yekdeli's Open Salon Blog

Things I can't explain...a Spanish Lullaby...

Wed, 14 Jul 2010 22:07:22 -0400

Some years ago, my sister Kathy, finagled me into a road trip to see some relatives in Arkansas...this trip had an ulterior motive...she detoured us to Texas for a certain...personal connection there...say no more.

It was one of those sisterly trips that take on a life of it's own, on the road. Road food, cruising tunes, lots of "family legends" and hilarity. I got over my irritation about the detour because there really isn't anyone more amusing and goofy and good-hearted than my sister.

On the way back, our conversation took a contemplative turn. We spoke about our mother's death when we were children, and how we coped so differently. We spoke of our siblings and our lives at length.

And then the subject of the spirit, the soul, the hereafter and the surreal drifted into our conversation somewhere in New Mexico, on the way back home. This is the story she told as I remember it:

When she was 19, my sister was a bit of a hellcat. Not a "bad girl"...just drawn that way. A party animal, shall we say, but not ill intentioned, and very well liked by all and sundry. She was known for her gorgeous, long, thick, dark hair. We all had it...her's was just the most amazing for it's sheer volume. You never saw hair that thick outside of a horse's tail.

She was dark haired and blue eyed, and her best friend Debbie was her mirror twin...blonde and gorgeous. They were an imposing pair. They induced drooling in young men...I know...I often got asked, "She's your SISTER...?!)

So...one evening...a warm, late September night...fairly common in Northern Colorado...crisp, and harvest redolent...my sister, Debbie, and two young men took a half hour drive to Fort Collins from my home town to attend a party.

They drank...as 19 and 20-somethings will...and had a great time...one boy decided to stay behind.

As they got ready to leave, they decided to take a back road, through a small town called Severance...a place famous, or infamous for "Bruce's Bar...Home of World Famous Rocky Mountain Oysters". ( You know what they are boys...dont'cha? http://brucesbar123.com/history/)

But I digress...more to the point...they hoped to avoid the vigilant Colorado State Patrol that evening, which they did, to their demise.

As they passed Severance on the two lane road, the driver, a young man named Robert, drifted into the other lane, in front of a semi-trailer, hauling a pup and a load of tar...

That's the last thing my sister remembers before waking up...in the corn field...lying in the soft, cool plowed earth...the corn absconded by the quite recent harvest.

She rose to her feet and heard crying from near by...she walked...barefoot...now where did her shoes go?...to the sound of the weeping, and found her friend Debbie nearby. Sitting by the side of the road...hysterical...She remembers the feel of the cool, moist earth of the corn field on her bare feet.

Their friend was in the car...trapped by the steering wheel, dying. The truck driver in his truck...the truck was on its side...

Shocky...they don't know how much time passed. This was pre-cell phone...in the days when you had to depend on the nearby residents to call if there was such a remote accident...on a rural road. They wailed and pulled at the car, trying to get at their friend...get him out...

Kathy says it seemed a short time later that a woman walked over to her at the side of the road...sat by her...wrapped her arms around her and soothed her...singing in Spanish...a lullaby...She felt exquisite peace...a serenity quite out of place at the ghastly scene

A man...the woman's companion, stood with her friend Debbie.

After some time...it seemed quite a while...the paramedics and fire engine arrived from the volunteer fire department, along with police.

She asked again and again...the paramedic..."Where's that lady...I want that lady...!" And the paramedics were absolutely puzzled. "What lady?" they said...

She looked around and the woman was gone. There was no other car on the road. There was no house nearby.

She and Debbie were taken to the hospital...their friend Robert had died, despite their frantic efforts to...what? Free him...wail him out of the car? Cry him back to life? Monumentally sad.

Kathy had NO injuries, except for tar stuck to her back...where her halter top left her shoulders bare. Debbie had two broken wrists. That's it. Not another scratch.

They spoke about the side-of-the road-helpers...they went and looked at the car in the impound/junk/tow-yard. "It was so small", she said. "The place where I was sitting didn't exist any more. Nor the place where Deb had been."

They were thrown clear, with virtually NO injuries, from a head-on collision with a semi truck. The truck driver lived as well, lucky man.

She still remembers the song..."A La Nanita Nana"...it's Andalucian, not Mexican, though common throughout the Spanish speaking world... really a hymn to the baby Jesus, akin to "Away in a Manger"...it speaks of "mockingbirds singing" and "clear, sounding water fountains"...but the English translation speaks of "angels hovering".

Angels. She's convinced. As we drove through the Sangre de Cristo Mountains with the sky on fire at sunset...I too was convinced.

A voyeur of the soul ...or "Serenity NOW!!"

Mon, 12 Jul 2010 16:07:21 -0400

I come here too seldom to expect to be welcomed into the bosom of OS...but I admire and like many folks around here, and it is always a sort of lifeline to reality and perspective. A microcosm of the greater world, and a place to exercise that last bastion of the truly shy: voyeurism. Today...I am forcing myself to be the opposite...revelatory...advice seeking..."exhibitionist"...*blush*...

By the way...I think that word, voyeur, has gotten a bad rap in the evolutionary mill. I like this quote by William Gass, in which he reclaims much of it's original meaning, "to see"

The blue we bathe in is the blue we breathe. The blue we breathe, I fear, is what we want from life and find only in fiction. For the voyeur, fiction is what's called 'going all the way'.

--On Being Blue: a Philiosphical Inquiry p. 85

I'm SO with him on that "fiction" thing. That book's a "gas" really...you oughta read it! (..."ouch"...) I feel much more secure in the world of "make believe" sometimes. Or at least reading about someone else's problems to give myself that "there but for the grace of God" sort of perspective.

Anyway, I adore word origins. Derivations. Original meanings. Imagine my surprise when this word...voyeur...is linked, closely, companionably, with another favorite...wit. Wit is derived from the old English, witan...which is kin to Old High German...wizzan...and can trace itself, like voyeur, to the Latin videre and the Greek eidenai..."to see, to know" . And that's it...Bingo...that's what I want...to see and to know!

So, aside from sexual titillation, which I demur to comment on...a voyeur is "one who sees". One who observes. I am not a do-er, so much as a "see-er", I guess. Not so much a mover, as "one who is moved"...and I mean that emotionally as well as physically. Once I had a friend, when I was in crisis, say, not untruthfully...though it stung..."You don't have a life, your life has you!"

Even my Chinese and Western astrological signs speak to this...I am the Ox...dedicated, loyal and dare I say it...slow moving. I am Libra, the scales and the balance. I don't really BUDGE easily when I am in a "groove", shall we say...or if I do...I swing wildly back and forth when upset.

Seeing, knowing = favorite things...moving...especially when I don't wanna...very unpleasant.

So...all this pedantic pussyfooting around is leading in a vicious spiral to an unrelenting demand from the universe for that most damnable thing...a DECISION...from this voyeuristic ox...who SO likes balance, calm and serenity. As George's dad in Seinfeld had it...."Serenity NOW!"

I am making myself sick with this one folks...so...weigh in on it, here goes:

As any who have read my posts (rare as they are) you know that my husband lost his job at a government lab in Boulder in April of 2008. He found work in Central Illinois. I took a leave of absence from my teaching job...both the best and worst decision I could have made...more on that later...and we moved to where his new job was, where we have been fortunate to keep employment nigh these 2 years...thank the powers above and Lady Fortune.

We live in Tiny Town, (central) IL. (Or Ill..as it used to be known...and as it is making me!) Land of earwigs and sweat, home of the humid and bland. Sorry, Illinois natives...there are SO many things to recommend it. Friendly folks, corn, beautiful autumns, corn, cheap state taxes, corn....and very interesting, if unsavory state and local politics...not to mention...employment for the hubster. There are also 6 month, unrelentingly freezing, cloudy winters. Yes...Colorado is much milder, more snow, perhaps, but less ice, and many days of temperate climate midwinter. Really...Denver gets as many days of sunshine as San Diego!

Anyway, I got a part time job teaching English Language Learners at the Tiny Town school district, though I am, by training and credentials, a high school Social Studies teacher. I accepted because it seemed a pleasant job, and held a bit of challenge...my first time working with kindergarten to 5th grade for example. It just wasn't a "permanent" job...unless I wanted to change my emphasis and earn a credential in said field.

This spring, the district hired a young thing fresh from school, who posesses said "credential" and I am out of a job. I was hoping to parley my experience and "in-district" status into a Social Studies gig, but none materialized...my last hope fading as a high school Social Studies teacher retired...but was not replaced.

Let's add to the picture. This area is recessed like most. 12% unemployment. A closed high school in nearby, "River City"., which is the largest district in the area, and job cuts among remaining nearby schools, have jettisoned hundreds of teachers into the hiring pool, with minimal job availability. The state of Illinois is in arrears to most school districts to the tune of MILLIONS of missed payments, and all schools nearby have cut their budgets to the bone.

A fruitless search for any teaching jobs at the secondary level has turned up...nothing. I can be a substitute teacher for negligible pay, sporadic employment and no benefits, or...I can go back to Colorado to work...where my leave will expire next month.

If I stay in Illinois, chances of finding employment are bleak in the near future, though who knows what will happen eventually? Online education is growing, though there's nothing open now in that field...and perhaps this is the time to get that long awaited Master's degree...in...whatever will get me a job in education. Whatever's in high demand. Probably English as a Second Language. I can't do Special Ed., I just don't have the stomach for it (Praise and glory to all you Special Ed. teachers out there!) I can't teach Math because I am an idiot when it comes to numbers...really, and have intense math anxiety.

I majored in Zoology and minored in Chemistry for 2 1/2 years but have forgotten over 90% of the Chemistry...and Biology ALONE is not a likely "gig getter".

Soooo...I can return to my old job...except it isn't. My old job that is...it isn't my old job. They pulled the rug out from under me because it was easy to do while I was on leave. I taught World History and U.S. Government for 7 years. If I go back...they have assigned me, in addition to U.S. Goverment...Economics and Geography.

Geography is do-able. I taught it during my first six years of work. I'd have to dig, but I can handle it on the fly. Speaking of "fly"...as in "fly in the ointment"?...that's Economics. The fly to end all flies in the ointment of my teaching non-repertoire.

Remember my math anxiety? Know that I have taken only one entry level course in Macroeconomics...too long ago to mention. This assignment spells major anxiety folks. I will teach Seniors, who know everything and make sure YOU are aware that they know everything...and I will be so sure that I know nothing that I just may hand one of them the chalk (white board marker?) and say...ok...you're the teacher...I'ma go sit over there for a while...

And...I haven't reached the truly scary and sad part. The part that churns my stomach and kicks in the "fear" machine big time. I have to be apart from my husband to take up the job in Colorado.

My husband is one in a million. He spins my world. He helps me be a balanced ox. I love him. He has a lot of quirks, however. He's a Physicist folks...logical, analytical, sometimes shocked and awed by strong expressions of emotion...sometimes to the point of my thinking he's somewhere near Asperger's level. We are polar opposites in regard to verbal expressions of "how we feel". I'm a latin "emoter" and he's a scientist. I know, I know...some guys are just like that.

Suffice to say that he will not weigh in on this decision other than to tell me to "do what makes me happy". He says he doesn't want to live with me being "miserable" here in Illinois. He says "do what you want". When pressed about the decision...he says. "I don't know." The most I've gotten from him is an agreement that we wouldn't live apart for more than ONE year, at which time, either he has found a job in CO and we reunite there...or I come back to Illinois and give it a wholehearted go.

Of course, there is always a 3rd, 4th and 5th possibiltiy...his job could be cut...he could find a BETTER job in another state (Oregon? New York? Idaho? North Carolina? Who the heck knows where the jobs are in "Solid Materials Physics"?!) We could win the Powerball Lottery...er I guess not, since we don't buy tickets.

Finally, to understand my full motivation to even contemplate a year apart from the man it took me till my 40's to find...I have to add this: I have some school loan debt. It is our ONLY debt. He has none. I have none except this school loan. Really, no car loans, no mortgage, no credit card debt. (So take THAT...credit rating!) However, I let the interest escalate the balanceof this loan by about double when I was starting out in teaching, floundering financially. Really. Now in the scheme of school loan debt, this debt is not the worst. It's not "Doctor level debt". But...it's bigger than a breadbasket, let's just say.

When we married, I saddled hubby with an overpriced, overmortgaged home (sub prime...that's me all over...you can see why I'm not a prime candidate to teach Economics...HA!). He re-financed my foul 80/20 arrangment, and our loss, when we finally sold this home was reduced by his "move benefit package" when we came to Illinois. Suffice to say that my life has been very different, financially, since we married. I am above water in all ways but the school loan.

Why was I in such dire straits financially? Well that's another story...but it involves a previous, quite devious and bloodsucking relationship prior to my having met my husband...in other words, my ex-boyfriend took me to the cleaners! So sad...boohoo...do not pass go, do not collect $200!

So here's the dilemma. I feel I really owe it to my hubby to make a supreme effort to not leave him holding the bag once again for stuff that I made a miserable mess of BEFORE his tenure in this thing called my life. I want to pay this debt down. I want to pay it as far down as I possibly can, so that we can have a clean slate at mid-life, and not be weighed down by my previous life. I don't want to "take him to the cleaners" like my ex did me. Got it? Its a principle. A matter of honor.

He is a very responsible guy with money. Fiscally conservative. But definitely not ungenerous. He also says..."don't go if you don't want to go". He will take care of me. He will finance my move back to Colorado until I get my first check (teachers get paid monthly) if I want to go. He's got my back, in other words.

I've found a rather good living situation in CO. A friend of my sister has offered to let me live in her 3 bedroom house (I'd get two of the bedrooms to myself with an adjoining bath...plus share the common areas) ALL utilities paid for $500. She will also let me have my dog with me. Hubby says that if I DO go...I really need to take the dog with me, so I won't be lonely, and I agree...but it isn't easy to find good living spaces that will allow more than a tiny dog...my dog weighs 48 pounds...and many places say: "dogs under 30 pounds only", or charge up the yin yang.

Another benefit to the living space is that I do not have to move any furniture, household goods or kitchen items. My housemate has all of this already. Maybe a book case and some bins to put clothes in would be all I need. She's also away from the house a lot (one reason she wants a room mate...an occupant while she's away.) She's a very nice person. Most of the "shared living" arrangements I found advertised were expensive, shady, with college students (I'm just too old for that) or with some real desperados. I read an ad where a family of 4 wanted to rent their LIVING ROOM to someone. Seriously...there are lots of people who want to rent to you out of real desperation. I feel for them, but I don't know if I can be their personal bank...if you know what I mean?

This house is a bit of a commute...18 miles. I know all you big city types (Chicago, New York, L.A., Dallas...etc) think that is negligible, but factor in a Colorado winter and spring...with heavy snowfall...along with a 7:30 start time for school, and it gets a bit more "iffy". It's not the sort of job you can really be late for. In emergencies, either a colleague or your principal may sit in till you arrive...but trust me...that is NOT optimal and I'd be getting up VERY early to deter that possibility.

All in all...neither decision has a great deal to recommend it in some ways. Colorado: familiar, beloved place, employment, but no husband and odd living arrangment with nice acquaintance. Illinois: the comfort of my little "family of two" (or three if you count the dog...we do), a house of my own (rented...but lovely), but no employment and the stress and pressure that my "guilt" about hubby shouldering my debt burden and lack of income will bring.

It's weird folks...home is obviously about more than geography, and love about more than smooching and sex. I want to do right by this man who has added so much to my life. I don't want to pressure our marriage with undue burdens of debt. (The meta-voice in my mind says that I have much less debt than many Americans...but the angel on my shoulder says...be free of it...hunker down for a year and lift that weight)

I'm weirded out by being unemployed in Illinois and won't be eligible for any unemployment because, of course this unemployment would be "by choice (hardy har!) I'd need to really hustle to have any work around here as a teacher. I wonder how long my husband's patience will last when he has to pay that school loan...and know that I don't even have a job to show for all that damned education I paid for with it!

I know, ya'll, that I have some particular blessings. I have a fine partner in life, who, though he is not one to show me with words... demonstates his affection in tangible ways daily. We are not destitute. We are a well educated, two continent spanning family of two. We enjoy good health...knock wood...no alarm on the horizon there as far as we know. We have an extended family of Irish and American folks who are the salt of the earth. We have good friends.

So, what do you fine, wise and voyeuristic folks have to say? Especially you "long time marrieds". I'd love to hear what you folks in long relationships feel and think about the Finance vs. Heart axis that this decision is hung on. Advice?

I just need to calm my racing brain. I want resolution. I just need "serenity now"...

Teetcherlaydee addresses bullying...yes we do care...

Tue, 30 Mar 2010 18:03:01 -0400

I was heartbroken upon reading the recent account of the young Irish girl who hung herself to escape the intense bullying and harrassment she encountered in her first year at a U.S. high school. See Phoebe Prince's tragic story here: http://www.salon.com/life/teenagers/index.html?story=/mwt/feature/2010/03/30/phoebe_prince_cyberbullying

This dilemma...of violence and torture versus compassion and empathy is one that teachers face a great deal in our profession. I know that parents have a more personal stake. I'm not a parent, but not a disinterested, disengaged, ignorant bystander either. Allow my discourse, despite the fact that others may have a more "personal" stake.

Early in my career, the very first year, I encountered a young man who captured my heart, despite his ne'er do well attitude. He was a sweet prankster, and never a mean hearted word passed his lips. His actions were silly and light hearted...though somtimes tinged with a sort of underlying melancholy.

At 14, this young 9th grader, whom I'll call Eli, was in the struggle of his young life to come to terms with what it means to be a man. What it means to grow up, be proud of yourself and your family; invest in your own future; decide what matters most. He was a strangely somnambulent boy. Yet somehow his soulful eyes held a glimmer of mischief, of life...of soul.

He was in my class, and somehow decided I was his FAVORITE teacher. This "favorite" teacher thing...it sometimes happens even when you don't plan it. You don't cultivate favorites if you can help it. Yet they come...maybe having seen some piece of humanity in you that they are drawn to. Some piece that they connect with. You show an interest in their talk. You ask questions about their life and what they like to do when they are not in school. You laugh at their silly pranks-- Eli liked to come into my class before study hall and connect all the paper clips in my dispenser into one long chain...so that later, when I tried to quickly pull one out...they'd come out as one enormous rope of clips! He'd just smile...and then grab the container and begin to "fix it" for me.

He wasn't a great student, but was genuinely bright. It felt as if no one, ever had bothered to engage this young man as a real person. He spent a lot of his "spare time" just hanging, quietly in my classroom...catching me in my planning hour, or his own lunch.

He had a gentle smile and dark soulful eyes. He never raised his voice, but seemed to be a bit "lost" at times. I really liked him. He was so sweet.

In 10th grade, I no longer had him for class, but he continued to come to my classroom to visit and goof around occasionally...silly 15 year old conversations. He never let on anything much about home, stress or angst. He had an older brother, about 20, and a divorced mom, who had recently began dating a Mexican gentleman. She was gone a lot from their home, out having a life, I imagine. She was a young mom....mid to late thirties. That tells you how old she'd been when she had the 20 year old.

This was tiny town, rural Colorado. Our high school had a population of about 500, in grades 9 through 12. Lots of farm kids, lots of migrant worker's kids. A rural catch basin school with a great deal of farm land, a miniscule village of under 1000 residents, and lots of sugar beet and corn fields. It was easy for the kids to party. If parents went out of town...rural houses are far apart, and there is generally no one close enough to be disturbed by noise enough to call the County Sheriff.

Eli didn't know what he wanted from life. He resented his older brother...a much tougher guy, who had done some time in juvenile hall. He resented his mom, though he loved her deeply, probably because she was out at night a lot, with a new man. Worst of all...he resented the manager of the village convenience store and gas station...a grown up, adult man...who was making Eli's life a misery. This is a part of Eli's life that he did not share with me, his "favorite" teacher. Had I known...I could have acted. I kick myself....eat my heart out still (this was 13 years ago)...and wonder just..."if only...?" or "What if...?"

The man, I believe, had previously dated Eli's mom. He had a "bone to pick". He thought Eli's mom was a "slut"...and continually used this and worse terminology to describe her to Eli's face. Eli endured this. It was constant, and in his face. Terrible slurs, vocal, filthy goading. Eli endured.

I didn't know. I didn't see it. I wish, I wish, I wish I had found out sooner.

One late autumn night, Eli's brother held a party at their country house. Eli's mom had taken a vacation to Mexico with her boyfriend. The brother was in charge. The party drew a varied crowd, from Eli's 15 year old peers to the more hard men of 20 that made up his brother's "gang"...and they were a gang. There were drugs and alcohol at the party.

During the early evening, Eli had gone along with some other guys into the town and stopped to get snacks at the convenience store...the ONLY store in the town...so NO they couldn't have gone elsewhere. The manager...as usual, goaded and insulted and "took Eli down" verbally. Just verbally. I don't expect that Eli was silent either...I'm sure he used foul language and yelled back.

Eli was drinking; he had also had some drugs...probably coke, but maybe meth. He returned, later in the evening...around midnight...wacked out of his 15 year old mind. He returned with his brother's gun.

The manager of the convenience store did not know what hit him. Eli shot 4 rounds into his face, at pretty close range. He ran from the scene, but he wasn't a professional. The police retrieved his cell phone at the scene (yes...kids had cell phones, even 13 years ago)

Eli was picked up...taken to Juvie. He lingered there for a few months, while it was decided whether to try him as an adult. During this time, his girlfriend brought me what amounted to the saddest, most sorrowful letter I'd ever read.

Eli said: "You were my favorite teacher. I wish I had known you sooner. I wish I had known you when I was little. You helped me a lot. I don't want you to feel like this is your fault, because I know you will. It isn't anyone's fault but mine. I am freaked out. I know I'm never gonna get out of this place. He just wouldn't leave me alone..., you know?" But I was so torn...between revulsion for what he had done...I kept thinking about the poor dead store manager. Gone. How could Eli do it?

His lawyer wanted a character reference. I wrote what I knew. Eli was one I loved. Eli was one I lost. Eli was one I failed.

He's serving life, in Cañon City. That's the maximum security prison. He's 28, and may never see the outside.

This one shocked me. It lives inside me. I didn't see it coming. I wasn't prescient enough. I wasn't tuned in enough. He was just a gentle, quiet boy/man...trying to figure out how to be a grown up man. To his brother, this meant gangs, violence and crime. His father was out of the picture. There is no excusing Eli. But somewhere along the line, he needed to learn alternatives to violence. Alternatives to hate.

It scared me. Columbine scared me. I wonder how the public can think that it is so easy to see and find evil when it is a frisson, a current...a deep, dark element, in nearly all of us. Can we teach"empathy"? As a Social Studies teacher, it is my domain to think about sociological causes and deterrents to crime.

We don't necessarily need to use corporal punishment. I don't know if that is the answer today. How do we make kids "feel" for each other, and their fellow humans. How to short circuit the violence switch? At many a conference and teacher meeting I and my fellow teachers...largely History, Geography, Psychology, Economics, and Civics/Government types...have debated the "teaching of morality" vs. "the teaching of 'moral thinking'"

We are not allowed to impart religious teachings to our students, but we are allowed (in the state of Colorado REQUIRED to teach about religion and philosophy as influences in history...ie. comparitive religion and philosophical thought) this gives us a unique place and postition to address possibly the most important issue in any life. How to live an ethical, moral life.

There are some great and thoughtful programs that endeavor to do this through critical thinking exercises using moral dilemmas. One program is "Facing History and Ourselves." See: http://www.facinghistory.org/ There are many others. The public view that somewhow teachers are not thinking, paying attention or don't care about such things as behaving ethically is incorrect.

Research has been done about the use of Socratic discussions to engender critical thinking about moral issues. Here's one example: http://conference.nie.edu.sg/2007/paper/papers/AFE575.pdf

The key is for the teachers to NOT use this as a "lecture" opportunity. Finger pointing and scolding can have the opposite effect to that intended. The discussion and dilemma must be broad enough to encompass many views; captivating enough to catch the teen mind; "new" enough to not be overdone (sorry...the Holocaust is overdone, and kids get numb with it...and labor under the supposition that "Those Nazi's aren't like me...I could never be in that situation!")

I have found that this type of teaching, and NOT one day "diversity events" are the thing that works best in the classroom.

For a take on what works best as a "school-wide" effort...check out Challenge Day...the single most effective, moving one day, event dealing with bullying and engendering respect, good behavior and empathy among high school students that I have ever had the pleasure of participating in. http://www.challengeday.org/ Challenge Day even got the Oprah seal of approval...for what that's worth. It is a moving experience...and I wish Eli had had the chance to be a part of this.

We do care. I sometimes feel like Tolstoy's question is aimed directly at me..."What then must we do?" His answer? "Add your light to the sum of light."

I keep on trying. There's another post in me regarding this subject. I'll get on it soon. A more positive one...a success story. Stand by for that....it's a good one.

Ten transcendent reads, or at least they were to me!

Sat, 27 Mar 2010 20:03:18 -0400

I have not written in a very long while here, and this post is something I figure I can write about with conviction. I am so addicted to reading, that since I got my Kindle last fall, I carry it with me just about everywhere. Books are the most weighty item in any of my household moves, and I couldn't live without 10 library cards. Upon moving to Illinois, I got my library card before my driver's license, medical insurance or job. Go figure.

Here are some of the reads that have burrowed into my brain and remain my constant friends:

The Lord of the Rings: I know, I know. Anti-feminist; pseudo fascist (?) claptrap say its detractors, but I am transported by Tolkien's love of language and indeed, his inventions of worlds inhabited BY languages of his own making. His influences, from Beowulf to the Prose Edda of Finland are really deep and his intention; to create a national myth for Britain was a fine one. I do love this work. I re-read it every winter.

Prince of Tides: Pat Conroy is a "baroque" writer, who alas, has lately fallen into more rococco territory in trying to recreate this masterpiece for his lovelorn readers. "You just can't do it, Pat...lightning like this seems to strike only once for most writers." Tom Wingo and his fucked up family are so captivating, even when they are terrifying. All characters are well wrought, all situations and dialogue flow like the tidewaters Conroy depicts. A sorrowful book, and one without that requisite "happy ending", though a compromise of sorts comes at last. I HATE that the movie drawn from this novel so hideously misses the true heart of the story. Streisand's ego, I'd guess. Don't let it keep you from reading this one.

The Great War in Modern Memory (Pat Fussell) OR The Dark Valley: A Panorama of the Thirties ( Piers Brendon) : Take your pick. These are the two best "history" books I read in the past year. I am just finished with the fine work of Pat Fussell, whose book, though 35 years old, remains a cogent investigation of the societal and literary impact of the "great war". It is really a literary work, exploring war literature by the likes of Wilfred Owen; Siegfried Sasson and others, who, stunned into a new awareness, wrote with grave aplomb of their war experiences. Brendon's work, less read, captures the worldwide depression era and his captivating portraits of world leaders and society figures of the era makes it much lighter reading than one might think. He has a deft hand for anecdotes. I flew through its nearly 900 pages.

The Illiad and The Odyssey, Robert Fagles translations. I can't separate them...don't ask me to. The wrath of Achilles and the voyage of wily Odysseus are a matched set. Homer "wrote" gorgeous stuff. The Illiad contains the very earliest version of a literary trope that has now been done a thousand thousand times: Hector, tamer of horses, takes his leave of his wife, Andromache and son, Astyanax as he goes to his certain death in battle...he is wearing his bronze helmet, with its horse hair crest. He frightens his own son wearing this fierce helm...and must take it off to embrace them and say his farewell..the parents share a small laugh at the expense of their offspring and his timidity...then soothe him. It is not an allegory...the leave taking feels "real".

Likewise, the Odyssey, whom some might say is a lesser work...contains the love story of Odysseus and Penelope. The final cipher, by which Penelope ascertains the identity of the stranger purporting to be her husband, reveals much about the staunch nature of a weathered love. A tree...in the bedchamber, planted by Odysseus, has grown into the frame and head board of their bed. Only he would know the nature of their marriage bed. It also lets Odysseus know that his wife has been faithful. (Okay...so he hadn't...but Circe and Calliope were magical creatures, weren't they?) Read the Fagles for sheer readability. I know some more "literary" types or those familiar with ancient Greek, might quibble, but Fagles has done a masterful job.

Perma Red by Debra Magpie Earling. Poetic and disturbing, this is the author's first novel. A member of the confederated tribes of the Salish and Kootenai, she grew up in Montana, on the Flathead reservation. This book follows the life of Louise White Elk, who keeps running away from her mission school to return to her grandmother's house on the reservation. She is a force of nature, and the book doesn't "pretty up" her hard life, one of seductions, hardship and a fierce attachment to her Flathead ways, despite being half white. The charismatic, dangerous man/boy, Baptiste Yellow Knife, who adheres to traditional ways, and avoids all contact with whites draws Louise in a way she can't really understand. Tinged with magic realism, this book is haunting and needs more readers. Give it a go, you won't be sorry! (Of course, if you are looking for a little more comic relief on the rez, go for Sherman Alexie...he's phenomenal...I just think Earling needs the push more than Alexie)

My Traitor's Heart by Rian Malan. Not just any Afrikaaner, Rian Malan grew up in the family of one of the architects of apartheid. His great uncle, Daniel Malan had that distinction. Rian Malan left South Africa in 1977, largely to avoid the draft, saying, "I won't wield a weapon in defense of apartheid." So then, this draft-dodging liberal headed BACK to S.A. and decided to investigate not only his family's historic involvement in the horror of apartheid, but his own rather lily-livered fears of how a white man can live in a black South Africa. Haunting. I don't do it justice. (Read Kaffir Boy or Biko for a hard look at apartheid; and Country of my Skull for a view of post-apartheid, Truth and Reconciliation attempts.)

Possession by A.S. Byatt. Byatt is an acquired taste, I think. Like prosciutto and figs, she can be salty and luscious at the same time. This is my favorite of hers. She invents, wholesale, an entire literary world, and the author of said creations. So, she is an author, writing about a group of academics studying an (imaginary) author. She pulls it off with striking ease, and you don't even see the seams in the production. As a romantic, I adored this book. It is challenging, beautiful and rewarding, with touches of outright magic.

Ulysses. I finally read it this year, thanks to the influence of our own Padraig Colman, who made some helpful suggestions last Bloomsday. I feel like I am finally a member of the elite cadre of readers. Not only that...I really, really liked it. Ok, the HOSPITAL chapter took me forever to get past, but the rest was really quite easy to read. Chock full of anything and everything that is to do with Dublin, 1903, I loved the physical nature of the walk through town with Leopold and Stephen. I don't think Joyce REALLY hit the nail on the head when it comes to "how women think"...and apparently his own wife, Nora agreed with me, but, nonetheless, a wondrous and marvelous creation! I loved the scenes at the beach best...both Stephen's philosophical ramble and Bloom's lewd stroll.

The Sixteen Pleasures by Robert Hellenga. I had to include something a bit more "light" too. This is one of my favorite books of all time. A young book conservator travels to Florence on the heels of the 1967 flood of the Arno. An army of "mud angels" from all over the world really did descend on Florence in December of '67 to attempt to save innumerable art and literary treasures from sure ruin. Fighting mold, mildew and mud, Margo Harrington blunders into a mystery involving a pornograpic manuscript by Pietro Aretino, illustrated with lewd drawings. The book, sewn secretly between the covers of a prayer book, lies hidden in the library of the convent in which Margot is staying. In addition, the affair which she begins with an Italian official is much more real than most such literary romps. I think Hellenga captures the female voice and mind better than most any male author I've ever read. This is a sweet read, and if you like Italy, Florence, Art, Books or even PORN...give this a go!

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. I'm irritated by Rothfuss right now, because the sequel to this, the finest fantasy novel since Tolkien, has been expected for two years now, and he's still honing it to perfection. I love, love, love this book. I dunno even where to begin to describe it. Kvothe, the protagonist, is a musician of rare talent...but also a novice mage, who starts his life in a troop of nomadic performers. After experiencing the death of his parents in one of the most grippingly depicted and harrowing episodes I've read in fiction...Kvothe becomes a homeless, destitute wanderer, living by his wit and talent. He yearns to go to the School Of Magic. (I know....I think I have just described bits of Harry Potter; Oliver Twist and god knows what else...but trust me...Rothfuss is really, really good) The worldmaking he does here is intricate, well wrought and truly mind blowing. Please, Please read this book....he's so damn good.

Whew...Ok, so I cheated and included a couple of "choices" in some entries. I just coudn't decide. There are so many more books I could suggest. Remains of the Day; The English Patient; Born on the Fourth of July; American Blood (by John Nichols of Milagro Beanfield fame); Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee...I could go on forever!

Read on O.S.!

¡Cosas Favoritas!..Favorite Things

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 14:10:45 -0400

Alas for anyone who might have read my entire 5 post blog, it must seem I am the laziest of persons; and 'struth, I can't deny it when it comes to writing. I just have such a fully engaging life this autumn in the "meat world"!

So, here goes an easy one. Sharon, from "Life is Good"...has done an open call for "favorite things" and I just had to take the bait, so..,Do scan to the end of the post and turn on the musical accompaniment if you wish. And enjoy a bit of my favorite Art by Daniel Sprick. He is represented by Salon d'Arts in Boulder, and in my wildest dreams, I own one of his paintings.

Food: Enchiladas or molé poblano...enchiladas are my standby comfort food. With good frijolés on the side and a luscious, home made sauce, I can't resist. But molé is the food of the gods. This is how chocolate was meant to be eaten, with chilés! Chocolate originated in Mexico, you know, but then so did Vanilla, my favorite ice cream flavour. For those of you who did not know, vanilla means "little sheath" and is named for it's resemblence to another "sheath"...the vaina (archaic Spanish) for "vagina". So all of you who say that a "vanilla life" is boring are missing the essential sensuality of this most lovely of flavours.

Drink: I'm not much of an alcohol drinker, just don't have the constitution for it, but good Irish Whiskey is my very favorite. Jameson Signature or Limited Reserve, with just a splash of water to free the aroma, or (I know it is sacrilege) one single lump of ice. Drunk in a tall thin glass...NOT a shot glass, so that the "nose" is fully enjoyed. Slainté! My Irish hubby is partial to Powers himself, but I stick with the "Jemmy". I understand why they call it uisce bheatha, or "water of life", but too much of it can make you feel like death warmed over, so "drink in moderation."

Holiday: Christmas. I celebrate this season with a lot of contemplation. My favorite carols are the eldest ones, where joy is imbued with sadness. The obscure ones. "The Huron Carol"; "Don Oíche Úd I mBeithil"(That night in Bethlehem"), and most of all, "Down in Yon Forest"...perhaps the most syncretic blend of pagan "grail king" imagery and Catholic Christianity of all. It moves me at the bones. I'll link them at the end of the page, or at least one of them. Not that I don't enjoy me some "chestnuts roasting" or "silver bells"...but I love the really old stuff best. This is Saturnalia; Midwinter's Eve; Yule...the coming return of the sun at Solstice. The Roman bishops were crafty to place the birth of Jesus on such a bone deep feast day! Another favorite is "Tomorrow Will Be My Dancing Day". Good stuff, and a true remedy, along with mulled wine, to the dreary commercialism that Christ's Mass has become. Alleluia...

T.V. Show: Mad Men. The erotic pull of Don Draper and his secrets is really chilling. In the first season, when he was such a cipher, it drew from me an "oh my"...like that of Susan Sarandon in Bull Durham, when she realizes that maybe that "baby boy" she has chosen to warm her bed will be a pale substitute for "Crash Davis"... I love the period authenticity. I adore the characters. Even a bad episode has much to ponder. Great T.V. Second place goes to House. Hugh Laurie is phenomenal in this show.

Movie: Oh, dammit...there are really too many to name, but I'd have to say that among my favorites are Wings of Desire and The Lives of Others. These two German films are heartbreakingly well-made. I defend The Lives of Others against the cynics who say that it surely could not be that a Stasi agent could have such an enlightenment. If you haven't seen this film, it is about an East German couple under surveillance by the secret police. It is so compelling and well made. You should watch it. I wept.

On the lighter side, the aforementioned Bull Durham ranks among my favorites as well, as does Field of Dreams. Baseball is a metaphor for life. There are many others, and I will rue the entries here, as I think of them.

Flower: Iris or Hyacinth. Spring bulbs, gorgeous blooms, fragrance to die for. Come to think of it, I don't think I have ever met a flower I didn't love. Stargazer Lilies are lovely too, and multi-hued roses take my breath away. *sigh*

Fruit: Raspberries and Mangos, though both present challenges. Mango Lassi is a fine lovely drink, and raspberries ripe over ice cream are wonderful. I adore baked apples, there is something about the heat that brings out another dimension in this most popular fruit. I bake them a lot. There's no finer dessert!

Tree: Aspen...they are actually "joint organisms" or "clonal colonies" in which the root systems can live for thousands of years, sending up new shoots when the old trunks die off. Perhaps the oldest living organism on earth is a stand of Aspen in Utah called Pando, which means "I spread"...it's root system may be up to 80,000 years old. Besides, they remind me of home (Colorado). They are lovely to behold in autumn and their leaves dance in the wind and make their own lovely music.

Animal: Dogs are captivating. I love them. Cats too. I have loved horses all my life, and they are special animals indeed. As far as wild animals go, my totem is coyoté, his archetypal attributes are transformation, travel, high deeds and power. Transformation indeed. These guys show up whenever a change is in process or on the way. I find them beautiful, though others may say coyote is a thief or a scavenger, I say he adapts and overcomes.

Actress: I am taken with Emma Thompson. I so identify with her, for some reason. Kate Winslet is divine, and I have a really soft spot in my heart for Laura Dern. Another favorite movie of mine was her Rambling Rose, a moving Depression era depiction of a young woman of ill repute being "rescued" by a southern family of some means, as they employ her as a maid and nanny. The scenes with her and her own mother, Diane Ladd (both Oscar nominated for this film!) were so achingly beautiful. Kristen Scott Thomas has impressed me as of late, especially in the moving I've Loved You So Long, where she poignantly plays a woman released after years in prison for murder. Penelope Cruz and Salma Hayak are both incredibly creative and talented.

Actor: I love the intensity of Russell Crowe, from A Beautiful Mind to Gladiator, he has a lot of range. He's going to be Robin Hood next, directed by his pet director, Ridley Scott. I wonder if that will be good? I like Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig...both are talented, as well as eye candy. I love Liev Schrieber and Gary Sinise, quiet actors with lots of depth. John Malkovich is mesmerizing to watch as well. Daniel Day Lewis is perhaps the most intense actor of his generation, and I can't wait to see him in Nine, based on Fellini's 8 1/2...surrounded by some of the most luscious women in film. Whew...!

Artist: Velasquez; Vermeer; Frida Kahlo; Goya; Bernini; Filipo Lippi...as you can see...I stray almost always toward representational art. I even like Norman Rockwell and the somewhat "cheesy" sweep of a Bierstadt landscape. Remedios Varo, Chirico, Magritte and Dali all still draw me in, though surrealism is not "in vogue" at the moment. Favorite active artist right now: Daniel Sprick, a hyperrealist who bows at the altar of Vermeer. Check him out: http://www.danielsprick.com/index.html He is divine, and I'd give my eye teeth to own one of his works...though they are usually so large, I'd not have a proper place to show it. PLEASE CHECK HIM OUT!!

Music: Now this part of the post could take a month. The major criterion is, "does it touch my soul and does it HAVE soul?" I love "old timey" music. The Be Good Tanyas; Gregory Alan Isakov; Gillian Welch. I crave the Blues on a regular basis, and am especially taken with the music of one Chester Arthur Burnette, aka Howlin' Wolf, and also love Muddy Waters, B.B. King and a young and phenomenally talented artist called Corey Harris (who happens to be the little brother of a dear friend. http://www.myspace.com/coreyharrismusic

I play Irish traditional music (irish flute) and love jigs, reels and hornpipes. As for other things Irish, I love U2, and am not ashamed of the way their music still touches my soul and moves me. These guys, of an age with myself, just keep going strong. Saw them in Chicago this year, and was still blown away by their energy. Other lovely Irishers: Damien Rice; Bell XI; Danu; Dervish; Colm O'Donnell (my flute and voice idol)...do check these artists out, they're all so much better than the somewhat cringeworthy "Celtic Women"...errrrghgh!

I grew up playing classical/concert flute (Boehm flute for all you flautists out there)...and am so very grateful to my flute teacher Ms. Katherine Skinner, who educated me on all things classical, baroque, romantic and otherwise musical. I love: Telemann; Vivaldi and Schumann to play...I love Saint Sans; Debussy; (<----they hated each other) Satie; Rachmaninoff, Beethoven, Chopin; Brahms and Schubert to listen to.

I love Led Zeppelin; The Grateful Dead; CSNY; Creedence; Zappa; Joni Mitchell; Janis Joplin; Leonard Cohen; The Beatles; The Stones; British Invasion groups; Mersey Beat; Reggae (Peter Tosh is a god); Prog Rock (sorry...sheepish) Motown; Southern Rock ala Marshall Tucker/Doobies ("Can't You See? and"Black Water" anyone?) And am hooked on "Trip Hop". "Morcheeba" are still the greatest chillout pill ever.

Other, more "up to date" loves: "A Fine Frenzy"; "Bat for Lashes"; Beth Rowley; Jack White; "Sea Wolf"; "Great Big Sea"; Mark Knopfler and on and on and on!

You see the list... I can't live without music.

Books/Writers: Now I really run into a conundrum. Reading is like breathing to me. Hubby just gave me a Kindle, probably to see if it would help reduce the stack of books in the bedroom! I think the transformational book of my life remains The Lord of the Rings, despite the numerous critics and the lack of female characters...I love the book(s). My favorite recent "epic fantasy novel" is Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind, a stunningly well wrought debut. But that is the tip of the iceberg. Recently read and loved: Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee; The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker; The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry; A Mercy by Toni Morrison and War Dances by Sherman Alexie. Currently reading: A YA novel called Ballad by Maggie Stiegvater; This is Where I Leave You by Jonathon Tropper and Perma Red by Debra Magpie Earling. The Kindle has just certainly become a "pusher" of choice, but has not slowed down my paper book purchasing...I bought 3 books just this week in paper...*sigh*...

Destination/Place: Colorado beats about 80% of the places on the planet, but that number is compounded because it's HOME. Take a look at bbd's gorgeous photos and tell me it's not magnificent: http://open.salon.com/blog/bbd/2009/10/10/closer_to_the_sun_moon_and_stars

Second would be Ireland in Summer. I won first prize at the "In-Law Fair"...mine are great! They live in County Sligo, Ireland...Yeat's coutry:

"I will arise and go now, and go to Inisfree and a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made. Nine bean rows I will have there, and a hive for the honey bee, and live alone in the bee mad glade." (Apologies for the formatting...I can't seem to format poetry well here.)

My husband's Auntie Moírín lives just above this island, and it is stunning.

Third could be any number of places: Berlin; Rome; Santa Fe...I love to see new places and re-visit "old" ones.

Life is full of favourites and the more I age, the slower the savour of such things as these. Full on favourite thing to do: have a great conversation with good friends over good food and drink. Not a thing in creation (except maybe glorious lovemaking) compares.

So sláinte...here's a health to the company...do tell me of your favourites now!