An Unforgettable Journey

I want to chronicle an unforgettable journey.
 
It finished with the birth of my daughter under a halo of joy.  But the turning point - the point when everything came full circle - happened during a lonely lunch downtown a week earlier.  The lone-diner must have made some impression giving several fist-pumps in a dusty lounge area.

I hope to explain why those fist-pumps hung a "halo" onto my joy a week or so later.

This is not a book review of Infinite Jest.  Rather, I want to tell about reading that book in a crazy year and how it all led to a cheerful welcome to my daughter, Amalia, with the help of a British Bulldog.  The process included vigorous intellectual challenges to worldview, inescapable illustrations of a farcical and flawed world through a "post-modern" lens (and the worries associated therewith), and, finally, an anchor-drop back to a more "modern" philosophical safe haven that literally parted storm clouds after a flood.

It was a long and brutal battle through serious introspection and macro contemplation shaded with an unsettling skeptical tint... until Winston Churchill reminded me to welcome Amalia to the good in our world as well.

The Process

Nearly every description of the process (yes, process) of reading Infinite Jest includes the same themes:  1) the book is long and tough to read (this is where people complain... mostly about footnotes); 2) it is either brilliant prose or insane drivel (and nothing in between); and 3) "I have no idea what just happened, so I need to read it again" or "I will now burn it." (again, one or the other).

My take as to each of those conventional themes is as follows: 1) yes, indeed, it is long and tough, but put your back in to it!; 2) Brilliant!; and 3) I have peace with the book's ending and I know what it meant to me and how it ended in my own mind, and that's fine for me. (Also, Aaron Swartz' description of the plot ending was spot on).

But, I really want to just summarize reading this book during this particular year and how I found balance.  The year 2013 will long live in my memory as heavy and rewarding.  It has been equal-parts magical and heart-wrenching.  And, I have no idea where this is going, but I accept each day.

We welcomed new daughter Amalia into the world on September 16, 2013.  I began reading Infinite Jest around the time we learned about her presence.  That is not to say I spent nine entire months reading it, but I did start it nearly nine months before I finished.  I read it in two sessions; the first three hundred pages in February and March, and then the rest from June through early-September.

I have chronicled much of my feelings about the book already.  It was challenging in unique ways.  Among those challenges were repeats of unhappy memories and a farcical look at the world that hit close to home.  Like any impacting work and time-consuming book, I saw much of the world through its lens while reading it.  This means, I was subjected to a darker tint than normal for an inordinate amount of time.  IJ is a post-modern work, and that requires its own explanation.

"What does post-modern even mean?"

That's a good question, and one that my co-blogger asks every time I try to discuss this point.  So, I think it can only help to quickly explain it (as I understand it) and contrast it with "modern" thought.  

I have to fall back to a law school class I took called jurisprudence.  We discussed the competing modern vs. post-modern legal schools of thought, and I can boil the difference down this way:  Either everything is relative (post modern) or clear lines of right and wrong exist (modern).  For all the nuance, that is what I took to be the difference.  It is certainly looked at as "hip" and more high-minded to take the post-modern view, and the modern school of thought is often mocked for its old-timer charms, complete with a view of it as naive.

I have debated the merits of these schools of thought both internally and externally.  I have long felt a pull toward post-modern ideas, but I just cannot shake a strong belief in the existence of a clearly-defined moral boundary.  Mike and I have discussed it, and neither of us have ever been able to set aside all that is black-and-white.

So, although I have a great sympathy with the idea of much being relative and outlooks or paradigms driving much of our moral world, I DO still believe in the existence of certain truths we all need to accept.  I will not claim a monopoly on how to determine which ones hold as "true," but I believe there are certain non-debatable truths in the world.

Infinite Jest is a sad book.  Its humor is akin to a political joke because enough truth exists to be depressing even while funny.  It is a book with a muddying-impact to any reader's view of the world through the refracting lenses of complex characters and brilliant illustrations.  It will make a person question much about the world and how it should be viewed.

It makes for an all-time great book, but it is not exactly how you want to welcome a cherished soul into life.

I dove into the Abyss of Infinite Jest, wrestled with a monster, and survived with a saddened, but fulfilled outlook.  I believe I was able to put it into perspective, however, only by swapping gray for some old-fashioned black-and-white.

Only a counter-weight allowed me to emerged scarred enough to get the point, yet balanced. Without balance, I could see a person hating Infinite Jest or, worse, taking a form of nosedive. Descent through dark places can be rewarding provided a person can find a light at the end.  Sometimes, in the absence of natural light, we must create our own.

In the end, although full of vigor for having finished, I needed a dynamic rescuer.  And, to quote William Manchester from The Last Lion, "In London there was such a man."

Winston to the Rescue

I found myself wandering around downtown looking for a place to eat lunch.  I had finished the most challenging book of my life; the world was racing in front of me through an unsettling, but compelling lens; and I awaited the arrival of a person who will need me to provide some context to a complicated place.

I remember thinking, "what should I read next to do right by her?" 

So, I sat down for a lonely lunch and started my next book.  The Last Lion, Volume I: Winston Spencer Churchill: Visions of Glory 1874-1932 by William Manchester set me right with the world.

This widely-respected series by William Manchester about the life of Winston Churchill has been recommended to me more times than I can count.  Its final book was published in 2012 even though the first volume came out in 1984.  Manchester did not live to see the final book, and it was published posthumously and completed by Paul Reid.

At lunch, alone, and with my worldview spiraling in my own head, I started The Last Lion.  The introduction serves for all three books and summarizes the life of Winston Churchill in the most entertaining and inspiring narrative I have read in many, many years.

A few examples that got me pumping my fist alone in a dimly-lit restaurant.

"Now at last, at last, his hour had struck.  He had been waiting in Parliament for forty years, had grown bald and gray in his nation's service, had endured slander and calumny only to be summoned when the situation seemed hopeless to everyone except him."

"His only weapons were an unconquerable will and an incipient sense of immortality."

I have raised my son with an intentional bend toward tenacity.  It is a trait I believe any child needs to navigate the world.  I am proud of his maturity and tenacity and am impressed that he wraps it all in a very sweet package of empathy.  Jacob makes me very proud.  Reading this introduction reminded me about the values of valor and balanced me away from the edge of a post-modern slouch-fest.

When I tell about tenacity, Winston will be the example.  A man who jumped 30 feet off a bridge (and was knocked out for three full days as a result) just to avoid being "it" for a game of tag (don't worry, I won't teach him to be THAT reckless); a man who found no trouble with peer pressure when compared to his own moral compass; and a man who found clarity in the world while expanding his capacity for empathy and humor.  And, so long as Jacob isn't nearly the pain in the butt Mr. Churchill could be (his school boy years were legendary for mischief), he will always be an example to follow.  
I am often amazed at the attitude of many Britons toward Winston Churchill.  I even met one person from the region who seemed surprised at my respect for him.  "He was an imperialist!" she said.  This line summed up my confusion:

"America is struck by the facility with which so many British intellectuals slight the man who saved their country."

Needless to say, I was back on board.  Balance restored.  I then began devouring the book, and I plan to devour the series.  I may not be on board with either post-modernist or modernist thought in any thorough sense, but I am firmly on the side of Team Churchill.  (The video below is an example of his wit and charm, and the sound kicks in after about 40 seconds).


As we awaited our precious daughter, I quoted long passages to Jen and relayed some amazing stories.  I was also quoting extensively of a man I consider brilliant beyond words. He is also extremely funny, and so many of the stories made me laugh out loud.

One of my favorite quotes was:  "All babies look like me."  He was right about that!

Let It Rain... And Shine

It rained a lot leading to Ama's birth.  So much, in fact, that I had to watch closely to make sure none of the roads between home and the hospital were flooded.  Much of our region was flooded and the devastation was enormous.  It was the most damaging flood since... well, since about the time I was born.  That's right, we haven't seen a flood like this around here since I was about a month old.

It rained for days and days.  We watched video clips of US Highway 34 being totally destroyed.  Much of South Loveland was badly flooded and Estes Park became all but inaccessible.  Jacob's school was closed and we waited for our little girl to arrive amid the pinging of constant rain.

In an odd sense, it was metaphorical to my world.  I had just finished one of the most wrenching books I have ever read (Infinite Jest).  It is a book that will make you think.  It will also darken any reader's doorstep.  It is a sad book, and one that does not paint our world in the best of lights.  

But, as the due date approached, I felt a full sense of balance and the clouds parted.  We must find our light, and that requires that we seek it.  Winston Churchill put me to balance, and Amalia lifted me up.

It was still rainy when I took Jen into the hospital at about 2:40 a.m., but the skies were clear when Amalia emerged looking strangely like Winston Churchill.  I remember bright sunlight coming into the hospital room when she was born.  And all was right with the world.