A Mother's Day Moment

"I studied the little girl and at last rediscovered my mother."
Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida

I love old photographs. I guess I agree with Roland Barthes' theory of photography in that when I see certain pictures, there is something in them that "speaks" to me, but they also produce a sense of sadness of what can "never be again." As my mother goes older, and I can clearly see it in her body, the way she seems smaller, shorter, her walk slower; her hair grayer, I begin to fear life without her. Being without her scares me more than my own death. As I watch my children grow older, I understand how much she loves me, and why she does for me what she does, and why she did what she did when I was a child. Her death would remove the only person in the world that loves me unconditionally. Sometimes I think about my life after my children; the life my mother is living right now. Will they roll their eyes when I call, as I sometimes do, when my mom calls for the fourth time that day? It is a scary thought to spend so many years of your life dedicated to your children and then to have them leave you behind as they build another life with their own family. I try to look at it in another way: that is what you try so hard for; you want to teach them to be happy and productive members of society; independent and capable of living without you. But their is a small piece of me that wants them to always need me for something.

Yesterday, I had a "mother's moment. " I was tired after getting up early to take my test and driving to and from Savannah, and the kids were being really mean to one another. Sometimes I ignore it and hope they will come to appreciate each other one day, but yesterday I felt compelled to say something. At the end of my rope, I pulled out an old trick of my mom's:
"Maybe one day I will drop dead and then you will be nice to each other."
Really, it makes no sense, and I had always vowed to not say such things to my children, but in a moment of weakness, I broke out the guilt. The kids looked sad, and then, after a few quite seconds, started blaming it all on Trey. It never worked when I was a child either. Not until late at night, when I lay alone in my bed in my dark room. Then I worried and cried with the thought of losing my mother. Now, I see why she resorted to guilt. Not because she was mean, but because she was desperate to make us stop fighting. It was a moment of weakness, and it is often felt by all parents.

When I look at these pictures of my mom, I look at her with the eyes of a parent now. Did that little girl of six have any idea how much she was loved by her grandmother who raised her? Did that beautiful girl in the diamond necklace know that her grandmother lay in bed at night and prayed for her granddaughter to make the right decisions in life. Probably not. We never realize until we have our own children how much our guardians, whoever they may have been, longed for our happiness and well being. I am glad that my mom is still around for me to let her know that I understand, now, why she spanked me for leaving home and not telling her where I was going; why she took the car keys from me when I stayed out to late; why she would not let me watch Helter Skelter because she knew it would give me bad dreams; why she would not let me go to the skating ring on Friday nights, even though I begged and begged and told her all the other girls could go. Happy Mother's Day and Thanks.

Random Stuff

These are two of the books I am expecting this week

Well, I am finally finished with school. I have one class to take this summer and then I can start my teaching career. I am past worrying anymore about whether or not I will like it. I will, or I won't. If I do, great, and if I don't, then I move on. Either way, it will be an experience. I have not been able to put down Alice Munro's book of short stories, Runaway. It is fabulous. Tomorrow I start a new summer job, and Thursday I take my chance at the Praxis. I am not worried about the reading and writing section, but the math section worries me. I have no idea how to do anything beyond addition and subtraction. I even have problems adding and subtracting fractions! I am fortunate that Hope is a math whiz and she is helping me study for the test. Sad, I know.

New Treasures

I went to the used bookstore yesterday and found a few good titles, and also the weirdest book cover I have ever seen. The Stranger by Albert Camus is a book I have always wanted to read, but have never bothered. When I saw this cover, I had to buy it, even though these weird characters freak me out! The first novel was suggested by Kirsten as "fun and delightful trash." I can't wait to read it. After reading Night Train by Martin Amis, I felt like a really good detective novel so I chose Sue Grafton another author I have never read before.

 

My New Obsession: Nightmare Alley

Now that I am done with finals, I can start my fun, summer reading. Yesterday, I read an article in The Writer's Chronicle called "One Man's Nightmare: The Noir Journey of William Lindsay Gresham." The book the article focused on was clalled Nightmare Alley, and I became immediately interested in reading it when the writer of the article said, "It's the only novel I have ever encountered that made me feel unclean by the time I had finished it." Apparently, this noir novel is an examination into the lives of circus freaks and hobos, ala Carnivale on HBO. It has recently been rewritten as a graphic novel, but to very little praise, so I have no interest in it. The book is out of print and it seems hard to find. If any of you bibliophiles (Brandi, you are the master at locating books) find the original book published in 1946, please let me know.

Summer Reading

I have a couple of papers left, and I cannot wait to begin my summer reading. I already have the books lined up. Here are a few:

Bananas, Beaches and Bases: Making Feminist Sense of International Politics by Cynthia Enloe

Wide Blue Yonder by Jean Thompson

Who We Love another Jean Thompson

Maus II by Art Spiegelman

Feminism Without Borders: Decolonizing Theory, Practicing Solidarity by Chandra Talpade Mohanty

The Problems of Philosophy by Bertrand Russell, John Perry

Narrative Design: Working with Imagination, Craft, and Form by Madison Smartt Bell

Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood

Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris -the only one I have not read

What about you? What are you reading this summer?

Another Movie Review

"There was some empty space between what he knew and what he tried to believe, but nothing could be done about it, and if you can't fix it you've got to stand it"
Brokeback Mountain - Annie Proulx

After watching Brokeback Mountain this weekend, I wanted to read the story, so last night I did just that. If you have not seen the movie, I highly recommend it, but don't watch it with your mother Brandi. Not because there is a lot of sex, but there is some and I would hate for anyone to be embarrassed. The short story was good, but no where near as good as Ang Lee's rendition of two cowboy's in love. The scene above is one of my favorites. If you watch the movie, you will understand why. After watching the film, I hate that it has become a punch line or an easy one-liner on late night talk shows. In fact, I have been in a funk since I watched it. Maybe I grew up with a strangely large number of gay men, but I have known so many that this story really touched me. I understand the struggle as much as anyone can who does not actually live through an experience. I have probably never told any of you the story of my friend Steve. When I was growing up, I had a really good friend named Steve. He was from a wonderful, loving family. His father was a pastor who was charismatic and loving, everyone adored him, especially me. Steve was very good-looking, in fact, he later moved to California and became a model, not famous, but he did do some ads for Calvin Klein before the drugs brought him down to nothing more than a skinny waif who looked older than his years. Steve was also gay. Many suspected that when he was younger, but out of respect for his father, no one would shun him or mistreat him.

Eventually, Steve came out of the closet, but only after putting a thousand miles between him and his family. His father stood by him. Looking back, I knew he would be that kind of man, his love for his family was so seeable, but Steve could never get over the guilt he felt; could never get past the idea that he had disappointed someone he respected and loved so much. Steve would keep in contact and tell me what was going on in his life and it was always one step forward and two steps back for him. I told him to come home and get away from the fast life; let those that loved him take care of him. He said, "I can't come back to a place I feel I don't belong." Steve found a place where he could stand it. Maybe movies like Brokeback Mountain will move us in the direction of fixing it.

Really Knowing

I have always heard the lines engraved at the bottom of the statue of liberty, but I don't believe I have ever read the entire poem until this morning. It really is quite beautiful. I am all over the place on the immigration debate, and I really don't know how I feel. I recoil at the language some of people use when they talk about deporting illegals, but I also know that the work force of illegal immigrants hurts the poorest of americans. At some point, something has to be done. Follow this link to The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus.

http://www.libertystatepark.com/emma.htm

Saying All the Wrong Things

"It is a thousand pities never to say what one feels . . . " Mrs. Dalloway

Last night I went with an all-star cast of ladies to Charleston to see David Sedaris "in concert." He is one of my all-time favorite writers, and if you have not read him, I highly recommend that you do. He read several stories and I was glad that they were new to me. When he said "I am going to finish up with a few entries from my dairy," I turned to Julia to see if she wanted to go get in line for the book signing. She said "Yes," because the hour was late and there were 2500 people there, so it would be worth it to miss the last few minutes of the show to get a book signed by Sedaris. Little did we know that we were going to miss a good half hour of the program, including a question- answer session. However, it paid off because me and Julia were the first in line. Nerd ingenuity.

I am very bad at speaking to people that I admire. I tend to say silly things and say them breathlessly. Last night was no exception. What makes it so bad is that I have foreknowledge of my problem, but still I stumbled.
"So," Dave asked,"Where are you from."
"We are from Savannah."
"Who are you here with."
"My friends over there, and one of our professors."
"She looks to young to profess."
"hahahahahahaha. She is"
It only gets worse from there. It involved words such as THE Cracker Barrel, not just Cracker Barrel, and the word "rasslin" as in wrestling. Not good, and not things you want David Sedaris to remember you by. I comfort myself with the idea that I was the first in a very long line, and I am sure her forgot our weird conversation seconds later.
What I really wanted to say was: "I love your writing. I love the way you talk about Hugh, and how clearly I see your love for him when you talk about your life together. I cry when you talk about your mother Sharon and laugh when you talk about your dad and brothers and sisters. In the middle of your humor, your work always touches me with something that goes beyond the laugh, and I often finish your stories smiling through tears. Thank you so much for signing my book and taking a minute to talk to me."
If you haven't read any David Sedaris, you should.

Moving On

Illusion is the first of all pleasures.
Oscar Wilde

As many of you know, in a moment of insanity, Dr. Winterhalter offered me a job teaching a Intro to Women's Studies class in the fall. I was very tempted to do it and struggled with the question of "Can I do it?" Many of you gave me great advice and suggested I should not let fear rule my life, and made me feel good because you all thought I was capable of taking on such a large task. However, I decided against taking the position. It was a temporary job that, realistically, would not have had any long term benefits. It would have looked nice on my resume, but I hope that, in the future, I will have another opportunity to teach at the college level. Kirsten told me that I made "a very grown-up decision." That made me feel good because in the past I have not made very grown up decisions and sometimes they were disastrous. Thanks for the cheerleading; each of you made me feel capable of anything.

Sheba

This is my beautiful Sheba. Thanks to all of you for your concern.

 

Random Stuff

Movie Review
If you haven't already, you should go and see Spike Lee's new movie Inside Man with Denzel Washington and Clive Owen, if for nothing else but to listen to Clive Owen talk and look at Jodie Foster's fabulous calve muscles. She looks beautiful in this film, plus it has an excellent story with a delicious surprise ending. very clever. If you have seen it, let me know what you think.

Romance Update:
Kerry_loves_Reese@hotmail.com is no longer. Now Kerry_loves_Cody@hotmail.com. I can't say that I am disappointed, but this shows me to settle down and not get so excited about young love. It is very transient.

Neighbors Suck:
One of my less-civilized neighbors kicked my German Shepherd Sheba, who is the sweetest dog in the world, yesterday and dislocated her hip. She is at the vets office today having it reset. I know she should not wander around, but she keeps up with the kids everywhere they go, and for that, I am grateful. Whatever happened to picking up the phone and asking your neighbor to keep your dog out of their yard? Mean people really do suck.

On the Edge

"Their love is gentle and discreet. If it were a plant it would be a fern, light green and feathery and delicate; if a musical instrument, a flute. If a painting it would be a water lily by Monet, one of the more pastel renditions, with its liquid depths, its reflections, its different falls of light."
The Robber Bride


At this time in my life, I am the verge of many edges. I going to graduate soon, and while in the past, I have been hesitant to finish school, I now feel ready. It is time to step out of the familiar and safe world of Gamble and into a paid position where I actually have to be a grown-up. I also feel like I am on the verge of ending a long-term, but unhealthy relationship. I am both excited and afraid of this prospect, but like school, I think I am ready to move on. I am very bad at meeting guys, well not meeting them, but once I meet them I cannot seem to feel comfortable with any type of "romantic talk." I am fine as long as I am the one doing the flirting, but I get scared as soon as the flirting is returned (not too often).

I was thinking about this when we were reading The Robber Bride. One of the characters accepts her flawed relationship, I think, because she feels that it is safe and comfortable. She will not be asked to give anything that she cannot, and so she stays and feels safe. But I wonder if she is really happy and in love, or just comfortable. I guess my concern is that I will die alone, or I will never find anyone I feel comfortable with. Is a light, feathery love enough?

More Fun Than A Barrel of Monkeys

I am so excited about a new web site that I found that I wanted to share it with all of you immediately. It's an online tool for cataloging your books. It is totally unnecessary, but extraordinarily exciting. Bibliophiles (AKA Nerds, enjoy!)

http://www.librarything.com/index.php

Operation Heart Cream: Part Deux

"If Charis ever hears any more voices telling her to slit her wrists, Tony is the one she'd call . . . Tony would know what to do, step by step, one thing at a time, in order. She wouldn't call Roz at first, because Roz would freak out, would cry and sympathize and agree with her about the unbearablility of it all . . . But afterwards, after she felt safe again, she would go to Roz for the hug."
The Robber Bride

Our friends always serve different purposes in our lives. Some give us comfort, while others bring us safety and order. I am just thankful that we have them. It is impossible for me to give you, my Lindy-Lou, the language based inspiration that Brandi is able to give you. That is not my role, but I want you to know how wonderful, talented and special you are to us. I know this may not soothe your fractured heart, but I hope it will help.

I am quite a bit older than you, and although I am not very mature, I have learned that what seems like a disappointment, is really an opportunity. To cut that line from a story, that piece from our painting, clip our bangs, or take off those heels, is a moment of freedom that will one day have a larger effect on our very short lives. You are wonderful, you do wear pointy-toe shoes better than anyone I know and have an incredibly sharp wit. You will be fine, but you know that already.
Here is the Munro piece:
"Sing," my brother commands my father, but my father says gravely, "I don't know, I seem to be fresh out of songs. You watch the road and let me know if you see any rabbits."
So my father drives and my brother watches the road for rabbits and I feel my father's life flowing back from our car in the last of the afternoon, darkening and turning strange, like a landscape that has an enchantment on it, making it kindly, ordinary and familiar while you are looking at it, but changing it once your back is turned, into something you will never know, with all kinds of weathers, and distances you cannot imagine."
Walker Brothers Cowboy

Kerry_loves_Reese@hotmail.com

Yesterday, my 14 year old son was on the computer checking his email. I had promised to send someone an email by 4 yesterday afternoon and had forgotten, so I told Reese to quickly get off the computer so I could use it for 5 minutes. Instead of closing it out, he just minimized it. When I finished, I brought his page up for him and the title of this blog is what I saw. I promise, I had no intention of looking at his email, so don't judge me too harshly. It was like passing a train wreck, you felt dirty, but you had to do it. I found out that the little girl down the street, also 14, is in love with Reese. Apparently he asked her out (where to I do not know) and she responded, "Do you know how long I have been waiting for you to ask?" All of two weeks I am sure. I also discovered something unpleasant. She also said something about "making out." I did not get the whole thing, but it can't be good. I surprised myself by, not only reading his email, but also by the strong effect the content had on me. I felt physically sick and wanted to cry. I understand young love. In many ways, I am still a 14 year old waiting on love to happen to me in the only way it can happen to the innocent. I guess what bothers me is the idea of any, and I mean any type of sexuality in my children. That type of progression means they are getting older, and in turn, so am I. Donald Trump just recently had a baby. At 59, he is getting older and is facing his immortality. He is quoted as saying, "I keep having kids, so I stay young right?" No Donald, you do not, but I can see where he is going. The progression of time is easily measured outside of our own minds and bodies. We see our parents grow older and our children get taller, but we are too inside ourselves to witness our own aging process. In the future, I will remind him to close his email before I use the computer. The less we see, the better.

Movie Review and Other Stuff

I know Kirsten is sick of hearing me talk about A History of Violence, but I enjoyed it so much that I thought I would recommend it to others. It is not the greatest movie ever made, but it is a really good story and a cliffhanger as well. I was interested in it because it is based on a graphic novel. Something a little different.

I also started a new book that, so far, is very interesting. Its called Lying: A Metaphorical Memoir by Lauren Slater who also wrote Prozac Nation. I think Brandi would be interested in it, if for nothing else other than its concept. It sort of reminds me of the book you read, I think it was called The Girl in the Plaid Skirt. I've had it for a while, but have been to busy to read it. I probably will not finish it, The Robber Bride awaits, but at least I have started.

Also, props to McDonald's. The fast food giant, and makers of a fabulous chicken sandwich, have changed coffee, and with the distribution of free coffee coupons, has drawn me into their web. I was tempted to try their brand when I read an article that said in a blind taste test, McDonald's new coffee beat out Starbucks.

A new poet on the rise -- Of late, Trey has been writing poetry. All of it involving colors. He told me that he plans to write a poem about every color in the rainbow and then he will combine all of the poems in the shape of a rainbow. Needless to say, I am impressed. Publication is forthcoming, so look for it in the future.

The Loss of UnnamedThings

"Each child is living the only life he has - the only one he will ever have. The least we can do is not diminish it." Bill Page

It seems strange to me that I am quoting a man who is an educator, and not a writer. In fact, I know very little about Bill Page, but lately I have found myself interested in what people like him have to say. I spent last night creating a wish list on Amazon that was not filled with novels, but rather books about educating high school students. Instead of the "Book Lovers List" I used to have, my list is now named the "Future Teachers Survival Pack." That is quite a change for me; someone who hates education classes and all of those in them.
I have been spending quite a bit of time in the classroom this week observing the way a high-school class operates. I have to admit, that on some days, I am extraordinarily excited about teaching, but on other days, I feel completely inadequate and unprepared. Yesterday, the class played a game of Jeopardy!, and they seemed to enjoy it. Several of the kids are very funny, and I have trouble pretending that I am not listening to them, but during the game, they told me that I had to be on their team. I laughed and refused, "It wouldn't be fair," I said, "They answered the same questions in the first block so I already know the answers." They laughed and I laughed, and one of the boys on the other team mocked my laugh. I felt the familiar sting of tears behind my eyes and a lump swell in my throat. For him, it was meaningless. I am sure he meant no real harm, but to me, the emotional reaction that I felt, said, "They will eat you alive. You are not tough enough."
In my old high school, the teachers there never sought to make a difference. The only way they touched me was in pinching my shoulder when I turned around, or tapping me on the head when I was talking. I have no memories of them reaching out to me and showing me what I could do well, or trying to engage me in any real conversation about life. I think what scare me the most is that I too will be ineffectual. The life that these kids live - the only life they will live - will be diminished by me in some way, and in turn, my life will somehow be diminished. Either would be tragic.

Pictures!

All of you have heard so much about the conference this weekend, that I thought I should put some faces with names. I also thought I should change my blog template because it looked so much like Brandi's. Everytime I looked at it, I felt like a thief. This one is kind of lame, but at least I don't look like a copy cat anymore. I was aiming for kirsten's template next!
Dr. Winterhalter and the much-loved Grace Paley. I could just put her in my pocket and take her home!


The equally loved Dr. Hollinger! Making sure everyone stays on schedule.
















Dr. Winterhalter scolding Dr. Hollinger for something, while Grace Paley looks on.











Brandi and her blue bike. She looks very Sex and the Cityish!

 

Words of Wisdom

Today, one of my favorite professors told me about a great line she heard Grace Paley use this weekend. One of my friends, who lives too far away for a hug, is having a tough week, and is in need of a little reassurance, so I will hug her with words and hope this helps her feel better.

Grace wanted to go on the walking tour to see the studio of one of the artists, but she feared she would not be able to handle the walk. She said, "I feel that I can walk very far, but not very fast."

Applied to life, this is a wonderful thought. Slow down; enjoy the walk; go farther.

Learning New Things

One of the things I love about conferences is the opportunity to learn new things. Some presentations put me to sleep, but there are always a couple that sparks my interest, or introduces me to something new. At this years women's studies conference, I was put to sleep a couple of times but I learned some wonderful new things.

At one presentation, I learned that all of the beautiful people that we see both in print and on television, are digitally enhanced. The beautiful women we strive to look like, don't even look as they appear. The ideal body image is unattainable because it does not exist. Makes me feel better anyway.

I also learned about a writer I had never read before. Grace Paley was fabulous! I loved her spunk and I have already ordered her book of poetry. All for this one line: "I was moved by the strong desire to kiss his explaining lips." In the context of the rest of the poem, this was so very moving. I will post the poem in its entirety when I receive the book.

At a session on art, I learned about an Iranian photographer that takes some very disturbing and beautiful photographs. Visit this site and see some of her work:The photo above is her work.
http://www.iranian.com/Arts/Dec97/Neshat/