scottraymondnet: summer 2001

20010913

This Tuesday, I sat on my couch and watched the coverage of the unfolding horror on the east coast. My range of emotions, probably like yours, passed from disbelief and confusion to shock, sadness, anger, and on to still deeper sadness. By early afternoon, I felt helpless-- unable to be helped, and unable to help. My friend Levi felt the same way, and we told each other we wished we could be there; we wanted to help, somehow, and we wanted to understand. Within thirty minutes, we got in the car and headed east. We weren't exactly sure why we were going; we thought that it was foolish, but we felt that it was right. If only we could help someone, just a little bit. I told him that the reason I was going was to find out why I had gone.

Some sixteen hours later, I stopped in Somerset, Pennsylvania, eight miles away from one of the plane crashes. I talked to a man whose house was rattled by the blast. From there, we drove into Washington, to check on a friend who lives there. The city felt, in many ways, like a war zone-- military helicopters constantly circling overhead, masses of police and security men, barricades, and too many flags at half-mast to count. That night, the Pentagon was still smoldering from a gaping hole, and a crowd looked on with hushed voices.

From that scene, we went directly to New York. By this morning, when I arrived in Lower Manhattan, the police weren't letting anyone near the damage area, but they couldn't stop the clouds of dust. Face masks were everywhere. Rescue workers covered in dust wandered out of the area, looking dazed. Missing-person posters with pictures of businessmen and women papered the subway columns.

About an hour ago, I sat in the nearly empty St. Patrick's Cathedral, attempting to comprehend the gravity of the environment. I remembered Anne Lamott saying that the two best prayers she knows are "Help me, help me, help me," and "Thank you, thank you, thank you." With that in mind, I pray this prayer for our nation.

Help us, God. Help us understand why unspeakable horror exists in the world, and how it's possible to overcome it. Help us, comfort us, soothe us, calm us, heal us. Help us grieve the loss of our countrymen; increase our love and our compassion for one another. Steer us toward righteous anger, away from hateful anger. Help us learn how to pray, God. Turn our hearts toward You, and help us never turn away. Teach us, teach us that You are our protector, our provider, our rock, our salvation. Help us not have a spirit of fear, but one of a sound mind; sound, because of our dependence on You.

Thank You, God, thank You. Thank You that You are the author of life, and are always near us, no matter how far we feel. Thank You that you have given us a country that can withstand such awful attacks without crumbling. Thank You for granting inhuman, selfless courage and endurance to rescue workers. Thank You that You hear us when we call. Thank You, God, that You promise mercy to the merciful, and comfort to the mourning.

20010911

God, help us.

20010908

Happy Birthday to fray.com, the best website in the world.

20010904

Death is Not the End
Bob Dylan

When you're sad and when you're lonely and you haven't got a friend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all that you've held sacred, falls down and does not mend
Just remember that death is no the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

When you're standing at the crossroads that you cannot comprehend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all your dreams have vanished and you don't know what's up the bend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

When the storm clouds gather 'round you, and heavy rains descend
Just remember that death is not the end
And there's no one there to comfort you, with a helpin' hand to lend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

Oh, the tree of life is growing
Where the spirit never dies
And the bright light of salvation shines
In dark and empty skies

When the cities are on fire with the burning flesh of men
Just remember that death is not the end
And you search in vain to find just one law abiding citizen
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

20010902

Now jonvw has called into question my discussion of the overt/covert pair, so I did a little research to try to back up my claim. I asked Robert Rankin, a romanticist and philologist, for his thoughts. He agrees with Jonathan:

'Covert' would certainly seem to be from French 'couvert(e)' and should be Latin 'copertus' 'covered' all right. 'Overt' is also from Fr. 'ouvert(e)' 'open' and ultimately Latin, but I don't know the Latin noun off the top of my head. The root would be related to English 'aperture', a Latin borrowing.

Finally, this passage from Historical Linguistics by R.L. Trask corroborates my claim:

overt

ouvert

covert

covered

covert

overt

20010901

jonvw asked "what exactly is a non-verbal sentence?... is there no verb at all? In which case, how can it be considered a sentence?"

Right, nonverbal sentences don't have verbs. That is, the verb isn't represented on the surface, known as a non-overt word. (You'd think they'd just call it covert, wouldn't you? But an interesting sidenote: our term overt derives from French ouvert, meaning open. However, English got covert from covered - and the pronunciation of the words shifted together because of their semantic relationship.) So anyway, in the language I'm learning, Kaqchikel, if you use a certain type of pronoun, you can drop the copula. So something like "he teacher" = "he's a teacher", and "we four" = "we are four" = "there are four of us." Of course, this happens in some varieties of American English, as well:

20010901

My New Months Resolution
is to return every call and email I get within the same day. This will be a major lifestyle shift, let me tell you, but it needs to happen.

20010831

Me: "So, with these nonverbal sentences... you can use nouns, and adjectives?..."
Professor: "And numbers."
Me: "Okay. What about verbs?"
Professor: "Uhh, no... that's why they're called nonverbal sentences."
Me: "Riiiiighhht."

20010830

It's funny, well, not really funny, it's interesting to watch what brings people together. Not specific people; I mean large groups of people. You can sit in a classroom with the same people for four months and never feel like a group, but then a completely random set of people can be caught under an overhang in a downpour and feel a strong sense of groupness. I'm not sure what the essense is there. Hmm. More later.