Closing Day

On Tusday, November 22 (a sad day for those of us alive in 1963), I closed on my new townhouse. Actually there are two townhouses attached to each other but it is not a duplex for the following reason. The Bishop lived on one half, the Chief Justice of the State Supreme Court lived on the other half. There is, that is, quite a wall between church and state: ergo two townhouses, not a duplex.

The closing went pretty well; it was held at the Catholic Diocese. We had an interesting side discussion about the difference between a church deed and a warrantee deed. Apparently the church offers title insurance as part of the closing to make up for not issuing a warrantee deed (or something along these lines....don't quote me). The reason is that there's something about a warrantee deed that limits the liability of something happening after the sale upon the death of the seller. But because the church will never die, the Diocese lawyer explained, that would put them in the position of having liability on all property they've ever sold into perpetuity. Ah, I said. That's pretty optimistic of you. Luckily everybody laughed.

I'm not moving in right away. But some friends came over Tuesday evening to have wine and enjoy sitting on the carpet. At least they pretended to enjoy it, which is why I know they are friends.

100 years old and a lot of stories. RIP

An aged grandparent died this morning; he was 100 years old and one month exactly. A very very kind man. Once about five or so years ago I said to him: "Grandpa Jack, I've never heard you say a nasty thing about anybody. Ever. Is this a conscious decision on your part? Do you deliberately hold your tongue or are you just always nice? Have you ever said something aloud that was unkind?" He considered for a moment and said, "I've heard that Hitler wasn't such a great guy."

His older sister died a few years ago at 104. She had been losing her hearing for some years. Once, when she was about 100, her son asked if she wouldn't like to get a hearing aid. "No," she said. "I've heard enough."

The Prom Date(s) Paradigm

There are two kinds of problems in the world, no prom date and too many prom dates. Now I know the more formal thinkers among you will say that this is just another way of talking about scarce resource issues but it isn't, really. Think about it. The no prom date problem is really a whole bunch of problems incorporating tribal customs, ambiguous rituals, perceived or actual lack of power (or agency) and the attendant desperation that evokes, the question of whether to make the requisite purchases and rentals ahead of time on the chance of a date or put it off until a date is secured, and the social performance of simultaneously seeking a date and pretending one isn't a total loser.

The too-many prom date problem involves a host of entirely different decisions to be made: weighing options in a social context, thinking long-term or short-, listening to heart or head, dealing with the messiness of letting someone down, obsessive self-questioning about ethics and "the right thing," and of course quietly crowing that indeed, you have more than one date to the prom.

Do you prefer one problem to the other? It's an interesting question. At this point in my life I find I am deaf to the siren song of most prom-like social customs. Absent this pull, who really cares if one gets to go or must hurt someone in order to go? Still, hurting a person doesn't get any easier over time (for me at least) while remaining content at home (with a book) does.

Questions to Ponder

What does it mean to "dine out on a story?" (People, primarily British, use this phrase all the time but without saying precisely what they mean. According to the OED, the phrase "dined out on" means to be given hospitality at dinner partly or chiefly for the sake of one's conversation or knowledge about [a specific incident or topic, etc.]. ) Does a person gain something from having a good story to tell? What are stories worth? Do those people with good stories to tell have some sort of social advantage over those who don't? Does this social advantage translate into economic gain? (Can one translate everything into economic terms -- or, rather, can such unquantifiables be quantified? It's a side question but I think a crucial one.)

For me the question was first raised in college or soon thereafter, when talking to friends about really horrible dating experiences. As bad as things ever got, we could always salvage what we called Anecdotal Value from the episode. The date with the cheap guy who frowned at me for ordering the blue cheese dressing after the waiter said it was an extra fifty cents? No second date but the first had positive Anecdotal Value. Did I dine out on the story? No, but my friends enjoy it and I enjoy telling it. It had some kind of value, but what? More than fifty cents certainly.....

Welcome to AnecdotalValue

You who know who I am know that I plan to win the Nobel Prize for Economics with this idea and this site. So welcome. It's the Ides of November and I welcome any and all readers to join me in examining -- and eventually quantifying -- this phenomenon. What is Anecdotal Value? Does it have value? How can it be assessed/weighed/quantified?