snowman comics

I have a working hypothesis that any comic involving a snowman is automatically funny. My earliest recollection of this phenomenon was a cartoon from National Lampoon showing a snowman police officer lifting a sheet to reveal a puddle as a very sad snow person looked at the mess underneath. No words but huge hilarity. Of course Calvin & Hobbes make use of snowmen to great effect. There are probably a few snowman comics that are not all that funny. But here's another one that landed in my lap and it made me LOL. Not sure I even want to dissect the reason as I am content to accept it as is.

exertion

A few years back, we did a study of future teachers and about their view about teaching science as well as being effective with students of color. Most striking was how strong their confidence was about their competence -- on the first day of their only course about how to teach science. Since then, I have valued the potential for self-doubt and uncertainty as powerful mechanisms to promote learning and change. I am usually untroubled when someone expresses frustration because I have a tendency to believe that such discomfort is the very force that will propel them forward. On the other hand, I recognize that confidence and persistence have great power and this power comes from successful experiences. Therein stands the tantalizing tension somewhere between the already-done and the yet-to-know.

Yesterday this became especially clear as we prepared to hike a section of the Appalachian trail on snowshoes. It was an out-and-back trip of about an hour but the temperature was really cold. Plus, we had not been able to do genuine backcountry snowshoeing in five or more years. We had all the necessary equipment and believed we were sufficiently fit. Plus, the altitude was about 10% of what we had flourished in when we kicked powder in the Wasatch Range. Nevertheless, the bindings were awfully cold, our first attempt to ascend was far too steep, and snow was creeping into gaps in my clothing. One finger was especially cold and I was sure that if I removed that glove, it would be the color and consistency of lead. But we found a trail going the opposite direction that was open to hikers, skiers and snowshoers. Someone (and it looked like only one) had blazed a trail. Because the blaze markings on trees were white, our unknown guide must have been familiar with the route.

We were finally underway having established a comfortable stride. The sky was overcast at 10 a.m. and there were no large breaks through which we could absorb spectacular views. Now we’d found our groove which coincided with the path cut into the deep snow. Toes and fingers warmed. It became fun and comfortable. However, because of the conditions, the cold could begin to creep in if we dallied in place. While the gloves were almost too warm, taking the off was not an option because of the recent memory of dull metallic flesh. As long as we pushed forward, we could deal with the elements. Having hiked far enough uphill, we broke new trails coming back down. There were several moments where the platform of the snowshoe floated on the snow’s surface so I many steps were more like glides that clomps. And I did get moving too fast, once grabbing to a tree trunk that noted my presence with a heavy dumping of snow on my head and into my collar.

It occurred to me that what made this excursion so fun was a combination of boldness and caution. First, rather than become too worried about my cold extremities I literally plowed forward. The excursion itself, in the face of bitter and indifferent surroundings, generated the heat to keep me going. And yet when there was insufficient exertion, the cold and emptiness and gray pressed in on me. All of which suggests that we have to keep moving to stay warm and alive. The trick, I suppose, is to not exert so heavily that we exhaust ourselves. But moving at the right pace is necessary to remind and ensure us that we are living.

dave brubeck (sob)

Because there was nothing else better to do and since I knew most of the people being awarded, we watched the Kennedy Center Honors the other night. The one awardee I didn't know was an opera star, Grace Bumbry. The others were an actor (Robt De Niro), a comedian (Mel Brooks), a rocker (Bruce Springsteen) and a jazz musician: Dave Brubeck. All the tributes were great even though no one was quite able to cause any of the mega-stars to tear up. Carl Reiner and Mel Brooks look really old but they are still poking at each other in ways that only long-time friends can. Makes me long for an outlet to perform the 2000 Year Old Education Researcher.

I was surprised by how much praise they heaped onto Dave Brubeck. In my brief and immature jazz appreciation history, Brubeck followed Vince Guaraldi who I will always associate with Christmas-time and dancing with abandon. But I never imagined Brubeck was such a trailblazer and innovator. I thought he was playing "nice" jazz with a regular beat (except for Take Five) and with a melody I could follow. But in his day, he was breaking all kinds of new ground -- even as a white guy who walked the Earth when other magnificent jazz musicians were around.

It was interesting to see who they paraded out for each honoree. For Bruce, Ron Kovic literally rolled out as the author of Born on the Fourth of July. Ben Stiller was among those going at De NIro and Jon Stewart was unable to conceal his adoration for Springsteen. But again, those who were at the center of attention seemed content but not overwhelmed. Maybe being adored that much just gets to be normal after awhile?

However, there was a moment I won't soon forget (and if I do, it's now forever on the InterWeb). It starts nicely enough when Dave Brubeck's band is performing. Great medley of very familiar tunes. Then the US Army Jazz Band joins the quintet on stage. They are in uniform and although good musicians, they are stiff as ... well, soldiers. There are some glorious cuts away to the Obamas (Michelle and her hubby) who are clearly enjoying the music. Dave Brubeck is having a pretty good time, too. But the moment is when a piece of the stage set slides back to reveal who the announcer indicates are the four sons of Dave Brubeck. The old guy is blown away. Anybody can read his lips. If you watch carefully, he almost forgets to breathe and is unsure what to do with his hands.

There is pure delight when the first son gives a jazz trombone solo, utter pride when Son #2 has a piano solo. And when the cellist's solo begins, even Dave Brubeck leans forward to take it all in: jazz cello?! As it continues, his grin becomes so large his cheeks all but squeeze his eyes shut. They conclude with a rendition of Happy Birthday because, as Herbie Hancock earlier revealed, it was Dave's birthday. The performance was really good -- but Dave Brubeck had the most fun of anyone. THAT is how to recognize someone's accomplishments!