Friday, October 27, 2023

New Book Review: My Billionaire Boss Gives Me Butterflies

Title: My Billionaire Boss Gives Me Butterflies 

Author: Lacie Kendall

Date: 2023

Publisher: Branmar

ISBN: 978-0-9792762-1-3

Quote: "I still see the Caden who made my heart flutter all those years ago."

It's a sweet second-chance romance. You know how those go. It's like skipping to the last bit of a longer, traditional-style romance. They already know each other, have already become good friends or even a couple and already had the big quarrel. All that remains is the reconciliation. If they weren't going to be reconciled, kiss, make up, and marry each other the story wouldn't be called a sweet second-chance romance. It's the nuances of dialogue that show the characters' development (and recall the joy of making peace with our own loved ones) that make these stories worth reading. Well, in this book they work.

One of the pleasures of this sample of the sweet second-chance romance story is that, although she's a yuppie and he's a billionaire, neither of them has always been rich so they're still nice down-to-earth people, easy for the non-wealthy reader to relate to. Caden has been married to someone else, and is now widowed with adorable twins. Alesha has been working to help her sister cope with sickle cell anemia. Part of the plot involves their rescuing a dog, and part involves Alesha bonding with the twins. 

Though it's about full-grown adults, or maybe because the characters are adults, the romance is so wholesome you could share this story with children. They might think there ought to have been more about the twins but they'll love it when Alesha gets a chance to be oh just awfully nice to the mean girl who almost ruined her romance with Caden, twice. 

What's not to like? Though both Caden and Alesha say, on different pages, that they "give each other butterflies," all they have in mind is the cliche. What? No butterfly-printed trinkets from Zazzle?

Bad Poetry: Dia de los Muertos

Another two-prompt poem: the prompt at DVerse was to write an antiwar poem, and the prompt at Poets & Storytellers United was to write a poem for el Dia de los Muertos. 

A day to pray for all the dead
is needed in a year of war.
So many lives untimely fled,
so many living hearts left sore:
a day to pray for all the dead
is not enough. It will take more.
So much blood's been untimely shed--
a fool in desert drought might poor
fresh water on dust bare and red:
that's much less wasteful than a war.
A day to pray for all the dead
is needed in a year of war.

It's Bad all right. El Dia de los Muertos has a sort of festive quality. People remember the dead, fondly, respectfully; they reflect on mortality and the brevity of life, and try to make the day "sweet," in some places literally, sucking on skull-shaped candies; they pray that the dead can find peace and pardon in the afterlife. I understand the idea of praying for those killed in a war, but I couldn't imagine a way to make it festive.

Thursday, October 26, 2023

Web Log for 10.25.23

Some nice links came in yesterday...

Animals 

Local lurkers: This dog just recently celebrated his tenth birthday. Though bred to be a hunting dog he's said to be more of a lap dog, a rather jealous cuddler who does not want to share his humans with other pets. Well, obviously he's not for me, although I received an e-mail about him. Therefore he must be for you, or someone you know, who might not want to make a longer-term commitment to a younger dog. He's described as well trained, housebroken, polite and friendly, and he answers to the name of "Gucci."

The hacking continues. I didn't want to link to SARK's alleged blog posts, in Russian, about casinos, but...what Scalzi says. I have noticed that the extra page views from Singapore stopped, finally, to be replaced within the week by page views showing as "Other." 


Ministry of Encouragement 

Nonviolent political prisoner vows to use 60 days in Oakdale to improve himself. He's a writer, so he's not rich. His family will miss his income. Encourage an independent reporter who was in the wrong place by following the instructions at


Phenology 

When I was growing up my front yard was dominated by a big Norway Maple tree. 


Mother reported it was dying and dangerous, and she was having it cut down, some time between 2000 and 2005. It was only about fifty years old. Did someone help it die? I saw someone from what's left of the Professional Bad Neighbor's family spraying glyphosate on the hedge below where the maple tree used to be, yesterday afternoon. I couldn't see the person through the hedge, but could recognize the vehicle. So of course, although there are Band-Aid-type home remedies for glyphosate poisoning and I've used them, I am sick today. I've been deliberately made sick. Deliberate poisoning of human beings is legal in the United States, although nobody has claimed any "right to spray" poison on other people's property, and this poison was definitely sprayed on my property. In broad daylight. I don't think the person knew I was at home.

Anyway, the professional-quality image of a Norway Maple, new young leaves turning bright red and leaves on older growth turning bright yellow, came from Barkley's Human, who has some more books out by now, about humans

Norway Maples are considered invasive these days. Red Maples are cooler. You can tap any maple tree, even a box elder (if they grew big enough to support or fill a sap bucket, which they don't), and get sap that will boil down to Real Maple Syrup. Sugar Maples are only a little sweeter; you have to boil out about 39 gallons of water to arrive :at a pint of syrup. The difference between making maple syrup in Vermont or Canada, and making it further south, is that the sap rises earlier in warmer climates. We used to tap a tree in January and, sure enough, the sap would start to run during the January Thaw, then stop. In Virginia maple syrup is best made during the February Thaw.






New Book Review: Grumpy Billionaire Cowboy

Title: Grumpy Billionaire Cowboy 

Author: Willow Finn

Date: 2023

Publisher: Willow Finn

Quote: "Did he really not remember? We'd been such good friends, but I hadn't heard from him since I left."

It's a series. There are four Delaney brothers--all superficially grumpy, only because they're shy and serious underneath, handsome, mature, doing "exciting" manly jobs, sulking around the world because the women they've fallen in love with have not married them yet and they're afraid to do anything like, y'know, write or call to ask what happened. In this volume the first brother, actually not a cowboy but a stableman, has never recovered from the fact that Zoe, who was just a good friend, took a better-paid job in the city instead of staying in the small town where they met. Oh, and they all have biblical names--this one answers to "Zeke." 

Zeke and Zoe. The easiest way to keep track of which romance novels you've already read is the characters' names...

Anyway this is a short, sweet, wholesome romance in which nobody mentions religion but the names tell us where the characters got their moral values. They're old hometown friends, they're old enough to know their own minds, the suspense lies in finding out exactly how they'll be reconciled, and then they will kiss and then they will be planning their lives together. If you're in the mood to read about ways people have made peace after lovers' quarrels, this one's as good as any. I'm not sure I believe that an old hometown friend would not have known Zeke's family were rich, but I can believe that the way they get back onto speaking terms might conceivably have worked for some couple, somewhere.

If you like the idea of a Navy SEAL from Texas washed up on the Carolina coast, Grumpy Billionaire Cowboy is for you. 

Wal-Mart, What's Wrong with These Peas?

Dear Wal-Mart,

The subject at hand is a can of peas that was purchased, by someone who was driving that way and volunteered to pick up "the heavy stuff" at a Wal-Mart...I don't know which one, but I'm guessing it was in Kingsport, Tennessee, on Saturday, 10.21.23. 

The label says these are "Sweet Peas." Well, they weren't the black-eyed kind or the split kind. Considering their flavor, "green peas" would have been more appropriate.

The label goes on: "No Salt Added." I should have warned person to beware of "No Salt Added" cans of anything; they're subject to spoilage. "Ingredients: peas, water. Product of Spain. 0 78742 35875 8" (below the bar code), and "070315" (above the bar code). The label also claims that the peas are "Gluten Free," which they certainly ought to be if the cans contian only peas and water.

But who knows. It seems that food manufacturers want to subvert the whole purpose of food labelling. They don't want labels that accurately inform people about what's inside. A solid majority of people who eat food want to know whether they're eating a normal, natural food as opposed to some sort of genetic experiment on food. They might be willing to try GMO food, but they want to know which genetic modification they're eating and why. 

(Well, actually, after years of bleeding ulcers from "Roundup-Ready" vegetables, some people wouldn't want to try any more genetic modifications, and can they be blamed? But clearly identifying different modifications might reduce the losses of sales caused by all that not-so-safe-as-the-manufacturer-claimed glyphosate that was sneaked into our food supply by "Roundup Ready" plants, all produce of which ought by now to have been rounded up and burned.) 

The contents of this can were not natural peas. They were not just natural peas that might have been on the firm side because they were picked green and not cooked enough to be safely canned, although they had that sort of feeling in the mouth. They were not just brackish-tasting from having grown near the ocean. They were not just natural peas that had somehow also failed to become sweet because they didn't get much sunshine, either. Fruits and vegetables that didn't get enough sunshine have a flabby, watery consistency from exposure to too much rain. That's natural, and easily fixed with a sprinkle of salt or sugar. But these pea-like objects were bitter. Not a level of bitterness that salt would cover up, either. Bitter enough that they didn't taste like peas at all, and hard enough that they didn't feel like sweet green peas in the mouth.

What kind of GMO (and/or novel pathogenic contaminant] was in this can of peas, Wal-Mart?

We need tighter food labelling laws, Wal-Mart, but Wal-Mart is big enough to make them policies that would work for a lot of people:

If you plant GMO crops, the labels need clearly to identify the specific name of the GMO as shown on its patent. 

If you spray anything other than water on plants after the edible parts appear, the label needs to include that chemical as an ingredient.

If you pick food crops green and spray chemicals on them as "ripening agents," you need to be forcibly fed a liter of those chemicals. On television. 

From tasting these peas I can feel blisters forming on the roof of my mouth, as I type. I can feel my tongue swelling. 

You need to pull these peas off the shelves, Wal-Mart. You need to dump them back on the farm from whence they came. Call the filthy excuse for a farmer out on his front steps, yell "Eh tu! Con que intentaste matar a la gente norteamericana?" while the driver is backing the truck up to where he is standing, and then start dumping cans of peas, and the more of them hit his feet, the better. Keep him hopping. And then make him sign for receipt of a summons to court where you're suing him for selling this toxic waste as peas. And make sure he can never sell any kind of food crop again, in any market, and has to sell the farm. 

With all we know about how "pesticides" systematically breed bigger, more aggressive nuisance species while also making people ill, any farmer who's not out in the fields, rain or shine as long as lightning is not flashing, hand-picking nuisance species off unsprayed fields, deserves to lose per farm!

The whole world needs to pull a 180 on this whole business of chemical-dependent farming. Instead of letting the chemical companies compete to see how many different chemicals they can sell to farmersd, we need to have people telling farmers that their best course of action is to take the loss from going chemical-free now. Yes, the transition to really organic farming costs money. Yes, Wal-Mart will have to accept smaller amounts of produce from each farmer. The sooner we do it the sooner it's done, and the sooner the farmers take a year or two of losses, the sooner they can hope for profits again.

Wal-Mart is in a position to tell the farmers, "Hello? Smart farmers like Wendell Berry and George Peters were chemical-free in 1970, so what has been your problem? You deserve a couple of years pushing a mop or driving a bus!" 

In any case, even Wal-Mart cannot afford to sell any more toxic waste mislabelled as food. "Roundup Ready" crops can apparently be used as fuel, at least in well filtered indoor furnaces, because burning destroys most of the glyphosate. I've not heard of any safe use for the 2,4-D stuff, but there may be one. But in no case can you risk allowing human beings to eat this stuff. You need to crack down. 

If you can't sell me natural peas that are fit to eat, you can't. Just don't sell me (or anyone else) poisoned peas, which this batch so obviously are. You'd be on safer ground, legally, if you just burned the farm where these peas grew to the ground/ 

You need to recall these peas, and any other alleged food products that can't say it's GLYPHOSATE-FREE and GMO-FREE as well as gluten-free. 

It would be a good idea, unless you have more of the peas I've been eating in previous weeks this year, to leave your shelves completely bare of peas. Fill those shelves with notices "TO ALL PEOPLE WHO MAY HAVE PURCHASED THE RECALLED, POISONED PEAS FROM SPAIN: WAL-MART WILL RESUME SELLING PEAS WHEN WE ARE 100% CERTAIN THAT WE WILL NOT BE INADVERTENTLY SELLING ANY MORE PEAS LIKE THOSE." 


Wednesday, October 25, 2023

New Book Review: A Kingdom Is Lost

Title: A Kingdom Is Lost, a Song Is Born 

Author: Steve Moretti

Date: 2019

Publisher: DWA Media

Quote: "St Clair had watched in horror every debate leading to this...final vote to accept Union with England." 

In 1707 England and Scotland formed the United Kingdom. The vote was not unanimous. And in a day when only a handful of the richest men had votes at all, how did people settle such weighty matters, demanding such clear thought and public spirit? By fighting and killing one another, of course. Building interest in nonviolent solutions seems to require the influence of women. Eighteenth century males feared few things more than a "petticoat government" that might have required them to reason about their differences rather than fight about them. So they settled things the breeches way (only working men, who had no vote, wore trousers). It cost them many lives, and money neither side could afford...

So, in this not-quite-novel, this series of vignettes published as a "prequel" to a trilogy of novels, three orphaned teenagers, who used to love each other as siblings ought, are set against each other by politics. Big brother James, whose character suffered from his becoming head of the clan in his teens, finds an influential job in the new government and naturally supports it. Baby brother George is a Jacobin who wants independence for Scotland. Sister Katharine just wants to compose music to play on her cello in peace--but the times won't allow any of them much peace.

In the novels, the anguish Katharine and the orphans' Aunt Margaret, who has lost two husbands and two children already, feel over the effects of war builds a time slip that relays their emotions to their descendants. Grandmother Margaret Rose has always been written off as a mental case because she so often dreams, waking or sleeping, about the moments of crisis in Katharine's and Margaret's lives. Granddaughter Adeena (Dee to friends) just wants to compose music, and although she composes in the modern style, she still feels that "the cello chose me." And when Dee gets her hands on Katharine's cello, a series of time travel adventures, in the Outlander mood, is about to begin.

The four chapters of "prequel" introduce the four women, their families, and their cellos. They weren't long enough to make an e-book so Moretti is circulating them together with four chapters of the first full-length book in the trilogy. 

I'm not familiar enough with British history to comment on the accuracy of the storyline. The story is well told, showing only the usual tendency of writers creating opposite-sex characters to overestimate the percentage of the opposite-sex brain devoted to thinking about the writer's half of humankind. I'm not wild about historical romances whose ending is part of their beginning--the prequel has already told us that Katharine's going to hide the cello and Dee's going to find it--but in this story the musical motif adds more than the usual amount of interest.

Given Amazon's interest in digital audio-books, you knew they'd be eager to publish books about music that are actually enhanced with music. Traditionally books about music had to print notation for the sounds the author intended to communicate, or else rely on subjective descriptions. of this song's wistful modal melody and that one's thundering bass chords. But why shouldn't audiobooks, when the author has told you "Mr. Darling was at the piano, writing a song about Cruella de Vil," pause to give you the actual sound of the piano picking out the melody and a man's voice singing the song? 

Moretti wrote this trilogy that way. You can read the traditional books that tell you about the classical pieces Katharine played and the modern pieces Dee composed, or you can listen to the audiobooks and hear their performances.. 

Still undecided? Visit stevemoretti.ca to read the prequel and join Moretti's e-mail list for free. I'm guessing that audio clips will tell you whether you want the full score of these novels.

Will Moretti transfer this pleasing new book concept to nonfiction? He's already written a biography of Tchaikovsky. With encouragement he might do more. 

 

If I Could Invent a New Holiday

This week's Long And Short Reviews question is, "If you could invent a new holiday, what would it be?" 

LOL. As this blog may have made clear, I tend to think of holidays as something to forget. I like the ideas behind some holidays but don't like the idea of pressure to interrupt business to celebrate some silly thing that may or may not be relevant to anyone I know. 

Internet writers like Lady Samantha back in the Associated Content years, or Messy Mimi now, have published lists of some less widely known holidays with the potential of being great fun--as long as people celebrate them privately, without inconvenience to anyone else. I'm in favor of letting employees to whom the days don't mean much open buildings even on Christmas Day. Most people may want to stay home and celebrate the holidays with their families. Some people don't. Let them do business-as-usual on Christmas Day in exchange for taking days off to observe Duck Hatching Day/

Maybe instead of inventing a new holiday I'd like to invent new ways to observe some old ones, with an emphasis on movable and occasional holidays like End the Stupid War Already Day, to be celebrated whenever a war ends. This would be the day to rush out and buy things the stores have been advertising since the stupid war started, and send them to people in the countries where common sense and decency have at last reappeared. The emphasis would be on whatever people in those countries have had trouble finding during their war, and might include things like food, new shoes and underwear, plumbing and building maintenance supplies, citrus fruit and lipstick for cold countries, apples and T-shirts for hot ones. Depending on your budget suitable gifts might include anything from a box of pencils to a truckload of cement. Cards would say things like "I'm so glad not to have to worry about your stupid war any more."

Then there would be things like Perfect Weather Day, First Snow Day, and Badly Needed Rain Day, which are of course celebrated by going out and revelling in the weather. 

Instead of Bank Holidays, there might be Garden Holidays, which are celebrated on the days of pivotal importance to local gardens, like Fruit Picking Day, Potato Digging Day, or Strawberry Covering Day.

Tuesday, October 24, 2023

Serious Dogs: Police Dogs on Petfinder

Yesterday a comment on someone else's blog was that the commenter's neighborhood was currently full of Yellow Lab and/or Golden Retrievers, and the popularity (pupularity?) of this breed made them seem "generic." And not serious.

How serious can you be when your main job skill consists of an instinctive, almost irresistible urge to go and jump in the lake?

While retrievers are big enough to be a serious investment of exercise time and dog food funds, they were undeniably bred for sport. For fun. They excel at sharing fun with their humans, like Marley in the movie and Barkley in the book, or like the resident dogs at the boardinghouse from which I walked to that little church college. Those boardinghouse dogs were irresistibly lovable. Born to share long walks and runs with young humans, fetch toys for the humans to throw and then snuggle beside the humans while they study or watch television, and to like almost all humans, retrievers are a good choice for boardinghouse pets. And when you need a serious, protective looking dog...some retrievers can rise to the occasion, too. 

But if the neighborhood is so full of retrievers that it's hard to tell which one belongs to whom, and you want a big, serious, yet friendly dog...well, cheers to you for wanting to make the investment! As noted earlier, shelters are full of dogs who've been rejected because they were too serious, too much dog, for some people to handle. The working breeds from which service dogs are usually chosen, collies and shepherds, are fairly easy to adopt. Their adoption fees can be high, but so is their food budget and the assumption tends to be that, if you want a big responsible guard dog, you can afford to pay $300 or more.

We had a collie post in June, so it must be time for a German Shepherd post. These wolfish-looking dogs are usually gentle and loyal and lovable and good with children, but they're still a very serious commitment. You will be buying many pounds of meat, scooping many pounds of animal exhaust, walking many miles with an animal who's strong enough to drag you, getting the dog to the vet from time to time, and paying serious vet bills if the dog actually becomes ill. But if you want the look and personality (though not the tidy half-hour scripts) of "Rin Tin Tin," the commitment is worth it. 

Zipcode 10101: Frieda from Chittenango 


Frieda is only two years old. Though she'll be an Old Dog at seven, for now she's still a frisky pup who likes long, brisk hikes. She will escort you through New York City or through the northern Appalachian mountains, in any kind of weather. She likes children. She has been a stern but well liked leader of lesser dogs--her foster humans don't want her to have to fight to maintain leadership, which she probably would do all too well. They don't expect her to do well wih smaller animal species. How she relates to horses or cattle is unknown. Her foster human likes road trips and so does she; Frieda's travelled from Texas to New York State and her foster human will bring her to where you are, if you're the right sort of human. (I'd guess that the right sort of human would want to pay all travel expenses and encourage her foster human to do some souvenir shopping in the right sort of human's town.) 

Zipcode 20202: Zara from DC 


Right. Note her web address. Note which rescue organization she's coming from. This group specializes in rescuing hard-to-place dogs just before a city shelter has them gassed. There have already been some behavior problems--with straying, if nothing worse--and they specialize in big police-type dogs, so they're talking about a VERY serious commitment. They claim to spend more money hauling and vetting each dog than they recover on the hefty "adoption fee," which is probably true. You will be making further serious investments of time and money, following up with dog training school and veterinary care. You will need to convince the shelter staff that you've lived with police dogs before. You can, however, arrange to meet in a public place rather than sending them inappropriate information on the Internet. 

If you're thinking that this year-old pup sounds like fifty pounds of trouble, you're probably right, but it would probably be the right kind of trouble--the "pains" anyone has to take to rear a puppy into a good dog. She may grow bigger. She'll need refresher courses in where to find your dog restroom area and other rules of your home. She might be overexcited by smaller pets or children. She's choosy about other dogs, too; they don't recommend planning to walk with her at a dog park since she might feel a need to assert dominance over other people's dogs. She'll help you keep fit, but she needs further training in walking beside you like a serious guard dog as opposed to running you off your feet. If that sounds like fun--the investment you expect to make in a smart, tough, serious canine companion--then Zara is for you.

Zipcode 30303: Jax from Roswell 


The photo was not my first choice. (That would have been a pup called Eloise, who is described as "URGENTLY" needing a home, but then the alleged rescuers want to read your application and then bring the dog to your home. Well, that might only indicate that they're control freaks and does not guarantee a visit from burglars, but they need to know that, times being what they are and Atlanta being what it is, y'know, y'know...they need to bring the dog out to meet you in a public place, and provide some information about their idiotic control-freaking selves and their homes before they ask to be invited to other people's homes. The gall!

However, their loss may be your gain if you want to adopt a young, lively, trainable, yet serious police-type dog in Georgia. Jax is described as the very best-case rescue dog. He was raised and trained by kind people and turned in only because he lost them. He's described as sweet, even shy, not aggressive but loyal. He is still young and bouncy and, like the more challenging pups described above, still needs to be adopted by someone with experience hiking or jogging with a large energetic adolescent dog. If you've lived with this type of dog before, but this will be your first time as the legal owner of one, Jax is probably for you.

As always, if you can't adopt these dogs, please share their pictures! Together we can Picture Them Homes. The year's coming to an end, the sponsors are going to want to see some numbers, and because they are such a serious investment, these beautiful dogs need all the help to find homes they can get.

Web Log for 10.23.23

Two links...

Political Philosophy 

A great philosopher, this Zuby. 


 And the trouble with the Left is that they refuse to leave other people alone. 

These days, if you're a little old White lady who tells them in a little-old-White-lady-like sort of way, "I'm working on something. Please leave me alone," they're likely to tell you that wanting to be left alone is a White privilege and you're being "racist." Hello? Saying it politely is the White privilege. Try tagging after a ghetto gangster and see how long you last! We as a nation desperately need to extend to young people, especially "blackandhispanic" ones, the privilege of just having rooms of their own where they can tell people "Leave me alone." 

War and Peace

David Ben Alexander:

Book Review: The Art of Deception

Title: The Art of Deception 

Author: Peter Martin

Quote: "I think deep down, we would both like kids."

So says young John Greaves. He is so, so wrong. For every minute of the next several months before he really becomes a father, and after, he'll be made to eat those words. 

John is tall, dark--for an Englishman, with black hair and oak-brown eyes--and close enough to handsome. He's married Angela, who has long ash-blonde hair, blue eyes that make him shiver, a lucrative job she enjoys, and a major mental problem. 

Maybe it's just a festering secret from her past, a heavy false-guilt trip. Maybe. 

John and Angie are luckier than many young parents, and know it. Though John was thinking that he'd like kids in a few more years, and Angie absolutely does not want a son, they can afford the baby. Angie's employers want to keep her; that's why they give her paid leave during the difficult stages of pregnancy and for six months after the baby's born. John's employers appreciate his work, too. They have friends and money and a big house. John has two devoted parents; Angie still has one, though her mother's long dead. 

Even so....the main value of this book is to remind young people where to stop the expressions of affection, even after marriage. One of the things Angie doesn't welcome about motherhood is the prospect of "turning into a whale," but she does worse than that. She turns into a real horrorcow. If "horrorcow" is an unfamiliar word to you, Angie fairly well defines it. Throughout the first three-quarters of the book John is the perfect father and Angie is the complete horrorcow. Angie even thinks she wants an abortion, but at the last minute she leaps up screaming "No, no, no." But she continues to punish John for her difficult pregnancy and her being bored at home with a baby she doesn't want to care for. 

Then Angie leaves John with the baby, and the story develops a plot. A friend's wife isn't as happy in her marriage as everyone thinks. The friend doesn't want children. Maybe the wife can move in with John and the baby. But Angie is not the only person John knows who has major mental problems, or even the one with the worst problems. How much danger is John in, and from whom?

I was not able to suspend disbelief in this cautionary tale. Young people should of course be aware that an unplanned baby can ruin their lives, but can any woman read a man's story about how well a man behaves toward a woman who treats him badly without laughing uncharitably? I can't. 

If, however, you are or live with a person between the ages of about fifteen and about thirty-five, and want to remind yourself or whomever of the reasons not to do what makes babies until you're absolutely sure you want babies, you should buy this book. 

Monday, October 23, 2023

Web Log for 10.20.23 to 10.22.23

It's been a weird weekend. Someone's in the hospital. Hours even of a glorious Saturday were spent near the computer, reading new Christian books and waiting for news, but I didn't get much web-surfing in on Saturday night either. Tell me, readers; do you like link logs with one or two links, or link logs that are closer to full-length posts? Anyway, this one contains a mix of personal stuff, hard-hitting stuff, and pleasant fluffy stuff. There is no obligation to click on any link here. Read (or listen to) what you choose.

Animals 

The East Sussex Wanderer shared some clear close-up shots of pretty little moths...


...but what really caught my attention was the Wanderer's study of the White Admiral, Limenitis arthemis. So far as I know the little moths in this week's post at that site have not crossed the Atlantic Ocean. The White Admiral has; like its distant biological relative the Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta), it really is an Admiral of the Ocean Seas. These butterflies and some other species named after interesting characters, the Monarch, the Painted Lady, the Cabbage White, and the Mourning Cloak or Camberwell Beauty, cross the ocean often enough to be on the lists of British, American, European, and sometimes even North African butterflies. Usually they go by ship. All Monarchs seem to come from North America, but the Admirals and some other transatlantic species have formed native populations on both sides of the ocean.


Quite a study of the pupa. Ovid, who wrote the first surviving book about Metamorphoses, should be proud.

Censorship 

The next stage after tolerance of censorship:


We need laws. Anyone who's been involuntarily hospitalized, in the absence of unmistakable evidence that person was dangerous, is entitled to damages, from the hospital and/or the person(s) who sent them there, that amount to a guaranteed base income for life. All payments to be delivered to the person, in cash, in envelopes that proclaim in big bold letters, "Partial Compensation for Damage to (Name)'s Career. (Name) Is Sane. Dr. (name of admitting psychiatrist) Is Not."

Glyphosate Awareness 

Y'know what'd be scary for Halloween? Print "Roundup" in a similar-looking typefont on a white or blue apron...you could be more detailed with the costume, but people will get the point. Go from door to door with the kids and, while they're scooping up the sugar, talk to people--briefly and non-judgmentally--about glyphosate. Not all of the scientific studies of this chemical are free to download and print yet, but many are. I think the reports on the studies in the Defender are about the right reading level for people who don't read the Internet, but some people might at least be flattered, whether or not they'd be better informed, if you dropped a scientific document on them. 

I'm getting server error messages from MomsAcrossAmerica.com. Whether that site's down for routine maintenance, being remodelled and improved, or being attacked, Google can't say. How peculiar. Feel free to click on the search label "glyphosate" at the bottom of this post, which should open most of the documents containing links to glyphosate studies discussed at this web site. Even more glyphosate links are collected under the hashtags #glyphosate and #GlyphosateAwareness at:


Poem

Maria Pavlik: 


Retirement Is Hospice

My husband had TIAA. For people who want to buy into the system of letting others manage their money and then tell them to "retire," it was a good system. Both of us could have lived decently in a decent suburb on his income, alone, if necessary. Nice little house with office, library, and guest bedroom; recent-model car; heat to the temperature his blood pressure meds called for, all winter; biweekly day trips and monthly road trips, because that's Washington. Annual "Health Fairs" for all the retirees in the area, with free blood screening for cancer and many other tests that aren't normally free of charge. Since we worked for our spending money he could afford to lose some money on a political campaign. Never a minute's worry about money when he needed medical care--which, up till the last six months, was seldom. Regular check-ups with the doctor of his choice, an old school friend. TIAA did select "participating providers" of medical care but they offered a very wide range, including historically Black institutions and traditional Asian practitioners. And my husband, "the black one" in a full-spectrum Indian-mix family, never felt isolated by his complexion. Lots of people at TIAA were Black and/or melanistic; some even came from southern India.English was his first language, but some people at TIAA spoke all kinds of other languages and were there in case anyone felt too ill to speak English. 

But seriously..."Retirement is for all"? My husband did not agree with that, nor do I. He was pushed out of a job he'd never liked much, and his first concern was finding a better job. He had no plans to retire, nor did he. I have no plans to retire, either. My elders didn't really...some of my extended family have retired from this or that due to disabilities or just changes of interest, but that sitting-by-the-fire-and-playing-card-games thing, no waaay. When people paying you a pension recommend that, they want to stop paying that pension sooner. Bodies and minds that people don't use, they soon lose!


It'd be very nice if every corporate or federal office in charge of retirement pensions were up to TIAA's standards, so I recommend checking out this link and considering what other retirement plans might be lacking. One way to bring them up to standard? Stop draining them. Don't be part of the crisis. You can always retire when you are totally unable to do anything else. As long as people can be useful to others, all the evidence indicates that useful work does them good. At a certain age it's socially acceptable to tell an employer to "Take This Job and Shove It," then start doing a job that is more fun...but people must do something to stay alive!

When I've had a taxable income, I've paid into Social Security. No complaints; I had parents at the time and didn't mind paying for some part of what they drew out. I've even calculated my own Social Security taxes, which is a form of torture for anyone with dyscalculia. Of course I know how, in theory, fractions of percents work, but in practice the only reason not to round that seven-and-eleven-and-ahalf business off to ten-and-ten has to be pure spite. But those parents taught me from childhood that Social Security was an unsustainable pyramid scheme that could only possibly seem to work for one or, at most, two generations; that it was not going to work for me, and the siblings and I should plan on its falling apart before any of us reached age 70. 

I say retirement is for whatever age a person is when person decides it's time to die. As long as there's something you can do, do something--to help others, if you don't need the money to pay your own expenses. If rich, take it as an indication that you're called to adopt an orphan, and work in order to teach the orphan about work by example. If pushed out of a job that got you into TIAA, give thanks, and stay with it, in case you ever really need it...but I'd hate to think of planning to need it for more than a few months. 

I have given some thought, since I don't have children and will probably never be able to adopt any, to aligning myself with one of those religious orders where people with major disabilities can depend on others for some help with the transition to the work they can still do. George Peters gave me a good example of adjusting to blindness (a strong possibility for anyone who works with computers) but it was a major adjustment, and I'd hate to have to depend on government or on any big regimental system to get through it. So, public announcement: I am a lifelong Christian. My whole-Bible beliefs and practices are not fully compatible with those of any denomination, but it's all about the one thing. I am at the disposal of any Christian group that considers ten or twenty years of my talent to be enough to invest in a monastic-style retirement, if, when, and only if and when I become blind or unable to walk.

With other disabilities, I think I can manage on my own, though people have been wrong about that. This Saturday I've stayed close to the computer, even gone online to check e-mail and caught myself checking Disqus too, but mostly reading Christian e-books and praying, because someone has finally been dragged to the hospital. Apparently he was hiding what sounds like a large, painful, malignant tumor under a baggy work uniform for years. Upon hospitalization he reportedly said "I wish I'd gone to the doctor the first time someone noticed this and told me to go to one." He has a point. But I hope and pray I never have to make that kind of decision. I'd much rather live in preparation for a sudden death, as my parents, husband, and other beloved elders did.

Safety 

Why we should never push cars to the highest speed on the speedometer dial, just to find out if they will really go that fast...


War & Peace 

This Palestinian is speaking for Prager U, which is generally favorable to Republicans and Israel, so there may be some question how many people actually living in the Gaza region would have agreed with him. But I wish all who want to "Stand With Palestine" would hear him out and consider his point of view. If in fact many "Gazans" agree with him, Israel might want to stop bombing them and try working with them. (Note that this is an older video. Bassam Eid (spelling??) still knew people who wanted coronavirus vaccine!)

New Book Review: Genevieve's Sixth Choice

Title: Genevieve's Sixth Choice 

Author: Sheryl M. Frazer

Date: 2022

Publisher: Sheryl M. Frazer

Quote: "It's another child, Gen."

Genevieve, the "psychic empath" this web site mentioned last week, is back in another emotional adventure of trying to work out what happened to an unconscious patient by touching the patient and sensing per emotions. This time it's a five-year-old who was found wearing only sweatpants, lying unconscious on the ground, not apparently abused except by a fall--but from where could he have fallen? Police Detective Brunner Chao suspects foul play and calls in Genevieve to commune with the spirit of the unconscious little boy. 

It's painful for Genevieve to share the feelings of people who are injured, ill, or dying, though she does it for the greater good of all. In this case her reward for sharing the child's confusion and pain is that she finds the greatest danger to his life--still a threat even in the hospital--and saves him.

If you don't mind a story based on a questionable premise, this is an ultra-cozy, feel-good mystery in which nobody ever intends to hurt anybody (though somebody does make a really stupid choice). 

Since Genevieve lives in her feelings and is happily married, the story is padded out with the emotions that balance her work--torrid marital sex. One might think Gen and Teddy had been married long enough that Gen could at least wake up below a discreet row of dots thinking how glad she was she'd found such a satisfactory man, but one gets the Harlequin Temptations version of two bedroom scenes. If you are married and find this kind of thing helpful, run don't walk--this short novel is free on Amazon this month, with, of course, the intention that you'll want to buy the rest of the series. And if you like cozy mysteries with steamy romance, you will

Butterfly (or Butterflies) of the Week: Common Batwings

In this year's butterfly research news, the last two Atrophaneuras on the alphabetical list, A. varuna and A. zaleucus, were declared to be subspecies of a single species. Though easy to tell apart on sight, since zaleucus has white spots on its hindwings and varuna has none, they can crossbreed easily enough to be regarded as local variations of the same animal. 

Adam White's original description of Atrophaneura varuna, 1842:



Photo anonymously donated to GBIF. The base color of the fore wings is dark, but in some light the inside corners can iridesce white.

In 1847 Westwood argued that some, not all, individuals from northern India looked different from typical southern specimens of varuna  He admitted that the differences between varuna and astorion are hard to quantify when visible and aren't always visible. 

On the surface zaleucus appeared to be a distinct, though similar, species, with a distinct pattern of wing markings. At least on some individuals it was distinct. On others it was not. Debate has gone back and forth about whether to count zaleucus as a separate species. Currently most sources seem to be counting it as a subspecies. 


If you search long enough Google will pull up a document detailing how the species classification of Red-bodied Swallowtails is currently done. "De-tailing" is the word. The tail segments of dead individuals show more reliable species variations than the wing size and colors of living butterflies do, so, for an official species identification, the butterfly's hindmost segments may have to be viewed under a microscope. Living butterflies just go by scent, but they can smell, and see and hear and taste, an almost completely different range of things than we do. I'm not interested in detailed drawings of butterflies' back ends, but the drawings are online for those who want them.

Suffice it to say that the reproductive parts of butterflies of different species usually don't fit together well. Crossbreeding is physically awkward or impossible. Subspecies within a species, however, can and do crossbreed. Hybrids between varuna and Atrophaneura aidoneaus are not found. Hybrids between varuna and zaleucus are.common in places where both types are found.  


Photo donated to GBIF and iNaturalist by SL Liew (licensed under http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/) ..Often varuna looks solid black; the head except for the eyes and a patch between them, and the underside of the body, have red-to-pink-to-white color, but look black when backlighted. 


As the same individual approaches a flower, the independent movement of his wings can make them look as if they were damaged, as if the butterfly were falling. This is a trait all the Red-Bodied Swallowtails share. Their big wings have better coordinated steering abilities than most butterflies have. 


Photo by Uajith. Pictures of male varuna often look as if the body were impossibly wide and thick, for a butterfly. If you click to enlarge this photo, or study the larger photo studies of this species by Joel Sartore, you see that the extra skin at the butterfly's sides is actually part of the wings. Many butterflies have folds of skin, sometimes covered with hair not scales, on the wings alongside the body, from which their species-specific scent drifts into the air as they fly. Usually the scent is not noticed by humans. The males of Atrophaneura varuna have especially generous scent folds that can be unfolded to show little round "pouches" on museum specimens. Humans can smell them. The most charitable word I found used to describe these butterflies' odor was "musky."

In other species of Atrophaneura females have no scent folds. Their hind wings have straight or concave inside edges. In varuna, however, females often do show scent folds, smaller than males' but big enough to form convex lines on the inner edges of museum specimens' hind wings. Humans recognize them, too, as having an unmistakable odor. It's not a faint whiff of jasmine or papaya, either. 

Atrophaneura varuna, A.v. astorion, and A.v. zaleucus are found in most of southeast Asia in the right times and places. Their sizes vary from 3.5 to 5.5 inches, and the plain dark color of varuna and astorion can be confused with other species, but the varuna group can be identified by the scent folds and by the fact that both male and female butterflies in this species have an odor humans recognize. Humans describe it as strong, rank, and disagreeable. This species are the biggest stinkers in the Atrophaneura group, though some other male Atrophaneuras have distinctive odors that humans can smell, sometimes described as musky.

This museum collection shows the exaggerated scent folds of some males and the conspicuous ones of some females:


The "nominate" subspecies, Atrophaneura varuna varuna, may be the least common of the three. While most of the earliest recognized Atrophaneuras were named after literary characters associated with funerals, because of their black and white "funereal attire," varuna was named after a Hindu god primarily associated with the sky--probably because males often glisten with an iridescent bright blue like the sky on a starry night. 

The other subspecies' names are harder to account for. Zaleucus, probably a real Greek judge and lawgiver, was remembered for his wisdom more than for his funeral, although he was certainly missed. "Astorion" may have been a misspelling of Asterion, a minor river god in Greek mythology, or may have been meant as a tribute to the wealthy Astor family.


Wherever Common Batwings are found, they seem likely to be tagged as that place's Batwing. The subspecies astorion is especially identified with Sylhet while zaleucus may be "the" Burmese Batwing, but Common Batwings have been identified with several places depending on where they were found.

As with most Atrophaneuras,males are most likely to look glossy and iridescent, females faded and brownish, but there are no guarantees. In many swallowtail butterfly species some females look different from males and some don't. The butterflies recognize one another primarily by scent, so it's hard to say what purpose this variability serves. 

A question even scientists ask about varuna is what purpose its odor serves. Many swallowtail butterflies are primarily composters, and live on things that smell foul to humans, but the butterflies' scent is not noticeable to humans. Varuna is a pollinator species. Why should a pollinator species smell "worse" than the composters? Varuna spend most of their time in deep woods, whetre they are well camouflaged; do they need the additional protection they get by smelling unpleasant, and if so, from what? That the butterflies probably like the way they smell means less to adherents of Evolutionism than it does to the rest of us. We can see how animals might select for especially strong odors just because they like the way their mates smell, but it's a tenet of Evolutionism that taste evolves to fit biological needs. Varuna favors flowers in the genus Lantanai that also have an odor many humans dislike. To one another they probably smell like delicious flower nectar, even if it's a flavor nobody else seems to like.


Photographed head-on, this astorion's scent folds make his hind wings look thick. Atrophaneura aidoneus has generous scent folds too, but a few other features allow Asian butterfly watchers to tell them apart without dissecting them, explains Sebastien Delongtee: 


For those new to this web site, we recognize the fact that populations of living things evolve in response to environmental conditions, within a range of what's possible for their species. (Conditions allow men to evolve from an average healthy weight of about 100 pounds to an average healthy weight closer to 200 pounds, but in no human population have men ever evolved to an average healthy weight over 200 pounds--as it might be with an average height of nine feet. We evolve to the large or small end of the spectrum, and there we stop.) The difference between the plain black wings of varuna and the white-splashed wings of zaleucus is produced by DNA. Different environmental conditions, or just chance, may have caused the genes for white spotting to disappear in varuna and astorion populations while becoming universal or near-universal in zaleucus populations. That is how subspecies and races evolve. In some animal species, genetic variations can even develop in such a way that crossbreeding becomes unsuccessful--crossbred offspring may not survive, or may be sterile. 

The evolution of different physical types within species is a fact; gardeners rely on it to raise the kinds of food and flowers they want. Evolutionism is a different thing--a quasi-religious cult that insists that all living things must have evolved from amoebae, because if they didn't they would have to have been created by God, and the Evolutionists don't want to admit that there is any Higher Power than themselves. Evolutionism seems to me to require a great deal more faith than believing that a Creator made the different kinds of living things we see on Earth and gave them the ability to evolve.


Photo donated to GBIF by chengailim (licensed under http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/)

Did varuna and astorion gradually lose their spots? Did zaleucus gradually develop their white spots? Did the populations separate from an ancestral population in which some individuals had spots and some had none? We will never know. Fossil ecords don't document butterflies' colors. We do know that zaleucus don't always have big splashy white spots like the one shown. The white spots can be reduced to bars along the edges of the hind wings or to pin-dots in the middles. This museum collection shows the range of variations zaleucus can have, especially in places where the subspecies can crossbreed.


Like other Atrophaneuras and large butterflies generally, they fly slowly, often along streams or rivers in search of lantana flowers. They are found in hill country rather than high mountains. Nyok Lin Liew notes that males may occasionally join other male butterflies at puddles, not mentioning any specific preference for polluted puddles. Our Eastern Tiger Swallowtails would never gather at the clear water beside a stream if they could find a puddle left by a dog or filmed by an oil slick or, if possible, both. Liew finds a Common Batwing and a Common Rose sipping companionably at a stream.


Butterflies are easiest to photograph while sipping water at puddles, so puddle behavior tends to be well documented.




Liew also documents that they are "seasonal," but not tied to a particular season. Liew's population chart can be read in either of two ways. Either the life cycle is short, with multiple generations per year, and the butterflies move to different places for each generation; or the life cycle is long and irregular, with some nine-month and some eighteen-month generations.

Generally varuna is considered a species of least concern to conservationists, Some local populations have, neverehelss, been described a endangered. Local populations are sad to be endangered in Bangladesh, declining in Nepal, and already extinct in Singapore. 

Mating can be a simple matter of standing back to back, or a more athletic display in which both butterflies hang vertically, one supporting the other's weight and one flying upside down. Whatever the frequency with which the butterflies choose positions, photographers are madly attracted to the one that looks strenuous. This position is well documented at GBIF, INaturalist, and ifoundbutterflies.  


The food plants of many swallowtail butterflies are in the genus Aristolochia. These vines are best known as big, fast-growing vines that can survive being the food plants of very hungry caterpillars. Here, however, is the flower of the host of Artophaneura varuna:


Eggs are little orange beads, textured with tiny drops of aristolochic acid. Caterpillars eat Aristolochia leaves and share the same wonderfully unappetizing look other Atrophaneura caterpillars have. They hatch out pinkish white, already covered in bumps and hairs that make them look hard to swallow or digest. 


Still in its first skin, this baby has eaten enough of its host plant to give itself a healthy blackish-red color that warns birds that it will not taste good.

Each of the five skins through which they grow is slightly different in color and is bumpy, with a mix of red, black, white, and a purplish-brown combination of those, suggesting something incompletely digested by a bird who was probably very sorry it had tried to eat the thing. The caterpillars are in fact disgusting and indigestible to birds; a bird that eats one will probably survive, but won't eat another one. They show different combinations of reddish black and blackish red, with the white "belt" marking many Atrophaneura caterpillars show. The thoracic segments are slightly wider than the segments ahead and behind, and contain an osmeterium or "stink horns," a fork of flesh that seems meant to look like a snake's tongue. The osmeteria of most Swallowtail caterpillars release species-specific odors, which, if noticed by humans at all, are usually described as sweet and fruity. Varuna are not described as smelling sweet at any stage in life.

Pupae have the usual Aristophaneura dead-leaf shape, and may show a distinct blackish-grayish patterm on the back. 

Nicholas Kong used time-lapse photos of two caterpillars to document their life cycle in a four-minute video: 


This finishes our study of the Red-bodied Swallowtails. Next week we'll consider the peculiar genus Baronia.

Sunday, October 22, 2023

Book Review: Por Que Vivimos en Comunidad

Title: Por Que Vivimos en Comunidad 

Original title: Warum Wir in Gemeinschaft Leben

Author: Eberhard Arnold, with two chapters by Thomas Merton, one by Peter Stucky, and one by Basil Pennington

Translator: Claudia Amengual

Publisher: Plough

Date (German): 1925

Date: (Merton passages in English): 1989

Date (this edition): 2023

ISBN: 978-1-63608-060-4

Length: 85 e-pages

Quote: "[N]os situamos junto a los desposeídos, junto a aquellos privados de sus derechos y junto a los degradados y oprimidos. Y, aun así, evitamos ese tipo de lucha de clases que se vale de medios carentes de amor para cobrarse su venganza en aquellos que han explotado a los trabajadores hasta hacerlos sudar sangre."

In the nineteenth century, as Europe realized aghast that American democracy was working, Europeans scrambled to come up with alternative political systems that would feel like "their own" and allow their aristocrats and money-handlers to remain in power while disposing of the monarchs. In their brain-drained, tribal-war-addicted, proto-civilized way they blathered at length about socialism and communism. This web site agrees with those who say it's not logical to imagine that the English language made the great difference--actually some have pointed to historical influences on Anglo-culture that Euro-culture lacked, but that's not part of this book review. 

Anyway, in the English-speaking countries people easily came up with clever sayings to dismiss socialism and communism as the bad ideas we recognized them to be. 

"
I've just become a Socialist. It's a great scheme. You ought to be one. You work for the equal distribution of property, and start by collaring all you can and sitting on it.
"

(P.G. Wodehouse)

"
All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.
"

(George Orwell)

"

[N]othing but the courage and unselfishness of individuals is ever going to make any system work properly. It is easy enough to remove the particular kinds of graft or bullying that go on under the present system: but as long as men are twisters or bullies they will find some new way of carrying on the old game under the new system. You cannot make men good by law: and without good men you cannot have a good society.

"

(C.S. Lewis)

Europeans probably came up with clever quotes too, but it did them no good. They had to work out their political decisions in their own way--by dragging the whole world into their endless tribal wars. Their recent bids for control of a global government make Gandhi's contemporary observation newly relevant: European civilization would be an excellent idea, if it had ever really been tried.

(I don't get any particular pleasure out of belittling Europe; I had a few French and German ancestors too, but until the UN gets back to its mediation business and earns its keep, and the "World Economic Forum" disbands, apologizes, and goes home, it is the whole world's duty to notice how unfit Europe is to dictate policy to less barbaric parts of the world.)

Nevertheless some of "the courage and unselfishness of individuals" did exist in Europe a hundred years ago. One of those individuals was Eberhard Arnold, whose biography this web site considered last week. This German ecumenical preacher not only imagined, but put into practice, a truly Christian response to the valid concerns of the socialists and communists. Things written in German rarely translate into concise, quotable English but Arnold did describe his vision in several books, which the descendants of his congregation are still translating into English, Spanish, and other languages.

Arnold's solution--clearly identified in this book as a reaction to concerns about entrenched poverty and oppression--was religious communities where members gave up all personal property, pooled their resources, and lived frugally, with the formerly rich and the formerly poor on equal terms. It had worked for the early Christian church. It worked for Arnold's own little flock. Why should it not work for other Christians who cared about the poor, but could not support a totalitarian dictatorship? 

Why didn't it? Because neither the Marxist Communists nor the National Socialists actually gave a flip about the poor. Both parties dismissed Arnold; the Marxists overtly, and the Nazis covertly, despised Christianity anyway. And the conventional "churchian" types didn't want to bother reading books like this one; they wanted to preserve the status quo, and all it took was a bit of heaving and frothing about, shudder quake, communes--didn't that mean everybody was having sex with everybody, probably in strep-stinky beds amidst piles of unwashed laundry and ruins of untended crop fields?

Wrongi. When people voluntarily commit to practice courage and unselfishness in intentional communities, they break up feudal class systems and provide social mobility to places like Europe that still needed social mobility. They offer poor people a far more satisfactory alternative than leftists' feeble "Just be a gracious recipient of handouts," which sounds nice to rich people but more emetic than inspirational to poor people. They make "From each according to their ability, to each according to their need" a viable, even sustainable idea. 

In 1925 it was easy to dismiss Warum wir in Gemeinschaft leben as too radical to be practical for Church and too private to interest the State. A hundred years later, as the Bruderhof groups have survived a few generations and grown and spread, Americans are more likely to agree with Thomas Merton that Arnold's life, work, and followers are worth studying. Merton was a man ahead of his time, and he could read German. His comments on Warum were not part of a book, but were part of two speeches he made that were posthumously published in a 1989 collection. They have been published as the last two chapters of this book, while Stucky's and Pennington's recommendations form the first two chapters. 

In the US today, the cost of living has been the main incentive for young people to live communally. A far more pleasant alternative to tax-funded, social-worker-managed, usually ugly and dirty and dangerous "housing projects" are the "group houses" rented by any number of single twenty-somethings (sometimes including single parents with young children). Each resident rents one room that can be used as a bedroom, sharing a kitchen, bath, and usually some sort of sitting room with seating for guests and the house television set. Successful "group houses" I have known might or might not include an older couple who agreed to serve as de facto house parents. Usually the house rules include at least temporary celibacy; some houses allowed "overnight guests" but all successful group houses banned sexual relationships between housemates. Usually one person is buying the house and the others are merely paying rent to help the buyer make house payments. Rarely is any attempt made to spiritualize the relationship among housemates. Since most people have no intention of making their house sharing a permanent commitment, and in fact most group houses do not offer room for children to grow properly, the slack of any attempt to spiritualize the house-sharing experience may be appropriate. 

People don't always abandon communitarian arrangements the minute they start rearing children, although that seems to be usual. While I favor separate houses with a well separated bedroom and garden space for every child, some sort of communal agreement to share a farm may be the best way to give children a healthy Green experience of living on a small sustainable farm. The old European manor house and cottages, from which Americans got our idea of the old plantation with the great house and the slaves' or sharecroppers' cabins, became detestable as a symbol of inequality between the often idle and dissolute owners and the often exploited workers who shared the harvest of the same fields. That inequality can be eliminated from arrangements where any number of couples or single adults, with or without reasonable numbers of children, live in separate houses and farm the same land. That can be an egalitarian arrangement that allows people who could not otherwise afford, or even use, a full-sized farm to share the work and benefits of having one--and makes enough labor available to make True Green farming feasible. 

Both Merton and Arnold observe in this book that, in the absence of a spiritual commitment, both group houses and group farms tend to break up. Humans rarely have the ability to sustain long-term relationships, they say, without God's help. Both of them identify private property as the cause of disagreement, citing the old story of two hermits who lived in an early Christian lauro, a desert "retreat" where hermits built little houses close enough that they could hear one another shout for help, but not see each other enough to have to talk. The houses were smaller, but their arrangement resembled a residential street in a nice suburban neighborhood. In those days even Europe was so sparsely populated that these people could just go out in the country, find some unclaimed land, build their huts, plant their gardens, and have time left to catch fish in some unpolluted stream nearby, without anyone trying to tax or regulate them. Anyway these two old hermits had lived side by side, visiting with each other and the other hermits in the lauro every week or two and then going back to their solitary prayer and labor, and since interpersonal distance prevents interpersonal conflict, they'd never quarrelled. They agreed, in order to understand other people better, to find something to have a quarrel about. Why not some private property? So they walked about looking for something with some market value to fight over; since they had no money they couldn't buy anything expensive, but one hermit brought home a leftover brick and said, "My brick! Mine, not yours!" But the other hermit could not naturally get into the spirit of the quarrel; he said, "If you want it, take it," and went back to his prayer and labor.

My interpretation is that this story teaches us that good interpersonal distance frees us from quarrels about private property. I believe this to be true, based on my husband's and my experience. Unlike young couples who leave their parents' homes with relatively few belongings and have to work to build their own nests, we each had a house--he in rural Maryland, I in rural Virginia--and needed to agree only on what to bring to a smaller house we shared in the city. We had some interpersonal conflicts, but never once did we quarrel about the right to or use of belongings. All but one of our disagreements (the one about whose disabled relatives to visit first) resolved itself with the one question: "Do I want to be here with my Partner For Life and do this his (or her) way, or do I want to go home and do it my way?" and we always chose to stay together. 

We did, however, have the spiritual perspective--the fundamental understanding that no person has final authority, that only God has the authority or is always right, and that when people quarrel angrily, both of them are wrong. Trying to equalize the blame for a quarrel is a snare of Satan, and in fact, when it's possible for one person to say "I was completely wrong about this," the reconciliation may be fun. This thought was not new or original with Eberhard Arnold, but it's a point he makes in this book.

Arnold takes the position that when nobody owns anything even extroverts can live in the same house with other people, without quarrelling. I'll believe that if and when I see it. I have, however, seen that when people retain enough private property to separate themselves and their work if they really want to, whether they then propose to live together as Partners For Life, or share a house temporarily for business or educational purposes, or share a business or a farm among families living in separate houses, or share a house as a place where people with disabilities can safely do whatever work they are still able to do, an individual spiritual commitment made by each person is what makes the long-term relationship possible--whether lifelong or temporary. 

Well, the book was sent to me free of charge. Plough regularly offers one free e-book to anyone who visits their web site during a specified time; sometimes the offers repeat, since the purpose of these free books is to raise awareness of the Bruderhof as a living religious movement.. I missed the time when the English translation of Warum was offered (Why Do We Live in Community) but it's important enough for anyone interested in that denomination that they might offer it as a freebie again. But why wait? It's a small, inexpensive paperback. Buy it in whichever language you prefer, and consider the merits of communal living as a way to address poverty (and, yes, racism!) without bloating government or using any kind of force or violence. 

The epigraph that opens this book, quoted from an earlier Quaker publication, affirms: "We do not ask that anyone follow us or imitate us." If you're called to contribute money to a Bruderhof mission (anyone can always buy Plough's books or subscribe to their magazine), or consider visiting and perhaps even joining one of their communities, you'll know it. If not, you're free, even encouraged, to make what use of Arnold's insights you can.