Dear Humans,

When I get down, sometimes I think about the larger scale of things–the billions and billions of galaxies and the billions and billions of years–and think about how insignificant my troubles are over here on this tiny arm of the Milky Way.

But then I look at the people who share this dust mote of the universe with me, and I think about how they depend on me (and I on them). And things seem much more significant.

It’s true that in the grader scheme of things, our troubles are pretty minor. But we don’t live in the grander scheme of things. We live in the here and now. So what we do matters a whole lot. Even if it will be forgotten after we’re gone.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

It’s gonna be cold this weekend. After the sun goes down this evening, I don’t think we’ll see double digit temperatures until Tuesday morning. But don’t worry, humans are built for this.

Not our bodies, per se. We developed most of our biological features in tropical environments. That’s why we don’t have much fur. And really our body’s best response to cold temperatures is to shake itself (shivering) to maintain a stable core temperature. 

But our brains are an absolute wonder.  And we’ve used them to create cultures and technologies that allow us to live just about anywhere, no matter how cold. 

So stay indoors, bundle up by the fire or the radiator or the space heater, and thank your human ancestors.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Lately we’ve been reading a lot about nails. The final gold rivet in the Empire State Building, the Romans’ reliance on them, and Carl Sandburg singing the praises of those that hold up “skyscraper[s] through blue nights into white stars.”

Nails are everywhere. And though we take them for granted, they have completely changed how we live. A book I’m reading about the history of technology argues that nails were revolutionary for the simple reason that they allowed humans to first put different materials together.

Before, we’d make tools out of a single stone or boats out of a single log, but once we learned to put things together, the possibilities of creation–skyscrapers, spaceships, submarines–were endless.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

You know how our whiteboard doesn’t completely erase? So definitions of mixtures and solutions still appear when we’re learning about the themes in John Henry. And both of these things still hang around like ghosts while we’re practicing multiplication strategies?

Well that’s exactly how knowledge works. It’s all mushed together into one thing. Humans have spent much energy trying to put these things into specific subjects (so much so that we even call them disciplines) but our minds are just one big whiteboard and we write and erase on them over and over.

And that leads to connections. And we see that humans trying to figure things out looks similar no matter when or where it happened. And no matter what it’s called.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Have you noticed the black Colorado license plates on the road? If you haven’t, start looking for them. You’ll find them everywhere.

A recent newspaper article said the black license plates are much more popular than the state thought they’d be. People seem to really want them. Why? I think it’s because people love to stand out. Even when it comes to something standardized like licensing our motor vehicles, people want to do it in their own personal way.

Because that’s what people do–live with pizzazz. You can see it from the beginning of time, like the handprints on those caves in Argentina. Even thousands of years ago, people had the urge to scream out, “I’m here!”

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

New year, new you. If only it were that simple. People can change. And we can all do a little better–keep our desks a little cleaner, turn in our homework a little more often, read more books. But we can’t ever escape that old us. They keep hanging around.

Which is a good thing. Because think of all we’ve gathered throughout our lives–good habits (and bad), good friends (and maybe some enemies), knowledge and experiences and advice. Who’d want to get rid of all of that?

The only way we can ever hope to change ourselves for the better is to tap into all that stuff that old us has gathered in the past. New us can only ever come out of the old us.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

The other day we were learning about another explorer’s search for the Northwest Passage and one of you asked the best question that a historian can ask: “How do we know what happened in the past?”

And the best answer is that they wrote it down. Sometimes they wrote it in bits and pieces, and they often wrote it in a different language, sometimes one that has been lost to time. But history remembers those people who write things down.

There are other ways–oral traditions and archaeological findings and historical re-enactments–but the written word is our most reliable connection to the past. Just as it will connect us to the future.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

The Oxford English Dictionary just called “rizz” the word of the year. Short for “charisma,” it means one’s ability to attract or impress others. 

When I was growing up, we had a different word for it. And my parents had a different word for it. And my grandparents had their own word for it. Because, as the saying goes, every generation thinks they invented love and romance. 

And though all of these words describe roughly the same thing, there have been changes to courtship over the years. And we know that because our language reveals it. When things change–even slightly–the words we use for it change as well.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

When I’m folding laundry, the to-be folded pile is mountainous. Same with the pile of dirty dishes next to the sink. When I look at them, I just want to give up.

So I don’t. I reach over blindly for the next dirty dish or clean t-shirt, scrub it or fold it and triumphantly place it on the completed pile. And that’s where I focus instead: the strainer full of the dishes I’ve already washed or the neat stacks of already-folded laundry.

What’s to be done isn’t going anywhere. So there’s no reason to dwell on it. Rather, focus on what you’ve already accomplished and know that it will only continue to grow.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I’m a big fan of flags. I fly one outside of my house. I collect them. I love to look at them, learn about them, and think about them. And I think I like them because they’re kind of a problem.

They’re a problem because they try to use a few simple colors and symbols to represent a nation’s identity–something that people have been battling over since the country’s start and will continue to after it’s gone. Like all symbols, they mean different things to different people, and we can’t always put that meaning into words. We just feel it in our guts.

And that’s the kind of problem that doesn’t have a solution; it can only be lived with.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt