News from the Front Porch Republic
Greetings from the Porch,
We're a month out from our conference in Waco, TX. We have a few spots left for the farm dinner, so reserve a seat soon if you're hoping to join us for that.
- In this week's Water Dipper, I recommend essays about fairs, atherosclerosis, and toothaches.
- Casey Spinks reviews Callan Wink's new novel and ponders its portrayal of masculinity: "It’s now common (read passé) to debate the crisis of masculinity. It is passé, not because it is unimportant, but because the debate stays on the level of what roles men fulfill, what parts they no longer play, on where in the social and political system they should fit in the future. Understandable, given the assumption that sex and gender are essentially social categories—but wrong. For manliness is first a matter of men, individual persons, souls if you’ll allow the word, and only thereafter of the categories to which these men belong."
- Emily G. Wenneborg draws parallels between interpreting her toddler and decoding the ineffable: "'I feel like I’m running a cipher all day long!' That’s how I’ve described caring for a young toddler whose urge to communicate is rapidly outpacing his emerging language skills."
- Joshua Pauling recalls sage advice from a pioneer in artificial intelligence: "Chatbots aren’t new. Joseph Weizenbaum created one in 1966. And what happened next led him to become a vocal critic of his own creation. What did he see that we need to see now?"
- Brandon McNeice reports from a neighborhood where front porches still matter: "A summer evening in Southwest Philadelphia. Porch lights flicker on as dusk settles over narrow rowhouse streets. Music floats from a speaker. Kids ride scooters in the street. Neighbors wave from stoops where they’ve settled in folding chairs. A Buick eases past, gleaming with intention. It could be 1954, or it could be last week."
- Elizabeth Stice gives practical advice for how we might address the loneliness epidemic in our own communities: "'What is to be done?' The question echoes from Chernyshevsky to Tolstoy to Lenin and it is always a good one. No doubt there are great programs and policies to be implemented. But what are some simple practices we can adopt in our daily lives, in the meantime? Anything we have not already discussed at length? What are some ways we can be better connected and encouraged right now? I have three ideas for you."
- Michial Farmer listens to songs about freedom this week and ranges across genres and millennia in doing so.
Another book I reread this summer is one of my absolute favorites: Robert Farrar Capon’s The Supper of the Lamb: A Culinary Reflection. I have no idea how Capon pulls this book off—Is it a cookbook? A theology of creation? Self-help from a very opinionated man? Whatever it is, it’s sui generis and absolutely brilliant. It also makes me hungry for rich broth and light pastry. Here is the first of his qualifications for writing a cookbook that Capon lists at the outset:
First, I am an amateur. If that strikes you as disappointing, consider how much in error you are, and how the error is entirely of your own devising. At its root lies an objection to cookbooks written by non-professionals (an objection, by the way, which I consider perfectly valid, and congratulate you upon). It does not, however, apply here. Amateur and nonprofessional are not synonyms. The world may or may not need another cookbook, but it needs all the lovers—amateurs—it can get. It is a gorgeous old place, full of clownish graces and beautiful drolleries, and it has enough textures, tastes, and smells to keep us intrigued for more time than we have. Unfortunately, however, our response to its loveliness is not always delight: It is, far more often than it should be, boredom. And that is not only odd, it is tragic; for boredom is not neutral—it is the fertilizing principle of unloveliness.
Thanks for spending some time with us on the Porch,
Jeff Bilbro