december fifth

.doors frozen shut.
The first several paragraphs are details regarding life at Hamline. They’re “skippable”–especially if you’ve heard much of it and aren’t interested in the gun control bit. Start reading at the asterisk if that’s the case. (AHEM, Steve Kimball, this is you).
It’s been quite awhile since I’ve written. For this I apologize. I’ve been a busy gal–commuting to and from St. Paul is time consuming, and my work schedule has been fairly demanding. Regardless, I feel compelled to write. My mom’s 2004 Thanksgiving Letter was fairly comprehensive, but she left a few things out–not just kefir, watercolors, and adventures, but even some of the more obvious. I think I can elaborate.
Classes have been going very well. I’m certainly glad that the semester is coming to a close, but I’ve enjoyed the wide variety of classes I’ve had these past few months. Anthropology has been incredibly interesting. I’m not a big fan of the class itself (which might have a little to do with the 8am start time), but I love the readings. My advisor, Martin Markowitz, has supplied me with additional readings, which continue to captivate me. We often meet for lunch to discuss the “homework” he gives me–and to eat chocolate. He has the most amazing chocolate you’ll ever have. The first time I met him, he asked me if I knew the difference between good chocolate and bad chocolate. “Ummm….good chocolate is dark chocolate?” I answered hesitatingly. He told me I’d answered well, but then asked me if I knew the difference between good dark chocolate and bad dark chocolate. I shrugged, and he opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a flathead screwdriver and a hammer. Then he opened his refrigerator and took out a big block of dark chocolate, put the screwdriver on top of the chocolate, and chopped off a chunk. “Don’t worry,” he assured me, nodding at his tools, “This is all I use these for.” I love him. I love him to death. He’s a 60 year-old Jewish guy from Brooklyn, and he challenges me to know and think and believe real things every time I see him.
My religion class is also going well. I’m finishing up my final paper–an exegesis on Luke 22:39-46 (the prayer on the Mount of Olives). I liked my professor, and we read a book by Marcus Borg, who a few of us also heard speak at United Theological Seminary in November. I’ve become increasingly interested in religion–specifically looking at spirituality cross culturally. I’m fairly certain that I’ll be a religion major, and I’m considering Sociology/Anthropology as well.
Crime and Justice in America has been far more interesting than I imagined. It’s taught by a public defender who used to have a private practice. I’ve been learning quite a bit about crooks, cops, corrections, and the constitution. I also did loads of research for a recent debate on gun control laws…and changed my mind a few times as a result. I was arguing against stricter gun control laws (that is, pro gun rights). I went into it from an anti-gun perspective–I don’t like violence, and guns are violent. After completing my research and reading that of others, I came to the conclusion that the Framers had intended for the 2nd Amendment to be an individual right and that the right to bear arms should not be infringed. My conclusion, and the thinking that turned my head upside down, was something like this:
“As Ronald Dworkin has argued, what it meant to take rights seriously is that one will honor them even when there is significant social cost in doing so. If protecting freedom of speech, the rights of criminal defendants, or any other parts of the Bill of Rights were always (or even most of the time) clearly cost less to the society as a whole, it would truly be impossible to understand why they would be as controversial as they are. The very fact that there are often significant costs — criminals going free, oppressed groups having to hear viciously racist speech and so on — helps to account for the observed fact that those who view themselves as defenders of the Bill of Rights are generally antagonistic to prudential arguments. Most often, one finds them embracing versions of textual, historical, or doctrinal arguments that dismiss as almost crass and vulgar any insistence that times might have changed and made too “expensive” the continued adherence to a given view.” (Sanford Levinson) It is CRUCIAL that we take second amendment rights seriously. The Founders feared that future generations would fail to understand the importance of the liberties they deemed essential; they were right. We are naive, spoiled, and ignorant if we believe that our modern society is “above” the second amendment or that its meaning is no longer applicable. How scary it would be if our descendants said the same thing about our other civil liberties. Our individual rights are not technicalities. It is our duty to preserve them.
After the debate I had a long conversation with my professor. We discussed the meaning of this “right” for a long time, and finally concluded that though the Framers may have meant for the 2nd Amendment to be an individual right, it IS possible that the right itself has changed as a result of technological advancements, etc., and that the 2nd Amendment no longer has the same meaning as it did when the Bill of Rights was adapted. So basically, I’m back where I started.
Latin American Studies has been a favorite. My professor is great. She knows a ton (and more), and she expects a lot. I’m not going to miss reading Cole Blaiser, but I might miss the Prof.’s tangents regarding scary 500 page documents and U.S. foreign aid to Israel. I don’t think she’s going to give us a final…she hasn’t corrected our midterms yet…
***I’m glad I returned to E-Town this semester. I needed to be home. I needed to spend some time with my family, keep a job, and experience Hamline University. I have, however, decided to return to St. Olaf this January. I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the year there–I’ll be taking Buddhism over interim and a variety of Anthropology and Religion courses in the spring. I’m also looking forward to seeing those lovely stolaf friends of mine…oh, and a perk. I’ll be living on campus, which means my commute time will go from 30-40 minutes during rush hour to 5 or 6 by foot.
I beat the sun to Hamline on Thursday. I haven’t had the pleasure since before daylight savings time, but having traded my morning dose of green tea for a few minutes to look over my anthropology notes, I found myself ahead of routine. Driving east in the early morning has been gorgeous–I’ve been missing out on those colors for some time now…but I guess I don’t miss them enough to get up on Saturdays, as well. Anyway, skipping the tea didn’t end up working out so well. After Anthropology, I trudged to the library and found myself on a couch on the second floor two hours later. I almost missed lunch as a result, which would have been a shame, since potato soup warms the soul on long, chilly December days.
Speaking of the cold…I am constantly trying to keep warm. Brother Benjamin gleefully describes me as cold blooded, but what can I say? I have sensitive toes. And hands. Or maybe I ought to be eating more of this and that to improve my circulation. Until I find out what that is, or how to convince everyone else that it is NOT strange to wrap myself in blankets and wear wool socks to bed, I’ve taken it upon myself to improve my situation. My latest attempt, wrist warmers, has proved successful. They work the same way a wool scarf does; because the blood runs so close to the surface of your skin in your wrists, leaving your wrists exposed to cold air dramatically lowers the temperature of your blood. I wear my wrist warmers to work all the time (they’re like tube socks for your forearms, I guess).
The job at the yarn barn has improved. I learn a bit more about knitting everyday, and I’ve earned the reputation of the “backstock queen”–which, I guess, is a good thing. I also let Ellen, a retired social worker and one of my favorite coworkers, dress me up in sample knits every Friday. We’re working together on Christmas Eve, and she says she’s looking forward to trying on clothes all afternoon.
My favorite customers thus far have been an older couple. I didn’t see them come in, but as I wandered around the store last Friday afternoon, I stopped to see an older man in the sock yarn section looking very lost. Now, I must be clear here–men DO knit. In fact, the most knowledgeable knitter I know is Brian, the man I often work nights with. Still, I don’t often come across old men looking lost–they’re generally young men accompanying a woman and looking awfully bored. Anyway, I asked him if he needed any help, and he nodded eagerly–“I don’t, but she does…” and pointed to the back of the store. When we reached the classroom, he introduced me to his wife–an older woman in her mid-eighties. She was in a wheelchair, and she asked me to fix her knitting. She handed me the beginning of a purple ski cap, which she was knitting for charity, she explained. They had provided the yarn for her, but she’d ended up with a hole twenty or so rows into the cap. “I just can’t figure out what went wrong,” she said, shaking her head, “and when I have to hold the needles between my legs, it just gets too difficult to go back.” She had no left arm.
We generally don’t spend more than five minutes helping knitters with mistakes…during the winter, it’s just too busy, so we schedule “clinics,” and customers come in for two hours and a teacher helps them with whatever they’re working on for $10. It’s particularly of concern if the yarn isn’t from our store and the pattern is from the internet…people often come in asking for help but not purchasing anything…but I used my discretion, I guess, and sat down. As I fixed her knitting and cast on the stitches for her next project, her husband informed me that he was planning on living to be 141. Their kindness–but particularly their expression of love–reminded me of my Oma and Opa. They also had me pick out a few patterns and a whole basket of yarn. I met them at the cash register to check out, and after they’d paid, the woman’s husband leant forward and pushed a ten dollar bill into my hand–“Thank you, Anna. Thank you for all your help.” I told him I was sorry, but I couldn’t accept it. “Please,” he insisted, “it’s Christmas. It’s Christmas.” His eyes hugged me and held me tight, and I slipped the bill into their shopping bag with a little Merry Christmas note while they weren’t looking. On their way out, they wished me a merry Christmas, and the older man smiled at me again with those eyes of his and told me I was a beautiful girl.
“Please. It’s Christmas. It’s Christmas.” His words echoed in my head all day, and as soon as I got home I told the story to my mom. After a long, cold Thursday, I needed that Friday to lift me out of…of myself. I think those eyes kept me warm all day.
I think that’s it for now. Due to my lack of updates, I’ve skipped over my summer road trips, my trip to Washington D.C. this fall, my friend Anne’s marathon, new band doodies, and more…still, I think this is long enough. I hope you’re all doing well. I hope you’re all resting. Make fires. Wrap yourselves in blankets and hug your lovelies tight. Let me know how the wind blows in your neck of the woods when you have a chance.
Take care and stay warm.
Love anna
Note: St. Nicholas is due to arrive on Monday–put out your shoes unless you expect coal.