Trial and error

The best part of having to attend a convocation meeting this afternoon in Greenwood was not the presentation I made or the interaction with old friends I'd not seen since leaving the Church of the Ridge, although both of those aspects of the afternoon were rather pleasurable. No, the best part was the drive -- 45 miles each way -- and getting to listen to NPR. On the way to Greenwood I caught the better part of Garrison Keillor's weekly monologue. Delightful. On the way home, however, I was almost transported by a discussion of the diagnostic process on "The People's Pharmacy."

While it was about medical diagnosis, it gist of the discussion had to do with not knowing, with trying the most obvious thing first, with being wrong and beginning again. One line had me laughing out loud (still in the realm of medical diagnosis): "If you hear the sound of distant hoof beats, think horses." So, if it looks like strep, it probably is. Start there. Tell the patient, however, that if the antibiotics don't have him feeling remarkably better in no less than two days, call back, come back because it isn't strep. What else might those hoof beats be is the question? One more thing: Be clear about where you are. Those hoof beats, if you're on the plains of Africa, could be zebras!

Oh, how I hate making mistakes, to the point that I hide them when at all possible. During my drive home this afternoon, however, I didn't hear anyone saying to be sloppy or caviler or not care. What I did hear was an exploration of the reality that we don't know everything there is to know; part of the joy of life is the process of figuring it out. Trail and error.

Part of the entertainment of the discussion for me was finding myself thinking about the computer solitaire game, Free Cell. The rule of thumb at the outset of a hand is to uncover the aces as quickly as possible. The sound of hoof beats ... Do the obvious, right? But, sometimes the player gets herself to the point that no more moves are possible. The player could give it up as lost. Or, the player can back up to a point where other options were available OR even back all the way to beginning and simply start over. The good thing about Free Cell is that every hand IS playable, winable. The hard part is that some of those winable hands start out in very unobvious ways.

I need to lighten up. To entertain backing up sometimes, to reexamine the situation, the question, the problem. I need to play with ideas, with the possbilities. The process of working something through, staying patient and observant, is more the point than getting it right the first time through.

Now, let's see if I can live that! Ah, hoof beats ...

NASCAR and I-95

Ooh. A nasty combination, huh?

Today was a travel day, en route from Edgefield to Alexandria for a meeting of the Development and Church Relations Committee at VTS. Local and state roads to I-26 to I-95, stopping in Mechanicsville for the night.

I started out with NPR, listening to the spring fund raiser and a pre-recorded edition of A Prairie Home Companion, a compilation of segments from several shows all focused on English majors. Entertaining stuff. It was over too quickly. And, sadly, I hit a weak spot in the NPR coverage and was forced to find another station altogether to listen to, all the while wishing I had had the foresight to include a book-on-tape for the trip.

A couple presses of "scan" on the radio, however, and I found entertainment, new to me and fascinating. The Samsung 500 from the Texas Motor Speedway. A 340 mile race, I manged to listen to over 250 miles of it before I was unable, by pressing "scan" to locate the needed station in the Petersburg area. While I was present, the average speed in Texas was between 140 and 150MPH. I and others on our ribbon of road were a tad more sedate, honoring more than normal the posted speed limits.

The announcers made listening to cars roaring around a track interesting! Caution flags. Bumper taps. Pace cars. Points. Matching tire pressure to the track. The lingo stayed lingo for most part, but I learned that being two seconds behind the leader is an almost impossible-to-make-up lag. And, I realized just how little I know about NASCAR.

I know, Iknow, why would I want to anything about NASCAR?

The thing is, just because I'm not interested or just because I've never been exposed to something doesn't mean it isn't worthwhile or valuable. The older I get the more I disappointed I am in how closed my mind is. I seem to think (without thinking at all, actually) that everyone has or should have my values, that what I deem important is all that is important.

How dare I? How presumptuous!

In my own extended family I can call on people to tell me about history and geography; plants; medicine; writing, language use and grammar; foreign languages; piloting an airplane; travel; real estate, banking and economics; teaching; computer programming; sewing; photography; law enforcement; woodworking; fishing. I could go on and on. And, this list or, given more time, a much longer one wouldn't even begin to cover all the options.

The trouble is, when I turn up my nose at someone else's passion, I'm doing two cruel things (at least two). First, I'm limiting myself. There is nothing saying that by learning something about that passion I have to adopt a new hobby. All I need do is be open. And, secondly, truth be known, when I turn my nose up I'm dismissing not just another's passion, but I'm -- "in thought, word and deed," to quote The Book of Common Prayer -- dismissing the person as well. And, that's just not my right or my calling, not if I'm going to be serious about being a member of the human race. The more people I judge and dismiss the more alone I'm going to be.

Let's see ... who do I know who can fill me in on the intricacies of stock car racing? I could start by finding out what NASCAR stands for.