The Absence of Physical Engagement

I have a vivid recollection from my teenage years of observing a neighborhood couple seated on their front yard, using weed pullers to extract dandelions from their lawn. I remember looking at them with contempt and thinking, “If I ever consider weeding my lawn a day’s accomplishment, shoot me.” If I had flashed forward thirty years, I would have observed the 50-something version of me happily pulling weeds from his yard. In fact, I’m pretty sure if the fifteen-year-old me could see me today, he’d probably blow his brains out. But the thing is, I’m happy being the fifty something version of me, and tinkering in the yard or in my workshop is – for me – one of life’s simple pleasures. Sure, by the middle of August I want autumn to arrive and cajole my yard into dormancy, but the joys of spring are undeniable.

But a little yard work is a far cry from mankind’s roots. For most of us, the days of hunting, gathering, farming, cutting, chiseling and building are long gone. For the past several hundred years, we’ve done everything we can to delegate our active engagement with our natural surroundings to machines or to other people. I think of the stereotypical commercials from the 1950s geared toward housewives, touting the benefits of a vacuum cleaner or dishwasher and how much time will be freed up as a result, but of course the trend to free our time started long before the post-war years, and we’re all active participants.

Few of us grow our own food. Even fewer of us create our own fabric and sew our own clothing. Not many of us can build our own homes or the furniture and household items in it. And so what, right? Mankind has flourished largely as a result of the increased efficiency of specialization. If experts take care of many of our day-to-day activities, then we can become experts in some other activity, and society as a whole benefits.

But I do wonder what’s been lost along the way, and I wonder if there is any limit to our avoidance of manual and mental labor. Those of us with yards may no longer cut our lawns, plant flowers, lay down mulch, rake leaves or shovel our driveways or sidewalks. Others may have a cleaning service for their home’s interior. Some of us no longer shop for food or other items, having them delivered to our doors instead, and most of us outsource cooking to restaurants on a regular basis. Some hire nannies or daycares to look after their children and hire tutors to manage their kids’ homework or to prepare them for college entrance exams. We may have someone else managing our finances and preparing our taxes. We may also outsource teaching things like driving, playing an instrument, playing sports, etc. And while it might make great sense to hire a company to, say, pour concrete for our driveways or rewire our homes, many of us can’t install a ceiling fan, outlet, toilet or faucet. Even the easiest of activities like painting a room are often outsourced.

And billions of people are now living in urban environments that bear no resemblance to the natural environments that our ancestors tended to. Is there something innate in humans, some connection with the Earth that’s been lost as a result?

I imagine there are loads of anthropological studies on this subject, but I’ll be damned if I know the correct key words to search for them. I couldn’t find anything relevant when I searched for articles that apply to this blog entry. But here’s my hunch:

I believe that man’s evolution away from physical engagement results in a disengagement from and a loss of empathy for our fellow human beings, the environment, and Earth itself. I think there’s some primal need we have to engage with the ground we walk upon, the air we breathe, and the waters we sail, and in foregoing engagement with our environment, we are likely denying ourselves our most meaningful existence.

I know, I sound like fricking Henry David Thoreau from Walden, a book I tried to read three times as a young adult and hated it, never getting past more than a few chapters. I wonder now if it might speak to me.

Nevertheless, those of us who can afford to write and read this blog entry have likely achieved the goal that mankind set out centuries ago: loads of free time so that we can achieve great ends. I’ve always claimed that creativity required two things: time and silence. Agatha Christie once said, "I don't think necessity is the mother of invention. Invention, in my opinion, arises directly from idleness, possibly also from laziness - to save oneself trouble.” After all, we probably don’t get Monet, Beethoven, Picasso, Frank Lloyd Wright, Hemingway, Martin Luther King, and The Beatles if they are busily tilling their farms for survival. 

On the other hand, long before Agatha Christie, the Bible’s book of Proverbs stated, “Idleness is the devil’s workshop,” and I think there’s something to this as well. Would an 18-year-old ever consider gunning down people in a Buffalo grocery store if he was tending to his crops?

Fortunately, most of us don’t go to such wicked lengths to fill our time. Instead, we play Wordl, watch gameshows and sports, read blogs, drink, snort and inject foreign substances, watch porn, get spoon-fed soundbites on social media, and happily believe whatever lies we’re told with nary a glimmer of critical thinking.

It just might be that using weed pullers to extract dandelions from your yard could be the cure that ails you.

WORDLE STRATEGIES

My daughter introduced me to Wordle last week, and in short order I determined that it was probably best to have a strategy or at least consciously choose how I want to play the game going forward. Others have undoubtedly already done this work, but I thought it would be a fun mental exercise to try to come up with the most efficient and successful methods.

To help make these decisions, I thought it best to learn what the 20 most-used letters are in the English language in order of usage. They are:

E A R I O T N S L C U D P M H G B F Y W

(NOTE: an even better bit of information would be to discover the most-used letters in five-letter words, but I’m not sure how to find this information.)

OPENING WORDS

For starters, it might make sense to guess a word that uses as many of the top-five letters as possible.  The word I came up with is RATIO, which is comprised of four of the top-five letters (A R I and O), and also the sixth (T), leaving out only E. Certainly, there are times when none of these letters will be helpful, but if you’re playing the odds, it might be a good method to follow.

Another possible first word might be one with as many highly-used consonants as possible, since vowels might not be as helpful in guessing a word. STERN would likely be a good one, as it uses the four most highly used consonants, plus the most popular vowel.

STRATEGY #1

It seems to me that the most “honest” approach to solving Wordle is to guess an initial word and then use any letters that you’ve guessed correctly in each subsequent guess. For example, if you guessed the word RATIO and Wordle tells you that the A is in the correct place and that there is a T in the word, your second guess would have to keep the A in the second position and use a T somewhere in the word. So perhaps I would guess TAMED for my second entry. This strategy certainly poses challenging scenarios, as sometimes it’s very difficult to come up with a word that uses the correctly-guessed letters, especially after three or more guesses. But that’s not how the game works; Wordle doesn’t force you to use letters that you’ve guessed correctly in subsequent guesses, which opens up the following very interesting scenarios.

STRATEGY #2

Even if I stand firm on using the word RATIO as my first guess, it might now make sense to ignore whatever letters I may or may not guess correctly in my first word and now use as many of the remaining top-ten letters as possible. I can do this by entering the word CLUES as my second guess. The words RATIO and CLUES will use up nine of the top ten most-used letters, substituting U – the 11th most-used letter – for N, so it employs ten of the top eleven letters. If I don’t get the results I’m looking for, a good third guess might be the word HANDY, which uses A once again, but now adds the heretofore unused H, N, D and Y, that latter of which is often a sneaky overlooked vowel in words like CYNIC.

Starting with RATIO, then CLUES and then HANDY, if necessary, might be a good strategy, but it doesn’t use the top fifteen letters; it uses 13 of the top 15 letters, plus Y (and A twice). There might be a better way.

STRATEGY #3

What about trying to use all of the top-15 letters in the first three guesses, regardless of how many letters you guess correctly? If I were to apply this scenario, I could guess the words MENUS, CHARD and PILOT. All fifteen top-15 letters are used. I wouldn’t worry about what letters I guessed correctly in my first two guesses; I’d simply enter these three words and then spend guesses four through six on getting the correct word.

STRATEGY #4

Finally, I might decide that I really want to include the letter Y in one of my first three guesses, since this letter can often be used as a vowel. In this case, I might enter the following words: PRICE, LUSTY and MANGO, which encompasses 13 of the top 15 letters, plus G and Y in place of D and H.

THE HYPOTHESIS

There may be two objectives in determining which strategy to employ: the one that’s most successful and the one that’s most challenging, as sometimes it’s good to make the brain work hard. I believe STRATEGY #1 will be the most challenging, but my guess is STRATEGY #3 will probably be the most successful.

To find out, I’m going to play five games of Wordle using all four methods (plus an additional attempt at Strategy 1 using a different word). Sure, the results won’t be statistically significant, but it’ll be at least a clue into how best to approach the game.

THE RESULTS

I played twenty-five Wordle games, and given my limitation as a wordsmith, here are the results:

Strategy 1A (Starting with RATIO and sticking with correctly-guessed letters) is definitely the hardest, as expected. I got four of five words, but it took a long while, ranging from 100 seconds to over seven minutes (yeah, I know. I was stumped). Now, this strategy may work for someone who’s very quick and clever with words, but for me this didn’t work.

Strategy 1B (Starting with STERN and sticking with correctly-guessed letters) had better results. I got four of five words again, but my times were quicker: from 55 seconds to just over two minutes.

Strategy 2 (Starting with RATIO and CLUES) was very quick when it worked, but it only worked 3 of 5 times. When I guessed correctly, my times ranged from twenty-one seconds to a bit under two minutes. 

Strategy 3 (Starting with MENUS, CHARD and PILOT) was the most successful. I got all five correct – three of them in four turns, which is of course the fewest turns this strategy allows. Additionally, my times were pretty good, with three under a minute, one at 90 seconds, and one that took just over three minutes (and shouldn’t have taken that long. I was being dim.)

Strategy 4 (Starting with PRICE, MANGO and LUSTY) worked pretty well, but not as successfully at Strategy 3. I got four of five correct, ranging from 33 seconds to just under three minutes.

CONCLUSIONS

So which method is best?  In terms of brainpower, I think I would go with Strategy 1A: use RATIO as my first guess and then use any correctly-guessed letters ongoing. If I don’t want to exert myself quite so much, STERN would probably be a better bet.

For speed and wins, Strategy 3 (Starting with MENUS, CHARD and PILOT) appears to be best, though I only tested the methods five times. It may be that strategies 2 or 4 are better over the long haul.

Of course, there are words that will be a challenge regardless of strategy, and sometimes I come upon a word that I simply don’t know. I imagine other players employ slightly different methods for solving their puzzles, but having a strategy is probably a better bet than just winging it.

I’ll likely immerse myself in Wordle for a week or two and then go back to my dreaded crossword puzzles, an art form that I will never remotely master.

Is Collecting Vinyl Pretentious?

Last week Katie Edwards of the Independent had a little fun with a provocative essay on how pointless ownings records is. She writes from the viewpoint of a fed-up wife whose vinyl-collecting husband has taken over a third of her dining room. To which I say, “Hey, at least it’s not half.”

But seriously, I think Edwards was writing partly for the thrill of poking the bear, knowing that geeky audiophiles would blow a gasket, because midway through her essay she actually answers her own question of why people purchase vinyl. She writes, “Perhaps it’s the experience of vinyl that’s the clincher? The same way I like to hold a physical copy of a book and turn actual pages rather than read an electronic version.”

I can’t speak for all vinyl collectors, but for me, that’s it, exactly. I’ve never bought into the claim that vinyl sounds better than other formats. I’ve also never owned records that I’m reluctant to play – as Edwards’s husband apparently is – for fear that they’ll get damaged. And I don’t eschew streaming music; according to Spotify, I streamed over 139 hours of music in 2021, 55% more than the average Spotify listener.

But streaming doesn’t just make music portable, it also makes it disposable. I’ve invested nothing into downloading the latest Sammy Rae EP (but you should do so – she’s amazing!). Not money. Not time. Not changing the dial on the radio. Worse, I don’t know who plays on her album, who produced it, where it was recorded or who wrote the songs. Her songs exist in the ether, as if they just appeared one day through no effort of gifted musicians. Vinyl and other physical formats force the listener to reckon with the music, to establish a relationship with it, and to devote physical space to it.

Katie Edwards concedes all of this, but then wonders if the real reason people buy vinyl is to flaunt their tastes over those whose musical knowledge they consider pedestrian. Edwards writes, “Having a showy collection of vinyl – that owners have to pull out and parade in front of uninterested guests stifling yawns – is a display of pretentiousness that turns me right off.”  She also writes, “ I just can’t be bothered with the inevitable scoffing by self-described music buffs who consider themselves authorities on taste just because they’ve got a couple of obscure LPs.”

Okay, I cry bullshit here. If she actually has friends who’ve scoffed at her musical tastes, then she needs to find new friends. More likely, I think Edwards is writing to provocate (as she apparently did me!). Either that or she’s projecting her own insecurities on her music-loving friends, the same way any insecure person might do to describe any other human endeavor.

For example, I have a friend who has a very impressive wine cellar in his basement and likes to present good bottles of wine for gatherings. I don’t really know anything about wine except that I like to drink it. Now, I could be intimidated by this and accuse my friend of arrogance, but really – I just think it’s cool. He’s into something I’m not into. I have no aspirations of becoming a wine aficionado, but I’m glad he is, and I’m happy to ask a few questions so that he can share his enthusiasm with me. The next time he comes over to my house, I will have no problems opening up a $12 bottle of cabernet. I don’t think he’ll judge me for it. I think he’ll ask for a glass.

Similarly, Edwards should have no problem streaming the Heart song “Alone” for her friends, as she claims she’s reluctant to do. If they truly look down on her as a result, then shame on them.

But methinks she doth protest too much. She must know that “Alone” blows.

Ha, I actually like that song. Two can play this provocation game!

What we keep. What we discard.

It’s been a while, but I’ll start knocking out blogs on a more regular basis in the months ahead. There are a lot of things percolating in my head that need an outlet, and one just came to light this morning as I read two articles in The New York Times about collecting – or discarding – stuff. 

I’ve written about this topic before. In fact, one of my first blogs (July of 2010!) was about my “saver” father and my “discarder” mom, and how these two diametrically opposed characteristics shaped me into the person I am today. Since the pandemic started nearly two years ago, there have been many articles written about decluttering and how it can improve people’s lives. After all, clutter has been shown to increase anxiety, put strain on familial relationships, affect sleeping habits, ruin household incomes, and the like. But discarding possessions also carries an emotional burden. My father and my wife’s mother are both contending with discarding in fairly short order that which they spent a lifetime accumulating, and it can be an overwhelming process: it’s hard to know where to begin, hard to know how to part with something that you feel defines you or is a part of the grand narrative of your life’s story, and on a more practical level, it’s not often apparent what to actually do with the stuff one’s chosen to discard. Who’ll take the collection of fishing lures? The seashells? The artwork? The National Geographic magazines? Should you just throw them out? You can’t, can you? After all the care you’ve given these objects for so many years?

Sadly, a dumpster or recycling bin is where a lot of our stuff will go – whether it’s before we die or after – and I imagine that this realization gives us visceral feeling of our own mortality, recognition that all that we’ve accumulated will be gone when we are gone, that most of what we leave behind is people’s memories of our existence, and that in a generation or two, even that will be gone. We will have never existed.

Weighty stuff!

But dang, I love that collectors exist. I need then to exist, even if it means that they lead stressful lives because of it. I love that the pandemic inspired Iowan barber Brian Hogan to build a video rental store in his basement! I love that there are record stores and vintage clothing stores, and that my friend has a collection of tickets stubs and signed programs and photos of the concerts he’s attended over the decades. I love that another friend of mine recently purchased an antique Coke vending machine to accompany his jukebox of 45 rpm records. I love that I have a program, pennant and tickets stubs from the 1957 World Series hanging on my wall. I love that my paternal grandfather saved so much stuff that I could practically write a novel about his live in the 1920s. I had to discard much of what he saved, but I kept enough. Enough to have an idea of what his life was like, what he was like.

In 2012, I quoted Rabbi W. Gunther Plaut about how views on possessions change over time, and what was once cherished garners nothing more but indifference later in life.  This is likely the natural order of things. 

I’m not quite there yet. The pandemic forced me to go through some items, and while I was happy to discard clothing, storage bins, framed artwork and old furniture, the stuff I’m keeping – the record albums, the photographs, books, letters, memories of my children – this stuff I’m holding onto with gusto. This stuff is a manifestation of who I am. My kids may hate me for it. Their kids may one day hate me for it.  But for now these possessions still define me. There may be a day when that changes, when I can freely discard what I own without – as Rabbi Plaut wrote – an ounce of regret. But if my father is any indication, that ain’t gonna happen!

And I may one day take a cue from Brian Hogan and open a record rental store in my basement.

Using a Password Manager

Keeping track of logins had become a source of stress and frustration for me years ago, but since I’m a glutton for punishment, I did nothing to change the situation: I kept a six-page list of usernames and passwords that I’d printed from an Excel spreadsheet (deleting the file, of course) and on which I had scribbled in a multitude of additional logins over the past several years. Goodness, I had a lot of passwords to keep track of.

But no more! I finally bit the bullet and subscribed to a password manager – Bitwarden in my case – and after a day of figuring things out and entering all of my information, I’m happy to say that I am positively giddy about my decision.

I’m no expert, so I encourage you to read more on-line, but in a nutshell a password manager keeps track of all of your logins, allowing you to change passwords quickly and safely (and to ones that are more challenging to hack into).  All you have to remember is one master password to log into your manager.  That’s it. If all goes according to plan, I will remember just one password for the rest of my life. This will no doubt come in mighty handy as I age, as there have already been times at Target when I froze because I couldn’t immediately recall my 4-digit PIN.

If the thought of having one service storing all of your data scares you, you are a wise person!  Read on.

It was tricky to know which password manager to use; I spent hours going down the rabbit hole of professional reviews, user reviews, ratings, features and costs, and it quickly became overwhelming. Ultimately, I decided to go with the one CNET described as the best free password manager – Bitwarden.  I have no problem paying for a service, and I may eventually upgrade to one of Bitwarden’s premium subscriptions, but I figured I had nothing to lose by just trying out the software and seeing what it’s all about.

I set up my account and immediately didn’t know what I was looking at. YouTube to the rescue! I don’t know the guy’s name who posted the following videos for the Password Bits channel, but his instructions were impeccable:

Bitwarden Beginners Guide https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30QqIeb1Pu4
Using Bitwarden on Android https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nyqxR20I1NY

I followed these instructions almost to a “T”, deleting my saved passwords on Google, as well as my stored credit card information, and proceeding from there. I first got everything working seamlessly on my desktop and then set things up on my mobile device. Things don’t run quite as smoothly on my Android – I often have to do an extra click or two, and occasionally have to copy and paste a password – but it still works quit well, and I can open Bitwarden with my fingerprint. I suspect I’ll eventually get a finger scanner for my desktop so that I don’t have to use my master password on that either. (But keep in mind that if you NEVER have to enter your master password, you will likely forget your master password. This could come back to haunt you.)

Speaking of master passwords, if you lose yours you are screwed. Seriously. Your password manager will not be able to get it for you. Because of this, I have a copy of mine saved in my safe deposit box just in case. You could also ask a friend or loved one to keep a copy for you someplace safe. As for the rest of my passwords, for now I still have the six-page sheet in my house, but as I start to change passwords to safer word/number/character combinations, that sheet will become obsolete and shredded.

As for the legitimate safety concern of storing all of your passwords in one place, I encourage you to read this article and several others to help guide you to a decision that’s right  for you. 

ALSO, keep in mind something called the Double Blind Password Strategy.  This is a fantastic idea, and one that will ensure that your most sensitive login information – perhaps for banking, investments, email and social media – are never breached, even in the unlikely event that someone manages to access your password manager account. I will be utilizing this strategy once I get everything set up and synched with my wife’s account.

With Bitwarden, you can share logins with your partner for free, or with your family for a very reasonable fee.  So once I get my spouse set up, we will have shared access to some of our common logins, like travel and shopping websites.

If you’ve been on the fence about using a password manager, I strongly encourage you to hop off and give one a try.  It sure beats the alternative stress-inducing password management system: one’s brain.