Eric The Blue

Lunching out

I usually work, without taking a lunch, till about 1 o'clock, and notwithstanding the morning oatmeal am famished when walking out of school. Luckily the most direct route home takes me past some favorite eateries that I haven't visited since pre-pandemic times. Today it was Kramarczuk's, where I had the cabbage roll pictured above, with rye bread and the side of cucumber, tomato, and onions in a vinegar dressing. If I remember right, it was about $12 for everything. Regarding the bread: delicious, but back in the day you just served yourself from the plastic bags left open by the napkins and stuff, and they'd bring out new loaves when either the rye or pumpernickel was depleted. Now if you want bread they give you three slices from the loaf they keep on their side of the cafeteria line. Probably shouldn't complain since my own habits may have played a part in the development of the new policy. 

After spending the morning around 4th- and 5th-graders and their mostly 30ish teachers, it was nice to dine surrounded by mature Slavs—maybe I'm not next in line for extinction, after all. I'm sort of curious about where they come from, however. They used to live in the neighborhood, which is now specked with high rises that are presumably home to the young professionals who may be seen walking their designer dogs while on a work break from the home office. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s no longer possible to buy a case of High Life at Surdyk's, the neighborhood liquor store that now includes a cheese shoppe. For gazillions of my out-of-town readers, Kramarczuk's is in "lower northeast" Minneapolis, just across the Hennepin Avenue bridge from downtown. It used to be inhabited by people with names like, well, Kramarczuk, who would have had no use for local businesses such as "Base Camp Fitness."

I like how, if you click on "salads" at Kramarczuk's online menu, the first listing is for "American Potato" and the second is for "German Potato." You can have kale but you'll have to scroll. 

One day last week I lunched at Emily's Lebanese Deli, about a mile up University Avenue, almost to Broadway, where nordeast still looks like nordeast. I had some kind of a combo platter and was reminded that, though famous for liking everything, the stuffed grape leaf isn't among my all-time favorites. I'll go back, but maybe not before I've had the Bar Burger at the bar in Jax. Seventeen dollars, but what the hell, I used to get by without a part-time job. Might have a beer with it. 

Queens and princes, senators and footballers

Stunned to read that Prince Andrew didn't want Charles to be King, and even lobbied the Queen to implement a work-around. Big, if true. 

Been reading about Brett Favre, too. Maybe I should be thankful that I don't have a butt-load of money as no Republican official would ever think to tempt me with a scheme whereby a few million dollars intended for impoverished Mississippians gets “misdirected” to my accounts. Apparently Favre's defense is that he had no idea where the money came from. Plausible—but, if he's that dumb, he should run for US Senate, like Herschel Walker. In a few years, then, the three stupidest senators could be Tommy Tuberville (former head football coach at Ole Miss and Auburn), Herschel Walker (former star running back at the University of Georgia), and Brett Favre (former star quarterback at Southern Mississippi). I realize Favre isn't running for high office, but he's grifting, so it's only a matter of time.

Before disagreeing, note that I said stupidest, not vilest. The vilest is probably Ted Cruz, of Texas. I'm going through the SEC in my head, thinking of their schools and senators, an exercise that reminded me just now of Marsha Blackburn. She represents Tennessee in the US Senate and may be dumber than any of the footballers. Lincoln should just have let the South go. It would be okay if these blockheads were senators from another country. 

Among schoolchildren

I got a part-time job working around 20 hours per week, and I find that if I give up watching Twins games on TV, a sacrifice like swearing off the picking of scabs, I have as much time as before to read, sleep, walk the dog, and do my best to help with 6th- and 9th-grade math homework in the evenings. Lots of math, actually, since my gig is working as a math tutor at an elementary school in Columbia Heights, the suburb I grew up in.

First impression: lots more Spanish spoken than when I was growing up—I guess it's the first language, and the one still spoken at home, for around half the kids in the school, which is called Valley View. It's not the one I went to more than 50 years ago, but the building footprint is identical to the one I did attend less than a mile away, and the experience of being in there is the flip side to what I felt recently when stopping at an exurban Target with the same layout as the one by my house: it all seems familiar, but it's weird that everyone in the store is white.

Today at Valley View I helped a girl take a math assessment on a laptop. She's black, wore a head covering, and, though I noticed on a form that the language spoken in her home is supposedly Somali, her English was fluent and unaccented. Very fluent. Perhaps another Norwegian would call her an over-sharer, one of these kids who, every time the teacher asks a question, has her hand in the air: "Oh, oh, me, call on me!" For her math assessment, she sat with one leg crossed over the other, neither one reaching the floor and the foot of her top leg vibrating rapidly as she gave her attention to each problem. After every answer, a new problem would flash up on the screen, and I'd hear her whisper to herself, "Oh my God!" Once, when she said it with particular vehemence, I peered over her shoulder to get a look at the problem: adding not two, not three, but four numbers together, and requiring (it soon developed) a fair amount of what is now called "regrouping." 

Kids crack me up. After an elementary career spent scoffing at school, my new middle-schooler now walks with friends to the neighborhood Caribou, where they do their homework together. At least that's what they tell me they're doing. They bring their backpacks and money for smoothies, so it's either largely true or a somewhat elaborate ruse. She has called me a "school nerd" but, honestly, I did my homework alone, in my room and at the last minute, if at all. 

Confession of error

This article, "Confession of Error on My Abortion Post," by a National Review writer, seems to me like the first cousin of a Freudian slip. The author, Andrew McCarthy, had criticized Sen. Lindsey Graham's call for a federal abortion ban after 15 weeks gestational age, on the ground that it would prevent states from adopting stricter limits, including comprehensive bans with no exceptions for rape such as have already been adopted in Alabama, Arkansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Mississippi, Missouri, Oklahoma, South Dakota, Tennessee, and Texas. But Graham's proposed federal law would do no such thing. States that wanted comprehensive bans could still have them. The 15-week ban would apply nationally to states that, for example, wanted to retain the same access to abortion as existed under Roe. 

My take on this is that McCarthy assumed Graham, a politician, was attempting to dress the wound the Dobbs decision has inflicted on Republican prospects in the midterms. One can imagine an agreement, advertised as a compromise, whereby Republicans, in order to secure a nationwide ban after 15 weeks, would give up the extreme measures that have been enacted in a slew of red states. If Democrats voted against such a "compromise," Republicans could then ask: Who's extreme? McCarthy, however, doesn't want red states to have to live with a mere 15-week ban, even if it might be good politics.

But he was wrong about what the senator is proposing. Graham, too, is unwilling to force red states to permit abortions up to 15 weeks after fertilization. It's worth recalling, I think, that the winning argument at the Supreme Court was that the Constitution is silent on abortion and that states therefore should be able to do as they see fit regarding abortion policy. People like McCarthy and Graham celebrated the decision, but its logic was so "summer of '22." Now it's been a few weeks, football season has begun, and it develops that only states with legislatures and governors who agree with Graham and McCarthy should be left alone to do as they see fit. Graham, especially, wants the Big Bad Federal Government to enact a national law telling Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Maryland, Rhode Island, Illinois, Minnesota, California, Oregon, Washington, Hawaii, and others that what they'd like to do, which is what they have been doing for years, is now going to be illegal. "Federalism if you agree with me; a national ban for all who don't."

It's sort of comical to see one nut having to apologize for assuming, falsely, that another nut feels constrained by logic, coherence, consistency, and an election-year wish to appear "reasonable."  

Kids go to “school,” education does not occur

We senior citizens like to think of ourselves as old hands who've seen it all, but twice a week I'm shocked by something, and one of the two for this week is going to be this article, in The New York Times, about private Jewish religious schools in New York. It begins:

The Hasidic Jewish community has long operated one of New York's largest private schools on its own terms, resisting any outside scrutiny of how its students are faring. 

But in 2019 the school, the Central United Talmudical Academy, agreed to give state standardized tests in reading and math to more than 1,000 students. 

Every one of them failed.

And continues:

The leaders of New York's Hasidic community have built scores of private schools to educate children in Jewish law, prayer and tradition—and to wall them off from the secular world. Offering little English and math, and virtually no science or history, they drill students relentlessly, sometimes brutally, during hours of religious lessons conducted in Yiddish. 

The result, a New York Times investigation has found, is that generations of children have been systematically denied a basic education, trapping many of them in a cycle of joblessness and dependency. . . .

The schools appear to be operating in violation of state laws that guaranty children an adequate education. Even so, the Times found, the Hasidic boys' schools have found ways of tapping into enormous sums of government money, collecting more than $1 billion in the past four years alone.

Maybe I’m shocked only because I’ve had a possibly exalted view of the intellectual acumen of Jews ever since I learned Albert Einstein was Jewish in the same week I heard Archie Bunker tell Edith that he didn’t want a Jewish doctor “unless I’m really sick.” Years ago I saw a movie, "Jesus Camp," about young kids sunk in the religious zealotry of the adults in their lives, and was nudged toward the view that Christian fundamentalism is child abuse. Now I’m thinking the phenomenon is ecumenical. It's outrageous that government supports with tax dollars religious schools that aren't teaching kids any math or science or literature (besides the Bible) while the politicians most eager to give them money are complaining about test scores at public schools and purging the libraries of books fundamentalists don't want to read. You can disagree with me, but I don´t want to hear from you till you’ve solved a problem from my 9th-grade public school kid’s math homework tonight:

Write an equation for the parabola that cuts the x-axis at 3, passes through (5, 12), and has an axis of symmetry at x = 2.

Apparently the children of Hasidim would benefit from being subjected to a standard form of adolescent torture that their elders, though plenty cruel, are in no position even to imagine.

Kids follow the news

I remember sometimes getting annoyed at people who would regale me with stories about their charming children. It's not necessarily your turn now, because there's still time to click the back button.

I have a 6th-grader and a 9th-grader, both girls. On Thursdays, the 6th-grader has a piano lesson at 6:30. I don't like trying to fit supper into the window before music, and even less do I enjoy thinking about what to make for supper while driving home from the lesson after 7:00. So it occurred that last night about 7:30 we were taking our usual Thursday night seats at the Lowbrow when the 9th-grader's phone dinged. Because she's socially ambitious and admires all her sister's friends, the 6th-grader immediately demanded to know who the text was from. Without looking up from her phone, the 9th-grader adopted a practiced tone of jaded indifference and answered:

"What if I tell you who it isn't from? It isn't from the Queen of England."

On the road

I guess the state of New Jersey is attempting to edify motorists by posting signs like this at rest stops along the Garden State Turnpike.

Since a liberal arts education is worthless but for the rare occasion it allows you to shake your damn head while contemplating the work product of people who’ve landed an 8-5 office job, I'm not going to suppress the urge to note that the sign's claim is dubious for several reasons, including:

1. Aristotle was born after Socrates died, which would have made it hard for the two of them to speak over one another, on arête or anything else; and
2. Socrates, the first of the three to be born, was executed in 399 BC, so the date of the fake quote is off by a couple thousand years. 

It'll all be forgiven if the rest rooms are clean.

'Twas the night before

It's the night before the first day of school—potentially fraught and maybe more than usual at our house as younger daughter is starting middle school tomorrow and older one is starting high school. Right now they are fighting about who will shower first, because the one who goes second has to wipe it down. I don't think this issue has arisen before. In the past, the argument has always ended with someone saying, "Ok, I just won't take one then." The response to that has sometimes been, "Ok, I won't either." You know it's a big night when strength of inclination to shower tops the aversion factor associated with performing a 3-minute chore. The old tactic has been retired and the fight has moved to new ground. 

I have to say that the coping mechanisms employed to mitigate stress are kind of charming. The older one told me today that she and her friend discovered that they have their first- and second-hour classes together. "So," she explained, beaming, "if we get lost going from English to Science, we'll be tardy together, and it will be a lot less awkward." Younger one almost always adopts an attitude of aloof indifference when being lectured by older sister, but this evening, at supper, she listened attentively to every bit of advice that a recent grad could offer. Any port in a storm. 

I have to do laundry. Final decisions haven't been made and all options must be available.

UPDATE: As I was saying good night to them, the high schooler got a text from an old elementary school friend. They've lost touch with each other to a degree: the friend was home schooled after having a difficult transition to middle school, so for a few years has been removed somewhat from the social mix. But now she's going back to high school. Her text, which came in about 11:15, said: "Want to eat lunch with me tomorrow?" Apparently "orientation night" was a disorganized disaster but here's hoping that in around twelve hours these two can find the lunchroom and each other. 

#tardytogether
#bekind

Twins in August

The Twins in August were a .500 club, 14 wins and 14 losses. You might think that a team in contention for a divisional title would go backwards with a record like that over 28 games, but the Twins place in the Central Division standings did not change: they were a game behind the division leading Cleveland Guardians on August 1, and they were a game behind them on September 1, too. A local sportswriter, taking note of this fact, set out yesterday the records of the contending teams over the last 65 games:

Guardians  32-33
White Sox  32-33
Twins         31-34

Well, that's what it's been like all year. Here are the same teams over the course of the whole season, a couple days into September:

Guardians    68-62
Twins           67-64
White Sox    67-66

I was watching the Twins one evening in the middle of August when TV color guy Justin Morneau declared, "One of these teams is going to get hot and win the division." It's true that one of them is going to win the division. I have no idea why he thinks one of the teams is sure to "get hot." Over five months none has. Seems more likely to me that the sixth month will be like the other five. My candidate for color commentary is, "One of these teams is going to win the division by going 17-14 over a thrilling stretch drive." (It's your job to hype interest with expressions like "thrilling stretch drive.")

The Twins' problems aren't obscure. With Buxton and Polanco not playing, the bottom of their batting order is anemic. For the last couple nights, it's been Cave, Sanchez, Celestino. I love pulling for all three, as I have personal reasons for identifying with players who struggle, but facts are facts, and these guys' OPSs are, respectively, .674, .677, and .635. Since Sanchez is our regular catcher, and catchers aren't really expected to hit, let's swap him out for Kepler: day after day, then, we have in our outfield, at the start of "the stretch drive," Celestino (.635) between Cave (.674) and Kepler (.680). To help you get your bearings, the overall OPS in the major leagues so far this year is .707, and outfielders are expected to hit.

Then there is our pitching. After a good April and May, it's been a weakness, and the team was praised for adding three proven pitchers at the August 2 trade deadline. But the trio's results in Twin uniforms—maybe the word is "mixed." Jorge Lopez, for whom expectations were perhaps highest, has four saves but also a loss and two blown saves in 12 games as a Twin. Tyler Mahle got roughed up in Chicago tonight, his first start after being removed from an August game with a sore shoulder and diminished fast ball. Michael Fullmer has been good, not great, which is to say: he's added needed depth. I'm pretty sure we weren't expecting to have half our August games started by either Chris Archer, Dylan Bundy, or Aaron Sanchez, and it's fortunate that all three are doing about as well as could be reasonably hoped. We were 6-8 in their starts, 8-6 in games started by Joe Ryan, Sonny Gray, or Mahle. 

If the Twins weren't in contention, I'd still turn on the TV about 1.5 hours after starting time in hopes of seeing Jhoan Duran pitch. Omg, wtf, etc.! In the last week of August, he pitched in three games, one inning each time, nine up and nine down on four strikeouts and some weak grounders. For the year, his ERA is sub-2 and his WHIP barely registers. He has 11.5 strikeouts and two walks per nine innings pitched. These numbers, however, aren't as telling as the way opposing hitters will take a Duran pitch, then step out of the batter's box to share a laugh with the catcher and umpire. Apparently 102 mph with late diving action is detectable in person, too.  To have a chance, I think you'd have to be able to swing an ironing board.