Wednesday, 25 August 2010
So, instead of writing about something that happened one day, I’m going to write about something I’ve been meaning to write about for several days, but haven’t had the opportunity. Besides, I think today is a fitting day to write about it…as you will see at the end of this post.
I finished reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder Little House set of books. There are nine books in the series, and I decided it was high time to finally read them once the school semester was over back in May. I began right away, and had finished the first two books before May had even completed. I just finished reading the last book (The First Four Years) on the 18th of this month.
Simultaneously, Jennifer and I have been watching all the episodes of Little House on the Prairie, thanks to Netlfix. We started watching them in September of 2006, and, as of three days ago, just finished season 7 (of nine!).
Let’s compare and contrast the two, shall we?
First off all, there’s no comparing the first book (Little House in the Big Woods) with the TV show, as the show begins after the events of that book. It begins with the second book, which, appropriately, is titled Little House on the Prairie. Actually, the TV show’s pilot is a pretty close approximation of that book: acquiring and naming the horses, Mr. Edwards trek through the snow to bring Xmas gifts, meeting up with Indians, and eventually being kicked of the land courtesy of the US government. At the end of the pilot, the Ingalls family packs up and moves far, far away from that little house they’d built in Oklahoma Territory. This means, then, that the TV show’s title is kind of funny: the “little house” is not the ubiquitous homestead Pa built near Walnut Grove, but rather the one that we only see in the very first episode.
Book three (Farmer Boy) covers the life of Almonzo Wilder when he was a whipper-snapper. This, too, is not shown anywhere in the series.
In fact, it’s not until book four (On the Banks of Plum Creek) that the TV show begins to coincide with the books: Pa buys land and a sod house from Lars Hanson, Mary and Laura begin school in town, where they meet Ms. Beedle, Dr. Baker, and the Olesons. Nellie Oleson is there, and she’s too snobby for the other girls. Laura continually balks having to be a pretty girl, and instead wants to wear comfortable clothes and play ball with the boys. There’s even one chapter titled “Town Party, Country Party,” which, like the episode of the same name, depicts the snobby, boring party Nellie hosts and then the response party that Mary and Laura host.
In book five (By the Shores of Silver Lake), however, the Ingalls family is again on the move – this time to DeSmet, in Dakota Territory. And here the books and the TV show forever part ways. Silver Lake, and the next four books in the series, tell the story of the Ingalls family over the next eight years, but there’s only a passing resemblance to the show – which remains firmly planted in Walnut Grove: Mr. Edwards show up again, but only briefly. Almonzo and his brother Royal and sister Eliza Jane live in De Smet, too, where Eliza teaches school. Mary goes blind, baby Grace is born, Laura marries Almonzo, they have Rose…there are fires, snow storms that cover the first floor of the homes, crop failures, railroad adventures, and poor Jack dies…but apart from that, the TV show is pure fiction. There’s no such thing as Adam, Albert, Percival, Houston, Hester Sue, the Garveys or Mr. Edward’s wife and children.
Though all of the readings, I couldn’t help but wonder what the real Laura would make of the TV show. Granted, I don’t think less of the show because it doesn’t stay true to the books, but I just wonder…
At any rate: today would be the Wilders’ wedding anniversary. Happy 125th anniversary, Laura and Almonzo.
Thursday, 26 August 2010
I mentioned earlier that, when my Dad came for a visit in May, it was the first time in a long time that I’d seen him. Well, today I saw him again. This was pretty unexpected: he called on Monday and told me the Watchtower Society was paying for him, my stepmom, and another couple to fly up to Minnesota (and, if there’s one person the Watchtower Society owes a free trip to, it’s my Dad). Though he was going to be busy from Friday through Sunday, he said he wanted to make some time to see us on Thursday.
Well, his plane didn’t land until around 5:00, and he and my stepmom headed off to see my sister first, but, finally, in their typical whirlwind fashion, they arrived at our place at 8:30 in the evening.
We had a good time, really. They had gifts for Isla and Owen, and even a belated anniversary card and gift for us. Owen, who really wanted to show my dad his bedroom last time, finally got a chance to show him this evening. I’m not sure why, but Owen likes to invite everyone into his room. I guess once he gets you in there, he figures you’re gonna play with him. He’s usually right.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Lately, Owen’s been obsessed with really large numbers. I think it started several months ago, when he asked my wife, “Hey, do the numbers keep on going?” She said they did, and this absolutely blew his mind. He keeps trying to comprehend it; he’s asked me if maybe it’s possible that the numbers go in a circle and then come back around to zero. My first answer was a quick ‘no,’ but once I gave it some thought, I figured that since both positive and negative numbers proceed into infinity, then no one can really say what happens way out there on the numerical frontier.
Then, another day, he asked me what the biggest number was. I told him there is no biggest number. Then he asked me what’s the biggest number that I know of. “Well,” I said, “the biggest number with a name is googolplex.” He laughed at this absurd word, and then asked me to define it. So I did.
Ever since then, he’s been trying to find examples of googolplex in the everyday world. Today, he was especially obnoxious about it, and I finally had to flatly refuse to answer any large number-related questions.
The problem is…there really aren’t any real-world uses for googolplex. It’s just a fun (or frustrating, if you prefer) line of thinking to take. I mean, when Owen first found out about a million, he asked how long it would take to count to a million, and I was able to provide him a reasonable answer. I told him how many people live in Minnesota, and that gave him another way to think of a million. I did something similar with a billion, only this time I used the whole world as an example.
But then he kept asking how long it would take to count to a googol. “You’d never get there,” I said.
“What if you started counting when you were first born and you counted til you died.”
“Nope. You still wouldn’t get there. You wouldn’t even get close.”
“What if you started counting right when you first got into your mama’s tummy and—“
“No. You still couldn’t even get close.”
“But what if, when you were first born, you made a robot that counted super fast and the robot counted for your whole life, then would you get there?”
“No.”
One day, we were standing on the shore of the Mississippi River, and I picked up a handful of sand. “Look at all the pieces of sand in my hand,” I said. “How many do you think there are?”
He got all wide-eyed, and guessed that there were a googol.
“No,” I said. “There’s not a googol pieces of sand in my hand. Then I pointed out all the sand all the way up and down the river as far as we could see, and then on the far banks, too. “Do you see all that sand?” I asked him. “There’s not even a googol pieces of sand.”
Today, he continued with that questioning, and, while eating lunch, I said to him, “Owen, there’s just no real-world applications for googol, much less a googolplex.” Then I elaborated: “Remember all the sand in the world? Did you know that each piece of sand has trillions of atoms in it, and there are more stars in the universe than there are pieces of sand on the earth. And each of those stars are made up of more atoms than our planet. And do you know what? In all the universe, there are not even a googol atoms.”
That shut him up.
For about two minutes.