Serene

40 years is long when it’s not spent well. 90+ is short, when it is. Or 78. Walter, once more:

“In journalism, we recognize a kind of hierarchy of fame among the famous. We measure it in two ways: by the length of an obituary and by how far in advance it is prepared. The news services and some newspapers and TV networks often have standing libraries of some obituaries. The subjects are usually older, and often ailing.”

Frank McCourt‘s obit was probably not in the can, though apparently he’d been ailing for awhile. He was a wonderful writer, but did not allow himself to discover that until relatively late in life when Angela’s Ashes was hugely successful. It was published in 1996, when he was already 66 years old.  Student testimonials suggest that he may have been an even better teacher than writer, so maybe I shouldn’t feel bad for him that he didn’t write that memoir decades earlier and get himself out of the New York public school system. But I’ll bet he wishes he had.

Regrets or not, he (like Walter) exuded a serene comfort in his own skin and an at-homeness in the world. Was it native or acquired?

“Frank’s serenity may have come from the fact he’s surrounded by and had lived through so much that would be upsetting to serenity. There was a willful calm and happiness. I think people can decide to be happy.”

We can at least decide to try.

epistemology

It’s a chilly morning, I actually debated coming out to greet the sun. But not heatedly. That’s what long sleeves are for. *** Younger Daughter is having a reunion sleepover with her best friend since kindergarten, who moved away to Cleveland. And at around midnight, she had her usual pangs of homesickness and called to tell us so. Growth opportunity for us all. *** Walter Cronkite died, I see. He’s the short answer to all those kooky Moon Hoaxers: Uncle Walter wouldn’t have lied.

***

So, what’s wrong with epistemology, the systematic study of what we can know and how we can know it? Some of my best friends are epistemologists, and they do good work. Nothing wrong with them.

The fact is, most of my prejudice probably stems from an unexamined reaction to the personal demeanor of one epistemologist in particular, a sallow and stoic fellow with a constant smirking expression, who knew nothing of pop culture or sports or my  version of “the real world.”  I thought he sucked the life out of every question he addressed.

Then, I got to know him a little better and realized for real what philosophers are supposed to know implicitly: appearances can’t be trusted, ad hominem observations bake no bread . He was a nice guy. He’s gone on to do great work in the field.

If epistemology can help correct such leaps of ignorant presumption then I should embrace it wholeheartedly.

But it wasn’t the systematic study of knowledge that overturned my false belief about my peer, it was experience.

OK, experience plus reflection. We need both.

If epistemology can be practiced without detaching knowledge from the rest of life, without reducing philosophy to an impersonal, uncompelling set of conceptual problems about the conditions of “justified true belief,” without failing to connect the dots between those beliefs  and the totality of our experience, then I’ll withdraw my objections.