Reduced to Gibberish

As I look back over my tales of Ladakh, I am astonished at how silly some of it sounds. I kept using words that would have caused my English teachers to cringe: "I" and "me" and "wonderful", "beautiful", "very" ...I can see Miss Hickman now, horrified that I couldn't find better words to describe my trip. From 7th grade through all of my school years, I knew full well that if I used the word "very" my paper would come back with a red pen-mark. "Unnecessary! Find a word that does not need to be further explained with a 'very'" In certain cases a very can be justified, such as when using the vernacular, in conversation: "I am so very tired" has a certain panache.

I seem to talk repeatedly about my "beautiful, wonderful" children, and refer to other people and places and blessings in my life in these terms on a regular basis. But those words don't do justice to my children, to Ladakh, to the education my parents provided me. I could be much more descriptive, I have an excellent vocabulary, but lately I've been reduced to simple words, overwhelmed I guess by the grandeur of life.

One of the hallmarks of an excellent education has always been, in my mind, the overcoming of sentimentality and triteness, the development of higher thinking skills and logic. In recent times, excellent educations are hard to find. Curriculums at even some of the best universities are money-motivated and politically sensitized or geared towards certifications and credentials according to a checklist of courses taught by adjuncts on the make. The development of a broad world view and an understanding of our own place in the larger contexts of civilization, history, art, literature, science, religion, and thought, aren't part of the package anymore. If a young person comes by that type of understanding and is able to break away from solipsistic self-interest, it's not because of receiving a typical education in America, it's because of being fortunate enough to be influenced by someone who remembers what a real education is.

But anyway, I too have fallen by the wayside. Maybe it's just the fact that I'm getting old. I'm starting to feel a new affection for poetry and lace and pretty, old-fashioned flowers in simple arrangements. Give me a few posies and a good book of poetry any old time. I have a heightened predilection for pastels. Give me prettiness and gentleness and let me forget all the complexities of being in the thick of things. I certainly don't need the stimulation anymore of being "out there" - making the scene- in the action du jour. I love hearing about it (absolutely LOVE text messages) and love knowing what's going on, seeing bits of it here and there, but I'm not starved for what's au courant anymore, and that's a relief. I'm even considering disconnecting the TV, what's wrong with radio? I kept TV in the house to a bare minimum when the kids were little, and have never really been too dependent on it. Maybe after the election I'll really do it. Hmm...as the cold settles in? No Evening News? Maybe and then again, maybe not.

The small sentimentalities and simplicities that I am allowing to creep into my life are ok, because they are solidly backed by the education of my youth: Because we used to have to memorize so much in school and Sunday School, my memory can summon up full passages of Shakespeare, Tennyson, Psalms, or I can think about Plato's Allegory of the Cave, as I stroll along a beach promenade. I remember great songs. I love getting older and losing the short-term memory, who needs it anyway?- so full of day-to-day minutiae and crip-crap. I'd just as soon (Grandma's phrase) think lovingly of all the best things I've experienced and learned in life. My family and a few friends are all I need to entertain and interest me in the outside world. I enjoy my job, and will probably stick it out a few more years. So now I am using words like wonderful beautiful and very, even though I know better. And you know- the fact is, sometimes things are trite but true.