Last Thursday, I had the opportunity to see world renown anthropologist and primatologist (chimp-ologist?) Jane Goodall deliver a speech. It was part of this year’s Distinguished Speaker Series at Penn State University. I didn’t know much about her going into it, but after a quick browsing of her wikipedia article, I was ready and excited to hear what she had to say. Ms. Goodall spoke to a packed house at Eisenhower Auditorium. My friend Elise was kind enough to join me–either that or she took enough pity on me to come because she knew otherwise I would end up going alone. Probably the latter.
Ms. Goodall opened with a typical chimpanzee greeting. Oh-ooh-oooh-ooooh, etc. She proceeded to delight her audience (her soft English-accented voice almost lulling me to sleep) with the story of her career. I won’t go into detail but at the start, she was essentially a secretary sent into the wild by her boss, Louis Leakey. Goodall spent months at the Gombe Stream National Park before the chimpanzees warmed up to her. Towards the end of her first six month stay at Gombe, she made her first groundbreaking obersvation: David Greybeard using a blade of grass as a tool to fetch termites from their mound. Up until that point, it had been thought that only humans were capable of using tools. Thus began her seminal and influential work.
Some highlights from her speech:
- The old man next to me scribbling in his notebook
- Ms. Goodall was at one point followed by a male lion, for about 100 yards–can you imagine that? I probably would have defecated in my pantaloons. FOSY.
- Chimpanzees exhibit similar gestures and emotions as humans do: hugging, kissing, patting on back, shaking fists in anger, etc. She described a scene in which males of one chimpanzee community systematically hunted down and killed members of another chimpanzee community. She described this as a sort of “primitive warfare.” The implications of this are that humans may have inherited an instinct for war, which itself has profound implications. Ms. Goodall was quick to point out, though, that inheritance of a proclivity to war implies inheritance of other traits that chimpanzees display: love, compassion, altruism, etc. This led her to her next point that the line between humans and chimpanzees is infinitesimal, if at all existent. An interesting assertion.
- Ms. Goodall had many quotable lines in her speech, but one that stuck with me was this: “We may need money to live, but don’t live for money.”
It was a fun and entertaining speech, I’m glad I was able to see it.
I like many a thing. At the moment I especially like:
- This iced coffee sitting next to me
- The fact that I am done all my work for the next few days
- The prospect of traveling Costa Rica this summer for 12 days
- Jaco Pastorious and Weather Report
- Is There No Place on Earth for Me by Susan Sheehan
- Tomorrow is the first day of Spring
Things I am not particularly fond of at the moment:
- Another “no end in sight” campaign in Libya
- The Petroleum & Natural Gas exam I took on Friday
Exactly one year ago today–March 1, 2010–I posted my 2010 reading list. I’m proud to say I actually read many of the titles that appear on that list. I read some others, too. So, here’s my reading list for the foreseeable future. If you have any recommendations please leave them in the comments!
- Infinite Jest – David Foster Wallace
- A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius – Dave Eggers
- Manhunt – James Swanson (this has definitely appeared in the past–I think this will make good summer evening reading)
- Nullification: How to Resist Tyranny in the 21st Century – Thomas E. Woods
That’s enough for now. The Wallace book alone is 1000+ pages, should keep me busy for a while.
“I don’t care where you’re from, home is always they warmest place around.”
He shut the barn door carefully, silently as possible. The tree line was not too far off, he thought, he’d be alright. It was dawn, Christmas morning.
–
He awoke, started from his sleep by the abrupt end to his dream. He’d had enough of these dreams to have the presence of mind (even in sleep) to remain laying down–sitting up caused his wife to stir. Normally he’d fall back asleep relatively easily. But lately it’s been different, lately he hasn’t been able to get back asleep at all. No particular reason, sleep has simply not come easily. He’d spend hours laying silently, coveting the warmth from the wife beside him. The old house was drafty in December.
But tonight, sleep was not coming at all.
His bare feet landed on the dusty wood floors with particular care, a trained habit. It’s the little things that make up love. He needed a drink, or to check on the kids–or to use the bath room. Something, anything, to get him out of bed. The kitchen seemed the most logical place to go: you could survey most of the floorplan, including the kids’ rooms, while making your way to the nucleus of the household.
He had succeeded on getting out of his room quietly enough so as his wife would wake, he thought. Down the steps, careful not to put his hands on the squeaky banister at this hour.
The fluorescent glow of the kitchen seemed to awaken him slightly–or it may have been the coffee. Another White House scandal, the paper declares. “We should just turn that place upside down and shake out all the rats, D.C.” he laments, albeit with a resigned undertone. His long years have taught him there is little change to be had in matters like these.
The sound of keys trying to find the precise fit in a lock cause him to lift his gaze to the door. A tall brunette enters. Skinny, and fair skinned. “Late night, huh?” He asked in between sips. “Well, yeah, I’m sorry, Dad. Why are you up?”
“No reason. Get your own place and you won’t have to apologize for coming in late.”
“I know. Soon. Goodnight, Dad.”
That was his world. His kids. His family.
–
It was much colder in Germany than it had ever been in Pennsylvania. Especially in December–in the woods. It was strict light discipline, so that meant no fires. This did not change the fact that warmth was a necessity for survival, however. He was hungry, too.
Luckily, the barn door was open. There was some hay on the ground, but it looked like it hadn’t been used for months. Probably since war had called the area home. He sat with his shoulders against a corner in the back of the barn. Sleep came easily to his weary soul.
–
Books were good company to him, especially late at night. Books, had an odd way of shaking off that which weighed on him. He pulled on off the shelf, one he had read a year or so ago. An interesting read, he remembered. He returned to the table, and took his seat in his oak chair. His coffee mug was now only a quarter of the way full, and his coffee noticeably cooler. The book captured him with ease.
–
Footsteps. Someone is in the barn with him, a shadowy figure. His heart was beating, fast–especially for these temperatures. It was decision time.
–
He placed the book down on the kitchen table, open with the spine up. The clock now read 4:45 am. He wanted to return to his wife’s side, but he wished not to awake her. The couch was the only viable option. “Such is the life,” he sighed as he laid down, pulling an all too small blanket over himself. It was shaping up to be a long night with little sleep, again. He fell into a soft shallow sleep with the scent of Christmas tree tingling in his nose from across the room.
–
He moved swiftly, silently. At this point there was no thinking, just action. And he took action. Within moments he found himself squared up face to face with a Nazi infantryman, no older than himself. They both stared, waiting to see who would make the first move.
–
He was startled awake again. The soldier boy’s face which remained was as clear to him as that of his oldest child. It’s peculiar, the things one remembers from times like those. He vividly remembers two things: the boy’s face, and the feeling of his knife in his hand. Its steel was cold, and it was heavier than it had been a few hours prior, he swore. Those thoughts ran through his head yet again as he sat up and rubbed his face. The sun was breaking over his back yard. He stood in the kitchen window watching thick, rich purples turn into magnificent oranges. Watching his frost frozen grass blades glint the the purest of whites. Whites like those on the Norwegian spruce trees of the Ardennes Forrest.
–
Somehow, he found himself on top of the german, wiping blood from his brow. He took a deep breath, and thanked God that it was–somehow–over. It felt strange to put on the wool jacket of the nazi, it was still warm–but it was either that or freeze to death. The pocket hid a meager ration of pumpernickel, the bread was disproportionally comforting to his ragged soul. It’s the small things in life. Morning sun shone through the greyed wooden slats, it was time to move on. Stepping over his fallen benefactor, he made for the barn door, and slipped out into the frozen dawn.
–
Some nights, he was simply unable to find peace. He cracked the window and in rushed a frigid draft. It smelled of winter, whatever that smelled like. The cold air on his face was soothing. A pair of gentle hands slipped around his waist and a head came to rest on his shoulder from behind.
“Come back to bed.” She spoke softly in his ear
“Yeah, yeah OK.”
October 1st: the unofficial start of Fall–for me at least. September? No, September is the start of school. October, doesn’t it just bring yellow leaves and pumpkin picking to mind? Yupp.
