What is Man?

By Bobby Neal Winters

I’ve been hearing about ChatGPT since early December.  Someone I know well who works in the university writing center was very upset about it and wrote to me about it.  I’d never heard of it.  

For those of you who are in that blessed state, ChatGPT is an AI (artificial intelligence). There is a web portal that leads to it. You can type in questions for it to answer.  You can ask it to write essays for you on any subject you want, in multiple styles, in multiple moods.

Yesterday, I asked it to write an essay on the invention of the maritime chronometer and its importance in navigation from the point of view of a midwestern high school student.  And it did. And it was good, but not so good that a bright, studious high schooler couldn’t have written it.

You can see why the folks in the university writing center are concerned.

Earlier this week, I listened to a talk by a local businessman/computer science teacher on ChatGPT.  He has a different, broader perspective.  In his talk to a group of us who were meeting in the city library, he described how it could be used as a tool.

You can ask it to write code for you, and it will.  Good code, mostly.  Sometimes it’s buggy, but sometimes humans write buggy code too.  I know this shocks you.

Eventually, ChatGPT will be available for about $50 a month for use as a tool.  In his opinion, it will be worth every penny.  

As the audience was composed of computer scientists, he told them that their world would change, but they wouldn’t necessarily be eliminated. The way they approached their work would have to change.  They would have to learn to tell ChatGPT what to write.  They would have to learn how to problem-solve, to organize

I went back to my office after the talk, and after I got access--everyone is trying it out now--I asked ChatGPT to write a computer program in the Python language to produce a list of prime numbers, and it did.  And I looked at it, and saw it was good.

In thinking about this since early December, I’ve looked inward.  I’ve gotten religious; I’ve gotten philosophical.

When Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, the first thing they learned was that they were naked.  They were exiled from Eden and an angel with a flaming sword was put there to keep them from ever returning.

Yep.  There is no going back.

Businesses will subscribe to this service to write code, to write advertising copy.  It will have fewer mistakes; it won’t call in sick; it won’t gossip with its co-workers and decrease productivity; it won’t gossip about its co-workers and cause drama; and it’s cheaper.

But here’s the kicker: If no one is working and no one is making money, then no one is going to be buying the goods and services.

Besides, the purpose of Man is not to make money. The purpose of Man is to take care of the Earth.  A necessary part of that task is taking care of Man.

We’ve gotten lost.  While Capitalism is undeniably successful, it is a tool that works for Man; Man is not a tool that works for Capitalism.  It’s like a tablesaw.  It’s incredibly useful, but if you don’t take care, it’ll take off some fingers for you.

We--as a people--need to set our eyes on the goal of increasing human flourishing rather than on increasing corporate profit.  The two are not mutually exclusive, but there are many potential conflicts between them. 

Having mentioned the tablesaw, a paragraph or so back, this gives me the opportunity to talk about woodworking.  You knew it was coming.

On YouTube, I watch the videos of a man named Steve Ramsey.  He has said more than once that you can buy furniture that is better and cheaper than handmade furniture.  So why make your own furniture?  Why do woodworking?

Because pieces of furniture made by hand are special because they were made by human beings.  Their very imperfections make them human. They tie us to a person.  In the end, connecting person to person is a big part of what life is about.

I would add that learning to do things makes us better people.  We are better able to take care of ourselves; we are better able to help take care of others.  We live better lives by virtue of knowing how to do things.

For Christmas, I made some presents for a few of my co-workers and family members.  As Steven Ramsey said, I could’ve bought presents better and cheaper that were made in a factory. I like to think these meant more.

I wrote this myself. I am sure there are grammar errors in it. But you know there is a human back here. You’ve seen me walking around town.  Maybe you’ve even spoken to me. If you haven’t, please do.

While there ain’t no goin’ back, we can choose how we go forward. (I used “their” instead of “there” but the computer corrected it.)

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like'' the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube. )

 Bubba: The Chicken or the Egg

By Bobby Neal Winters

It had been a while since I’d spoken with my old friend Bubba from back home.  You might remember him because he lives just on the other side of Wapanucka, down in that neck of the woods.  

I dialed his number and was reminded immediately why I hadn’t called him. When he answered the phone, it wasn’t with “Hello” or any standard answer. It was with a burst of conversation that might’ve been coming from a fire hose.

I have a stutter that I’ve come to cope with by speaking slowly with many long pauses.  It keeps me from stuttering, but the price for this is in talking with some people--the name Bubba comes to mind--I don’t get to speak much at all.

Anyway, after he picked up the phone, some interval of time was spent with him clearing the buffers, bringing me up-to-date with the goings-on at the local churches, the fortunes of the local ball teams, and the fates of mutual acquaintances.  Finally, he made a statement followed by a pause that was long enough for me to become a more active part of the conversation.

“I have an idea,” he said, “that will change the whole country for the better.”

And there he paused.  Instead of using that interval to say what I’d called him to say, I stupidly took the bait.

“Oh, what’s that?”

He leapt.

“Well, you know we’ve got three big problems in the country right now. One, marijuana is becoming legal in more and more places; two, we’ve got a bunch of sorry people sitting on their couches, watching the tube and smoking weed; three, the price of eggs is going through the roof.”

“Well, uh...” I tried to break in not not necessarily seeing eye to eye with him on these issues, but during the time it had taken me to speak my lone sentence, he’d miraculously replenished his body’s oxygen supply.  He tore through my attempt to speak like a reciprocating saw through scrap wood.

“The price of eggs is up because the bird flu got into a bunch of the factory chicken farms.  Those farms are crowded.  If one chicken is infected, they are all infected.  They are just nasty, nasty places. You wouldn’t treat the dog the way they treat those chickens.”

There, he paused a bit.  I could have broken in, but my mind got confused by not wanting to treat a dog the way you treat a chicken.  While I was still stuck there, he gathered his resources and moved on.

“The answer to that,” he said, “is to have smaller chicken farms like back in the day.  Didn’t your family raise chickens when you were growing up?”

Under the mistaken inference that he wanted a response, I began, “Well, yes, we raised, bant...”

“Everybody’s family around here did,” he cut me off. “There’s not all that much to it. It’s not rocket science.  You just need a little spot of land, some fencing, and a chicken house.  That’s about it.

“Well, that’s about what you need to grow marijuana as well. What I think they ought to do is say, fine, you can sit around watching the tube all day and smoke dope, but you are also going to have to raise chickens.  We will let you sell some weed to pay for necessities, but you are going to have to sell eggs too.

“This will at least get them off their backsides [Bubba never said the word backsides in his life, but the gentle reader can supply the appropriate noun] and breathing some outside air.  They’ll see how the sun and rain makes plants grow, and in taking care of the chickens, they might learn to care for somebody besides themselves.”

It was then that he paused with the expectation that I would reply.  How ironic that at that very moment I was struck speechless.  

“What do you think?” he asked into the silence.

I replied truthfully, “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s brilliant, ain’t it?” from the tone, it wasn’t a question.

“It’s something all right.”

“You bet, it’s something. It might just save the country.  Not so many sorry, pale people walking around, better eggs, not treating chickens like dogs any more.  I should run for president.”

With that, I shuddered, and took the pause to say, “Goodbye, Bubba.”

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like'' the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube. )

Jesus' Student Ratings

 Jesus’ student ratings

By Bobby Neal Winters

Every once in a while, a meme comes around regarding Jesus’ student ratings.  “The Algorithm” (blessed be its name) brings it around to me perhaps more often than it does you because It knows I am a teacher. This is something that I appreciate because it emphasizes that Jesus was a teacher too.

But it also highlights the fact that he may have very well gotten some--at least one--bad student rating from his disciples.  Those of us who read student ratings know they sometimes say more about the student than the teacher, but all of this being said, those of us who strive to be Jesus’ students might wish on occasion that he’d gone more into detail.

Jesus said to love your enemy.

“Jesus,” I might ask, “have you met some of my enemies?” (Read that with an ! after the first word, and it’s something I may have actually said out loud.)

But he said it.  We have a choice either to dismiss it as nonsense or to believe it and press it until we find the answer: How, how do I love my enemies?

The first objection to this teaching is to say that emotions are not something we can control.  We can’t just press a button and feel love.

If we cling to Jesus’ command, we might come to the conclusion that Love, as he was speaking of it, is not an emotion, it is something else, and having it for someone implies that we desire what is best for them.  We desire good things to happen to them.

If they are our enemies because they are vile people, we certainly wish they cease being vile people.  

We not only desire that good things happen for them, but we act so that good things happen for them.  We don’t respond to their vile behavior with vile behavior, but we model behavior as to how people should be treated.

Now, I have met some vile people.  And I know that what I’ve said can be really really hard.  There are some people so vile that we don’t want to spend any time around them.  In that case, we can still do something.  We can pray for them.

Praying is a good thing.  Praying can be done anywhere, any time: it can be done before, during, and after exams.  It can be done silently in the presence of other people.  It can be done alone.

And--this is very important--it can be done at a distance.  One need not be in the line-of-sight or even within earshot of someone to pray for them. It can be done at a distance. One can even pray for someone when there is an entire planet between you.

And they don’t even have to know you are doing it.  Indeed, it is better--if they are your enemy--that they don’t know it.  We are only human, and it is so easy to get the tone wrong when you say, “I am praying for you,” to an enemy.  You know that thing Jesus said about putting your pearls before swine?  Apply it here.

Pray for them.

Not only can it have an effect on them, it can have an effect on you.

You can begin to see that he is a child of God just as you are.  He is struggling to find his way, just as you are.  Just as a wounded animal slashes away at everyone, he does the same.

And before anyone gets the wrong impression, I’ve not yet got the perfect grip on this.  Loving your enemy is like cutting dovetails: You can try really hard and still get it wrong.  You deal with it using the spiritual equivalent of sandpaper and glue, whatever those are for you.  That might just be asking a friend to pray for you.

Being a great teacher, Jesus taught in more ways than just telling.  His life was a lesson.  While those who walked the earth with him got to see the example directly, we, in our age, are not as lucky.  We must use other means.

One way is to read the Gospels.  It is tried and true.

Another way is to look for Jesus in those who seek to follow Him.

This might very well be a terrifying and sobering thought for anyone who attempts to be a Christian.  I know that it terrifies me to put it in writing.

Because I am going to make mistakes.

That does not mean that I shouldn’t try.

Another meme I saw, “We didn’t do this because it was easy: We did this because we thought it would be easy.”

No, don’t think that.  Love your neighbor.  Love your enemy. Pray.

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like'' the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube. )

Life after 60

By Bobby Neal Winters

Death is an odd thing. Or, I should say, the knowledge of Death is an odd thing.  Death comes to all of us with mathematical certainty. I know that I am going to die. But the time of our demise is a mystery until it is a done thing. Even those who are known to be terminally ill will not know the moment of their death, but only a probable interval in which it will occur.

I turned 60 last year.

I’m feeling pretty good.  I am alert.  I still have my good mind.  While my energy isn’t as good as it was when I was 20, my thoughts are clearer and more grounded in reality.  That is to say, I am not nearly as stupid as I was then. I take better care of myself now than I did then. 

I have lost the sense of immortality that I had at that tender age.

I now *know* that one day I *will* die.

But...

But I also watch the news.  As I write this, Barbara Walters passed away a few days ago at the age of 93.  Benedict XVI passed away at the age of 95.  Queen Elizabeth and her husband both lived into their 90s. 

Clint Eastwood is still making movies at age 92.  He may be riding the High Plains in the sky by the time this hits print, but today he is still working.

Closer to home, I have friends who are in their 70s, 80s, and beyond who are still active. It is not unreasonable for me to be making plans for the next 10, 20, or even 30 years.  I begin to hear my old companion that poem by Tennyson in my head:

“Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;

Death closes all: but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.”

While I’ve not striven with Gods in the strictest sense, I’ve done my share of striving one way or the other.  Some of the folks I strove with thought they were Gods or knew as much.

Poetics aside, I am still productive and I still have an interval of time ahead of me in which I can be productive.   While I could have a stroke, be diagnosed with cancer, or even have a snowplow fall on me, it is not unreasonable to think that I have 10 productive years left. Given the examples above maybe more, though we all have our list of people who were taken from us before their time.

How to spend those years, eh?

There are numerous permutations to consider. I know retirees who wished they’d retired earlier; I know retirees who wish they’d stayed at work.  I know people working who I wish would retire; I know retired people I wish were still working.  (And there are those who have combined the two by retiring, but not letting anybody in HR know about it, but I best not put too fine a point on it.)

I’ve spent most of my life following the path of least resistance.  I’ve been blown like a leaf in the wind. In the spring, a thunderstorm can blow at a leaf and it will just flap in the gale, but in the autumn the gentlest breeze can take a leaf to the ground.

The leaf needs to become more intentional if it's not to spend the end of the year in a puddle of muddy slush in the street getting run over by snow plows going back and forth.

Just sayin’.

There have been times when I have been intentional. I remember vividly the day I walked over to ask the girl who later became my wife out on our first date.  I had to screw my courage to the sticking place.

I think that turned out well.

This leads to thinking about a couple of great Americans: Robert Frost and Yogi Berra.  Frost wrote his famous poem “The Road not Taken.”  In it, he says, 

“I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.”

This is interpreted by some to mean, the choice of road really didn’t make any difference.  

Yogi, no less poetically said, “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.”  Who could argue with that?  On my own, I interpret it to mean, to make a decision and own it. There ain’t no going back.

Whether you die at 27, 44, 60, or 95, life is too short to waste a minute of it.  Try to do something that makes you love every day.  Embrace life and the living of it.  And there is some living left to do even at 60.

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like'' the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube. )

 Happy New Year

By Bobby Winters

There is nothing particular about January 1 that it should be the start of a New Year. The solstice is more than a week before; Earth being at perihelion is a few days after.  January 1 is just a day on the calendar, but the decision was made to start the new year then.

So here we are.  The last digit of the year changes; we have our black-eyed peas; we start uttering “oh crap” when we write the wrong date on something.  I will get that right by November if past experience is a guide.  

But on this day, we started the New Year.  It is traditional to look forward and to look back.  Looking back is easier.  On the whole, it has been a good year.  I’ve had challenges; I’ve made mistakes.  Oh.My.Goodness. Have I ever made mistakes. 

But I’ve learned.  I am a stronger (almost typed ‘stranger’ there--that might be true too) person than I was.  I am a lighter person than I was, by about 80 pounds.  I’ve got more energy than I had.

I’ve learned a lot this year. I've got a good start on the craft of woodworking. I’ve turned my garage into a workshop. I’ve learned about wiring; I’ve learned to hang drywall; I’ve learned that I really don’t like to hang drywall on ceilings.  I really, really don’t like to hang drywall on ceilings.  God bless those who do.

I’ve stuck with learning languages on Duolingo. I started on Korean because of the work-related trip I took to South Korea. I’ve learned the Korean alphabet which is brilliant; I’ve learned to say “ant” and “crow”; and I am fairly sure I can break wind in Korean, but that’s about it. Korean is hard for English speakers, and I have to think that English is hard for Koreans too, so those Koreans who can speak it are pretty remarkable. 

Most of my family has been healthy this year.  I think we’ve all had COVID. I had a hernia repaired.  There have been some knee replacements among the extended family.  The biggest issue was with my brother’s infected foot.  We thought it was going to have to be amputated, but it wasn’t.

While it has come with struggle, work, and the help of his friends and family, he now has his diabetes under control and is following the example of Hezekiah.

The year that is coming is an unmarked piece of wood. There are possibilities, but no cuts have been made.  I can look at it and say what things might be, but I don’t know what it will be.  As Isak Dinesen said,“God made the world round so we would never be able to see too far down the road.”  

At this time last year, very little of what I said above existed even at the level of thought.  I was on a diet; I had lost some weight. I had started woodworking.  

That was it.

The seeds had been planted; the roots were growing; but nothing had broken ground, and certainly nothing had borne fruit.

I’ve been planting seeds all during this last year.  I’ve been planting seeds even when I didn’t know it, and even though I don’t know what kind of seeds they are.

You have too.

As we go forward, we will continue to plant seeds.  Whatever seeds they are, they will yield a better crop if we water them with love and fertilize them with kindness.

Do I have any resolutions for the New Year?

I’ve made some in the past, and those hardly ever made it beyond the first frost of January.  But I saw a meme on the internet that caught my attention.  It was a Susan Sontag quote, and while I can’t remember it exactly, I do remember the gist of it.  She didn’t have a New Year’s resolution.  She had a New Year’s prayer.  It was a prayer for courage.

That doesn’t seem like a bad idea.  I’m not sure you could go wrong with that.  Pray, not necessarily for courage, though courage isn’t a bad thing.  Pray.  Pray for courage; pray for wisdom; pray for patience; pray for whatever personal virtue you are short of.

Pray.

And have a happy, happy New Year.

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like'' the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube. )