The Possibilities of Virtual Community

The following link should take the reader to a PDF of a paper I wrote in the Spring of 2011 on virtual community. Enjoy and feedback. (formatting issues are shameful..just sayin)


Marty

Also...thanks to the great sustained ones on The Well.


http://web02.gonzaga.edu/comlstudentresources/COML%20509%20Final%20Paper%20Lane.pdf

Moral Foundations: In the Moment

 I learned as a toddler that Peter Rabbit’s antics in Farmer McGregor’s garden were inappropriate. This was a powerful lesson for a malleable young mind. I don’t imagine I ever intentionally sought moral development in my early formative years. Most of the factors shaping my sense of right and wrong were inadvertent experiences and lessons that quietly birthed moral qualities much like the distasteful architecture and poor poetry were the delicate nuances which unobtrusively affected C.S. Lewis’ worldview. The experiences, role models, stories, and adversities contributing to my moral development must surely be countless and most lost to memory. A few are outstanding.

When I was about twenty, I was visiting my parents at their home in the country. On a walk, I found a large boulder overlooking a lake and settled on it to reflect and enjoy the view. After a few minutes, I had a sensation of longing. C.S. Lewis talks about this longing and describes it as “joy”  This was a remarkably clear remembrance of the way I perceived life as a child—a life characterized by a delightful enjoyment of the present moment unhindered by the burdens and stifling notions of an emerging adulthood. My response to this profound experience was a conviction of the goodness and primacy of the present moment and that attentiveness to it was essential to live my life well. Educator, Peter Vaill asserts that this intentional awareness of the present moment is an element of spiritual growth that is supremely significant  I pursue this practice as a means toward galvanizing my actions.

Morphing Worldviews

What influences may prompt or facilitate a transformation in worldview in adulthood?

"Transformation” means a thing becomes a something new and different. A caterpillar transforms into a butterfly. I transform eggs, flour, oil, and milk into a pile of crepes. A plastic car transforms into a manlike robot.  Something wholly different arrives on the scene—not simply small tweakings but more akin to a major overhaul. Indeed, our views are informed and change continually, but it seems they mostly stay inside an envelope. Does a transformation in worldview suggest something expansive, boundary crossing, and more than a mere switching from coffee to tea?

I am able to reflect on three distinctive alterations in my worldview I have had as an adult. If I include the worldview established as a child into adolescence, I have tasted four such worldviews in my life. These experiences offer a helpful picture of some of the influences that prompt such profound change. 

The first occurred in the years from about age 20-22. The influence was immersion into an alternative culture of what was described as “turning on and dropping out.” The impact of the music, the iconic figures of the era, the books and poetry, and the drugs, upended my relatively conservative world. When I was 24 I had another transformation in my worldview. This next radical change was precipitated by a sustained curiosity and pursuit of what I called “Truth.” This change was also influenced by an actual experience that was mystical and profound. I consumed Christian literature and immersed myself in the Scriptures. My ideas morphed drastically and quickly to a Biblical worldview. In recent years, this decade’s long worldview has been challenged by fractured trust in the delivery systems of that worldview, by reading in new areas, and by delving into new friendships providing me with objective questions for my long held assumptions. The extrinsic practices of my Biblical worldview have fallen away. What was intrinsic lingers.  We all suffer from delusions and when we are informed with better or extended facts and experiences, we are led into new lands (Nicholi, 2002, p. 52).

How open are you to the worldview you do not embrace?

My openness to other worldviews is heightened now probably more than any time in my life. My month- long first visit to Europe this past summer served to enhance an internal work-in-progress. The classes I took in Italy reinforced the already-forming conviction of the hindrance inherent in my need to be right. I am learning to allow other ideas to be heard and pondered carefully. Where at one time I was almost rabid in my insistence that others think like me, I am now more inclined to think that my thoughts are not always right or safe (Freeman, 2000, p. 38). This is convenient since I am currently surrounded by many who hold another worldview. I notice in myself a kneejerk aversion to many of the platitudes and condescending attitudes of those who embrace that other paradigm, but have come to resolve it quickly with a hearty release.

Describe your thought processes as you weigh the evidence both for and against embracing a particular worldview?

It seems there is an emotional intelligence that can be nurtured by listening carefully to input and being attentive to internal responses to ideas or experiences. The more I pay attention to them, the more faithful a voice they become in selecting what I will embrace. I hold to those ideas that I am certain are true and use them as a guide to new information, hopefully with an openness to any needed reform. Though at one time I participated in a kind of groupthink which produced stringent political, social, and theological views, I hope with this in my history, I am now better able to weigh evidence objectively. (Freeman, 2000, p. 43). The conscience factor and the presence of the universal moral code seem to be a great weighing tool. (Nicholi, 2002, pp. 57-59). I think this may also link back to my thoughts on listening and emotional intelligence. Twinges of the “wrongness” of an idea are felt interiorly as well as the sense of wholeness and joy in perceiving a “right” paradigm. If an idea causes a knee-jerk judgmental or cynical response, intentionally noticing, I try to assess the source of my issue and release my attachment to my views (Freeman, 2000, p. 39). I think this kind of intentionality goes a long way toward facilitating a broader understanding without forsaking the essence of my worldview.

References

Freeman, S. (2000). Ethics: An introduction to philosophy and practice. Belmont, CA: Thomson Wadsworth.

Nicholi, A. (2002). The Question of God. New York, NY: Simon and Schuster.

 

michelangelo's ceiling

Ezekiel

 For two weeks this summer I absorbed the art and culture of  Rome and Florence.  My second day in Rome included a visit to the Sistine Chapel. This past month since I returned has been invested in reading books about Michelangelo and his colossal painting project. The living experience and the reading is now distilled in a lengthy paper titled, "Michelangelo's Ceiling". The following is the beginning and ending of that paper.

Introduction

“I grew up in Rome and was so familiar with Michelangelo that I never questioned whether his work looked now as it had in his own day. I took it for granted than one could hardly make out the figures on Michelangelo’s ceiling, so deeply were they hidden in dark shadow.”  Robin Richmond in Michelangelo and the Creation of the Sistine Chapel

In 1980, a team of experts headed by Guianluigi  Colalucci began a sophisticated multi-million dollar restoration of the Sistine Chapel vault funded by the Japanese television station, NTV. Michelangelo and his assistants invested less time in painting the ceiling than this team took to rid it of layers of candle smoke, incense, brazier fumes, and effects of “the breath of the 17,000 daily visitors, who release more than four hundred kilos of water into the air, setting off a damaging cycle of condensation." The “removal of five centuries of scum revealed such unexpectedly brilliant colors that the Vatican restorers were accused by their detractors of having created a ‘Benetton Michelangelo.’”

The restoration project was rebuked by critics who believed Michelangelo simply was “preoccupied with form at the expense of color.” Most would concur that “His work emerges from the cleaning as a miracle of painting” 

In the summer of 2011 I visited this revered chapel with a group of students and faculty—all part of a graduate program at Gonzaga University. As a visual artist with many of the celebrated images of the Sistine ceiling already animated in my mind, entering this sanctified space was consuming. We stood with hundreds of other tourists on the chapel floor with our heads tilted backwards in an appropriate homage to the man whose neck was in a similar position for countless hours in the four years he invested painting the 12,000 square foot “canvas.”

Conclusion

I grew up in a home filled with ideas, books, stimulating conversations, a love of curiosity, and lots of beautiful art. My mother utilized a spacious wall in our living room to hang paintings borrowed from our local library. She rotated them regularly and spaced them closely together so there were at least ten on that wall at any given time. She also fashioned a coffee table from an old round kitchen table with the legs cut off.  She had a heavy piece of glass cut for the top and carefully arranged pictures of notable paintings under the glass. All of these works of art were with me every day and filled my consciousness with delight in the variety of colors, forms, textures, compositions, and…stories. I am grateful for this, my mother-rhetor’s legacy and I see a parallel gift in Michelangelo’s Sistine ceiling which serves as a decidedly successful rhetorical act generated by a man whose energy, skill, and fearlessness are evident in his life and work

"what is left over after the education stops?"

My mind is still reflecting on Italy much of the day. I look back at my photos frequently and they stir up thoughts of class lectures and discussions as well as the face-to-face with art, architecture, and stories embodied in our many outings. The readings done before arriving in Europe were animated by the experiences and re-reading those same documents now evokes a frequent “aha!”

One of the more interesting refrains in my thoughts is the diverse possibility of rhetoric which is included in “the discovery of all available means of persuasion” (Caputo). Rhetoric is usually assumed to reside within the confines of public speaking. We “met” some incredible rhetors in our two weeks (including Paul Savonarola). But to take rhetoric beyond this was a new concept for me and I think it serves to enhance mindfulness of what is happening in my environment as I begin to see meaning and influence embodied in artifact. We were immersed in these visual rhetorical artifacts in Rome and Florence: Cosimo’s turtles, family crests, the Vatican, paintings, domes, bridges….all containers of ideas and meaning and purpose. As a visual artist and art instructor, I find this adds credibility and depth to what I seek to create and teach.

The final day in Florence I experienced a kind of sensory overload. I remember sitting in La Lampara with Deb on our last day. We had just eaten an amazing lunch and had a glass or two of wine and knew we had a pretty long hike to the Galileo Museum. I admitted to her that I would much rather stay and talk or go back to the room. It was not that I was disinterested, but maybe feeling in my emotions like my stomach was feeling at the moment….really stuffed.

I imagine Renaissance Florence provided a concentration of creativity and new ideas. As it was then, so now. I returned to the states with stops in New York, Michigan, and South Carolina before coming home to New Mexico. In these travels and at home I occasionally notice architectural and art “wanabees”….reflections of the originals in architecture and art that I never before realized were not original….never really thought about it at all. The impact of coffee table books come to life in Florence was huge for me. The concerns of my real life back home faded as I found myself each day waking up to something exciting and forming. The seven Da Vincian principles and the lectures revolving around them still find place in my daily journaling. The rhetoric of Machiavelli, Savanarola, Catherine, and Dante find application in my thinking and conversations.  I think that these personal experiences may reflect somewhat the response of Florentines to the “no limits” creative life in this city at this dynamic juncture in history.

Is there one single image that burns bright in my mind from this time in Rome and Florence?  That is a difficult question. As a painter, this question reminds me of “what’s your favorite color”….and for me it has always been impossible to play favorites with my palette. If I were to reflect on an image(s) that burns bright in my mind from this time in Florence/Rome , several pop into mind: The Sistine Chapel,  David, The Prisoners of Michelangelo, Bartolini’s Nymph and the Scorpion, The Duomo, The Coliseum, and  St. Peter’s Basilica. But if I answer the question tomorrow, it may be a new set of images…..the Market in Florence was incredible.

In the final analysis, we want to see our knowledge of the function of rhetoric realized in practical application. A dynamic vision for an organization, a community, a family, or a relationship warrants the “discovery of all means of persuasion.” Knowledge of the extent and potency inherent in the various forms of rhetoric must be joined with mindfulness and intentionality on the part of leaders in order to effect transformation.

This post is a response to Dr. Caputo's question (and title of this post) on a Gonzaga COML Blackboard discussion. 

la dolce vita

“The sweet, soulful, life”…

The title of our first discussion post on the Gonzaga ORGL Blackboard page: “Is there life after jet-lag?” evokes responses that are colorful and varied; Each of us experiencing the transition to some degree of  “life as usual” after two weeks of immersion in a dynamic group experience…strangers in a strange land –privileged partakers of the culture, its people, academic challenges, and interpersonal relationships.

My re-entry into the life before Europe was delightfully prolonged both in time and place. It was extended two weeks traveling in Europe and ten days in the states with family. My thirteenth flight ended at the Albuquerque airport on Monday July 4^th and, as of this writing, I am 24 hours home and just beginning to fall into a kind of comfortable rhythm. Beyond the physical sense of overload, is the chafing transition into the realm of duty and deadlines. The past 41 days have made few demands on me….no hard schedules and, besides toothbrushing and showering, no significant responsibilities…a relaxed pace taking life as it comes…”La Dolce Vita….”the sweet, soulful life.”

My initial approach to this first day back was speed. There is so much to do that the default strategy--  jump on it and ride hard until it’s done…seemed smart.  I began today with a six-mile walk in my neighborhood that included some challenging hills. As I walked, I mused on my next goal: unpack and do laundry. I could already visualize the empty suitcases and the neatly folded laundry. Before tackling this first project, I took a nap. Four hours later, the suitcases sat by the backdoor waiting for my husband to store them in the garage and the familiar sound of the dryer tossing my clothes resounded through the house. About this time, I was ready to generate another small goal when my husband called and invited me to lunch….defaulting to European slack mode, we took a leisurely lunch at the Wild Herb and I came home and took another short nap (like the Italians and my SC son) and then sat in front of my computer watching my Facebook newsfeed and playing with some receipts.

My next goal:  posting some checks and paying five bills went exceptionally slow with interruptions to talk on the phone and Skype my grandson….but making progress---though the goal is accomplished in record slow time. I then envisioned a home-cooked meal. We had pasta and fresh green beans at the dinner table…and we ate it slowly---like Leonardo.

It’s 9:10 now. I did the few dishes we used making and eating dinner and I am drinking a glass of wine….it’s making me sleepy and I think my evening will be over soon. This transition day has been strangely unhurried but peaceful ...with some duties fulfilled. I did not make a whole lot of progress and honestly hold hopes that maybe I made a permanent shift into a lower gear…”la dolce vita.”

a prolonged re-entry

Since saying goodbye to my hippie stint in the late 60’s I have given at least a fair impression of being a responsible adult…pastoring a church, raising five children, keeping a budget and all the other wonderful duties/joys of being a wife and mother.  I am in my sixth week away from home without family….an intentional break from most of what is familiar and comfortable and struggling a bit with feelings of guilt as my husband cares for my bulldog, pays the bills, and makes his own way alone for the first time in 30 years.

Dan and I took a taxi to the train station on Friday the 10th. He helped me navigate with my "motor home"bag to the right platform. I got to Pisa and took a train to the airport where I really started feeling the sting of my excessive luggage.  Ryanair’s 59 euro flight to Paris cost me a new bag and an 85 euro charge for a second bag. They are merciless enforcing weight and size regulations…

I have blogged some about my trip for two weeks in France, Switzerland and back into Italy. I do believe I would have done more writing if I had simply journaled in my Moleskin instead of having the constraint of concern about punctuation and good form.

As of this post, I am still not home. I am with my youngest daughter in a coffee shop in Fremont, Michigan where we have been processing her life changes as well as my own. I leave tomorrow to meet my husband in Charlotte and then onto SC for a few days to see a new grandson….home on the 4^th to my beloved Bunter.

I have been working some with Gelb’s book since Florence. I have shared it with a number of people who, like me, are impressed that it is our “textbook” for this class.

Concerning jet lag….Bonine is the “once a day travel tablet” that makes a flight relaxing and wards off any possibility of air sickness. I took two tablets as per the directions…but a 250 pound man also takes two tablets.  I left Europe on Friday the 24^th. Today is the 29^th and I am still nodding off in the middle of a conversation.  Am so thankful that my re-entry is prolonged and I have a driver.

The time in Italy will be journaled and processed for a long season. Besides having children, this month in Europe may be the most profound and paradigm-altering experience in my short life. I am grateful to each of you for being a part of it.

happy cows

Day 25 of this journey. I originally intended to stay in Italy for the final half of my four week trip to Europe. I think this was mostly because I felt more secure after two weeks in Florence…with both the language and the culture. I began to see Florence as “home” after several days. I knew how to get around without too much help and could find an inexpensive meal and glass of wine. I also had friends in Florence, a great room, and the Gonzaga campus around the corner. Breaking free from these comfortable moorings I expanded my European borders and ventured into France.

Yesterday I traveled by a small touring van over the Alps. We went through ancient villages, some remarkably austere in treeless  environments and others with busy sidewalk cafes full of climbers and their gear...drinking glasses of beer and huddled over maps of the mountain. These are mostly young Frenchmen with a clear passion for the climb. Back where I have been basing in Les Houches some of these climbers stay in a bunkhouse and work with their ropes on a large boulder in front of the hotel.

One of the outstanding experiences yesterday's excursion was a stop made as we descended from the top of the Alps into Italy. As I got out of the van, I heard what I thought were church bells that resounded out of a green mountainside…I could not determine the source until the driver pointed to a large herd of very large black cows. Each had their own bell and every movement made while grazing was a note in this incredible sound feast. We walked up to a small building selling snacks patronized by what seemed like local customers. One gentleman carrying  a wooden board with several cheeses, sausage slices,  and crusty bread stopped to show us his purchase and explained that these were all products of these delightfully melodic cows.  I ordered a glass of red wine (2.5euros) and walked to a nearby building where a young girl dressed in high rubber boots was tending  to the  cleaning of what is apparently the home of these productive cows.

I hesitate to assign an emotion of happiness to a cow, but if ever a cow had a reason to be happy, these cows do. There is a sense of humane care that contrasts sharply with the stockyards in Herford, Texas or the stories I have heard about Cargill or the horrors of the  meat packing plants in California. The sausage seemed fit for a vegetarian.

a trip to the top

The highest mountain peak in Europe is Mont Blanc at Chamonix, France. To enhance my many shifting paradigms, I decided that a trip to the top was in order. My mother hated high places. My first recollection of her fear was on a vacation to the Grand Canyon. My dad was teasing her by driving dangerously close to edges of the road unprotected by guardrails. All my life I have carried a fear of heights…an irrational and debilitating fear.

The decision to go was relieved by the comforting possibility of a storm that would shut down the gondolas. The storm did not come and I hesitantly began my trip to the top about noon. No one else in the car seemed moved as I was inside. They were laughing and talking as if they were at their own dining room table on solid ground. To me this was a huge step that no one else was sharing….except my family back home who were befuddled at this out-of-character activity. My husband watched me hit the ground in tears at the Grand Canyon as he took my son to peer over the edge of a deadly dropoff.

My anxiety slipped away after the first few yards up the mountain. I was comforted by the calm faces of the people….most especially an oriental man who stood in front of me in the corner of the car. The scenery is difficult to communicate with most of my available adjectives.

I stayed at the top for about 45 minutes and then descended to the midway point where I enjoyed a   glass of wine and hiked among the rocks and wildflowers. I am not sure that my fear is gone…at least it has been challenged and I feel a greater courage in me that I think will serve me in other aspects of my life.

after florence: France/ Chamonix and Mont Blanc

I was talking with one of my professors last week about blogging. We were required to journal our trip and responses to lectures/ field trips. I remarked that I was logging most of this content on my blog. He told me that he did not blog because it was a slow means of recording...trying to write an engaging and clear piece and keep the grammar etc straight at the same time. Writing for the world..however small or large the audience..is much different than recording ponderings in my black Moleskin...but I am on an exciting journey and am willing to risk appearing sloppy for the sake of sharing.

I left Paris yesterday and arrived in Chamonix early this morning.The French countryside is more lovely down here than it was as I viewed it a few days ago from the air when I flew in from Pisa.  Chamonix is east of Geneva and a charming community with the dominating presence of Mont Blanc as a backdrop. Mont Blanc is the highest mountain in Europe and draws trekkers and tourists.

This evening I did laundry and took a walk down the winding streets of Chamonix. I picked a sidewalk cafe among many choices...this one had frites...I normally do not eat french fries, but in France, French fries seem to be the order of the day...a cheap dinner (1.90 euros).  I engaged the man behind the counter asking if he had been up to Mont Blanc. He laughingly told me "no"...just the easy way...in an airplane. He, in turn, asked me if I was going up. I told him that I was thinking about embracing the challenge tomorrow....I told him "scary" and he asked how long it would take.  I said 20 minutes and he looked at me puzzled. The language differences make these dialogues foggy. I took my frites and continued my slow walk back to the hotel.

As I walked eating my frites (much like McDonalds only thicker), I pondered our conversation and laughed out loud when it hit me that he thought I was trekking up the mountain, not riding a gondola.

Unfortunately, "Do you speak English" is my constant refrain in Europe. It feels selfish to expect others to figure out what I am needing. Not knowing the language aborts many engagements that might otherwise be enriching and creates a degree of isolation.

Today as I was showering, I used the upsidedown bottle of "Fusion"...a practical and wonderful combination of body and facial wash as well as shampoo. I think I may begin to photograph these kinds of notable differences in the two parts of the world....I am staying another night in Chamonix and then on to the eastern coast of France...

upending virtue

"Everyone sees who you appear to be, few sense who you really are." Machiavelli The Prince

I invested almost 30 years in the Church promoting virtue…mostly in the form of the Biblical fruit of the spirit…love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness , faithfulness, kindness , selfcontrol…components of moral goodness that most of us would embrace as virtue.

Cicero articulates virtu as consisting "especially of always acting honorably and morally."It is clear that Machiavelli’s "virtu" is nothing equivalent to these conventional ideas of virtue…though it may insidiously and falsely present the appearance of goodness.  Machiavellian virtue is not practiced for the simple sake of virtue but is the presence of personal qualities that a prince would find necessary to acquire in order to maintain his state and achieve great things. 

Where I would tag a virtuous person as one comfortable with moral goodness and one I would count on to embrace that morality consistently, Machiavelli has a kind of chameleon-like virtu that changes with circumstance to promote results that favor the unity of the state. "The prince, above all must acquire a 'flexible disposition'....capable of varying his conduct from good to evil and back again as 'fortune and circumstance dictate.'"

Machiavelli's strategy for this flexiblity is found in the two categories of virtue: primary and secondary. The secondary virtues are used to form the impression of the primary. Primary virtues are intangible and are exemplified in virtues such as compassion, faith, sincerity, and prudence. These are paired with secondary or tangible virtues to create an appropriate persona. I will give an example to make this tactic clear.

If I want to make others think I am religious--an intangible virtue--I will reinforce with a public declaration of my generosity. Maybe I will give a large sum to a missionary outreach or to the poor...letting my left hand (and all who will hear) know what my right hand is doing (Matthew 6:3).

It is important to Machiavelli that a leader be willing to do evil by force or cunning when the circumstances seem to warrant while at the same time maintaining the guise of morality. It all sounds quite diabolical until we begin to see how these ideas play out practically in our politics. The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki would be an example.

leaving italy for france

At the Uffizzi Musei in Florence today...standing in front of Botticelli's "Birth of Venus"..I was overwhelmed at this amazing place. It's huge and full...full of more art than I ever saw in the coffee table books that were my introduction to so many great pieces when I was small. I may one day regret leaving before seeing it all, but it seemed I was rushing and it was difficult to see some of the major pieces because of the crowds.

Tomorow is our last class and our last tour. We will conclude with a dinner tomorrow evening here in Florence. I have been keeping a hand written journal that I will work on transcribing onto this blog over the next few weeks.

Friday morning I leave for Paris and plan to connect back here as I have internet.

art in its context

A few days ago I sat on a bench below and at the backside of Michelangelo's David in the Accademia in Florence. It was a reverential and even contemplative experience...I elected it to be such. Not everyone enters that spiritual sphere when looking at notable works of art. I think we must be intentional or find ourselves moving with the crowds in a shallow viewing and a token acknowledgment of amazement as we head to the bookstore to buy a postcard.


In class we had discussion about the ways of seeing art in its context vs. outside its context. It seemed that the general consensus is that it is indeed a good thing.. more accurate and confirming..to view art in the place in was created to be..."The Creation" on the ceiling of the Sistine is in the context of a huge ceiling with similar forms and involves the physical act of looking upward to see it (empathy for all of his looking up in painting it). It is set in the atmosphere of reverence of the church. The idea is that putting that painting on a T-shirt alters the experience intended by the artist. It most certainly does. But beyond this truth is the fact that it is and will continually be replicated.


As I walk down the streets of Florence I see lots of Davids. There are keychain Davids, postcard Davids, plastic Davids in different sizes, color book Davids, books about David, magnet Davids, coffee cup Davids, and T-shirt Davids. As  a kid, I probably first saw David in a coffee table art book in my home. I have to wonder if my appreciation of David in the "flesh" is enhanced by my history with David on paper.


Not everyone elects to see or is able to come to Florence. Seeing David in Florence is an exclusive privelege. The rest of the world sees him in a foreign context...beauty spread abroad. Growing up my mom exposed us to good art by renting paintings from the library and changing them out regularly.  I have often wondered how much her efforts worked toward planting in me a hunger for beauty....even eventually a desire to come to Florence to see some of those very works in their context.

trompe l'oeil

A contemporary sculpture in front of the palace...

The Pitti Palace and Boboli Gardens was the get-away "home" of the Medici family. It is across the River Arno from Florence downtown. A group of us took an extended stroll/climb in the vast Boboli Gardens that spread up the hills and on the west side behind the Pitti palace ---investigating arched pathways, discovering unfamiliar plantlife, and gazing at the view of Florence from several locations.

There are numerous exhibits in the Pitti Palace. Our tickets gave us access to several. One was Russian jewelry and artifacts....I am not a jewelry and knick-knack fan, but it was incredible nonetheless. Another was a history of costume/dress. We initially thought this exhibit was going to be dress from the time of the Medici..and it was in part, but it spanned centuries.

We could not take pictures in parts of the palace. I'm not sure why we are prohibited in some places, no flash in others, and anything goes in others. For instance, in Rome at St. Peter's there are no limits on photography, but no pictures are to be taken in the Sistine Chapel (some cameras did go off but the crowd was way too large to discover the transgressor). Allowable noise or talking is another enigma. In St.Peter's nothing was said about talking or laughing...no "silencio!"... but in the Sistine the guards were contiually reminding visitors to be quiet. In the Pitti Palace our group discussion about a strange looking 19th century dress led to some elevated noise and a stiff rebuff from the guards reminding us where we were. (St Peter's? no..a dress show).

The part of the palace that most resonates with me is a painted room. The 17th century painters, Colonna and Miteili, worked in partnership for 20 years. Between 1637 and 1639 they created a room in the palace for the wedding of Ferdinand II. It represents a palace within the palace. The work of "quadrajura" is the creation of illusionistic space. In this room it is difficult to discern whether the ceiling and walls are painted or sculpted. It was here where I received my second scolding..."do not toucchhh de wulls". I was not touching the walls...I was looking closely to decide what was real and what was painted...a trompe l'oeil masterpiece!

attending to art

My central interest in the Galleria dell'Accademia was the David sculpture by Michelangelo. I don't want to  diminish the Bertolini  and Inglesi works, the Pozzi,  or the Prigione --also done by Michelangelo...but David's size, his placement in the Accademia, and my entrance into the hallway leading to his form through a heavy lavender drape could only have been better had I been listening--at the same time-- to Mussorgsky's exalted Bydlo from Pictures at an Exhibition on my ipod (with the volume turned up to drown out the valley girl dialogue going on nearby).

I sat on a bench below David's left side and began to do some gesture drawing...and then I stopped and simply attended to him...noting the form, the texture, the shadows, the lines, the details of his feet, his hair, his veins---really seeking to look deeply and carefully....and quietly.

Italy is not much different from the U.S. in our human resistance to attentiveness and reflection. The crowd gathered at David's feet was not quiet...at least not noticeably or generally. David, Bertolini, and the whole group of artists in the Accademia warrant our internal silence...a shutting of the mouth for a few moments...to embrace the form and its creator..and to hear our own internal response to the deed of remarkable creation.

a humble family

I am hoping that Blogger allows me to post some photos here soon. The upload feature has not worked the last couple of days.


Years ago when I moved to my current home ...a resort community in southern NM, my real estate agent suggested that one of the ways to keep taxes low on property was to make the outside look humble for the assessor and spend my money on the inside. According to the BBC film: The Medici: Godfathers of the Renaissance this kind of approach to prosperity was advocated by the Medici fathers in 15th century Florence. Keep the outside simple...travel on a donkey etc....or so the story goes.


The opulence of Medici properties in Florence puts this paradigm in question. The Capella di Medicee and the Palazzo Medici --wealth incarnate....is beyond the imagining of my middle class (New Mexico) mind and experience. This is affirmed even more in Pitti Palace and Boboli Gardens--the "vacation" home across the Arno River from Florence.


In a brief discussion with some fellow students we likened the life of the Medici with the straining need for privacy and exclusion of modern day high profile individuals such as move stars and political figures. Their position necessitates finding places apart from the crowds.


Our time immersed in the lives of the Medici was followed by dinner, vino, and a touch of lemoncello.

a priestly view of florence

We met in the hotel lobby shortly after arriving in Florence. Dr. Caputo recruited Father Bruno to give us a brief walking tour of the city. Bruno is an instructor at Gonzaga-Florence and has lived in the city for 30 years. He served as our lively guide to some of the secrets of Florence.


Numerous times Bruno remarked... "Florence was built on towers." He would point out the many towers that are today imbedded within other structures, though many still stand alone. "Watch for the layers" pointing to the evidence of the oldest structure overlaid by other facades and additions. A circle of concrete below the Duomo indicates the landing place of the golden sphere that plummeted from the very top of the church.


Had I taken the care to jot notes in my Moleskin while Bruno shared, I would have more to post about this delightful and engaging personalized tour. I will add later as I remember details.


Bruno and Dr. C invited us to dinner at La Spada (sp). He told us to ask for the Bruno special.


We arrived at La Spada at 6:30. We were seated and told that the serving did not begin for thirty minutes...so we sat and talked..at this point there were eight of us. Enoch, Dr. C, and Dr. Carey joined us later. This was another of several evenings in this past week containing common elements: great pasta, amazing desserts, good wine, and excellent conversations. About 2/3 through the meal and already several bottles of vino, Fr. Bruno arrived with a magnum of red vino as a gift to the Gonzaga group. The conversations and laughter increased in volume..."Fine wine is art you can drink. It is liquid quintessence of the earth's bounty: proof, as Benjamin Franklin observed, 'God loves us and loves to see us happy.'"

on to florence

I have a warm place inside for Rome. When the wheels of our plane hit Italian tarmac, a girl across the aisle let all the passengers know how happy she was to be here by shouting a loud affirmation ...I quietly shared her enthusiasm. This is the first real visit to European soil for me and Rome is the first place I engaged. I think it will always be special for that reason.

After three days of intensive guided sightseeing, cappuccinos at sidewalk cafes, and pastas between generous glasses of vino, we left to do the same in Florence…Firenze.

Our luxury bus took us on a three hour journey through the hills between Rome and Florence with intermittent views of ancient walled cities and neatly groomed fields. At one point I remarked to Dr. Caputo that the lay of the land looks a bit like Kansas if it weren’t for the Apennines east of us.

About halfway to our destination we stopped for lunch and a bathroom break. Italian fast food is supreme. I had a tiny cappuccino, some kind of flatbread with cheese and spinach, and some amazing French fries…for about five euro.

The language issues are not huge for Americans in Italy. Mostly the Italians are acclimated to American tourists, but it feels a bit selfish to expect them to figure us. I really want to learn the language ….and the coins…We place little value on our coins but Italian coins are valued at whole euros. What feels like a couple of dollars in my pocket may be 10 or 12.


We arrived at our hotel in Florence early in the afternoon...The Atheneum on Via Cavour and prepared for a brief overview of the city with our instructors and an impromptu tour guide...

the opulence of the basilica

Our final morning in Rome I decided to take a quick look at St. Peter's Basilica down the block from the hotel. Dr. Caputo jokingly spoke of the luminous affect on us of his visit to St Peter's Basilica...that if we did not have time to go we could just be next to him and enjoy the glory of it all. Probably not, but his enthusiasm was convincing.

I had not planned for the Basilica. It has not been a part of my religious life these past 30 years, but it has occupied a large place in the hearts of countless millions through history and that morning I decided to make the effort to walk the few hundred feet to this popular tourist attraction.

When Jen and I got to the entrance there were no lines. It was early and the Vatican yard only had a couple of hundred wandering about. We went through a security set up similar to a small airport and walked up the stairs into the portico and the large entrance.

My experience with religious opulence is the Crystal Cathedral in California. St. Peter's has raised the bar on high-end ecclesiastical architecture and artifact and for this I am glad. I really want to establish a more generous vocabulary so that I never again use the words "pretty", "awesome", "incredible", or "amazing." Until then I am left with those few paltry adjectives to wrap around a verbal picture of my experience in that place.

The excellence of the Basilica's artistic content is sobering. The overload of massive sculptures and paintings as well as the forms of ceilings and designs on the floors called to me for an alternate way of viewing. I found myself seeking an attention to tiny details rather than the whole...looking at texture and careful attention to small sections of sculptures and paintings rather than trying to gather it all in a whirlwind tour.

when in rome...

After a lengthy visit to the Colliseum, the Parthenon, and a stroll through the Forum...three of us took off with Dr. Carey toward our temporary home...Hotel Emmaus. I think we lost our way someplace in the ruins of the Forum, but none if us were too concerned...and continued walking and navigating and finally deciding that a beer or glass of wine would help us on our way. We stopped at a cafe and grabbed a table outside. (Dr Caputo warned us about sitting at tables --especially inside tables where the prices are much higher...someone else remarked today that paper tablecloths mean cheaper food.) We sat for an hour or more eating peanuts and drinking our beverages. The conversation wandered from job issues to lectio divina to online class issues. It was a memorable and helpful time of special interpersonal engagement.

I enjoy a glass of wine in the evening....usually after 8.  We do things a little differently in Italy. Wine seems to happen at least twice a day. Once in the afternoon and maybe again when we are venturing in the evening. Last night about nine of us went to the Spanish Steps. On the way we walk through the narrow streets dodging the taxis. Two of us in the group had gone to the site the day before, but it seemed a good thing to go with Dr. Caputo and learn from his walking commentary as we travel. We took the underground Metro for one euro. When we began our walk from the station,  we encountered a commotion in a high end dress shop. We heard screams and joined a couple of dozen people watching inside the store as the clerks were chasing a large rat into the street. A number of onlookers proceeded to chase the rodent down the street..kicking and poking it with sticks.  I did not watch to see his end.

After dinner we shared the cab fare home. Looking forward to a bus ride to Florence tomorrow...

the vatican and other travels the first day in rome

I am in a group from Gonzaga University COML/ORGL programs...consisting of 21students, two instructors and some friends and family of students. I will attempt to be professional and academic in my response to what I am experiencing here, but it is honestly over the top and I am not just a little overwhelmed.

While in Rome, we meet daily for some kind of guided excursion. I do not usually gravitate toward either the major sites or the official guides...all those assumptions and ways are nullified now. Yesterday we went to the Vatican and today we toured the Coliseum, Forum, and Pantheon. Huge crowds and lines...but well worth the wait and the congestion.

In our syllabus for this summer class we were advised that we would be walking 5-7 miles per day. I thought this was an exaggeration. It has proven otherwise.

Our Vatican tour guide supplied us with remote sets and earphones that allowed us to hear her as we worked through the crowds of other similar tours.Three fourths of our tour was in the Vatican museum, but the climax was the Sistine Chapel. I am not proficient at crowd estimations...there were maybe 1000 or more in the chapel..instructed to maintain silence (in vain) and not to take pictures (many did so anyway). The various panels on the large vaulted ceiling were so familiar from many books and videos over the years. Michaelangelo's wrenching and rewarding task transcends words.

I am left with a sense of awe at the depth and richness of the artifacts we saw firsthand. As we were leaving, I turned to a classmate and remarked that I invest hours in a small watercolor painting. If someone were to look at that work as most of us looked so quickly at these great works today, I would question why I took the great effort. These works require  pondering and attentiveness to receive from them what the artist was doing in its creation.

night arrival in rome

As we prepared to leave Dublin, our plane was grounded for an hour or so because of the volcanic ash cloud drifting over from Iceland. We arrived late in Rome. I was slightly anxious about how this next leg of my trip would pan out...The "helpless-looking woman" look works well. I found unexpected and gracious aid in a friendly (albeit too friendly) tall bearded hippie type man. He spoke some English and he led me to the baggage claim. My two bags were among the very last to appear. This problem solved, I began wondering how I was going to get to my hotel and the meeting/dinner already in session.

I approached several safe and official-looking Italians who guided and warned me: Taking anything but a "white taxi" is not good...and ignore the other solicitations from unlicensed drivers. Preventing my imagination from what could happen if I took the wrong taxi, I found an American businessman and he took me to the place I needed to be to catch my ride...The small white Fiats lined up and ushered passengers and their baggage into their clean vehicles.

My driver was young and almost toothless...friendly...called himself "Vennie." We communicated successfully the location of the hotel and then took off with the loud local radio station blaring..and Vennie laughing out loud at some of the comments from the DJ.....125 mph is not an exaggeration. Honking and weaving in and out of traffic ...we went on freeway kinds of roads and single narrow lanes arriving at the hotel just as the meeting with my class was concluding.

I gave him 50 euro and he gave me a large smile. I wish I had thought to take his picture.

the route to rome

from my window...the dome of St.
Peter's peeking above the roof ....

I am in my room in Rome. It is a older hotel with a cage-like elevator, marble stairs, ten foot ceilings, and a less than friendly desk clerk. Duties press: my bed is unmade and suitcases are askew, but priority calls me to record some of my experiences and responses to them...I am listening to the bells at the St Peter's as I sit at my desk by the window...and able to see the dome of the church peeking above the building across the street..it's all pretty amazing.

I think I am finally rested from my 30 hour journey to Rome via New York and Dublin. I had two lengthly layovers and enjoyed my time reading, walking, and observing other travelers. The flight on Aer Lingus to Dublin was especially delightful. The plane was huge with two aisles and congenial flight hostesses with heavy Irish accents. The day I rode was the celebration of Aer Lingus' 75th anniversary. They are great supporters of UNICEF and show on plane videos of the work of the organization. Everything about that flight was superb and complete with a freckle-faced Patrick.

Patrick was going home to Dublin after his first year at the College of Manhattan studying government and political science. He told me how he enjoys the US but looks forward to the slower pace of Ireland for the summer. During our entire flight Patrick watched movies while I slept off and on.

In Dublin I began to see how very different the people seem to approach technology and time. The only internet access was in kiosks and cost 6 euros per hour...a slow connection as well so that translates to probably twice the fee and then the rate of conversion...maybe 15 euros per hour...!!

My phones  and internet useless, I resigned myself happily to disconnection and enjoyed my short visit to Ireland.

connection ambivalence in dublin

Writing quickly...I am in the Dublin airport paying by the minute for internet connnection. Additionally, the keyboard is set up differently...enough to make typing awkward. 

According to my best estimation, I have been traveling for about 27 hours...with five more hours to Rome. My flight to and layover in Dublin has been incredible. Dubliners live at a slower pace ( having trouble finding a clock...my phone is normally my clock) and are not particularly concerned about technological connectivity...at least not mine. Surprisingly, though, I am enjoying the respite from my phone and internet.

a time in Italy...

I am leaving this Thursday for a month in Europe. The first two weeks I am studying with a group in the COML program from Gonzaga University--taking two classes taught by John Caputo and Michael Carey: Renaissance Rhetoric and Contemporary Leadership. Our first few days will be in Rome--In addition to our studies we will be visiting the Vatican museums, St. Peter's Basilica, the Coliseum, the Forurm, and the Pantheon. The remaining time we will be in Florence immersed in the visual and historical (rhetorical) spaces and artifacts---with a weekend trip yet to be decided. The last two weeks I am traveling via rail to places --as of now--unknown. I will be posting with updates and photos in the days to come..Ciao!

The Technology of Grading: False Messages of Competency?

In recent years, education professionals have raised questions about the efficacy of the standard numerical grading system. Historically, instruction took place in the context of a mentor-student relationship. When ancient fishermen trained their young sons in a seafaring livelihood, the instruction was individual and the expected result was proficiency (History, 2010). In the earliest methods of education, the teacher was the attentive mentor and the subject was meticulously imparted until skill was achieved (Apprenticeship, 2011). Students prior to the beginning of quantitative grading in the late 18^th century learned in an environment of mastery. Subject competency since that time declares itself not primarily in mastery but in a system of numbers.  

Some of the most valuable lessons I have nailed down never had a grade assigned them: I learned to talk by listening and observing the many talkers around me; I mastered walking by noticing everyone around me was upright and moving more effectively than me on my hands and knees; I learned to bake bread with a friend as my mentor; My proficiency in sewing is a credit to my mother; my dad taught me math facts; my love of reading is a byproduct of a home filled with books and readers. Other lessons came with painful effort, were graded, and seldom resembled mastery. Business law and macroeconomics fell into that category and are still foreboding topics. Neil Postman uses the practice of numerical grading as an illustration of how technology assigns new ideas to what is real (Postman, 1993). A grade of 90% or above is mastery--period. This tidy system comprises a “media environment” (Griffin, 2009) in which we are so acclimated that we have difficulty objectifying its effects.

The method of numerical grading began in the late 1700s at Cambridge University. William Farish, a chemistry professor, is credited with fashioning the first university examination and the first numerical method of determining how much learning takes place in the classroom. “His idea that a quantitative value should be assigned to human thought was a major step toward constructing a mathematical concept of reality” (Postman, 1993, p. 13).

Farish participated in an educational paradigm that required meticulous one-on-one work with students to assure subject mastery. He likely devised his system out of a need for speed, simplification, and convenience not foreseeing the damaging implications. As the numerical system spread, the responsibility for learning quickly fell on the student as the time-honored work of mentoring and mastery yielded to the technology of grading. What followed was a new category of student failures “providing an entire new realm of employment for adults who would diagnose, treat, and remediate these newly-discovered ‘learning disabled’ children” (Hartmann, 2005). Though education finds itself deeply rooted in this system, many educators question its effectiveness and claim that grading has harmful effects on the learning process.

Salman Khan believes mastery is possible without a grading system.  Khan is a former hedge fund analyst who started the Khan Academy as a way to help students learn by utilizing self-pacing and his unique YouTube videos. Mastery, not grading, moves the student forward. Khan takes no salary and provides the videos free of charge on his website, The Khan Academy. Student viewing has been tracked and the results demonstrate remarkable movement forward as each learner, at his own pace, finally achieves mastery. Khan expresses concern about the holes in education occurring when students are forced to move forward in a subject before mastery even though they have a passing grade (TED, 2011). Statistics from the Alliance for Education reinforce this stating:

Ninth grade serves as a bottleneck for many students who begin their freshman year only to find that their academic skills are insufficient for high school-level work. Up to 40 percent of ninth grade students in cities with the highest dropout rates repeat ninth grade; only 10 to 15 percent of those repeaters go on to graduate. (High School, 2009)

To these students, a  grade (above 60%) communicates that they are ready to move on when, in fact, they likely do not have sufficient mastery to successfully handle more complicated material. Staying with the subject(s) until it is mastered would enable them to advance confidently and, at their own pace, lay the foundation for further learning. The grade, in this case, is a false message of competency.

As I was finishing this post, my husband phoned. I was telling him about Mr. Farish, mentoring, mastery, and false messages, summarizing my discoveries. Al is an elementary school teacher daily immersed in the American educational system. He dedicates hours weekly to Farish’s quantitative grading scheme. He remarked that his school wants to move to a portfolio system that circumvents traditional grades, but the brick wall for this new direction is accreditation standards. The universities require standardized numbers attached to each child. In this instance, Farish’s creation goes unchallenged.
A brief statement from communication theorist and author, Marshall McLuhan is a fitting response to this quagmire: “We shape our tools,” he says, “and then our tools shape us" (McLuhan, 1964, p. 65). The ramifications of new technology are unpredictable. The emergence of the negative consequences of a technology is a potential doorwary to innovative pathways and the redemption of the tool.

References

Apprenticeship,( 2011). Apprenticeships. Retrieved April 23, 2011, from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apprenticeship

Griffin, E. (2009). Communication: a first look at communication theory. New York: McGraw-Hill Higher Education.

Hartmann, T. (2005). The world's most famous lazy teacher. Retrieved April 20, 2011, from Adolescent Literacy: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/alt-edindia/message/5352?o=1&d=-1

McLluhan, M. (1964). Understanding media. Cambridge,MA: The MIT Press.

High School Dropouts in America, 2009. Retrieved April 24, 2011, from Alliance for Excellent Education: http://www.all4ed.org/files/GraduationRates_FactSheet.pdf

Postman, N. (1993). Technopoly. New York: Vintage Books.

History of Apprenticeship, 2011). History of apprenticeship. Retrieved April 23, 2011, from Washington State Department of Labor and Industries: http://www.lni.wa.gov/TradesLicensing/Apprenticeship/About/History/

TED Talks, (2011). Salman Khan’s TED talk on how and why he has built his Khan Academy [Video]. Retrieved on April 20, 2011 from You Tube: http://www.ideahunter.org/2011/03/28/salman-khans-ted-talk-on-how-and-why-he-built-his-khan-academy/



Engaging Orality in a World of Writing

 


Mom and  Her Remington....1965

 We make our abode in a culture of words. We are possessed by words and formed by words from infancy. I have a clear memory of myself as a three-year-old sitting on my bed holding an oversized Golden Dictionary intently matching the words with the colorful drawings. Books and writing were honored in our home; my mother and her Remington typewriter were living synonyms; the Oxford dictionary sat open in the living room like a family Bible. As an adult, I have logged in countless hours of read-aloud with my five children; my husband’s fourth-grade classroom is filled with words on whiteboards, posters, flashcards, signs, handouts, and volumes of books. There is little escape from the reminder that we are immersed in and dependent upon the written word. We are a literate society and proud to be so; the more literate the better. “Writing is a technology” (Ong, 2002, p. 202) that we have embraced in the same way as the technology of simple tools, automobiles, and ipods. Does our love affair with words disallow“the singing and the telling and the muse” (Postman, 1992, p. 22) that constituted our literary beginnings? Is there a valid, even practical,way to embrace unfamiliar oral literary forms in the contemporary world of writing?

The most imaginative word-imbued person would have a struggle envisioning a world of no writing, no books, no billboards, no instructions, or no alphabet.  He might inaccurately assume it is a dark world of ignorance void of intellectual vibrancy.  The difficulty lays not so much in imagining the absences of the visual elements of text that we embrace as much as the sheer supremacy of the internal perceptual framework that has been intimately “interiorized” (Ong, 2002, p. 94) over a lifetime of textual influence.  This overarching framework has the potential to obscure appreciation of the positive offerings of oral societies.  This is all helpful to note since “Most languages have never been committed to writing at all” (Ong, 2002, p. 106) and there is abundant oral richness in both the historical and these contemporary contexts that awaits investigation. Supportive resources such as The Center for Studies in Oral Tradition  “seeks to create and maintain an open, democratic network for understanding the world’s oral traditions” (Foley, 2011) promoting a solid appreciation of literary beginnings which is much in order. When the light shines and we recall there were no pencils in the Genesis account, we have begun to open the doors of appreciating a long and unfamiliar human experience.

The fundamental characteristics of primary orality are a focus of Walter Ong’s distinguished study of orality and literacy. The historical and contemporary offerings provided in the absence of text are something to be preserved and studied.  M. L. Usher endorses the oral traditions in his study of Carneades, an ancient Greek orator. He states, “Indeed, Carneades’ mastery of forms of oral expression became the stuff of legend: his booming voice brought him humorously into conflict with the local gymnasiarch. Professional orators, it is said, would cancel their own classes in order to attend his lectures” (Usher, 2006, p. 191).  As preface to her discussion of contemporary slam poetry, Felice Belle states, “It is my inherent belief that poetry is written to be read aloud, not quarantined to the pages of books left on library shelves (Belle, 2003, p. 14).  Steve Zeitlin discusses the goals of the People’s Poetry Gathering.  One of which is, “To preserve and rekindle a heritage of oral poetry that is endangered by numerous forces at work in contemporary life” (Zeitlin, 2003, p. 7).

Walter Ong’s work in orality and literacy highlights the mnemonic foundation of primary oral cultures.  Without text, all rests on memory. Coupled with this is the dependency upon communication with others. “Sustained thought in an oral culture is tied to communication.” (Ong, 2002, p. 35).  In a primary oral culture there is an essential need for the other. Calculating a plan, presenting a narrative, or arriving at a complex solution in an oral world is relieved by the contribution of a discusser. “An interlocutor is virtually essential: it is hard to talk to yourself for hours on end” (Ong, 2002, p. 33). Much of oral tradition also includes the presence of an audience on location. "Orality stresses group learning, cooperation, and a sense of social responsibility" (Postman, 1992, p.17). Social inter-dependency implicit in oral traditions has positive implications for a modern society plagued by loneliness and individualism. “Critiques of modern societies often cite the loss of community as a result of weak connections with local places and changing modes of social interactions” (Driskell & Lyon,2002, p. 472). Individualism is fueled by technology that seduces the affections and subtracts from time available for social engagement (Postman, 1992).
The traditions of oral cultures invite us to remember the rich heritage of our literary beginnings and be enlarged by existing oral cultures. Fostering personal engagement in these arts brings people together. Ong asserts that oral tradition is “empathetic and participatory rather than objectively distanced” (Ong, 2002, p. 45). Active participation in poetry reading, theatrical productions, historical reenactments, speeches, debates, tribal rituals and storytelling all serve to benefit a  21^st century society profoundly in need of connection.

Slam Poet Saul Williams

 

Kanye West

References

Belle, F. (2003). The Poem Performed. Oral Tradition Journal, 14(2),14-15, Retrieved from: http://journal.oraltradition.org/files/articles/18i/6b_belle.pdf

Driskell, R., Lyon, L. (2002). Are Virtual Communities True Communities? Examining the Environments and Elements of Community. City and Community, 1(4), 373-390.

Foley, J. (2011). About the Center for Studies in Oral Tradition. Retrieved April 20, 2011, from Center for Studies in Oral Tradition: http://oraltradition.org/about/

Ong, W. (2002). Orality and literacy: the technologizing of the word. New York: Routledge.

Postman, N. (1992). Technopoly: the surrender of culture to technology. New York: Vintage Books.

Russell, D. (1980). The Revised UCLA Loneliness Scale: Concurrent and Discriminant Validity Evidence. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 472-480.

Usher, M. (2006). Carneades’ Quip: Orality, Philosophy, Wit, and the Poetics of Impromptu Quotation. Retrieved April 14, 2011, from Oral Tradition Journal: http://journal.oraltradition.org/issues/21i

Zeitlin, S. (2003). The People's Poetry. Retrieved April 18, 2011, from Oral Tradition Journal: http://journal.oraltradition.org/files/articles/18i/6a_zeitlin.pdf