The history of nerds

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From an old advertisement

It occurred to me recently that, by now, somehow had probably written a history of nerds. I Googled. Indeed, someone has: American Nerd: The Story of My People, by Benjamin Nugent.

I have not read this book, though I’m considering buying the eBook version for my Sony Reader. I am curious to know when Nugent begins his history. As I reflect on the history of nerds (they’re my people, too), it seems to me that nerds have always been with us. It’s just a matter of figuring out who they were and what they were drawn to at any particular point in history.

American nerds, it would seem to me, burst onto the scene fully liberated and empowered when amateur radio got its start around 1900. When computers became available, ham radio ceased to be cool, though there are still plenty of hams. About 650,000 people hold amateur radio licenses in the United States, though not all of them are active. Most people have no idea how cool ham radio was, once upon a time. Just the word itself, radio, used to express the cutting edge of human progress and ambition. They named those wagons Radio Flyers because radio was cool.

Times change. Now we have digital nerds. They rule. They are highly paid. No one kicks sand in their faces.

In a sense, it seems to me, ham radio might be considered the first real democratization of nerdness. Scientists have always been nerds, but most scientists had educations and equipment that was far beyond the average person. Orville and Wilbur Wright certainly must have been nerds, as were other people who worked on inventing flying machines. But working out the science of aerodynamics, and building flying machines, was way beyond the means of most people, intellectually and financially. Thomas Edison was a nerd. Nikola Tesla was a nerd. But Edison and Tesla were uber-nerds, with tremendous resources at their disposal.

Because nerds have always been a common human type, and because the equipment and knowledge for actualizing one’s nerdness have not always been available, I have to suppose that, in the past, many nerds lived and died with no means of exploring and exercising their nerdness. They could only read books, and dream.

I find that very, very sad.

Make your TV smart

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MIT course on electricity and magnetism, iTunes

I got rid of my television when I left San Francisco, and I didn’t buy a new one until two months ago. As a movie-watching machine, I missed having a television. But I had almost forgotten how appallingly, incomprehensibly stupid broadcast television is. I don’t have cable or satellite. I just can’t justify the cost of it.

But here’s a cheap way to smarten up your television. Apple’s iTunes is available for both Macintosh and PC. The iTunes application is free to use, unless you buy a song, or a movie, or a television show through iTunes. It comes installed on Macintoshes, of course, but you can download it for your PC. In addition to songs and videos for sale, iTunes also has a lot of free content in the form of audio and video podcasts. There is also “iTunes U” — podcast courses from ivy league schools like Harvard, MIT, and Stanford. I’ve been downloading the courses on physics and electrical engineering, but there’s also history, literature, language, health and medicine, etc.

You can watch these podcasts on your Macintosh or PC, of course. But I prefer to watch them on a larger television screen in a more comfortable room. There are two ways to get iTunes video to your television. You can use your computer to burn a DVD, and then play the DVD in your television’s DVD player. Or you can buy Apple TV, a $229 box that attaches to your television and wirelessly copies all your video and audio from iTunes to your television set. I aspire to having an Apple TV, but that has not yet come up in my miserable budget.

Downloading video over the Internet may take some time, but it gives your computer something to do when you’re not otherwise using it.

After Rome fell, brutal hardship

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Hans Holbein the Younger, “Death and the Plough”

Part of getting older, I think, is to increasingly wonder how the world came to be the way we found it. To answer some questions, to try to get to the roots of culture, one must go back a very long time. Just now I’m trying to better understand what happened after the fall of Rome.

Most histories of Rome leave off around 410 A.D., when Alaric I, king of the Visigoths, thoroughly sacked Rome. Or 476 A.D., when the last western emperor was deposed by a Germanic chieftain. What happened then? How did the conditions of medieval Europe unfold out of the ruins of Rome?

I just finished a book on this period. It’s The Fall of Rome and the End of Civilization, by Bryan Ward-Perkins, Oxford University Press, 2005.

With historians, there are trends. For example, a history of Rome written a hundred years ago will probably be an administrative and military history of Rome. The Roman record will be accepted with little challenge and skepticism, and profound questions probably will not be asked.

According to Ward-Perkins, a new trend of Roman histories arose starting around the 1960s. Many historians of that era questioned whether Rome really fell at all. Rather, they saw medieval Europe evolving or “transforming” smoothly and nonviolently into the medieval world. Ward-Perkins does not agree with that view, and the purpose of this book, really, is to challenge that idea.

Ward-Perkins does this partly by invoking the archeological record. Much of this archeological work is new and was not available to earlier historians. It is dull data, but very revealing:

— Coins: How many were found, and when, and where?

— High quality pottery: Who had it, who didn’t and when did it disappear?

— Cattle: How fat were they during the pre-Roman, Roman, and post-Roman eras? (This can be determined from the bones.)

— Tile roofs: Who had them and who didn’t, and when did they disappear?

— Buildings: How big were they, and were they made of timber, or stone?

We know that, by the 6th century, Germanic tribes had moved into the Roman territories and had taken control — the Lombards into Italy, the Franks into northern France, the Saxons into southern and eastern Britain. The Roman army was no more. The Roman administrative system also was dead, the system that had kept the trade routes open, the infrastructure working, and merchandise flowing into the provinces along the Roman roads. The provinces were now on their own, with new Germanic chieftains in control.

Ward-Perkins’ view is that what happened from the 6th to the 8th century was not a smooth “transformation.” It was a catastrophe. The food supply, which had depended on trade and shipping, dropped sharply. In some areas, for lack of food, the population fell by as much as 75 percent. Coins vanished. No one had good Roman pottery anymore. Buildings became small, and they were built of perishable materials like wood and thatch. Cattle, which had been big and fat during the Roman era, became fewer, and skinny. The archeological record shows that people became poor and miserable. There was widespread violence, strife, and crime.

Adaptation to the new conditions was slow. Some technologies that were lost (such as high quality pottery made on a wheel) did not reappear again until centuries later. Food production did not return to Roman levels until centuries later. Literacy collapsed. The security and order that had been maintained by the Roman troops was gone. In Ward-Perkins’ view, what followed the fall of Rome truly was a dark age.

Ward-Perkins elaborates on the price of specialization and complexity in the Roman economy. Even in the more remote provinces such as northern France and Britain, people did not need to produce locally everything that was needed because so much could be bought so cheaply from so far away and brought in over the Roman roads, or by ship. When that was no longer possible, the improverished and now isolated local people found that they no longer had the skills and infrastructure to produce what they needed to maintain anything like their former standard of living. It took centuries to recover those skills. Until those skills were recovered, there was deprivation and misery.

Ward-Perkins does not use the term, but one could say that the Dark Ages were a period of relocalization following the failure of what was, for that time, a globalized economy.

Ward-Perkins writes:

“Comparison with the contemporary western world is obvious and important. … We sit in our tiny productive pigeon-holes … and we are wholly dependent for our needs on thousands, indeed hundreds of thousands, of other people spread around the globe, each doing their own little thing. We would be quite incapable of meeting our needs locally, even in an emergency.

“The enormity of the economic disintegration that occurred at the end of the empire was almost certainly a direct result of this specialization. The post-Roman world reverted to levels of economic simplicity, lower even than those of the pre-Roman times, with little movement of goods, poor housing, and only the most basic of manufactured items. The sophistication of the Roman period, by spreading high-quality goods widely in society, had destroyed the local skills and local networks that, in pre-Roman times, had provided lower-level economic complexity. It took centuries for people in the former empire to reacquire the skills and the regional networks that would take them back to these pre-Roman levels of sophistication.”

That, I believe, is stuff worth thinking about.

Audiophilia on a budget

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Infinity SM 152 speakers, made around 1994

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Pioneer SX-3500, made in 1980

The Metropolitan Opera International Radio Network opened its radio season today with Puccini’s Il Trittico. It’s the 79th season of Metropolitan Opera broadcasts, and it’s the longest running classical program in radio history. Lucky for me, I have a new sound system on which to listen to it.

I would not say I’m a true audiophile. I’m way too poor to be an audiophile. There’s no limit to what you can spend on sound systems. But I’ve been to an awful lot of concerts in my life, and when some of the sound in recorded music is missing, or distorted, listening to music is not much fun. I stopped at a second-hand shop in Madison yesterday, and they had a giveaway price on two Infinity SX 152 speakers and a Pioneer SX-3500 tuner/amplifier. The speakers, each of which weighs almost a hundred pounds, each has a 15-inch woofer, two midrange drivers, and a tweeter. The balance controls on the front of the speakers really work. The Pioneer SX-3500 amplifier is a nice match for these speakers. I have a weakness for 1980s electronics. The 1980s was a great period in electronics manufacturing, and prices for 25-year-old electronics are low.

The Saturday broadcasts from the Metropolitan Opera have an exciting, old-fashioned feel, a live performance. It’s what radio used to be, and ought to be.

Ruralpolitans?

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Wall Street Journal

I have often wondered why we weren’t seeing more signs of a dropout movement, or a back-to-the-land movement, during this economic downturn. Maybe it’s happening. The Wall Street Journal had a piece this week about migration to rural areas, calling these back-to-the-landers “ruralpolitans.” It’s a rational thing to do. And yes, having the Internet makes it easier and diminishes the feeling of isolation.

George Bernard Shaw's "St. Joan"

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Winston-Salem Journal

I was surprised to read in this morning’s Winston-Salem Journal that the UNC School of the Arts is doing George Bernard Shaw’s play St. Joan. Those of you who are in this area might want to consider going.

As the director says, quoted by the Journal, “Nothing has changed since Joan’s time.” I have read this play a couple of times, but I have never seen it produced. I plan to post in the future on the story of Joan of Arc and why her story matters so much to us moderns.

And by the way, it seems the casting is going to be great. We don’t really know what Joan looked like, but based on references in the historical record and the genetics of the peasants in her part of France, it is safe to assume that she was short and dark-haired. She may not have been very pretty, because the many soldiers she was around seemed to have trouble leaving her alone. But obviously she radiated charisma.

Refrigerator poem

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A company named Fridge Fun in Santa Rosa, California, makes magnetic poetry kits for refrigerator doors. One such kit includes 240 words taken from Shakespeare. One arranges the magnetic words to make one’s own poems. I had one of these kits on my refrigerator door in San Francisco, and a friend had written a 15-line poem on the door. When I moved, I couldn’t bring myself to disassemble the poem, so I transferred the magnetic words one by one to a cookie sheet to preserve the poem. I finally got around to typing the poem into the computer.

Refrigerator poem

All errors lost in this world
Hath always love as a stage.
Thus such human sorrow protests
Wicked men who dream
About created women

What torture shall plague it self unto
Brave riddance whence I am damned
For playing love’s rotten pomp
Discretion will own me nothing:
Trouble never toileth too much mercy

Pray thine rose dost kill bad art
‘Tis mad the night’s flesh became
Alas ambition breaks when a new light is made
Fit and true in me
My most strained heart is good for thee.

— James Michael Gregg, San Francisco, 2005

Just for fun, here are the very few words left over from the kit that were not used in this poem: Part, Circumstance, It, Was, The, At, Neither, Philosopher, Nor, Borrower, Lend, Comedy, An, Home.

Tragedy and pathos

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Reading up on the news this morning, as usual, I read that people by the millions spent much of the afternoon yesterday watching a balloon chase, thinking that a little boy was inside the balloon. Later they learned that there was really no drama at all, and that it might have been a hoax.

I wish that every American had a chance to participate in a sport that English majors take very seriously: Sitting around with other lovers of stories and discussing the question “What is the meaning of this story?”

The boy-in-the-balloon story was never much of a story. It’s even a boring story, and if I had been watching cable TV (I don’t have cable TV) I would have clicked right past it.

Orson Scott Card is one of the few people — or few writers, for that matter — who has a well developed theory of stories. Card believes that stories are a basic human need, that people are constantly hungry for stories. People are so hungry for stories, he believes, that we require stories every day, like food and water. But Card also recognizes that there are good stories and stories that are not so good. If people can’t get good stories, they will consume bad stories.

And so, as stories go, the boy-in-the-balloon story was a junk-food story, high in cable-TV calories but low in nutrition. It contained no meaning. It was pathos. It was merely pathetic.

Meaningless stories about pathos are very different from stories that contain elements of tragedy. Senseless loss of life happens every day. That is always sad, but it is not always tragic. Try as we may, we can’t find much meaning in senseless loss of life. If there is a tragic element (and therefore meaning) in, say, sudden loss of life in a car accident, a large part of the existential element is its very senselessness and meaninglessness. “That’s all? That’s it?” we might ask ourselves.

Some troublemaker in the back of the class pipes up with a question. “What about the senseless death of Princess Diana in a car accident? Did that have any meaning?” He has a smirk on his face as he asks the question, expecting to see his classmates get themselves into knots to try to argue that there was some kind of meaning in Princess Diana’s death.

“No,” says a boy in the front row. “There was no meaning. It was just that she was famous. And pretty.”

But a not-very-pretty girl in glasses, who has read lots of stories about princesses, speaks up. “Princess Diana’s death had pathetic elements, certainly. But it was a tragedy,” she says. “Because her life was a modern fairy tale. She showed millions of people that to be royal had nothing to do with the parents you happened to be born to. To be a princess is about who you are, or what you became. A true princess shines brighter than the dullard prince she married, brighter than the queen. Diana tried to make the world a better place. When she died, it was as though we knew her. She was the people’s princess. When she left us, we were more alone somehow. Her light was so bright that it helped us all to see. Without her, we are on our own now, like children in the woods. We have no princess anymore, unless we can find that princess inside our own selves.”

If you ask Orson Scott Card why a writer would kill off a character that the reader has fallen in love with, this is what he’d say. That in a good story, a beloved character dies so that the reader, missing that character and grieving for that character, will make that character a part of himself or herself. The reader will be changed.

Once upon a time, when I worked on a newspaper copy desk, we actually had serious discussions about where to play a particular story. “People will want to read it,” we might say, “But it’s pure pathos. It has no meaning.” And so we would bury the story.

I don’t think news people have discussions like that very much anymore. On television, and on the web, if it bleeds, it leads.

That’s why I don’t watch the news on television. It isn’t worth the time, because they have too many cameras and pathetic taste in stories.

Over the river and through the woods

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Round trip — more than 100 miles

I drove to Yadkin County today to visit family. It was good weather for photography, and the leaves were just beginning to turn, so I figured it was a good day to document the route from northern Stokes County, where I live, to the Yadkin Valley, where most of my family live, and where I grew up.

When I made the decision to move to Stokes County from California, it was after much deliberation. I weighed many factors. It’s hard to get to northern Stokes County. The roads are narrow, and crooked. Most people would need a map. It’s not a place where a commuter would want to live. But to me, these were positives, not negatives. I wanted to find a sweet spot between remoteness and access to commercial and medical centers. If I want to shop at Whole Foods, I can get to one (in Winston-Salem) in about an hour. If I needed to get to a major medical center, that’s also about an hour by road, but a few minutes by helicopter. And they do have helicopters.

If I want to visit family in Yadkin County, I have to drive for more than an hour. But what a drive it is. The route crosses two rivers (the Dan and the Yadkin), and runs through the shadows of the Sauratown Mountain range. Stokes County is so isolated that it has its own little isolated mountain range! It’s some of the best scenery to be found in the Yadkin Valley and the Blue Ridge foothills.

So here’s a photographic essay on the trip from my house to my mother’s house in Yadkin County. For the sake of photographic honesty, please be aware that I have focused on the picturesque and the historic. There’s plenty of plainness and a certain amount of rural squalor along the way. But why takes pictures of that?

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Leaving home. Now that the house is done, I need to get started on the landscaping, don’t I?

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The unpaved road above my house, past a neighbor’s horse pasture

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Priddy’s General Store, which appeared in the cult film Cabin Fever

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The Dan River at Danbury

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The Dan River at Danbury

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This building in Danbury was once a church. Now AA meets there, according to the sign out front.

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The old Stokes County courthouse

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I believe this used to be the Danbury town hall. Now it’s a lawyer’s office.

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A historic marker in Danbury

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The entrance to Hanging Rock State Park, a few miles from Danbury. Just as in California, state parks are often under-appreciated, and awesome.

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Hanging Rock, from Moore’s Spring Road

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Hanging Rock, also from Moore’s Spring Road

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Approaching Pilot Mountain. Do you know the word “monadnock”? Culturally, the thing to know about Pilot Mountain is that it was called “Mount Pilot” in the Andy Griffith Show. This is Mayberry Country, remember.

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Old mill at Pinnacle. Pinnacle was the setting for the indie movie Junebug.

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Pilot Mountain, looking over the roof of the Pinnacle post office

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A pumpkin patch on the south side of Pilot Mountain

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Coming into Siloam

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An old storefront in Siloam. If agricultural tourism and the popularity of the Yadkin Valley Wine Region ever reach critical mass, what a great little restaurant this would make.

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Across the road from the Siloam storefront. I have no idea what this little building is, but it must have some historical importance, because someone keeps it up.

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Siloam will probably forever remain known for the night of Feb. 23, 1975, when an old suspension bridge across the Yadkin River collapsed, killing four people and injuring 16. This is the new bridge.

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The Yadkin River at Siloam

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The big house at Siloam. Grand farms were not the rule in this area. Small family farms were much more common. But Siloam clearly was once a hot spot. Not only was there fertile land in the river bottom, but there was also a railway line. It clearly was enough to make a few farmers rich.

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Pilot Mountain again, when I passed it on my way home

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The history of this area — at least the agricultural history — is best read in the remaining outbuildings. Certainly more than a few big barns like this one remain. More modest barns on the old family farms are common, and hundreds if not thousands of old tobacco barns remain. Still, an untold number of fine old outbuildings have fallen down and rotted away.

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The south side of Hanging Rock State Park, on my way home