Smart & Stupid

A couple of days ago I had a very enjoyable conversation with one of my daughters about "smart and stupid". I believe that -- with very few exceptions -- there are not "smart" people and "stupid" people...although people do some pretty smart and stupid things.

I have always been considered pretty "smart". My first grade teacher used me to tutor other students in reading. I think she did that partly because I was an excellent reader, and partly because I had way too much time on my hands, as I finished my classwork very quickly.

At some point I seem to have made it my life's mission to befriend the friendless...to hang with -- and help -- fellow students who were rejected by most.

In fourth grade, I actually got called out for trying to help a boy who could not read. He had failed and repeated two or three years (so he was older than the rest of us) and then he had simply been given all "F"s and promoted. I discovered that he did not even know the alphabet, so I took it upon myself to teach it to him during recess. (Yes, he did learn it.) When Mrs. Banks -- one of the most hateful teachers I have ever known -- "caught" me teaching him, she screamed at me in front of the entire class, "HE CAN'T LEARN!!! IF COLLEGE-EDUCATED TEACHERS CANNOT TEACH HIM, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN???" I am not proud of the fact that I stopped trying to teach him after that.

At the beginning of my fifth grade year, the teacher explained to the class quite honestly that math was not her favorite subject, and that if anyone was able to learn it by reading the text book and wished to work ahead, they were welcome to go ahead on their own as long as they turned in every written assignment in the book. (In my experience, teachers typically asked for only certain written assignments to be done in any subject, and never finished a complete text book by the end of the school year.) I took her up on the offer, turned in every single assignment, and finished the entire book two months before school ended. (Math was my favorite subject -- and I generally aced all the tests -- right up through ninth-grade Algebra I.)

I did well on I.Q. tests. (Still do.) But I believe that tests -- while important -- of necessity measure a person on specific areas of "intelligence"...areas that are important to society, and particularly those parts of society that are commercial. I firmly believe that everyone (again, with very few exceptions) is equally "intelligent" and "smart". The intelligence of some simply has little value in society. (Think "Rain Man", for example. I have personally known similar people.)

My belief that there are not "smart" people and "stupid" people was reinforced when I began reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People a few months ago. I cannot think of a single book that has enlightened me the way Stephen Covey's book has. Really. For the first time in my life I truly understand that no two people see the world in the same way. Everybody's view of things is distorted by their own unique paradigm, which is based on their own knowledge and life experiences. (If you find that hard to understand or accept, I invite you to participate in an experiment that I am preparing on a Facebook discussion forum that I created.)

For the past few weeks I have been reading A History of the English-Speaking Peoples Since 1900 by Andrew Roberts. (I hated social studies and history when I was in school. Now I read lots of biographies and histories, and almost no fiction.) About Michael Ventris (an Englishman who deciphered Europe's oldest language) Roberts wrote that "he exhibited any number of signs of genius: the capacity to take infinite pain, depression, fluency in four languages from childhood, a mother who committed suicide, lack of interest in human (or even family) relationships, an ill and remote father, a mathematical, logical but above all compartmentalised mind, and no teritary education."

Wow. With a couple of exceptions, that's a fairly good description of me!

Yet, I am constantly reminded of how little of lasting value I have ever accomplished. By some measures, I am quite intelligent. And yet, it isn't always very evident in my life. Many people of average or below-average "measured intelligence" appear much smarter than me in the real world.

Roberts' description of Ventris also fits my idea that there aren't "smart" and "stupid" people. By some measure, I believe that virtually everyone is intelligent...maybe even equally so. I've always been fascinated by the human mind...and particularly interested in people who are autistic or savant. They are good examples of unquantified intelligence.

Our perceptions of "smart" and "stupid" -- as well as "right" and "wrong" -- are very subjective. That does not mean that reality does not exist, or that "right" and "wrong" do not exist. They do! But I am convinced that no human can see things as they truly are. Our only possible viewpoint is through our own unique paradigm.

The more conscious I am that everything I "see" is distorted by my paradigm, the more I recognize the need to examine and adjust it. It is a process that must never stop, unless I choose to cease progress and remain as I am.

Sometimes I think that I am awfully old to just now be learning such deep but basic things about myself. But then I realize how fortunate I am to to understand it now!

RVing in the Snow!

Yesterday I left Stuart, Florida at 7:30 in the morning, headed to Greensboro. Had I left the day before, as intended, weather wouldn't have been an issue. But, strong thunderstorms were forecast for southeast Florida, and I wanted to get away early. Besides, snow was forecast for much of North Carolina, and I wanted to get the trailer to the campground at Hagan-Stone Park before things got too messy.

So much for plans.

About halfway through the 700-mile trip a tire on the trailer blew out. If I hadn't heard it blow out, I probably wouldn't have even known it until I stopped for fuel, or until another motorist signaled for me to pull over. I was somewhere south of Savannah, Georgia, on a clear straight stretch of I-95 with the radio cranked up loud, when I heard what sounded like a shotgun blast behind me. Those of you who know how well I hear (NOT!) are probably thinking, 'Wow! That must have been a loud boom!' Well, that's what I was thinking, too! There was no other vehicle close to me, so I was pretty certain that the sound came from my house! I immediately pulled onto the shoulder and got out and looked. The tire was split almost from bead to bead, and steel belts had already taken a small chunk out of the fender.

As part of my normal routine, before I had even hitched the trailer to the truck, I had checked the pressure on all the tires. Still, the only thing I could think of that would have caused a failure was overheating from a loss of pressure. Maybe I had picked up a nail somewhere...? (The tire was only a year old and had very little wear...probably less than 5,000 miles.) But, when I felt the tire, it wasn't any warmer than the intact tire right next to it! Hmmm...so it didn't overheat, which means it didn't fail from low pressure. That kinda made sense, because tire disintegration from low pressure probably wouldn't happen in one big explosion. So...I don't know why the tire went. At any rate, changing it (and checking the other 7 tires) delayed me about 45 minutes.

By the time I crossed the North/South Carolina line, it was already dark. About 30 miles south of Ashboro (and 55 miles from my destination) I suddenly ran into snow...pretty big flakes, and falling fast. I haven't had much experience with snow since moving to North Carolina 17 years ago. (Around here, when snow is forecast -- maybe once or twice a year -- everything just closes and people go home.) I had forgotten how a heavy snow in the headlights looks like a meteor shower -- or like the view from the Millenium Falcon going into hyperspace (Star Wars). Within a few miles I had passed 6 cars that had slid off into the median. (Wreckers and police were already attending to a couple of them.)

I finally pulled into Hagan-Stone park shortly before 9:00 pm. Since the ground was already covered by a couple inches of snow, I first had to get out of the truck and walk the campsite just to find out where the drive was. Then I had to back in blind, because there was no light in that part of the campground. Parking took several attempts (back up, get out of the truck and look, pull forward, back up again, get out of the truck and look, and so on), but I finally got it right where I wanted it.

Given the fact that it was around my usual bedtime, and I had started driving 13 1/2 hours earlier, and snow was coming down, and everything was slushy-sloppy, I really didn't want to mess with leveling the trailer. I figured I wouldn't worry about leveling side-to-side unless it was off quite a bit. I checked that level, and it was right on the bubble! (Woo-hoo!)

When the trailer is hitched to the truck, the front is always a little lower than the back. (One of these days I'm going to raise that hitch ball...) I had decided that if it wasn't too low, I'd just sleep with the head of my bed sloping down a little, and unhitch in the morning. Well...evidently the campsite I chose slopes down toward the back, because the trailer was perfectly level front-to-back, too!

So -- after the normal post-travel set-up, answering a few emails, and taking a phone call, I was in bed watching the news by 10:00.

This morning, as soon has I had my shower, I took the camera out to get pictures.

This is the first time I've had the RV in the snow. It's kinda cool...but not something I'd want to do often.

See more pics here.

Best I Can

His name is Bill. Say's he's "a half-breed native American". He had been paying for his father's house. After his father died, Bill lost the house. For a while, he lived in a truck and camper. But -- sometime in the last year -- he had to sell the truck and camper.

Bill told me all this as I filled his "coffee cup" (actually a square, white plastic jar minus the lid) with some freshly-brewed Starbucks French Roast. We were standing outside his tent in the 31-degree pre-dawn darkness. That's unusually cold for south Florida in a typical January...but it's been this way for the past week. "Normal" temperatures won't return for another few days.

About a year ago, while my house (travel trailer) was parked near my mother's home in Stuart, Florida, a man approached me and asked if I could spare a dollar or two so that he could get a bite to eat. He told me that he was living in the woods behind the nearby Publix supermarket, and that he had a job interview to go on that morning. Although he looked fairly clean and well-groomed for a homeless man, he seemed sincere, so I gave him some money and wished him the best. I also told him to stop by again if he needed anything. (For whatever reason, he never came back. I hope he got the job.)

A few minutes later I decided to bag up some food -- mostly non-perishable -- and try to find the place where the man was camped. Near Publix (although not behind it) I followed a path leading into the woods. At the end of the path were 3 or 4 tents.

Standing in the middle of the "camp", I hollered out the man's name. (I don't remember his name today, but I wish I did.)

From one of the tents a man growled, "What do you want?"

"I'm looking for [whatever his name was]."

"He don't stay here!"

"I met him, and he told me he lived out here."

"Well, he left a couple of days ago." Now the speaker's face appeared at the opening of his pup-tent. Although it was a bright, warm Florida morning -- almost noon, in fact -- I had obviously awakened the man. He was not clean, nor well-groomed. In fact, it appeared that he was sleeping off the previous night's bottled self-medication.

As the man watched me warily, I stepped to within 20 feet of the pup-tent and placed the bag of food on the ground. "I brought this food for [whatever his name was]. But there's plenty. Help yourself to whatever you want." And I left.

Now, exactly a year later, we're again parked near Mom's house for the winter. A week or so ago, when the weather turned cold, I checked the woods near Publix to see if the "camp" was being used. In addition to one tent and a fabricated plastic-tarp shelter, there was evidence of a recent campfire.

A couple of days ago, Brenda told me that she had spotted some wood that someone had put out to be hauled off with the trash. We visited the "camp" again. No one seemed to be "at home", but there was plenty of evidence (including a bicycle) that the camp was being used. So, we found the wood (a recently-cut pine tree and something that resembled a pallet made of 2x6s), loaded it onto the truck, drove as far down the "camp path" as we could go, and deposited the wood by the trail.

This morning I was up before 4:30 (as usual), killing time on the computer. Our overnight temps had dipped below freezing again, and I thought about the people who might be sleeping outside in tents. According to WPTV, the West Palm Beach NBC affiliate:

• "Typically, when the local temperature is forecasted by the National Weather Service to be 40 degrees Fahrenheit or less, or have a wind-chill factor of 35 degrees Fahrenheit or less, for a period of more than four hours, the Public Safety Department's Division of Emergency Management, in partnership with other non-governmental organizations such as the Red Cross, will open cold weather shelters for those who need to keep warm."

So...the shelters aren't open when it's below 40 for 4 hours or less??? How do the homeless know what the forecast is for tonight? When the shelters are open, how many are sleeping outside anyway?

Suddenly I realized that I could do more than just wonder. I brewed a pot of coffee, poured it into a couple of stainless-steel Starbucks thermoses, and drove to the "camp" with the coffee and a flashlight.

As soon as I got there, I noticed that the wood was gone from alongside the trail. After walking on back to the camp I saw that some of it was stacked near the campfire spot, ready to be used. Among other items on a makeshift table, I noticed a corkscrew.

The end of the tarp shelter was open, so it was easy to shine the light inside. No one was there. As I shone my light around the rest of the camp, a man's voice came from the tent. "Who is it???"

"I brought some hot coffee, if you're interested. I left the wood a couple of days ago. I'm glad you could use it."

"Yeah! Some of that stuff was really good wood...from Australia!"

From inside the tent he told me that, no, he wasn't cold; he slept under 6 blankets. But that he would appreciate the coffee. I heard him getting dressed.

I asked him how many people were in the "camp".

"Just me."

I told him that I thought several people had stayed here last winter.

"I won't let 'em. All they wanna do is drink."

"Are you hungry? We can go over to McDonalds for a dollar breakfast sandwich...my treat." (It was 6:30, so I knew the McDonalds -- just a block away -- was open.)

"Naw...I'm okay."

As he emerged from his tent, I lit my face with my flashlight so that he could get a look at me. I asked him if he had camped here last winter. "No," he said. That's when he told me that he was living in the truck and camper last winter, after his father had died and he had lost the house.

As I filled his jar with the contents of one thermos, Bill pointed to a nearby tree. "Them pepper trees are from Brazil."

"If you like, Bill, I'll leave this other thermos with you. It will keep the coffee in it hot for hours. I'll drop by later today to pick it up. You can leave it on the table, or -- if you're worried it will be taken -- you can put it somewhere else."

Bill set the thermos inside the door of his tent, just to the right of the opening. "I'll leave it right here. Thanks."

THAT Guy

Every now and then someone asks me when I'm going to post a new blog entry. It's been exactly three months since my last post, and the "Where I Currently Live" map (at the bottom of this page) was showing me in Shakori Hills. The map is now current...except that sometimes it shows me in Hamburg, Germany. (sigh)

Two weeks ago Brenda and I spent the day at Disney World's Magic Kingdom with Mom, Rick & Pam, and my nephew Mike and his wife Veronica. The Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor was an attraction that I hadn't seen, and it's different from anything I've experienced. The entire show is animated video, but the video characters interact with the audience...with some audience members being briefly interviewed Jay Leno/David Letterman-style. It's hard to explain; you gotta see it...although Wikipedia has a pretty good description.

One audience member repeatedly becomes used in jokes during Mike Wazowski's monologue (as a video camera shows THAT guy on the big screen). Guess who was THAT guy when when we went?

Rick suggested that I blog it.

Mike posted a picture on Facebook.

High Lonesome Strings

A couple of months ago I saw The Snyder Family Band perform at MusicFest 'n Sugar Grove, and I was very impressed. During their performance Laine Snyder mentioned that 3-year-old Owen was starting banjo lessons, and I wished that I had one of my brother Tom's homemade banjos to show him.

Tom has been building prototypes for the past couple of months, and recently sent me one.

Last weekend I parked the house at Shakori Hills and helped prepare for the upcoming events there. I intended to be back at Shakori Hills later this week for the fiddler's convention. But, by Wednesday I wasn't feeling at all like moving again. The High Lonesome Strings Bluegrass Association had an event scheduled for this weekend where I was parked (Hagan-Stone Park), so I decided to just stay put.

This evening I didn't feel much like going out to listen to the music, but I did anyway, and discovered that The Snyder Family Band was performing...right here!

Owen and a few other banjo players got to try out Tom's banjo. (Owen didn't want to give it up!) Click here for some photos.

Shakori Hills

A few weeks ago my brother Tom sent me the URL to the Shakori Hills Grassroots Festival of Music and Dance, thinking that I might be interested in it. At first glance I knew that I would be. As I read the website I became even more enthused.

The music would be enough to draw me: Donna the Buffalo, Elikem African Dance, The Duhks, Bearfoot, The Belleville Outfit, Samba Mapangala, Mountain Heart...about 50 bands total. They also have tons of events and attractions for kids and families.

The Shakori Hills fall festival is just 4 weeks away: October 8 - 11.

Next Friday and Saturday (September 18 & 19) the Hoppin' John Old-Time Bluegrass & Fiddler's Convention is happening at Shakori Hills.

Catching Up...

A couple of weeks after FloydFest ended, I volunteered at FiddleFest in Roanoke, Virginia. One performer that I really enjoyed wasn't scheduled to play. Ariel Jade just showed up and played guitar and mandolin at one of the jams. Wow! Not only can she play...she has a stage presence that I haven't seen in a kid since Billy Gilman.

I stayed up until after midnight both nights of FiddleFest...and that's way past my bedtime. By the time I got back to North Carolina I was pretty burned out...and I'm still not quite up to speed.

In the meantime, I discovered Love Valley, an old-west town in North Carolina. (See pics.) I'd like to visit again on a Friday or Saturday when the town is filled with horses and riders...but that would probably be my only other trip there. It's pretty ghetto.

This Saturday the Carolina Chocolate Drops are performing in Greensboro.

After that, the only plans that I have made is for the Hoppin' John Old-Time & Bluegrass Fiddler's Convention.