Raising Homo sapiens children to be sapien

We are members of the animal kingdom - at least we don't think we are plants. Our phylum is Chordata and our subphylum is Vertebrata. Our class is Mammalia and our Order is Primata and our suborder is Anthropoidea. Our family is Hominidae, our genus Homo and our species is sapiens. The fact that our genus is Homo refers to the fact that we are linked through common ancestry to other species, now extinct. This Homo group is rather a small group, with various kin (with list updated regularly) only ourselves H. habilis, H. erectus, and H. heidelbergensis and Neanderthal (H. neanderthalensis) having this same genus name. We are also the only creature to whom, in self-conscious zeal, the word sapiens -- meaning wise -- has been applied. This species name was probably coined to refer to the fact that our brain was larger than that of some of the other member of our genus. The problem here is that our large brains do not have wisdom encoded into them. Wisdom seems to be what we gain from others, often through life experiences, etc. Rather than providing us with ready-to-use wisdom, our large brains, and their associated curiosity and trial and error learning, in the bigger picture, may have caused more problems than they have solved.

The Dark Side

The other day on NPR, Susan Roesgen discussed Michelle Obama’s desire to be “First Mom” and seemed to find it unbelievable that a Princeton and Harvard Law School graduate might actually decide to forgo pursuing a high powered career to focus on her children. Having to give up a career, she said was the dark side of his winning the presidency and her becoming first lady.

I have to admit, given the bias of my book, that it seems absurd to hear a giving up a "career" -- so you have time to nurture your children -- referred to as the dark side. It may be the side that involves the most sacrifice and the greatest investment; however, dark side seems a bit overstated.

Google the words "Dark Side," and 40,900,000 hits will appear.

The term "darkside, although I could not find the origin of the term in the dictionary, refers to something negative -- the dark side of man -- our propensity for evil.

Responses to Susan Roesgen's statement fell into two distinct camps:

(1) “First Mom” is the best and most appropriate title for a First Lady with young chldren. I didn't support Obama for President, but I will applaud if his wife remembers her children are far more important than anything else.

(2) It is disappointing to see Ivy League women sell out to patriarchy and become economically dependent on their husbands. Like it or not, a stay-at-home mom is subordinate to her husband. I know it is hard to raise children. However, it should be a “call to arms” to demand family-friendly workplaces, and end to discrimination against wage-earning mothers, and most of all, husbands who take equal responsibility for housework and childcare. I voted for Obama, but already I am disappointed in his “pale male” administration. American feminists need to demand that Obama follow the lead of Chile’s Michele Bachelet and Spain’s Louis Zapatero and ensure that 50% of his Cabinet members are feminist women. I don’t like Michelle’s “First Mom” comment. However, First Ladies don’t get paid anything and Michelle needs to insist that if we expect First Ladies to “be active,” then America needs to pay them. Nov 8th, 2008

These comments raise several points we might discuss.

(1) Are children more important than anything else? If so, why? If not, then what is more important?

(2) Should we really be disappointed when "Ivy League" women -- as opposed to state university graduates? -- leave their careers and devote their time to mothering?

(3) If a woman does make such a decision -- or better said -- if such a decision is made, is that women really "selling out to the patriarchy (and related question -- who/where/what is the patriarchy).

In response to (1), to cut to the chase, there are two ways to look at this question. The first if to look at the person and her personal interests, her self-interest. The second is to look at the future and what it takes to produce a productive series of generations (not necessarily happy or self-fulfilled, but possibly successful as measured in a number of ways); in other words, sacrificing one's self-interest to promote that of future generations.

If we look at the existing research, although the designs often leave something to be desired, studies fairly consistently show that mothers are important in a large number of ways. Mother-involved and well-loved children are more likely to be resilient, have better mental, emotional and physical health, and be good citizens -involved in their communities, and less likely to engage in high risk behavior. I could add more, but I will conclude this part of the discussion by saying that I know of no studies, other than perhaps some really skewed studies done during the heat of the feminist movement, that saw anything negative about such mothers. The negatives of mothering are individual positives. One cannot be a top lawyer, doctor, researcher, and also an involved and loving mother. Children are time-consuming. To raise a child well is pretty much a full time job, particularly during the early years. I am tired of writing, but will end here by stating that if we think primarily of ourselves, it is natural that we will focus on ourselves and our careers; however, if we are concerned about the future, that is a foolish thing to do if we have chosen to be mothers, or even had motherhood thrust upon us. What other people realize and we as Americans often do not, is that we are just a link in a chain that goes back to the beginning of life on earth, and that will continue as long as we have descendants, either Homo sapiens or some other species. While each of us is, in the bigger scheme of things, relatively unimportant, a mere link in a chain, we are also crucial, as that chain could break and thus end with us.

I will continue with the other questions at some point.

A Pickle House: The Phoenix That Rose From and Disappeared Under the Ashes II

Down the street from my work, between here and the Church of the Streets to Destiny, is a sign announcing "A Pickle House. Established 1905" When I looked up the Pickle House on the Internet, the only information to be found was in the Yellow Pages (see link above; maybe we should zealously guard the survival of the apparently threatened with extinction yellow pages). The A Pickle House sign still remains, brightly colored and clearly written, up near the top of the building, above the riff-raff signs below. The Mr. Pickle depicted on the sign resembles Mr Peanut, you know, the peanut with the top hat and cane. Mr. Pickle has a similar posture, only he looks like he is joyous and friendly. He is not a peanut-sophisticate.

Even though the Yellow Pages referenced A Pickle House as continuing to exist, with even a site marked on the map, the building seems deserted, surrounded by litter, with papers, pieces of fabric, and beer cans blown from hither and yon, the flotsam and jetsam of a large city parading as wrecked ship, or a wrecked part of the city aspiring to come back out of the ashes. There also appeared to be archaeological layers of business signs, one sign nailed on top of the former one, announcing a series of various failed (or moved) businesses that were housed there after Mr. Pickle moved on to better barrels.

To get to the point, however, in some distant memory cell I remember a living, breathing, deliciously smelling Pickle Store. Perhaps those wonderful smells drifted out to the street, but I can remember wanting to walk in and see and breathe deeply, breathing in the smell of the brine and pickle juice. I could imagine the smell; just like opening a new bottle of dills and a new bottle of bread and butter pickles at the same time. I imagine that there is a wood floor soaked in pickle juice so that even today, years later, the pickle smell remains fairly strong. It seems odd that pickel smell history, at least in my mind, is so much stronger than the history of the lives that walked in the door and paced the floors of the Pickle House.

This street used to be sort of the heart of an old Phoenix. My grandmother used to regularly drive down this street in her Studebaker. I remember seeing the Pickle House because I was always standing on the front seat, so I could see better. At least I stood on the seat until someone ran a red light, my grandmother slammed on her brakes, and my sister, who was standing on the seat with me at the time, flew through the front window of the car(she apparently is less tied to the earth than I am, as I didn't fly and only sustained a tiny cut on my chin while she was bleeding all over the car). We rushed to Dr. Running's Office for TLC and stitches and I remember sensing my grandmothers anxiety and Dr. Running's cursing (well, I don't think he actually ever cursed, but he was upset), as she was bleeding so much it was hard to stitch up.

But, back to the subject of The Street That Was Once Alive in the Heart of Phoenix. While we regularly drove down this street, I cannot remember all of our destinations (not A Pickle House apparently), but one of them was the place where my grandmother went to get the wicker on her chairs re-woven. They had to be rewoven (or whatever it is called) because we -- my sister and I -- regularly checked the growth of our fingers by seeing if we could still stick them through the holes in the weave.

There also used to be many nice hotels and restaurants on that street, only a very few of which have survived at all, other than as those who rent by the hour. Newton's Prime Rib was on the corner down the street, and it was a very nice place to eat. There was a restaurant on the street, going west, not east as I usually drive. We always stopped there on our way out of town and I always ordered roast beef, with mashed potatoes and gravy. What heaven. By the time we were in high school, there were many second hand book stores located on the street, and before eating roast beef, we stopped and I got ten books, as they sold 10 books for a dollar. Consequently, in my readings I was influenced primary by a historical period that proceeded my own, as most of the books I read were from the last century, with the newest books coming from the 1920s, around the time of WWI. I loved the dusty paper and library paste smell of those book stores.

Main Entry: 1pick·le
Pronunciation: \ˈpi-kəl\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English pykyl, pekill sauce, gravy, from or akin to Middle Dutch peeckel brine
Date: 15th century
1: a solution or bath for preserving or cleaning: as a: a brine or vinegar solution in which foods are preserved b: any of various baths used in industrial cleaning or processing
2: a difficult situation : plight
3: an article of food that has been preserved in brine or in vinegar ; specifically : a cucumber that has been so preserved

Scientists find prehistoric "nuclear" and extended family

The article begins: "LONDON (Reuters) – A 4,600-year-old grave in Germany containing the remains of two adults and their children provides the earliest evidence that even prehistoric tribes attached importance to the family unit, researchers said on Monday."

DNA evidence was used to support that this nuclear family included a mother, father, and two sons. One has to ask why the fact that nuclear families were important was surprising. First of all, infants are born to mothers who care for them. Fathers at times say around the help. This happens in all human societies and even in some other animal species. If kinship is central in all societies today, why wouldn't it have been important in the past? A second question might be why we have not found more such burials. First, it is likely that we have not found more of them because, plain and simple, we have not found many burials. Further, it may not have been common for all members of a family to be killed at one time and thus require burial at the same time.

A more important point here, however, is that extended kin are implied, not just a nuclear family. Although 13 individuals in total were buried at the site, no one mentioned an attempt to identify whether or not these individuals shared common ancestry and thus were more distant kin -- what we might today call extended family. It would not surprise me at all to find out that all these individuals shared a common ancestor, not so very distant an ancestor, and thus thought of themselves as kin. A second point is that the fact that these individuals were carefully buried together, not just thrown into a common grave, implies that extended kin were around and were able to bury their dead.

No one seems to appreciate the fact that extended kinship is important around the world, with the possible exception of the US and other industrialized societies. A burial ground implies extended kinship, that connects descendants trough time. Over a thousand year period males were buried at Broadbeach Cemetery. The majority of these males shared a genetic defect, inherited from a common ancestor.

Why do we focus on the singular - the nuclear family -- when a greater family is implied.

The Church of the Streets to Destiny: The Phoenix That Rose From and Disappeared Under the Ashes I

This evening, driving east on the way home from my office, I passed an office front church in a tiny strip mall. The name of the church was printed by an unskilled hand; papers, rags and cans littered the area around the front door. The name was Church of the Streets to Destiny. Now, as you might be able to tell just from the name of the church, the street I take home is an interesting one, the place where you find thieves peddling stolen goods, thugs, hired guns, streetwalkers, pimps, and drugdealers. This is an urban war zone and while the air is not filled with napalm, it is filled with diesel, meth fumes, garbage, and, were I poetic, lost dreams and hopes. Although my office is in a safe enough place -- a medical school -- that school is located a few blocks down the street from less savory places, places where you hate to hit a light just turning red as you know you will have to sit there for a moment or two, long enough to witness a major crime being committed--hopefully without being the victim.

When the west was first occupied by white folk -- the thieves, thugs, hired guns, streetwalkers, pimps, and drugdealers peddling snake oil and opium -- the west was its own rural war zone. It is my feeling that the west was civilized when men brought their wives west with them -- actually, and better said, when the wives insisted on coming along. They built churches, schools, historical societies and created charities, museums, musical events, craft fairs. The raw elements were either civilized, jailed, or pushed out to new territories.

So, my question regarding the church was whether or not it was created by women, hoping to bring god to a godless land, or by men, hoping to save souls and whatever else they wanted to do. While that little church might be successful in bringing order to a disorderly environment, one has to wonder if it has the potential to recover lost dreams and hopes that once formed part of what most people hope is their destiny.

Leaders and heroes: New meanings for old words

When I was very young, words like truth, honor, hero, and leader had meaning. When someone used one of these words, the way he or she used it matched a meaning that I understood. As I have gotten older, the meanings of these words have changed, and each year their new meaning seems to have gotten farther away from the old meanings.

Let's think about the word "truth." I remember reciting as a child when I believed that truth existed, "I take these truths to be self-evident....that all men are created equal...born with certain unalienable rights." Science now tells us that we cannot prove an hypothesis; we can, however, disprove or at least try to disprove or falsify it. We can find support for a hypothesis, but we cannot prove it. There is, in other words, untruth, but truth is not to be found, at least using science. I am, of course, assuming that even the laws of science will eventually come to be seen as incorrect or as only part of a solution. The idea that there is a truth, bigger than any of us, bigger than history, bigger than actual life -- that all of us, even those who are starving, dying, fighting, crying, suffering, neglected - are born with inalienable rights is, of course, the ideal. It is what we would like to be true. It used to be what we encouraged. Now we seem to encourage greed and self-indulgence to the point of being willing to soil even our own nest, the earth, to get a new babble to adorn our tiny fleeting corner of it.

It was startling when I discovered that the word "hero" no longer referred to someone, who undaunted, faced incredible odds and although perhaps losing in the end, never gave up trying to protect the vulnerable, to accomplish a deed that was basically altruistic. Hero today is often used to refer to someone in finds him or herself in a bad situation, but who died before he/she could make a choice of any course of action. Does just being in a dangerous situation mean we are a hero? I am sure that we, if we listen carefully, we would hear even hear the most superficial and vacuous of movie stars referred to as being called heroic, even when every action they have ever taken has had a self-absorbed end.

Today, and yesterday during the debate, we heard that a certain presidential candidate showed leadership. What I observed in that debate in particular, but also at other times, was not a leader, but a bully. How on earth is it possible to confuse bullying with leadership or presidential stature?

A democracy, my friend (friend,as this candidate likes to say), depends upon an educated electorate, a thoughtful voter. A bully, my friends, is not a leader. A bully is not presidential. A bully has a temper, a bully does not care for the vulnerable, in fact a bully looks for vulnerabilites and attacks them. Can we survive more years of yet another bully president?

In my book, I argued that there are two basic forms of leadership. There is hierarchical leadership, which is a type of servant leadership in which the powerful serves the powerless. It is a parental/maternal type role. Certainly, it must be true that mothers were the first hierarchs; the mother-child relationship was the first ranked relationship. Then, I argued, there are pecking orders. In a pecking order the one at the top is autonomous. He has no responsibilities to the weak. He has no responsibilities to those he "serves" other than the most mundane -- perhaps, like Peron, he need only look dignified in some odd sort of way.

I would go on forever about this, but it is pretty sad when our electorate is so easily duped, deluded, fooled into thinking that pretense, that bullying is a sign of dignity and leadership. One does have to question the success of our education system.

The University and its Discontents

At one time, I understand, universities and cathedrals were once designed to be beautiful and built to engage the imagination and intellect and draw attention to things bigger than an individual, god in many cases, love in others, altruism in others, compassion, kindness, patience, logic, intellect.....

I suppose that it must be true that when universities dumped god and the virtues, and no other verb probably works as well, that universities came to be designed based on function -- get as many students through as efficiently as possible -- and not form -- beauty. Although many will not agree, beauty and the other virtues were lost in the shuffle, in the paradigm shift. When I studied art, in the university, the worst insult you could get from your instructor was that your art work was beautiful. Beautiful meant trite, unimaginative, patterned. If by mistake you did something beautiful, you were asked to take a pen or an eraser or a knife and slash lines through your "mistake." No one wanted to be compared with the more romantic painters. When I studied literature, our interpretations had to be those of the faculty or they were faulty.

However, what concerns me here is not the loss of beauty, although one might mourn its passing as one mourns the loss of one's belief in the goodness of mankind, my concern here is the limitation, the hedonism, the lack of substance of what we seem to have created. Some of my most intelligent students are the most foolish, they are those most driven to copy the ideas, voice, words, postures, dress, smell....of those they take on as role models because of their lifestyle or "intellectual" philosophy. I am bothered by the dearth of role models who are concerned for and attempt to protect those who copy them. I am not sure that those who copy sorority girls are behaving any less intelligently, as at least they are copying a model that has been successful in the endeavor of attracting an appropriate husband. I am not sure how our "intellect" model has held advantages for the students who copy that model.

New lamps for old ones

The old lamp served Aladdin well, bringing him riches, a kingdom and the love of a beautiful princess. She, seduced by the offer of a new lamp, exchanged his magic lamp for a bright new one. This was the plan of an evil wizard who wanted to get control of its power. Once he got the lamp, disaster followed until Aladdin managed to get the old lamp back.

This metaphor speaks clearly of abandoning traditions in favor of new, more exciting ways of doing things. In church today, and remember that churches are supposedly the bastions of conserving traditions, we heard that this is a time for abandoning traditions. There were smiles on faces, as we like the beautful princess, are eager to get rid of the old lamp, to replace with the new, shiny lamp. We, like the princess, see no value in the traditions we so happily abandon.

I have tried to figure out which traditions -- which old lamps -- are the ones we want to leave behind and which lamps we want to embrace. There must be method to our -- if not madness -- then our desire for the new. My conclusion to date is that we want to get rid of all the traditions that asked for duty, sacrifice, and perhaps even honor. We want to add new rules that allow greater personal freedom. That the price of that freedom may be high, does not seem to be anyone's concern.

Role Models

Role model is yet another of the psychobabble terms that I generally abhor. However, the concept underlying the term is one with which I would agree, namely that humans are great copiers. The question, however, is who we decide to copy and when and what behaviors. I spoke today with a Frenchman who was telling me that he is writing a book about and in honor of his father who had been a famous surgeon in France. He said that when his father died, over 2000 people attended his funeral, the vast majority of those people he -- the Frenchman with whom I was talking -- had never met or heard his father mention. The people were there because his father never turned a patient away, even when that patient had no funds to pay. His generosity had touched many hearts. Despite his father's fame, his father's head was never turned and he remained a humble and patient man throughout his life. The Frenchman told me, and I listened carefully, that when he is confronted by situations that once would have upset him, he asks himself how his father would have responded. He then is able to respond as his father would have done.

How lucky he was to have such a role model. Many people do not. My guess, however, is that when they do, they want to honor that person. I felt much the same about my father and when he died I spent several years going in and out of the Amazon rainforest, as he had loved the rainforests in South America, and making a collection that I donated to a local museum in his name. So, I am not just interested in this copying behavior, but in our response to the death of one of our role models and our desire to pay homage to their lives. Could this be the origin of death rituals and monuments? I would think that the best homage is one made freely, but it seems clear that many mortuary monuments were built based on the use of force. Is this like trying to buy respect that one has not earned?

The rule of 10,000 years

My daughter has asked me to write about the rule of 10,000,000 years (or was it 10,000 years? I can't remember), which is the rule I made up when my children were young. She might be surprised to find out that the rule was made up out of studies in science and anthropology, not studies of ancient prophets and seers, but then she might not be surprised. Basically, the rule says that the decisions you make, the way you behave, is profoundly important and will have effects on your descendants for countless generations. I chose 10,000,000 years because it seemed significantly impressive, but for as long as our descendants roam the earth, our impact will be felt in them; they are there because of us. Perhaps we were one small link in a very long chain of ancestors, but there is no long chain, if one link fails.

So, I would say, for example, when she brought home a new boyfriend: I don't want you to worry too much about this choice. It will only effect the next 10,000,000 years. Back to the beginning of life on earth, whether you want to go back to Adam and Eve or a one cell organism, your ancestors went in an unbroken line. Without fail everyone one of them reproduced. We do not know if they were strong, wise, beautiful, plain, but we do know that they reproduced and had offspring. Our hominid ancestors had children, who in turn had children, and in spite of war, greed, famine, storm, and conflict, they managed to keep those fragile and vulnerable (and costly) infants and children safe, fed, and educated (perhaps a simple education, but nonetheless an effective one). I ended by saying: One foolish choice and that lineage that goes back to the beginning of life on earth will end with you.

There is, as I know and she knew, no guarantee. Individuals who were saintly can die without descendants, just as criminals can produce many offspring. The issue, however, is not just having children, it is creating a strategy to influence your children to make careful and thoughtful and yes, wise, choices, and to influence their children to do the same. I call this a dynastic strategy and write about it in my book.

There are, in my mind, many subrules that make up the rule of 10,000,000 years. I have outlined some of them, but basically they probably boil down not only to do unto others, but to a rule that says treat others as if they were close kin. However, I digress and oversimplify. So, Blair, here is the explanation I promised.

Does anyone need a pair of Koi?

When I bought this house, it came with a fish pond and I inherited a pair of koi who/that lived in that pond. The koi were small and quiet, and did not cause a lot of trouble, nor did they require much TLC. In winter they seemed to eat rarely and in summer they hid from the sun at the bottom of the pond. I put an umbrella over part of the pond, so they could have their choice -- lots of sun or little sun.

So, we grew up together, in harmony. They had few demands. I made few demands on them. Once in a while a bird would fall into the pond and drown. It was never clear why I never discovered them while they were still alive, struggling to keep their beaks above water. They were always quite clearly dead by the time I discovered them -- their bodies tend to slip under the lip of the pond and it is hard to find them. I since have added two fresh water containers alongside the pond, so, hopefully, the birds will stop falling in. This summer I have only found two birds so far. I am sorry to say that I do not know the species. By the time I find them, they are not so easy to identify, at least for me who barely can distinguish an Inca Dove from a pigeon. Yes, one is bigger.

Anyway, the koi have done well and now they are so big that one flip of the fins and they go from one end of the pond to the other. I am looking for a new home for them, as an alternative to digging up the entire back yard to put in a large koi pond.

The other day we visited the Japanese friendship gardens, as Sam, my 8 year old grandson, was playing the taiko. They had a koi pond that made me wish I had the nerve to climb over the fence at night to secret my koi in their midst. It was a bit startling that the koi were fighting and trashing about in the water, chasing other koi out of their territory. It is not clear that putting my gentle, pacific koi in such an environment would be a positive, but the size of the pond was impressive.

Anyway, if anyone reads this and wants a pair of koi, let me know.