A Couple of Books

Many times, the older selections in the UT library are hilarious in their archaic nature, reading predictions about global oil shortages from the 50s and the global economic forecast. (It was pretty gloom-and-doom then too, at least for the author.)

However, there's a treasure trove of things to laugh at and puzzle over in Mamaw's basement. The rows of books that mostly go unlooked in favor of the games drew my eye this evening. Two books caught my eye.

So You Think God Doesn't Exist. Written by someone who thanked Billy Graham in the acknowledgements, this was a skinny book that tried to assert God's existence. I generally take issue with the methods of "proof" that he used, ones that I've occasionally guiltily used in literature papers and haven't gotten away with.

Just because the planet is in a good rotation, orbit, with a sun the right temperature and so on doesn't mean that these circumstances exist because God made it so for us here, and nowhere else. Such conceit!

By the causation that we can perceive, we are born from our environment and adapt to it to such a degree that we can, through technology, create temporary zones of independence from it, with walls and A/C. The environment may or may not have been made for us, but by the mechanics we can comprehend, such a question is unanswerable definitively. Though the pre-existence of the environment (or the material precursors) could be God (or gods), it could be any number of things we cannot conceive of. We assume the universe is ordered on our rating of intelligence and the power to affect events when we conceive of all-powerful beings. While we show some proficiency with the material facts of the universe, speaking with any sureness on the nonmaterial, enough to offer only one possible solution without acknowledging any others, is a way of going about things that would instantly scream confirmation bias. Which is fine, but it should be acknowledged with the humility of a Milton or a Donne, who were wise enough to believe even as they confronted the doubt that cannot be disproved, only filled with faith. Any scientific argument for belief tries to fill the faith with a doubt-ridden draught. At some point, faith, with only vague origin, must supply the excess.

Of course, they were concilliatory about evolution and creationism. They acknowledged the difference in the questions they asked (what v. why), and even wished that creationists wouldn't attack evolution. That wins points from me.

The Amy Vanderbilt Complete Book of Etiquette. This is a trip. A 27 year old trip, by last revision. I will give a few quotes.

About when dating first occurs to boys: "The first sign, of course, is cleanliness. He will suddenly begin bathing without reminders... (other things)... Of course, none of these things may happen - but if they do, you are lucky parents." Needless to say, Scott hasn't entered this stage yet.

A little later, it discussed the etiquette of taking someone out. If any reference were made to a boy paying, it was assumed that they would, with a girl bringing along 'mad money' just in case he is short a bit. But can girls pay? "Even if the parents are not along, if a girl invites a boy to the theater or a sports event she should pay not only for the tickets but also for the bus or taxi, the soda and hot dogs consumed, and any other expenses." It seems... condescending. A guy will know to pay for these things, but a girl has to be reminded of the little details. Of course there were reasons for it; women paying for a date happened more recently, so there were still questions about the guy's role in such an affair. "She may wish to give her date a sum of money from which he can pay for things as they go along, if he would be embarrassed to have her pay directly." (My emphasis.) Pride does silly things.

A little later, it had a whole section on acceptable drug use, which included tobacco, alcohol, aspirin, and something else (as long as they're not all at once). Then came this title: "Marijuana and Hashish: Marginally Socially Acceptable." They were illegal but popular, so the author approached this tender issue with resigned reproach.

One last thing was in the treatment of women in the workplace, another relatively recent phenomenon. One title was "The Use of Ms." After discussing it briefly the author explains its advantage. "One does not have to research whether the woman one is addressing is married or not." Which is convenient, because many times, this kind of information isn't relevant in a workplace.

Of course, this gesture to the women's movement was followed by conservatism in letter writing. "Correspondence really should have a Mr., Mrs., or Ms. in front of names." Finally they allow for a semi-intimate letter to a friend to have a 'Dear Lucille Ball,' but only lovers and bosom buddies are allowed the coveted 'Dear Lucy.'

And now to go on a digression.

Ms.

I was confused by this title as a child. Teachers would always introduce themselves, and some would use this and some would use Mrs.. And some others would use Miss. Even after I learned that Mrs. means married, I was still confused. Why Miss and Ms.? It turns out that one is not just the shortened version of the other, and the history is delightful.

Ms. used to be a shortening of "Mistress," which is the married woman, back in the 1700s. (Several plays I read this semester had to put an asterix next to some titles in the Cast of Characters to indicate that the person was indeed married. Restoration comedy is particularly concerned with marriage.)

And then it got taken up in the sixties as an alternative to Mrs. and Miss, mutually exclusive because a person cannot be at once married and not married. This Ms. would become the complement of Mr., which is also irreverent to such distinctions. This was a better alternative than mistress anyhow, which now has connotations of debauchery.

I try to use whatever anyone is comfortable with, but I normally default to Ms. if no one shows a clear preference. And of course this is more operative in written language; Ms. and Miss have no real difference when spoken, unless one is said breathlessly and the other one like a parseltongue. (Missssssssssssssssssssssssss.)