Published another short story, and announcement about a kickstarter campaign

Posted by Sappho on May 15th, 2022 filed in Fiction


Two announcements about my short story writing:

First, my short story CVE-2029-78385 is published in the current issued of Cathedral Canyon Review

Second, Air and Nothingness Press has started a kickstarter campaign for their new book Orpheus and Eurydice Unbound, which will include my short story “Snake Bite Day.”

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Update on short stories, and some Quaker links

Posted by Sappho on May 8th, 2022 filed in Fiction, Quaker Practice


I see that it has been way too long since I have posted to this blog. Let me catch you up.

I have been writing and submitting short stories, with a goal of reaching 100 rejections this year. I’m behind on that goal (though I have gotten plenty of rejections). But I did get a couple of short stories accepted. The first was to an upcoming anthology from Air and Nothingness Press, called Orpheus and Eurydice Unbound. The second was to an upcoming issue of Cathedral Canyon Review.

On a note completely unrelated to the short stories, a member of my Quaker meeting ran across, and pointed out to the rest of us, a blog post by a visitor to our meeting in 2015:
http://deanandmindygotochurch.blogspot.com/2015/09/orange-county-friends-meeting-irvine.html

We have moved since then, from the office building in Irvine to renting from Orange Coast Unitarian Universalist Church (a move which allows great opportunities for cooperation between us and the UUs). And, of course, the past two years of pandemic have made some alterations in our meeting life (hybrid worship, masks in person). But the blog post is a good description of Quaker worship.

I’d also like to link this post by Quaker blogger Johan Maurer: https://blog.canyoubelieve.me/2022/05/abortion-and-cost-of-rhetoric-repost.html

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A COVID Retrospective

Posted by Sappho on February 5th, 2022 filed in Health and Medicine, News and Commentary, Vaccinations


It’s now two years since China shut down their major national holiday, the point when I realized that COVID was going to be awful. I didn’t, at the time, realize it would be awful for *us* – I thought it would, like SARS, happen in other countries, and we would stop it at the border. But it would be awful. Anyway, two years is enough time to reflect on the various COVID response measures that have been tried, and what was not done. I’m not going into what I’ve read of the science, in each case, because that would make this post way too long – I just want to be clear where I stand, in terms more nuanced than the way we often use *one* aspect of pandemic response (lockdowns or masks) to frame the debate.

1) Preparation: Not long ago, Facebook served me up a memory of some pandemic response getting shut down in 2018, with me remarking, “seems like a bad idea.” I hope we can agree now that having sufficient pandemic preparation in non-pandemic years is desirable.

2) Restricting movement in a global way (not based on testing for disease): Disease follows human contact, so, intuitively, it makes sense that restricting movement to prevent people from coming into contact will also limit the spread of disease. There are a couple of versions of this crude tool.

a) Travel bans: No, I don’t mean the “Muslim ban” type that we argued about throughout the Trump years. I mean the type that both Trump and Biden have done, more or less at the same time that every other country did the same: Barring people from a country where a novel disease, or variant, or outbreak is found from entering your country. On the one hand, blocking people at the border can be a tool to allow time to prepare response, and buying time is a useful thing. But there are a couple of pitfalls. First, for diseases where you *can* fairly effectively block your border (e.g., Ebola, where you don’t have tons of asymptomatic transmission), people may lock down borders *too* far, preventing needed medical assistance to the countries where the outbreak is taking place, and, besides being not especially fair to the countries where the outbreak is taking place, this can be short-sighted, as you can’t seal every border forever (borders are porous even when we try to make them otherwise), so you do want to help put out your neighbor’s fire before it spreads to you. Second, for an illness that is both very contagious and one that has a significant portion of people who can spread it without showing symptoms, you may find out that every time you close a border you closed it too late (which is pretty much what happened with COVID).

b) Lockdowns: By “lockdown” I mean not every possible COVID restriction, but specifically the ones that involve telling most of the population to stay home.During the pandemic, we saw, over and over, how even a couple of weeks of lockdown would cause the case rate to go down sharply.

And some portions of “lockdown” were almost pure gain. It was hard for companies to send their white collar workers home (and as one of the people whose job it was to make that possible, I know something of what it cost). But also, most of the white collar workers who were sent home, privileged though they might have been relative to many of the essential workers who didn’t get sent home, were also people who worked for a company at jobs they couldn’t afford to quit, had to do what the company said and work where the company said, and didn’t have unions that could speak up in an organized way and say, cases are spiking, we can work from home, please send us home. Absent executive orders from governors, a lot of people would have been out and about, increasing the risk of COVID spread, who really didn’t need to be.

But in other ways, lockdowns were *very* costly. Also, because they were *very* costly, they tended to start later than would have been optimal, in epidemiological terms. Sometimes (with the odd exception of school closures) they lifted when case rates were still quite high. And understandable resentment of lockdowns made it easier for resistance to other, less restrictive and more targeted measures, things that helped *avoid* lockdowns, to be treated as more of the same thing, or a slippery slope to lockdowns.

Finally, almost no one has any will left to go through lockdowns, now that vaccination is widespread. Vaccinated people don’t want to be locked down because others chose not to be vaccinated, and unvaccinated people aren’t *more* willing to lock down than they are to get vaccinated.

3) Happy talk: What, me worry? There’s no pandemic/We’ve got the pandemic totally licked. This proved to have a lot of support, but didn’t work very well.

4) Movement restriction: Preventing super spreader events, while otherwise staying open (e.g. capacity restrictions). This measure can work well if you are also doing other things to bring case rates low. I, for one, am still willing to live with this level of restriction, any time ERs are overwhelmed, even if the ERs are mostly overwhelmed with unvaccinated people. I may wear masks to crowded events for a long while, whenever we are past global mask mandates. But, if less burdensome than lockdowns, it’s still more burdensome than some alternatives.

5) Test/trace/quarantine: Various versions of this have been tried. First, there’s the test/trace/quarantine model where you test and quarantines based on whomever contact tracers have been able to track. The countries that fared best, like South Korea, tended to be good at this. Countries that hit testing bottlenecks had more trouble – testing capacity is important, and even an imperfect test that more or less works is better than not testing. Also important, testing fast enough. If your turnaround is too slow, then people have spread the disease to others before they have been able to find out that they were exposed. Second, there’s regular rapid testing of large groups of people. This appears to work well in places like hospitals and schools where you can get rapid tests accurately reported, sometimes less well with politicians, some of whom don’t accurately report their own test results when they decide the incentives for being out and about are strong enough. Third, there are COVID apps. This potentially promising technology, despite Google and Apple generously supplying technology to do this in a way that preserves privacy, and the work of many open source volunteers, appears to have been useful in only a few places, because mostly there wasn’t a lot of uptake. Still, a few places is better than none. Fourth, there’s wastewater testing, which looks really promising, and which is a lesson I hope we can take from this pandemic.

6) Infection prevention: Preventing infection without locking people down is ideal, and we have several tools to do this. First, chronologically, came masks. Masks are a pain in the neck, especially if you are on the job and have to wear them all day. But they are *much* less of a pain in the neck than either getting COVID or being locked down. Masks FTW. Even cloth masks are significantly more effective than nothing, and double masking with cloth and surgical, or, as I do now, using N-95 or KN-95, can be highly effective. Second, vaccines – immunity derived from vaccines is better than immunity derived from disease for a simple reason – you didn’t have to get sick to get immune! The risk is way less than from the illness, and the intervention way less burdensome than lockdown or even masks. The downside is that it turns out that coronavirus immunity, of any kind, doesn’t last that long. But hey, I could live with an annual booster, maybe combined with our annual flu shots. Third, ventilation. This option is very promising; a lot of our disease decline in earlier generations came from changes in our water systems, and improved ventilation could similarly help with multiple respiratory diseases. Another form of ventilation is the “take everything outdoors when socializing during an outbreak” approach (don’t shame people for interacting outside!).

7) Treatments, both early and late: Scientists found multiple useful treatments quickly. Science, FTW! Here we have a couple of obstacles. In areas where trust in public health is low, some people’s faith in treatments is inversely correlated with the scientific evidence for the treatments. Second, sometimes we have good treatments that still aren’t available for many of the people who need them.

8) “Protect the vulnerable”: On the one hand, protecting just the vulnerable turned out to be an awful approach when case rates were high, vaccines not yet available, and even healthy people had a significant chance of suffering long term disability from an infection (even if said infection mostly killed people already vulnerable due to age or preconditions). Also, it’s hard to protect older people if the young people who interact with them aren’t protecting, and the level of lockdown that people had to go through in retirement homes was painful. But, as we move beyond the pandemic period, some level of “protect the vulnerable” is going to have to stay. Well before we had to show vaccine cards to attend events in Los Angeles County, even more conservative Orange County required vaccine cards to be presented to visit a hospital. We are not going to eliminate COVID – maybe we could have once, but that chance has long since flown out the window. Part of learning to live with COVID will be learning to live with the fact that some are immune deficient and can’t be protected with vaccines as well as the rest of us can, and that we need to take care of their safety as well.

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Of COVID and January 6

Posted by Sappho on January 4th, 2022 filed in News and Commentary


On January 6, 2021, I drove to San Diego for my first appointment in a vaccine trial. I went through my screening interview, received my first dose of what, as far as I knew then, could either be an experimental vaccine or placebo, and drove home. As I had taken the day off work, the first thing I did when I got home was to check Twitter. It was a swing from the best of humanity – people working to find a solution for a terrible pandemic – to the worst – a Big Lie inspiring a violent attempt to prevent the person who actually won the election from becoming president.

Trump was a horrible president for so many reasons, but two important ones were his selfish failure to address the COVID pandemic, and his selfish refusal to acknowledge that he lost the election.

The difference between Trump and Biden on COVID is clearcut, even as the case count rises again under Biden. Trump lied to us about things he knew at the time about the extent and danger of the pandemic. He made it clear that he didn’t care when states saw emergency rooms overwhelmed, if that happened in states that didn’t vote for him, and he tried to play “I would like a favor, though” with Democratic governors, making it clear that he expected assistance to those of us who lived in blue states to be conditioned on expressions of gratitude that he could use in his campaign. He undercut trust in public health by promoting quack cures and convincing his supporters that Fauci was a villain for differing with him. He made masks a symbol of subordination rather than care and fighting COVID a matter of machismo rather than science.

At the same time, the difference between Trump and Biden on COVID is far less clearcut than the fact that Trump lost the election. Biden won both a popular majority and the electoral vote. The election wasn’t especially close. The vote was counted and recounted. Trump got his day in court again and again and again, and lost over and over, because he had no evidence whatsoever of fraud. After all of that, he incited a mob, and then sat watching TV for hours while Congressional leaders pleaded with him to send help. It’s a dereliction of duty that I never expected to see from a president. And no, it doesn’t matter whether he knew he was lying (as I believe he did) or whether he gaslit himself into believing he won because he wanted to believe that so much. As President, you don’t get a mulligan on either. It is one of the most important jobs of a president, when he loses an election, to acknowledge that fact and to ensure a peaceful transition of power. This was our “please to remember the Fifth of November” moment, and it should never be forgotten.

And yet, for the most part, people who had supported Trump that far continued to insist that he had won, simply because he lied adamantly enough. Republican elected officials, for the most part, either went along with the Big Lie or chose to treat the Big Lie as a matter on which they and Trump could agree to disagree – sure, he still insists he won when he lost, but he lowered our taxes.

And this is why I don’t argue with Trump supporters about whether Trump or Biden handled COVID better. By comparison with the fact that Trump lost the election, this difference, clear though it is to me, is less clear.

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Only one problem we can triage

Posted by Sappho on December 18th, 2021 filed in Computers


On Twitter, Lesley Carhart notes that’s she’s heard complaints that InfoSec Twitter is now all about log4j and has no time for Ukraine. But, she says, for us in InfoSec, there’s only one problem we can triage.

A lot of folks are in that position. If you’re a US diplomat working with Ukraine, I imagine that the question of what can be done to dissuade Russia from attacking Ukraine is the only problem you can triage. If you’re in InfoSec, it’s log4j. If you work in an ER, it’s the upsurge in COVID cases as omicron hits, and how to serve people in the ER for other reasons when you’re flooded, once again, with COVID. If you’re organizing relief for people hard hit by tornado damage in Bowling Green, Kentucky, then tornado damage in Bowling Green, Kentucky is all you can triage. And many others with less newsworthy problems have all they can do to triage how to address just one thing.

But there are also always at least some of us who aren’t overwhelmed, and when those of us who are, for the moment, not overwhelmed decided to turn our minds to public affairs, because we do still live in a democracy, then it’s important to choose wisely which problems we aim to address. We need to include long term problems, like how to address climate change, and immediate problems, like what policies and system changes (sick leave for everyone, please!) will let us address COVID. And we need not to be diverted by thing-adjacent arguments about symbolic things and attempts to piss off the people we don’t like, but to spend more time defending what desperately needs to be preserved and fixing what desperately needs to be fixed.

Till then, if there’s only one problem you can triage, you simply have to keep on triaging the problem that’s in front of you, the one that you can address.

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An explanation for my friends not in IT of why the log4j vulnerability is such a pain in the butt

Posted by Sappho on December 16th, 2021 filed in Computers, Daily Life


Turning a Twitter thread that I wrote yesterday about log4j into a blog post:

For those of you who are seeing #log4j in your Twitter feed, and aren’t in jobs where you have to know what it’s about, here’s what makes it such a bear to fix:

1) A company may have different software packages, managed by different teams, that are vulnerable. That’s not all.

2) Fixing these packages isn’t just a matter of finding your own pom.xml files in your own Java projects and telling them to use the new #log4j . Because part of the vulnerability is in other widely used software packages that depend on #log4j .


3) So fixing #log4j requires that log4j itself get patched properly, but also that the packages depending on it be fixed, and then that the packages depending on those packages be rebuilt – and these steps may need to be repeated as vulnerabilities get found in the fix.

4) Software that scans for dependencies on packages with vulnerabilities, built into your CI/CD pipeline and run routinely, helps a lot with finding what teams in your company need to update to the fix, when a 0-day like #log4j hits (and also for more routine stuff).

5) But still a huge undertaking to get all the software on which we all depend fixed, as exploits circulate. /End

Now, a few more points that I didn’t mention in my Twitter thread: Why is log4j, something that you may never have heard of before it hit the headlines if you are not in IT, so ubiquitous? Because it writes things in log files. Programs need to keep log files, so that their maintainers can track all kinds of things. And if you’re writing stuff in log files, you don’t want to reinvent the wheel. You take something that someone already wrote. log4j isn’t the only such package, but it’s the most commonly used one for Java applications, and Java is one of the most commonly used languages for writing web applications.

Software tends to log even mistakes, so you can know what bad data was supplied. But on computers, some bad data can be deliberately crafted by bad actors to make computers do things that they’re not supposed to do – we have names for these types of exploits (such as SQL injection, if it’s a SQL database that’s being exploited). This is why we need to track, not just individual vulnerabilities, such as log4j, but what the top types of vulnerabilities are, so that application developers can be attentive to coding to avoid them. One of the lessons of log4j is for any other developers of logging packages to be sure that their packages don’t have the same vulnerability.

Meanwhile, getting a vulnerability patched everywhere is a huge undertaking. Even really old vulnerabilities, like the Apache Struts vulnerability that caused the Equifax breach in 2017, can still be found in the wild somewhere.

I attended a Sonatype this morning where the presenter said that, as of this morning, about half of all log4j downloads tracked by their software had been updated. The other half still had not been.

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Friends Journal Speculative Fiction Issue

Posted by Sappho on November 7th, 2021 filed in Fiction, Quaker Practice, Speculative Fiction and Other Geekiness


Here’s what I have been up to while I have been neglecting the blog: I have been writing and submitting short stories. And last week, I had my first short story published: Pistachios and Cats.

It’s part of a whole speculative fiction issue of Friends Journal. Check out some of the other stories!

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Twenty Years

Posted by Sappho on September 11th, 2021 filed in Memory, News and Commentary


I’ve written, on prior anniversaries, I think more than once, the post where I remember just where I was when the planes hit the towers, how I heard, how I followed the emails, through the day, from my sister who lives in Brooklyn, and who then worked in Manhattan, as she holed up in her office waiting for the subway to start again, while her brother-in-law joined the crowd walking across the Brooklyn bridge. I’ve probably written about the stories and memes we exchanged afterwards – the rabbi reminding us of the meaning of Shavuot, the meme that showed the towers rebuilt in a form that had them giving the finger – take that, Al Qaeda!

I don’t want to talk about that today. I want to talk about that brief period of unity after 9/11, the time when, if you were of a more conservative bent, you took heart in seeing your not so conservative neighbors join you in raising flags (because flags were a sign of mourning and not a sign of support for one political side), and, if you were of a more liberal bent, you could take heart in seeing the whole country join in support of NYC – for the time being, at least, as fully American a city as any, and not the butt of suspicion from the right.

First, I want to nuance that memory of unity that many of us have. We were, right before the planes hit, a country divided, as we often are. Democrats had been shocked to find, for the first time, the theoretical possibility that the electoral college would deliver the presidency to a popular vote loser fulfilled. There was a bitter ongoing debate about same-sex marriage. The hot news from DC concerned the death of an intern named Chandra Levy, and, because it turned out that she had been having an affair with the Congressman for whom she worked, Gary Condit, there was rampant speculation that he had her killed.

We were, even right after the planes hit, not free of division. I spent the evening, in a chat room, talking with a man who thought 9/11 was an inside job.

Most people were ready to attack Afghanistan – at the beginning, that war was the most popular war I have known in my lifetime – and I’m convinced that, whatever else Gore might have done differently, he, too, would have taken us to war with Afghanistan (maybe with different aims, and probably not with a simultaneous war in Iraq, but, yes, still at war with Afghanistan). But a few of us didn’t want to go to war, and held out hope that a deal could be arranged where the Taliban surrendered Osama bin Laden for trial.

Many, including Bush at the time, united in calling for Muslim-Americans not to suffer the brunt of anger at completely different Muslims – but just today, on Twitter, I saw a tweet from a Muslim woman about how, that day, aged eighteen and away from home for the first time, she was asked to leave her class so her classmates could express their grief safely. She was not alone in finding herself suddenly “other” on that day.

One of my blog friends, not long after 9/11, wrote a post about how 9/12 shook his faith – and this was well before the Iraq War and the point where torture became a matter for debate, and not something many of us assumed our country simply wouldn’t approve.

Still, something changed, between then and now. After the planes hit, everyone in the country was a New Yorker, for a little while. When COVID hit Brooklyn, and the sirens blared, everyone in the country was very much not a New Yorker. And this I don’t understand.

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Integrity

Posted by Sappho on September 6th, 2021 filed in Queries


Yesterday, at my Quaker meeting, we read the advices and queries for the month, and had a little time after meeting for worship to reflect on them. This month, for Pacific Yearly Meeting, the queries are on integrity. I won’t post the full advices, just the queries:

  • How do I strive to maintain the integrity of my inner and outer lives?
  • Do I act on my principles even when this entails difficult consequences?
  • Am I honest and truthful in all that I say and do, even when a compromise might be easier or more popular?
  • Am I reflective about the ways I gain my wealth and income and sensitive to their impacts on others?
  • Is my life so filled with the Spirit that I am free from the misuse of alcohol and other drugs, and of excesses of any kind?
  • Do we, in our Meeting, hold ourselves accountable to one another as members of a healthy family?

There’s a song that Emmy Lou Harris sings, about her father, that I often think of, when I think of integrity. It’s a song about a man who served in the Air Force, and I am a Quaker. But the second verse is one of my favorite expression of what integrity means. So here is: Bang the Drum Slowly.

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What I saw of the far-right hecklers at the Katie Porter town hall

Posted by Sappho on July 13th, 2021 filed in Daily Life, Democracy, News and Commentary


It’s now two days after the town hall, and I woke up at 4:30am because I’m still feeling agitated about Nick Taurus and his crew, and their brown shirt tactics at what we all expected – because our wonderful Representative Katie Porter did her best to make it so – would be a safe, family friendly event.

I hear that Nick Taurus has been playing the victim on Instagram, after the event. Can I say that he and his crowd, while at the event, were the most aggressive victims I have ever seen?

The “scuffle,” news outlets say, is one whose details remain obscure. They’re right. Those of us who could see the fighting were in the middle of a crowd. People moved across my view at some points. I wasn’t always facing the action. I can’t guarantee that a Porter supporter didn’t give the first shove. What I can speak to is the broader story of what was going on. I’m told that Taurus, afterward, took to Instagram to play the victim and say his group suffered at the hands of a violent Katie Porter supporters. The opposite was the case.

I arrived just ahead of a group bearing a Green New Deal banner.

“Green New Deal! Green New Deal!” they chanted.

“You’re corporate shills! Soros is paying you!” Nick Taurus’ crew shouted at them.

A Porter supporter, in a level voice, asked them to please be quiet.

“Why are you shutting us up? Why not silence them?” pointing at the Green New Deal folks.

“You’re shouting insults. They’re being peaceful,” still in a level voice.

“They’re not being peaceful! You should tell them to be quiet!”

And the Green New Deal folks were still chanting, simply, “Green New Deal!” You can love the Green New Deal, or you can think it’s the wrong approach to climate change – maybe you want less New Deal and more carbon tax and let the market sort it out. But either way, you have to admit, chanting “Green New Deal” is advocating a policy, while shouting “You’re corporate shills! Soros! Open Society Foundation!” is not. That insulting other constituents there to ask questions is less peaceful than being present at a town hall to ask your Representative for a specific policy. And the Green New Deal people played by the rules – they wrote their questions on cards, and they shut up so we could all hear Katie when the town hall started.

Not so Nick Taurus and crew. They shouted non-stop as the town hall started, clearly trying to take advantage of Katie Porter’s initial mic trouble to drown her out, so that we wouldn’t be able to hear a word she said.

What were they shouting? “Stop the Steal! Stop the Steal!” and “Corrupt Katie!” and “Biden cheated!” and “Why won’t you answer our questions!” That last was rich, given that, first, they had the same opportunity to write questions on cards as anyone (I was asked three times if I wanted to write a question on a card – that’s how careful Katie’s people were to make sure we all had that opportunity, not just asking in the check-in line but circulating in the crowd), second, most of their chants weren’t even questions (“Stop the Steal” is not a question – and not a remotely acceptable shout directed at a candidate who fairly won her election six months after Biden took office after fairly winning his), and finally, they were shouting to prevent anyone’s questions from being answered.

Some Porter supporters did, yes, engage with Taurus and crew. This is how that engagement went.

First, at one point we all shouted over them. When they booed Katie as she came out, those of us who liked her, who far outnumbered them, drowned their insults out with a cry of “Katie! Katie! Katie!”

Katie urged us not to respond to heckling, before she began. And most of us, most of the time, didn’t. But I’ll admit that some of us made one off shouts back. I myself, once, slipped, and, angry at a “Stop the Steal” chant, shouted at them, “Shut up with the Big Lie.” And remembered myself and stopped. After just that one sentence. This was before Katie made her “Don’t respond” request. I also heard one woman say, “Go back to Huntington Beach!” which was a reference to within Orange County stereotypes about which town draws white supremacist rallies. But she, too, shut up after that one crack. Nick Taurus and his supporters did not.

Mostly though, what folks were saying to Nick Taurus and crew was, “Shhh! Please be quiet so we can hear Katie.” So there was one side shouting insults and another saying “hush” to the disruption. With Taurus and crew then angrily responding to “Shhh!” as if we were the instigators.

The first physical contact that I saw was a man on the Porter side laying a hand on the shoulder of a man on the Taurus side. But just a hand on the shoulder. Not a punch. Not a shove. A “can I get your attention without shouting so I can ask you to calm down” touch. Maybe not wise. But not assault. And to this, the guy in the brown shirt brigade responded with, “Get your hands off me! Get your hands off me! Get your hands off me!” fiercely shouting in the guy’s face, as if he had actually been grabbed. If I did that every time in my life that a man placed a hand on my shoulder!

Then I lost sight of the interaction, and the next thing I saw was two men fighting. And I’ll be honest; I hadn’t seen which of them gave the first shove. Soon after that, two other men fighting crashed to my feet, the MAGA guy on top of the Democrat. I did not touch anyone, did nothing other than to say, “Please stop fighting! Please stop fighting!” But I could well have been among those punched, simply by the bad luck of being near the brown shirts at a public event.

One of Porter’s staff pulled me back to safety, and I did my best to take photos (should have gotten video, I know), not getting the shots I wanted. It was all I could do.

But what I can say is, throughout all the confrontations, both when the fighting broke out and later when it was just arguments, most of the Porter friendly crowd, who far outnumbered the hecklers with their brown shirt tactics, were either trying to keep out of the way, or, if moving into MAGA zone, were doing so mainly to try to get people to safety.

If a Porter supporter appeared ready to confront one of Taurus’ crew, other Porter supporters would be at hand to say, “Walk away, it’s not worth it.” No one on the Taurus side would be saying one word along those lines to others on the Taurus side. Not once did I see Taurus try to calm anyone down, deescalate any argument, or make any move to make safer the situation that he and his crew had made more tense and dangerous. And I was near his sector for most of the town hall.

It was Taurus and his group instigating the whole while, while Porter supporters were trying to remind each other not to take the bait. And the Taurus crew, as they persisted in their aggressive claims of victimhood, took care to include people who were simply trying to stop confrontations and extricate their friends among those they accused of aggressively invading their space.

And it was Porter’s people who pulled me to safety to get me out of the way of the punches, and Nick Taurus who instigated the violence that put me, a 60-year-old woman there to be civically engaged as is my right, at risk.

Hell will freeze over before I ever vote for Nick Taurus even for dog catcher.

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Ashli Babbitt and Diana Oughton

Posted by Sappho on June 23rd, 2021 filed in Books, Memory, News and Commentary


When I was a child, I read a book called Diana: The Making of a Terrorist. The book, at the time I read it, was newly released, and the events it recorded were still fresh in people’s memories. The book, as I recall, had a photo of a younger, not yet terrorist Diana Oughton on the front cover, a hint of flame at the edge of the photo. On the back you saw a photo of Diana as she was when she died, and that photo appeared engulfed in flame.

I thought of that book as I read the CNN article about Ashli Babbitt, including interviews with her family about her life before she got sucked into a conspiracy theory rabbit hole.

Ashli Babbitt grew up a tomboy, jumping bikes over ramps and skateboarding with her brothers. Diana Oughton played the piano and flute as a child, and shot pheasants with her father. Ashli Babbitt was an Air Force veteran. Diana Oughton went to Guatemala after graduating from Bryn Mawr, and taught indigenous people to read. Bagpipes played “Amazing Grace” at the funeral that Ashli Babbitt’s family held for her. Children whom Diana Oughton had taught pinned their fundraising buttons to a bouquet at the site of her death.

It’s not that I can take violent extremists’ profession of idealistic motivations at face value. Sometimes, whatever leads someone down the path of political violence has also shown itself in personal violence. Example: Ryan Samsel, accused of beating a cop unconscious on January 6. It turns out that this is not the first time he was arrested for beating a woman.

But violent extremists can also have ordinary pasts. So I’m not surprised that Ashli Babbitt, like Diana Oughton, has people who remember her less fanatical days. Oughton’s parents said, after she died in 1970, that as recently as 1968 she had been a committed activist who rejected violence. That was before she joined the Weather Underground, the group of would be Marxist-Leninist revolutionaries who would provoke the Black Panthers to disavow their support, after seeing the Weather Underground’s Days of Rage.

Diana Oughton died in a townhouse in Greenwich Village, when a bomb she was making exploded prematurely, wrecking the townhouse and killing her and two of her fellow terrorists. Members of the Weather Underground would later say that their bombs only destroyed property – reportedly, Diana Oughton had argued, on her final day, to keep to that policy. But the deadly toll of the bomb that killed her shows that if the Weather Underground had failed to kill anyone with their bombs, it would only have been moral good luck. Sad though her death might be, Oughton was no peaceful martyr.

Ashli Babbitt rushed to her appointment in Samara as part of an insurrectionary mob. To get to her death, she had to push her way past police barriers around the Capitol, push her way into the building, and join a mob battering their way through a barricaded entrance that would take them to where Congressional representatives were sheltering.

Along the way, members of the Capitol Hill insurrectionist mob clobbered cops with flagpoles and lead pipes. One cop would suffer two strokes after being attacked with a chemical spray. 150 cops would suffer injuries, some severe, including concussions and broken ribs. At the beginning of June, five months after the Capitol riot, seventeen cops remained out of work due to injuries suffered on that day.

Cops and Secret Service shouted at Ashli Babbitt to stop; she continued to climb through the window that another rioter had broken. She was shot and killed – unarmed, but no peaceful martyr.

It’s worth studying the Oughton and the Babbitt who were not yet martyrs, the moments of their lives that were better than their last moments – we want to know how people are radicalized so that we can know if and how to break the cycle. And it’s only human that those who knew them when mourn them. But make no mistake – neither woman’s last act should be admired.

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Seven things that I believe about human nature

Posted by Sappho on June 19th, 2021 filed in News and Commentary


1) Lots of people are better than me. I don’t mean that in an “I’m awful” sense, and I don’t mean to pretend I’m especially humble. I mean, simply, that I know I’m more clever than good, and that for any virtue that I really admire, whether gentleness or courage or humility, I can find people who are better examples of that virtue than I am. So it’s worth finding those people and listening to them.

2) No, we aren’t all doing our best. Partly because any view I have of human nature has to include Hitler, who was clearly not doing his best, and who was also a human being. And also, even those of us who are nowhere near as bad as Hitler are, at least some of the time, not doing our best.

3) At the same time, often people whom you may think aren’t doing nearly their best *are*, in fact, doing the best they can in their circumstances, which aren’t yours. We’re all subject to the Fundamental Attribution Error.

4) Most people aren’t all that selfish, at least where their close kin and friends and immediate community are concerned. People like to share and to help other people.

5) People are groupish, and can find it hard to respect people outside their group as much as those inside their group. And easy to use their minds to find ways that their group is right, rather than to correct their own perceptions where they are wrong. This is a tendency we need to learn to check sometimes.

6) Most people, myself included, are sometimes cowardly – it’s one of the ways our ancestors survived.

7) We can change – some things more easily than others – but the way to change isn’t trying to change through sheer willpower, but finding out what your best cues and triggers are, and finding allies who will support you in your changes. Whether you see the glass as half empty or half full, the glass is refillable.

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On memories of the terror that was GamerGate, the current threat of fascism, and a backhanded defense of Cathy Young

Posted by Sappho on May 30th, 2021 filed in News and Commentary


Gamergate is what happened when the reactionary rejects of 4chan teamed up to be the personal army of an abuser and attack women who make and write about video games with a molecule-thin veneer of being a consumer movement for “free speech” and “ethics in video game journalism”. These are their stories.

https://rationalwiki.org/wiki/Timeline_of_Gamergate

Nearly seven years ago, in August 2014, Eron Gjoni’s post accusing game developer Zoe Quinn of infidelity got picked up by 4chan. The rest is history. It’s a history for which some will never forgive Cathy Young.

My own views of Cathy Young’s role in GamerGate are more nuanced, but I was reminded of that horror show last week, when my Twitter feed was suddenly filled with tweets regarding someone’s plan to have a podcast debate with Young about wokeness. Why are you mad at me, the podcaster was arguing. I’m on your side. I’m team woke.

Now, half of the “don’t run this podcast” argument was a half to which I could relate. I don’t think a “team woke”/”team anti-woke” podcast debate between Cathy Young and some random “team woke” guy is likely to be all that edifying. I’ll give it a pass. In fact, I’m not sure that any “team woke”/”team anti-woke” podcast debate is going to be a useful framing of the issues. But in the midst of the tweets, one of the critics managed: a) to call Cathy Young a fascist, b) to argue that punching Richard Spencer did more than anything to stop him, because c) the punk rock scene in the 90s proved that the only way to beat Nazis is to punch them. At which point I thought – wait a second there! You’re implying that Cathy Young should be, not just deplatformed, but punched. Cathy Young is not a fascist, and I don’t want her punched.

Somebody Is Wrong On the Internet. In this case, it’s a smalltime Twitter pseudonym about whom I know nothing. So why do I care? Because, though I don’t think Cathy Young is a fascist, the threat of fascism is now real, and there are paradox of tolerance issues raised by actual fascists, whether of the still not mainstream Richard Spencer variety, or of the sadly now approaching mainstream Big Lie Capitol insurrection honoring variety. There are lines that I want drawn against the Richard Spencers of this world, that exceed the lines that I want drawn for the Cathy Youngs of this world.

But let me first look back on GamerGate. I won’t try a timeline; others have done a better job than I can on that. I’ll just talk about what it was like to live through GamerGate as a woman in IT. A while back, Razib Khan tweeted something to the effect that, though he disagreed with some things on the right, he knew which side would be likely to string him up (in his case, the left). And it stuck in my mind, because it expressed so much my own feelings, but in the opposite direction. And GamerGate is the reason why. Not why I think violence and extremism on the right is currently a bigger danger than the same on the left, in the US – that’s a matter of tallying up incidents, like the Atomwaffen killing in my neighborhood, the shootings at the Tree of Life and Poway synagogues, the bomb packages sent to Soros et al, the attempt to kidnap the governor of Michigan, the assault on the Capitol. And I hope I’d be conscious of the threat even if I’d never felt under the gun myself. But GamerGate was when I saw the mob coming, specifically, for people like me. Other times, often really, Razib Khan has said that people in general are cowards. And in some ways I agree – isn’t that the lesson of the Milgram experiment? But GamerGate was when I was a coward, when I encountered something that scared me too much for me to dare type the name in public.

Read the rest of this entry »

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And should I not have pity on Nineveh

Posted by Sappho on April 18th, 2021 filed in Bible study, Memory, Theology


“Every year, he preaches the same sermon about Jonah,” Heidi confided in me, after the Yom Kippur service at Temple Beth-El. But the sermon that was old hat to Heidi was brand new to me.

There’s an old trope among Christians, where Christianity is the faith of mercy, and Judaism the faith of harsh justice. You can hear that trope in Portia’s speech, in The Merchant of Venice, as she explains to Shylock, the most sympathetic of Shakespeare’s villains, but still a villain, that “the quality of mercy is not strained.” You can hear it among modern, liberal Christians, Christians who never think what they are saying about Judaism, when they accuse more fundamentalist Christians of preferring the Old Testament God to the more merciful New Testament God.

It’s ironic, then, that it was not at any Christian church, but at Temple Beth-El, that I learned that the book of Jonah is a story of God’s mercy and forgiveness.

It’s not that St. Mark’s worshiped an unforgiving God. Certainly I heard enough about forgiveness, at one time or another, at St. Mark’s. But not from the book of Jonah. The book of Jonah that I knew was the one described in the Porgy and Bess song, “It Ain’t Necessarily So.”

Jonah he lived in a whale

He made his home in that fishes abdomen

Jonah he lived in a whale

What Jonah did when he got out of that whale, I had somehow failed to learn. And yet, what Jonah did when he got out of the whale is, it turns out, the whole point of the book of Jonah. Jonah was running from God, and wound up in his fishy predicament, because he didn’t want to preach to Nineveh and have them repent. He didn’t want God to take pity on Nineveh. Picture Jonah on Twitter, cutting off his nose to spite his face, as long as he can own the people of Nineveh. It was God who had to tell Jonah, “and should not I have pity on Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than six score thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand, and also much cattle?”

The collection that Christians call the Old Testament, and Jews the Tanakh, is a more complex collection than stories of New Testament mercy make it out to be.

And so I sat, in Temple Beth-El, on Yom Kippur, having fasted all day in sympathy with Heidi, and got a lesson about mercy.

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And His Banner Over Me Was Love

Posted by Sappho on April 3rd, 2021 filed in Memory, Worship


“Where There Is No Vision the People Perish”: The sign hung over the door where we exited the nave of St. Mark’s church on our way to Sunday school or to the parish hall where refreshments were served. The words haunted my childhood. What was vision? How could I have it? How could I lack it?

Simpler, to a child’s eye, were the words over the altar: “And His Banner Over Me Was Love.” God was love and that was all there was to it.

On the way to the altar, you passed, on your right, the baptismal font, with a statue of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus. Then you went through a carved wooden arch, with Jesus on the cross its centerpiece. Then the choir, to your right and to your left, and then the altar rail, where you knelt. There, if you were a small child, the priest would bless you, making the sign of the cross. There, if you were older, you would hold out your hands to receive the Host.

I was, by instinct, a High Church child. If the priest said that I was receiving the Body and Blood of Christ, then in some mysterious way I was. If some bent the knee when passing the little altar to the left of the communion rail (the Episcopalian half genuflection where you slightly bend the knee, not the Roman Catholic version where you bring a full knee to the ground) and others did not, I would bend the knee.

The little altar to the left wasn’t to be confused with the altar where the priest laid out and blessed the bread and wine. It stood just past the organ, which was also to the left of the Communion rail, where we often lingered after the service to hear the closing music, before making our way to the parish hall. Why I curtsied when I passed this particular small altar, I had no idea. But I wasn’t about to omit any ritual. Not in that church grand with stained glass windows and statues and the rich strains of organ music.

That ritual satisfied, we made our way to the parish hall, where my focus shifted to how many sugar cubes I could grab from the adult refreshment table, where the bowls of cubes sat ready to flavor bitter coffee. My mother drank her coffee black, without sugar. I liked my sugar plain, without coffee, thank you very much.

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Vaccine, Vaccine, Vaccine, Vaccine!

Posted by Sappho on February 28th, 2021 filed in Daily Life, Vaccinations


There has been a lot of talk about all of the things we still shouldn’t do, once we get that jab. And there are reasons for these cautions.

First, we don’t know how far the immunity conferred by the vaccination (which was measured in the Phase 3 trials) translates into preventing us from transmitting the virus to others. It would be extremely surprising if people vaccinated against COVID weren’t also less likely to transmit the virus – their viral load, even if they do carry the virus, has to be much lower. But, remember the articles about how the single shot Johnson and Johnson vaccine (which just yesterday received its emergency use authorization) provides 66% protection against symptomatic COVID, but 85% protection against being hospitalized for COVID (and so far 100% protection against dying of COVID)? It’s possible that, for all of the vaccines, X% effective against getting COVID is less than X% effective against carrying COVID.

And that might not matter much, if a large majority of people are vaccinated, because less than X% effective still adds up in a crowd where most people have gotten the vaccine. But while vaccinated people are few and COVID numbers are high, perhaps the odds of transmitting the illness aren’t negligible enough that you can throw caution to the winds.

Second, it’s not really feasible at this time to make distinctions between the minority who are vaccinated and the large majority who aren’t in public places like grocery stores. So the rule has to be, everyone wear a mask, because most people could be carrying COVID.

Still, with all this caution, here are the things that I look forward to doing, once my husband and I have both been vaccinated (in my case, this may either mean that I find out, when unblinded, that I really did get the Johnson & Johnson vaccine in the trial, or it may mean that, after being unblinded and finding out that I got the placebo, I get vaccinated):

I will get my hair cut.

I will make an appointment with the dentist (I know, not fun in itself, but it will be good to get a permanent crown to replace the temporary one that I’ve been trying to live with for the past year).

I will no longer wear a mask when outdoors and walking uphill. I realize I’m one of the few people who does this, but with a high risk husband I have felt obliged. No more!

I will go and visit friends who are also vaccinated, and feel free to take my mask off in their houses.

I’ll go to the store (still masked) to buy things that aren’t absolutely essential. New hiking boots!

Most of all, once I and my husband and my mother are all fully vaccinated, I can take that long postponed trip to Maine (masked on the way, of course) to see my mother. I’m looking forward to it.

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Reflections on Violence

Posted by Sappho on February 15th, 2021 filed in Peace Testimony


“We utterly deny all outward wars and strife and fightings with outward weapons, for any end, or under any pretence whatsoever; and this is our testimony to the whole world. The spirit of Christ, by which we are guided, is not changeable, so as once to command us from a thing as evil and again to move unto it; and we do certainly know, and so testify to the world, that the spirit of Christ, which leads us into all Truth, will never move us to fight and war against any man with outward weapons, neither for the kingdom of Christ, nor for the kingdoms of this world.”


Declaration of Friends to Charles II, 1660

Why write about violence at all, when I already have this wonderful peace testimony, which has stood for four centuries, for Friends?

I write because I find that I am frequently asked, when I comment on politics: Why are you raising your voice about this violence, but not about that violence?

The world is full of violence, of one kind or another. None of us can act upon all of it. And even if I have also protested the other incident named, maybe I raised my voice about this one ten times, and the other only once? Or maybe I was louder about this one than about that one?

So let me talk about some of the questions that, for me, determine when I am going to “hammer out danger, hammer out warning” and when I’m going to pass on speaking out, this time, because there’s only so much I can talk about and right now I have other things to do.

The first set of questions concern harm/gravity:

Is there any mechanism that assures me that there’s going to be accountability for the person who has done the bad deed? If so, maybe I can leave well enough alone and let that mechanism do its work. If not, or if I’m not sure that mechanism is actually going to be used, maybe it’s time for me to speak out. Obviously, I have less reason to speak out about even a gravely violent act, if it appears to have been committed by someone who was immediately arrested and is going to trial, than if we’re talking about violent acts committed by a group of people whom I fear may get off scot free without even an attempt to hold them accountable.

Is the harm likely to be ongoing? Are there, for example, a whole group of people organizing a particular type of violence, while others are downplaying the threat?

How directly harmful are the acts? There has been a lot of argument, since last year, about whether destruction of property is violence. Can we agree that attacks on people are worse than attacks on property, that some kinds of attacks on property reasonably put people in fear of their safety while others (e.g. pulling down Confederate statues) don’t, and that there are some circumstances where even speech may raise a predictable and immanent threat of inciting violence while there are other cases where speech, however fiery and insulting and offensive, doesn’t actually raise much immanent risk of inciting someone to cause harm?

The second set of questions concern mitigation:

Let me start with a quote from Shepherd Book in Firefly: “The Bible says nothing about kneecapping.” Book is a pacifist, within certain bounds – he won’t kill, but he will definitely use severe force short of killing. You may not share Book’s idea about where to draw the line. But if you don’t have some place where you draw the line, at what violence is acceptable, you scare me. So my first question, when I’m asking about mitigation, is whether we’re talking about an act that can really be mitigated much. Breaking windows is, yes, wrong, and no, not something I’m going to defend as a positive good. But it’s obviously a less harmful act than, say, planting bombs at the Boston Marathon, and I’m more likely to look at circumstances that might mitigate my judgment of the person who is breaking windows than I would for the person who is planting bombs.

Second, what’s your cause? My point isn’t that a good cause justifies absolutely anything that you might do for it – I’m committed to abjuring fighting with outward weapons, as Friends have done since the seventeenth century! But a bad cause justifies nothing that you might do for it. Obviously all of us judge more gently people who do sufficiently mildly bad things for a sufficiently good cause than people who do even those same relatively mild bad things for a bad cause. Even so mild a harm of graffiti, if it’s graffiti on behalf of doing harm, is wrong. Here, too, one needs to consider proportionality. Did someone insult you? That’s not mitigation for violence – we all learned when young to “use your words.” If someone’s endangering your life, well, I have more sympathy.

Third, what alternatives did you have? There has been a lot of fuss about pulling down statues – and I even have some sympathy, if we’re talking about crowds who are willy nilly pulling down random statues when they could have made their case for removal to a city council. I have far less sympathy, if the same people objecting to pulling down statues are in favor of state laws preventing cities from removing those statues, and of crowds coming into a city from elsewhere to protest a local decision to remove a statue (even had the crowds not been chanting “Jews will not replace us” and if no one had been run over). Conversely, if you’re defending someone who actually killed a human being, did that person have other options such as leaving the scene or not showing up with weapons to begin with? Or are you talking about someone who was truly jumped on without provocation and defending his or her life?

Finally, there are the considerations that reflect how particularly something is my business:

Am I sure I know what’s going on? If not, maybe I should be sure, before I speak.

How effectively can I respond? I may speak, even if I don’t expect to have an impact. But I’m allowed to speak more often about things where I expect my voice to count – that’s one reason that most of us, reasonably, raise our voices more when we see injustice in our own country than when we see similar injustice in some other country.

If I don’t do anything, who will? Related is Hillel’s famous saying, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” – I’m entitled to speak with particular force about things that threaten my own safety, or that of my family, or others who are dear to me. But I must remember the full saying:
“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And being only for myself, what am ‘I’? And if not now, when?”

Finally:

If I devote myself to other pursuits and contemplations, I must first see, at least, that I do not pursue them sitting upon another man’s shoulders.

Henry David Thoreau

Is an injustice being done on my behalf, to a degree that, by being silent, I’d be sitting on someone else’s shoulders?

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What Rough Beast

Posted by Sappho on January 31st, 2021 filed in News and Commentary, Quotes


The birth of Christianity is a versatile metaphor, one that can be drawn on to tell divergent stories.

There’s Cavafy, in Julian and the Antiochans, giving us the point of view of Christians reluctant to accept Emperor Julian’s return to paganism, for reasons that flip our expectations of Christians and pagans:

How could they ever give up
their beautiful way of life, the range
of their daily pleasures, their brilliant theatre
which consummated a union between Art
and the erotic proclivities of the flesh?

There’s Yeats, in The Second Coming, a poem whose mood is rooted not only in the Irish War of Independence, but also in the aftermath of World War I and of the 1918-1919 flu pandemic:

The darkness drops again; but now I know   
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

And, just this week, there’s Kerry Howley, reflecting on the “bright rise of belief” in QAnon and the “unrestrained joy” of the assault on the Capitol:

By springtime, half a million Americans will be dead. It doesn’t matter whether the prophecy is right or the prophecy is wrong. In the negative space around the bright rise of belief, the rest of us argue using words that no longer work. Do you even know how to frame the question? Surrounding the birth of every new theology, forgotten or ridiculed, are the people who watched their neighbors come apart from the world. Dark to Light. We are the dark. It’s stifling in here, and full of fear.

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A Quote from Martin Buber’s _I And Thou_

Posted by Sappho on January 14th, 2021 filed in Books, Quotes


I know nothing of a ‘world’ and a ‘life in the world’ that might separate a man from God. What is thus described is actually life with an alienated world of It, which experiences and uses. He who truly goes out to meet the world goes out also to God. Concentration and outgoing are necessary, both in truth, at once the one and the other, which is the One.

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A quote from G K Chesterton on democracy

Posted by Sappho on January 3rd, 2021 filed in Uncategorized


“This is the first principle of democracy: that the essential things in men are the things they hold in common, not the things they hold separately. And the second principle is merely this: that the political instinct or desire is one of these things which they hold in common. Falling in love is more poetical than dropping into poetry. The democratic contention is that government (helping to rule the tribe) is a thing like falling in love, and not a thing like dropping into poetry. It is not something analogous to playing the church organ, painting on vellum, discovering the North Pole (that insidious habit), looping the loop, being Astronomer Royal, and so on. For these things we do not wish a man to do at all unless he does them well. It is, on the contrary, a thing analogous to writing one’s own love-letters or blowing one’s own nose. These things we want a man to do for himself, even if he does them badly.”


G. K. Chesteron, Orthodoxy

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Land of the Pilgrim’s Pride: On Genealogy, Truth, Mistakes, and Legend

Posted by Sappho on November 27th, 2020 filed in Genealogy


I think of Thanksgiving as a general purpose harvest festival of gratitude, and ignore the part of the holiday that’s tied to stories of Pilgrims, Wampanoag, and the First Thanksgiving. True, I remember the Pilgrim Thanksgiving story from grade school, and I’m also aware, from my adult life, that many Native Americans see the story differently. But that story has never had much place in my lived celebrations.

What genealogy sites have to offer on holidays, though, is lineage, and on this Thanksgiving, on this 400 year anniversary of the Mayflower voyage, genealogy sites have a lot of Mayflower information to offer.

Sorting out real and imagined ancestors, though, can be tricky. So let’s look at a few of the ancestors that I may find, depending on which tree I consult, who might have been present at the legendary First Thanksgiving.

Iyannough is a real historical figure:

  • sachem of the Mattakeese, a sub-group of the Wampanoag people.
  • received the Pilgrims with courtesy.
  • assisted William Bradford and his party in finding the son of John Billington, who had wandered away from Plymouth in January 1621.
  • died in 1623, when only in his mid-twenties, hiding in a swamp from the colonists, after a surprise attack by the Pilgrims on the Massachusett tribe caused many in the region to be fearful of the colonists.

My descent from Iyannough, though, proved legendary. When I first learned of Mary Little Dove, the supposed granddaughter of Iyannough, wife of Austin Bearse, and ancestor of the Merchant family that moved from Barnstable to Washington County, New York, from which I am descended, I thought the details of her story fanciful, but still possibly a white person’s imagined version of a real Wampanoag ancestor. After looking into the matter, I have concluded that I am not descended from any Mary Little Dove. Here’s why:

  • My family’s DNA segments that are identified by 23andMe as Native American triangulate with DNA cousins who come from the Charlesvoix/Saguenay du Lac region of Quebec, not with New England colonial DNA cousins from Massachusetts.
  • The Bearse DNA project on FamilyTreeDNA has not, so far, turned up evidence that Mary Bearse was Native American.
  • The general consensus on Wikitree is that the critiques of the Mary Little Dove story make the better case, and Mary Little Dove’s profile there is annotated as legendary, with notes not to link her to the actual Bearse family tree.

Richard Warren is also a real historical figure:

  • according to his Mayflower record, a merchant from London
  • came over initially without his family, who arrived later
  • one of the forty-one adult-male signatories to the Mayflower Compact

My descent from Richard Warren is: Lucy Brigham (wife of Jared Beckwith)->Lydia Howe->Lydia Church->Jonathan Church->Isaac Church->Caleb Church->Elizabeth Warren->Richard Warren. Or is it? Some Ancestry trees give the parents of Lydia Church as Jonathan Church and Thankful Bullard. Wikitree says Noah Church and Lydia Barnard. Noah Church is the son of David Church and Mary Howe. Jonathan Church is the son of Isaac Church and Mary Hutchins. Isaac Church is the son of Caleb Church, but David Church’s parents are unknown, and with good reason, as there turn out to be multiple David Church’s in the same colonial time period.

My notes about Lydia Church say, “Not sure about this ancestor: Other family trees on Ancestry.com have her simultaneously married both to Adonijah Howe and to Samuel Morse, both of whom are alive at the time. And I don’t really have any documentation for her beyond these contradictory family trees. May have to remove her and the rest of her family from my tree later, if she doesn’t pan out.”

It appears that our genealogy is not well established enough for us to know whether we are really descended from Mayflower passenger Richard Warren or not, and it would take time to look at the paper trail to judge whose genealogy is correct.

Finally, Giles Hopkins is a real historical figure:

  • son of Stephen Hopkins
  • arrived on the Mayflower as a teenager
  • father Stephen Hopkins was one of the 41 signatories of the Mayflower Compact
  • volunteered for service in the 1637 Pequot War but was not called
  • buried in Cove Burying Ground, Eastham

Giles Hopkins was the inspiration for this blog post, as I recently received an email identifying him as my Mayflower ancestor. My descent from Giles Hopkins is: Flora Minerva Hawley->Deborah Aurelia Warner->Benjamin Ruggles Warner->Mary Ruggles->Alice Merrick->Nathaniel Merrick->Abigail Hopkins->Giles Hopkins + Catherine Weldon. But does this genealogy hold up? Like the genealogy that connects me to Richard Warren, this tree has a weak link. In this case, it’s the link between Mary Ruggles and Alice Merrick. Different trees disagree on who was the mother of Mary Ruggles. Who’s right? I would need to go through the documentary evidence to know, and might even then find out that it’s unclear.

In some ways, Mayflower descent is the easiest seventeenth genealogy puzzle that you can imagine: Detailed records are preserved, from the moment the Mayflower arrived on our shores, of practically every settler in colonial New England. But even there, it’s possible to be mistaken, due to the existence of multiple people with the same name, and possible wishful thinking among people constructing trees. The case gets harder if you’re looking at, for example, Wampanoag ancestry, and don’t have a lived connection to the Wampanoag to keep family memory alive.

It’s possible that I had at least one ancestor in Plymouth in 1621. It’s also possible that I didn’t. I may never know which is the case. For now, I’m pursuing other ancestral brick walls, so let this post be simply a record of uncertainty.

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