and shoplift. They are, in short, seemlingly more vulnerable to peer pressure and expectations.

Some of those behaviors may just be due to increased opportunity and access: you can’t sample from the buffet if you’re not invited to the party.

Sam will be entering the school system next September.

Looking for a house, Part I, or: Putting the "hunting" in house-hunting

Yesterday we went house-hunting in Norton. Our budget being something less than minuscule, let us say that we are at the "lower end" of the housing market. Combined with a certain backwoods quality of Norton, this takes us into some interesting places.

We saw two houses. The first, a little bungalow featured a full closet by the front door that had no handle — it was a walk-in gun closet and the owners didn't want the children wandering in. The master bedroom also featured another gun closet, this one free-standing — a sort of "gun armoire" I suppose. We couldn't tour the yard because of the snarling dogs in the back.

The second house was a split level with a den in the basement. The den walls — indeed the walls throughout the house — were covered with animal heads and rear ends. Our real estate agent led me into dark workshop where there was a workbench with various implements, and corpses of a variety of local fauna in various stages of processing: the head of a deer, half of the rear end of a turkey, some bones. A shaved man in overalls was leaning against the bench. "I like to do taxidermy," he said.

Here are some promotional shots for your viewing pleasure:

Stay tuned — more adventures in house hunting await!

Should I be worried?

Today Sam overheard me listening to a Radiohead tune. He became obsessed with it, and I had to play it four or five times in a row for him.

The lyrics to this decidedly non-child-friendly song are:

I keep the wolf from the door
but he calls me up, calls me on the phone
tells me all the ways that he's gonna mess me up
Steal all my children if I don't pay the ransom and
I'll never see them again if I squeal to the cops ...

Evidently, Sam is going to make quite a teenager.