Spring 1999

• America Meats the World
• Balkan Battle Hymn
• Greatness
• Letter to the Editor: You oughta know
• Pack Slippers
• Gas Station

Editors

I am a sucker for greatness. It is my drug of choice, next to beauty. And, just as beauty is wonderfully subjective, so is greatness. There are levels and types of greatness; it can be personal or go beyond the individual. I remember, once, sitting down with a friend at my parents’ kitchen table, each of us busily scratching down a list of who we thought were the 10 most influential, or greatest, people in 20^th century America. Actually, we were making two lists--one included who we thought would be on my mother’s social studies video on the subject and one with who we really thought were the greatest. As great minds think alike, our wish lists were very similar. But both were strikingly different from the 10 on the video.

Although I believe with all my heart in an objective reality, I freely admit that it is impossible for anyone to see it. Just as with the smallest quantum particles, just looking at something, measuring something about it, changes it. No two people will see or experience the same thing even if they are standing right next to each other and concentrating really hard. It is the same for greatness.

You see, greatness is a measure of achievement, and, while achievement is almost always recognized as such, there are many different ideas as to the degree of importance attached to any one achievement. No one would argue that the development of the polio vaccine and the invention of the assembly line were great and important achievements, but which one was more important? There is where the subjectivity lies.

Each one of us holds different things closer to our hears than others, and so we declare achievements great only by our own personal measure. No one can decide for you what you see as great--and if they somehow did, that great act, that achievement, wouldn’t mean as much. It is the act of acknowledging achievement from a purely personal perspective that brings the achievement the greatest honor. And god created the world and he saw that it was good.

So how does one decide what they think is achievement, what they think is good or great? Well, I don’t know how everyone else does it, but I know how I do. If it brings tears to my eyes, it is great. It may take quite a bit of thought to figure out intellectually why, but I always do.

The first time I realized this about myself (though it wasn’t the first time it happened, certainly) was when I was watching the tail end of the Boston Marathon almost 4 years ago. At the corner of Mass Ave. and Comm Ave, just back from my own personal marathon on my bike and on the way to the bike shop on Newbury Street for a pedal wrench, I was blocked from my goal by this stream of people a half-mile from the finish line.

I admit that I was slightly annoyed and merely stood there and plotted how to cross the street anytime in the near future. But then I started to look at the runners instead of just seeing them. In fairly quick succession (though certainly not as quick as at mile 5, I’m sure), I watched an old guy, a young girl, and a very stern-faced ROTC jog a bit unsteadily by me. The inside of my nose got prickly. I rubbed it, bit it just got worse. Then my vision blurred, and the next thing I knew, I could feel tears rolling down my cheeks.

I stood and watched them for a very long time, my tears waxing and waning, but it wasn’t until later that I understood. The people I saw were accomplishing something great. Whether they ran a 2-hour marathon or a 5-hour one, it almost didn’t matter because that type of achievement was a personal one. I cried because I was imagining how they felt, what they had done to get to mile 25.5 still jogging, how proud of their work and effort they must be. In ways, it was great because it was all relative.

As I sat at my desk at work the other day and listened to the shuttle launch that put John Glenn back in orbit after over three decades, I cried again. Escaping the earth’s atmosphere is an achievement more people recognize as such even though we have grown quite used to it since the sixties. No matter what the current political controversy, no matter what anyone else has to say about it, think about how proud NASA engineers and technicians must be when the fruit of their efforts rises slowly from the ground with a body-shaking rumble and accelerates to 15,000 miles per hour on its quest of knowledge and general nose-thumbing in the direction of the immutable forces of mother nature.

The point is that no matter what the achievement, greatness comes from personal effort, from unrelenting striving toward a goal, whether it is a 4-hour marathon or mastery of English grammar. And it is this knowledge of personal effort that makes me cry. They are tears of happiness and pride but also of relief. Because I believe that human beings have the potential for greatness in so many things, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders when I look around and recognize people working along the road to achievement right next to me. I give them the salute of the swell of my heart and my wet cheeks and then face forward and continue my march to my personal goals, secure again that this road is not as lonely as it sometimes feels.

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YOU OUGHTA KNOW

by Alanis Morissette

The author of the article "Greatness" in this issue of the Irwin Courterly seems to say to her readers "Sometimes is never quite enough. If you’re flawless then you’ll win my love. Don’t forget to win first place. Try a little harder. You’ve got to measure up and make me prouder." The article promotes a definition of success that is both oppressive and culturally imperialist. Moreover, the self-congratulatory tone of the article obscures the fact that feeling good about one’s own accomplishments, or indeed recognizing one’s own failures, is often more empowering than impressing one’s audience.

Because of my status as a global celebrity, I can speak from personal experience. I don’t want to be adored for what I merely represent to you. What do you thank me for? I’m broke but I’m happy. I’m poor but I’m kind. I’m short but I’m healthy. I’m high but I’m grounded. I’m sane but I’m overwhelmed. I’m lost but I’m hopeful, baby. What it all comes down to is that everything’s gonna be fine fine fine. But in the narrow conception of success that the IC promulgates by printing the article "Greatness," none of the self-awareness that I gained, for example, during my recent trip to India, has any social value. The author seems implicitly to assert that unless she, as a casual observer, can pat herself on the back for having witnessed what she perceives to be my accomplishments, those accomplishments do not even count. I’m sure that the author bought my first album. And I’m sure that now that I’m Miss Thing - now that I’m a zillionaire - she scans the credits for her name and wonders why it’s not there. I would like to know that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down. That I would be good if I got and stayed sick. That I would be good even if I gained ten pounds. That I would be fine even if I went bankrupt. That I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth. That I would be great if I was no longer queen. That I would be grand if I was not all-knowing. That I would be loved even when I numb myself. That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed. That I would be loved even when I was fuming. That I would be good even if I was clingy. That I would be good even if I lost sanity.

The IC’s exclusive definition of greatness, however, leads me to believe that the only way I can continue to think of myself as a good person is to perform for an audience, and to please that audience by fitting into socially-constructed pigeon-holes.

Sometimes, it is important for one to realize that, in most ways, he or she is not great. When I am with friends who understand this about themselves, I am humbled by their humble nature. There is nothing wrong with occasionally letting down an audience. It is more important to know one’s limits and to self-consciously challenge them, even at the risk of failing. You see in getting beyond knowing it solely intellectually, you’re not relinquishing your majestry. It’s as if you said "wouldn’t it be a shame if I knew how great I was five minutes before I died? I’d be filled with such regret before I took my last breath." And I said "you’re willing to tell me this now? And you’re not going to die anytime soon." And I said "I haven’t been eating meat or chicken or anything," and you said "yes, but you’ve been wearing leather," and laughed and said "we’re at the top of the food chain and yes you’re still a fine woman." I don’t want to please you or any audience by conforming to some image of "fine woman" spread by the capitalist fashion industry. I mean, do I stress you out? My sweater is on backwards and inside out, and you say "how appropriate." I don’t want to dissect everything today. I don’t mean to pick you apart you see, but I can’t help it. And all I really want is some patience, a way to calm the angry voice. And all I really want is deliverance.

Finally, I would like IC readers to know that when I dropped this letter off at the Irwin Headcourters they told me that all-out attacks on fledgling writers are not politically correct. I was standing there and I was all pigtails and cords and there was a day when I would’ve said something like "Hey dude I could buy and sell this place, so kiss it." I too once thought I was owed something. I was hoping we could challenge each other. I too thought that when proved wrong I lost somehow. I too once thought life was cruel. It’s a cycle really. You think I’m withdrawing and guilt tripping you. But when I rewrote this editorial to conform to industry standards I knew that I had to watch my tone for fear of having you feel judged.

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or The Trials of Jet-setting

by Ara Lyonmiles

Everyone knows you’re bound to run into delays when you travel, especially with the growing popularity of air travel as more people travel to different places and impatient white-collar proletariat trot around the globe on business.

I highly recommend packing a pair of slippers for your next trip, especially if you might come in contact with hotels or airports. It made a world of difference for me to have some slippers to wear around the hotel room we didn’t expect to stay in and to put on at the airport for a 3-hour extended layover. Of course, in my particular case, equipped as I was with bright orange clown-fish slippers, not only did I feel at home and more comfortable, but I got a few odd looks and made a few people laugh.

I’ve been doing more air travel in the past few years myself, and in the past six months especially, I have experienced numerous delays. Sitting in Phoenix waiting for a delayed flight to SFO this March, I couldn’t help but reflect upon previous days spent in airports and to ponder why I—and so many others—continue to endure the inconvenience.

A few times the weather has restricted travel. Once a plane was iced over in Colorado Springs, which caused us to spend hours in the airport waiting for a bus to Denver. Those hours plus more delays in Denver allowed me to read, aloud to Robin, Banana Yoshimoto’s N.P. in its entirety.

When the fog in SF limited the flights that could land at the end of December 1998, Delta kindly put up a plane-full of weary travelers at a hotel. At the Cinncinati airport I bought Grace Notes, by Bernard MacLaverty; over the course of that evening’s wait, the following morning, and the subsequent stop-over in Salt Lake City I read the whole thing.

Being prepared for the delays inherent in air travel these days makes it much more pleasant. I also recommend that you have back-up plans for meeting people at your destination. Having no obligations immediately upon arrival or even the following day makes for a much more relaxed wait, as does having all your luggage (as long as you can carry it comfortably) by your side.

The unexpected pockets of time that unavoidable delays provide can allow you to catch up on any variety of projects. Get to long-avoided written correspondence, read that book you keep carrying around, work on a low priority project, or even make new friends (you already have something in common: you’re trying to go to the same place and you’re all stuck in an airport). Try not to get frustrated, and it’s a blessing in disguise.

If you’re a computer junkie like I am, you’ll probably be happier if you take a laptop when you go,. Those who suffer most in airports are probably those dependent on technical devices who don’t have them on hand. Realizing that just reminded me that being prepared for the unknown is worth the weight and effort.

Traveling alone is a nuisance because you have to watch your own bags the whole time and you don’t necessarily have someone to grumble with or comfort you, share the overpriced airport food, or wait in line for you.

The perks of the frequent-flying deal that I’d always heard about finally materialized at Thanksgiving, when we got vouchers from America West airlines for a delay of a few hours and a flight to the more-convenient Oakland airport. The voucher was a mixed blessing: I got a free flight to Colorado, but then I got stuck waiting to get back to SFO, yet again. Maybe the reason it’s cheaper to fly in and out of SFO is because it’s overcrowded and unreliable!

The freedom of being able to fly here and there comes with a price: a gamble on time saved, and on time you might spend in an unfamiliar airport. Luckily they’re all quite similar, so make yourself at home and enjoy the wait until your plane actually takes off.

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by Jonathan Markus, Josh Kimbrough, and the Alanis Morrissette random lyric generator