Tiddlywinks and Pick-up Sticks

Let me tell you about Charlie Brown (a true Joplin hero)

2012-01-21T01:50:00.000-06:00

***************

Support Charlie Brown of Joplin

Just 1 week of voting left! Keep itup, we are doing great!
Thanks so much for everyone's support!

http://www.examiner.com/adoptive-families-in-joplin/an-unlikely-hero

***************************

Last May, my hometown wasalmost blown to smithereens when an F-5 tornado buzzed through town, takingthousands of homes, dozens of churches and schools and over 150 human lives.

Shortly after, a memorialservice attracted national attention and attendance, including, on the positiveside, the President of the United States.

On the negative side,however, the bizarre and hateful Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) announced plansto protest the memorial service. Westboro Baptist Church's web address is godhatesfags.com. The groupdespises the United States of America and pickets the funerals of US soldiers.

While many Jopliniteswere concerned about WBC, the organization is a particular anathema to onecomplex man named Charlie Brown: a Christian, a patriot and a gay man with aheart even bigger than his energetic, 6'3" self.

Using Facebook, Charlieset up a page to recruit people to counter demonstrate and shield the memorialservice from the effects of a WBC event. Along with other formal and informalefforts, Charlie's plan was so successful that almost no one from WBC evenshowed up.

At the time, CharlieBrown knew roughly what any thirty-something man in 2011 knows about socialmedia; no less but not much more, either. But the WBC effort set in motion a learning process that has turnedCharlie into an expert in the use of Internet social media for mobilizingadvocacy and charitable action.

Since May of 2011,Charlie has spearheaded or significantly assisted about a half dozen separateon-line undertakings, raising the equivalent of over quarter-of-a-milliondollars for restoration of public and private property in Joplin. The effortsand outcomes have now spread well beyond the Internet, but Facebook, Twitterand the Internet continue at the center of much Charlie is accomplishing.

In June, for example,Joplin was named "Tea Town USA 2011" by the Midwest deli chain,MacAlister's. The title, based on on-line votes, came with a $7,500 award.Using the network he'd begun building in response to WBC, Charlie helped bringthis one in for Joplin.

As the hot-hot summer of2011 wore on, Charlie and his colleagues recruited more area residents, Joplin'Expats' and sympathetic friends everywhere. The next big project was Coca-Colacompany's annual park grant. Also based on an Internet voting effort, theproject brought in $25,000 to help restore Joplin's Cunningham Park, a keyvenue destroyed by the tornado.

Working with others,Charlie and his nearly angelic followers have contributed to a Craftman Toolcontest, helping win $10,000 for a companion town in North Dakota. They spearheadeda major fundraising success involving the Oscar Mayer company, Homes for HopeJoplin and Christian Associates of Table Rock Lake that raised $100,000 to beapplied to building new 'green' homes in Joplin.

Homes for Hope Joplin asopened a thrift store in Joplin, offering great bargains for area shopperswhile generating additional revenues to support redevelopment.

Currently Charlie and hisever-growing group of responders are vigorously pursuing positions in twosignificant on-line contests, one sponsored by Examiner.com and the otherorganized by Reader's Digest.

Examiner.com

Examiner, an on-line magazine with broad U.S. coverage, is conducting a search

for heroes national-wide in several categories. Charlie is a strong contender in

the leadership category. If you'd like to join the effort on Charlie's behalf, follow

this link, register, click the Leadership link and click the block next to Charlie's

name -- obviously!

A WIN FOR CHARLIE IS A WIN FOR JOPLIN.

Support Charlie!

Reader's Digest

'We hear you America 2012" by Reader's Digest will provide $10,000 grants

to numerous communities and a $50,000 grand prize to the top vote getter.

Repeated and unlimited voting is not only allowed, but encouraged!  If you've

not voted yet and want to support Joplin, go to

Reader's Digest, We Hear You

Enter the zip code 64801. Then register and start voting.

***********

You can follow Charlie on Twitterat CharliesCharity

Third Try Does the Trick! (Ok, unofficially)

2011-10-27T20:12:00.013-05:00

At about 2 a.m. Sunday morning, a racketing hubbub woke me. I went to an open window to listen.

"Do I smell something burning?" my drowsy mate mumbled.

"I expect all the jack-of-lanterns are lit up now and we are smelling the smoke from them."

Several blocks from our house, the small suburban community of Highwood, IL was, once again, attempting to take the world record for jack-of-lanterns. Since the city of Boston, MA has been the reigning title holder, little Highwood's efforts are a study in determination and community spirit!

Three years ago, as the local chatter tells it, Highwood held a Pumpkin Festival featuring over one-thousand jack-o-lanterns.

Then the town got bigger ideas. Last year, they tried to set a world record for the most carved and lit up pumpkins in one place at one time. I tracked that effort here.

Last year, the total counts hit about 26,000 lit lanterns. But the record is about 30,000.

This year, Highwood set its target at 32,000. And to make things even more fun, they challenged the town of Keene, NH to a friendly competition.

Ever since Monday morning, I've been hearing that, while HW fell short of the goal, they beat the world record.

30,919!

Apparently the final word is officially still out ... but the excitement is all in!

Helping Restore of a Treasured Joplin Park

2011-08-11T19:04:00.019-05:00

The May 22nd tornado that destroyed 25-30% of Joplin, MO, took this treasured park along with everything else it took.

[Pre-tornado image of Cunningham Park, Joplin, MO from Google Earth]

That is what Cunningham looked like before the tornado. Here is what it looked like on May 23, 2011, the day after the tornado.

The spirited people of Joplin, MO -- with the help of many others -- have worked through one of the hottest summers on record to put their town and their lives back together.

Now they are asking friends and supporters everywhere to help a bit more -- this time with some clicks of a mouse!

Coca-Cola is running a grant contest this summer to assist park improvements. The Coca-Cola grant could be worth $100,000! -- if we take first place.

The winners will be determined by an on-line show of support. Here is how we can win together: follow the link below and click as directed to vote for Joplin's Cunningham Park.

There is strong competition for the funding. But the winning strategy is to have as many people as possible vote as frequently as possible. There are no limits on the number of times you can vote.

Vote for Cunningham Park

A kind and thoughtful friend of mine worried that he might be acting unfairly to vote over and over for Cunningham. "Aren't there other parks worthy of the funds?" he asked. And I told him what I will tell any of you who might share the same concern: yes, we have worthy competition -- but worthy in every respect.

Yes, like us, they have projects to fund that mean a great deal to the people involved. Yes, in at least some cases, they have sustained losses through no fault of their own, like we have.

But, like us, they are using every tactic and working every angle in this most honorable and vigorous competition. They, too, are power voting. They, too, like us, are asking for the support of family and friends throughout the country and throughout cyber-space.

It's like a game we are playing with very real prizes for the winners.

So as our kids are asking --

from
http://www.facebook.com/CokeVoteJoplin

Vote for Cunningham Park

More?

Check out the Facebook page for our voters: Coca-Cola Voting Marathon for Joplin! Online

Or read about the contest at Coca-Cola's Live Positively website.

Seeing It

2011-06-13T06:43:00.014-05:00

We've always heard how a picture can communicate so much more than words alone and many friends have asked to me share or show or email or post my photographs of my hometown, Joplin, MO, in the aftermath of the May 22nd record-setting tornado.

Yet, despite the value of photographs, I want to tell you what my brother told me before I returned to Joplin about two weeks after the disaster: no matter how many photos or videos you see, pictures cannot compare to seeing it yourself. After two days of driving and walking the area and taking pictures, on the late afternoon of the second day, I went out again and felt as stunned by the sight as I had when I first saw it.

Nothing can do this justice, but here are about twenty of my best shots.

Close Calls

2011-05-29T20:48:00.005-05:00

On Friday, May 20, 1988, a very disturbed woman named Laurie Dann went on a rampage which included shooting an eight-year-old boy to death in a Chicago suburban elementary school.

On Wednesday, December 21, 1988, a bomb explosion on a Pan Am Flight from London Heathrow Airport to John F. Kennedy International Airport killed everyone abroad and several people on the ground in Scotland as well.

On Sunday, May 22, 2011, a massive tornado set itself down and parked over Joplin, MO, killing people and destroying property beyond historic Missouri records.

Except for the human tragedies, these events have little to do with each other.

Unless you happen to be me.

On the day Laurie Dann shot and killed a second-grader at a Chicago north shore school, I HAD a second-grader at a Chicago north shore school. The Pan Am flight that was taken down was the same flight my husband's daughter took from London to Chicago just a couple of days before. And sixteen relatives of mine live in five households in Joplin, MO.

In each of these events, my beloveds were potentially in harms' way. And in each case, my own were spared while others were not. Each time, my attention was consumed for some time by the awareness of what others were suffering. My joy at 'dodging the bullet' was restrained by something like 'survivor guilt' -- pain for those who took the hit.

Human life is an admixture of luck and accomplishment, failure and crises and plenty of day-to-day routine. The big events, extreme events, for better or worse, sometimes are humanly caused and sometimes beyond human control. But the victims are generally innocent, so whether a crazy woman shoots a child or a crazy storm takes someone's brother or sister and their homes, we know: who is taken and who survives is utterly random.

I believe that.

I don't think I've been spared the crushing pain of losing my beloveds for any reason or because of any plan. I believe it is random.

But I also believe it is a reminder to all of us to live as fully as possible, to love every day of our lives – to love the people we care for and the lives we are blessed to live.

The Question I Cannot Ask

2011-04-02T17:30:00.007-05:00

Each week I pose a question via Twitter and Facebook in hopes of engaging and entertaining my friends with interesting conversation.

Sometimes the question concerns the way we use important words. For example, we've discussed how we use the words 'envy' and 'jealousy.' Sometimes I ask about particular types of experiences. I asked my friends to reveal the bravest thing he or she had done. Sometimes the question concerns wishes, whims, desires, thoughts or feelings. Recently during the Wisconsin teachers union action, I asked my friends how they feel in general about unions.

I keep a running list of new questions as they occur to me. There are a couple of questions that come to mind over and over. I write them down. Then when I consider using one of these question, I realize it is not a question most people would choose to talk about in public, with attribution. Since the answers are mostly posted on Facebook, in public, with attribution, it doesn't make sense to ask such a question.

But I just discovered that someone else has posed at least one of these questions in a format that allows people to respond anonymously. I've often consider asking: What is your greatest regret?

Want to get it off your chest? Check this out: http://www.secretregrets.com/

Here's a word barely worth knowing: coruscate. (Vocabulary 2011-4)

2011-02-25T07:42:00.002-06:00

There are a few words I recognize slightly, but repeatedly have to look up. The verb 'coruscate' and its adjective sibling 'coruscant' are such words.

George Eliot uses that word and I knew I should remember what it means, but I had to reach for the dictionary. Then I knew why I never remember this word -- because except when some silly writer uses it, I have no use for it.

Coruscate is a Latinate word and as Latin contributions go, I guess it's okay. It means to flash or flicker, like a fire. It has a bit of a crackling sound to it, which is good. But it doesn't come close to at least a half dozen or more Anglo-Saxon words that capture that feeling of a sparkling flame. Consider twinkle or glitter or shine. Sputter and shimmer. Glitter and glow; gutter and glimmer.

Who needs 'coruscate'? But I bet you and I won't have to look it up again!

A Word with No Definition? (Vocabulary 2011-3)

2011-02-16T18:57:00.009-06:00

In George Eliot's 1871-2 novel Middlemarch, she uses the word 'worreting.' To the ear of a modern English speaker familiar with the words 'worry' and 'fret,' 'worret' sounds like an additional synonym for those. 'Worret' certainly suggests a ruminating, troubled state of mind. But of course words don't always mean what they sound like they'd mean, so I headed to a handy dictionary.

Where I found ... no listing for 'worret'!

As I have many occasions to use the words worry, fret, fuss and so forth, an additional synonym would be so welcome. Thus, I was a little frustrated. (Traveling, I'm away from my OED, where I'm guessing I will find its definition when I return home.)

However, I located a document on the Internet showing about a half dozen uses of the word in context, all occurring in literature written between about 1875 and 1915. From such context, the meaning of the word can be inferred.

Let's look at a couple or few cases.

The Middlemarch quote is:

Mr. Bulstrode could not enjoy life in their fashion, eating and drinking so little as he did, and worreting himself about everything, he must have a sort of vampire's feast in the sense of mastery.

Eliot also used the word twice in her 1859 novel Adam Bede. For example:

"They mean we shouldn’t be overanxious and worreting ourselves about what’ll happen to - morrow, but do our duty and leave the rest to God’s will."

In his 1871 study called Character, Samuel Smiles uses the word:

They have educated themselves in the habit of endurance, of not being easily provoked, of bearing and forbearing, of hearing harsh and even unjust things said of them without indulging in undue resentment, and avoiding worreting, petty, and self-tormenting cares.

Additional quotes use the word in much the same sense and I think we can reasonably conclude: worret is a lost synonym for worry or fret.

Everything Old is New Again ( Vocab. 2011-2)

2011-02-07T08:36:00.009-06:00

This spring my reading group plans to focus on classics. In preparation, I've just re-read George Eliot's Middlemarch and Theodore Dreiser's Sister Carrie.

I've been struck by language and observations that seem so contemporary.

For example, writing in about 1870, Eliot makes a detailed observation on the social reality recently captured in the expression "eating out on." The point is that gossip and similar human events provide us opportunities for socializing.

But perhaps that's not so surprising; human nature is constant. More surprising to me are some of Dreiser's expressions. I was surprised when one of his late 1800's characters says the words "Come on, people." Or uses this expression I'd've sworn was born in the late 1960s: out of sight!

On the other hand, Eliot uses a number of words we don't use anymore. But prehaps we should.

Cupidity

When Eliot refers to 'any trash ... suspected of mean cupidity,' I assume a link of some kind with the word 'Cupid,' the impish Roman god who inspires love or desire. And, in fact, the words 'cupid' and 'cupidity' come from the same Latin root words. Yet, while Cupid has become rather lighthearted symbol of romantic love in our time, the word 'cupidity' has dropped from common use.

In my opinion, it's time to restore this solid synonym for 'greed' or 'avarice': cupidity.

Troublous

And while we're restoring out of fashion words, I suggest another Eliot find: troublous. Meaning just what you'd expect, it can be a useful alternative to 'troublesome' and 'troubling.'

Reflections on Desire and Greed

2011-01-30T12:46:00.004-06:00

Back in the 80s, the expression 'greed is good' became popular for awhile. This verbal contradiction was used to call attention to the value associated with needs, wants and desires, the driver behind all effort and all production. Needs, wants, even longings and cravings, are normal and even necessary to life.

Greed cannot, however, literally be good, simply because the word ‘greed’ is intend to name a vice. For example, in the Christian faith, greed, also called avarice and covetous, is one of the seven deadly sins.

But the word play and other uses of the word 'greed' have had me reflecting for a long, long time about what distinguishes morally acceptable desire from contemptible greed. Greed is excessive desire, but the question remains: what is ordinary, fair desire and what is excessive? How do we decide?

I had largely come to think that action distinguishes ordinary desire from greed. Though sin-in-your-heart types might disagree, I have trouble believing desire that has no consequences is a vice. If, however, your desire seduces into you into dishonorable behavior like cheating, lying, stealing, committing fraud, that might distinguish greed.

But last week I posed this question – desire vs. greed – to my Facebook friends. (I didn’t get a rousing response, which probably means this question interests me more than it does most people. Perhaps I should be taking the hint!) Of the people who responded, most spoke of a psychic or emotional internal difference in the individual, not of behavior or action.

I recognize that that might be significant.

Curiously, all too often when I hear a person charge others -- whether individuals or organizations -- with greed, what I hear is frustration and resentment. I wonder if this is projection or a ‘takes one to know one’ phenomenon. Responding to frustration with resentment and bitterness is an error or vice of some kind; resentment eats the soul.

Thus, it comes together for me this way: greed is desire that corrupts. Desire that results in bitterness in the psyche or dishonor in action – or both -- : that’s greed.

Did a word ever send you on a wild goose chase? Me and suzerain. (Voc 2011-1)

2011-01-20T20:42:00.002-06:00

When Gregg Easterbrook in his admittedly oversimplified description of modern Arabian psychology (The Progress Paradox , pg. 141) said "Americans asserted suzerainty over much of Islam's oil wealth," he sent me on a journey, as the folks from Raleigh County, GA say, "all the way to Egery and back."

The dictionary definition of 'suzerainty' refers one on to the word 'suzerain.'

A suzerain is a sovereign, either an individual or state, holding political control over another state, thus a dependent state. Historically, a suzerain was a feudal overlord.

Somehow that left me a little confused still about Easterbrook's use of the term. So I turned to Wikipedia to read up on 'suzerainty.' Wikipedia says that 'suzerainty' refers to a relationship between a superior and subordinate for which there are no accurate contemporary examples. The accurate use of the word, I gathered, refers to the relationship between a feudal lord and his vassals.

Before I realized what I'd done, I was reading up on the etiology of the word 'suzerain,' feudalism as a concept, feudal law, the history of OPEC and more generally the history of the petroleum industry in the Arabian peninsula and heaven knows what else!

So, guess what. I now have a fairly good idea where the word came from, why the word was coined in about 1600, how it was intended to distinguish a very specific relationship of reciprocal obligations between two political entities and how that relationship, if it every really existed, wasn't named or defined until it had ceased to exist. And I know the word is being used today in a very loose and unclear fashion to refer to various power relationships; the word tells us nothing about the nature, source or practices associated with the so named power relationship.

That said, nowadays the word 'suzerain' means 'overlord' and the word 'suzerainty' can be taken to mean 'overlordship' or the position of an overlord.

Chase done; there we go.

Judging a book by its ... title!

2011-01-11T06:28:00.006-06:00

Have you ever bought a book simply because the title was

irresistible?

That what I did when I came across the title I Never Metaphor

I Didn't Like.

At first, I didn't really read the book. From time to time, I'd

open it and read a few of the quotes -- metaphors, similes,

analogies and similar items. That, it turns out, is a perfectly

reasonable approach to this book.

A couple of weeks ago, I started borrowing quotes from the

book for my Facebook status updates.

I was enjoying that quite a bit, but doing that got me curious

about the author and how he came to write such a book. So

I started reading from the start and discovered that the author,

Mardy Grothe, is a psychologist who started collecting phrases

and expressions he liked when he was a undergraduate student

in the 60s.

In addition to a career in psychology with a focus on business

relationships, Grothe has spent years fascinated by wordplay

and verbal witticisms. So far he has published five books

exploring imaginative use of language.

So, this note is an acknowledgement of Mardy Grothe, I Never

Metaphor I Didn't Like and the source of my recent and coming

metaphor Facebook status messages.

Thanks, Dr. Mardy!

World AIDS Day

2010-12-01T14:15:00.003-06:00

In memory of Worlds AIDS Day, I'm sharing this: Grief Suite and a joint AIDS memoir.

Pumpkin Carving Grows on Us

2010-10-29T10:39:00.009-05:00

I guess we all know that pumpkin carving and Halloween decorating is turning into a veritable art form. I just think this effort by a neighbor down the shore a bit deserves exposure beyond those of us who drive by!!

Highwood Seeks World Record!

2010-10-23T17:16:00.007-05:00

For several days, I've been watching as more and more carved pumpkins have shown up on racks in the nearby town center. I've never seen anything quite like this!

Of course a web search solved the mystery of the pumpkin racks and the daily increases in carved pumpkins showing up in Highwood all through the past week. And the answer is:

an attempt at a Guiness Book of World Record

Got Block Styrofoam?

2010-10-22T13:45:00.002-05:00

One of my reoccurring disposal problems involves those bulky, white blocks of foam you get when you buy new computers, printers, TVs and so on; it's a form of styrofoam and most routine recycling efforts don't take it.

This is very local and probably temporary, but for friends and neighbors near Chicago's suburban North Shore, here's an opportunity to dump that stuff!

This Saturday in Highland Park from 10AM to 5PM -- one day only! -- you will be able to drop off clean, white packing styrofoam (the bulky stuff that electronics get packed in) for RECYCLING! Usually, it goes into landfill. On Saturday, you can recycle it in Highland Park at the Hidden Creek AquaPark on Fredrickson at Central, near Route 41. Lake County Board member Anne Bassi arranged with Moraine Township, the Park District of Highland Park and Abt Electronics to conveniently drop off styrofoam at Hidden Creek. Abt Electronics has a machine that processes the bulky styrofoam into condensed, reusable material that they send to China for re-use. Customers can drop off such materials to Abt in Glenview all through the year, but they have generously agreed to bring a 53 foot trailer to the Hidden Creek parking lot to make it irresistibly easy for us to recycle this troublesome material. If this project is successful, we plan to repeat it. Please help us!

I've been busy elsewhere

2010-10-20T13:51:00.001-05:00

Nothing new here -- sorry. But, check out the review I posted yesterday, over there: Readworthy Books, Fast Track.

Death, Aging and other laughing matters

2010-05-03T17:00:00.000-05:00

For no particular reason, I ended up reading Ian Frazier essays this morning. Well, actually, it was sort of a carry-over from some stuff I was reading and thinking about during Poetry Month, April. I'd headed out to the Internet in search of an Ezra Pound essay entitled "The Lyric Impulse/X-ta-see and Po-a-tree." While I couldn't find that essay, I did find a reference to it in one of Frazier's essays ... but that's a digression already.

In a hilarious send-up called Researchers Say, Frazier tells us:

According to a study just released by scientists at Duke University, life is too hard. … As the data accumulated, … they provided incontrovertible proof that life is actually worse than most living things can stand. … A major disadvantage to living which the study called attention to is, of course, death. … Death’s effects on life … are two: First, death intrudes constantly and unpleasantly by putting life a risk at every stage … degrading its quality and compromising happiness. … Second, and far worse, death also constitutes an overwhelmingly no-win experience in itself.
From Lamentations of the Father: Essays by Ian Frazier; essay entitled Researchers Say, pp. 88-89; Picador, New York, copyright 2008.

Moving on from death itself, Frazier reflects on the challenges to quality and enjoyment of life posed by the inevitable processing of aging. And, furthermore, the daily challenges faced in just getting through the day.

Then the essayist reports that solutions – exciting possibilities – are under development daily … although his explanations leave the reader suspecting this could just be 'puffery.' And he cautions, in conclusion, that “…we must not underestimate our adversary, life itself. Uncomfortable even at good moments, difficult and unfair usually, and a complete nightmare much too often, life will stubbornly resist betterment, always finding new ways of being more than we can stand.” pp. 92

Or, as another great contemporary commentator, scriptwriter Robert Towne tells us through one of The Missouri Breaks characters, “Life … it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Where I've Been! (Reviews elsewhere)

2010-04-11T12:49:00.006-05:00

Someone mentioned looking here for a recent post I'd mentioned.

Obviously that was an oversight on my part! Here's the link to my recommendation of Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time:

http://readworthybooks.blogspot.com/search/label/Mark%20Haddon

Here's something you shouldn't miss!

2010-02-18T13:38:00.008-06:00

Early this past December, a member of my family suffered a stroke. In discussing how family members could help with his recovery, my brother reminded me of a book several of us read a year or two ago. Although I remembered reading the book and being impressed, I couldn’t recall the relevant recommendations in any detail, so I quickly got my hands on a copy to refresh my memory. (Actually, I downloaded a copy to my Kindle for a modest price.)

On the morning of December 10, 1996, 37-year-old neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor had a massive stroke. In the hours, days, months and years following the event, Jill's brain and body became her laboratory, a theater where she learned more about human capacities and potentials than any school or classroom had offered to teach her.

In her book My Stroke of Insight, Taylor details her experience. She includes an appendix of 40 specific notes about the things she needed from the people around her in order to recover.

Without question, if you care about someone who has had a stroke, Taylor’s book is a must read.

But the book works on so many levels that – even reading it a second time – I couldn’t stop thinking of all the loved ones, friends and even acquaintances I wanted to share it with.

Whether you face a physical, emotional, mental or spiritual challenge, whether the challenge is yours directly or concerns the recovery or growth of someone you care about, Jill Bolte Taylor’s book offers something you need to know.

For example, Taylor's experiences and her conclusions tell us not to make limiting assumptions about how much a victim can recover or grow. Eight years after her stroke, Taylor was still regaining skills.

Taylor's left-brain stroke introduced her to her right-brain capacity to experience herself as merged and peacefully at one with the universe. As she recovered, she wanted to regain her sense of herself as a separate and whole individual. But she hoped to recover that sense without also regaining her "egotism, intense desire to be argumentative, need to be right, or fear of separation and death..”. (Taylor, My Stroke of Insight, digital edition location 1778-1780.)

She also explains how externally triggered emotions can take control of a person – or, alternatively, how the person can wait out the initial emotional-biochemical rush and gain purposeful control.

Taylor has followed the success of her book with many appearances, U-Tube posts and interviews, further expanding on the book. In the following excerpt from an interview published on-line, she discusses how she now uses what she learned to keep her life more in balance today.

Can you describe that feeling of bliss that your stroke brought on, and how you're able to hook into it now?

I know that I have a choice in how I look at any situation, and I can create tools that help me recognize when something is stimulating my stressful circuitry. I feel my anxiety and my body pumping up, and it doesn't feel good physically. What do I need to do to step to the right of that? For me, it's coming to the present moment by getting back into my body -- going for a walk, changing my visual scene, and thinking about what I'm looking at. Often I'll sing a song, a very soft melody that's slow and simple, because for me it's an issue of escalation.

My anxiety and stress circuitry runs fast and I can feel that, so I'll consciously choose to shift into something slower. And when I consciously shift into a slower thought pattern, there's just this incredible absence of urgency, of stress, of thinking about all the things in my life that give me stress. A deep inner peace pervades me. There's a celebration of life -- a joyfulness. It's a beautiful experience.

from an interview with Jill Bolte Taylor reported at http://www.caring.com/interviews/jill-bolte-taylor

I've put Jill Bolte Taylor’s book on my shortlist of works I go back to over and over. I hope you will, too.

[Cross-posting with http://readworthybooks.blogspot.com/]

Transition Time

2010-02-14T15:26:00.004-06:00

Despite a blue-gray, lazy-feeling Sunday, we went for one last winter walk on the beach --

before returning to family and friends in scenes more like this --

Moon over Miami

2010-01-30T12:58:00.004-06:00

Last night the moon was full and the Earth and Moon were closer togother than they will be again in 2010.

Here's how it looked from our balcony.

South Beach Balcony Night Views

2010-01-14T20:00:00.013-06:00

Looking north from our balcony.
Watching people drop off donations for Haiti in small park across from our building.

Looking south from our balcony.

Let’s grab our gobsticks and gobble some grub. (Vocab. #10)

2010-01-13T19:15:00.008-06:00

About a month ago my friend, Sandra Kungle, posted this status update on her Facebook:

“Upper East Side, Hunter College at 68th and Lexington, 5 P.M Saturday afternoon.....SIX consecutive cab drivers refused to take a little old lady (me) to Penn Station......gobsmacked!”

Gobsmacked – what a great sounding word. But where did she get it and what does it mean?

Dedicated followers may remember that novelist Shirley Hazzard contributed quite a number of words to my evolving vocabulary project here. One of the reasons Hazzard’s word choices seem fresh to my ear is because she is British. More recently I’ve been reading another Brit: Mark Haddon, who has a contribution here today.

My friend Sandra first heard ‘gobsmacked’ from yet another British attraction: Susan Boyle.

In the British Isles, the word ‘gob’ is slang for mouth. (And I have no issue with slang, as will grow clearer over time, I expect.)

Thus, ‘gobsmacked’ means smacked in the mouth; in other words, speechless or astonished.

Sandra’s post caused the word ‘gobstopper’ to pop into my mind, but again I didn’t know where the word came from or what it meant. A stopper for the mouth? Could it mean something like ‘put a sock in it’? That’s an expression I ruefully admit I’ve used a time or two.

When I tried to check the definition for ‘gobstopper’ however, I came up so empty handed I concluded I’d dreamed the word up myself.

So I moved on. But I happen to be working on a review of Mark Haddon’s 2003 novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. Among Haddon’s earlier work I find a children’s book called Gilbert’s Gobstopper! Turns out a gobstopper is a large, hard, round confection; state-side, we called it a jawbreaker.

Last but not least, in locating the meaning of ‘gobstopper,’ I found this great alternative for ‘spoon’: ‘gobstick.’

Can a blog recrudesce? (Vocabulary #9)

2010-01-12T16:12:00.013-06:00

About two months ago, I suspended blogging in response to pressing family needs. While several of these needs continue, dealing with them has become routine and it’s time to get back to the business of blogging.

I was in the midst of a vocabulary riff when matters went south and I'd like to resume, recommence and return with a bit of verbal fun -- ideally an unfamiliar but altogether usable word meaning 'to begin again after a break' or 'resume after a hiatus.'

Reverse dictionaries suggest 'recrudesce' (re kroo des), which, in its most generalized sense, means 'to become active again.'

Taken thus, I am tempted to say I am ready to recrudesce, acting with recrudescence to make Tiddlywinks and Pick-up Sticks recrudescent.

Unfortunately, ‘recrudesce’ shares its source with ‘crude’ and, like ‘crude,’ has a somewhat negative connotation. Medical professionals speak of diseases, rashes and sores recrudescing; health, vigor and production could recrudesce but that’s not the most typical use of this unusual word.

So, you can decide. Me? Reviving the blog vocabulary commentary, I intend to resume, recrudecse and rekindle. Next up is a blurb on gob-words. Then, later in the week, watch for what fashion magazines can do for your vocabulary.

Here's Our New Wrinkle! (Vocab. #8)

2009-11-12T18:51:00.003-06:00

I expect this happens in many languages, but I only know English well enough to notice: words in English that sound similar often have similar meanings.

It is not safe, however, to assume that two similar sounding words share a common meaning. For example, ‘pimple’ and ‘dimple’ sound a lot alike, but if you tried to guess the meaning of the first from your knowledge of the second, you’d most likely lead yourself astray.

So, Cormac McCarthy writes: “Clamberin over those old caved and rimpled plates you could see well enough how things had gone in that place,…” And I hesitate over the unfamiliar ‘rimpled.’

Since it sounds a lot like ‘rumpled,’ you might guess it means the same thing – wrinkled, crinkled, crumpled or creased. Puckered and rippled.

And in this case, you would be correct!

If You Play to Win, You Need Vocab. #7

2009-11-11T13:31:00.003-06:00

For those who know the card game euchre, the expression euchred or euchred out is part of the game. For the rest of us, it may be less familiar but it's no less useful. If you euchred out your competitors, you outwitted them. You're no gormless creature. In fact, you're splendid and perspicacious.

Tomorrow I think I'll have a new wrinkle for you; don't forget to be here.

Vid or Id? (Vocabulary #6)

2009-11-10T15:24:00.008-06:00

Shirley Hazzard uses the word ‘gravid’ and Cormac McCarthy speaks of someone as ‘scurvid.’ The similar endings, ‘vid’ caught my eye. There are really only a couple dozen or so words in the English language ending in ‘vid’; avid and livid, David and vivid come to mind. Scurvid does not.

But a little investigation cued me to this: the ‘v’ in ‘gravid’ comes for the base word, ‘grave.’ I came to surmise the ‘v’ in ‘scurvid’ comes from a base word shared with ‘scurf’ and ‘scurvy.’ It’s the suffix ‘id’ that gives the words their commonality.

For Hazzard’s ‘gravid,’ you can actually check most any dictionary – the American Heritage on the shelf or any good on-line dictionary will tell you it means ‘pregnant or heavy with ripe eggs.’ I like my Dover sole gravid; how ‘bout you? The root is the same as the root for ‘grave’ – meaning ‘heavy, serious’ and so on. The pronunciation reminds us of 'gravity.'

McCarthy’s ‘scurvid’ is another matter altogether. I challenge you to find that in any printed dictionary. If you check on-line, you’ll likely be referred back to the McCarthy work Blood Meridian, my source for the word.

So what gives here? Did McCarthy make the word up? And if he did, can we tell what he meant? Can we use the word ourselves?

Yes, yes and yes again.

The suffix ‘id’ is used to form adjectives, very much the way the suffix ‘y’ forms adjectives in English. Thus, for example, ‘mess,' a noun, becomes the adjective, messy.

But, according my 1970 printing of the Oxford English Dictionary, except for a few technical uses, the suffix 'id' "is not a living formative in Eng." In other words, speakers of English no longer form new words by using the ending 'id.'

We might say someone forgot to tell McCarthy, but frankly it would be more accurate to say the OED didn't anticipate the arrival of Cormac McCarthy. McCarthy takes the root from 'scurvy,' substitutes one suffix for another and produces a new variation with the same meaning. So, only a scurvid cad -- a worthless, contemptible man -- would leave a gravid mate to fend for herself.

Delivering on a Promise

2009-11-09T16:30:00.002-06:00

Several months ago in a post concerning chain letters, I remarked that, barring copyright issues, I would share an article here that had been forwarded to me in an email chain letter.

I did a little digging, located the source and even attempted to contact the author. Although I got no response from the author Helen Schwimmer herself, I feel somehow incomplete not having done what I said I'd do. Because in fact I am pretty sure I know how to address any copyright issues that might exist. Specifically, I'm just going to refer you to the original published piece, after I tell you a tiny bit about it.

This is a story of human survival and more -- of the determination of human beings to make dreams come true and to thrive despite the horrors that life experience can bring. It is a moving reminder of the best and the worst of life.

So, today I recommend The Wedding Gown That Made History.

Twitter is the current standard for bruiting; Vocab. #5

2009-11-08T08:56:00.004-06:00

Words often move from specific, technical uses into our more everyday usage. For example, in the 70s, the word 'venue' moved from its source in the realm of law to our general language. The word 'dispositive' is currently traveling the same path.

Similarly, 'bruit' comes to us from medicine, where it refers to a loud, abnormal sound in the chest that alerts an examining physician to a circulatory problem.

Thus, 'to bruit' means to announce or report intrusively or vigorously, to spread the news. And a 'bruit' is a rumor, a noisy din or a loud, intrusive announcement.

So, when a celebrity appears on the red carpet and all the young folks start madly texting, their tweets bruit the arrival.

Better Than Vocabulary Building -- Again

2009-11-07T15:32:00.008-06:00

The great things about hanging around with little kids -- aside from the joy of the kids themselves -- is doing things you never think to do otherwise. Like spending a morning at SeaWorld, watching the Ocra Whale show, throwing fish to seals and feeding the world's most colorful birds. I love the birds that collect at my home feeders, but for eye delight, they cannot quite match this!

Sampling from SeaWorld, San Antonio, November 7, 2009

Dinner with a Dollie

2009-11-06T19:49:00.003-06:00

Excuse me while I take a brief break from the vocabulary building. I am on family weekend in San Antonio; among other things, we are exploring the American Girl Doll phenomenon.

When I first started hearing about American Girl Dolls, I thought this was something that had been around forever that I’d just missed somehow. But when I decided to figure out how I’d been so out of touch, the truth became simple: this line of amazing dolls came into existence in 1986, when my young boy child was already 6 years old. By the time the momentum built, I was mostly involved with mothers raising boys; dolls weren’t high on our list of concerns. I would hear a bit about these dolls and their tea parties and hospitals and such from time to time, but that didn’t pull my focus..

Fast forward to grandchildren. Suddenly little girls and the interests of little girls matter again.

The little girl in my life wanted American Girl Dolls for her November birthday. Her granddad and I couldn’t have been more willing to do the honors – or more happy sappy. So, here’s American Girl Doll Ruthie at dinner with us this evening. I’m just delighted to have little girls in my life again!.

The MSWord Spellchecker Didn’t Need to Be Taught Vocab. Lesson #4

2009-11-05T15:11:00.003-06:00

If you are following my word-rich blogging, I judge you decidedly perspicacious.

And if you feel you sort of know what I mean, you are probably right. Like me, you probably recognize that you’ve heard or seen that word before and that it means something good.

But maybe – also like the former ‘me’— you don’t know quite what the good thing is.
So the new ‘me’ is here to tell you.

Actually, perspicacity is the perfect antidote to yesterday’s ‘gormlessness.’ If you are perspicacious, you are highly discerning, perceptive, clear-sighted.

(And, of course, being so, you will continue to watch for future Tiddlywinks installments.)

Build Your Vocabulary so You Don't Sound Gormless (Vocab. #3)

2009-11-04T14:05:00.002-06:00

The words you know and use come from your interests, your activities and your general engagement in living. You pick up new words from the media, from the places you go and from your friends. It is possible to be very intelligent with a limited vocabulary – but it doesn’t happen much. In fact, a limited vocabulary restricts your ability to communicate, to understand and possibly even to think effectively.

Of course if you use a lot of words the people around you don’t know, you could be talking to no one but yourself.

On the other hand, that might just be a virtue if you are frustrated by a witless, brainless companion! Rather than call the dolt ‘stupid,’ you can resort to ‘gormless,’ satisfy your impulse to express yourself without losing a friend. Maybe. Assuming the person is, in fact, as dull witted as you believe.

You may find variations for ‘gormless’ like ‘gaumless’ and ‘gawnless,’ as the word comes to us from the Germanic strand, from ‘gaum,’ meaning 'understand.'

And if you don’t want to be understood, save ‘gormless’ for State-side; the Brits apparently use it more than we. Plus, it is likely to be on the upswing here as well, as J. K. Rowling used it in the 2007 Potter release.

Raven with a Maven: Vocab. #2

2009-11-03T16:22:00.005-06:00

Sometimes the word that stumps you isn’t unknown – it’s just used in an unfamiliar way. Thus, when Ms. Hazzard referred to someone ‘ravening,’ I wasn’t certain I knew what she meant.

I know, of course, what a raven is. It’s that big bird that appears in Poe’s poem. But I didn’t know it was possible to raven; I didn’t know ‘raven’ could be a verb.

What does it mean ‘to raven’? (So glad you asked.)

Probably, I thought, something like this: to behave in the manner of ravens. And how do ravens behave? They fly, they nest, they flock, they eat, they scavenge. We don’t see ravens much in the suburban North Shore, but I did have a tribe of them (flock seems too gentle a word) at my north side birdfeeder once and I’ll tell you this: they scared away all the other creatures, not just the littler birds but the squirrels on the ground, too. And they devoured everything they could get their beaks on.

At the risk of distracting you with a wild bird chase, I also considered the possibility that ‘ravening’ meant something like ‘falconry’ or ‘hawking.’ Falconry or hawking involves training and using birds in hunting small game; it was a sport popular among the Anglo-Saxon nobility some centuries back.

So off to the dictionary went I, where my first suspicion was confirmed: 'to raven' is 'to consume greedily, to devour.'

And, while ignoring the likely connotation, I want to say: to raven words ain’t misbehavin’.

Vocabulary Lesson 1: Azoic

2009-11-02T15:12:00.004-06:00

Usually when I read, I do not need a dictionary. Nor do I consider the use of uncommon words a necessary feature of creative or imaginative writing. Yet I could not help but be impressed with two writers I encountered this summer whose work sent me to or even beyond my handy Webster’s Collegiate time and time again.

Shirley Hazzard’s The Transit of Venus introduced me to at least two dozen new words. And reading Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy tripled that treat. With almost one hundred new words in my quiver, I thought I’d share a bit.

One at a time.

So, today, I offer an azoic or beginning lesson. That is to say, the word for today is ‘azoic,’ meaning ‘at, in or near the beginning.’

The word ‘azoic’ is an adjective. The ‘a’ in this case carries the meaning of ‘not, without or opposite.’ And ‘zoic’ is related to ‘zoo,’ as in ‘zoology’ – meaning ‘life.’ Thus, ‘azoic’ refers to a period of time without life; geologically, the time before life appeared on earth.

For we living things, the time before life is at, in or near the beginning. Thus, the word ‘azoic’ comes to mean just that – at the beginning.

And I thought that was the perfect place to start.

We've Got Yesterday

2009-11-01T12:15:00.000-06:00

Halloween as photo op!

The Promise of Anne Lamott

2009-10-24T14:35:00.006-05:00

This past summer, I read several books by novelist and essayist Anne Lamott. Someone suggested I read Bird by Bird, which is Lamott’s book length reflection on the process of writing. Not only did I read it, I reviewed it and blogged about it.

Then I read some more Lamott and blogged some more.

Finally, in July, I began reading Crooked Little Heart with a public declaration that I would share my reactions. Reactions which might now seem long overdue!

But ripe or not, here they are.

Lamott opens Crooked Little Heart with this sentence: Rosie and her friends were blooming like spring, budding, lithe, agile as cats.

To my ear, that’s two stale similes in one very important sentence: not a good way to start.

If that were the best a writer could do for language, she would need a very, very strong story. In fact, Lamott delivers a fine, well-crafted, engaging story; good conflict, good resolution, plenty of side plot to keep the reader wanting to go forward.

But here’s a frustration. Lamott is actually very capable of outstanding language. Within pages of that disappointing opener, she refers to a man named “J. Peter Billings” as one who “parts his name on the left” –- certainly to me a bright and vivid capture. She gives us “low rolling lion-claw hills.” At one point, a teenage girl is “as broody as a gaunt young buffalo,” and another, elsewhere, “snores like an ancient pug.” And I could continue.

So why open with a bomb? That seems sloppy.

As for sloppy – Lamott continues in CLH to slip and slide around within a point of view frame. As in Rosie, she has a narrator with access to the interior lives of two characters –- but inconsistently. The reader is treated to the thoughts and feelings of the daughter sometimes and the mother at other times. When those two characters are apart, this troubles the reader little. But when the two characters come together, an odd thing happens; the narrator suddenly seem only to know what is going on with one or the other. Why is that?

The problem here may be more in the evolution of narrative technique than anywhere else. We readers have been trained in a tradition: the writer is expected to establish and then maintain a particular point of view. There are a number of options, but once set, the reader expects consistency. Any number of outstanding contemporary writers duck this expectation at random points with -- strangely enough -- no negative impact on the reader’s comfort and acceptance.

Why it works sometimes and does not work at others is beyond my capacity –- at least so far -- to parse.

But leaving aside such quibbles -- and they are definitely quibbles -- Anne Lamott writes stories and essays that are worth every minute you will spend with them.

Put her on your reading list.

Or, to put it another way:

Accessing the work of Anne Lamott

Was a task I ended liking a lot

While not quite top tier nor highly prolific

I find her delightful and pretty terrific.

Can You Tell?

2009-10-16T20:08:00.008-05:00

As we are walking away from our dinner companions this evening, my sweet mate says, "I know what's going to happen."

We've just finished dinner with some nice friends. Some political conversation, all cordial. Some health and family stuff; everyone is basically ok, nothing out of the ordinary.

We ourselves are a rather blessed middle American couple with probably fewer than average worries but nevertheless a real concern or two on our very real horizons.

So I am all attention!

He says, "Bets is going to find out he's cheating again and leave him for that politician's p.r. guy or the young fellow who cannot manage a horse."

And what world are we in?

You're Going to a Class Reunion? Why?!?

2009-10-10T17:04:00.012-05:00

Last weekend, October 2, 3 and 4, about 50 of my high school classmates got together in our old hometown. That means that roughly 10-12% of the class showed up for one or more of the class events scheduled for the weekend.

Ten to twelve percent is not a big turn-out. So I think it’s interesting to consider who came, who didn’t and – to whatever extent we know or can guess – why.

It was a class reunion, but the timing may have been a little ‘off’ for more than one reason. First of all, we finished high school about 45 years ago and ‘45’ is not a particularly common marker for big memory events. Twenty-five certainly and fifty; even thirty and forty seem more logical than 45. But some of our classmates did make the effort to organize a 45th.

In the past, we’ve usually had reunions in the summer, often near the end of the school year as if revisiting graduation itself. This time, we got together in October, on the weekend of Homecoming. That makes a certain kind of sense, but there are people who find traveling in June easier. Teachers and professors and school administrative types and anyone still responsible for school age children. (Not too many of us remain in that last group.)

So an October 45th Class Reunion might not be the biggest draw. Let’s assume a fair number of people simply decided – if they were interested at all – they’d wait for the big one coming up about five year from now. Particularly for classmates traveling in from out-of-town.

But what about that? Are people more likely to come if distance is no issue?

This is a bit of a surprise. A little over half of the class – maybe 55% -- live in and around the town of our youth – which, by the way, happens in this case to be Joplin, MO. A little under half – about 45% -- live outside the immediate area. Of course some live much further away than others.

Obviously, then, we would expect people living in the Joplin area to be ‘overrepresented’ at a class event. NOT SO! Just slightly over half of the attendees came from the Joplin area; slightly under half came in from out of the area.

If some people will come from a distance, why don’t lots and lots of people come from nearby?

I happen to have two friends who live in the Joplin area who did not come and I know why. In one case, she had direct conflicts with the timing; her spouse, not a classmate, had a birthday last weekend. In the other, she has less than no interest – she tried attending a reunion once and found the experience unpleasant.

In marketing research where I spent a fair chunk of my working life, we note that people can tell you why they do what they do, buy what they buy and so on. But they cannot as a rule tell you why they don’t do or buy something. In the case of class reunions, I suspect the opposite holds. If you don’t go, you probably know why and if you do go, it is rather harder to explain why.

Amazing things can happen at class reunions. My widowed mother found her wonderful second husband at a class reunion. Such hopes may account for some of the single classmates showing up. But it certainly cannot account for the majority, who arrived with spouses in tow.

I came – bringing my willing mate along – in part because I needed to make a trip to Joplin anyway. And I thought certain friends who matter to me greatly were coming in – didn’t happen to work out that way. And I just have this endless curiosity about the trajectories of lives – about the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows, the hopes and dreams we hold on to as well as the ones we let go of.

You rarely get what you came for, but it’s still interesting to see how we’re lookin’ these days.

Sitting on floor from left to right are:

Mardell Thomas Rouse, Stephanie White Everitt, June Johnson Shelton, Linda Hensley Evans, Linda Putnam Emmert, Carol Corbin Buck.

1st row left to right:

Phyllis Payne Sapp, Nancy Page Allen, Sharon Peters Arnold, Joyce Tillman Frey, Jeanne Looper Tighe, Janet Counts Severs, Janet Hale Tabin, Sharon Johnson Lawrece, Billie Lenger Stockam, Katherine Patterson Barnes, Charlene Veteto Jones, Sharyl Reece Barwick.

2nd row left to right:

Jim Christiansen, Jerry Brackett, Mike Clark, Paula Mills Barlett, Pat Aggus Noe, Donna Drake Helton, Betty Shanks Smart, Joe Cowen, Frank Metz, Martha Earhart Wright, Donna Powers Hansen.

3rd. row left to right:

David Knisley, Bill Cook, Tom Harrison, Bruce McCaw, Mitch Stevens, John Keeling, Ross Smith, Jay Campbell, Rick Sadler, Gary Flenner, Dennis Triplett, Bill Hunt, Perry Potter.

4th row left to right:

Butch England, Steve Campbell, Jim Anderson, Dennis Smith, Monty Gavin, Clyle Linam, Dave Stockam, Jim Krudwig, George Gagle, Micky Moore.

JHS64 Reunion after 45 Years -- Breakfast

2009-10-08T19:57:00.043-05:00

Here -- a little more edited and organized and labeled -- are pictures of part of the group that collected Sunday morning at the Golden Corral.

Not quite Breakfast at Tiffany's, are we!

(Left hand picture, from left) Martha Earhart daughter, Gene Baldwin's daughter, Paul Mills Bartlett.

(Right hand picture, from left) Paula Mills Barlett, Janet Counts Severs, Mike Clark.

(Left hand picture, from left) Paula Mills Bartlett and Janet Counts Severs.

(Right hand picture, from left) Mardell Thomas Rouse, Paula's husband Buzz Bartlett.

(Left hand picture, from left) Carol Corbin Buck, Sharon Peters Arnold, Sharon's granddaughter.

(Right hand picture) Paula Mills Bartlett.

(Left hand picture, from left) Martha Earhart Wright's son-in-law and daughter.

(Right hand picture, from left) Roger Brown, Jene Baldwin, Martha Earhart Wright.

(Left hand picture, from left) Sharon Peters Arnold, Sharon's granddaughter, Mardell Thomas Rouse.

(Right hand picture, from left starting with lavendar top) Betty Shanks Smart, Donna Drake Helton, David Knisley.

(Left hand picture, from left) mmm, maybe later, with help!

(Right hand picture, from left) Betty Shanks Smart, Janet Hale Tabin, Donna Drake Helton.

JHS64 Friday Tailgate Party

2009-10-08T19:20:00.036-05:00

Here are a few shots from the Friday night picnic in the Junge Stadium parking lot. If I've mis-identified anyone, corrections are most welcome!

Sharon Johnson Lawrence Pat Aggus Noe

Bruce McCaw, Billie Lenger Stockam,
David Stockam Jamie McCaw, Bruce's wife

Jim Christiansen

Sharon Peters Arnold

David Stockam

Billie Lenger Stockam

The Upside of Censorship

2009-10-02T23:16:00.008-05:00

Or Reading Banned Books on the North Shore

In case you haven’t heard, this past week was the American Library Association’s Banned Books Week. It reminds me that about this time last year, someone started circulating a list of books that had been banned or suppressed somewhere, sometime, with the claim that Sarah Palin had attempted to have all of them removed from the Wasilla, Alaska public library when she was mayor of the town. I was personally disappointed that some of my otherwise very intelligent and well-informed book loving friends readily accepted this hoax as truth.

But that did start a long conversation in my reading group.

My reading group plans booklists several months at a time. We have two very creative leaders who develop the lists with input from the rest of the group. We like to have a theme. Over the years, our themes have included “Laudable Asian Novels,” “Acclaimed Prize Winners,” “Adventure, Sex, History,” and “Around the World in Five Books.”

But following the circulation of the banned books list, our next theme was irresistibly banned books. From a list of about ninety books banned, suppressed or challenged, our team selected five.

If your group wants a starting place, check out this list -- link here: http://www.adlerbooks.com/banned.html

And maybe you’d like to see what we read from the list. Our picks, spanning the mid-nineteenth to the late twentieth century, also proved to cover a range of subjects. And they varied in literary value as well.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin, by Harriet Beecher Stowe, was published in 1852; the story is set in the pre-Civil War United States. The bestselling novel of the 19th century, it had a huge historic impact, often credited with sparking the U. S. Civil War.

Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain was published in 1884, but deals with events occurring considerably earlier, about 1839, in the American Midwest along the Mississippi River. Although very popular, it is often challenged because of its repeated use of the word ‘nigger.’

Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall was written and published about 1928. It is set primarily in England before, during and after the First World War. Less familiar, at least to the American reading public, the story concerns the development and life of a lesbian. The book was subject to considerable efforts to ban and suppress in England shortly after its publication.

Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D. L. Lawrence was also written and published about 1928. Although set in Great Britain and written in English, the book was published in Italy. The events of the novel take place in the early part of the 20th century. The book was considered quite sexually explicit for its time and was widely banned, censored and subject to suppression.

Not Without My Daughter, written by Betty Mahmoody with William Hoffer, was published in 1987 and described events from just a couple of years earlier, 1984-85. The book is based on Betty Mahmoody’s life and the life of her family, particularly concerning events in Iran. It paints a very unflattering picture of some Iranians and Iran in general. Efforts have been made in Iran to suppress the book.

Many years ago an uncle of mine specifically told me NOT to read James Joyce’s novel, Ulysses. Of course, the very comment only made me determined to read the book – which I admit I still try to do from time to time. But the point is this: there is nothing like forbidding people to read something to increase interest in doing just that.

So the ninety or so books on the Adler Banned Books list become all the more interesting because sometime, somewhere, someone tried to prevent other people from reading them.

Closet Streamlining By The Numbers

2009-09-04T19:38:00.006-05:00

You might think, after I wrote the book on closet cleaning – oh, okay, it was an article, but it took SO much research it felt like a book to me – I’d be done with that problem forever. But not so fast. This summer I noticed my closet had become a classic. The bad kind: closet full of clothes, nothing to wear. I couldn’t find two pieces, a top and a bottom, that could be worn together, that were clean and fit. Just possibly they were in there, but I couldn’t find them. Something had to give.

I’d read Tim Gunn’s list of ten essential items. And I’d been knocked off my hanger by this bit of information from Free author Chris Anderson: at the beginning of the twentieth century “the average American consumer had just eight outfits.” And I had an idea!

I certainly do not intend to limit my wardrobe to ten items nor to eight outfits. But a closet full of clothes with nothing I want to wear – that’s no way to dress, either.

I decided to try counting my clothes. Yep, counting.

I counted the number of hangers in my closet – well, actually, in three closets, as my clothes had been migrating in response to the overcrowding.
One-hundred and fifty hangers held blouses, sweaters, t-shirts and knit tops, jackets and blazers, pants ranging from jeans to capris to shorts to tailored trousers, and dresses and skirts. 150!!

Decided to eliminate one third. Yes, I set a numeric goal: I would give away (or throw away if it came to that) fifty items of clothing. Period.

Arbitrary? Yes. But, effective!

First, I called the Cancer Federation to schedule a pick-up a week hence. Have you noticed how a public promise is more motivating than a private one?

Then I started reviewing, item by item by item. I hoped to find about one in every three that could go into the CF box. (By the way, it is my understanding they have a use even for rag cloth, so I don’t worry about the quality of my ‘purgees.’) Here I am looking for just exactly what we all look for when we clean out closets: items that are wearing out, are stained or no longer fit, things we are not wearing anymore and, perhaps most importantly, things we keep throwing on knowing they do not flatter us anymore. (That last group is worth some reflection, but let’s stick with the process here.)

Sometimes I would slide five or six items along the pole without finding anything I could readily part with – but then the process would reverse and I’d find several in a row that could easily go.
And, by the time I had reviewed all 150 items, believe it or not, I had 50 garments neatly folded into a big box – and a closet in which I could actually see my clothes.

(Stage two was less arbitrary, more thoughtful and stragetic. If you are interested, check back.)

At an Age

2009-09-02T12:02:00.003-05:00

Too late, too late, too late,

The fall of my feet on the concrete walk

Repeat the beat of my heart: too late.

Dogs and Owners: A Family Resemblance

2009-08-14T07:40:00.003-05:00

Don't you agree he got his looks from his Mom?

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2009/08/11/health/20090811_dogsowners_userslideshow_26.html

Oh, yuck!

2009-08-04T12:21:00.008-05:00

I've just returned from a shopping errand that presented me with a contemporary dilemma.

As I stood waiting to check-out behind a young mom, I could see her toddler around the corner of the end aisle display. The mother was absorbed in paying for her purchase and had lost visual contact with the child.

The little girl, meanwhile, was gumming away on the wrapper of a Kit Kat bar she’d taken off the rack. Shortly, she stepped around into her mother’s line-of-sight and held the candy up with the ‘please, Mom’ look the little ones use.

Mom, however, said no and directed the child to return the candy to the rack. Which, interestingly enough, the child did with only minor objection.

And then she – the kid – started the entire procedure again, this time with a Milky Way.

Munch, munch, munch, stop munching; step around and make the appeal to mom.

Again, the mother said no. Again, the mother requested the child’s compliance from a distance that insulated the mother some of key facts. This time the child resisted somewhat more but the mother simply used more persuasive words, singing a little song about cleaning up which apparently the child is trained to respond to by – you got it – re-racking the item in her hand.

The mother never made physical contact with the child or the candy. In fact, the woman proceeded toward the store door, calling a ‘playful’ good-bye to the child.

Unbeknownst to the woman, her child had just slobbered all over the wrapper ends of two candy bars which she’d then had the child returned to the store rack. In the best case, the wrappers of the candy are now covered in the child’s saliva. Just as likely, the child breached one or both seals and the candy inside is contaminated with her spittle.

As I stood watching this entire episode, I was annoyed and conflicted. I know just how much young parents appreciate busy-body grandparent-y strangers telling them publicly what they are doing wrong. And, even if I’d tried, I could not have conveyed the information I had without conveying my judgment. And so I said nothing.

I should have said something. In fact, I regret my decision to ‘mind my own business.’ It was a wimp-out.

But, for goodness sakes, parents! If you take your youngsters out in public, keep your eyes on them. If you have to look elsewhere, keep your HANDS on them. Make sure you know where your kids are and what they are doing at all times.

A lot worse things can happen when a toddler wanders out of sight than a candy breach!

Sleeping with Anne Lamott

2009-07-25T08:37:00.023-05:00

Several months ago, my brother John and I got into a conversation about writing process and Anne Lamott’s work on the subject of writing process. John happens to be writing a novel and is actually the writer-friend referred to in this earlier post.

Out of that conversation came the post I just linked to and also a review of Lamott’s Bird by Bird, in the category Revisiting a Classic, at Readworthy Books.

Below, the conversation continues, as I find good reason to recommend Lamott’s Hard Laughter.

Janet to John

I did not suggest the Anne Lamott chapter on plot treatment [in Bird by Bird] with the intention to send you off in any particular direction. Just thought a pause to plan might help -- an outline, a treatment, whatever.

With the caveat that I've never prepared a novel-length narrative, I do think Lamott gives a pretty complete description of what a 'treatment' is, as she uses the concept. (That is, a chapter by chapter paragraph-style outline, noting 'where' the characters are at the beginning, what happens in the chapter, and where they are at the end.) But that is not to promote that particular concept.

In advertising, we used to talk about ‘a treatment.’ And sometimes what we saw resembled -- this worried me in earlier conversations -- a writer trying to talk the story into existence, ala your Joplin-writer-friend’s praise for what you had NOT done. So...

I have known writers -- listened to narrative writers talk about their process -- who say they start with 'just a feeling, a sense, a character and no idea where the story will go' and others who always know the end as they begin. I've never had the privilege to hear any of my personal heroes talk about this and I admit, the 'I know the end' types I've heard have tended to be category fiction writers. Dilemma. I don't much care about category fiction beyond the genius who created the category! But you are working on mainstream fiction with some aspirations to literature...

On the other hand, having 'listened' to people like Lamott and Cameron, who --notwithstanding Lamott's Plot Treatment chapter -- clearly advocate starting anywhere and following your characters' lead, I decided to look at their fiction results.

The first Lamott novel I could get my hands on was Rosie, which I found highly forgettable except for a couple of violations of my personal pet peeves: using a novelist as an important character and verbal cliques. I've just started to read a second Lamott novel, which happens to actually be her first novel, Hard Laughter. I am only a few pages in but already am much more impressed, even though there are writers who are important characters. (The key writer is dying. I guess that is a good thing – from the point of view of creating a story. Yikes!!)

In between the two Lamott pieces, I read Cameron's Mozart's Ghost. (I do not know where this piece fits in her body of work.) This piece is very imaginative. If I were asked to rank Lamott's Rosie against Cameron's Ghost, the latter wins. But in the absence of a personal interest, I probably would not recommend either of them to anyone.

Then again, I wouldn't likely recommend any Mary Higgins Clark, who I heard say she always knows the end point when she starts.

So, who knows what all that means!

I am impressed and excited by the developments you have described in your own novel. Whether you decided to outline or 'plot-treat' the story arc -- or just wade on -- I am sure you are going to get there. Maybe it doesn't matter whether the route is more or less direct.

Janet to John

Since I placed Lamont's Rosie behind Cameron's Mozart's Ghost, I feel it is only fair to mention -- I did find a quote in Rosie worth holding onto and perhaps sharing and there was nothing like that in Ghost. Specifically:

“You’ve just got to remember sometime you’ll be on an upswing, everything’s coming up roses, and sometimes you’ll be on a downswing, a broken heart or depression, but although you never believe it at the time, you’ll start an upswing again.” From Rosie, by Anne Lamont

While hardly a unique observation, it's a good idea to revisit often.

John to Janet

I've never read Rosie and after your remarks I probably won't. I think I've
read four books by Lamott: Bird By Bird, Hard Laughter, Operating Instructions, and Crooked Little Heart. (She produces great titles, certainly.)

The main character in Crooked Little Heart is named Rosie. I wonder if this is a younger or older version of the main character in Rosie? Crooked Little Heart is, by far, my favorite Lamott book, but I really like coming of age novels and excellent portrayals of coming of age kids.

I'm particularly fond of coming of age books about girls. Elizabeth Berg's
Durable Goods is a girl's coming of age book; it's probably nowhere near great literature, but I just love it. I've given it as a gift several times.

That was really all to say, I would recommend Crooked Little Heart, and I'd be VERY INTERESTED in knowing your reactions to it.

Janet to John

The last time we talked about Anne Lamott's work, I had just read a few pages of Hard Laughter and you were recommending Crooked Little Heart.

I have finished Hard Laughter and would recommend it without reservation. Here are my journal notes from the morning after I finished it.

Recently I’ve a spat of wee-hour sleep disruptions. Again last night, a physical frisson, a body buzz like a small electric shock, woke me. A momentary distress is made more distressful by the growing knowledge that the sensation augers a bout of late-night wakefulness.

I reached for my tiny reading light and the novel on top of my Chinese herb cabinet turned bedside table. It’s an Anne Lamott novel I’ve discovered helps me ease back to sleep. Not, however, what that sounds like.

It is not boring. Rather, it engages me at exactly the right distance: familiar but not personal. Reading it is pleasantly effortless. The vocabulary, period and culture are known. The experiences are familiar enough, yet comfortably distant from my own particular present difficulties.

Having completed Hard Laughter, I quickly located a copy of Crooked Little Heart. After all, this waking up at 3 a.m. thing could continue!

Read a few pages and can tell you now that the Rosie character in CLH is the same girl, a few years later, who lends her name to the title of the earlier novel.

Reactions will be forthcoming.

Who do you Follow? Who do you 'Friend'? -- II

2009-07-17T09:15:00.005-05:00

The mysteries of who follows you on Twitter cannot necessarily be solved by simply observing your own behavior.

Take my behavior.

I joined Twitter because I heard second or third hand I could use it to stalk my son. Oh, no, wait ... I could follow some of my kids and a handful of their friends and keep some sense of what was going on in their lives. Some sense.

Once on, I found a few other people I knew who I thought would be interesting to follow. Friends, colleagues, from my RL. And a couple of public, newsfeed-type Twitter users.

At one early point, I was notified that Barack Obama was following me. With a 'yay, sure', I reciprocated and followed him and then a bunch of other candidates for various offices. (With those particular elections long over, I've removed all of them, although -- pausing to check here -- Obama still appears to be following me. (hahaha))

In the ancient days when I joined Twitter, about 12 or 13 months ago, your user's "Home" page included a button called "Everyone" which took you to the public timeline and let you watch the entire Twitter universe float along. That button is gone and now if you want to watch that amazing tide, you have to really care and know what you are looking for. But back then, watching the public timeline would occasionally reveal someone worth following. I have a couple of people I still follow because I noticed the quality of their tweets while watching the random roll. (Janet L, Scott K -- that would be you.)

There's more, but I'm way off point.

Nothing about what I've done begins to explain the particular people who show up following me from time to time. It tooks me several months -- and a kind fellow user who deigned to answer my question -- before I figured this out. When I asked Carla (name changed to honor privacy) how she happened to start following me, she repsonded: "Auto (I've lost background Mr Tweet?) key words (philanthropy, strategic planning, etc). Not work well unfollowing often." Then I understood; I'd made some comment about poverty or charity and her bot had automatically picked me out as someone with interests in common.

In Carla's case, I don't know if we've been able to share anything useful, but at least we really do share some interests. She is not hoping to sell me something.

This week's new crop of followers are much more typical. A friend and I shared some tweetie observations that included words like 'exercise' 'weight loss' -- stuff like that. So now I have some new followers who I bet hope I'll give a follow back and buy their exercise or weight loss programs or products. Not happenin'. Not even ...

But they do make my follower numbers look better, so I guess that's something.

Who Do You Follow? Who Do You 'Friend'?

2009-07-17T08:18:00.006-05:00

and other mysteries ...

Yesterday my Facebook page offered a Friend suggestion that startled me. The name was familiar -- the husband of someone I know fairly well who is about a half-generation older than me. And, BTW, I am old!! Particularly around Facebook and Twitter.

So some ol' guy had joined Facebook.

But how the hell did Facebook have a clue we might know each other? If you have mutual FB Friends, they tell you that right away -- and we didn't. If you went to the same high school or college, particular about the same time (and your profile says so), FB knows. And they tell you THAT.

But -- I'll call him Chet -- Chet and I didn't.

In fact, I couldn't think of anything we had in common that would be captured in a FB profile.

I am fast to accept FB Friend requests from people whose names I recognize -- a little slower to accept from names I don't know but sometimes I even accept those. But I am really slow to REQUEST a Friend unless I do actually know the person in real life at least well enough to think the person will remember how we know each other, that we know each other.

I don't, for example, ask my cousins' kids to be my Facebook friends if the last time I saw the cousin was 42 years ago and I've never met the kid!

I wasn't so sure that Chet would recognize me. Or wish to be my FB Friend.

But I had to know how FB made the connection. Was it simply that we were both in the Chicago network? That's a stretch. Of course, sometimes I think that is enough of a connection for Facebook to take a stab at it.

So, I requested Chet's FB Friendship, reminding him of how we know each other. He accepted. And I got to look at his Facebook page and profile.

Bingo!

The email address he listed for Facebook is shared with his wife and appears in my email contact list.

But there is something spooky about that. A long time ago when I joined Facebook, I did allow Facebook to search my email contact list for matches.

But it only now occurs to me FB retained that info and is using it. Yikes!

Back to Bird -- Reading or Rereading

2009-07-09T16:41:00.008-05:00

Not long ago, I was involved in a poetry event. The leader was demonstrating the way a particular poem evolved from good to better to outstanding. He finished up by quoting a writer friend of his: "It's all about the process."

A day or two later, a writer friend of my own said something about his process. When I whined -- just slightly -- that I didn't 'get' all this process talk, he asked if I'd read Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird.

I thought I probably had, but, not certain and not finding it in my own considerable library, I headed over to the new Half Price Books in my neighborhood and picked up a copy. Indeed, as I read or re-read, some parts of the book were completely familiar while other parts seemed altogether new. I expect certain chapters were published as excerpts in some magazine I read or passed out in a class somewhere.

On the familiar hand, Lamott's advice about "shitty first drafts" has been shared widely, was and continues to be about the most useful advice a writer can encounter. Paraphrasing in brief: write without concern about the quality; it's a draft, you don't have to share it until you are happy with the result.

But parts that were new were recognizable the way your own experience is recognizable. She talks about how writing makes your own life feel bigger, richer. I remember discovering that for myself in my early teens when a treasured friend moved away. Writing letters to her, just telling her about the ordinary things her old friends were up to, helped me see the golden glow of all those wonderful, adolescent dramas. Keeping a diary had a similar effect on my perceptions.

Much later in the book, Lamott comments that writing takes you out of yourself, which just might be the defining requirement for achieving happiness. These two ideas almost seem to contradict each other. Writing can make your own life seem bigger, more dramatic or meaningful; yet writing can get you out of yourself. It’s interesting to think about that.

Although Lamott does not make a distinction between creative and expository writing, much of what she has to say is specific to fiction or narrative. When her topic is character, setting, dialogue or plot, the subject is storytelling. But writer’s block and all manner of insecurity and doubt can assail both the novelist and the journalist. And Lamott is comedic and masterful on these writerly universals.

I don't recall getting this from Anne Lamott, but she advocates ‘tiny assignments’ and giving myself very tiny 'assignments' works for me. "Write a possible opening paragraph." "Write a few sentences about intuition.” “Work out transitions between drafted paragraphs.” I mean, I can focus down to just getting one sentence the way I want it. It won't make you a fast or prolific writer, but it can keep you writing. This, at times, is enough.

So, yes, I’ve read and reread Anne Lamott’s 15-year-old classic, Bird by Bird and gone on to recommend it far and wide: Readworthy Books, Revisiting a Classic.

Photos from Kahekili

2009-06-19T13:07:00.005-05:00

Last week when I posted my description of our exciting ride from Kapalua to Wailuka (Maui, Hawaii), some people urged me to post pictures. Here are the best of the few I took. Then, below, is a link to some professional shots.

Here's Ellie Crowe's take on the story, with photos by William Crowe, Ron Dahlquist and Nina Lee, http://www.nokaoimagazine.com/Features/Vol13%20No3/Kahakuloa_journey.html at Maui No Ka 'Oi, http://www.mauimagazine.net/

The Road from Kapalua to Waihe'e

2009-06-13T13:20:00.016-05:00

Lee and I are exploring the Hawaiian island of Maui this week. Day before yesterday in the morning, we headed off from our amazing resort digs on the southern stretch of the west coast intending to explore two towns north and further west. We'd understood these places represented some history, but they were resort towns, mostly duplicating the features of any contemporary beach resort.

Continuing north and rounding the northern coast headed east, I thought I'd treat my mate to a scenic coastal drive. The Kahekili Highway follows the shoreline for about twenty-five miles. But we use the expression 'highway' very loosely here.

To the friends who advised us that Maui was touristy and commercial, we're making book you missed Route 340, also known as Kahekili.

As we continued north and east, the roadway narrowed and wound past spectacular views and glorious breakers. The sides of the road were parked solid and rock beaches below were full of families, couples and groups.
Then gradually the road twisted and narrowed. When a sign warned of winding, challenging passage for the next 17 miles, I noted my odometer: something-73; we should complete the demanding stretch at something-90. And nothing seemed too overwhelming yet – more primitive than we’ve seen in a long time, but do-able.
By something-79, however, my mate was beginning to ask how much longer this would be taking, in between ohhs and ahhs at the scenery.
Then about something-81, the roadway narrowed again, now barely as wide as my car, with a steep drop to my left. Meeting a car coming from the other way would mean driving backward in reverse on this path. I couldn’t see around the next curve but could clearly see the same narrow passage on the hillside across from me.
As I decided we’d come as far as we dared, my companion developed determination. So, at his prompting, I moved forward, slowly, carefully, hands in a death grip. For the next 45 minutes, we inched along, timing movements so we hit wider patches as we approached cars coming the other way. Luckily these switchbacks do allow drivers to spot one another well in advance of the meeting.
At about something-88, we greeting a companion headed the other way: “How long until we reach something resembling a regular roadway?” “Oh, just a couple more miles,” he laughingly confirmed my original calculations.
Unfortunately, in our family, the driver that morning is also the primary photographer and, at least on a first pass, I couldn’t manage much picture taking. I would be posting a couple of shots which don’t come close to doing justice to this very special trip, except I am posting from a public computer and find no slot for my media card -- oh, well, not a big loss.
And despite my deep sigh of relief when we were again on an ol’ ordinary street, I’d be off again for a slower, more photo-oriented pass – if I could convince one of you to come along.

Chain, chain, chain; chain of love

2009-06-04T18:38:00.004-05:00

This morning I found two chain e-letters sitting in my email in-box.

Each was sent by someone dear to me and each asks me to send the item on to others. Both convey powerful, worthy messages. In one case, the piece indicates that, by sending it on, I will help maintain vigilance against radical human cruelty, certainly an appeal that gets my attention.

But each creates a dilemma for me.

Back in the earlier days of the internet, I used to get lots of chain e-mails claiming to convey good luck. These emails would come from some friend or acquaintance, often apologizing while explaining that he or she really needed the promised luck. The letter would either offer good luck in portion to your forwarding behavior or threat bad luck for failure to forward – or both! I hated these things and tried to resist the superstitious compulsion they inspired.

Then a young friend, wise beyond her years, sent me a ‘chain letter to end all chain letters.’ It purported to be a talisman again bad luck arising from chain letters. It stated that, from that day forward, I was categorical protected from chain-letter-bad-luck and free to do anything I chose with email chain letter without fear of consequences. The letter itself said to feel free to forward the ‘chain letter to end all chain letters’ – or not; totally up to me.

Incredibly liberating!

After that, I would occasionally get a chain letter that offered something worth sharing. If I wanted to share it, first I would copy and paste what I liked, deleting all nonsense about how the sender should send it on to 1 person for 1 day of luck, 2 people for 2 days of luck – or whatever the gambit was.

But I digress, for neither of today’s missives appeals to my good/bad luck superstitions. Yet, as I said, each creates a dilemma for me.

I know a lot of people and I have lots of email addresses. But I cannot name even a handful I am confident will welcome these letters. I am sort of a ‘permission marketing’ type; if my audience hasn’t volunteered to BE my audience, I hesitate to foist a message. I guess because I am not happy to be asked to forward these items, I cannot imagine my contacts will be any happier. So, what to do?

Well, I am not going to forward the emails.

I’m going to do this. One of them has a medium length quotation worth sharing and I will post it on my Facebook where FB Friends can read it if they like, at their leisure and under no duress to pass it on.

The other – the one with the ‘vigilance against man inhumanity to man’ message I will check carefully for copyright issues and, if there are none, I will share it here sooner or later.

And what do you do with e-chain-letters?

Coriander vs. Cilantro

2009-05-25T13:43:00.011-05:00

The other day my son sent up a tweet indicating he'd just learned that coriander and cilantro are the same thing. To me: surprise (how'd I fail him!) and memory trigger.

The first time I wondered about the connection between coriander and cilantro, I was following a recipe from a cookbook with some regional slant. It called for one of them and offered a useless 'clarification'. So, say, it read like this: coriander (cilantro) -- or the other way around.

Unless you already know what the connection is, that parenthetical sends you off on a research jaunt. Even if you've used both coriander and cilantro before. No, sorry, particularly if you've used them both before.

Most cooks -- and I include here anyone required by circumstance to do more than boil an occasional egg or reheat something in the micro -- first encounter coriander as an ingredient in pumpkin pie or gingerbread; thus, it is associated with clove, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, stuff like that. Then again, the other common use for coriander is in curries, in which case it seems to go with cumin and chilies as well as several of the previously mentioned items. What we usually call coriander is purchased in jars, as a ground power; it comes from the seeds of the plant.

Cilantro, by contrast, often comes to our attention nowadays in salsas, although I first discovered it when I was served seviche. Though apparently not a defining ingredient, all the seviches I encountered in Central American in the 1960s carried the distinct and recognizable favor of cilantro. Sort of a cross between citrus and soap. As many people do, I found it took some getting used to, but once I'd acquired the taste, I was hooked. You might be amazed how much cilantro I go through in my kitchen. You buy it in the produce section, between the parsley and the watercress.

Never -- and we are talking decades here -- had I made any connection between the two items until that fateful cookbook and I crossed paths.

The next part of this story requires some -- excuse the expression -- back story. See, growing up I was pretty interested in food and, by extension, cooking. Similarly, I did such things as: learn to sew, dust and vacuum like a dynamo, change more than a few diapers, practice planting a garden and develop significant typing skills. I bet you can see where that’s going!

Fast forward to life in the city as a liberated woman: assuming the bank account will support it, I pay to have my skirts shortened, my house cleaned, all my vegetables trucked in from elsewhere. I prefer my parties catered. And god forbid anyone discover I can type!

So, while my family-of-origin believes I'm a crackerjack cook, it doesn't surprise me when my family-of-procreation sneers at my domestic and distaff skills. Hey, my bad -- or maybe not even.

Add to that a few ethnic issues (blog for another day) and some subtle problems involving blended families, and we find my cooking cred with the people I sometimes call 'my kids' was and remains low, low, very low.

So the next chapter makes perfect sense.

Having a female teen-ager in the household at the time, I must have shared my coriander-cilantro discovery with that likely candidate. A few days later, I was informed that I was ... misinformed. “Faye said coriander and cilantro are not related.” Faye -- another Mom in the neighborhood, but also model-beautiful Jewess possessed of the first and only Sub-zero frig I've ever seen in a residential kitchen. Well, what do you know.

I know I didn't crack open my Joy of Cooking, 1967 edition, to page 531, where the connection is actually explained. Nor did I attempt to persuade in anyway. And anyone who has had a teen-age step-daughter will understand my thinking there.

Faye and I, of course, talked about it a few days later and laughed when she realized the connection.

But I somehow forgot to tell the boys!

Spring has Sprung, Midden Arrives

2009-05-09T14:48:00.005-05:00

It is spring clean-up week-end in my neighborhood. Excuse me! I mean it is our annual Spring Clean-Up Program weekend. Each year in April and May, our town schedules a series of special, free Saturday garbage collection days with different areas of town assigned to different Saturdays.

For about a week before your Saturday, your neighbors start setting junk out on their curbs. An amazing variety of debris bubbles up out of basements, rolls out of attics and floats out of garages. The sidewalks and parkways become littered with two-by-fours and broken trellises, porcelain toilet bowls and defunct Shop-Vacs. Mattresses and cushions and pads of all descriptions are piled about. Last night on the way to dinner, I spotted a garish green tarp appropriate for sheltering a Cormac McCarthy character. That, along with half a set of TV trays on their stand looking incomplete but solid. Recently acceptable furnishings mix with perfectly useless scree.

The result makes the entire area look at bit like a midden for a few days, distracting painfully from the seasonal glory of newly leafing trees and brushes and bursting blossoms in every direction.

My neighborhood usually gets assigned to Mothers’ Day Saturday. And in my family, two family birthdays also fall right around Mothers’ Day. So I am usually planning to entertain on Mothers’ Day Sunday. As the refuse and detritus accumulates, I send up silent fretful prayers to the village demigods not to fail the Saturday promise. I really don’t want my guests confronted by my neighbors’ mounts of trash.

The flotsam and jetsam attract an odd fleet of vehicles. As the day approaches, scavengers prowl in their dilapidated but business-like pick-ups, trucking off a good deal of the truck. I welcome these wily and perhaps wise operators, who seem to know how to salvage all that is useful in these piles of debris. The idea that someone can put the stuff to use pleases me quite a lot.

Mostly. But I had one melancholy moment in the midst of this annual event. Glancing out my window yesterday, I noticed an old, battered, dull-burgundy van parked at my curb; looking closer I could see a bent little old man and woman picking through the already picked-over heap on the parkway across my street. I wish I could believe they would find what they need.

25 Random Things

2009-01-29T13:37:00.007-06:00

This sort of thing looks a little self-absorbed, but I did it at the prompting of someone I care about. [I was 'tagged.'] Now that it is done, I might as well post it here, for whatever it is worth.

[Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you.]

1. I have powerful mixed reactions to a task like this. I can anticipate all the tendencies that will slow me down, particularly the perfectionist part of me.

2. I analyze things to the n-th. In a task like this, I am likely to say one thing about myself and then note (at least mentally) all the supporting and contradicting evidence.

3. I am just about the world’s worst speller. Spellcheck has been my salvation. (Ah! My spellchecker doesn’t recognize the word ‘spellcheck’!)

4. As a toddler and pre-schooler, I lived in a tiny village and started school in a rural, two-room schoolhouse. (It would have been a one-room schoolhouse if I were just a year older.)

5. I always think of red as my favorite color … followed very closely by burnt orange. (Sorry, Sara.)

6. Truth is, I love interesting and unusual combinations of colors. I had a friend once who would get almost orgasmic when she saw pink combined with various shades of green. I completely understood what she was experiencing.

7. I am interested in and responsive to most human endeavors and activities, more so than I believe most people are.

8. Two exceptions to #7: spectator sports on TV (although I enjoy watching sporting events live) and TV sit. coms.

9. I love going to the movies. When the lights go down and the title comes up, every care and concern of my day-to-day life disappears.

10. Same thing when I teach! I mean, as soon as I begin the lesson, everything else in my life disappears.

11. I spent much of my childhood playing in forests and fields and I am completely at home in rural settings.

12. I’ve lived all of my adult life (since age 21) in and around cities. I am completely at home in urban settings.

13. I am really pleased that I’ve drafted half of these in about an hour. But I know I’ll need to take a break, refresh my coffee, maybe work-out and shower. And even when I get to 25, I’ll still have to type these into Word and spellcheck and proof about three times, after which I’ll post them, spot a typo. I missed, copy, delete, correct and repost.

14. I am promising myself, despite #13, I will finish this.

15. I see and understand a lot of things through the lens of economic theory and economic analogies. Case in point: a friend and I have been exploring the need for solitude and if I weren’t working on this list, I’d be writing about the marginal trade-offs involved in the needs for solitude and companionship.

16. I expected to give birth to daughters. (If you know me, you know I did not.)

17. At various points in my childhood, I planned to be 1) a ballerina (like just about every other little girl), 2) an acrobat and 3) the wife of a farmer. The third persisted the longest.

18. Like someone else whose ’25 list’ I read recently, I have a love-hate relationship with exercise.

19. My personal experience bears out this idea: the thing that most draws you to your mate is inseparable from the thing about him/her that most annoys you.

20. I was born on Easter Sunday and, due to a calendar process I’ve never completely figured out, my birthday seems to fall on Easter Sunday whenever the 2 digits in my age are the same (i.e. 11, 22, 33, etc.)

21. I love techie stuff and gadgets. In that, I take after my Dad.

22. I am drawn to things like time-and-motion studies, ‘therligs’, systems and methods. Both my Mom and my Dad were, too.

23. I do not have the normal complement of facial sinuses. I am missing a couple of them. (Can’t remember exactly which ones just now.)

24. Oh! I am left-handed.

25. I am amazed at how many more of these items are floating through my head. I don’t think I’ve even touched the ‘goal’ part. I guess those ‘100 random things’ lists aren’t as impossible as I’d imagined.

Environmental Damage, Gym-Style

2009-01-26T11:43:00.003-06:00

In 'my' gym, you could walk on a treadmill while watching activity on the bayside of South Beach. The view consisted of palm trees wafting in the breeze, aqua and purple rippling water, docked pleasure boats and plowing work vessels, ivory and eggshell toned buildings in the distance backed by an endless baby blue sky.

Working out there was a lot like meditating.

But recently the gym got an upgrade. Now my view consists of a TV screen up close and personal. I can’t see around it, but I can set it to any channel I choose. I've picked the option of my face in a soft focus mirror; that is to say, I've turned the damn thing off.

Who said, "Take paradise, put up parking lot"?

Mustang Sally

2009-01-17T19:42:00.004-06:00

Doing the annual Deco Walk on Saturday, I enjoyed the antique cars most. As usual. Something that might surprise my adult-acquired, urban-oriented friends: I grew up loving cars. Still do.

Someone Asked Me ...

2009-01-10T19:17:00.005-06:00

Dianne, you originally asked something like how Lee (my husband) and I happen to travel around so much. We are largely retired and travel is Lee's big hobby. Lee was a sales representative for a NC textile mill for over 30 years. When he was working, traveling abroad was the only way he could really get a break. When we'd vacation in the states, he'd end up on the phone with partners and clients about half the day every day. He developed the skills to plan and organize international trips. I just get to go along for the ride.

Miami, on the other hand, has been our break from Chicago winters for a number of years now.

I'll get into the family and offspring stuff soon.

_____________

Ok, life story stuff -- After college, I moved to the Chicago area, where I've lived ever since. I married and divorced in my 20s without having any children.

I met Lee on my 31st birthday (although it was a few months before we started dating) and married him on my 33rd. He had a daughter, Jennifer, and a son, William, from a previous marriage. Together we have a son, John, now 28-years-old.

Lee's daughter lives in San Antonio, TX; she is married with two children.

Bill lives in Madison, WI and John in Washington, DC. Bill is a tennis pro and sports club manager. John is a political free lance writer. Bill has not married, at least not yet. John is currently separated. Neither one has children.

That's a sketch of the offspring part of my life story.

__________

Dianne, you mentioned a brother and a sister. I also have one brother and one sister. Are you, like me, the oldest of three?

Both my brother and my sister returned to Joplin and settled there after living elsewhere for a few years. My brother John is a successful executive in human resources, now with Leggett and Platt. My sister, who is named Diane, has had a lot of struggles, although I assume that is not how she would tell her life story. Both of them and their children are significant in my life. Two of my brother's kids actually settled in Chicago, so I get to see them regularly.

My Dad passed away at the very end of 1994. Mom and Dad lived in Joplin until then. A few years later, my Mom re-connected with a Joplin high school classmate, was blessed with a new love, married and moved to a suburb of St. Louis with her new husband.

I was NOT bored by your story. Hope I am not boring you! If/when I write more, I should probably tell you a little about my own career.

Peace

2008-12-19T15:02:00.000-06:00

"It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work.

It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart. "

(source unknown)

I like this a lot and it speaks to me right now. I hope I am not violating anyone's ownership rights by reproducing it here.

A Short One Worth Sharing

2008-12-02T18:42:00.000-06:00

A very young (think 19) friend of mine was walking out of a mall last week as a lady (think 32) walked in. Young spots great footwear and calls to lady, "I love your boots! Where did you get them?"

Lady smiles, grabs her chest and trills, "Thanks so much! Dr. Lehman. Most people wouldn't ask."

Second Favorite Holiday Has Come ... and Gone

2008-11-27T14:25:00.000-06:00

Table set and ready -- food nowhere in sight.

Ah, the food arrives.

That's our favorite foodie, handling the craving knife.

Everyone had plenty to eat.

The Red Silk Dress

2008-11-22T14:28:00.000-06:00

Memories!

The bride’s dress featured a very large crème-with-a-touch-of-tea satin bow and long-to-the-floor sashes. It reminded me of one of my high school ball gowns. I leaned close to my mother to speak over the pounding music.

“Her dress reminds me of the one with the huge lavender bow you made me. Do you remember it?”

“Yes. Do you remember we got the idea from a picture in a Kotex ad?”

“Not at all,” I laughed. “Did that bother you?”

“Not much. The one that bothered me was the red silk. Do you remember that dress?”

“Of course. Vividly. I’ve written something about that dress.”

“I thought you looked so cute. Then one of your boyfriends said you looked pregnant in it. I felt awful.”

I watched her face for several distinct seconds and then I knew. “You don’t remember the rest of the story, do you, Mom?”

“Was there a ‘rest of the story’?”

“You took care of that.”

“I’m so glad to hear I did something right. What did I do?”

The noise was way too loud to continue what was going to be a long-ish story.

“Too noisy. I’ll write it for you.”

Here’s the story.

Back story first? Ok. Dresses and outfits, designs, sewing, tailoring. Around such matters my Mom and I bonded without reservation. Most garments started with an occasion – lead in a junior high play, balls and proms, drama and speech contests.

It had to be spring, 1962. Me, 15, turning 16. The dress was more justified than initiated. I always needed an Easter outfit, but that was not the central thrust. It was a bolt of silk that set the thing in motion. Small bouquets of blue and yellow daises on a ground of fire engine red. Maybe a touch intense for a spring Sunday dress, but irresistible.

Yard for yard, the price was high – but she agreed to it.

Then we looked at dress patterns. That year something high waisted was in fashion. Not the Empire line that creates a sleek front panel, but a dirndl-like skirt gathered just below the bust.

Between checking the fit and taking the length for the hem, I didn’t see the finished dress again until Easter morning. Mom brought it to my room and we checked it with the shoes. Standing in front of the mirror, I winced. “Mom, do you think the dress makes me look … fat?”

I didn’t really mean ‘fat’ but I couldn’t say what was on my mind.

“Oh, no. You look adorable!”

Although I left the mirror uneasy, when I couldn’t see the design of the dress, the shimmer and slip of the fabric reassured me. Completely.

Coming out of church a few hours later, David DeTar walked me to my parents’ car. David was more of a friend boy than a boyfriend, but I think that morning we were entertaining the idea of a date. When the conversation flagged, I grabbed the next thought that popped into my head.

“So, how do you like my new dress?”

“It’s cute, nice color,” he offered. Then the zinger. “Makes you look like you’re going to have a baby.”

I swiveled around to see if Mom could hear. Sliding in the car, I asked, “Did you hear what David said? He said I look pregnant in this dress.”

“Mom, can we alter it?” I asked even though I already knew at 15, going on 16, how unforgiving silk is.

“I doubt it,” my mother looked perturbed. I figured she was thinking about how much money we’d spent on this dress I was not going to want to wear. So, in the five block drive from the church to our home, I worked on getting my mind around the situation.

By the time we were home, I could calmly say, “Oh, well, I’m not pregnant and everyone will know that when I don’t get any bigger.”

I hung the dress up and went on with the day and then the week. But late that week, Mom said she wanted to check the fit on something she was sewing. Out came a dress – red silk, shirtwaist bodice, slim skirt, distinct waistline with a self-belt.

I couldn’t see how this dress could have been made from the earlier one, but just to check, I asked, “So, what did you do with the other dress?”

“Oh, I gave it to a young married friend of mine who’s pregnant. She was delighted.”

What is This Thing Called Marriage?

2008-11-17T11:04:00.000-06:00

Well over one thousand legal issues change when you change your marital status – just within the realm of the U.S. government. Who knew!

For that matter, why would I know?

Shortly after our early November election, affiliation logos started popping up on Facebook friends’ pages for something called “Overturn Prop 8.”

Just in case this slipped passed you, dear reader, the recent election included a ballot initiative for Californians, calling for the addition of these words to that state’s constitution: “Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognize in California.” Surprising to many including yours truly, the initiative, referred to as ‘Prop 8,’ was successful.

I have long been a casual supporter of same sex marriage or at least the equivalent. So my inclination was to sign on and add that logo to my Facebook page. But first, I said to myself, perhaps I should think about my position more carefully and try to understand the opposition. That’s just good editorial behavior, right?

I myself regard a marriage as a rather complex contractual relationship between two people, quite apart from any rights and obligations a government attaches to the deal. I know a marriage is a personal, emotional, social and legal relationship; for many, it also involves a religious sacrament.

Two adults marry to create a home, insure companionship, probably establish exclusivity in sexual relations and, likely, make a nest for nurturing offspring. Nowadays, partners may actually discuss how they will divvy up tasks like making a living and making the beds.

And the state recognizes these contracts, giving them a lot of legal support. The state doesn’t require that the two people have children. The state doesn’t even require evidence that the two people wish to or can have children. So, on the face of it, it doesn’t appear that the existence or potential existence of offspring accounts for the state smiling on marrying couples. (Note I said, ‘doesn’t appear.’)

So if we can hold aside the sex and kid issues for a moment, we are talking about two people partnering up to share the adult tasks of making a living and making a home.

Frankly, that’s a pretty good arrangement. It improves the social and financial stability of the partners. Good for both partners, good for the society as a whole.

On the other hand, it would seem that two people could partner up pretty successfully without the legal bonds of marriage.

So, we actually face two questions: Why do same sex couples feel the desire to have their relationships defined legally as marriages? What’s the big deal?

And, then again, why does anyone object?

It’s all about that whole host of legal rights, privileges, responsibilities and obligations that accrue when two people marry. Many of those rights have to do with what the two partners owe each other; many could plausibly be established by a private contract between the partners. Many others, however, involve rights and benefits provided by governments or enforced on third parties for the benefit of the marital partners.

In the second category, for example: a spouse surviving the death of his or her partner has numerous survivorship rights which the spouse who earned the benefit cannot assign to a non-spouse. In the absence of a surviving spouse, the benefit simply disappears. Most pension survivorship benefits operate this way. Similarly, an employer who provides health insurance for employee and spouse must, by law, provide for continuation of coverage for a surviving spouse if the employee passes away.

That’s not the whole story, but it is plenty to explain why any pair-bond, any couple, would want the advantages of legal marriage.

And why does anyone object?

This is trickier to explain and often gets reduced to things that sound like nonsense to many of us: protecting marriage, protecting the concept of marriage. Huh? Occasionally the arguments slip-slide into pronouncements that “Heather has Two Mommies” will become required reading in public school second grade classes everywhere. Oh, please; easily addressed!

Here’s what I think is really going on: many of those rights and privileges were enacted into law to support not marriage per se but to support the bearing and rearing of children. At any one point in time, most adults are married but most are not in the active phase of bearing and rearing children. Politically, you can enact legislation supporting people who bear and rear children a lot easier if you simply attach the support to marriage. (I could even make the argument that, given the opportunity costs associated with raising children, it is fair and reasonable to create rights for potential and actual parents that span a lifetime – but I’d rather finish this post than write a book.)

So, the fact is, as our society works its way through the haystack of legalities associated with marriage, we’ll be forced to do a lot of work! We’ll have to revisit and clarify what responsibilities and benefits correctly arise from the fact that two adults have supported and cared for one another for years and what ones more correctly arise from the fact that a person parented children.

I’m good with that. Let’s go.

[A few of dings I’d like to head off: I do know that marriages are made by states, Federal law currently will not recognize same sex marriages even if a state endorses them, only two states currently allow for same sex marriage and Illinois (my state, where I hear some of my neighbors saying very disparaging things about Californians for supporting Prop 8) cannot even get a bill out of committee if it concerns the legal status of same sex pair bonds.]

Help Your Local School -- SO Easy!

2008-11-11T22:02:00.000-06:00
The other day, a neighbor on my Freecycle listserv told me her kid was collecting these:

She asked everyone to help him collect them. I didn't think I'd find any, but what the hey. Couldn't hurt to check. Pulled the old Cheerios box out of the recycling bin and, whatdaya know, there it was. So I flipped over the Kleenex box on my desk. Bingo again!

Into the kitchen drawers, the pantry -- more and more!

These coupons are worth cash to your local school. Check it out if you have a doubt: Box Tops 4 Education. Then check your cabinets.

Surfing the Blogs Just to See ...

2008-11-11T07:59:00.000-06:00
This is amazing. I wish I'd thought to do something like it. Hard to go back and recreate.

Diego Golberg's Arrows of Time

Grandma's Diaries, revisited

2008-11-10T19:43:00.000-06:00
Two messages in response to Grandma’s Diaries arrived via email. After checking back with the writers, I am so sharing these!

Jan,

If you don't want another generation to read about your thoughts and days, writing in a diary and retaining it over the years seems unwise. I suspect Grandmother, if she considered the matter, would have wished for this very thoughtful, scholarly, now adult granddaughter, to inherit and treasure the diaries. And, she would be pleased to know you enjoy them. It's as if she sometimes looks out from those pages and smiles that wistful smile of hers, isn't it?

I suspect she'd be pleased, and perhaps a tad embarrassed, that you're now sharing her days with Julie, Frieda, and Trisha. The Texas girls came and spent whole summer weeks at her house. She might wish you hadn't cited the day when John stormed or was cocky, but then again, she recorded what she saw and left it for you, didn't she?

It's really lovely that you have the diaries and like them so much. These are like late-arriving gifts-- from her to you, and now you to her. Thank you so much for sharing some of it. I loved it.

Thank you,

John Hale

Janet, I loved the pieces you selected from the diaries. Did you know that Semper was Paul and Chockey’s dog? Grandma and Grandpa brought her to us when we moved from an upstairs duplex in Orange to a house. Maybe we couldn’t have her in the duplex?? I was too young to remember her until we moved to the house. From photos I know she was with us in Tucson while Paul was in law school. Thanks for sharing.
Trick or Treat, Frieda

Off to Atlanta with Another Janet

2008-11-08T13:46:00.000-06:00

One day I was trying to figure out some little Twitter.com idiosyncrasy. The total question is complicated and digressive, but in the course of studying the problem, I bounced from tab to tab, often returning to “Everyone” or the public feed.

As I opened the public feed yet again, a message came up from Damnit_Janet. Felt like I’d just slapped myself. I mean, that’s what I mutter when I do something dumb or cannot solve some little puzzle I believe should be easy.

I was mesmerized. I added Damnit_Janet to my ‘Following’ list. I tried to get a Tweet directly to her but that isn’t so easy if the person isn't ‘following’ you.

So, Damnit_Janet’s been entertaining me with her sparky, funny Tweets for days. I just hope if she eventually notices my name on her ‘Followers’ list, she doesn’t just block me out.

(You'd enjoy them, too, but you'll have to go ask the other Janet -- )

Meanwhile, my rl friends are probably at plays or conferences or panel discussions, but my alter-ego is off to Atlanta for the Roller Derby!

Rollin' in Atlanta as we speak

Playing out the Race Card

2008-11-05T16:23:00.000-06:00

To set up a blog in October of 2008 and then let the election of November 4, 2008, pass without comment would be … a bad decision. So!

We are redeemed.

Without question, the biggest stain on, the most troubling hypocrisy of our nation’s history is this: we (or more literally, some of our ancestors) attempted to establish a new nation under the principles of the Enlightenment while compromising to accommodate slavery.

For over two centuries, the resulting contradiction has plagued us. It has distorted our fundamental desire to honor merit. Often, it has made our hopes for a just and free society seem like nothing but nonsense.

Perhaps we could not have established anything without that compromise. Perhaps two centuries of struggle were a historic necessity. Perhaps.

And perhaps we are done.

Barack Obama was not my candidate of choice, for several reasons. None of them concern race. Had Colin Powell agreed to run top or second on either ticket at any point in his career, I would have been as enthusiastic a supporter as Obama’s supporters are now.

But in US elections, regardless of who you favor, when the results are in, the President is your President. And I will be thrilled to call Barack Obama my President, too.

Let us all do everything within our power to make his a successful Presidency.

[And let’s keep working on the gender card, too.]

Watching the Results

2008-11-04T10:59:00.000-06:00

This is the part of elections I like best: the results part.

If you, too, like following the results blow by blow, you might enjoy using this guide: http://spectator.org/archives/2008/11/04/xxx

(You are allowed to ignore the sidebars, etc. That's called "focus.")

Halloween!!

2008-11-01T09:45:00.000-05:00

Magritte sky --- and getting our colors on.

Goblins in motion.

Left-overs, anyone? --- plezzz!

Sympathy for Jennifer Hudson and her family

2008-10-29T14:23:00.000-05:00

When you read this story, you won’t wonder why I’ve been remembering the fall of ’02.

I was teaching, as I did for years. A young woman missed the first class, but showed up for the second – not unusual in community college extension programs. As with each student, I asked her to tell us why she was taking the class and what she hoped to accomplish. She was, she explained, working in a beauty shop; the owner was interested in leaving the business and she was trying to decide if she could and should buy the operation from him.

It was probably the third class, her second evening with us, when we got to a unit on time management and personal discipline. She commanded the floor: “I know I am responsible for making my own success. We all are. And I am going to make something important out of my life. I owe that to myself and to my family.”

Teaching entrepreneurship, it was my responsibility to be encouraging, but also realistic. I studied this face which defied conventional beauty: a large back-sloping forehead and prominent mouth framed a small well-molded nose and dark, elegant almond eyes. Something confident and determined showed in her unusual but pretty face.

“Yes,” I said, “I believe you will.”

The next week she was not in class. I asked Steven, her classmate and friend, if he'd talked to her in the intervening week.

“Disney's holding auditions in the city. I think she was going to go try-out,” he offered.

Knowing only that she had experience in a beauty shop, I am sure I looked puzzled.

“Oh, you haven’t heard her sing. That girl has an amazing voice,” he explained.

In the coming weeks, I left messages for her, updates on assignments and adjustments in the class schedule, hoping she would return. Of course, she never did.

It was not until January, ‘07 that I saw her again. I’d seen that confidence and determination for myself. But in a Miami, FL movie theater, I watched Jennifer Hudson demonstrate what Steven had told me but I’d only half believed: that girl has an amazing voice!

Grandma’s Diaries

2008-10-24T19:17:00.000-05:00

The words march across the pages in varying colors of ink, in a penmanship unremarkable for either beauty or clarity. For each day, over a period of sixteen years, she recorded about five handwritten lines summarizing her key memories of that day: sometimes the weather, activities, sometimes meals eaten, friends visited or called, games of canasta or bridge, shots, colds, flues. Mostly ordinary, occasionally not quite ordinary and sometimes utterly intriguing. Sometimes the intrigue is in what I – her granddaughter – know is missing; sometimes the intrigue is in what is said but never delved.

As I read, I try to discern whether she wrote each evening or each morning or in some less routine pattern that nevertheless creates the image of a daily habit. I tend to believe it was the last – that she filled in her days as she found spare moments.

---

She filled her days.

November 15 (The year is 1948, but she has not yet begun to note the year.) “Housework & to town to get caught up on shopping brot home supplies & got supper Bot sheets for Olive & some for us plus some duds for grand children. Letters to the kids.”

November 12 “1950 Sun. To S.S. & church. Took my turn at opening exercises. Napped & tried to get rested for another week’s work.”

We ‘grand children’ always knew about grandma keeping a diary. She used to give me those little books of blank pages when I was a girl; now I don’t know if she thought diary keeping was our special bond or if all of my cousins got diaries as gifts. I’ll have to ask those cousins sometime.

May 14 “1951 Mon. Handwashing, cleaning up house Helped Forbes set out plants & bulbs We called Paul about coming home for the summer. Hot bath & to bed exhausted.”

But I must have been the one most engaged, because at her death I was the only one who asked for the diaries. My uncle, her youngest and dearest, hesitated. My father told me: “Paul will read the diaries first. Maybe then you can have them; maybe not.”

No doubt her discretion even in her private records accounts for my having the records at all. When a week-long spousal disruption is reduced to “Less said, sooner healed.” we know we are not in the era of ‘letting it all hang out.’

In my 59th year, sorting out old, old photos, I got her diaries out to locate the date of one event. And did the V-8 head bang as I realized she started this practice in her 59th year. So I read, day by day, what my grandmother did on the day corresponding to this day in my life.

May 6 “1950 Sat. To Beauty Shop. To town in evening Carrol and Olive here a few minutes. Got black bag. Car in garage.”

May 7 “1950 Sun. To S.S. and Church. Man in charge of rural churches preached. To farm in P.M. took C & O & Semper.”

For me, of course, Carrol and Olive and Semper have meaning: great Uncle and Aunt and the red cocker spaniel dog, Semper Fidelis.

June 15 “1952 Sun. 101* To church children day. Had program in basement. Took drive in late p.m. to Bedford & to see country around Gran(unreadable) & N.M. & Northeast of Clarinda. To Hotel for dinner. J.E. sour – too much intelligensia (sic) there.”

Ah, now there’s a bit.

Maybe my Uncle got tired of reading … or perhaps he decided I could handle the idea that my grandparents weren’t perfect. I’ll never know because an automobile accident took Paul in the early 90s.

May 7 “Fri 1954 Cold, below freezing again last nite. JE late to farm waiting on phone call, feeling very cocky after telling me off. Planted first of the Glads, 2 doz from Tidy House Products. To bed early.”

January 26 “Wed 1955 JE in a ‘towering rage’ cussed & fumed etc. Doesn’t like the way we live (neither do I but more sense than to cuss about it). Snowing & very cold. Ate humble pie in interests of peace.”

April 7 “Sun 1963 Admired Chandalier Bill installed, just beautiful! Late breakfast. Visiting then to Coachman’s Inn for dinner. All left for homes – Felt we had a wonderful visit. Merle pulled tooth for Diane. Gave Ed a card & $5.00 To our church for evening lenten services. Almes preached on John.”

___

My twenty-five-year-old son reads over a half dozen entries and concludes: “She had a boring life.” Perhaps it helps to be the age she was, for what I see isn’t boredom. I see comfort in the peace of pattern and familiarity. That, giving healthy ballast against moments here and there of pain and confusion, dissatisfaction. Life.

A House Divided?

2008-10-24T10:43:00.000-05:00

Starting Out All Over Again

2008-10-18T14:53:00.000-05:00
This first post is an experiment. I am simply learning how to use the blog I am setting up.

Tiddlywinks and Pick-up Sticks

Let me tell you about Charlie Brown (a true Joplin hero)

***************

Support Charlie Brown of Joplin

Third Try Does the Trick! (Ok, unofficially)

Helping Restore of a Treasured Joplin Park

Seeing It

Close Calls

The Question I Cannot Ask

Here's a word barely worth knowing: coruscate. (Vocabulary 2011-4)

A Word with No Definition? (Vocabulary 2011-3)

Everything Old is New Again ( Vocab. 2011-2)

Reflections on Desire and Greed

Did a word ever send you on a wild goose chase? Me and suzerain. (Voc 2011-1)

Judging a book by its ... title!

World AIDS Day

Pumpkin Carving Grows on Us

Highwood Seeks World Record!

Got Block Styrofoam?

I've been busy elsewhere

Death, Aging and other laughing matters

Where I've Been! (Reviews elsewhere)

Here's something you shouldn't miss!

Transition Time

Moon over Miami

South Beach Balcony Night Views

Let’s grab our gobsticks and gobble some grub. (Vocab. #10)

Can a blog recrudesce? (Vocabulary #9)

Here's Our New Wrinkle! (Vocab. #8)

If You Play to Win, You Need Vocab. #7

Vid or Id? (Vocabulary #6)

Delivering on a Promise

Twitter is the current standard for bruiting; Vocab. #5

Better Than Vocabulary Building -- Again

Sampling from SeaWorld, San Antonio, November 7, 2009

Dinner with a Dollie

The MSWord Spellchecker Didn’t Need to Be Taught Vocab. Lesson #4

Build Your Vocabulary so You Don't Sound Gormless (Vocab. #3)

Raven with a Maven: Vocab. #2

Vocabulary Lesson 1: Azoic

We've Got Yesterday

Halloween as photo op!

The Promise of Anne Lamott

Can You Tell?

You're Going to a Class Reunion? Why?!?

JHS64 Reunion after 45 Years -- Breakfast

JHS64 Friday Tailgate Party

The Upside of Censorship

Closet Streamlining By The Numbers

At an Age

Dogs and Owners: A Family Resemblance

Oh, yuck!

Sleeping with Anne Lamott

Who do you Follow? Who do you 'Friend'? -- II

Who Do You Follow? Who Do You 'Friend'?

Back to Bird -- Reading or Rereading

Photos from Kahekili

The Road from Kapalua to Waihe'e

Chain, chain, chain; chain of love

Coriander vs. Cilantro

Spring has Sprung, Midden Arrives

25 Random Things

Environmental Damage, Gym-Style

Mustang Sally

Someone Asked Me ...

Peace

A Short One Worth Sharing

Second Favorite Holiday Has Come ... and Gone

The Red Silk Dress

What is This Thing Called Marriage?

Help Your Local School -- SO Easy!

Surfing the Blogs Just to See ...

Grandma's Diaries, revisited

Off to Atlanta with Another Janet

Playing out the Race Card

Watching the Results

Halloween!!

Sympathy for Jennifer Hudson and her family

Grandma’s Diaries

A House Divided?