|
|
|
The bus is full. The air–conditioning is a blessing on such conditions. What worries me is the great number of children. Two rows in front of me, there is a boy, about six years old, who is difficult to be restrained.
Generally, on tours, we are usually in a hurry to see as many sightseeing spots as we can. Unhappily, we are tired and there is not enough time. There is no space for deep thoughts. Some ideas cross our minds like flashes, but we put them on the back burner until oblivion covers them definitively. But on these long American roads, there is enough time, too much time... For me there is just the time for noting. I have all kind of thoughts.
In the meantime, all children have fallen asleep, except for that one in front of me, but – surprisingly – he is a good boy. His parents are to blame, not him. They did not care for the child, did not want to and they are sleeping now. Instead, the little boy has found comfort in playing alone. It is just remarkable how a child could play so quietly in less than one square yard. Now I understand his restlessness from the beginning: he knew his parents, and was trying to keep them awake; unfortunately all his efforts were in vain
In a Greyhound station, I heard someone asking for a ticket at reduced price as far as Santa Fe. As Santa Fe means “The Holy Faith”, we may amuse ourselves thinking which one is better: a whole faith at half price, or a half faith at full price?
As I already mentioned, the Americans assure us that almost everything that might be “the biggest” is to be found in the USA, starting with the greatest dwarf and finishing with the greatest pit in the world. Sometimes, they are right! The pit is the crater made by a meteorite dropped not far away by our route, about 35 miles east of Flagstaff. The leaflet that I have in my hand informs us about “The Planet’s Most Penetrating Natural Attraction”. (After such a natural penetration, we may violate everything much more quietly.)
This meteorite reminds me of other meteorites, much smaller, but from which people obtained the first samples of pure iron. At that time, they used iron for making jewelry. What a time!!! Iron Age came later, when people learned how to extract iron from ore, but nobody tells us about an age of steel. It is amazing how superficial the books of history are, and even what we consider to be general education. We learn the exact data when some events occurred, but rather less about why they happened, and which were their causes. Of course, the events are important, because they are landmarks in the line— time, helps us to fix in our memory the real exploits in history. Still they are not “the history”; they are only some of its landmarks. For example, it is usual to consider 1492, the year when the America was discovered, as finishing the Middle Age and the beginning of the Renaissance, even if they do not have any connection, or maybe just because of it. Taking an independent event, we do not have to choose among the real ones, and to arouse useless contests in this way.
Let’s return to the iron, meteoric or not. How many historians know how small the difference is between the composition of iron, cast iron and steel, and when the scholars found out it? Those whom I asked replied that they are not engineers, and do not care about this subject. It is not surprising that we see in some movies people using objects made by materials that were still not known at that time. The history of 18 and 19 centuries without the details of the most important inventions concerning the production of steel and its derivates looks like a story for children. So how does someone speak about steel, if he does not really know what it is?
Here is another example: we learn that Louis XIV was one of the greatest kings of France. In fact he was only the beneficiary of the monarchy, which had arrived at his zenith. He did not realize that the monarchy was coming to an end, and pushed the system beyond its admissible limits. He is the one who destroyed it. Due to his great mistakes, he brought its end sooner, hastening its death. He was on the top of the monarchy, but he did not create it, and was not at all the wisest king. Quite the opposite, he was its gravedigger. The fact that he was a top monarch was not due to his merits, but of his ancestors. If the historians speak about him as being a great king, it is because they saw him on the top. Besides, they show his mistakes as great events of that epoch, and glorify his exaggerations, though they led to the collapse of the monarchy.
The historians always use simplified schemes, according to their concepts, sometimes just with political interests. The history that my parents learnt in school was wholly different from what the communists tried to teach us during the communist regime. A history written by a French historian is different from one written by an English historian. An economist and a religious preacher look the history from very different points of view. I can understand it, but I cannot accept a smatter historians. That’s why there is not a real, correct, complete and thorough history, and each of us has our own history, a synthesis of what we have read and understood, according to our own conception. “History often is the painting of stupidities and crimes”. (Voltaire)
The steel is only an example that comes in my mind, due to “Meteor Crater”, but there are many others. It was a humanist, Victor Hugo, who said, “You admire especially what you understand”. The statement is correct. Odd is that nowadays “humanists” understand very little from scientific and technical fields. For not entering in such subjects, they often are in a hurry to say that they are not skilled in such fields, but with arrogance consider that what they know is "The Culture". I think this is "The Imposture": to consider having important ideas with little knowledge. Mathematics teaches us to think rigorously, with method, sequential and without gaps. To have a good head for mathematics proves to have a good head for thinking. The student who abandons it proves his inability of thinking. But it does not hamper him to follow a humanist carrier and, after it, to teach us how to think. (There is an exception: the one who taught me to think systematically was my teacher of Romanian Literature, probably because the topic is not systematic, but the teacher was.)
In Romania of 1950’s, for example, under the Russian’s supervision, they wrote a new textbook of history, full with "class struggle of exploited people against the exploiter" and of course the "huge role of Russian communists". The history classes became for several years classes of political propaganda. From my classmates, not a single one chose history as profession, as it would be immoral. And still some people did it. Are they real historians? Are they searchers seeking for the truth? Are they at least honest? Not at all! Several years later, things changed, but in the meantime those "historians" became teachers. Things like that occurred not only in Romania, but also in most countries and times. Now, if you want to learn something about a certain historical event, you must read at least three authors of different origin.
At the other extremity are the scientists. They want to know as much as they can, devote themselves entirely to their work and, as a consequence, the field of their activity becomes increasingly narrow.
In the United States, I had the opportunity to look into a book of history for high schools. There are lots of mistakes concerning the South–East part of the Europe, with or without tendency. On its maps, Romania does not appear. Of course, it is a small country, but the word “Bulgaria” appears instead of it, even if Bulgaria, from the geographic point of view is a state at Romania’s south border and three times smaller. As from the historical point of view, it played a smaller role, as most part of time it was under Ottoman Turkish Empire’s occupation.
In such conditions, it is not surprising that, between the two extremities, some sly boots, skilful at manipulating people, become leaders and make as local as world’s politics.
To not scorn what you do not understand is a matter of common sense. But common sense is a matter of meaning, and meaning belongs to philosophy. In the antiquity, the philosopher used to be the scientists of their time in all fields of knowledge. It is not accidentally that Schopenhauer said that he who wants to make serious philosophy ought first to study deeply an exact science.
As for Marx— a fellow said jokingly that if Marx had been an authentic scientist, he would have tested his system on animals first. Anyway, George Orwell’s "Animal’s Farm" was on the literary plan much a successful experiment than Lenin’s Russia on the plan of reality. I do not know if Orwell knew something about steel, but he surely had genius.
Erasmus of Rotterdam called such fellows "lettered fools". The meaning: if you do not have genius, learn something about steel.
In this point I lost many readers, I think. But I do not write this book for stupid people. Let’s go on with the others.
In the meantime, a little boy walked further away from his parents. The first who accepted him was a man in front of me who did what the child’s parents refused: to play with him. The next "victim" was myself. As my English is not so good for a chat with a child, I preferred to ask him questions, instead of answer at his unforeseeable ones. As this was not what he wanted, he abandoned me soon, which I must recognize was very comfortable to me. He is at larger now, and gained the liking of the other passengers, just because they remarked his parents’ lack of care. The little boy proved to be a nice and intelligent child, starting with the fact that he knew how to play alone more then an hour in a tiny space and without toys.
In the animal kingdom, it is the female that selects. The male only courts her delicately, and encourages her to take notice of him. Therefore, the female is the chief. The male is only the holder of the territory, its guardian, and fights with other males for it. It is amusing and amazing to watch how a small female dog scares away a big male dog with a simple and short barking, sometimes only a sneer, and humbled he will quietly leave. I never saw a male to treat rudely or force a female. In mankind’s world it is upside down. Women adorn themselves and men chose them. This difference between people and animals is surely true. The other things are less sure.
On this very long route, I remembered the advice to not buy an old car. It is true: I could’ve had a car breakdown and no one would help me. But why would no one help? What kind of society is this where people do not help each other? I think that the percentage of the highwaymen is not greater here than in Romania, where people still help. It does not mean that Romania is a country to covet. Quite the contrary! The same process is going on there too. The importance is the direction toward which the society goes. And why does it go there? For the Americans there is an answer: too much propaganda. They are educated in this way. Why? Please, do not ask me!
Easy, easy, we are approaching to Flagstaff. I do not understand why the Americans have a flagstaff — the staff or the stick of the flag — here, but spread their flag everywhere.
Before leaving Albuquerque, I had planned to visit Grand Canyon, but I changed my mind. It would be expensive enough and without utility for me. I thought that the whole canyon is scattered with chalets, cottages, villas and hotels, that could be visited if going along the river from one end to the other, and people move free like in the Romanian mountains. Now I learned that the great part of the canyon is wilderness and tourists may not visit it. There are only several places from where one may admire the scenery, and where only buses arrive, starting mostly from Flagstaff. This is not for me. Natural scenery does not impress me very much, and I was told there are not art galleries there. I had hoped to be able to stay there some days, to wander up and down and to paint. Going by bus to some fixed points for seeing the sceneries that I already saw in many photos would be a trip rather expensive for my budget that was getting smaller and smaller with every passing day. That’s why I took the bus toward Las Vegas. Maybe the grapes are too sour for me. Now I take myself off Flagstaff, even if I leave behind some small regrets.
Leaving Flagstaff, the bus crosses a forest. I did not see one for more than two weeks. That is possible now, because the road ascended on a higher mountain. The bus passengers are quite different now. There are a few of them, most being well dressed. This time the destination is Las Vegas. The most elegant is an elderly couple, with a princely air, typical for South Eastern Asia, maybe India. A real prince probably does not travel with buses, but maybe they are some fallen from power ones. If they hope to remake their fortune in Las Vegas, I make a complaint against them. They could be also some impostors, pretending to be princes, but I don’t think so. They seem to be honest. Anyway, I like them at a distance of several yards.
After a while, the road lowered and the same vegetation of the semi–desert appeared, if the word vegetation is not too much for several shrubs, a grass burned by sun and, of course, the cacti. The sun is on the point of setting down. Its slanting rays lighten the shrubs and the grass, which become so much brilliant, so dry they are. This is a small paradox that reminds me a Montaigne’s maxim (I think): man is like wheaten; the emptier headed he is, the more self-important he is. But we can imagine other less malicious maxims as well:
With or without maxims, the sunset is beautiful. The light has a different color. The reddish soil, the dry vegetation, I do not know what the exact cause is, but the landscape is really nice.
Yes, light is not visible directly, but only through its effects. It needs an object able to reflect light and prove in this way that light exists. In the interstellar space it is dark because there are not objects to reflect light.
Consequently, I cannot hope that people will remark my cleverness , only exposing my body walking along the streets. I must speak to someone who can hear and understands me.
The road rises again, this time on much higher mountains. The slopes are extremely steep and long. The vegetation lacks, as for the localities, they disappeared totally. There is nothing to view except the lights of cars coming from the other way. I do not know why the sleep does not seize me, although I am already tired, and the journey became as boring as it could be.
I am thinking again about several professions like historians, teachers, and even writers. Many parents encourage — sometimes guide — their children to follow a profession in according to what is supposed to be children’s vocation. Theoretically it is right, but practically not always. Here are two kinds of mistakes:
Now I am thinking to writers. There is the idea that a writer is someone able to handle words easily. Exaggerating a little, this conception is similar with someone saying that a writer must be a good calligrapher. In my opinion, a true writer must have something to say. Unfortunately, we are not able do discern such talent in a child. He needs first to live some experiences of life, to learn a lot, to understand something, and ask himself some questions. The gifted writers have the intuition of the future; the more modest ones can relate events from their epoch. But those who have nothing to say do not exist as writers, not matter what they print on their visit–card, no matter how many books they published, with or without help of some cultural societies. The form in which they write certainly is important. But, as a form without content, is of nobody’s interest, their books will have the same fate as any packaging if they do not say anything.
Theoretically, the literature may seize all the fields of knowledge. Consequently, the ensemble of all writings might mean culture, but a single writer is not necessary a man of culture, especially if his writings are only some superficial, sometimes romantic, descriptions of feelings or facts. Then the difference between literature and culture might be immense.
Meanwhile, I dozed off and now I have awakened in a very lighted area. Certainly, it is Las Vegas. Finally we arrived!
As everyone, I knew that Las Vegas must be shocking, particularly thanks to the illuminated signs. Surprisingly, they are not as bright as I had imagined. The cause is their huge number. It is similarly with what occurs in nature. Nobody projected it there, but it is nice just because of its infinite variety. The lights are strong, of different colors and as many as possible. Every square yard is used. The general effect is not strident, but just harmonious.
A good intentioned taxi driver carried me to a cheap hotel nearby. I came here to see the art market, not to gamble, so that my intention is to stay only a short time. Tomorrow it will be a new day for me, even if I am not Scarlet, Atlanta is far away behind me, and the times are changed.
 |  |  |
|
|
|