Their Eyes Were Watching God

What an amazing book. We did it for book group this month and I was glad for the chance to read it. I have only read Hurston's Mules and Men and that was in college, a very long time ago.

Just a few thoughts here.
1. I love the name Zora. What a great name. It was really interesting to read about the end of her life, where she fell into relative obscurity, worked as a maid the last 10 years of her life, and then was buried in an unmarked grave. The story of Alice Walker, one of the most influential writers who rediscovered Hurston, trying to find the location where she was buried was great.

2. Hurston's writing is brilliant. She moves between character dialogue in the black vernacular and beautifully written literary descriptions so gracefully, without any hint of perturbance. It occurred to me while reading this that she must have been split between two worlds: that of the writer and academic and that of the poor black woman.

3. I loved the arc of Janie's journey--her voyage to the horizon where heaven meets earth. I thought it was interesting that for Hurston, Janie's self-realization was not at all dependent on her becoming a mother, but centered on finding and loving Tea Cake.

Some of my favorite passages:

After her second husband first beat her, she has a moment of powerful self awareness.

Janie stood where he left her for unmeasured time and thought. She stood there until something fell off the shelf inside her. It was her image of Jody tumbled down and shattered. But looking at it she saw that it never was the flesh and blood figure of her dreams. Just something she had grabbed up to drape her dreams over. In a way she turned her back upon the image where it lay and looked further. She had no more blossomy openings dusting pollen over her man, neither any glistening young fruit where the petal used to be. She found that she had a host of thoughts she had never expressed to him, and numerous emotions she had never let Jody know about. Things packed up and put away in parts of her heart where he could never find them. She was saving up feelings for some man she had never seen. She had an inside and an outside now and suddenly she knew how not to mix them.

And the final paragraph of the book:

The day of the gun, and the bloody body, and the courthouse came and commenced to sing a sobbing sigh out of every corner in the room; out of each and every chair and thing. Commenced to sing, commenced to sob and sigh, singing and sobbing. Then Tea Cake came prancing around her where she was and the song of the sigh flew out of the window and lit in the top of the pine trees. Tea Cake, with the sun for a shawl. Of course he wasn’t dead. He could never be dead until she herself had finished feeling and thinking. The kiss of his memory made pictures of love and light against the wall. Here was peace. She pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net. Pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over her shoulder. So much of life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come and see.

What a satisfying conclusion.

This book has inspired me to create an African American reading list in honor of Black History Month. I think I'll read The Souls of Black Folk (I've heard much mention of this in sociological contexts), some Toni Morrison, maybe some more Zora Neale Hurston, and maybe Cane River.

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Organization at Home

Last week, I read an article in the Washington Post which suggested that an easy way to start decluttering and organizing at home was to first tackle the linen closet. A confined space which could be cleaned out in a fairly short amount of time? Sign me up.

I have had some struggles with clutter, with things going lost in our house, with crankiness about it all.

Exhibit #1. T's boot went missing. He was supposed to bring winter clothes to preschool to play outside. Much to his dismay, he was forced to wear MJ's old Hello Kitty boots. I was mad. He was mad and upset. "All the kids will laugh at me!"

Exhibit #2. MJ can't find her spelling notebook. She doesn't know where her agenda for school is. I threaten. I scold.

I could go on and on.

So, I decided to do the linen closet. And that I could do all the other non-bedroom closets in the house. A small triumph to boost me up and give me encouragement for other bigger jobs.

As of today, I have completed the linen closet, the front hall closet (that doubles as a pantry), and the laundry room closet. I have one more closet in our upstairs hall to do. I have several bags of stuff to get rid of. And it feels great.

While I am feeling this motivation, I decided to pull out my home organization books that have been gathering dust on my shelves for months and months. I just started one today. I am trying to look past statements like: "The only thing that can stop you is you! There's a u in every excuse."

Wish me luck! I need all the good kharma I can get for this.


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Babushka

This Christmas, we read our usual amount of books. Babushka by Sandra Ann Horn is one of my favorites. We found it last year, and this year the kids wanted to read it quite a few times.

We have read another couple of versions of this story. Traditionally, the character of Babushka refuses to go with the wise men because she can't leave her household to collect dust and cobwebs in her absence, but then she regrets her decision. So, she wanders after the wise men, but never finds the baby Jesus. Supposedly, she has continued to try to find the baby Jesus, leaving toys for all children because they might be him.

In Horn's version, she does end up finding him and Mary and Joseph, even though she has already given all her presents away. She is still obsessed with cleanliness and order, but is able to look past the general squalor of the stable when she meets baby Jesus.

I love the illustrations in this book. There are a couple of pages where Horn draws a sky full of angels, and I like the idea of the night sky illuminated by the angels that crowd to earth to announce his birth and to catch a glimpse of him.

I also heard a great interview with John Rutter, the director of the Cambridge Singers (a choir whose CDs are required Christmas listening in my house). When pressed for his favorite Christmas carol, he replies In Dulci Jubilo. "The legend goes it was sung by the angels on Christmas Eve and written down by a monk. If ever there was a carol that might have been sung by the angels, that would be it."

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Vintage New Yorker: August 9, 1947

I'm trying to decide what to do with all these delicious New Yorker covers. In the meantime, I think I'll post a smattering here.
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I am Loving Picasa

We recently upgraded our computer and started using Picasa instead of Photoshop for photo organization. Photoshop Elements was clumsy, slow, and it was hard to do even the simplest editing tasks. It always made our computer freeze. So, AJ installed Picasa and it is so much nicer. I just sent this photo directly from Picasa to Blogger. And there is a great feature where I can take stills from video, as this picture from the kids on Christmas morning.

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Baby Z's New Trick

As described by T: "He can stand up like a real person now!"

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Splendors of the Vatican

On New Years Eve, AJ and I got to go on a real date. Not one squeezed into a two hour block. Not a dinner and movie at our local mall. Thanks to grandparents in town, we went over the Minnesota History Center to see Splendors of the Vatican. On display were mosaics of the apostles, a compass Michalangelo used on the frescos of Sistine Chapel ceiling, several reliquaries, including one containing what is said to be bone fragments of St Peter, and many papal articles including the pastoral staff of Pope John Paul and the papal garb that Pope Benedict didn't choose (apparently three cassocks--is that what they are called?--are laid out for the new pope and whichever fits best is worn to greet the well-wishes at St Peter's, while the other two are stashed away at the Vatican). When we were in Italy three years ago, the Vatican was my most favorite site. I loved looking at the art, the Sistine Chapel was amazing, and St Peter's was awesome, in all that that word symbolizes. Someday, I want to go back to Rome on the off-est of the off season so that I can enjoy a bit more solitude in the Sistine Chapel rather than standing shoulder to shoulder with loads of other tourists.

There is something about the Catholic church that calls to me. The unbroken connection to the time of Christ, no matter what depravity and dark periods the church passed through, is powerful. The Catholic churches I have visited feel otherworldly--the Gregorian chanting of Vespers, the deep silence of stone walls, and the art portraying Jesus, Mary, and the Saints. While some people think they are creepy, I like the relics--like the bones of apostles, the finger of St Anthony in Padova, as well as other physical objects like the chains that Peter was supposedly held in. We also saw the Mandylion of Edessa at the museum, which was a cloth taken to Jesus for him to touch, in order that his power might be transferred to a sick individual for healing. He is said to have placed the cloth over his face, and when he pulled it away, an image of his face remained. It was preserved in ornate fashion, encapsulated in gold and jewels. Relics are venerated by believers because the holiness of the person is said to still reside in these bone fragments or objects that they touched. I like the idea of physical objects that connect me to someone who lived hundreds of years ago.

I also like the Catholic emphasis on Mary. While Mormons typically downplay Mary to some extent because we don't want people from other religions to think that worship her, I like seeing images of her and feeling the great respect and reverence that Catholics have for her. I like that there is a woman who is venerated, and yes, even worshipped. To me, the Catholics get closer to the idea of a sacred feminine than the Mormons do, because even though we profess belief in a Mother God, we never talk about her, never compose paintings of her, and are generally left to our own imagination about her characteristics.

I am also drawn to the Saints. Partly, it's the idea that good people can act as vessels of God's mercy and miracles. People who are canonized as saints enter into the Catholic fabric, and become bedtime stories for children and examples of moral behavior and discipleship that inspire followers. I must also admit that I love that women can be saints, that their stories too can be told and retold, and that their lives serve as inspiration. I have wanted for some time to learn more about the stories of the Catholic saints. I picked up a 2009 calendar of saints for my office, and am looking for some reading material to help me learn about them.

And after the museum, we shared a delicious meal at a Kurdish restaurant called Babani's. Ahh. It was so nice sitting there without the kids.

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Lost in Translation

This is the first time I'm trying one of these book challenges. I mostly read whatever suits me and whatever looks good. But, Lost in Translation was simple and not too overwhelming, plus interesting and appealing enough to persuade me to try it: I just have to read 6 books in translation during 2009. Here's my first attempt at a list, but I don't feel bound to follow it exactly.



Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev (Russian)
The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolanos (Spanish, Chile)
100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (Spanish, Colombia)
Nine Guardians by Rosario Castellanos (Spanish, Mexico)
Here's to You, Jesusa by Elena Poniatowska (Spanish, Mexico)
Inkdeath by Cornelia Funke (German)

Back-ups
Seeing by Jose Saramago (Portuguese, Brazil)
The Rebels by Sandor Marai (Hungarian)
The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery (French)
The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende (Spanish, Chile)
Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon by Jorge Amado (Portuguese, Brazil)
Borges And The Eternal Orangutans by Luis Fernando Verissimo (Portuguese, Brazil)
Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter by Mario Llosa Vargas (Spanish, Peru)



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Recent Books

I have read a string of really great books, but I'm behind on writing about them. Once I had a handle of my Christmas projects, I wanted to sit and read and read, and I did make it through quite a few books. Here are just a few words about several of them.

Charlatan: America's Most Dangerous Huckster, the Man Who Pursued Him, and the Age of Flimflam by Pope Brock. This sounded like a good book. A medical fraud trying to hock a solution to the age-old problem of declining masculinity. John Brinckley's remedy was to implant men with goat testicles. Who would agree to such a surgery? It turns out a lot of men, famous and commoners. Brinckley became a very rich man with his hoax. But, I didn't love the writing, the story didn't flow well for me. It would have been better as a New Yorker article, condensed to its essence.


Every Soul a Star by Wendy Mass. This was a simple story of three young adolescents who meet in a campground where hundreds of eclipse chasers have converged to view a total solar eclipse. The three couldn't be more different from each other: nerdy, smart, scientist, home-school daughter who has spent almost her whole life totally outside society living in the campground and taking care of it with her family; the beautiful, popular girl whose life revolves around shopping, make-up, and her plan to break into modelling; and the artistic chubby loner who is failing at school because he just doesn't make any effort. The three of them become friends and work through issues in a sweet coming of age story. And the description of the solar eclipse was exquisite--it made me want to plan a vacation around a viewing.

The Adoration of Jenna Fox by Mary E. Pearson. This reminded me a lot of Never Let Me Go. The narrator of the story slowly unravels her story and the reader follows along. Jenna Fox has suffered an accident and has amnesia. She can't remember much of her life before, including her parents and friends. As her memory returns and as she stumbles along to piece together her story, a creepy medical experiment by two parents who can't bear to lose a child emerges. A combination of sci-fi and futuristic writing, complete with adolescent angst and questions about medical ethics make it a compelling read. Perfect for Christmas vacation.

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The Worst Hard Time

The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Great American Dust Bowl by Timothy Egan

This was an amazing account of the circumstances and stories of people (collected by Egan in interviews) who lived through the dust bowl in the 1930's. Due to the wide-spread plowing up of the prairie to make room for wheat, when drought hit, massive amounts of soil were displaced and blown away. The severity of this human-caused environmental disaster was unprecedented. And the Depression only made it worse. One woman's story was particularly poignant: when Hazel Lucas's first child was born, her husband spent hours trying to make it to the hospital because the roads were covered in sand and because visibility was so low. By the time this daughter was one, she was coughing up dirt and fine particulate matter, and soon died of what was called dust pneumonia, even though the family attempted to escape the worst of the dusters by moving out of the area.

Here's a quotation from the final chapter of the book detailing the tragedy that these people lived through:

How to explain a place where black dirt fell from the sky, where children died from playing outdoors, where rabbits were clubbed to death by adrenaline-primed nesters still wearing their Sunday-school clothes, where grasshoppers descended on weakened fields and ate everything but the doorknobs? How to explain a place where hollow-bellied horses chewed on fence posts, where static electricity made it painful to shake another man's hand, where the only thing growing that a human or a cow could eat was an unwelcome foreigner, the Russian thistle? How to explain fifty thousand or more houses abandoned throughout the great plains, never to hear a child's laugh or a woman's song inside their walls? How to explain nine million acres of farmland without a master?

Here's a review from Publisher's Weekly that I really liked:

Egan tells an extraordinary tale in this visceral account of how America's great, grassy plains turned to dust, and how the ferocious plains winds stirred up an endless series of "black blizzards" that were like a biblical plague: "Dust clouds boiled up, ten thousand feet or more in the sky, and rolled like moving mountains" in what became known as the Dust Bowl. But the plague was man-made, as Egan shows: the plains weren't suited to farming, and plowing up the grass to plant wheat, along with a confluence of economic disaster—the Depression—and natural disaster—eight years of drought—resulted in an ecological and human catastrophe that Egan details with stunning specificity. He grounds his tale in portraits of the people who settled the plains: hardy Americans and immigrants desperate for a piece of land to call their own and lured by the lies of promoters who said the ground was arable. Egan's interviews with survivors produce tales of courage and suffering: Hazel Lucas, for instance, dared to give birth in the midst of the blight only to see her baby die of "dust pneumonia" when her lungs clogged with the airborne dirt. With characters who seem to have sprung from a novel by Sinclair Lewis or Steinbeck, and Egan's powerful writing, this account will long remain in readers' minds


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My dad's Christmas present this year

Almost all of the people surrounding my dad (photo taken when he was about 18 years old) are direct ancestors, with an aunt and uncle thrown in there to fill it out. I created the collage, saved it as a jpeg, and then sent it over to Costo where they printed off an 8x8 square for a mere 1.49.

My next project is to create a similar collage with me surrounded by my maternal ancestors.

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Best birthday presents ever!

All my sisters and my mom decided to indulge my obsession. I'm so happy about it!

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Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History

We did this for book group this month (in May actually. I started writing this post in May!). I loved the book, and had a great time reading it. It was rich with interesting ideas and Ulrich is a great writer. I have a couple other of her books on my list to read. Like American Women, there were a lot of stories of different women and lots of them didn't stick with me. But, Ulrich did a great job tying them together, not by chronology, but by connections to three main women: Christine de Pizan, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Virginia Woolf, now three of my heros. (I have since read A Room of One's Own and have started City of Ladies). She spends an early chapter devoted to the three of them, showing how their early exposure to an odious text shaped their views and writing about women.

There were so many great vignettes about their lives that I really related to. Every single one of them saw the disadvantages they faced as women and longed to be a man. Stanton had a brother that died at a young age, and her father ever after lamented the lack of a son. Stanton did all she could to take the place of her brother, excelling in her studies, and striving to be both "learned and courageous". But, her father could only say, "I wish you had been born a boy." She sums this up by saying, “To think that all in me of which my father would have felt a proper pride had I been a man is deeply mortifying to him because I am a woman." I loved the description of Stanton and Susan B. Anthony and other suffragists invading Independence Hall in 1876 with their Declaration of the Rights of Women. "Yet we cannot forget that while all men of every race, clime, and condition have been invested with the full rights of citizenship, all women still suffer the degradation of disenfranchisement.”

In later chapters, she connects other women to key parts of their writing and lives. For example, Stanton was involved in the abolition movement and was directly or indirectly tied to four different Harriets (including Harriet Beecher Stowe and Harriet Tubman). In the first part of this chapter, Ulrich discusses these four women, and then connects the abolition movement to the women's rights movement. Ulrich looks for women's lives in the daily humdrum of the ordinary. She has a great section on the three waves of feminism. One of the things that happened in the 70's was that historians began to refocus the historical lens, looking to see where women were throughout history. I was caught up in the section of the women's movement in the 70's with all its excitement and idealism. I love the way women tried to locate ignored women in history, to find a place for them and let their voices be heard. The story group of women that Ulrich worked with in Boston to research Mormon history and uncover my femal spiritual ancestors is inspiring and amazing.

One thing that I like in this book more than in Collins was that Ulrich draws larger conclusions and women and their place in history, rather than simply marching through lives, era by era.

Now that it's been many months since I read this: my overall reaction to this book is the feeling of excitement and empowerment--to see strong and able women through the ages and to feel a kinship to them. The quotation at the top of my blog is from this Ulrich book, and the picture of Christine de Pizan at her computer, by Mary Yaeger, were taken from the book. When I read Ulrich's concluding paragraphs, I almost leapt off the elliptical machine at the gym I was so taken with it. And if I had not just lent it out to a friend, I would quote the entire paragraph here.

Instead, I will just reiterate this sentence: "A woman who write her own stories has no fear of demons."

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Food Drive

"Hi, I'm T. We're collecting food for a food drive and were wondering if you have any canned foods to donate." (with all the r's pronounced as w's.)

After Thanksgiving, we went to every house in our neighborhood (probably about 40) to ask for donations for the food pantry. The kids did great explaining what we were doing, and who can say no to a kid asking for a food donation?

I was amazed at how much stuff we managed to collect. I wish I had taken a photo. (Above is random photo of food drive found on the internet.) We will be doing this every year.

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Christmas Music

Warning. I am going to complain.

I play the organ twice a month at church. I love it--twice a month is the perfect schedule for me. My favorite times of the year to play are Christmas and Easter. They are some of the few occasions when I can, literally, pull out all the stops. I can throw down some trumpet and really let the organ sound exuberant, joyful, and and jubilant. After all, we're talking about the birth and the resurrection of Jesus Christ here.

Christmas comes once a year. While we could sing Joy to the World in July, no one wants to do that. And with 15 songs in the hymn book devoted to Christmas topics, there isn't a lot of time to get to them all.

So you can imagine my dismay when I got the list of hymns for December and there were only four Christmas songs on the list. Four! Only four! A travesty. They included:

Silent Night
Oh Little Town of Bethlehem
Joy to the World
It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.

I suppose these were chosen because there are supposedly the truly necessary Christmas songs??

So, which are missing? The First Noel. Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Oh Come All Ye Faithful. Far Far Away on Judea's Plains. Away in a Manger. Angels We Have Heard on High. How can we go through a December without singing these songs? A true travesty.

Why only four? Well,the person who picks the music has certain ideas about what music you can sing when. On Fast Sunday you have to sing fast songs, even in December. And on the final Sunday of December you have to sing a New Year's song and a hymn to commemorate the birth of Joseph Smith.

I protested. This is just not right. So, a few changes were made. We got to sing one Christmas song the first week in December--Oh Come All Ye Faithful. We don't have to sing It Came Upon a Midnight Clear (is there anyone who prefers this song to Angels We Have Heard on High? Or Hark the Herald? This is one of my least favorite Christmas songs) because someone is doing it as a special musical number.

I fought long and hard for Far Far Away. We haven't done it either of the last two years that we have been here. The person who chooses the music told me last year when I complained about not getting to sing it that it's too hard for the congregation to sing. What?? Who cares if they don't sound perfect. Let's give those basses a fun and interesting part for once.

The choir sang The First Noel last Sunday, and I got to play for them. Ok, one other song we don't have to try to squeeze in.

And then today, to top things off, church was cancelled because of the weather. I have heard that all of today's music (congregation and special musical numbers)will be rescheduled for next Sunday. But, it's a disappointment.

I have a bigger problem than the logistics of December music. And it is this: why are somber and reverent songs more important (and more often chosen) to sing than joyful, triumphant, and exuberant songs? I have a problem that the congregation does not get to join together more often to sing the hymns of Christmas. I think this is as important (if not more so--for how often does everyone get to participate together? Only through the hymns.) as having every possible vocalist and instrumentalist perform.

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Dancing

On Sunday, MJ performed in both her winter recital and a Nutcracker show. She was really excited to learn two Nutcracker dances, and I let her go ahead with them, despite misgivings about her ability to learn and perform three separate dances. Well, she has been a trooper about practicing at home, rehearsing those dances over and over. She hasn't complained about it and has really stepped up to the challenge. It's been great to see her do this with such enthusiasm.

Watching the older girls at the recital, I wonder how long MJ will continue with dance. She has the interest and focus, and she can memorize her steps, but she doesn't have an abundance of grace and natural ability.

Seeing M dance recently, I thought about my brief history in any kind of organized sports. When we lived in Boise, my sister and I participated in gymnastics for several years. I was probably 7 to 10 years old. We went to meets and got ribbons. I still remember my beam and parallel bars routines. I also remember one of the coaches telling my mom that I had the concentration to be a gymnast and my sister had the body and talent to be a gymnast, and if she could just shake us up in a bag, we would be the perfect combination.
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Christmas Craziness

Between my Obama post-election glow and a late Thanksgiving this year, I procrastinated Christmas preparations. Now, I'm paying for it. Thankfully, I wasn't in charge of any church parties this year.

AJ's mom was in town last weekend and we made a gingerbread train (wow--what a huge project! How do people do that every year?), decorated the house, went to the mega-display of nativities, and finished rehearsals for MJ's Nutcracker show. Then, on Sunday, we had two dance shows and T's preschool Christmas program.

Since MIL left, I've been working furiously on a photo book for my grandparents composed of photos from the stash we discovered this summer. I worked on that all day yesterday, trying to finish it up, then when MJ got home, we ran over to Target to find a Christmas-photo appropriate baby sweater, after which I wrangled the kids into their outfits and snapped photos of them in front of the tree. Next, it was up to the computer to send my pictures to Costco and to order cards. And finally, over to the church to practice the organ with the choir for Sunday. More on Christmas music in another post. Home by 9:15 to talk on the phone with my parents about the photo book and make corrections there. And then, downstairs to tackle the unfolded laundry. I didn't make it through the socks or MJ's batch.

We still need to get Christmas presents for the kids and other family members and then mail them, finish the Christmas letter and do all the cards, finish the photobook for my sister, work on the other do-it-myself Christmas gifts that are going to be awesome (more on those later when it won't need to be kept secret), and practice Christmas music for church. The kids want to go to the Holidazzle parade and there's the ward Christmas party.

For the most part, though, I'm having a good time peppered with moments of major stress.

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Even More Election Thoughts

I still haven't taken down my Obama yard signs. I should. It's been really cold, and I say that's the reason. But, if I still want to bask a little longer, why shouldn't I? Soon enough will be Thanksgiving, then it's full speed ahead to Christmas.

The November 17 edition of the New Yorker is full of election round up. Four articles packed full of interesting summaries and analysis of this year's presidential election. One about how Obama won the election. One about McCain and his personal transformation to this year's candidate. So interesting. I loved this quote:

During the spring of the 2004 race, McCain campaigned tirelessly--"worked his tail off," in the words of Bush's press secretary--for the President. The following year, he assured conservatives that he would support Bush's tax cuts. More shocking, in the spring of 2006, he announced that he planned to give the commencement speech at Liberty University, which was run by Jerry Falwell--one of the so-called "agents of intolerance" and "forces of evil." Several week before the address, McCain appeared on "The Daily Show." Jon Stewart, who has said that he would have voted for McCain in 2000 had he won the Republican nomination, expressed consternation that McCain was paying tribute to the religious right. "It strikes me as something you wouldn't normally do," Stewart said. When McCain insisted that he would speak at any university, Stewart asked, "Are you going into crazy base world?" McCain hesistated, then said, "I'm afraid so."

There was an article--The Joshua Generation--about Obama and race and the way he navigated racial issues throughout his campaign. (I love that phrase Joshua Generation. Maybe it's been around for a while, but it's only been recently that I've noticed it.) The final big article is about how the intersection of the economic crisis and the future of the Democratic party. Good stuff.

Here's a quote from Hendrik Hertzberg in The Talk of the Town that I liked.

Barack Hussein Obama: last week, sixty-five million Americans turned a liability--a moniker so politically inflammatory that the full recitation of it was considered foul play--into a global diplomatic asset, a symbol of the resurgence of America's ability to astonish and inspire.

There's a great analysis of Obama's victory speech. Which reminds me. I forgot to mention earlier how moving it was to hear the call and response of "Yes we can" between Obama and the crowd in Grant Park during his victory speech.

And finally, a great cartoon: "He's suffering from excessive-poll-monitoring withdrawal."

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Religion and Politics

Speaking of Faith recently broadcast a two part series on the intersection between political party and religion. I started listening to the first episode last night, the view from the left. It was fabulous. Here is the blurb from the SofF website describing the episode:

The Religious Right has gotten a fair amount of coverage in recent years, while the political Left has rarely been represented with a religious sensibility. Our guest, a national correspondent for Time magazine is a political liberal and an Evangelical Christian who has been observing the Democratic Party's complex relationship with faith and the little-told story of its response to the rise of the Religious Right.

I am looking forward to listening to part 2, the view from the right.

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More Election Thoughts

Before the momentous feeling of this election has completely escaped from me, I had a few more things I wanted to capture.

1. The night of the election, CNN kept showing the electoral map. I was really amazed at the sea of blue from New England to Minnesota, all the way across the eastern half of the United States. I liked this quote from Nancy Gibbs in Time.

He let loose a deep blue wave that washed well past the coasts and the college towns, into the South through Virginia and Florida, the Mountain West with Colorado and New Mexico, into the Ohio Valley and the Midwestern battleground: you could almost walk from Maine to Minnesota without getting your feet wet in a red state.

2. I've been moved by the international reaction to the election of a black man to the presidency of the USA. I think that in many other countries, and I'm thinking specifically about Europe here, that minorities are much more isolated from public life and the idea of one being elected to such heights is staggering, but also inspiring. Just my thoughts, here. I just read about how a woman in Kenya named her twins, born on November 5, Michelle and Barack.

3. I liked this quote from Joe Klein:

Obama's victory creates the prospect of a new "real" America. We can't possibly know its contours yet, although I suspect that the headline is that it is no longer homogeneous. It is no longer a "white" country, even though whites remain the majority. It is a place where the primacy of racial identity...has been replaced by the celebration of pluralism, of cross-racial synergy...IT is a country that retains its ability to startle the world--and in a good way, with our freedom.

4. A good friend recently moved to Chicago and happened to get a ticket to Grant Park the night of the election. I love that the Obama campaign held their election night rally in such a public place with the ability to accomodate so many people. Anyway, here is her account of the night, with some pictures. What an amazing experience to be there, but like my sister in Denver said, I think there was something in the air everywhere.

5. I loved reading about how Obama has had the same barber for the last 15 years. And the challenges of providing security to him and his family in Hyde Park.

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Reading Of Late

In the lead up to the election, I was reading a lot online: scanning the news, looking at polling data, etc. I was also stuck in the middle of a dense book that took a lot to get through. But, now that the election is over, I have been able to clear off a few things that have been sitting around.

With Child: Mormon Women on Mothering. Edited by Marni Asplund-Campbell. I ordered this in the wee hours of one morning that baby Z wasn't sleeping. I had heard about it before and was interested. It's a collection of essays--mostly personal, but some poetry and fiction, one more scholarly piece. The quality is uneven and I thought it needed more editing to give it a cohesive feeling. One of the pieces was fascinating--about a woman discovering a story about her grandmother. It wasn't until I finished it and read the follow-up essay that I realized it was a short story rather than a personal account. Anyway, my favorite was a piece by Martha Sonntag Bradley, author of the amazing book 4 Zinas. In it, she talks about her experience as a mother of daughters and seeing them go through birthing their own children. I love this part:

I had the most remarkable experience during those ten minutes...I felt the tangible, palpable presence of a woman I study, Zina Diantha Young, herself a midwife present at the moment of her granddaughter, another Zina. Important to me was the warmth of the feeling, that I am sure came from her, that this was the most important miracle I would ever witness and that everything would be okay. That my daughter would be able to handle what this baby would bring to her and that their lives, and my own, would be better for the experience. I needed that comfort. And I believe Zina brought it to me.

This reminded me of my earlier imagination about the city of ladies. I would love to associate with both Zina Diantha Huntington Jacobs Smith Young and Martha Sonntag Bradley someday.

Lies my Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong. By James Loewen. I started this one a few weeks before the election since it focused on American history. It is a combination of critiquing high school history textbooks and retelling the history they got wrong. It took me a long time to get through it and I skimmed portions of it. He really wanted to show example after example of the European, white, middle class bias that text books have. I thought it could have been winnowed down a lot, and that it lacked any really helpful information for how to teach history. But, it was interesting and it has made me think about how I talk about history with my kids, especially MJ. With Thanksgiving coming up, there is some interesting things to talk about. And I had a good (although short) conversation with her after Obama's victory about the history of African Americans in our country.

Song of the Lark. By Willa Cather. I really love Willa Cather. It's been a while since I have read anything by her, and I was glad that we did this one for bookgroup. Thea, the protagonist, is such a complicated and interesting character. The story revolves around her quest to become a singer. I don't know that I liked who she was, but I admired her and her fierce dedication to her art. Added to that were a lot of other quirky and interesting characters. Plus, Cather's writing is so beautiful. This is one of my favorite passages from the book, occurring right after Thea, as a 13 year old, takes over the attic for her room.

The acquisition of this room was the beginning of a new era in Thea's life. It was one of the most important things that ever happened to her. Hitherto, except in summer,when she could be out of doors, she had lived in constant turmoil; the family, the day school, the Sunday-School. The clamor about her drowned the voice within herself. In the end of the wing, separated from the other upstairs sleeping-rooms by a long, cold, unfinished lumber room, her mind worked better. She thought things out more clearly. Pleasant plans and ideas occurred to her which had never come before. She had certain thoughts which were like companions, ideas which were like older and wiser friends. She left them there in the morning, when she finished dressing in the cold, and at night, when she came up with her lantern and shut the door after a busy day, she found them awaiting her. There was no possible way of heating the room, but that was fortunate, for otherwise it would have been occupied by one of her older brothers.

A room of one's own, indeed. I long for an attic spot of my own in our house. Everyone I turn are scattered the vestiges of my children's presence. I need to find a corner and make it mine. And then, if we ever move, seriously think about finding something with the potential for a real space of my own.

There is so much in Song of the Lark to think about. I am not doing it a bit of justice with this...


Wednesday Wars. By Gary Schmidt. This is a younger young adult book or an older children's book. I'm not sure what the cut-off there is. Anyway, the protaganist is an anti-hero in the form of a seventh grade boy, interestingly named Holling Hoodhood. Here's my goodreads review.

Cross the normal travails of a seventh grade boy with the turmoil of 1967-1968, throw in an English teacher with a penchant for diagramming sentences and Shakespeare, a peace loving, flower child sister, and two distant and neglectful parents, not to mention two rogue rats, and a delightful coming of age story emerges.

Here's the NYTimes review of it.

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This came in my mailbox today

I love this week's New Yorker cover!
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The Mystery of the Invisible Censor

My mom's extended family has a MyFamily website that we use to share recipes, good news, and the normal cute pictures of kids. It's a good way to keep better in touch with family that I rarely see.

On Tuesday night, after the election, one of my aunts put up a tidbit in the news section entitled "The Big Move" and then said, "K (her husband) is singing O Canada tonight." (To which I thought, are you going to escape the socialism that is supposedly coming to America by going to Canada???) One of my cousins replied to that, saying "We are going to stay here, just moving everything else offshore... What a mess."

I thought of some snide remarks that I could have made. But, I didn't say anything until later on Wednesday. I posted what I thought was non-confrontational, and understanding of the fact that this family is deeply conservative and Republican.

I know most of you probably disagree with Obama's politics, but does
anyone find any inspiration in his personal story, in the historic nature of a
black man becoming president, and in his message of unity and hope?

Not many people responded (which I guess I take to mean that no, they didn't find any inspiration in the campaign, that their disagreement and fear (and it is fear, I think, for at least some of them) of his politics overrode the other issues. So, whatever.

But, when I returned to the site later in the day, someone had changed my last phrase to read "and in his message of unity, hope, and socialism." And there was no attribution or signal as to who had changed it. It was as if these were the original words from my mouth. Now, we can have a conversation about the boogey-man that socialism has become in this election season, or about why a large proportion of the American electorate despise the idea of socialism (even though our country is far from a completely free market system). But, I was bugged that someone would rewrite my words and misrepresent me. So, I immediately wrote to protest. Something to the effect of "who did this? This isn't what I wrote." And I got a couple of responses, but no one admitted anything.

Then, later that night, I checked back, and the whole thread discussing the mysterious changing of my words has been deleted. As if it had never happened. Seriously? Censorship?

I put up another post acting like the whole thing was a joke, ha ha, tell us who's doing this, but now, two days later, no one will admit to a thing.

Was the change in my original post supposed to not be noticed by me? And then when I caught it, no one would take responsibility for it? If it was a joke, I find it hard to believe no one has owned up to it yet. I am bugged that someone who thinks Obama is a socialist wouldn't just come out and own that idea, but rather would just blame it on me.

Unfortunately, the administrator power of the website is dispersed across the 11 children in the family, and spouses and children probably also have some access to editing and deleting power. I looked at the time log of when people saw the post, but haven't been able to figure anything definitive out.

So, should I let it drop? Should I make one more passing comment on the thread? I find this really strange...
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Election Night 2008

Today, the UPS man drove up to deliver my Barack Obama bumper stickers that I ordered back in early September. And, while I ordered an interesting oval emblazoned with "Yes We Can", I got a plain old Obama '08. Oh well. They probably waited until after the election to send out everyone's backordered gear hoping that we would be so overjoyed with the election results we wouldn't feel angry about out seriously late and replaced orders.

We wanted to go to friends to watch election returns. But, alas, babysitters for late evenings on school nights are impossible to locate. So, we resorted to staying at home, with our own election night events. We hustled the kids into bed and got out our own dinner. We decided to go with liberal, elite food, although perhaps good old fashioned chili and apple pie would be more in the spirit of Obama's campaign. Instead, though, we opted for steak sandwiches on pesto bread with arugula and goat cheese, goat cheese stuffed mushrooms, and chocolate souffle.

The first thrill of the night was hearing Pennsylvania called for Obama. Ohio followed shortly afterwards, and all of a sudden, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Obama had it in the bag. It was exciting to watch the electoral and see red states change to blue states. Virginia! Exciting. Florida? Fabulous. And what??? Indiana??? For Obama? Wow! I filled out my election bracket and even I, who wanted to generate a landscape shifting, full sweep for Obama, didn't pick Indiana to go for him. So far, though, it was the only state I mis-predicted.. And if Missouri goes for McCain then I have 50/51. Yippee!

Just after 10 pm our time, when the west coast polls closed and the networks began calling the election for Obama, there was a knock on our door. Our neighbor D came over to bask in an Obama victory. A couple of minutes later, there was another knock, and the whole J family was on the doorstep with champagne and goblets. D brought us some Sierra Mist, and we went out and toasted to 4 years with Obama. It was an unseasonably warm day, so we stood outside talking for quite a while .

Then, back inside to hear the concession and victory speeches. I was moved to tears by McCain. He was gracious and kind, and maybe I'm being naive, but he made me believe that he would work with President Obama on all these huge issues America faces. I wondered if he regretted the nasty turns his campaign took at the end. From his speech:

In a contest as long and difficult as this campaign has been, his success alone commands my respect for his ability and perseverance. But that he managed to do so by inspiring the hopes of so many millions of Americans who had once wrongly believed that they had little at stake or little influence in the election of an American president is something I deeply admire and commend him for achieving.

This is an historic election, and I recognize the special significance it has for African-Americans and for the special pride that must be theirs tonight.

. . .

I urge all Americans — I urge all Americans who supported me to join me in not just congratulating him, but offering our next president our good will and earnest effort to find ways to come together, to find the necessary compromises, to bridge our differences, and help restore our prosperity, defend our security in a dangerous world, and leave our children and grandchildren a stronger, better country than we inherited.

And then, to listen to President-Elect Obama. It was inspiring to see the throngs of people who had gathered in Grant Park and in downtown Chicago to celebrate. I loved looking at all the different faces--old and young, black, brown, and white, and from across the entire economic spectrum. Looking at them, I saw the broad swath of Americans who have supported him and I felt hope that the polarization that has divided our country might lessen. Again, probably naive, but the line from Lincoln that Obama quoted is what I want to hang my hat on:

“We are not enemies, but friends — though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection.”

I loved his invocation of Ann Nixon Cooper, the 106 year old voter, and the way he was able to use her lifetime to talk about the progress we have made as Americans.

As he spoke, my heart was in my throat and I couldn't hold back the tears. This is such a milestone for our country. "If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible,... tonight is your answer." I was moved seeing Jesse Jackson's tear stained face.
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Yes We Can

Images from last night




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Gang of Pirates

Happy Halloween!

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Baby monster

Baby Z's latest fun trick
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Dear Minnesota,

I know I've talked bad about you behind your back. That Mother's Day when it still wasn't spring? I was plain mean to you. I hated you--I admit it. And those bitter cold days when all I wanted to do was bury my head in my pillow and cry? I couldn't say enough terrible things about you.

So, I probably don't deserve any gifts from you. But, I sure am glad that Halloween is so perfect. It feels like fall, not winter today. I'm thrilled I don't have to dress my kids in their coats, hats, and gloves like that first Halloween we were here. And I keep hearing about that ghastly Halloween blizzard of '91. But, this day is the best of what fall has to offer. And even though all of the leaves are gone from most of my trees, that stubborn maple in the front has finally turned yellow and is just now dropping its leaves. It feels like maybe winter isn't quite about to turn the corner on me.

Anyway, thanks. I'll try to remember this day when the winter seems like it will never end.

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Yes, I'm from Minnesota

But, she's not my representative. Ugh. I had to giggle when I heard how much money her opponent raised since her inflammatory statements.

I am really sick of the argument from Palin and others that people who don't support them aren't real Americans. Jon Stewart hit the nail on the head about this last night.

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Coraline

By Neil Gaiman.

Creepy. Coraline discovers a mirror world just on the other side of a door in her flat that supposedly leads to nowhere. She finds her other mother and her other father. Perhaps the strangest detail about them: they have black button eyes. She has to save herself, rescue her true parents, and save the souls of three other children using her wits and summoning her bravery.

The black cat that can travel between the worlds is a marvelous and enigmatic character. "We -- we could be friends, you know," Coraline says to the cat, which replies back to her "We could be rare specimens of an exotic breed of African dancing elephants." Nevertheless, the cat stays with her, and even provides help, later on.

Creepy. And perfect for October. I wonder when I should encourage MJ to read it. Maybe next October.

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In Defense of Food

By Michael Pollan. Because I'm lazy, I'm just going to basically copy my GoodReads review for this one.

The best part of this book is the way Pollan disuputes the basic premises of nutrional science--the whole idea that food can be simply reduced to its nutritional components, that the primary purpose of eating is to maintain health, and that the effects of nutrients can be scientifically measured. It made me realize how much nutrional science shapes what and how I think about food.

However, I found myself bogged down into too many details of antioxidents and amino acids and other nutritional explanations. And to me, it didn't deliver the profound punch of Omnivore's Dilemma. I liked this one so much better and decided to change my GoodReads rating from 4 to 5 stars. It started out as an article for the NYTimes Magazine, and reading that may have been enough for me. I listened to a podcast of a talk he gave in SLC and liked the summarized version a lot better.

The last section on some practical applications of his ideas has made me think a lot more about the kinds of ingredients in foods. I've looked at a lot of food labels to see what's in my food and I think it is a good idea to go to less processed foods. Maybe I will pull out the old bread maker and bake bread for us.
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Melancholy

All the leaves have fallen off two of the trees in my yard. And another tree is just about totally done too. It happened so fast--we went from trees full of yellow leaves to piles of crunchy leaves on the ground in a matter of a few days. At least we still have some reds and other green left. When I stopped to think about it a couple of days ago, I realized that we have had leaves for only 5 months this year since spring was so late in coming.

A few years ago, we were talking about fall with a friend. And he said that while he loved fall, the threat of winter loomed over him and he couldn't fully enjoy it. I thought that was strange and somewhat silly. But, this is exactly how I feel this year. Summer rushed by. I didn't get sick of the long days of sunshine or the heat. I wasn't ready for the cooler weather. And yet, here it already is. Every time I see the leaves falling, I feel a little depressed.

The thing I like least about living here is the long winter and the bitter cold parts of winter. I made AJ promise that we would never even consider living somewhere colder than here.

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Tastes of Fall

In the last week, we have eaten wild rice soup, tomato basil parmesan soup, and pumpkin curry soup. On Sunday, we ate Italian tortellini soup for dinner. I made gingersnaps with pumpkin dip for my book group last Tuesday. And we've already had a couple of apple crisps. I love the tastes of fall!

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Ode to the New Yorker

It all began in the spring of 2004. I was helping some friends in a move. "Helping" by writing down what the professional moves put into packing boxes. They were packing the kitchen and each box took a fair amount of time, what with having to wrap all the dishes. I didn't bring any reading material with me, so my friend handed me a copy of the New Yorker. She had picked it up at a newsstand because the cover article was about Israeli settlers and the problems that have cropped up with these fierce Zionists. It was one of those dense 20-page-no-pictures New Yorker articles that goes on and on, but is engaging and fascinating and meaty. I didn't finish it before I had to leave, and had to get an online copy later. But, before I got to that article, I started by reading a profile of a young Illinois state representative who was running for senate. It was the first time I ever heard of Barack Obama. And after I heard him speak at the 2004 DNC convention, I was smitten. (wiping a tear from my eye now.)

I started subscribing to the New Yorker shortly afterwards, and have never let my subscription lapse. I have read a good portion of every New Yorker since then.

Recently, I have been trying to catch up on my New Yorker reading. We were out of town for several weeks in August. By the time we got back, there were three or four waiting for me. And I haven't really caught up since then. This past week, I was in the middle of several issues. I think it was because of where they were located around the house--one near my bed that I read before going to sleep, one in the kitchen that was easy to grab while eating breakfast and lunch, and one in the front room that I would read at random times. That's very different than my normal New Yorker reading pattern. So, I am very happy to report that I have put to rest the issues I was simultaneously reading.

This is how I usually read a New Yorker. I first look at the cover art. More on that later. Then, I browse the table of contents to see what I have to look foward to. I must read sequentially: I start with the first tidbit in Talk of the Town and go to the cartoon caption contest on the last page. When I first started getting it in the mail, I obsessively read it from cover to cover. I have gotten to the point where I can skip articles now after I have read at least the first little bit of them. I often skip the theater and music reviews at the end. And I rarely read the fiction or Shouts and Murmers, the humor page. AJ skips around. He'll glance at one article, start reading another, and he usually always starts with Shouts and Murmers. No, not me. I like being systematic in my New Yorker reading.

Ok, about the covers. Mostly they are interesting and tied to some current event. It was fun to see the New Yorker in the news a while back with the infamous Barack-and-Michelle-as-terrorists-and-flag-burners cover. (I thought the tumult was way overblown about that, by the way. ) The anniversary issue always has a man in a top hat with a monocle, the classic New Yorker image, and this year's--in the middle of primary season-- had a double image of Barack and Hillary. I have been saving covers that I really like for a while now, and a few years back, AJ took a few of them to make me a collage of covers. It's hanging in our office now. And I still need to frame a cover I put up top from November 2006 of a man sitting on a mountain of books reading. I want to hang it in my reading corner.

When I think back on my New Yorker reading, there are so many great articles that spring to mind: the inner working of UPS, the wonders and craziness of Dubai, a portrait of short cooks in Las Vegas, the series on climate change by Elizabeth Kolbert, the coverage of Iraq including the abominable US treatment of Iraqi's who assisted us (i.e., translators and the like), the immigration holding center in Texas where families are detained, the Pluto-as-planet? controversy. I could go on and on. The writers are top notch--some of my favorites, in addition to Kolbert, are Malcolm Gladwell, Jeffrey Toobin, and Atul Gawande. I love the New Yorker because the content is not really about current events, although there is some of that of course. It's just interesting and engaging topics that I would probably never learn about it other ways. The people profiled spring to life from their pages.

I have been getting emails and seeing the magazine advertisements about the New Yorker festival which just happened in NYC. Events are scattered around the city, with talks, panels, and readings. Oooh. I dream about going someday.

I always tend to gush when I meet a fellow New Yorker reader. I immediately feel like we're kindred spirits and I tend to talk non-stop about the New Yorker until I realize what I'm doing and get embarrassed. I have daydreamed about crosstabbing the New Yorker subscriptions with the church's MLS data base to get a list of Mormon New Yorker readers in my area because wouldn't we all want to get together for dinner? And couldn't we all be great friends?

As a final indicator of my New Yorker geekiness: Every time I see the complete New Yorker on portable hard drive (including every page of every issue from February 1923), I get excited. I covet. My practical self says I wouldn't do much of anything with it. But that doesn't make the hunger for it dissipate at all. Even if I just browsed the cover art, wouldn't it be worth it? Wouldn't it????

Well, the politics issue hit my mail box this week. I think I'm going to go snuggle up in my bed and crack the cover.



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Reading this Week

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
We read this one for book group this month. I wasn't too excited to read it--a few years back I read it when AJ's mom told me how much she liked it, and after I finished, I wondered what all the fuss was about. I reread it in the few days right before book group and it was good to reread. I thought it was a great portrait of a time and place (Brooklyn, Williamsburg, right before WWI) and it was honest in its portrayal of the grinding reality of poverty. The preface to the edition I read, written by Anna Quindlen, talked about how it was both honest and true. True--meaning that it speaks to issues much larger than the book itself. I didn't see those as much. Maybe because I sped through it? Or maybe because they didn't resonate with me? Not sure, but most people I know love this book. I thought it was good. And a fine choice, but I didn't love it.

The City of Ember by Jeanne Deprau
One of the girls in my primary class has talked a lot about this book, so I decided to pick it up. It's a children's book--in fact, I wondered if MJ could handle it. Maybe in a few months. The story is about a city that is underground--stores are diminished, light bulbs are running out, and the massive generator is failing. Like most children's literature, the two heros of the book are children who have little adult supervision or intervention. They happen upon the secret to leave the city and embark on the journey out, with the intention to find a way to help rescue the rest of the city residents. The plot stretched credulity at time, the characters were not nuanced, the writing was so-so, but I can see how a kid would really like this book.

I'm ready to turn back to some good non-fiction. I just got Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food from the library. I think that will be next.

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Kiki Strike: The Empress's Tomb

By Kirsten Miller. This is the second Kiki Strike book. It was fun, but not as good as the first. I didn't think the story hung together as well and didn't captivate me like Shadow City. Miller introduces a male character into the circle of friends of the Irregulars that I thought didn't really meld into the story. The strengths of the first book--the detective manual aspects and the snide comments about society's under-expectations girls--were not as strong here.
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Words I'm Sick of in this Campaign

Maverick
Main Street
Elite
Politics as usual
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