Settling in

Some of the immediate frenzy of moving in is dying down and we're beginning to feel "at home" in our house. Today I felt rather domestic: sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor, washing the dishes, hanging laundry out to dry in our own yard, picking (a few--Dan did most of the work) plums off our plum tree . . . incidentally, we're swimming in plums just now, and will be even more so when the rest come ripe in a week or so. Anyone who lives close want some? And it looks like we have a couple more trees with a slightly different variety of plum, plus apples and peaches to come later on . . . I have to confess I'm just a little overwhelmed at the thought of so much fruit. Bubby has been making lots of jam from our plums, but I'm not quite sure what *I* want to do with all of it . . . (I'm reminded of a silly joke from a children's book we had growing up: "We eat what we can, and what we can't, we can!")

There's a nice little playground set just around the corner from us at the local elementary school: it's just about perfect for our two. Even Evelyn can climb around through the tunnels--there's an intertwined pair, one going down and one going over the top of this that Andrew and Evelyn both love: Andrew will climb over the top one and say, "I'm climbing over sister!" And Evelyn just slides down the lower one and has to get hauled back up out of the pit at the bottom. We've been three times this week, I think. Yesterday afternoon I took both kids while Dan was gone with his parents to pick up his brother at the Vegas airport. When we got home, I discovered that Evelyn was missing a shoe, so we walked all the way back and discovered it still on the school grounds. I put both shoes in the back pocket of the stroller so as not to lose one again, and got home the second time to find, again, only one shoe. This time, I left both children playing in Andrew's room and ran down to the end of the block--luckily, this time her shoe was only a few houses down. But still! I can't help wondering if the shoe is somehow possessed . . .

In other random musings, I've been reading a lot of Alexander McCall Smith recently (of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency)--mostly his other series (the Isabel Dalhousie books and 44 Scotland Street and its sequel, Espresso Tales). I find that I really enjoy them, not only for the vivid characterizations and evocations of place, but for his musings over moral philosophy (an interest I'm realizing retrospectively that he also indulges in in the Ladies Detective series, but less overtly--the characters embody moral explorations, rather than discuss them). I find myself agreeing with many of his moral assessments--especially regarding the need for moral actions--and more interested than I would have expected by the idea of moral philosophy. It's too bad moral and philosophical analysis has gone out of vogue in literature studies, as these would make an interesting set of books to analyze.

But I think what I like most is his knack of articulating so clearly things that I've thought about, but in less succinct terms. For instance, in the most recent book I've read (am still reading), an older woman talks with a younger one about the idea of judgment, dismissing the idea that you shouldn't judge others, because we do, and must, on a constant basis in order for society to function. It's the kind of judgments we make that we need to be careful of. But certain judgments, moral judgments, are essential. (It reminds me of the JST: "Judge not *unrighteously*").

And here is another passage that I want to quote in full, because I like it so much. I've always been interested in the paradoxical viewpoints about "progress" that surround me. For instance, some would claim (and to some extent, rightly), that the world is much better now than it was fifty or a hundred years ago--that there is less racism, sexism, colonialism, etc., or at least that we have become more aware of the inherent problems in these various "isms." On the other hand, the church is quite clear about the fact that the world is degenerating in moral terms. So how to reconcile (or should we?) these contradicting views? Is the world getting better or worse? Or a little of both? While I appreciate the increasing attentiveness to the rights of others, I think that we have actually lost something in terms of more old fashioned morals: courtesy to others, consideration (less selfishness), personal integrity, not to mention morality in its most fundamental sense (i.e., a belief that sexual purity and fidelity is a good thing). So here's this passage I like (again from the older woman, who in many respects seems to be articulating a philosophy most approved by the narrator/author):

"I have the feeling that we've seen the dismantling of civilisation, brick by brick, and now we're looking att the void. We thought that we were liberating people from oppressive cultural circumstances, but we were, in fact, taking something away from them [she refers here to the levelling effect of globalization]. We were killing off civility and concern. We were undermining all those little ties of loyalty and consideration and affection that are necessary for human flourishing. We thought that tradition was bad, that it created hidebound societies, that it held people down. But, in fact, what tradition was doing all along was affirming community and the sense that we are members one of another. Do we really love and respect one another more in the absense of tradition and manners and all the rest? Or have we merely converted one another into moral strangers--making our countries nothing more than hotels for the convenience of guests who are required only to avoid stepping on the toes of other guests?"

Profound, isn't it? And so much better said than what I muddled through earlier. At any rate, I recommend his books! (And incidentally, find it interesting how some philosophers--with little or no religious leanings--are still so preoccupied with the question of morality. George Eliot, despite being agnostic at best, remains one of the most moral 19th century writers I know of.)