Lessons I Learned from Teaching U.S. History

 Lessons I Learned from Teaching U.S. History

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

 I learned some unforgettable lessons from my first year of teaching U.S. history to high school juniors and seniors in 1969.   Nearly all of my students were white and economically advantaged in Bethesda-Chevy Chase, Maryland.   My curriculum was framed by a thousand-page tome entitled “The American Pageant”.   A department mentor supplied a course outline, some time-worn mimeographed worksheets, and a cranky overhead projector.  Mostly I was left on my own to journey through the textbook’s exhaustive chronology of political, economic, and military developments.     

Naturally I wanted to help my 125 students remember enough to pass the course and graduate.  Yet I also rationalized that I could use history as a tool for critical thinking and big ideas about American character.  

Was I ever naïve!   I was trying to inspire interest in a textbook crammed with the publisher’s mind-numbing interpretations.   Besides boring my classes with a slew of forgettable historical facts, I was doing little to make our past relate to the present.  

 In 1969 we were passionately, sometimes violently launching the beginnings of the civil rights movement.  I had watched the skylines of Baltimore and D.C. burning the year before, as the national guard patrolled our streets.  There was growing discontent over the Vietnam war, and protests were getting louder and lifestyles were turning psychedelic.   My students and I remained comfortably oblivious to events of the day.  It actually surprised me when just one of my most rebellious students skipped school to listen to the daily reading of the war dead on the steps of the Capitol.  I persisted in disassociating the day’s issues from my teaching though ironically, by Valentine’s Day, I had received my draft notice and would spend the following year in Vietnam.

Another fallibility was my tendency to lecture and harness myself to the textbook as a main resource.  I was only trying to stay one factual step ahead of my most assertive students, but I was defaulting to advice I once heard from a workshop presenter: “I am here to teach, you are here to listen.  Raise your hand if you finish before I do!”  

Finally, our textbook, which still sits on my bookshelf, comes back to haunt me.   The American Pageant has been reprinted 13 times, but it continues to prove its original author’s observation: “Old myths never die – they just become embedded in textbooks.” 

Pageant is just one of 18 current texts examined by historian James Loewen whose best seller, “Lies My Teacher Told Me,” makes it abundantly clear that we are still trapped by Eurocentric misconceptions that “precolonial” native Americans had little to contribute to our culture, lacked technology (including guns), and had no idea what was really meant by property ownership.   Multicultural diversity and mutual accommodation were quite real 300 years ago, but the textbook I used as a resource never let this interfere with the story that white society was superior in every way and sanctioned by God.  

If I were teaching our history today, given adequate primary sources, I would start by coaching students to understand that acculturation works in many reciprocal directions.  I would ask them to enliven their learning by investigating their own ancestry as well as the embedded roots of today’s hot issues.  I would urge my students to ask why questions, the kind that demand the use of primary sources and live interviews.  

As for our native population, these days I would ask my students to consider what is meant by “America First” when we have 326 Indian reservations in our country, each one considered a sovereign nation.  Indeed, I have learned that history is a moving target.  We interact with it constantly, and thereby it changes. Ignoring our past may not mean that we repeat its mistakes, but its echoes send important messages. 

  Fortunately, as my first year of teaching flew by, I began to discover how to make U.S. history an empathetic experience.  An English teacher colleague and I were given time to co-teach a short course on World War I.  By mating historical events with fictional novels, we tried to immerse our students in the emotional grips of war and its devastating consequences.  We sought to help students feel how others felt, and to encourage and integrate different perspectives.   At other times, I staged debates and encouraged my students to present reasoned arguments, so they could advance and defend both sides of issues.  I started to rely on cooperative and differentiated approaches, hoping to individualize lessons and to avoid the one-way street of endless lecturing.

As I gained ground in teaching, I grew to appreciate the challenge of making history topically relevant and fair minded.  It is tempting to grab pieces out of context, but it takes enlightened teaching to help our children see it clearly and without premature and poorly informed judgments.

 Our collective civic future is at risk.  We have let our own history become a stomping ground for publishers rather than fertile territory for critical thinking, for exercising communication skills, for self-discovery and compassion.   There are multiple dots between America’s past and present.   When we connect those dots, we must look between the lines to see and feel the whole landscape with its many different routes to truth.     

Once in a Lifetime Came Jim Vetro

Once in a Lifetime Came Jim Vetro

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

When James Vetro interviewed me for a position as his assistant, he quickly discovered I knew almost nothing about state aid to our public schools.  In 1975, this amounted to over three billion dollars’ worth of ignorance.  I knew that Jim’s position as director of research for the New York State School Boards Association (NYSSBA) was closely identified with his expertise in school finance.  I was finishing a doctorate in school administration at the state university at Albany, but only one course in all my studies had involved school business administration, much less state aid, so I figured my chances of employment were slim.  Thankfully I was quite wrong!

Jim Vetro’s priority was someone he could get along with, someone with a decent personality, as he told me a few years later.  Apparently, mine fit.  I guess he figured he would always be around to field the multitude of complex finance questions that came daily from superintendents and board members, while I would learn to fill in the gaps.   

Within a couple of weeks, I discovered that Jim had meetings and other duties that often called him away.  When state aid negotiations demanded technical expertise, quite regularly the media called or arrived for an interview.  Further, I discovered that superintendents phoned frequently because their annual proposed or actual school aid entitlement was falling short.  Why the hell, they wanted to know, were they being shortchanged?  When this happened, they were usually scrutinizing pages of computer runs, finding unpredictable formula-driven variations.  Of course, I had no idea what to tell them.  And when the news media got to me because Jim was elsewhere, I was terrified that I would make a dump ass of myself.  However, Jim had a solution of sorts.

He introduced me to a couple of well-seasoned colleagues in the state education department who were patiently willing to rescue me with simplified details about operating aid’s dependence on weighted pupil counts, full or market valuation of property, and all kinds of separate categorical aids for everything from transportation to excess cost for children with disabilities.  I worried that the old finance guys would soon retire, but in the meantime, I called them with frantic abandon, and then proceeded to make seemingly calm calls back to superintendents.  I fooled them unless they asked me yet another question.  Still, I was relieved to find that most superintendents had no more technical knowledge of formulas than I did.

Within a few months, I became conversant with the basics of school finance.  My responsibilities expanded with Jim Vetro’s good-humored, consistently genial mentoring.  School board members and superintendents really adored him simply because he was genuinely likeable and deeply knowledgeable about his field.  I benefitted from being around him.  In retrospect, I realize that Jim really changed my professional and personal life in so many unusual ways. 

Jim Vetro thrived on habits.  One was singular dedication to staying in shape.  Thus he took time on many days of the week to walk to the nearby Albany downtown YMCA where he enjoyed an abundant group of workout friends.  I joined his athletic fraternity enthusiastically, thereby connecting with a host of state agency pros who added to my sense of belonging. 

One of Jim’s fortes was school budgeting workshops, conducted around the state during the winter months.  He recruited superintendents, NYSED managers, and school business officials to present at these, and I believe they felt it was an honor.   My job was to sweat bullets while dealing with banquet managers who all too often forgot to arrange for a meeting room, or a speaker system, or a group lunch.

I also importuned the speakers to give me their written remarks, and tried to keep them on schedule.  As I look back on it, however, winter weather on the N.Y. Thruway was our biggest challenge.  Thankfully Jim seldom hesitated to drive his monster Cadillac through lake effect snowstorms to get us to and from our workshops.

Jim represented the Association as a founding member of the Educational Conference Board (ECB) which included representatives from the teacher unions, superintendents, school business officials, and principals.  The ECB always advocated more state aid, levelled up so no organization would experience equalization at the expense of another.  Through this organization, I became acquainted with Jim’s counterparts in these organizations.  The networking helped me gain confidence and valuable contacts, especially because my duties included sitting with the ECB members routinely at meetings of the Board of Regents. 

Over the years my two children were born.  My wife and I had no relatives nearby to step in when emergencies arose, so we were immensely grateful that Jim unfailingly supported me with no questions ever asked.  He and his wife Peg were always tuned in to our needs; conversely everyone stood ready to help the Vetros when they encountered tragedies.   

Jim’s physical appearance accentuated his big moustache and a curly head of brindled hair, combined with a deeply tanned complexion.  Reinforced by his genial, though sometimes stubborn personality, his bearing earned Jim the moniker of “Italian stallion”.   This was often previewed by a chronically strong cologne that announced his presence beforehand. 

Colleagues, board members, and superintendents all found Jim Vetro an open, honest, and truly likeable man with a disarming sense of humor.  I thrived on his dynamic personality and interpersonal ease.  He always seemed to be in my corner, to willingly protect me from the slings and arrows of state association work.   When someone like James Vetro comes along, with assets that combine both professionalism and personal charms, it may well happen only once, and we must count ourselves just plain lucky. 

2/6/19

Idioms Tell Volumes About Us

Idioms Tell Volumes About Us

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

Whether we call them idioms, colloquialisms, or odd expressions, they load the English language with terms that confound teachers and learners alike.  The more they are repeated and used publicly, the more idioms are likely to take root in our psyche and become a shortcut for deceptive meanings.  

Simply defined, an idiom is a phrase whose meaning is hard to predict from its parts. It cannot be taken literally.  Say you are an English language learner and I tell you I am sick as a dog.  This phrase comes from the 17^th century, but as a “newbie” to English, you might wonder why this is so bad.  Actually, dogs are known for vomiting frequently.  If I tell you this means being under the weather, meanings grow even more confusing.  Maybe I am just trying to escape bad weather because it is raining cats and dogs.  Or maybe I could be cured by some hair of the dog, also known as alcohol.  

Where do we find idioms?  Largely in everyday or colloquial conversations.  Their mates are slang, contractions, and profanity.  Despite never taking Latin in school (wish I had), and failing dismally at crossword puzzles, I really enjoy idioms.  Recently I made a list of those I use frequently.  I kept a cell phone recorder nearby because they disappear into “thin air” (yet another idiom). 

A review of the list surprised me.  Animal references are favorites.  My summer is filled with dog days, often I am dog tired, perhaps because I get up at sparrow’s fart (really early, thanks to the British).  Doggonit, I will always believe in puppy love, and I find it is never too late to teach an old dog new tricks.

 Efforts like this make me sweat like a stuck pig.  Still, I sleep as snug as a bug in a rug and never let bed bugs bite.   I regard despicable people as lower than whale waste.  I prefer to avoid those whose mouths run like a whippoorwill’s butt, preferring not to meet them in a dog’s age.  Lately, when I wash my hands of problems, I am likely to utter under my breath, “Not my circus, not my monkeys”. Sometimes caught between a rock and a hard place, or not seeing the forest through the trees, I decide there is more than one way to skin a cat.  

Living here in western New York, I belabor the weather.  Favorite idioms come from my dad who was an inveterate coastal fisherman.  Good weather could be predicted from the sailor’s delight of a red sky at night. However, the same in the morning always meant that sailors should take warning.  And “mackerel sky, not long wet nor yet long dry” predicts changeable conditions, which can include fog “thick a blue dungeon.”

Two of the more colorful expressions cemented into my memory come my Air Force experience teaching English in Vietnam. A Louisiana bunk mate used to crack me up when he complained, “That is harder than stuffing a pad of butter up a wildcat’s butt with a hot knitting needle.” On another occasion our commanding officer drove our jeep barely under the landing gear of an incoming C-123.  As we breathed a sign of relief, he turned and said, “Well, no guts no glory.”  I still use that idiom in hairy situations.

I fall back on language from the Bible all the time, thanks to my dad’s religious upbringing.  I find myself advising:  ask and ye shall receive; as ye sew so shall ye reap; there but for the grace of God go I.; and let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

Certain life style expressions have become idioms of choice in my household.  Included are:  persistence always triumphs; what goes around comes around; first paint the target, then shoot the arrow; cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face; the horse is out of the barn; and if wishes were horses then beggars would ride. And when something really puzzles us, for some reason we say, “No kidding Dick Tracy!” 

Our idioms tell volumes about our origins, what we read or see on tv, and the people who have influenced us.  I suggest you draw up a list and share it with your relatives and friends.  You might find yourself moon struck or gob smacked at the end of the day.    

Adventures on the Country Roads of Italy

Adventures on the Country Roads of Italy  

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

One of the best ways to learn when traveling is to make comparisons.  It gives us firsthand knowledge.   We can learn about other places and civilizations by exercising all of our senses.  Because our own lives are a reference point, we can learn a tremendous amount about ourselves at the same time.  If we stay open-minded, feel safe, and avoid political opinions, international travel can be vitalizing and fun.  A recent bus tour of both city and country locations in Italy certainly gave my wife Hillary and me a unique appreciation of its deep history and sheer beauty.    

Our jaunt included 35 adventurous seniors from several countries.   Jackie, our tour director, is bilingual and passionate about all things Italian.  The bus ride alone was a continuous listening and learning experience.  We also enjoyed local guides who enriched our days with unique historical descriptions and anecdotes.  We hiked over miles of cobblestones and up and down stairs.  In the evening, after a couple of eight-course dinners lubricated by local wines, our tour group bonded over vintage rock and roll music.  

 My purpose here is to make a few simple comparisons with our home country.  First, consider the landscape.  It seems hard to believe that forests cover about one third of both the United States and Italy.  Our impression was that every available acre of Italian country is planted with olive and fruit trees, wheat and maize, and endless rows of grape vines. Volcanic soil is perfect for agriculture.

Cities like Rome and Florence have been built on the accretions of previous inhabitants over thousands of years.  In Tuscany and Umbria, hill towns built on volcanic tuff perch above high walls that may conceal caves and parts of ancient neighborhoods.  Pompeii, an entire city frozen in 79 AD by volcanic ash from Mt. Vesuvius, has no American equivalent.       

 Italy is geographically narrow and long while the U.S. sprawls in every direction.  Old and permanent, Italian landmarks are built from bricks covered with mortar.  Perhaps this is because the Romans, borrowing from their predecessors, invented bricks, made narrow walkways from basalt (volcanic rock) that lasts forever, and clustered their towns to protect against historical enemies.  Related factors may be the centralizing feature of cathedrals as well as the communal style of life around piazzas. The splendor of Christianity is enshrined in architectural masterpieces.

 By way of contrast, American towns and homes seem much newer given our short history, use of flammable wood as building material, huge land mass, and our restless mobility.  Americans and Italians are marvelous architects, but ancient Romans mastered the mechanics in ways we still copy.  Prompted partly by the need to move and house large armies, the Romans constructed straight roads, aqueducts, and municipal buildings with extraordinary efficiency.     

Trying to compare Italians and Americans based on a tourist view is a challenge. We certainly noticed that Italian service folks were patient, courteous, and spoke basic English.  When they do speak Italian, their words seem to roll out like an animated avalanche, typically punctuated by hand gestures.  As for style, Italians have a distinctive flair.  They cherish colorful traditions, stylish garb, and superb craftsmanship. 

 Italian road vehicles and driving habits contrast with ours, not so much on their “strada principali” but on city streets and on winding country roads.  Tiny compact cars and motorbikes weave down narrow roads, overlook traffic laws, and cram into every available parking space.  Busses seem to fit easily around tight corners because of wheels that turn at right angles.   Our bus driver Enzo adeptly navigated torturous roads clinging to sea cliffs so we chipped in and purchased a Ferrari driving experience for him when we visited the factory and museum.  

 We found Italian food delightfully fresh and varied, not spicy at all, supplied by nearby farm markets.  Multi-course dinners included antipasti, a typical first course of pasta, then vegetables and meats.  Pizza is sort of a gesture for tourists. The best desserts are found at corner gelato nooks.  We were told that real Italian gelato contains no fat, is not inflated with air, and is made from wholly organic ingredients.  Thus I gained some pounds, while also learning to appreciate abundant wines which are intended to be consumed with food.  

Many of our misconceptions disappeared as we traveled.  For instance, Venetian canals are mostly fresh and clean.  The Verona balcony where Romeo and Juliet allegedly declared their vows may be a tourist attraction, but Shakespeare invented it.  And the white that we saw on distant mountains is not snow, but rather carrara marble quarried today in Tuscany as it was in the days of Michelangelo.

Finally, something called “campanilismo” is probably the most vital ingredient of Italian life.  Remember, for most of its history Italy was anything but unified, so a positive provincialism still thrives.  An American parallel might be the traditional small town that deeply appreciates its heritage.  In Italian communities, you can feel it in well preserved city centers, old cafes, nearby churches, clean streets, and the friendly rhythms of life around the municipal bell towers.

 Throughout our trip, we realized that each separate region of the country rivals the art, history, and civilization of entire nations elsewhere.  No other country in the world has 53 world heritage sites.  Now we know why.  We want to return.    

 

Research Should Be A Tool For Thinking Clearly

Research Should Be A Tool For Thinking Clearly

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

Students are typically told that research should come before drawing conclusions.  However, life experience prompts us to jump to conclusions, and then backfill selectively to justify them.    

What is wrong about this?  It seems quite natural to look harder for justifications than for contradictions.  But there are pitfalls lying in the weeds.  Most obvious are suspicions about so-called fake news.  As a result, we may close our minds to opposing viewpoints spawned by the internet or the media.  When conclusions rely on bias and emotions, the truth acts like a candle in the wind.   

Having spent a lifetime conducting research for many different purposes, I have a few suggestions regarding ways to make it a better tool for thinking clearly.

First, carefully define potential misconceptions, and then ask why.  For instance, if I eat a lot of peanut butter, does this make me more intelligent?  Or do I eat more of it because I am more intelligent?  Cause and effect is a two-way street, so it always makes sense to balance correlational research with common sense.  Along with this we should rule out questionable causes – like whether chunky or smooth peanut butter makes a difference – and realize that relationships are not necessarily a matter of cause and effect.  Things may just vary together by coincidence.

Another fallibility is called herd instinct.  Unless we analyze an issue to form our own opinions, we may be tempted to “go with the flow” and embrace what others tell us is a popular choice.  Herds could be a matter of survival, as when a crowd gallops toward an exit because of fire.  Or it might occur simply because an overhead sprinkler has malfunctioned.  

Rolf Dobelli, head of a decision science lab at Harvard, describes a fascinating collection of misconceptions that can best be corrected by self-awareness and a bit of research.  He points out that we jump to conclusions using whatever information is handy (availability bias).  We hold onto a house that has become a money pit when logic and research tell us it is time to sell (sunk cost fallacy).  Another potential warp, called “story bias”, leads us to turn truths into fairy tales for purposes of consistency or to hide something.  After all, stories are usually more interesting and exciting than time-consuming research.

Often we invent reasons to short circuit research.  Most popular is the knowing-doing gap.  By investigating an issue into near oblivion, we can delay doing anything about it.  Instead, research might reasonably convince us to act and then make adjustments afterward.       

Research and the internet go together.  For this reason, digital literacy should be a necessity for all of us.  Reading habits have changed drastically in recent years, especially for young people.   A new study reports that just 16 percent of our high school seniors read a book, magazine, or newspaper every day.  In contrast, eight of every 10 spend vast periods of time staring at computer screens.   A helpful step toward research literacy could be Google Scholar.  Via this computer application students can be guided to ask well-worded questions, investigate real-world problems, share their work, and to compare and refine documented references.

Simply collecting information is hardly enough.  Thinking should be clarified beforehand.  Misconceptions should be anticipated.  The internet may be a worldwide data treasure, but mining it calls for integrity and a systematic approach.  Valid and reliable research takes time, effort, and open-mindedness.  It can be used to test hypotheses, for advocacy or to tell a story, but in every instance, research should be respected as a feature of daily life.     

Seeking Simplicity is Only Human

Seeking Simplicity Is Only Human

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

Simplicity can be a complex matter.  This sounds like a contradiction, but when we stop to think about the interwoven choices that surround our daily lives, it is no wonder that finding simplicity amid the din is something like discovering silence at a rock concert.

When the term simplicity is googled, lists of advice appear to tell us how to clear out living quarters, pare down wardrobes, and change our diets.  Unfortunately, not much is available to show us how simply being human can be a very natural way to enhance simplicity.

Today’s avalanche of technology provides an excellent example.  Not long ago our refrigerator died after weeks of ticking ominously.  Disappointed that it had lasted only nine years, but delighted that we had a 25-year-old substitute fridge to store things temporarily, we hastened to the local appliance store and complained to a sympathetic saleswoman about planned obsolescence.

 She said she was truly sorry.  She explained that years ago refrigerators seldom died because their compressors were built to last.  Today’s regulatory and safety mandates doom appliances to a much shorter life span. She could have added that computerized features have made many appliances easier to throw out rather than repair. 

This savvy saleswoman simplified our lives.  We realized an extended warranty would hardly protect us from malfunctions that were inevitable.  Our bias in support of the good old days was reinforced.  And given her apparent knowledge and emotional sensitivity at a time of stress, we were grateful to make a quick, simple choice based on her recommendation. 

A more dramatic example of why simplicity often wins dates back 40 years ago.  At the time I subscribed to a science magazine in which one of the feature articles was about the pros and cons of jet fighters.  Today’s stealth aircraft were foreshadowed with a stark warning:  they were precariously designed to stay in the air only as long as instantaneous and constant computer adjustments to the controls were operating.  When these experimental jets were flown into simulated dog fights with old jets using simplified technology controlled largely by humans, the Wright brothers would have cheered.  You know who won.   

Why was this?  For one thing, the technology back then was undependable.  Second, human judgment and skill spelled the difference.  Without a doubt, artificial intelligence and amazing electronic communications have changed our game, but we should never sell human judgment and simple thinking short.

 Even in a world of mystifying change, simplicity can be achieved.  I think one good way is to slow down, focus on just one or two goals at a time, and forgive ourselves for being human.  Another is to leave multi-tasking to others who may be much better at it than we are.  When we limit choices deliberately, this reduces the possibility of getting paralyzed by information overload. It helps to start by getting started even when the outcome may not be clear, and some data are lacking.  Adjustments can be made afterward.

Simplicity thrives on the present moment.  Spending too much time regretting the past, or trying to predict the future, can complicate life and immobilize us.  By learning to live our days one by one, a simpler life can be achieved.  

Finally, the abundance of simplicity in our natural world should be preserved.  When you see a photo or a painting of nature, most appealing is nearly always the impression of simplicity in the scene.  I try to use this as a guide for every photo I take.  It also serves as a satisfying guide to being human.        

Figuring Out What Belongs in the Dumpster

Figuring Out What Belongs In the Dumpster

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

Once in awhile we rent a one-ton dumpster and clear out our accumulating material possessions.  We don’t think of this as unloading junk because most of it is still in good condition, having been well cared for and maintained in its previous life.  There just isn’t enough room for it any longer.  When culling the stuff, we frequently benchmark our decisions by asking, “Would our grown kids or grandchildren want it?”  However, a knot in our decisions, if not our throats, appears when we think about whether our kids would look at something we decided to keep and exclaim, “Are you serious?” or “What the heck did they want or ever use this for?” and promptly throw it out – all this as they clean the house just before or after we pass on.

Something sorrowful stalks us when the dumpster lands in our yard for a week, despite the fact that my wife actually experiences intense pleasure from methodically clearing the decks, regardless of whether what falls overboard is technically hers or mine.  She thrives on orderliness.  Everything has its place.  I agree especially when I cannot locate something and fixate on finding it.  But when it comes to mass disposal, it pains me to realize what I paid for so thoughtfully and with such financial commitment just a few years ago is now essentially worthless except to me.

Studies show people routinely overestimate the value of what they already own and are surprisingly reluctant to part with it.  Think about those reality TV shows where crusty geezers refuse to sell rusty car parts they have stored in musty sheds decades.  The same studies show people underestimate the value of other’s possessions.  After all the effort of putting price tags on items, two different worlds of value collide amidst bargaining at flea markets and yard sales.  Charities have to be choosy too, given space constraints and client needs, so instead of selling or donating, the easiest route might be the dumpster.  Ah, but it’s not.

Take, for example, my substantial collection of suits and ties.  New ones were always a shopping reward especially if they were a bargain.  I could never wear them out, so after I retired, they just hung there like a museum display. To make matters worse, as I reluctantly gained girth and lost height, these nearly new suits no longer fit.  After years of debate, I donated all of them to the Salvation Army.  But I kept the ties as a collection of nearly one thousand memories.  Periodically I visit the closet to admire my own good taste.      

The saddest part of “dumpstering” is my having to say goodbye to such a full-blown, rich collection of memories all at once.  Each object evokes a certain memory or association, a time and place one can no longer recapture except when looking at or actually using some object now due to sit in a dumpster out in the rain and in the dark.   From time to time, this painful image prompts me to regard estate auctioneers as carrion eaters.

I suppose we have to remind ourselves that material possessions of any kind have no intrinsic value other than what we credit to them.  If we all agreed gold and diamonds are utterly worthless, so they would become. Yet for those who remember the look in their loved one’s eyes when gifted with gold pendants or diamond rings, the memory is cherished.  Infused with such lasting symbolic value, our gifts literally turn into valuables.  

What is the bottom line for the dumpster squatting in the yard or driveway?  I guess it is that finding, keeping, losing and even weeping about value is a hefty part of life.  Whether we are incorrigible hoarders or dedicated purgers, the truth is we spend much of our lives sorting through values and figuring out what is worth keeping and what really belongs in the dumpster.  Just as a reminder, don’t leave your best values in storage until a dumpster arrives.  The best way to preserve and renew them is to use them!