Brains, tradition and family history

Mayim Bialik is intense — and not that different from the geeky scientist she plays on TV’s #1 sitcom  “Big Bang Theory.” I resisted the show for a long time because of its canned laughter, which for me indicates phony silliness. Whoa, not so fast. “Big Bang Theory” is seriously funny. And now I have some backstory.

Recently I interviewed Bialik for a preview story on a major Jewish fundraising women’s brunch, which took place this morning. Bialik bounded onstage looking pretty much like Amy Farrah Fowler, only missing the glasses and the bobby-pinned hair.

In real life Bialik is an actress, mother, wife, religious Jewish woman and a neuroscientist, what most interests me. Studying neuropsychology at UCLA she discovered that all that good oxytocin — often referred to as the bonding hormone — has positive affects on the brain. No surprise, really, but science is about the evidence.

Once she and her husband had kids they decided that a lot of closeness — natural childbirth, breastfeeding, children sleeping near or in the same bed with parents, homeschooling — all part of attachment parenting, was the way to go.

Bialik spoke a lot this morning about taking on the values of her maternal grandmother, being closely connected to her grandmother’s Orthodox Jewish religious traditions.  “Attachment parenting” reminds me of many of the childrearing beliefs my post-1960s friends and I had about raising our kids, especially holding our babies a lot and nursing on demand.

Where am I going with this? Sure family history and tradition influence our behavior, how our brains work. To stimulate our brains as we age we’re supposed to learn new things, stretch our thinking…that’s what all the studies tell us these days.

From the online newsletter “Brain Pickings”: Neuroscientist David Eagleman, author of the excellent Incognito: The Secret Lives of the Brain, explores the concept of “the umwelt” coined by biologist Jakob von Uexküll in 1909 – the idea that different animals in the same ecosystem pick up on different elements of their environment and thus live in different micro-realities based on the subset of the world they’re able to detect. Eagleman stresses the importance of recognizing our own umwelt – our unawareness of the limits of our awareness:

I think it would be useful if the concept of the umwelt were embedded in the public lexicon. It neatly captures the idea of limited knowledge, of unobtainable information, and of unimagined possibilities. Consider the criticisms of policy, the assertions of dogma, the declarations of fact that you hear every day – and just imagine if all of these could be infused with the proper intellectual humility that comes from appreciating the amount unseen.”

Me again: When does family history or habit or dogma allow us to leap into original thinking? Is there such a thing? How do we best nurture our brains?

Guess I’m  little intense too.

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“The Way” is authentic, worth seeing

I have a stuffy head, so I cancelled all my appointments and went to the Loft Cinema. Maybe I wanted some clarity, or at least to focus on something other than myself. My friend Kathleen walked the Camino de Santiago through Spain, around 450 miles. Known as an ancient pilgrimage for religious or spiritual seekers, it could also be a worthwhile long walk, with stops in villages for sleep and eat and good wine along the way. 

Martin Sheen plays the lead, a distraught father who decides to make the trek, honoring his son who died in an accident after his first day. It would be too pat to say that he gets over his loss. He gets angry, he gets feisty, he gets drunk and causes a ruckus. Sheen plays an staid ophthalmologist in his early 60s from California whose wife has already died and he’s alone. He’s an upstanding guy. He steps out of his restrained life to walk in his son’s shoes.

Although the pilgrimage — or whatever it is for the participant — is  often solitary I’ve heard from Kathleen that you meet others along the way, people for all over the world with their own stories. In “The Way,” Sheen at first wants to be left alone he ultimately develops a bond with three unlikely strangers: Jost the Dutch fat guy who wants to lose weight, Sarah the Canadian who says she wants to stop smoking, and a wild Irish travel writer whose name I can’t remember. It’s kind of like an adult play group. 

I don’t know if I could walk 450 miles carrying a backpack. And I didn’t like the sleeping arrangements — beds lined up in old buildings in dorm fashion (guess I’m more of the B & B type). But mingling with people from different countries while achieving a similar goal is appealing. 

Maybe I should start with a walking tour of English gardens, having my own room, stopping for a proper cup of tea along the way. 

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Like a snowflake…Noam Chomsky

I’ve been reeling from my heavy-duty Noam Chomsky experience: to write or not to write, my responsibility as an educator, my loyalty to the ’60s and my mentor Howard Zinn, the need for more open-mindedness in the world, speaking the truth through knowledge not stereotypes…

Chomsky strode onto the stage at the University of Arizona in his MIT office garb, an old charcoal sweater over professorial trousers not jeans, longish gray hair that was somewhat subdued. He didn’t look like Einstein, although his presence on campus was compared to a hypothetical Einstein visit; that’s how members of the UA linguistics department spoke.

I didn’t understand  much of Chomsky’s talk on linguistics to around 1,500 faculty and students (as advertised) on Wednesday, Feb. 7. A few glimmers emerged: “Language exists only in the sense that that weather exists. It exists,” he said. “Learning modern language is not something a child does. It’s something that happens to him.”

The philosopher/psychologist William James in the late 19th century-early 20th spoke of the newborn infant “all in one great blooming, buzzing confusion.” The way s/he absorbs language has to be intimate, not just in some social context, which is the way animals — or even bacteria, as Chomsky said — communicate. That’s not the same as language.

And even more complex is that acquisition of language is disassociated from other cognitive capacities. Chimps have the same auditory system as humans, said Chomsky, but they don’t take anything out of the “blooming confusion.” Infants do. And for most toddlers, the acquisition of language happens perfectly, according to the laws of nature, like a snowflake.

No need to think too much, if that’s not where you’re at. What I’m marveling at is the extent of Chomsky’s knowledge, and as a history person, how thrilled I was to hear where his theories come from, not just “This is the way it is” or the gibberish that often passes for truth in the public arena today.

This was old school, an 83-year-old world-reknowned intellectual who let us in on what he’s learned for more than 50 years as a student/teacher at MIT.

The UA professor who introduced Chomsky at his Feb. 8 lecture on education  — to more than 3,000 people — said that Chomsky is quoted more than any other living person. The UA prof also opined that Chomsky was the third most quoted smart guy in history after Plato and Freud. How does he know, I question that.

I do know that my brain hasn’t work as hard in a very long time.  I’m grateful for Chomsky’s visit to Tucson, or as one of my high-school students once pronounced, “I’m grated full of information.” Go brain!

Posted in Bopping Around Tucson, Fight wimpiness, For Love of History | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Who’s a V.I.P. anyway?

I don’t mind rich people, I really don’t. It’s the snooty ones that bother me. And a friend reminded this morning that everyone I know is financially rich compared to everyone else in the world.

But sometimes I get confused. Last Friday I went to the Frida Kahlo exhibit opening at the Tucson Museum of Art. Members and media (me) were invited to a reception at 6 p.m., but I arrived around 5:40 p.m.

The museum greeter promptly stuck a VIP sticker on me as I blurted, “I don’t know if I’m a VIP or not.” She asked who I was. “Well, I’m media,” I replied.

“OK, you’re VIP.” The doors to the exhibit hadn’t opened yet. Around 50 fancily dressed people munching on spicy meatballs, chips and guacamole were mingling in the foyer. I was wearing jeans and an oversized sweater. VIPs apparently got free wine, which wasn’t too shabby. I chose Oregon mixed red.

Here’s the strange part: I’m a VIP, I thought to myself. It didn’t matter if I wasn’t dressed as snappily as the others, and damn, even VIPs weren’t allowed into the exhibit early. It was only about seeing and being seen.

These people think I’m one of them. I’m wearing the special black and gold sticker. I’m special.

This is really stupid, I figured, going back and forth in my mind, shocked that I was feeling like a bigwig because of some silly sticker.

Maybe folks who make a hefty million or more annually always feel bigger than the rest of us. I’ve never let fame bother me; I’ll talk to anyone. Maybe the top earners are  clueless, like when Romney said he’d bet $10,000 to a fellow Republican candidate at a recent debate. I’d bet a dollar, maybe five, if I was really sure of something.

After his Florida primary win, Romney said he was concerned about the middle class: “I’m not concerned about the very poor. They have a safety net.”

Meanwhile, we’ve become more and more polarized in American society. NYT columnist David Brooks thinks VIPs and non-VIPs should spend more time together. Most VIPs are probably happy with their lot: Mitt paid 13.9 percent of his income — all from investments — in taxes last year. His father, George Romney, started the tradition of releasing tax returns as a Republican presidential contender in 1967. And his tax rate was a whopping 44 percent.

Yup, I guess supposed VIPs who imagine that really poor people have a safety net are pretty confused, even more than me. They just don’t know it.

And what I really don’t like are when angry Republican candidates thoughtlessly whip up hatred and fear, and don’t mind letting more Americans fall into that ripped safety net.

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Only five weeks till the Tucson Festival of Books!

Proud mama that I am, I’m thrilled that my daughter, Brook Wilensky-Lanford, author of “Paradise Lust: Searching for the Garden of Eden” — a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice — will be coming from back east to participate in “The Best Book Festival Under the Sun” on the University of Arizona campus, Saturday and Sunday, March 10-11.

 
Please mark your calendars:
 
 
Brook’s workshop: “Researching/Writing a True Story with Style,” Saturday, March 10, 1-2 p.m., Integrated Learning Center, Room 137
 
“Eden Seekers” panel, Saturday, March 10, 4-5:30 p.m., Integrated Learning Center, Room 150, moderated by Rabbi Samuel Cohon of Temple Emanu-El
 
Brook Wilensky-Lanford, “Paradise Lust: Searching for the Garden of Eden”
 
Carolyn O’Bagy Davis, “The Fourth Wife: Love, Polygamy & Revolution”
 
Matteo Pistono, “In the Shadow of the Buddha: One Man’s Journey of Discovery in Tibet”
 
For more information, visit brookwilensky-lanford.com and tucsonfestivalofbooks.org. 
 
 
Hope to see you there!
 
Sheila
 
 
Sheila Wilensky
TFOB History/Memoir/Biography Committee
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Go Barack! Thank you Gabby!

Distant, standoffish, that’s how Barack Obama is often described. Not true. He doesn’t bawl or scream but why does that make him unemotional? Did you see the way he hugged Gabby last night before the State of the Union address?

As I keep saying — over and over — Barack is a very decent guy. C’mon, many of you have heard how I walked down the street with him after his electrifying speech at the 2004 Democratic Convention in Boston. He giggled when I asked if he was going to run for president; he hadn’t been elected senator yet.

Nearly eight years later, now president, Barack Obama scored with his third State of the Union address. In a CBS poll released today his proposals got a 91 percent approval rating. Unheard of! Was I totally satisfied with his speech? Absolutely not.

Strangely enough, my favorite part was the ending when the president brilliantly evoked the Navy Seals on their dangerous mission to snuff out Osama bin Laden. Instead of using a patriotism cliche Obama described what it must have been like climbing the stairs in bin Laden’s compound — the dark, the danger, trusting that the guys behind you “had your backs.”

Republicans don’t have the backs of the American people. Campaigning in Florida today, Mitt Romney actually said, “Now, the banks aren’t bad people. They’re scared to death right now like you.” Last time I looked banks are made of concrete and steel; they’re buildings, not people. Who’s cold and distant?

Obama hasn’t screamed, said anything wacky, or called anyone who doesn’t agree with him nasty names. He’s a lot like Gabby, who wrote in her resignation letter, “Always I fought for what I thought was right. But never did I question the character of those with whom I disagreed. Never did I let pass an opportunity to join hands with someone just because he or she held different ideals.”

Then there’s Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer…but that’s a different story. I’d prefer to think of Gabby’s “hope that our government can represent the best of a nation, not the worst.”

I’ll remember Barack and Gabby on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives last night, doing their little hugging dance, both of them smiling — their warmth, kindness and dignity shining through.

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“Out The Window”

Stunned to find a typo in a Donald Hall piece in the New Yorker, I was also stunned to imagine myself really old.  “Out The Window,” a personal history of the former poet laureate’s winter at age 83, reminds me of a pseudo-pact my Mount Desert Island, Maine, women friends made years ago. 

When we get really old, “let’s buy a big house overlooking the ocean that has a spacious veranda (we said porch, but I like “veranda” better),” we said to each other, laughing. This conversation may have taken place over a few glasses of wine at the Claremont boat house on a summer’s evening. 

If we’re left without spouses or partners, it’s the way to go. We’d each have our own room and our own favorite rocking chairs on the porch to spend hours looking out at the ocean. Mostly, we would be quiet. And maybe Kate would say, “Remember that brick-colored corduroy jumper three or four of us borrowed during our pregnancies?”

“Ayuh,” one of us would say, nodding. Again, silence. 

“When I lament and darken over my diminishments, I accomplish nothing,” writes Hall, a fellow New Englander. “It’s better to sit at the window all day, pleased to watch birds, barns, and flowers.”

Watching the ocean, with all its movement and changes, would be more stimulating  for me. I’m not a poet. I’ve always liked to watch ideas playing out on my mind’s movie screen. 

Maybe I’ll just quietly appreciate how soothing the sea can be. Nowadays, when I visit with my children I gaze at their beautiful faces. I wonder — imagining the old Donald Hall sitting by his New Hampshire window — will seeing become more meaningful than blurting as I grow older, too?

 

Posted in Baby Boomers, Family Matters, Mount Desert Island/Maine | Tagged , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Another Tempest in Arizona

My East Coast friends often ask how I can live in Arizona. Good question. Sunshine helps a lot. Here’s the latest controversy — ethnic studies/book censorship. In the wake of this uproar there’s actually a Tucson Republican lawmaker who wants to allow the Bible to be taught as an elective in high school. “State Rep. Terri Proud said that the concept is gaining support among her colleagues in the House.”

Well, yeah, these are the folks who brought us SB 1070 and a bill to allow weapons on college campuses, which thankfully, even Gov. Jan Brewer had the foresight to veto. These are the folks who saw fit to make Arizona proud by naming a state gun — even after the shooting rampage in Tucson last Jan. 8 — while slashing funds for mental health services.

Tucson is different than the rest of Arizona, I tell my East Coast friends. John Pedicone, Tucson Unified School District’s superintendent says legislation to allow a Bible elective “strikes him as an unnecessary bill.” Democratic Rep. Steve Farley opined that maybe students should have “some fundamental knowledge of the Quran as well.” Proud responded that the Quran “hasn’t influenced Western culture the way the Bible has.” Yesterday’s Arizona Daily Star’s editorial made the case for real legislative concerns.

Shutting down TUSD’s ethnic studies program came from state government. Education was in the local domain last time I checked. But so-called conservatives in Phoenix stuck their nose into Tucson’s business. Aren’t conservatives supposed to be about limiting the long arm of government, or does that only apply to what they don’t like?

When have students protested en masse when a course has been taken away? They did for the TUSD ethnic studies program. Education is always about wheeling a “little pushcart” into the classroom, “offering my wares along with the others, leaving students to make their own choices,” as the late historian Howard Zinn wrote in his autobiography, “You Can’t Be Neutral on a Moving Train.” (I’ve probably used this quote before; I’m glad to repeat it).

Education is not about imposing — or disallowing — ideas in the classroom. And that should be true for the Bible or Quran, which are already included in the study of religious systems in European History classes.

Why are options, different perspectives and ideas so scary? What are people so afraid of in Phoenix, or for that matter, everywhere?

Posted in Bopping Around Tucson, Fight wimpiness, politics | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Empathy is the key: Obama will win

Give the prez a second term! I contend there may be a silver lining in his numerous attempts at compromise. If we look closely enough he’s a guy who can empathize. He doesn’t have the stomach for the mean-spirited politics thrown his way, much of it growling racism. And now the Republican presidential candidates are eating their young. They’ve been so mean for so long that they can’t help savaging each other.

Mitt Romney is slipping and sliding all over the place in addition to extreme flip-flopping. What, Mitt’s been afraid of getting a pink slip? Enjoys firing people who provide services but don’t live up to his standards? Does he promise to never again strap his dog to the family car on a vacation trip to Canada? He can’t even empathize with his dog, let alone understand the pain of a real working person who can’t find a job. Pink slip, my ass.

Remember when former Texas Gov. Ann Richards quipped that George Bush the first was born with a silver spoon in his mouth? That’s no less true for Mitt.

Last night, I listened to his New Hampshire primary victory speech for a few minutes, but turned it off as soon as he started blabbing about Obama’s “failed presidency.” Here’s an appropriate retort for Democrats: how about the failed Republican Congress with its approval rating of 9 percent?

If you can’t take the serious stuff, check out the Borowitz Report, which will definitely keep me laughing during this election year:

JANUARY 11, 2012

Romney Vows to Undo Everything Obama Has Done: ‘I Will Make Bin Laden Alive Again’

Calls Slain al-Qaeda Leader a Job Creator

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Houston is so big and the world is so small

Sitting across from my 31-year-old son in Agora, his local coffee shop in the hip Montrose section of Houston, sipping Texas country pecan coffee, all is right with the world. At least in this little part of Houston. It’s my first time here. I’ll be back, not only to visit Ethan as he pursues his Ph.D. in cultural anthropology at Rice, but for the fantastic restaurants, free art museums and the Robin’s Nest Bed and Breakfast where I’m staying.

On Thursday, my first day in town, we drove down to Brazos Bend State Park, home to hundreds of alligators, from a five-month-old baby under a foot long to a humungous immoveable gator lounging in the lake.  Ethan hasn’t gotten around the city much since his arrival in August, and he also wanted to explore natural places outside of town. I was game. We walked six or seven miles around the park, marveling at the prehistoric-looking creatures.

Although alligators reminded me that life has existed on this planet for thousands of years, last night at the Poison Girl bar showed me how small Earth is. Sitting around the table drinking to Ethan’s birthday were his new grad school friends from Turkey; Columbia; Orange County, Calif.; Amherst, Mass., China, and one Texan.

Sharon, who gave herself an American name when she arrived in Houston from a small city near Shanghai, wanted to see where we were from in Maine. She patted me on the back and pointed to Mt. Desert Island on her iPhone. “Where on the island is your house?” she asked in perfect English.

All the world’s a stage for curious, ambitious young folks. I so enjoyed talking with Ethan’s Turkish friends about scary terms like “terrorist” tossed about by the powerful in all countries to scare the populace, keep them under control. The “word” in the United States used to be “communist.” There’s always a word, but the way to break the “word” down into reality is to exchange more words with others. I love that.

When I was in college the choices for a semester abroad were London or Paris, neither of which I could afford at the time. And I was afraid to leave my U.S. cocoon. Breaking down borders through travel, technology and study can only help our beleaguered world. Even at my — ahem — advanced age I want to get out there.

Posted in The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments