Good morning!
We have a
new lawn sign (for those of you who are not Facebook friends of mine).
We will have an opinion about *which* functioning adult it
should be, as the electoral process continues, but for now this is sufficient.
* * *
We had a
delightful six days with our Scottish friends Rod & Morag. To get to Minneapolis they took a trip I've
always wanted to take: the Empire
Builder from Seattle. They stopped along
the way a couple of times and thoroughly enjoyed the journey. I told them I was jealous.
They
arrived on a dismal Monday; it was cold and raining. So we just did a driving trip around the city
and went to the Museum of Russian Art, the only museum we could find that was
open on a Monday. We had intended to take
them there anyway, so it wasn't a fallback.
(Note to Twin Cities friends: If
you haven't been there, it's well worth a visit. The largest collection of Soviet-era art
outside of Russia.) I was disappointed
in the museum in one sense, however: the
core of the collection, Soviet art, was in storage in order to have other displays. I think that's a shame—they should *never*
have that collection stored because it's the most interesting pieces they have.
Because it
was still raining and cool, so nothing outdoors was possible, we went to the
Blue Door in St. Paul for a beer and burgers.
About as close to a pub as you get in the Twin Cities, with the possible
exception of Merlin's Rest on Lake Street.
(I know, I know, there are other places around the area that are
pub-like.)
In trying
to decide what visitors from Europe who've never been to Minnesota should see,
we decided that the North Shore and Lake Superior are quintessentially
Minnesota. So Kathy found a marvelous
lakeside log cabin between Lutsen and Grand Marais, about two hours up Highway
61 from Duluth on the North Shore. It
was so well-furnished and equipped that we couldn't figure out how to run the pull-out
dishwasher. Rod was the only one who
could make it work.
On the drive up, we stopped in
Duluth to have lunch with our friends Barb & Tom Elliott, who have a home with
a back yard on Lake Superior. I was
extremely grateful to Tom & Barb for accepting my invitation to their home;
it turned out to be a delightful 2½ hours that included spreading out maps on
their dining room table so Rod & Morag could get the "big picture"
of Lake Superior and the Great Lakes.
(We learned from Tom that it takes 5 days for an ore ship to go from
Duluth to the ocean through the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence Seaway and
that it's a 2500-mile trip.) I met Barb
Elliott through University committee service and worked closely with her for
several years; she's one of those people who I quickly realized was able to
make decisions that somehow seemed to benefit both the parties involved as well
as the University and who garnered extraordinary respect from her faculty and
administrative colleagues. I like it
when such people consider me a friend.
The day
before we left Minneapolis it rained about 2 inches in the Duluth area. That came on top of an unusually wet summer
(over much of the state—the wettest summer since records have been kept, going
back to the 19th century). As
a consequence, when we stopped at Gooseberry Falls, the water was roaring so
loudly we could hardly hear ourselves talk.
(Rod, Morag, Kathy—and lots of water behind them.) There have been times when the water is so
low that one can walk across that site on the boulders. Not when we were there.
We observed
the same phenomenon at the Cascade and Temperance Rivers: more water and more noise than we'd ever seen
and heard.
On the way
home we stopped at the Split Rock Lighthouse, which, I told Rod & Morag, is
probably the most iconic representation of the North Shore. (Do my Minnesota friends disagree with that
description?) The visitor center at the
Lighthouse is impressive and it includes a video about its history. The video is accompanied by a narrative and
music that convey a great sense of drama surrounding the events that led to the
construction of the lighthouse and its subsequent life. It is considerably more dramatic than
warranted, I thought; it's a lighthouse, for Pete's sake. But one comes away with a feel-good sense
that the lighthouse saved lives and ships that might otherwise have foundered
on the reefs of the lake. (As quite a
number did in a storm in 1905, which event is what prompted the shipowners to
seek the construction of a lighthouse.)
As I
thought about the lighthouse on the drive home from the North Shore, I realized
that it was possible to put a more cynical interpretation on the events. The millionaire mine owners, ship owners, and
steel mill owners were seeing the loss of significant profits when ore ships
kept going down on the lake. Yes, I'm sure some of those magnates were
concerned about the loss of life, but let's be honest, their primary concern
was profit. So, courtesy of the
taxpayers of the country, they got a lighthouse built. In the meantime, the miners were working in
abysmal conditions in northern Minnesota (take the Soudan mine tour sometime)
and I doubt the sailors and steel mill workers were highly paid. It is possible to look at the lighthouse as
another example of the taxpayers subsidizing the money-making ventures of the
wealthy. (But on the other hand, I
recognize that federal and state governments build all kinds of infrastructure
that supports business and industry as well as the general population. I think the mine, ship, and mill owners could
have coughed up the money for their lighthouse, however.)
Speaking of
the wealthy, we also took Rod & Morag to the Mill City Museum. To have any sense of the history of the city,
you have to know its grain-milling history. We'd never been there and came away impressed. It's well done, and even features my distant
cousin, Cadwallader Washburn (he of the Washburn-Crosby Company that became
General Mills in the late 1920s). Also
featured are John Pillsbury (of the eponymous grain-milling and later food
company and considered "the father of the University" of Minnesota
because he stepped in to save it when it was at risk of going under during the
Civil War period). The museum, in the
remnants of one of the huge grain mills, has interesting displays and a funny
video history of Minneapolis. For the
locals, I'd recommend a visit, especially if you have out-of-town company.
We wrapped
up their stay with a visit to the American Swedish Institute (which now has a
great café) and a walk through Minnehaha Park and along the Mississippi. I blush to confess that because we had a
couple of spare hours, in taking them to the airport we detoured slightly so
they could walk around in the Mall of America.
(Yes, we are embarrassed.)
Unfortunately, it has also become a symbol of Minnesota, so it was worth
an hour's walk around just to see another part of the culture. We didn't buy anything.
We're
looking forward to another travel adventure with Rod & Morag at some point
down the road. (We've met them in
Barcelona, Rome, and the Lake District of England, and also stayed at their
home in Scotland twice.)
* * *
Researchers
at the University of Missouri have been investigating arrogance. Besides being interesting, at least to me,
they also suggest that such research could help in evaluation of personality
disorders. They created a model of
different kinds of arrogance; it's novel, so it may not survive later research,
but it's an intriguing start.
The analysis
suggest three kinds of arrogance, which they illustrated with a pyramid.
"Individual arrogance—an inflated opinion of one’s own
abilities, traits, or accomplishments compared to the truth. [aka Dunning-Krueger]
"Comparative arrogance—an inflated ranking of one’s own
abilities, traits, or accomplishments compared to other people.
"Antagonistic arrogance—the denigration of others based
on an assumption of superiority."
Everyone is
arrogant in some way, they contend; the question is how and to what
degree. If nothing else, the six
different elements provide a way to measure and confront one's own sense of
arrogance.
From your
superior friend,
Gary
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