11/7/23

 Tuesday, November 7, 2023

In bed at 9:30, awake at 4:50 after not very restful sleep, onto lzb till 5:10.  44°, cloudy day ahead, high of 48°, wind NNW at 10 mph, 9-14/20. Sunrise at 6:34, sunset at 4:36, 10+2.         

Treadmill.  24 hours ago I was on the treadmill watching Dana Bash.  Today, so far, CPP.  Fingers crossed. . .  Today  30:01, 0.62, 2 p.m.  CPP all day before & CPP after, watching interview of Edward Said.

Loomings.  Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

A million years ago when I was a very new law professor teaching Property Law to first semester, first year law students, then called freshmen and now called 1Ls, I would read to my students this wonderful opening paragraph of Moby Dick on a day in November when tensions were thick as their class notes and course outlines were burgeoning and the intimidating final exams were approaching.  I was not suggesting that, if they were feeling as Ismael was feeling, they should quit law school and sign on to a ship's crew, but only that I realized that some of them, perhaps most or all of them, might be going through "a damp, drizzly November in [their] soul" and that they  needed to occasionally take a step back and keep a sense of perspective in their lives.  The law school experience, especially in those days, especially in the first year, and especially as experienced at the then-unwelcoming MULS, could be overwhelming.  I tried to be more welcoming and understanding than some of my more senior colleagues.  I was only a few years older than most of the students and I sympathized with what they were going through, having gone through it myself only a few years earlier.  Indeed, as a young professor rather fresh out of law school myself, I was going through very similar experiences myself.  Those freshmen law students from the early 1970s are now approaching their 50th Class Reunions  Many are retired; some are dead.  Over the years, many of my students from those years have told me they remember my reading the passage from Moby Dick, and that they appreciate it, the break from normal classroom routine.  I still have the leatherbound Franklin Library edition of Moby Dick from which I would read.  Now in my old age I need to follow my own advice about perspective as I face some "damp, drizzly November" days of my own.

Homage to Switzerland, a tri-partite short story by Ernest Hemingway.  I read it yesterday but don't understand what Hemingway's point was.

Election Day. Abortion won constitutional protection in Ohio.  Ohio also voted to legalize marijuana.  Andy Beshear retained his governorship in Kentucky.