Well-Swept Yard

At times I reflect on the digital humanities. A transformation is afoot. I ask myself "Just what is it that's going on here?" I don't know. But I get hints. I follow others who find the relatively new world called "digital humanities" a world of interest. We explore and talk to one another. Most of my talk is via Twitter. Some of it is marginalia scribbled in comment boxes of blogs. I listen to others via all of the media available, including digital media. We digital humanities folks take pride in impressive accomplishments in finding and receiving content in new ways, via new tools. What occurs to me is that the digital humanities movement is at a moment of conversation. As we converse, we discover. Our communications are pointers. We discover new paths. And we share maps of our journeys.

Eleventh grade. A tough one. Acne. So on. Eleventh grade: English and PE classes and other classes I don't remember at the moment. English class was into verb conjugation. PE class was not into exercise because it was my turn for locker room duty--caged room with baskets to hold student stuff. So. Back to English. We had a book with lots of examples of conjugations. Each example was presented in two columns, one singulars and one plurals. Hour after hour I stared at all the examples and tried to learn the conjugations. Memorizing all the examples was tough. I would stare, close my eyes and try to remember what the conjugations looked like, and then open my eyes to check. I wrote the examples over and over. I was making progress. But. Test. An English test over these conjugations was coming up. In fact, on the particular day I am remembering the test was later that day. While protecting the PE baskets I kept pouring over the illustrations and I knew that I was making progress

Yesterday. Yes, it was yesterday. Yesterday I was watching a news report about Japan on my Android. All of a sudden the video froze and up popped a message. A message. Typed. "Incoming call." Nuisance. Dismissed the call and had to refresh browser to return to the report. Some people just got no consideration.

Massive tsunami devastates Japan - Asia-Pacific - Al Jazeera English : "- Sent using Google Toolbar"

Cat sleeping Me watching Cat shifts I put my head near Cat awake We stare Cat paw out and touches my nose Cat purrs

Pannapacker at MLA: Digital Humanities Triumphant? - Brainstorm - The Chronicle of Higher Education : "I wouldn’t worry about community colleges. Although two-year schools sometimes show little interest in theory, they have been ahead of the rest of us in using new technologies, at least in pedagogy." That is a comment by Henry_Adams on Pannapacker's post in the Chronicle. The comment is right on target. I made the same observation when I was directing a tech center for faculty (some years ago--during that fuzzy time between Web 1 and Web 2). The two-year faculty had pedagogical question but mostly they had questions about how to stretch capabilities of common software--from presentation media to web work. As Blackboard made its appearance at the four-year campus, the community college regulars asked for accounts. I gave permission and even assisted in moving content from their WebCT LMS to our Blackboard system. The reasons? I find them embedded in the post a

10 Hottest Careers in America - CBS MoneyWatch.com : "5. Feature writing on the web. Is this where all those newspaper reporters who lost their jobs will end up? - Sent using Google Toolbar"

The time arrived. I must complete my annual report form telling my university what I did last year that ought to be regarded as meritorious. We faculty members used to refer to the form as the "merit pay form." Not so many years ago faculty members got pay raises based on a chair and/or dean evaluation and ranking of the reports. I talked to a colleague who said that submitting the productivity meant that he was being used. The university could use his achievements to show itself active without giving him a dime for what he did. The mention of his achievements might even be considered false advertising. Marketing scheme. Interesting.

I followed a link to the New York Daily News and discovered a section of the paper devoted to gangster mobs and their activities, including the rubbing sort. The page took me back to my childhood, to the family gathered around the 300 pound Muntz black-and-white TV, watching Eliot Ness gun down thugs weekly. Magically, the thugs returned by the following Saturday.The frightful fun never ended.  The quite wonderful thing about the section leader today is that Ancestry.com has a header add on the page. Tempting. Yet, what if this placement is intentional beyond click-throughs. If I enter my name and START NOW will one of those grainy smudged faces below pop up as my starter and turn out to be the Great Uncle that nobody would ever talk about? Resist. That's it. Don't START NOW. Better to read "Suspected Colombo mob scion Michael Persico celebrates release from jail with pizza and pasta ." He's relatively young. He could not be the unbespoken Great Uncle.

The weatherman predicted freezing temperatures for the region, a swath of land in the impoverished black-belt. My friend teaches in a consolidated school for the region. He said to me, "We will have a full house tomorrow; the school is warm; and the students will get something to eat."

I love getting mail at home. Always have. Saturday deliveries are special. I am at home most Saturdays and hear the mailbox rattling and know that the mail is waiting. Sometimes I work in the yard when the postal person comes with the mail. I've yet to see a grumpy carrier. I take the mail and we exchange a few words about the weather, about the sudden increase in catalogs (November and December), and notification that the carrier will be on vacation next week. The US Postal Service is the closest I come to the federal government and the meeting is usually pleasant. If only the rest of the government would aspire to behave as does the USPS.  I know. Nixon or somebody axed the postal service from the government. Never mind. The service is still a government service to my mind; just as Benjamin Franklin intended. By the way, Franklin proposed a seven-day postal delivery service .

As best I understand the game rules for abandoning daylight savings time, at 2:00 AM on a given Sunday, the clock must be turned back to 1:00 AM. The likelihood that most folk in America make the turn back earlier or later than 2:00 AM does not change the rules. The rule specifies that at 2:00 AM on the given Sunday the clock must be turned back to 1:00 AM. The problem with the procedure mandated by the rule is obvious. If the given-Sunday clock declares 2:00 AM, turn back the clock. Each time one turns back the clock to 1:00 AM, one establishes that the clock will need to be turned back by in another hour. When the clock reaches 2:00 AM the second time, the rule instructs us to turn back the clock. If one plays by the rule time will not stand still, but it will consist of an unrelenting circle of just one hour, the hour that lapses between 1:00 AM and 2:00 PM on the given Sunday.

I dreamt last night that I visited Chicago. I was walking through a huge bookstore and came upon a group of people having a meeting. Turns out some academic group was holding its conference in the huge bookstore because they could not afford a conference hall. Anyway I stood and listened and figured out that the group was talking about the death of languages in universities (that really is happening all over). So the speaker finished and asked if anybody else had anything to say. I raised my hand and gave a contemporaneous talk on how I saved Greek at a school. All of it was a lie but the crowd liked it and gave me a good round of applause. I wonder if I can put that on my productivity report. Outside of Chicago I found a group of people behind a hillock. These people were completely cut off. I visited. They were friendly. I noticed that they moved everything by mule or by hand and then noticed that these people had no wheels. I wondered whether I should show them the u

To Kill a Mockingbird: Summary and Analysis by Chapter: Chapter 1 - CliffsNotes : "'swept yard' In some areas of the South, a swept yard was a sign of a well-kept home. A swept yard was typically kept neat and clean using straw sagebrush brooms.

Johnny Cash :: Like The 309 Lyrics Hey, sweet baby, kiss me hard: Draw my bath water, sweep my yard. Give a drink of my wine to my Jersey cow. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for my journey now.  

As the higher education crisis grows worse I see more clearly the characteristics of the mid-sized state university. Wish for respect Lack of respect Imitation of perceived grand characteristics of the grand state university Long mission statement marking out all territory that might be useful in the future Tolerance of salary inequity justified by a vague concept of market value Insistence to have what real universities have: sports at high level, research, terminal degrees, highly paid administrators Budgets out of control Reduction of the institutional mission to one item: survival