Before and After September
11
Xia Jiasi
2004-12-14
Before and After September 11
Text (Part 1 Paras. 1-6 )
As the ruins of the of the World Trade
Towers smoldered at the southern end
of Manhattan and the breeze stirred the
ashes of thousands of human beings, a
new age of anxiety was born. If
someone had slept through September
11 and awakened, Rip Van Winkle-like
today, he would open his eyes on an
astonishing new landscape.
Guardsmen toting M-16s are stationed at our
airport. The president of the United States
attends a World Series game and the airspace
over Yankee Stadium is closed, a line of
snipers positioned on the stadium rooftop.
The vice-president’s safekeepers whisk him
from place to place, just as his arch-nemesis
Osama bin Laden is presumably moved from
cave to cave halfway across the world.
Anthrax panic sends Congress running from
its chambers.
The events of September 11 divided our
world into two radically different eras.
We watch wistfully as the pre-9/11
world drifts away on its raft of memory,
cast in Technicolor shades of nostalgia.
We will remember that assassinated
world as idyllic, secure ( never mind
that it was neither ), we will speak of it
in the reverent tones reserved for the
dead.
Meanwhile, the post 9/11 era looms like an
unmapped wilderness. As with other
unclaimed territories throughout history, a
fierce battle is being waged for its psychic,
political and material capital. Former
president Bill Clinton has called this conflict
“the struggle for the soul of 21st century”,
and the spoils of war include some of our
most cherished values and liberties. Leading
the charge are the warriors of the Bush
Administration, a battalion of securitycrats
and generals who are attempting to colonize
the future with their own repressive agenda.
But there is a brighter side, a growing
chorus of dissenting voices who reject
paranoia and hubris and question the
rush toward becoming a security state.
There is a dialectic afoot in the country,
a stirring of peaceful purpose that has
been largely ignored by the mainstream
media, which assumes the public is
thinking in red, white and blue, when
actually the spectrum of emotions,
ideas and opinions is, like America itself,
multihued.
Just before his death in November 2001, Ken
Kesey described the state of the union in
succinctly Keseyian terms: “The men in suits
are telling us what the men in uniforms are
going to do to the men in turbans if they
don’t turn over the men in hiding.” With the
prescience of a dying man, Kesey ventured
that this was really a war between the brutal,
aggressively male way things had always
been and “the timorous and fragile way
things might begin to be”. Like many
Americans continue to do, Kesey nurtured
great hopes for a future constructed on a
model of mutual cooperation, trust and
rational thinking.
Before and After September 11
Teaching objective: to learn the writing style
of an argument of two approaches
Focus: two radically eras by Sep. 11
Difficulties: cultural background: Rip Van
Winkle, nemesis, Damocles, Maslow’s
pyramid, nepenthe, etc.
Method: group discussion
Homework: summary of the discussion
Time allocation: 8 periods
Two Approaches
The two approaches towards
September 11 are the most important
thing the readers need to pay attention
to in reading this article.
What are they?
What are two radically eras by Sep. 11 ?
Cultural
Background
Rip Van Winkle
NEAR to the town, in a cottage small,
Lived RIP VAN WINKLE, known to all
As a harmless, drinking, shiftless lout,
Who never would work, but roamed about,
Always ready with jest and songIdling, tippling all day long.
"Shame on you, Rip!" cried the scolding vrows;
And old men muttered and knit their brows.
Not so with the boys, for they would shout,
And follow their hero, Rip, about,
Early or late--it was all the same,
They gave him a place in every game.
At ball he was ready to throw or catch;
At marbles, too, he was quite their match;
And many an urchin's face grew bright,
When Rip took hold of his twine and Kite.
And so he frittered the time away-"Good natured enough," they all would say.
But the village parson heaved a sigh
As Rip, in his cups, went reeling by,
With a silly and a drunken leer-His good dog Schneider always near.
Rip was fond of his rod and line,
And many a time, when the day was fine,
He would wander out to some neighb'ring
stream,
And there, with his dog, would sit and dream;
Hour after hour, would he dozing wait,
And woe to the fish that touched his bait.
But the stream of his life ran sometimes
rough,
And his good "Vrow" gave him many a cuff,
For she was never a gentle dame,
And Rip was a toper, and much to blame.
But little did Rip Van Winkle care
For his wife or his home--he was seldom there-But tried in his cups his cares to drown;
His scolding wife, with her threat'ning frown,
At his cottage-door he was sure to see-"Ah! this," said Rip, "is no place for me."
So down to the tavern to drink his rum,
And waste his time with some red-nosed chum,
He was sure to go; for he knew that there
He would find a glass and a vacant chair,
And jolly fellows, who liked his fun,
And the tales he told of his dog and gun.
But his was still but a sorry life,
For, sot as he was, he loved his wife;
But he would tipple both day and night,
And she would scold him with all her might
Thus Rip Van Winkle had many a grief,
And up 'mongst the mountains sought relief.
For lowering clouds or a burning sun
He cared but little; his dog and gun
Were his friends, he knew; while they were
near
He roamed the forests, and felt no fear.
If tired at last, and a seat he took,
And his dog came up with a hungry look,
He had always a crust or bone to spare,
And Schneider was certain to get his share.
And then if a squirrel chanced to stray
In range of his gun, he would blaze away,
And he held it too with a steady aim-Rip never was known to miss his game.
But over his ills he would sometimes brood,
And scale the peaks in a gloomy mood;
And once he had climbed to a dizzy height,
When the sun went down, and the shades of night
Came up from the vale, and the pine-trees tall,
And the old gray rocks, and the waterfall
Grew dusky and dim, and faded away,
Till night, like a pall, on the mountain lay.
Full many a mile he had strayed that day,
And up in the mountains had lost his way;
And there he must stay through the gloomy night,
And shiver and wait for the morning light.
He thought of the stories, strange and old,
Which the graybeards down in the village told;
"And what," said he, "if the tale were true
I have heard so oft of a phantom crew,
Who up in the Catskills, all night long,
Frolick and revel with wine and song."
Just then a voice from a neighb'ring hill
Cried, "Rip Van Winkle!" and all was still
Then he looked above and he looked below,
And saw not a thing but a lonely crow.
"Ho, Rip Van Winkle!" the voice still cried,
And Schneider skulked to his master's side.
Just then from a thicket a man came out-His legs were short and his body stout,
He looked like a Dutchman in days of yore,
With buttons behind and buttons before;
And held a keg with an iron grip,
And beckoned for help to the gazing Rip.
Rip had his fears, but at last complied,
And bore the keg up the mountain side;
And now and then, when a thunder-peal
Made the mountain tremble, Rip would steal.
A look at his guide, but never a word
From the lips of the queer old man was heard.
Up, up they clambered, until, at last,
The stranger halted. Rip quickly cast
A glance around, and as strange a crew
As ever a mortal man did view
Were playing at nine-pins; at every ball
'Twas fun to see how the pins would fall;
And they rolled and rolled, without
speaking a word,
And this was the thunder Rip had heard.
Their hats looked odd, each with sugar-loaf
crown,
And their eyes were small, and their beards
hung down,
While their high-heeled shoes all had peaked
toes,
And their legs were covered with blood-red
hose;
Their noses were long, like a porker's snout,
And they nodded and winked as they moved
about
They tapped the keg, and the liquor flowed,
And up to the brim of each flagon glowed;
And a queer old man made a sign to Rip,
As much as to say, "Will you take a nip?"
Nor did he linger or stop to think,
For Rip was thirsty and wanted a drink.
"I'll risk it," thought he; "it can be no sin;
And it smells like the best of Holland gin;"
So he tipped his cup to a grim old chap,
And drained it; then, for a quiet nap,
He stretched himself on the mossy ground,
And soon was wrapped in a sleep profound.
At last he woke; 'twas a sunny morn,
And the strange old man of the glen was gone:
He saw the young birds flutter and hop,
And an eagle wheeled round the mountain-top;
Then he rubbed his eyes for another sight-"Surely," said he, "I have slept all night."
"Ie thought of the flagon and nine-pin game;
"Oh! what shall I say to my fiery dame!"
He, faintly faltered; "I know that she
Has a fearful lecture in store for me."
He took up his gun, and strange to say,
The wood had rotted and worn away:
He raised to his feet, and his joints were sore;
"Said he, "I must go to my home once more."
Then, with trembling step, he wandered down,
Amazed, he entered his native town.
The people looked with a wondering stare,
For Rip, alas! was a stranger there;
He tottered up to his cottage-door,
But his wife was dead, and could scold no
more;
And down at the tavern he sought in vain
For the chums he would never meet again;
He looked, as he passed, at a group of girls
For the laughing eye and the flaxen curls
Of the child he loved as he loved his life,
But she was a thrifty farmer's wife;
And when they met, and her hand he took,
She blushed and gave him a puzzled look;
But she knew her father and kissed his brow,
All covered with marks and wrinkles now;
For Rip Van Winkle was old and gray,
And twenty summers had passed away--
Yes, twenty winters of snow and frost
Had he in his mountain slumber lost;
Yet his love for stories was all the same,
And he often told of the nine-pin game.
But the age was getting a little fast-The Revolution had come and passed,
And Young America, gathered about,
Received his tales with many a doubt,
Awhile he hobbled about the town;
Then, worn and weary, at last laid down,
For his locks were white and his limbs were
sore-And RIP VAN WINKLE will wake no more.
Nemesis in Greek Mythology
In Greek mythology, Nemesis was the goddess of
retribution. She appears in the Theogony of Hesiod
as the daughter of Nyx (the goddess of Night):
"Baneful Night bore Nemesis, too, a woe for
mortals..."
It is interesting to note that just prior to this mention
of the birth of Nemesis, the poet Hesiod also makes
reference to the dreadful power of some other
daughters of Nyx, including the Fates and the Keres.
Taken together, these daughters of Night were often
feared because of their ability to punish the
transgressions of mortals. And certainly, considering
her position as the personification of retribution, it
was probably thought best to avoid making Nemesis
angry.
There is another aspect to the tale of Nemesis, and
that was her role as one of the many paramours of
the god Zeus. According to one source of the legend,
Zeus (who was always fond of beautiful females)
became enamored of the goddess. However Nemesis
wanted nothing to do with him. She tried to flee from
the god's unwelcome advances by transforming
herself into a series of fish and animals. Finally, Zeus
caught the object of his affection - some versions say
that Zeus assumed the form of a swan while Nemesis
was in the guise of a goose. In these shapes the pair
mated, and as a result Nemesis later laid an egg from
which the famous beauty Helen of Troy hatched
(however, it is important to remember that other
versions of the birth of Helen claim that it was Leda
who laid this egg).
Damocles
Dionysius was a fourth century B.C. tyrant of Syracuse. To all
appearances he was very rich and comfortable, with all the
luxuries money could buy, tasteful clothing and jewelry, and
delectable food. He even had court flatterers (adsentatores) to
inflate his ego. One of these ingratiators was the court
sycophant Damocles. Damocles used to make comments to the
king about his wealth and luxurious life. One day when
Damocles complimented the tyrant on his abundance and
power, Dionysius turned to Damocles and said, "If you think I'm
so lucky, how would you like to try out my life?"
Damocles readily agreed, and so Dionysius ordered everything
to be prepared for Damocles to experience what life as
Dionysius was like. Damocles was enjoying himself immensely
until he noticed a sharp sword hovering over his head, which
was suspended from the ceiling by a horse hair. This, the tyrant
explained to Damocles, was what life as ruler was really like.
Damocles, alarmed and quickly revising his idea of what made
up a good life, asked to be excused. He then eagerly returned
to his poorer, but safer life.
1) Physiological: hunger, thirst, bodily comforts,
etc.;
2) Safety/security: out of danger;
3) Belonginess and Love: affiliate with others, be
accepted; and
4) Esteem: to achieve, be competent, gain
approval and recognition.
5) Cognitive: to know, to understand, and
explore;
6) Aesthetic: symmetry, order, and beauty;
7) Self-actualization: to find self-fulfillment and
realize one's potential; and
8) Self-transcendence: to connect to something
beyond the ego or to help others find selffulfillment and realize their potential.
nepenthe
SYLLABICATION:ne·pen·the
NOUN:
1. A drug mentioned in the Odyssey as
a remedy for grief.
2. Something that induces forgetfulness
of sorrow or eases pain.
OTHER FORMS:ne·penthe·an—
ADJECTIVE
What is Wrong With SUVs?
SUVs represent a paradox to consumers
- television advertisements present
them as a way to return to nature, yet
they actually accelerate existing
environmental problems. Commercials
often depict happy families driving on
mountain roads, avoiding falling rocks
and enjoying the flowered wilderness in
leather-seated comfort. The sad truth is
that these vehicles are contributing to
the destruction of our natural resources.
In reality, only 5 percent of SUVs are
ever taken off-road , and the vast
majority of these vehicles are used for
everyday driving. And there are a lot of
them on the roads. In 1985, SUVs
accounted for only 2 percent of new
vehicle sales. SUVs now account for one
in four new vehicles sold, and sales
continue to climb.
Driving an SUV has a much greater impact on the
environment than driving other passenger cars. In
large part, this is due to double standards set by law
and government regulations. For example, current
federal regulations allow SUVs to have far worse fuel
economy than other vehicles. The federal corporate
average fuel economy (CAFE) standards set the fuel
economy goals for new passenger cars at 27.5 miles
per gallon (mpg). But under the law, SUVs are not
considered cars - they are characterized as light
trucks. Light trucks only have to achieve 20.7 mpg. It
should be noted that this is an average for all light
trucks, which is why it is possible to have SUVs on
the road that only achieve 12 mpg. In fact, some
SUV, like the massive Ford Excursion, are so large
that they no longer qualify as "light trucks," and are
not subject to any kind of fuel economy standards.
When CAFE was instituted in the 1970s,
there were few SUVs and light trucks on
the road, and they were primarily used
for farm and commercial work. Today,
however, the demographics of an SUV
buyer are quite different. The amount
of gasoline burned by a vehicle is
important for several reasons. The most
crucial is the threat of global warming.
Zeitgeist
Zeitgeist is German for "the spirit of the
age," and Zeitgeist is a chamber
ensemble wholly committed to
enriching and articulating that spirit.
Founded in 1977 to present the music
of living composers with passion and
authority, Zeitgest has won the
admiration of composers and audiences
across North America and Europe.
In its determination to map the full complexity of our
pluralistic and turbulent fin de siecle, the group has
explored an astonishing variety of musical idioms,
developing close ties with such avant-garde luminaries
as John Cage, Terry Riley, La Monte Young, Frederic
Rzewski and Harold Budd, and paying special attention
to nurturing younger composers. Believing that the
range of significant new work is wider than any
individual's current sympathies, the musicians of
Zeitgeist seek constantly to broaden their acquaintance
with existing and emerging styles, making the
ensemble a magnet for all that is vital in today's music.
Group Discussion