Popular Popularity

Imagine a day where everybody gets their work done.  Where everyone reads about the latest research helping humanity.  Basically, imagine a utopia.  


This is what I envision a day would be like if our society wasn't so obsessed with celebrities.  I understand that, as humans, one of our primary characteristics is curiosity.  I accept this.  However, why do we need to know that Lindsey Lohan had a piece of toast for breakfast? (What her toast was topped with, though, is anyone's guess)  Why on Earth should I know what kind of car Paris Hilton drives?  And can anyone explain to me why, oh why, do I even know who Snookie is?  I think my life would be infinitely better if I had no knowledge of celebrity going-ons.  What about you?


Think about the shows: Keeping up with the Kardashians, Jersey Shore, The Bad Girls Club, Daisy/Flavor/Rock of Love 1/2/3/Bus.  Is this entertainment?  Is this what our society has come to?  While it's funny to make fun of these people, how much better would we be as a people if instead of watching these shows, we actually took the time to read.  Or build.  Or clean.  Or....anything.  When it comes down to it, I'm just not sure what these shows say about us as a people. 


My problem with all of this though, isn't just with the celebrities.  It's more with the paparazzi.  What a meaningless job to have.  How can you take pride in your work when all you do is get paid to stalk people?  They have been known to frequently cause accidents (even deaths, i.e. Lady Diana), invade people's privacy on a constant basis, and seem just plain annoying.  Is this something you can tell your kids about be proud?  I think not.


There is nothing wrong with wondering who is marrying who, or being curious about what projects are being developed.  But when I somehow know that Nadya Suleman, aka "Octomom", had a garage sale today, I think it's gone a little too far.  If you agree, I urge you to turn the channel the next time these types of shows come on.  Watch MSN...er...Fox...um...E!...uh...


Maybe you should just go rake some leaves.  It is fall, after all.


"What is fame?  The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing, and for whom you care as little."
--Lord Byron

Losing Language

I've decided I want this blog to get big.  I want people to read it, to respond, to start conversations.  Not just for my own mere gratification, but so that we can all stop and think a little more.  So you have my permission: Tell a friend, send the link, do whatever you want to do.  But please, at least once, comment!  Now, on to more important things...

With the advent of Facebook and Twitter, our language has seen a significant shortening.  Keeping our thoughts to 140 characters or less, while fun, has (I'm afraid) marked the beginning of the end of our elaborate, romantic, beautiful language.

Being a Historian, I often look to the past to dig deeper into today's problems.  And I'm always amazed at what I find.  From Shakespeare to Emerson to Longfellow, our language has been used to convey such a variety of emotions in such an inspiring, captivating way.  But it needs not be just the poets that use language in this fashion.  Below is a paragraph from an actual Civil War letter written by a normal soldier, Lieutenant Edward Lewis, to the wife of a slain comrade:

Mrs. Kellogg,

Dear Madam

     I would fain hope that I am not the first bearer of the tidings which it is my painful duty to communicate. If unhappily I be so, I can only bid you summon all your fortitude to read the next words I shall write, and may God soften the terrible blow; your noble husband is no more, he died the death of a brave man on the 20th while leading his company, sword in hand, in an important advance to a close position under the fire of the enemy’s works.  The fatal blow from a piece of shell in the head was at least merciful, in so far as that he died quietly and without suffering.  His comrades were especially around him, but he never spoke after the shot.  We have made every effort, by his special request before his fall, to send his body to you; but as no boats are allowed to assault the river at present, we have been compelled to postpone this purpose for the present.  We design to fulfill it at the earliest providable time.

(Courtesy of http://www.civilwararchive.com/LETTERS/letters.htm )

The poetry with which these words are written, conveying the worst of news, is something both sad and amazing.  Today, do we see these kinds of words written by a normal person?  Sure, mass produced letters can be written to communicate things, but these are so informal and impersonal they become hard to digest.  I myself can only remember a handful of times where I have written a personal letter to somebody.  

Think about this: When you get a nice email from somebody, it may make you feel pretty good.  You read it, maybe save it, or more likely, delete it.  But what if you sent a thoughtful, carefully penned letter to somebody? (Yes, I'm talking about snail-mail)  I can almost guarantee they would treasure it, or at the very least, greatly appreciate it.  

No, I'm not being paid by the ever-profitless U.S. Postal Service.  I'm simply making an attempt to re-introduce the wonders of the English language to everyone.  And though I may not succeed with any of you, I will succeed with myself.  So if you're lucky, expect a letter sometime. ;)

Yours most sincerely, 


Mike Borda


"Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow."
--Oliver Wendell Holmes

Is this nature?

Have we lost touch?  Often I walk out into the fresh air, and find myself a little perplexed.  Is this nature?

In my small yard, with the un-mowed grass (well, mowed, but usually not freshly), I stare out and wonder if this is what humanity is destined for.  No more forests, no more prairies, no more stunning mountain ponds.  Just a simple yard of half dead grass.  As a child, I dreamt of endless, unmanned meadows where I could lose myself in nature, meditating about the endless possibilities of life and mysterious perplexities of death.  But, as it seems with all people, somewhere on the road to adulthood I lost that childhood innocence and exuberance.  I realize now this was merely a fantasy.  But the scary part is that I fear one day children won't even have these dreams.  I fear they will grow up in a world where it's normal not to see nature, not to dream about the first blossoms of spring and last leaves of autumn.

Don't get me wrong, I like having modern conveniences.  I like it a lot.  I truly believe that society is better today for the advancements we have made in technology, culture, and general civility.  But, even given these advancements, it would be a tragic shame if we lost touch with what guided us through thousands of years of societal evolution.  We need nature to survive so that we survive, it's as simple as that.  No amount of technology can replace the feeling of seeing the reflection of sunrise on a perfectly placid alpine lake early in the morning.  Or the first breath of warm spring air after a cruel, unrelenting winter.  Or even the putrid smell of the decaying, mossy undergrowth in a dense tropical rain forest.  I wouldn't trade these things for all the simulations in the world.  

Staring back into my yard, I hope this isn't what it will come to.  Stronger, more passionate, and more influential people than I are working as I type this to help preserve what nature we have left.

I pray they succeed.

Remorseful Remembrance

I don't have many regrets in my life. Sure, I wish I had studied more in school, maybe traveled the world some more, the normal stuff. But there is one thing that I fear will haunt me for the rest of my life.

My grandfather, and my namesake, was, from all accounts, a great man. Born in Chicago in 1914, he had a rough life. The oldest of 3, he at times had to protect his mother and siblings from an abusive father. Then, like thousands of other great Americans, he answered the call to service. He joined the Army at the outset of World War II, and saw plenty of action travelling from North Africa to Italy, and later Germany. He was eventually promoted to Lieutenant, and received a Purple Heart after taking shrapnel in his leg.

The thing I really regret is that I didn't know him better. I was 20 when he passed, and already a History major. It bothers me that I didn't take the time to ask him questions about his experiences, or what he could teach me about war and life. As it seems for most, I imagine, I viewed him as "out of touch", and "old". I hope somehow he knows now that the older I get, the more I respect what bravery it took for him and all his comrades (including my other Grandfather, and many other relatives) to serve and protect our freedom.

Listening to my Dad, I know that the war took a tremendous toll on Bumpa (growing up I thought this was the Polish word for "Grandpa", until I learned it was just our word as kids for him). Honestly, I can't imagine the mental and emotional impact ordering men to do something that will kill them takes on a person. Seeing your friends and comrades every day, and then ordering them to take a building, knowing full well that some of them are going to die in order to complete the objective, is a daunting thought for me. The fact that these men witnessed such horrors and came back to live great, normal lives is amazing and inspiring.

I think we too often take for granted what others went through to let us live how we now do. For hundreds of years (even thousands) men and women have fought and lived in some of the worst conditions anyone can imagine, all because they knew it was necessary for the propagation of life. We are indeed a strange race, in that we love peace and freedom, but so frequently forget, or get greedy, so that we must then put ourselves through hell only to recognize it again afterwards.

People often throw around the phrase "Greatest Generation". Now I don't know if I could call any generation greater than another, but the fact that so many men and women around the world stood up against evil and tyranny, and gave their lives so that others may live free, is truly a testament to the character of our parents, grandparents, and great grandparents.

For all those that served, and who will serve to protect others in need: Thank you, and I hope your stories are never forgotten.

"I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, ‘Mother, what was war?'"
--Eve Merriam (American Poet)