30 May Dropping the Scare Quotes
I will be brief today for two reasons. First, I tried all morning (and much of last evening) to write a fitting eulogy for Alasdair MacIntyre. This was to be my column for American Greatness tomorrow. As I noted in the mess of words I managed to plunk out on my laptop keyboard:
If you enter the term “Alasdair tMacIntyre” into the search function on the American Greatness website, you will get 6 results. Three of those results are columns I wrote, and one other is a column written by my friend (and publisher) Roger Kimball, citing my commentary (written elsewhere) on MacIntyre. All of this is to say that MacIntyre and his work have been profoundly influential in my intellectual development. It is also to say that I was profoundly saddened to hear of the great moral philosopher’s passing ten days ago. Despite having been 96 at the time of his death and having published his best-known and most beloved work more than four decades ago, MacIntyre and his thoughts remain surprisingly relevant today. Indeed, it may well be the case that he is more relevant today than he has ever been, while it is almost inarguably the case that he is more relevant now than almost any other philosopher of this century or the last.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get much further than that. I may keep trying, however, so don’t be surprised if you see the paragraph above again sometime soon.
Given my incompetence in addressing MacIntyre, the piece I had intended for you, gentle reader, was, instead, shipped off to my editor at American Greatness. I figured you’ll get to see it tomorrow anyway, so…in the end, there’s nothing lost.
My second reason for being brief is that I have things to do today that I normally wouldn’t have to do on a Friday afternoon. Mostly, I have to help set up for and then attend a graduation party.
Five years ago this upcoming July, I attended a “graduation ceremony” at Lincoln, Nebraska’s Pinnacle Bank Arena. I use the scare quotes above because, as you may recall, five years ago was smack dab in the middle of the COVID-era shutdowns. My daughter (whom I have written about in these pages before) didn’t get a senior prom, a last day of high school, or even a proper graduation. Yes, the school board eventually consented and allowed the seniors all collect their diplomas – while wearing masks in addition to their caps and gowns, of course! – but that “ceremony” was both abbreviated and anticlimactic. And heaven forbid anyone even entertained the idea of a party to commemorate the occasion. How dare they! In the end, they probably needn’t have bothered at all.
This past Saturday evening, I was in the same arena for another graduation ceremony, this one without the scare quotes. This one had all the usual pomp and circumstance – speeches, awards, diplomas, singing, etc. It was a real graduation. And it was for my oldest son (among 540 others).
I have mentioned him before in these pages as well – mostly as my perennial concert companion. Indeed, you might have been subjected to another column about another concert just last month, had you not been spared by the weather gods. For the record: concerts in April at Denver’s Red Rocks Arena can and sometimes do take place during blizzards. But that doesn’t mean that you have to go, especially if you can easily unload your tickets online to the band’s traditional fan base, which is comprised of people who barely notice the weather, much less are bothered by it.
As with my daughter, I am quite proud of my son. Like her, he has a black belt in taekwondo from Grand Master Daniel Longoria. Unlike her, however, he stopped at one. He earned a spot on the varsity track team this spring, throwing (putting?) the shot, despite being 5’11’’ and a mere 155 lbs., a testament to his determination. He is a third-generation National Merit Scholar and will be attending college on a full scholarship, as part of a business honors program (that, among other things, will enable him to graduate with his CFA; so…any of you asset managers looking for help in four years, keep us in mind).
Most notably, he is a good kid. Years ago, I had to tell my daughter and my wife (who had only sisters) that boys/men from the age of 14 to about 25 are generally unfit to be in the presence of normal people/pleasant company. While that remains true, this one is far more fit for interaction with humans than his father was at his age. And all of this, of course, can be attributed to the steady influence of the lovely and talented Mrs. Soukup, who remains his constant guiding force.
Anyway, tonight we celebrate – and next week, he gets to work! Then, next fall, he gets to enjoy his freshman year of college – something else the COVID nannies stole from his sister. She’s a little jealous of him for that, understandably, but mostly, she’s happy for him and proud of him.
We all are.
