Washing Dishes by Hand

I've always hated washing dishes. When I was a kid and it was my turn to do the dishes, I would often hide a couple of the grimier dishes so I didn't have to wash them. When I was fifteen, I got a job washing dishes at a restaurant. I came home at night feeling greasy, feeling coated in chunks of half-eaten food. I lasted three days as a professional dishwasher, and then I quit.

But one time when I was in my early twenties and was home visiting my parents, I had a sort of breakthrough with dish washing. It was late at night and I was washing the dinner dishes alone in the kitchen while listening to Tracy Chapman; my hands worked mindlessly in the warm, slippery water. And then, suddenly, I felt alive, elated almost. I wanted to sing. It sort of felt spiritual; I wanted to pray. I also got the urge to go wandering. So, when I finished the dishes, I walked outside and wandered in the darkness around the little southwestern Colorado village. I ended up at the small park at the center of town and there, looking up at pinpoint explosions of light in the blackness, I followed my urge and chanted energetically at God. When I returned home, I felt refreshed.

Since then, I have experienced a few other transcendent moments while washing the dishes. Tonight, for example, while I was washing dishes in our silent house, everyone else having gone to bed, I realized again that washing dishes isn't so bad. That was my first realization.

The other realization that came to me as I cleansed plates and cups is one I've had many times before, but it was particularly clear to me tonight: Everyone feels misunderstood. Virtually everyone feels, on a regular basis, left out, overlooked, insecure, victimized, unloved, passed over. And this includes those who seem to be on the inside. They may even envy those who envy them. Or maybe they don't notice the enviers at all. But they don't feel understood. Nobody feels understood, but most people forget this and feel alone in their isolation and wonder Why Me?

Mine was not an original thought--many people have reached this same conclusion--but in that moment it felt an important realization and I was glad to have thought it, glad to have experienced the flow of thought, the thrill of connecting conceptions, the satisfaction of epiphany. Something about doing dishes opened my mind to contemplation, and I thought; the result of this thinking wasn't life-altering, but I was glad for the exercise.

I think part of what can make dish washing an enlightening experience is the process: through simple, cyclical, repetitive motions, I am accomplishing something, cleansing kitchen implements, making attractive that which was moments before unappealing. But more than anything, I think, it is the texture, the feel of things that causes the thoughts, like stones in tilled earth, to rise to the surface. The smooth, rounded handle of the Pyrex measuring cup, slick with suds. The stick-slide-stick-slide-stick chatter of my fingers across the wet glass casserole dish. The sloping descent of the warm red rag over the fork tines. The efficient swoop of the rag over the belly of a cream-colored bowl whose surface, like that of an egg shell, is not quite smooth. The continual re-warming of my air-cooled hands (re-inserting my hands into the water feels each time like a discovery). The almost imperceptible vibrations as my fingernails pass over the thin stainless steel salad bowls, creating a sound that is almost unsettling but at the same time clarion. This sound vibrates up my fingers and settles in the underside of my wrist.



Somehow these textures create a sort of tactile music that mixes with the motions of the task to create a meditative space, and in this space, I can think. It's not that I look forward to doing the dishes now. I don't. But the next time I do them, there will likely come a moment, when I'm about half-way done, during which I will feel enlivened, and my mind will be glad that I've decided to immerse my hands in warm, slippery water.

Books and Year

This past year, I read perhaps more pages than during any other year in my life. It's not that I read all that many books; it's that many of the books I read were long. Most of these books, I'm a little ashamed to admit, weren't very intellectual. In fact, the bulk of my reading consisted of fantasy fiction books: long, drawn out tales of men and women involved in epic struggles in a reality that includes magic and fantastic creatures. These accounted for about 7,000 of the roughly 9,000 pages I read this year, and I'm not going to waste any more words on these fantasy books except to say that it was, for the most part, enjoyable and fun to read them. However, they almost never inspired me, awed me, or caused me to contemplate. But a few other books did.

The Backslider, by Levi Peterson
fascinated me. This novel, set in rural southern Utah in the 1950s, is about a sometimes wayward Mormon boy who struggles with faith and sexuality. The novel has wide emotional undulations--often it is hilariously funny, at other times somber, and other times, it is tragic. This book is not for the Mormon faint of heart. It is no Gerald Lund rip-off. The book is quite irreverent. One of the many humorous scenes described in the book is of the main character, Frank, and his brother, Jeremy, wrestling the reluctant family dog into a creek so they can baptize him. The main character often views God as a pleasure-killing, vengeful master, and the Holy Ghost as an entity best avoided (he might tell you not to do something fun; or he might tell you to do something unpleasant). The book also includes a fair amount of swearing, several descriptions of sexual encounters, and frank discussions about masturbation.

The Backslider drags out from the closet some Mormon-specific skeletons--polygamy; blood atonement; and varying interpretations of the Word of Wisdom--but many of the conflicts are more broadly defined within the context of Christianity. For example, Frank's view of God seems mostly informed by the images of an angry, frightening Old Testament God, unreconciled with the much more personable Jesus of the New Testament. When Frank touches fossils in rock, he wonders how old the earth really is, and, if the earth is only a few thousand years old, why God would want to trick us with so many misleading clues, such as dinosaur bones and fossils. Frank vacillates between monastic self-denial and indulgences of the flesh. Guilt, repentance, and sin appear throughout the book.

The thing I found most refreshing about the book was its honesty. It asks aloud many of the questions people are afraid to utter. At times, however, the book tips past honesty into absurdity, as with the times when various characters get themselves so tied up in guilt, self-denial, and asceticism that they do things to themselves that seem implausible. Another thing that slightly disappointed me was the conversion to Mormonism that one of the main characters undergoes at the end of the book (converting to the faith has become a cliche that Mormons seem reluctant to leave out of most stories). However, the conversion is handled so artfully, in such a unique series of events, that I quickly forgave the author for turning the book in that direction. In fact, the most important conversion (not to any religion, per se, but to Jesus/God as a loving, empathetic, easy-going guy) , the one that comes to Frank at a vital moment near the end of the novel, is mildly shocking and not at all what a seminary graduate would expect to encounter in a conversion story.

Overall, The Backslider is a well-constructed novel that caused me to reflect upon the human condition, the nature of God, the place of pleasure in life, the necessity of love, and the struggle to make meaning out of chaos.


I'll save for a future post my thougths of the three other books I've recently read: Straight Man; In Cold Blood; and Anna Karinena.

By the way, I just realized that all of the books I've read this year have been written by male authors. I'd like to make the next book I read one written by a woman. Recommendations?

Ferris Bueller's Teacher

I just came across the following quote of Ferris Bueller's economics teacher. It brought back a lot of memories and associations with mid-adolescent emotions. Here is the quote:

"In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the... Anyone? Anyone?... the Great Depression, passed the... Anyone? Anyone? The tariff bill? The Hawley-Smoot Tariff Act? Which, anyone? Raised or lowered?... raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue for the federal government. Did it work? Anyone? Anyone know the effects? It did not work, and the United States sank deeper into the Great Depression. Today we have a similar debate over this. Anyone know what this is? Class? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone seen this before? The Laffer Curve. Anyone know what this says? It says that at this point on the revenue curve, you will get exactly the same amount of revenue as at this point. This is very controversial. Does anyone know what Vice President Bush called this in 1980? Anyone? Something-d-o-o economics. 'Voodoo' economics."

But besides calling up mid-teenage anxieties, it also made me realize with mild horror that I've sort of become that guy. Today in class, I was leading a discussion on George Orwell's essay, "Shooting an Elephant." The essay, published in 1936 takes place in Burma (Myanmar), which was then controlled by the British as part of their extensive empire. I wanted to bring present-day relevance to the essay. The (mostly one-sided) discussion went something like this:

"Does anyone know what Burma calls itself today? (long awkward silence) Myanmar. What news in the last year has been associated with Myanmar? No one? Buddhist monks? Protests? Anyone? Hmmm. (Brief explanation of the protests for civil rights and against human rights violations) What other recent events has Myanmar been in the news for? (long awkward silence) Cyclone? Anyone know what I'm talking about? Tens of thousands of people dead? International help refused? Any of this familiar? U.S. Navy ships just sitting there with unused supplies? An international debate about violating a country's sovereignty to help its citizens? Nobody knows what I'm talking about? Well, let's get back to the essay. Why was Orwell, a British Imperial Police officer, in Burma in the late 1920's? Anyone?"

I wonder if my students were just hearing that Waa, Wa, Wa, Wa, Waa, Waa sound that Charlie Brown hears when adults speak to him. I hope I don't get to the point where, for the whole hour, I just turn my back to them while I write on the board and drone on about some uninteresting subject.

Inheritance Scam Spam

So, the Inheritance Scam E-mail is unlike most other spam in that, when you write it, you don't pressure and guilt your audience into forwarding it to everyone. You want your audience to think that she or he alone has received this rather remarkable offer. Your goal in this E-mail is not to bounce your E-mail around the globe forever; instead the purpose is to get the recipients of the message to give you money, and lots of it.

To get your reader to give you money, you need to convince her or him that you, in fact, want to give him or her a lot of money. Convince your reader that you are linked to an important person, someone she or he may have heard of in the news. Be sure, however, that your own invented identity is not someone she or he would be familiar with. Your scheme for how to actually get the money from the poor sap is up to you (arrange a meeting in Amsterdam; send a fake money order, etc.); the purpose of this communication is to teach you how to hook your readers and convince them to take the next step, whatever that might be.

Here are some tips:
Always originate your story in another country. Americans often assume that their country is the only stable one and will therefore not be surprised when you write that recently, when the Brazilian (or Ugandan, German, Chinese, Australian, etc.) government collapsed, you escaped with millions of dollars.

Come up with any reason why you need this person's help in liquidating the money. It doesn't need to be a rational reason. Make something up.

Instead of just writing $ or "dollars" when discussing the money, always refer to it as U.S. Dollars or USD. This will demonstrate that you are an international, metropolitan person, someone people can trust.

Make lots of grammatical, spelling, and wording errors. This will make your audience connect with you, will make them think, "Gee whiz, this is someone I could go bowling with, someone I could drink a beer with." Americans value feeling this way about people and will believe you if you awaken such emotions in them.

Lastly, address your E-mail so that it sounds as if it was sent specifically to this one recipient so that the recipient thinks he or she has been specially chosen for this important task; also, include as your contact E-mail address one that includes the name of organization you are claiming to represent, but has as its domain name some common E-mail service (example: OfficialDeutcheBankRepresentative@hotmail.com).

So, here is a brief example. As always, feel free to expand on this. Oh, and 12% of all US Dollars made using this method will need to be sent to me.


Dear Sur/Mam,

Allow me introduce myself. I am Honorable Hanz Werner Magnus from Norway, and am need your help. Recently my oder brother, Crown Prince Haakon of the Emaculate Kingdom Norway, tried cheat me out my inheritence. A snivelly thing this was to do to me and so there for I took my inheritence and sneaked out of the country by way of Sweden.

This inheritance is 47 million US Dollars. I can assure you that I have always said money on my person always. As an onorable member of the royal famly I am embarrased to have to ask such a thing of you, but I need help getting said USD into a useable state. You see, I am hiding in barn in Sweden. Luckily, no one has recognized me. No one knew about me because every person talked only on my brother, not me, so I can remain hidden.

I am willing to offer you, kind sir/Madam (and I make this offer to no one else; I have been told you are unique and trustworthy), 25% of my 42 million USD if you will help me get to the U.S.A. where I will be safe from my brother. Here is what you have to do. Send me 10 thousand USD so that I can come by a plain ticket and a fake passport. As a measure of my good will toward you, I will immediately, upone receive your 10 thousand USD, send you a real money order for 12 thousand USD. When I get to the U.SA, I will give you the remainder of promised 25% of my ineritance: 37 million USD.

Please hurry. I need help. My brother soon will discovery my were bouts. You will be richly rewarded. Send me the 10 thousand USD soon before I am caught and you will be rich man/woman.

Contact me very soon at my email address: OfficialPrinceNorway@gmail.com.

Many cind thanks,

The Onorable Prince Werner--Norway.



Remember to be kind yet firm, approachable yet authoritative, vulnerable but not pitiful. But above all, be convincing!