20150925.0626

Last year at about this time, I made some comments about the already-approaching "Christmas" season, comments spurred by the coincidence of the day being three months away (in the not entirely accurate calendar that has nonetheless been used for entirely too long, as well as in other assertions*) and seeing decorations for it already up in such stores as have the space for them. The comments hold true even now; I do not know if I should celebrate the holiday as it is commonly celebrated, even if this year will be a year that sees my wife and I visit family for it (and my mother has suggested extravagance on her part for it, given other circumstances). I do not know that I want to tell her the lies that attend on the "for the children" parts of the holiday--and I am amazed that there are people who tell me that I should lie to my daughter. (The implications are stunning. If it is okay for me to lie to Ms. 8, whom I love, then why would it not be okay for me to lie to others whom I like much less? Yet that is clearly not to the good; why, then, would I treat with more respect and greater care someone whom I like less than my daughter, and whom I love not at all? And why would I be encouraged to lie in any event? Or she to accept lies?)

Now, as then, I am not sure what to do with this idea (although I am surprised to have it pop up in successive years). I am sure, however, that work continues. (I have to say it daily, do I not?). I am in the classroom again today, and the students are set to turn in a second version of their second paper. (Guess what I get to do this weekend.) I also received a freelance order, which may prove somewhat problematic; I am expected to do my usual 5,000-word write-up on a novel a scanty 215 pages in length. I suppose my critical faculties will get something of a workout; I will have to stretch things a bit to make the word-count against what I expect to be a thin volume of little fiber. That is, I think there will not be much in the text for me to write about in the way that I prefer to write about things. But I suppose that is inappropriately elitist of me, inappropriately condemnatory of something that will earn me another hundred dollars or so to enrich my household. The freelance work is a good bit of side-money, and Sherwood Cottage and its indwellers can use all of that they can get. I could wish I had had a bit more time to attend to the research I had hoped to treat yesterday after getting my grading done, though. I will find a way, to be sure; I have, still, no other option than to do so.

*The links provided are accessible, easy-to-find sources. There are others and better, but they are not so easily reached from where I am or where I expect people will be when they are reading what I write in this webspace. Audience and context matter, as I try to teach my students.