This post is a first of what I hope will be a series of posts about some things that I am thinking about. One of those posts will end up on my math blog. The associated video can be found here.
Please don’t waste your time on the video unless you know (and like) statistics and actuarial science. But the overall lesson is this: when I first presented the material in class, I did NOT set up the theoretical background and that was a mistake. Knowing just a bit of the theory makes remembering the formulas a whole lot easier. As a math professor, it was inexcusable that I forgot that.
Distance running and walking: what is inspiring and what is too much?
These thoughts are based on the following: recently, in Arizona, there was a 6 day race held called “Across the Years.” The event itself sounds like fun; there were many interesting options. (24 hour, 48 hour, 72 hour, 144 hour, 100 mile, a “separate marathon a day” event, and a few others.
It turns out that former world class ultramarathoner showed up with the idea of getting in 50k total. She ended up wtih 11x miles over the 6 day period. This might not sound impressive given that she had previously won the prestigious Comrades Ultra and Western States 100, set world records, etc.
But, while she is 60, she has severe rheumatoid arthritis and so has to walk using a rollator (a walker with wheels that many elderly use). Of course, there was quite a bit of gushing about that being “inspiring.”
And part of me “gets that”: do what you can.
But, well, for me, it made me question my own goals *in the opposite direction.* I had thought about training to walk a marathon. But I am keeping tabs on my knees and some slight ache is there, even at my current level of training. And what is MY goal? I did some soul searching. And to be honest: I want to be able to comfortably finish 5K-4 miles when I am in my 80s. And how does my doing a marathon NOW align with that longer term goal? For me: finishing somehow is not what I want. I want a finish ‘with dignity” that does not trash my body.
The same applies to weights: part of me wants to see how much I can deadlift, but when I got 315 with a trap bar (low handle) (3 plates) back in December 2021, it hurt my back. I recovered. But I am not interested in setbacks. It might be time to put my curiosity to rest.
Family matters: adopting and raising a “special needs” child.
This might be a curious topic for me to post about, given that I’ve never done i and would not know how to. Of course, “special needs” can mean many things: the case I have in mind is a fetal alcohol syndrome” : the kind where the intellectual development was uneven. Some things (e. g. memory) he does very well on. When he is trained, he does not forget. But as to figuring out something on his own and making an inference: he cannot do it.
So, what is the problem? Unfortunately, neither adopted parent was healthy, and both died at non-elderly ages. Now we get to the real issue: the relatives of the respective parents completely forgot about him. That is, all but one relative: my wife (sister of the father). She is IT. And the poor guy has enough cognitive ability to be hurt by this. He has not seen his mom’s family since 1997 and that is very painful for him. And when my wife dies, no one in his dad’s side of the family will remember him.
And yes, I get it: he cannot function on his own. Someone who wanted him to visit would have to make the arrangements, get him on a bus or plane, and drive him around and be extremely patient with him when he is in the house. I can understand no one wanting to do any of that, especially for someone dull and forgettable.
And here is a blunt truth, as I see it: the *parents*, and NOT the larger family, decided to undertake the challenge of raising an adopted special needs child. The larger family did NOT agree to this extra challenge and duty.
So, that is something to consider if you want to take this on: is your larger family aboard, or at least a portion of the larger family? It might not seem fair, but I think it is best to go into difficult situtions with one’s eyes open.
So, what will *I* do if/when my wife dies or is incapacitated and I am still capable? I might ask if he wants a visit and I can take him and his roommate to things like NFL games. I’ve done this before, WITHOUT my wife.
Taking a break from the social justice duties
I’ll limit my discussion to mere verbiage. But an old photo made me think of this: about 20 years ago, my wife was still working. She held a university administrator job that involved dealing with student misconduct and the student judicial system. She dealt with roommate disputes, sexual harassment, sexual assault, etc. She also designed and ran problems, put up “woke” posters, etc. So she knew the laws, the rules and the actual situations better than the vast majority of people. She was well respected at her job.
And so, she was getting ready to go to work. She was wearing a jacket top and slightly snug pants. She asked me “are these too tight for me to wear to the office” and so I took a photo so she could see for herself. Disclaimer: her figure was sort of curvy: pants that fit in the waist tended to be snug in the butt.
Anyway, when she first asked “are these pants too tight” question, I looked, gave her a pat and then other acts of intimate affection. She deadpanned: “if random men do that in the hallway, I’ll know that these are too tight.”
That is when I took the photo so she could see.
But as far as her joking answer: that violates every tenet of feminism, and could be seen as making light of sexual harassment. OF COURSE, she knew that but she was making a *private joke* and one that made me chuckle. She was NOT endorsing such behavior, etc. And that is one thing I liked about her: she was NOT “on duty” 24-7.
My yoga teacher did something similar: we were ready to go to the basement of the recreational complex to practice our “partner yoga” poses. She put her arm around my shoulder and turned to the desk person and said: “I am taking him downstairs to sexually harass him.” (note: this was when “me too” was big). I laughed. I felt in no danger; I thought it was funny as it was directed at me: someone 9 inches taller and 60 lbs heavier. Again, she was not “on duty” and was joking among friends.
I should point this out though: at no point was any group of people put down, no one was really stereotyped (ok, maybe hetero men were, but not in a mean way). There were no slurs and nothing genuinely mean was threatened. And the audience was small; 2 or 3 people who knew each other well.
Life of an old goat 