Lemming's Progress

A Song From Your Childhood

2012-02-06T16:09:00.002-05:00

For all that I cannot read music, I grew up with a fair amount of music around me - well, music composed prior to about 1960. I'm a killer with musicals and learned a fair amount of folk music as a youth, though my parents missed the Beatles, so I did, too.

My knowledge of Disco was limited to Sesame Street. Wait, bear with me.

The disco version of Rubber Duckie is, may I say so, a true moment of musical greatness.

Think about it. "Rubber Duckie" is one of those songs that can be reliably cross-referenced in almost any setting and people will know at least some of it. Even kids whose parents held nothing but rabid hatred of PBS and all for which it stands could not possibly have escaped life without hearing this tune, and that goes double or nothing if your parents are college educated and placed strict limits on your television viewing.

(I will never understand why I could watch wildebeests getting devoured by lions on Nova but not Mork & Mindy. I will never understand this thought process. I'm not even sure that they'd seen the show; it aired on commercial television and that was enough.)

The creators of Sesame Street for my generation recognized that parents, older siblings, babysitters, etc. would end up watching the shows, at least in passing, with the toddlers. The occasional "late night special" included plenty of nods to this audience. For one special, shot ~1970, the cast got locked into the Met for the night. (Just try making a show with that premise that post 9/11. There's not a kid in New York, let alone by isolated rural town, who would buy it.)

Titled "Don't Eat the Pictures" (a name later used by the Met for an exhibit)the story is a hoot and a half even to me as an adult. Cookie Monster sings: the title track , which I loved as a kid and still sing in museums.

Don't even get me started with Mr. Rodgers...

A Song That Makes You Feel Guilty

2012-02-02T10:50:00.000-05:00

huh?

I cannot think of a single song that makes me feel guilty.

Cleopatra: A Life

2012-01-16T12:11:00.001-05:00

Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff Little, Brown & Co; 2010

Opinions on this book seem quite divided within our group. We all seem to have taken an informal approach to it, so I will join in that vein. ("Baaa, baa," I hear you cry. Cleo trained to be a ruthless and clever schemer; I trained to make intellectual comments about the development of their romance novel over a thirty year period.)

Some of us disliked the speculative nature of this book. I didn't mind that angle at all, particularly given that, as Schiff notes, it's difficult to preserve papyrus and Alexandria is underwater. With the passage of time and the handicap of history written by victors, a paucity of direct and flattering information on Cleopatra is inevitable at best. ("[T]he turncoats wrote the history." page 297) To my mind, Schiff did an excellent job at presenting the culture around Cleopatra; she even managed to make me interested in the many intersections between political, personal and family power over the years.

Perhaps it is my love of mystery novels that slants my bias, but I enjoyed reading what Schiff could tease out from the narratives of Cleopatra's enemies toward presenting multiple possible motivations and opinions. That which the turncoats wrote guarantees that many layers of myth could and did build up, which makes what lies beneath all the more interesting to me. I am not left persuaded that Cleopatra harbored any deep emotional affection for Mark Antony, Taylor/ Burton/ Shakespeare be damned, but I do come away persuaded that she understood Antony far better than perhaps anyone else in her life.

I'm most struck, though I'm not sure Schiff intended this, by the immense lack of privacy in Cleopatra's life. Obviously the standards for privacy two thousand years ago for a woman born a goddess differ quite a bit from my own in 2012, but to have one's every moment known widely abroad, and almost certainly used as a weapon later on, must have taken an immense toll upon Cleopatra and her contemporaries. The need for large-scale public demonstration of status to as to maintain that position eliminated a certain amount of security.

In a perfect world, I could assign Chapter IX, "The Wickedest Woman In History" to a wide audience. Schiff delineates the ways in which a life gets recast and revised (reshaped, etc.) to fulfill particular agendas that change over time. In an era when we keep being promised "unbiased" news, Schiff offers a healthy reminder.

I grew up with an image of Cleopatra as a clever and capable ruler, one who killed to preserve her own status and one who took life on her own terms; I admired this. It was disconcerting to learn later on about "evil Cleopatra" she who slept around, seduced "innocent" men like Caesar and all of that therein. Elizabeth Taylor might have sullied Cleopatra for a generation, but I have to ask how many people who might sneer at Cleopatra today have seen Taylor in the role. Most of the people I meet read Shakespeare only in high school, and they read one of the tragedies, or possiblyA Midsummer Night's Dream. In my biased opinion, Cleopatra primarily lives on in pop culture as Queen of Egypt, rather than as Shakespeare and his kith saw her. Example: she gets a passing reference, with the implication that she's a desirable woman whom the Doctor knows well in the new series of Doctor Who.

To be remembered as a ruler, beautiful and brilliant, with the men of her life a bit vague, is pretty good for a woman whose deeds live on through the words of the turncoats.

A Song You Wish You Could Play

2011-12-29T15:56:00.001-05:00

I'm not sure how this differs from the previous topics, but I hate to give up so close to the end.

As I've said, I am not particularly talented at any musical instrument, but I've already had to ponder what I would play if I could play an instrument... so I suppose this topic is supposed to be a piece of music suited to something I can play that I just can't perform.

I started singing in the church choir when I was six and I've sung in a variety of different capacities since then. As more than one person has told me, sometimes kindly and sometimes not so kindly, I cannot read music and I audition terribly, which definitely limited the experiences I could have that might possibly have, you know, improved my ability to read music and perform better at auditions. There's nothing wrong with my voice (and I did have the lead in the high school musical, thank you very much) (the director knew I could sing, just not audition) but it's been next to impossible to find a situation in which I didn't have to audition but would be pushed enough to learn.

About two years ago, I switched congregations and joined the church choir. This I do not say lightly, on either point. The church appealed in part because I wanted a place with strong solid music, and I spent several months listening to the choir and thinking that there was absolutely no way that I would ever be able to pant behind the group, let alone keep up. Note that I joined *after* Christmas and well before Easter; I thought I would escape challenges for a while. Ha! They threw me into Evensong rehearsals right away.

This choir is hard core, work you hard, push you harder and then give you an extra shove. Because God is kind, the woman who sits next to me teaches music to grade schoolers. With a great deal of patience (I marvel at how many times she is able to calmly remind me of the same basic principles of music theory) I am slowly but surely learning stuff I wish I'd learned at six or sixteen or even twenty-six. I can often, though not always, hear a chord, and where I fit in it. I know what's a crunchy chord and why they can be good. When I mess up I am more likely to know that I have messed up, though that's not to say that I get it right the next time through.

By the by, I should say that this choir laughs a lot and that it's a really incredible group of people. All of this work is fun (work, but fun) because of them, and the director works hard to keep it that way.

Last year, because this is a hard core choir, we did Bogoroditse Devo as part of Christmas. Yes, that is High Church Slovonic. Yes, it is a bear of a piece, and we sang it about twice as fast. Really. Last year, I would have listed this piece as my goal, the Song I Wish I Could Sing.

We did it again this year - with the help of the endlessly patient teacher, I did it. Ha! Take that, High Church Slovonic sadists!

I suppose that my goal this year is to approach a Mag & Nunc, any Mag & Nunc, without fear and trembling. 'cos they last a lot longer...

A Song Your Wish You Could Play On an Instrument

2011-12-12T12:20:00.000-05:00

I come to the conclusion that as this meme wore on, many people grew tired. I base this assumption on the many titles I have seen for today's question.

Despite effort and hopes, I am a terrible instrumentalist. To quote a report, I "lack subtlety, have no sense of emotion and play piano as though attacking the keys."

Ouch.

Anyway, were I able to play the piano, I would tackle either part (two pianos) to the Overture to the Fantastiks.

a song you can play on an instrument

2011-11-30T14:04:00.001-05:00

Back when Jimmy Cater was president, I took recorder lessons. I wish I'd stuck with them - recorders are lightweight, can be safely broken down into many pieces, and they make a cool noise. I moved on to the clarinet, at which I was pretty lousy, and my feeble attempt to learn piano in college merited only snickers and pity. (Musical subtlety is not my talent.) A year ago I held a clarinet again after twenty seven years and I didn't remember where to put my fingers.

However, I still remember all of the theme to Star Wars on the recorder, and play it when no one else can hear me.

I've also been known to play a little J.S. Bach Anna Magdalena Notebook but only when I cannot be heard.

mortality

2011-11-21T12:03:00.001-05:00

Bill died.

Bill had cancer, beat it and treated every moment afterward as a gift. Bill wasn't the type to take up sky-diving or try to bed as many blondes as possible. Bill ate good meals, watched multitudes of documentaries, and enjoyed needling all of us.

The cancer came back. I didn't hear from him. I knew it was coming. I still wasn't ready.

You rested on your laurels at your own expense - Bill knew no respect. Bill's redemption? He knew that sometimes a person [b]believes[/b] and there is no justification; you believe with every fiber of your being. Bill held that in highest esteem. He pushed everyone, and he rewarded those who pushed back; he esteemed those who put their beliefs into deeds. He worked me harder than any other student ever will.

Since he did not believe in a higher power, I will not pray or light candles for Bill, though I wish him peace. I will miss saying, "yes, you think Zinn is wrong, but you need to know what he [i]says[/i] and Bill agreeing that I might be forty years younger than he, but that I'm right, liberals can be thoughtful, and that he should think about issues all the way through to present day, be it current events or tobacco planting in 1610.

Also his chicken recipe. It's tasty.

Damnit.

review of Cold Comfort Farm

2011-11-15T11:23:00.002-05:00

Review for the Invisible Friends Book Club -

While reading Cold Comfort Farm last night (it’s a good ‘one sitting’ book) I had a nagging feeling that the storyline and the main character, Flora, reminded me very strongly of another book and protagonist, but couldn’t quiet pin it down.

This morning, I realized – author Stella Gibbons is taking a leaf out of Patrick Dennis’ classic (In My Humble Opinion, and this is my blog) novel Auntie Mame.. For those of you whom haven’t read Mame and, no, the movie and the travesty of a movie musical are not the same, Dennis’ novel starts with the narrator reading a piece about an Unforgettable Character. The Unforgettable Character is generally a maiden aunt, gray haired and sweet, who suddenly acquires a baby, whom she then raises while facing a series of life challenges. Each chapter of Mame opens with an update on what the typical Unforgettable Character would do when faced with a challenge (unemployment, wartime, impending marriage of loved one, etc.) that would somehow make everything work out splendidly.

Naturally, Dennis’ heroine, Mame, is faced with challenges and meets them, but always in over-the-top style, her subtlety often shrouded in camp and dramatic flair, but all is right in the end and Mame’s wisdom proven yet again. (I think this was also the plot-line used for most episodes of the sit-com Cybil but I digress. Both Gibbons and Dennis did it better.)

Gibbons gives her readers an Unforgettable Character, in this case the nearly penniless and orphaned Flora. Flora, unwilling to take up a trade, elects to approach her nearest relatives for a home. Most Unforgettable Characters would appeal to such relations in a spirit of humility, mercy and desperation. Flora? She’s far more practical, almost mercenary, about this approach.

“I am only nineteen, but I have observed that while there is still some foolish prejudice against living on one’s friends, it is perfectly respectable to ask one’s relations to provide one with a one. Now I am peculiarly (I think if you could see some of them, you would agree that is the correct word) rich in relations, on both sides of the family.” (page19)

Naturally it is the dullest of her relations who offer to take Flora in, with the lone mysterious note that something that will never be told happened such that the family owes her a favor. The family turns out to be quite peculiar (milking cows in their sleep) and live in peculiar circumstances and in a peculiar house, surrounded by peculiar neighbors and a peculiar town. Everyone has an unmet need, and Flora, who feels that she is adept at creating order from chaos, sets about meeting each one in eccentric fashion. Note: she does take the precautionary measure of asking a friend to send her boots.

The Mame meme continues – from the names of the livestock to Gibbons’ manufactured bits of Sussex dialogue, Gibbons is determined to make the reader laugh along and recognize satire and, moreover, to enjoy them. Dennis would have approved, and Cold Comfort Farm is an enjoyable read, but I have to say that I think Dennis did it better. I never did figure out why so many people in Sussex did as Flora told them. Mame used her charm, her wealth and her love; Flora arrived at Cold Comfort Farm and immediately started bossing people about. Did they obey out of habit?

One aspect that drove me wild with frustration is that Gibbons gives no indication as to when this story is set. She would drop in a hint and I’d do some quick math, only to learn a few pages later that my guess had to be off by several decades, if not centuries.

This is a thoroughly enjoyable book, I hasten to add, a really great romp, and I think that the best bits are the woodcut illustrations throughout the book. The one on page 44 “There’s no butter in hell!” (great line) looks like something from Lewis Carroll, but reminded me most of Uncle Andrew in The Magician's Nephew.

A Song That Makes You Laugh

2011-11-03T14:23:00.001-04:00

Plenty of music makes me smile. A song that makes me laugh is trickier - I love a good laugh, but Eddie Izzard doesn't sing.

Note: I have watched this Izzard routine over and over and over and it cracks me up every single time.

I haven't heard Gimme That Old Time Religion since my freshman year of college, but I still laugh at:

Let us pray with Aphrodite
let us pray with Aphrodite
She wears that see-through nightie
and it's good enough for me

We will pray with Zarathustra
we'll pray just like we usta
I'm a Zarathustra boosta
and it's good enough for me.

We will pray with those old Druids
They drink fermented fluids
running amuck in the woo-oods
and it's good enough for me.

I know who played me the LP of this song that I liked, but no idea who sang it. I'll have to ask him for details one of these days. (Um, yeah) Ah, the man who got away... wait, that's a different song.

A Song You Want to Play at Your Funeral

2011-10-09T18:50:00.000-04:00

I do not wish to play any song at my funeral.

First of all, I will be dead, and thus in no condition to perform in any capacity as relates to music.

Second, though I do like music, I'd rather have someone else perform. Preferably this person or persons would be good enough to raise a tear or two, and inspire people to say, "gosh, this church has some nice tunes." A lot of the people I would hope would consider attending my funeral aren't really church-goers, so I'd ideally get to share with them some of why I am.

Sheesh, but I sound preachy: sorry.

For the sake of argument, I'll assume that the question's intent is, "what song would you choose to have performed at your funeral?"

Serious answer: lots of good, loud, chestnut-style hymns. I tend to like some of the quirky ones ("Come Labor On" "God is Working His Purpose Out") that not a lot of folks know and fewer like. I want this music to be fun and moving for those who sing it yes, congregation, I mean you) so something such as For All the Saints, which goes on for many verses, would be ideal.

Note: I picked this YouTube version because it's a kid playing with mastery of the instrument, and you can his see feet and hands: way cool, very well done.

OK, so the funeral is over and some of my loved ones have no desire to set foot in a sacred space again - what now? Something pretty and soft, please - maybe a little Mozart.

A Song Your Want Played at Your Wedding

2011-10-03T21:13:00.000-04:00

I know it's trite, but I love The Widor Toccata which, I know is properly known as the fifth movement. Don't get me wrong, I am a geek enough to know that the whole piece rocks, but I love this bit. If I had a long enough train, a huge bouquet and a grin the size of Belgium on my face, this would be my recessional.

However, I am a coward.

A Song You Listen To When You Are Sad

2011-09-20T10:14:00.000-04:00

I think the real question is, why are you listening to music whilst feeling sad?

If the answer is that you hope the music will improve your mood, then I choose something loud and obnoxious, such as:

Dancing With Myself because after a few moments of sentimentality for fraternity parties when I was in college and could stay up dancing until 3 AM, I'm laughing too hard to be sad.

Cast parties often last until well after 3 AM, but the music usually got turned off by then - except for the years when we could party in the theater, but that's another story that I won;t post on-line.

If, on the other hand, you want to have a really good wallow, sob for a bit and feel generally morose, then:

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas a family trying to be brave and feeling that all is lost. This is maudlin well done, and never fails to make me cry.

P.S. I maintain that I have shown great courage in holding off on Judy Garland this long.

"The Help" - book club observations

2011-09-15T11:52:00.002-04:00

Our Invisible Friends Book Club has been reading The Help over the last few weeks. As per the rules of the club, here are my thoughts -

The Help: A Novel by Kathryn Stockett - Penguin - 2009

For the record, the waiting list at my local library was quite long, but my church library had a copy. As I say to the people who dislike the Harry Potter series, hey, at least people are reading something with plot and vocabulary words.

My apologies if I run on too long, but I have a lot to say... what else is new?

I fully expected Help to be a very readable story, told in a strong narrative voice, with attention paid to presenting the different points if view of each character. In this, I'd argue that Stockett succeeded in spades. It was very easy to follow the different points of view and understandings of a certain situation or relationship, and she did a great job at referring back to certain moments from time to time to let us see how they played out for different levels.

I also expected a few of the usual stereotypes to fall into play - I admit that I read a lot about this novel in People magazine and almost as much about the movie - with the clueless white woman, the nasty white woman, the tough African-American, the maid with a heart of gold, etc. I think Stockett did a good job at trying to make them multi-faceted, but the basic tropes still held.

That having been said, I think it's entirely possible to write novels that run the same tropes over and over again and do it well. To my mind, the romance novelist Victoria Holt did this brilliantly. One can use a formula over and over again with twists and keep it fresh.

My first problem with Help is that the formula didn't have twists. Stockett executed it well, but I anticipated every single one. Maybe this is due to my having read too much chick lit (I have another theory, but more on that in a second) but even if I hadn't read People I could have anticipated every piece of this plot from the get go. Now, is this a negative vote? Not necessarily - remember that Victoria Holt is predictable - but I did keep waiting for a surprise.

My second problem has less to do with Stockett than with the need that she is trying to address and some questions that I think she leaves unexplored.

1) Need - as a history teacher, I bang my head into my hands every day against the ignorance people have about American History. Stockett is making an admirable effort, with hindsight as 20-20, to shake people out of complacency about issues of race in the 50s and 60s - some of which endure. (Illegally employed nannies, anyone?) I think some (not all) Americans are finally able to look at the separate toilets issue as silly, but we're repeating it with headscarves today.

I've never lived in the south, but I have lived in apartments in Chicago that were designed with tiny bedrooms and attached bathrooms for the maid. Full bathrooms.

2)OK, speaking of history, here's where I think Stockett misses a truly amazing opportunity. She sets up the character of Minny as a well-intentioned but blunt woman who stays in an unhappy marriage because she has a man and that's status. She should have mentioned or referenced the findings of Daniel Patrick Moynihan's report on The Negro Family and how the single parent (and grandparent) households' experiences and needs tied in with the events of the book. The Federal Government did a lot to encourage single mother households - unintentionally, but the legacy dates back to the Great depression. (If you want a bibliography, I can oblige.)

Yes, I am demanding more. If this is a novel with a history lesson to people who hated high school history class, more history needs to be presented. DPM's committee's observations should have been pushed further forward.

OK, really, I'm almost done.

This group is a lot of fun to me because we bring a huge array of reading backgrounds - we all love books, but we have different preferences. Though I have compared Help to Holt's novels, I have to throw in the caveat that I kept hoping that this would be an Agatha Christie style text. Where Holt throws twists, if you read a lot of Christie, you discover that she throws tornadoes. I was hoping for a storm, but it never came.

I would love to listen to a panel of Stockett and Sharyn McCrumb, - McCrumb writes mysteries with many of the same issues Stockett addresses, but with a more deft hand. McCrumb addresses alcoholism, race and bias very well. What I think the two have in common is that they both examine the pecking order that starts so young and lasts a lifetime. We may pretend that the popular kids and the bullies don't win, but they do hold immense sway, particularly in small communities. I do not say towns, I say communities. Even in 2011, the game of knowing to whom you must be polite, with whom you must flirt, with whom you must be docile, etc. is still very much with us, "late and soon" and I do think that Stockett nails this angle.

All in all, I'd call this a mixed bag. The plot is predictable, but the narrative is engaging. There are missed opportunities, but the mantra that one lives on in the love and example set for children is truly awesome.

A Song You Listen To When Happy

2011-09-09T10:10:00.000-04:00

"As Soon as the Sun Comes Down" by Animal Logic

Animal Logic

Animal Logic was something of a "let's get folks together and make an album" situation. Stewart Copeland of the Police is probably the name best known, but I love the sound of Deborah Holland's voice, and I think it's very noteworthy that she wrote most of the songs on the group's albums.

I had a boyfriend with the self-titled CD, but his brother "borrowed" it and it never came back. This prevented me from borrowing it and having a similar case of amnesia. A friend with the CD and without such a boyfriend's brother copied the album onto cassette for me (hey, this is what college students did before we worried about file sharing.) Now that I don't have a cassette player, this song only plays in my head, but I can still hear every bit.

This is a terrible recording of "Sun," obviously done live, but it's all I could find on You Tube.

As Soon as the Sun Comes Down"

Holland's voice is obviously tired - on the album, the notes of this song come out as a low purr.

a song you listen to when angry

2011-08-29T14:35:00.001-04:00

I skipped "Song From Favorite Album" as I just couldn't pick a single album, and by the time I'd waxed on about all of the ones I love, I'd still be hard pressed to select just one song.

There's a lot of Sondheim that's great for being angry - "Could I Leave You" from Follies possibly being the best, even if I'm not angry at or with a person. I think this song is most effective when sung by a man, though it's written for a woman, so if I hear it in my head, I hear a second tenor gnashing through the rhymes, insults and nastiness.

"Good Luck" by Basement Jaxx is on the soundtrack to Queer Eye For The Straight Guy (oh, how I mourned when that show jumped the shark, so thoroughly, all in one episode...)

Good Luck

It is impossible to listen to this song at a low volume. It is meant to be played loudly. You don't just hear or feel the rage (or both) - it screams at you on all levels.

A Song You Wish You Heard on the Radio

2011-08-19T11:45:00.000-04:00

Years ago, one of the Indianapolis radio stations (best of the 80s - loved it) announced that in a week or so, their format would be changing. In the meantime they would play (obvious choice) television theme songs.

Here's the catch - they did this for three days with no disc jockeys. They'd play a theme song, but with no information. Half of the time I would hear the opening notes and know - "love, exciting and new" or it would be http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjpCU4Zy9Cs the theme music to Dynasty or http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2S6ZQn9lvk to Unsolved Mysteries and I'd yell the name. Other times, I'd know that I knew the tune, but could not place it: drove me bonkers, but I loved it.

I listened to that radio station pretty much non-stop for three days. It was awesome. Then it started all Spanish content, and that was the end of my fun.

I won't want to hear a song on the radio - I want those three days of, "wait! I know this!" back. So instead of a song, I wish to have a station that only plays television theme songs.

A Song You Always Hear On the Radio

2011-08-17T15:59:00.000-04:00

Believe it or not, I have no answer for this question. Almost all of my radio listening is NPR and the BBC International News and I don't really count their theme music as songs, though I do hope that their composers were well paid.

A Song You Once Loved, But Now Hate

2011-08-05T20:10:00.000-04:00

Tricky - I tend to be fiercely loyal beyond the point of reason or rationality, whether it be people, places, things ("so I unpacked my adjectives") or music.

"Have Some Madeira, M'Dear"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrbAyHVVYgI

by the Limelighters struck me as very funny as a kid. As an adult, I realized that it is, technically, about date rape, hence much less funny.

Interesting how much the world has changed - in the sixties, a group that encouraged brotherhood, etc. got laughs with a song like this. As a history teacher, I get the humor, but it's a lot more creepy now.

A Song That Describes You

2011-07-09T13:59:00.001-04:00

Whew! I've been pondering this one for a while.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cj7z96PuBOs

"Jesus Child" by John Rutter is one of the pieces that I have such joy and such fun in singing. I have posted this particular version partly because the choir has clearly worked at it... and partly because I love seeing the men come dashing in (having obviously not been aware that they were on) and yet they jump right it. May I add that this is not an easy piece to need said jump - it goes very fast, and there's enough repetition that you've got to stay focused, so it speaks to this choir that the late men could make that leap. (Also to the women that they didn't beat the men soundly with their music folders...) This is hilarious and spirited. Given that I love to sing, and I love to laugh, and that singing church music has been a large part of my life for (cough) years, this describes me.

Sort of fits me.

"Shy" from Once Upon a Mattress is also a good fit.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouL9ZMzEZ4k

This was one of my big numbers when I had the lead in the high school musical. I honestly think that the director chose the show for this song for me, because he knew that though I'm an extrovert, I actually am very shy. For those not in the know, this is Carol Burnett in her break-out role, singing at the top of her lungs about being shy, which is pretty much what I do.

Sort of fits me.

As long as I'm on Carol Burnett, though, Sondheim's "Could I Leave You" should be mentioned.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3vp2_W95Ks

There's a time and a place to be catty.

Day Thirteen - Song Meme - A Guilty Pleaure

2011-07-06T14:49:00.000-04:00

I've been told that the new "30 Days Meme" is all about musical theater, a genre where I'm more likely to be focused in my replies, and that I am behind the times by only being on day thirteen.

So be it. :-) It's my blog.

Oh, and a recent student evaluation complained that I should not use smiley faces when I write comments. Again, it's my class. So be it.

Speaking of show tunes, I reserve the right to sing (quietly) "The Lusty Month of May" on May Day, and "June is Bustin' Out all Over" on the first of June. One song was written for a soprano and another for an alto, so I can pretend that it's vocal exercise, right? Well, maybe it is, but they're both damned fine songs and I know all the words, so why not?

I think that "guilty pleasure" means "a song you really like, don't know why, but that doesn't matter, you might feel vaguely guilty, or a bit silly, but you like the song anyway, and so what if you think I'm a bit odd." (Well, I am a bit odd.)

"What Fool Believes" by the Doobie Brothers - I'd post a link, but You Tube is being weird - is that guilty pleasure. I blush to think about how high up it is in my itunes frequent play list.

First of all, this is a great song to sing at the top of my lungs when it comes on the car radio, particularly on a sunny day when the windows are open. Secondly, though my music theory and arrangement music and sense of harmony is thin, this song has some great non-sung moments when I love to sing "bump-bump-bump" etc.

Day Twelve of Song meme

2011-07-02T12:23:00.000-04:00

A song from a band you hate

Hmm...

The problem with this question is that if I dislike a band, I'm probably not going to know any of their songs well enough to remember a name of any individual one. To paraphrase Dave Barry, I've caused great pain to my car radio hitting buttons to remove "Maybe I'm Amazed" from my listening space, but I don't hate Paul McCartney.

Years ago, a very musical friend confessed that he hated everything Judy Garland had ever recorded. (I know she's not a band, but bear with me.) After a bit of chat, I went home and made him a copy of Garland singing "Purple People Eater." Friend now says that he hates almost everything Garland ever recorded.

This friend comes to mind because he's one of several people who have tried to make me enjoy the band Rush. Now, I've never heard them do "Purple People Eater" so I am willing to change my mind, but none of their music does anything for me... hence my not being able to name any of their songs.

birthdays

2011-06-28T12:54:00.000-04:00

Today is George's birthday.

George gave new meaning to the word "extrovert" - you could not say "Good Morning" to him without it becoming a fifteen minute conversation. It was always funny, detailed, smart and enjoyable. He cared deeply, believed deeply, and was the first person to stand up for what he thought was right.

Note that I say was. George died, peacefully, several months ago.

I'm staggering with the number of people who have wished George Happy Birthday on Facebook today. His family did post an update to say that he'd left us, but an incredible number of people seem not to have noticed.

George - I noticed. Happy Birthday.

Day Ten - a Song That Makes You Fall Asleep

2011-06-27T07:50:00.000-04:00

I've been alerted that there is a code that will let me embed You Tube links more directly to these posts. Stand by - I might actually learn some technology.

That having been said, no link this time.

At my alma mater, one of the fraternities had a music tradition that has always made me laugh. During Hell Week, pledges had to spend any time that they were not in class, in the library, at meals or in the shower in the fraternity lounge, where one song would get played over and over and over, 24/ 7, for the entire week. One year it was "Ice, Ice Baby" and another year it was "I'm Too Sexy." I confess that the idea that people were trying to sleep to, "I'm too sexy for my cat" still makes me grin.

On a very different note, Mozart wrote plenty of rousing and stirring music, but I confess that I've always preferred his quieter stuff. It's calm and peaceful, and probably has helped more than one student get a slightly higher grade on a paper or exam. Years ago, I picked up a CD called "Mozart For Morning Coffee." It's a collection of works, primarily for strings, that are downright soothing and happy.

There's no individual tune that makes me fall asleep from this disk, but it makes me feel so peaceful and calm that sleep is inevitable. I suppose composing a series of tunes called "A Little Night Music" does make this inevitable.

Day Nine - A Song You Can Dance To

2011-06-23T14:19:00.000-04:00

I loathe, abominate and despise Dumbo.

Put a baby in my arms, and I will automatically rock it and sing "Baby Mine."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7JvL2ap3Cg

A Song You Know All the Words To

2011-06-18T23:22:00.000-04:00

Ahem. This title should be "A Song to Which You Know All the Words" - but I digress. :-) Hey, it's my blog, I can digress if I want.

I have searched You Tube, but I cannot find a good recording, or at least one that meets my standards. "This Plum Is Too Ripe" from The Fantasticks is something I mumble under my breath all too often. Consider the opening:

"This plum is too ripe."
"Sorry."
"Please, don't watch me while I'm eating."
"Sorry."
"You're about to drown that magnolia."
"Sorry."
"You're - standing - in - my - KUMKWATS!!"
"Sorry!!!"

Apart from my soprano envy (some really great bits for the woman's voice in this quartet) this song is such a great expression of frustration. I'm not a composer or musicologist, but my take on the harmonies and whatnot is that this is how many of us argue, be it with a loved one or with the idiot in front of us on the Interstate.

Kumkwats grow on trees. Sometimes I just get so frustrated that I need to think about standing in kumkwats.

Day Seven - Thirty Days of Songs

2011-06-16T16:03:00.000-04:00

A Song The Reminds You of A Particular Event

A great many possibilities here -

"Let the Bright Seraphim" (Handel)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5SNj1AQ8r3w

reminds me very much of the Charles & Diana wedding back in 1981. Yes, I knew said tune at the time... I didn't get out much as a kid. I nearly dropped my breakfast when Kiri Te Kanawa got up and sang something I knew. Not just knew, but loved and still love...

I freely admit that some of this is probably soprano envy. Singing is great fun for me, but it's highly unlikely that I will ever stand in front of an orchestra and belt this piece out, let alone sound half as good as Te Kanawa does at it. She makes this performance all look and sound so effortless... and I'm sure that on that sunny July morning, even though she'd performed the piece countless times, Te Kanawa thought about the size of her international audience and felt at least a little nervous.

The way that the trumpet and the vocal trills come together thrills me no end. This is a piece I truly could listen to over and over again, Royal Wedding or no Royal Wedding. I'm still not entirely sure what it's about, but that doesn't matter.

As a slightly (cough) older person than the starry eyed kid with a bowl of Honey-Nut Cheerios in her lap who watched the wedding with her dog, I'm struck by this being a rather odd choice for a wedding - perhaps this is English tradition, or perhaps it's further proof that Charles didn't quite think through all of the details of marriage before jumping in.

No matter. There's nothing wrong with the occasional fairy tale.

Day Six

2011-06-01T10:32:00.000-04:00

A Song That Reminds You of Somewhere

Oh, this is painfully easy.

As an undergraduate, double majoring and doing honors work in one of those majors at the same time might not have been the wisest academic decision on my part, but I'm damned proud of it, and would like it to be noted in my obituary. Oh, yeah, and I was in a long-distance relationship at the time. Consequently, I did not get a lot of sleep. The day I started hallucinating in class, I realized that I needed to shift a few priorities and get a bit more rest.

(I kept the boyfriend.)

I didn't sleep eight hours each night after that, but I did try to grab at least five. OK, maybe I didn't succeed, but I tried...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCNJBopK25I

Sting's "Fields of Gold" always seemed to be on the radio when I woke up each morning that spring. My bed was next to the window, and I would look out at the basketball court (not very sentimental sounding, I realize) and the trees and the grass and the dew and the village waking up, and I felt so much at peace. This song puts me back to being twenty-one, feeling hope, enthusiasm, and joy - oh, yeah, and a bit of lust for that long-distance boyfriend.

Thirty Days of Songs - Day Five

2011-05-31T10:59:00.001-04:00

A Song That Reminds You Of Someone

The first few answers that come to mind are too personal to post in public. There's another answer that would lead me to write screens and screens of acidic horribleness that might be entertaining to read, but could lead to a lawsuit for slander. (Then again, it might be worth it, hmmm...)

When I worked as a camp counselor, the counselors had a song we listened to only when the kids (and the people in charge) could not hear it. It is the single most filthy song I've ever heard, and just thinking about it brings me back to the utter insanity and the sheer fun of that job, and being with that group of people. I refuse to post a link, but if you google "Eat, Bite" you'll probably find it.

One summer in my youth, my best friend and I, both quite broke, spent a lot of time doing whatever we could to get out of the house that might also be cheap. Loosely translated, this meant a lot of movies at the dollar theater and nursing cups of coffee for as long as possible. "Hands to Heaven" by Breathe

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KC5InWPjtL8

seemed to be constantly on the radio, and we went mad trying to figure out the words to the chorus. It took us far longer that we'd care to admit, but I will never forget being in the Burger King parking lot when he yelled, "tonight you calm my restlessness!"

I miss those days, and wish we now lived less than several thousand miles apart.

Thirty Days of Songs, Day Four: A Song that Makes you Sad

2011-05-28T13:53:00.000-04:00

There are many songs that make me cry tears of sentimentality. I don't think that's what this question wants us to ponder.

Harriet's post about her (now deceased) friend from college I think may be the best I've seen on this topic. I've lost family and friends, far too early and far too soon, but no one with whom I ever so strongly associated any piece of music.

Many moons ago, my mother took me on a trip to Washington, D.C. The Vietnam Memorial was still new, and was among the places we visited. My mother went straight to the part of the wall that she knew would have the names of her high school classmates.

I have seen my mother cry. I have seen my mother sob.

My mother put her hand on the panel with the names and wept, the first and only time I have ever seen her do this. She ran her fingers over the name of every man she knew in high school who didn't make it back home. She stood, very still, and stared at the names, and then made rubbings of the names for their parents, people she hadn't seen in twenty-five years, but she knew that the rubbings would bring comfort when she mailed them to parents, keeping alive the memories, knowing that their names were not lost, would make a difference, that this recognition had been accorded to them in death.

I already knew the song "Goodnight Saigon" by Billy Joel, but it's had a deeper significance ever since seeing my mother, on that sunny day, weeping.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6gZefW4yEA

I didn't plan this (I'm not good with schedules) but as this is Memorial Day, thank you to the men and women who left this country to fight for the protection of what is good, and a particular thanks to the families of the ones who didn't make it home.

At eighteen one might be physically fittest, but that doesn't mean that you have the maturity to handle all that war entails. I felt pretty clueless at eighteen (and nineteen, for that matter) and my biggest challenge was getting to class on time. Faced with jungle, with a war no one seems to have understood, with an enemy not always visible... these men (and some brave women!) "clung to each other/ like brother to brother" and they did their jobs, they did their duty, they tried to do the best, even when it wasn't clear what "best" might be.

I like the opening of this song more than the conclusion - the opening suggests a man who is very much trying to find his feet, to know what to do, how to do it. The end of the song suggestions resignation, knowing that one will die, and however hard life might be, I refuse to give up.

As a slightly older person than I was when standing with Mom at the Vietnam Memorial, what grabs me now is thinking about this song in the context of World War I. I think about the charge at Gallipolis, and the men who left behind their personal possessions and wedding rings, knowing that they were about to die.

Day #3 - A Song That Makes you Happy

2011-05-27T11:07:00.000-04:00

Again, I just get to pick one? Sheesh. :-)

When I was a junior in college I ended up in a dormitory with the best shower ever. I want to emphasize this point. Fantastic shower. Plenty of hot water, plenty of room for your shampoo, conditioner, soap, etc. - and this shower stall just cried out for you to sing in it. I probably annoyed the heck out of everyone else on my floor, but I sang in that shower every day, all year. This shower might have been the reason that I actually passed my biology class.

I am definitely NOT a morning person, but that shower got me up and moving six days a week. (Hey, Saturdays are for sleeping in, right?)

In my sophomore year, my college did a production of Gilbert & Sullivan's The Gondoliers. A year later, I was still singing this song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LgJSIKhqHGE in the shower. It's been (cough) years and I still sing it in the shower. I refuse to sing it in public, (let alone while dry) but it's an awful lot of fun.

Day Two - Your Least Favorite Song

2011-05-26T14:02:00.000-04:00

Again, there are many possible answers.

My first choice would be "Jesus is the Rock and He Rolls My Blues Away," a song I only sang because I was a camp counselor and was being paid to be chipper. This song is even more horrible than the title suggests.

It goes on for five verses. Five.

Harriet chose "And We Danced" by the Hooters for her answer to this question. This startled me. It might be a moral failing on my part, but the same part of me that hates the above mentioned song like a bit of mindless fluff to which one can dance. I liked the Hooters' MTV videos. I wish their music turned up on the radio. The funny sounding mouth organ-type instruments make me grin.

Second choice would be anything by Paul McCartney, with "Silly Love Songs" pretty high in the pantheon. He's trying too hard. He's better than all of us. Mock him if you will (and I will) but he's far above the rest of us. I will go grovel in shame and misery at the sheer thought of this song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AK9QVN0bpa4

Thirty Days of Songs - Day One

2011-05-25T09:35:00.000-04:00

Day One: Your Favorite Song:

OK, I'll start by saying that this meme will probably take me sixty days, rather than thirty. I don't blog every day, I'm going to be out of town for a week, I tend to procrastinate... but enough apologies. I've been challenged, so I'll jump in.

As has been said by so many, it's hard to pick just one song. There's a lot of music that is part of my soul, and that I will probably still be singing in the shower long after I have forgotten much else. I could list endless hymns, random anthems, and any number of lullabies.

I confess to having a weakness for Sondheim, so in the end I went with the song that always makes me cry and makes me feel brave - "Sunday" from Sunday in the Park With George.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eVO9rN5Bk1A

grocery runs

2011-05-16T14:00:00.000-04:00

I did the usual Monday morning run to the mega-grocery store today - bread, milk, pizza, pickles, all lemming staples - and noticed, yet again, just how many of the shoppers alongside me were Dads with toddlers. Said Dads obviously had not woken up, realized that today they had to bring snacks to pre-school and panicked, but had shopping lists and obviously planned to get everything their family needed for the week.

I'm all in favor of stay-at-home dads, but we all know that the economy has generated quite a few dads who now stay at home without ever having planned on doing so.

What really struck me this morning was how many of the dads were laughing and joking with their toddlers. None of the kids had a screaming fit when told they couldn't have fruit snacks, all wore clean clothes and most of the girls had ponytails, braids or other hair accessories. Some of the older children tried to make out letters on the grocery lists.

OK, I confess - I spent much more time people watching than finding pickles; it just struck me as a wonderful bit of humanity at a hard time in our history.

Lord, what fools these mortals be

2011-05-07T15:45:00.000-04:00

Two people whom I know slightly seem to be headed toward a court battle. I've tried to clap on my "historian research hat" (sorry, Necromancy, but no feathers) in being aware of the situation, steering a clear path of being involved... but I admit that the part of me that loves People Magazine is fascinated by the mutual mess. Here are the lessons I have observed - already knew, but am now reminded of, yet again:

1) Always always always have a thoroughly legal contract. Do not trust anyone at their word. Write it all down, get it signed and witnessed.

2) For the love of pete, keep your mutual friends and acquaintances out of it.

3) Hanging up on people is immature and only exacerbates the situation. Take a deep breath, be adult enough to say that perhaps you two are misunderstanding each other, and try again.

Had these two people followed these three basic steps, their lives would be a lot less messy, and their legal bills much less expensive, than they are right now.

None of this involves me personally, and I'm hardly cut up about it - I'm just fascinated that three steps which, to me, seem like basic common sense, got so badly over-looked.

bravery

2011-05-02T13:24:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you just have to square your shoulders and keep on going.

shoes

2011-04-18T16:31:00.000-04:00

I am not a shoe person. One of the sopranos has a shoe collection to rival Imelda Marcos. I tend to buy one pair of black dress shoes and then wear them until they fall apart and buy another.

Yesterday, the choir did a concert. I realized within about five minutes that I needed different shoes; by the end of the concert, I could not feel my feet. The Imelda Marcos lady, wearing four inch heels, still had high notes and could dance. Clearly, I am missing something...

what do you need?

2011-04-06T13:53:00.000-04:00

Years and years ago, I was at a women only gathering where we had to write down answers to a series of open-ended questions. I don't remember all of them, but one was, "which appliance do you need the most?"

I confess that I chose the hot water heater over the coffee maker. I can always go out for coffee, but cold showers, yuck.

On Sunday, a tree in the neighbors' yard fell down and knocked out a chunk of the fence and the Internet connection at lemming headquarters. With the Internet connected again, I'm trying to decide between hot water and the Internet...

plumbing

2011-03-25T11:42:00.000-04:00

The ATC (Alarmingly Tall Contractor) who put a new roof on lemming headquarters back in May of 2009 is due today to fix my upstairs toilet. Why is it that the bathroom is cleaner for him than for my mother?

Meanwhile, I cannot keep remembering the line from "Poor Judd is Daid" in Oklahoma! "His fingernails have never been so clean."

more on Seduction of Water

2011-03-07T09:42:00.000-05:00

I've heard from a few of the book club people that you found Seduction entertaining, but that the strings of coincidences seemed a bit too implausible.

I agree that there are quite a few of these strings. Maybe it's because I have watched too many episodes of Doctor Who but I'm all right with suspending a little disbelief now and again. More likely, I think that I'm not bothered because I have experienced just enough random moments in life that I find such moments plausible. For example, running into my seventh grade English teacher a thousand miles from home and fifteen years later sounds completely impossible, but it happened. My honorary aunt running into my father at Westminster Abbey sounds beyond impossible, but it happened. Maybe it's the whole "believe three impossible things before breakfast" aspect of Alice in Wonderland/ Through the Looking Glass at work in my life...

Speaking of Doctor Who, the former writer for the show, Russell T. Davies, has remarked that he thinks that the relationship between mothers and daughters can be very complex and fascinating to explore. I am very grateful that my mother is still alive, and that I've had a chance to know her as adult to adult. Iris' struggle to know a mother she lost while still a child really intrigued me somehow...

Plus, I'm a history teacher, so I love reading about research and the headaches one gets from microfilm!

another death

2011-02-28T12:51:00.001-05:00

Word just reached me of the death of a high school English teacher. Reading between the lines, I'm guessing heart attack.

Hindsight, as is so often said, is 20/ 20. I have a hunch that the year I had this teacher, he suffered from a very deep divorce-induced depression, and was very slowly putting his life back together. He taught us well, though not brilliantly, but I'm struck by the occasional flashes of amazing insight into Dickens and Wordsworth that stick with me several years later. A year or two earlier, a year or two later - I can only imagine what he must have been like. Beware the quiet and understated teachers who give you clever assignments...

I regret not having told him that I still quote some of the big classroom mantras years later to my own students. I really need to compile a list of great teachers and tell them now while I still can.

book club update

2011-02-19T16:22:00.000-05:00

I've heard from a few of you and I am much relieved to learn that you have liked the book thus far. :-) As I reread Water one of the pieces that strikes me is how well, IMHO, Goodman sets up descriptions of places, dresses, etc. that don't necessarily carry deep importance to the overall plot, but do give you an imaginary landscape within which to place the characters.

I'm a mystery addict - not necessarily murder mysteries, any kind of mystery - which is probably also why Iris' search to better understand her roots appeals to me; as a history teacher, I am all in favor of knowing and searching for one's roots, but the mysterious aspect behind Iris' background appeals to me as well. I like how Goodman teases them out, throwing in clues, but also some red herrings.

As we get closer to our March 15 "meeting" I'd be curious to know what all of you think about the minor characters; I think Goodman does a great job at filling in just enough details for each of their back stories to keep the reader following them even as they think about Iris.

a death

2011-02-15T14:19:00.001-05:00

I didn't know L well. She was a senior, I was a freshman, and the only reason I knew her at all was that we had mutual friends.

I am eternally grateful to L for rescuing me from one of those nasty, "ack, someone is hitting on me and I don't know how to react" situations.

The latest issue of the alumni magazine contains her obit - she was forty-two. No, I don't know what happened, though it sounds like she led a happy life. I hope so, at least. Strange to think of someone my age as dead.

cars and Water

2011-02-10T12:21:00.000-05:00

1) Cars - my car, aka "Phil" is a very reliable Honda. When the "maintenance required" light came on (which it never does) I patted Phil's dashboard and made an appointment to bring him in today. It's been six hours and there's no word from the mechanics. I am beginning to worry...

2) Water For those of you in the book club, or simply playing along at home, here's an opening:

I have a weakness for quirky libraries. (I cannot believe that I'm the only one!) Years ago I used to frequent a small branch of a much larger library system which, though a bit dark and cramped, always had amazing displays of the "you didn't know about this book but you need to read it" variety. (This is how I discovered John Bellairs, but that's another topic for another book club.)

Currently, my local library is quirky mostly in that the staff knows they are balancing several different reading audiences. Vampires hold little appeal for me, and I'm not much for the latest tome by a politician or political commentator. At the same time, the staff are pretty good about putting up interesting memoirs and novels.

This is how I came upon The Seduction of Water. In all seriousness, I picked it up because I liked the cover. I scanned the first page, sat down to read the second, and after fifty pages, read in the library, realized that I should probably take it home.

More on the actual book later. :-)

blogging again

2011-02-06T19:09:00.000-05:00

Yes, I'm back to blogging again - after Sam died, I lost a lost of heart for it, as so many of my posts were about him.

Sam died a very peaceful death after a long and well lived, well loved life, which is not too shabby for a dog whom someone dumped in an area where he really shouldn't have survived. I finally sat down and read through some of the posts I did about him, and that was quite a help.

So, updates: I've joined an on-line book group, and (gulp) my choice is the first one up. I'll post some thoughts about it soon, though I know some of you have already read the entire thing. The book is by Carol Goodman and is titled The Seduction of Water. I found it very compelling and thought provoking.

traumas

2011-01-28T10:15:00.000-05:00

I know exactly where I was when I heard about Challenger blowing up - I can tell you exactly which desk in which room, the color of the walls, what I was supposed to be doing but wasn't... (I learned how to french braid my hair in study hall that year.)

I remember watching the replays on television over and over and over before lunch and then we were supposed to go on with our academic day.

Listening to the NPR coverage of it being 25 years (how did I get to be so old?!) there was a reference to the shuttle explosion later on. That's vivid, but for different reasons- I was trapped in a traffic jam, desperate to get home, and turned on the radio for a distraction. Certainly a distraction...

My heart breaks for the families of these brave men and women, and I do not say that lightly. RIP.

hot cocoa

2011-01-20T11:39:00.000-05:00

There's a very nice woman in my neighborhood, about my age, who also works from home. She does something with scrap-booking as a profession and as I do not have the arts & crafts gene, I'm not entirely sure that I understand it.

We've been casual friends for a few years now - always a wave and a smile when we pass by, she noticed that Sam wasn't in the yard and sent her condolences, I watched her kids once - but it took us until this summer to actually sit down and have lunch together.

There's plenty that we don't have in common, but quite a lot that we do. Yesterday we spent some time just having cocoa together and having girl talk. I need to remember to do that again.

woof woof woof

2011-01-04T11:21:00.000-05:00

A neighbor (whom I do not know well at all) took her dog for a walk and forgot her keys. To cut a long story short, no one had a spare key to her house, her husband was away and wouldn't be back until after midnight and it's cold in Indiana at this time of year.

I apologized for the condition of lemming headquarters (it was laundry day) but said I'd be more than happy to put her and the dog up until husband got home. I'd already planned on pizza for supper - pizza crusts were one of Sam's favorite treats - and it was great to have a dog in the kitchen, sitting, patiently, who quickly figured out that in this house, as in his own, pizza crusts definitely belonged to dogs, not humans.

Dakota (the dog) quickly mellowed out and had a few "really, I'm vigilant, you just think I'm napping" moments. I had to work, but tried to pop out every half hour or so to socialize... the petting and scratching of a dog's ears were, of course, purely circumstantial. Dakota even spent time barking at the squirrels in the backyard (Sam's nemesis) so we're safe for a day or so.

I miss being owned by a dog.

almost done - sort of

2010-12-24T11:56:00.000-05:00

One fifteen page essay stands between me and being officially on break for a few days.

It's a good essay. It's from a good student. I gave him a two week extension because his wife went into premature labor. He sent me pictures from the NICU and everything... OK, I am a softie for new daddies.

Is it wrong that I plan to read six pages and then have some cocoa, take a nap, sing a lot of descants and then read the other six pages? I hope not....

'tis the season

2010-12-02T10:31:00.000-05:00

Well, it's crunch time. The exams start in less than thirty-six hours. So far I've not received any foolish questions (good) and had more than a few ask what I would be teaching next semester (also good) so I am feeling fairly hopeful. Well, OK, there is one student who has earned As on all of her assignments, but since she missed the mid-term and the make-up, it's going to hurt to assign that final grade.

I think fall semester is infinitely harder than spring. The break is shorter, it comes later, and somehow I have to cram in that last dash of grading while Christmas shopping, rehearsing with the choir, lighting candles, enjoying the change of seasons and generally feeling the Christmas spirit. Every year I fully intend to find some of the Advent reflection that sounds so glorious, but seem to have so little time in which to do it outside of church.

It's so strange to look at people for whom the year is not divided by semesters. It's normal, right? It's how most of this world goes about their lives. Odd concept, that.

courage

2010-11-03T10:08:00.000-04:00

I confess that I really admire the courage of the Jehovah's Witnesses and the Mormons. They always seem to show up when I am having a crazy morning and often when I have the 'flu. The gentlemen who turned up today were very kind, understood that this was not a good day, handed me some literature and left.

I know that the men and women who come door to door do it out of deep belief, and I know that they get countless doors slammed in their faces, plenty of invective and more than a few people who play mind games with them. They do it anyway.

Anthony Lane, Part II

2010-02-10T15:46:00.002-05:00

Number two on the list of best-sellers read by Anthony Lane was Forever Amber by Katharine Windsor. This may be the guiltiest pleasure novel I have read in years, possibly decades. It's only the second book I've ever read (a biography of Emma Goldman was the first) in which I needed to keep a running guide of the names of the lovers in order tp keep track of the plot.

Is it great literature? No. Is it deliciously of its time? Oh my yes.

funniest prose all year

2009-12-29T11:08:00.002-05:00

Anthony Lane, reviewing Earth and High Heaven by Gwethalyn Graham, a best-seller from 1945

And so to no. 9. I have a problem with No. 9. I cannot read it. God knows, I have tried. I have downed three straight whiskeys and then tried to read it. I have leapt clean and sober from a cold shower, grabbed the book, and, standing upright, started to read it out loud. But the same thing always happened: I buckled like a puppet and fell asleep.

from Nobody's Perfect pages 394-395

words have no meaning

2009-12-05T14:35:00.003-05:00

I've just read a student's paper and I am struggling to find words with which to comment. She doesn't realize that she has just voiced a very unpleasant stereotype. I'm not sure which is harder, pointing out the stereotype, or pointing out her ignorance.

She's not young and this isn't intentional. She will be mortified when she reads my comments. Still breaks my heart.

squirrels on steroids

2009-11-14T10:22:00.002-05:00

When the alarmingly tall contractor and his crew put on a new roof this summer, they tore off not one but three old roofs. I don't entirely understand why this is supposed to make it cheaper to heat lemming headquarters, but I accept it as one of the mysteries of life. Doubtless I would understand if I had taken Physics in high school instead of Women's History.

One unforeseen after-effect of now only having one layer of roof is that I can hear the prancing and pawing of each tiny hoof, er, paw of each squirrel who scampers across. I'm not yet so used to the noise that I tune it out, but I at least know what it is.

So, having consumed quite a bit of caffeine, I sat down at the computer, prepared to draw intelligent comparisons between Sarah Palin and Eliza Pickney. (Really. You have no idea how thrilled I am that John McCain chose Palin. Teaching Women's History has just become infinitely more entertaining.)

Hypothetically and in theory, several squirrels could make the noises which began overhead. These would need to be squirrels even more coordinated than the vast liberal socialist conspiracy, which seems unlikely in suburban Indianapolis. The organized squirrels then began throwing large branches off of the new roof... and turned on leaf blowers.

I'm grateful to my neighbors for cleaning off my new roof, but they did give me quite a shock.

over-heard at church

2009-11-08T19:07:00.000-05:00

Coincidence is God's way of working anonymously."

update!

2009-11-04T11:13:00.004-05:00

Today's reference librarian at least looked up some answers to my question, though failed to understand the context for it. I can't decide if a 90% answer counts as complete satisfaction or not. Then again, the answer was free!

simple pleasures

2009-11-03T17:02:00.001-05:00

I stumped a reference librarian today.

I plan to try again later.

Sometimes it's the little moments in life that power us (well, me) through Tuesdays.

book meme

2009-10-25T17:24:00.007-04:00

Harriet tagged me for this meme about books about two weeks ago. I've been busy with that usual middle-of-October chaos, so this is rather late. I envy Harriet her eighty words a minute sometimes.

Anyway, the drill is to answer the questions, then tag some people – I haven't, as everyone I would tag has already responded, in one fashion or another – and when you’ve done it you email beanphoto at mail@beanphoto.co.uk and tell him you did it so he can go and collect it. And ask the bloggers you tag to do the same.

1. Most memorable place/experience reading a book?

So many possibilities for this answer - certainly the golden and glorious afternoon in which I devoured Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban for the first time, the incredible frustration of trying to plow through Alison Weir's Mary, Queen of Scots and the Murder of Lord Darnley while on a gorgeous location, any of a number of Jane Austen novels reread while while crossing the Atlantic, the pure joy when I finally laid hands on a copy of A Candle in Her Room after thirty years and found that not only did I still love it, but that I appreciated the author's brilliance a lot more than I once did - and I note that the first titles which came to mind were all penned by women, which may or may not be significant.

If pinned down, perhaps because of the season, I'd have to give the nod to House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I took a senior seminar on Hawthorne - I don't know if we read all of the man's work, but we came awfully close. Gables is fairly creepy on its own, but after reading so many of NH's short stories, my mind already dashed off to dark corners and spooky setting before I read the first page.

I finally found sanctuary in the common room of my dormitory. With the low murmur of the television and chatter from other students to ground a corner of my subconcious in reality, I curled up in a corner and read the book in one sitting. I still found the book creepy, but I no longer feared that I'd make too much noise by turning the page.

2. Most unusual place/experience reading a book?

Studying for qualifying exams - I went a week without glasses or contacts but had to go on reading. I still feel great affection for Born For Liberty by Sara Evans because it had unusually large print.

3. Most dangerous place/experience reading a book?  

I've snuck in coffee to a few libraries where beverages were banned, does that count?

Occasionally I've felt unsafe in the stacks at large university libraries - the sight lines are, obviously, dreadful, and it wouldn't be hard to hide a crime (or other naughty activity, such as coffee drinking) behind a pillar.

4. Most luxurious place/experience reading a book?

The weekend before the US AP exam I stayed at the home of a friend who lived on the Atlantic Ocean. I reread all of my notes and both textbooks sitting on a bay window's window seat, watching the waves roll in.

5. Funniest place/experience reading a book? Or, add a reading-place/experience description of your own.

Hmmm... lots of times when I have agonized over trying to remember a title, only to discover the book right next to me... Sharyn McCrumb's Killing Susan made me laugh so long and so often that I reread it three times in as many days.

Weir's Mary, Queen of Scots reduced me to frequently grumbling aloud to friends and family, "just kill the man, already!" - does that count?

The old saw about "not judging a book by its cover" proved, just once, to be entirely accurate; at a small local library branch, I spotted a John Bellairs book propped on top of a bookcase. I'd never heard of Bellairs, but the cover picture screamed out, "I was drawn by Edward Gorey." What further recommendation could I ask; Gorey and a librarian? All true: Bellairs' books (and the follow-ups by Brad Strickland) are wonderful.

one sided conversation

2009-10-05T13:12:00.002-04:00

Mistress!
What is it, dog?
Mistress!
Yes, dog?
Mistress!!!
What do you want, Sam?
Mistress!!!

So it has gone, for three hours. He doesn't need to go outside,it's not the traditional hour for the walking of the dog, he's been fed and his sofa is free of clutter. It's hard enough to focus upon the most boring assignment of teh entire class, but this is not helping.

Mistress!!!

I miss the days when I could simply walk him by the front door of the lady dog of mature years and he would then sleep with a happy grin for an hour or so.

Obama puts a ring on it

2009-10-01T22:15:00.002-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SEZEyAuSP8

Just watch it - you know you need a good solid belly laugh on a Friday Morning.

I still believe.

the rain is full of ghosts

2009-09-25T14:36:00.002-04:00

Nearly everyone in the mid-west seemed dazed by this week of rain. It's gray and dreary enough to be late fall, yet it's warm and the leaves, at least in Indianapolis, have yet to turn. There's something wonderfully comforting about waking up in the early morning to the sound of the rain and even better to know that I don't have to get up early to teach or mark papers, and so can go back to sleep.

The weather has been hard on Sam - the extra humidity brings out his arthritis, and without his daily walks, he has cabin fever... though not enough cabin fever to consent to walk in the rain. It looks like matters may be dry for a few minutes so perhaps I can get him twice around the block this afternoon.

I had a frustrating conversation with a student, made all the more frustrating because of the rain. I could barely hear her words, and the rain had better diction. I truly and deeply admire the students who take a class not in their native language to study history not their own, for which they have no cultural context to hand. People like her bring out my most altruistic & enthusiastic "please, I want so much to help you!" teaching impulse in my soul - but truth be told, I'm really not sure what she wanted to know. The words that came out of my mouth seemed to reassure her, though, so I'll chalk that up as a small victory.

monday, Monday

2009-09-21T11:39:00.003-04:00

The neighbors threw a big party on Saturday - it started at about 10:00 AM and lasted until midnight. Sam and I counted about twenty cars at one point parked outside. It sounded and looked like rather a lot of fun, though I wish that they had knocked off the singing before 11:00 PM.

They had the right weather for it - yesterday and today have been gray and wet, though mercifully still warm enough to have the windows open and some amount of fresh air circulating. The party included several dogs, who barked madly at am every time he went outside. He found this behavior quite baffling; I honestly think he's pining for his lady love.

Status: grading like mad.

status update

2009-09-15T21:37:00.001-04:00

If I had a facebook account, which I do not, my current status would be, "lemming is unable to correctly type the word "conquer" tonight, and is reluctant to ponder the potential significance of this fact."

I got it wrong again in the typing of this post.

in company

2009-09-10T10:19:00.002-04:00

Due to circumstances beyond my control, lemming headquarters has moved again. This week I have been grading essays not only away from Sam's watchful eye, but in a very full office. Oh, I've had office-mates before this, but never before have I enjoyed their company so much. While teaching is a social activity, grading is usually a solitary activity, of necessity, really.

By the way, today is the birthday of Colin Firth.

a denial

2009-08-25T11:05:00.000-04:00

I, Sam, would like to offer a blanket statement to the effect that the mistress is up to no good. In fact, she is trying to smear the good name of a perfectly respectable lady dog of mature years by insinuating that she and I would possibly have any sort of feelings for each other beyond a mutual distrust of rabbits.

Dangerous, blood-thirsty rabbits, I should add, ones who traipse across our yard - I mean my yard, and the mature lady dog assists me in the barking and chasing...

The mistress claims that I sit outside the door of the lady dog's domicile and wait for her. This is untrue. I simply happen to be walking by very slowly and prepared to greet her should she by chance emerge. It's pure happenstance that I insisted upon going outside at 11:30 last night just as the mature lady dog also happened to be taking a stroll.

a moment of pause and a moment of joy

2009-07-31T16:08:00.001-04:00

Sam approves of our move, as is patently obvious from his entire demeanor.

At the same time, I need to prepare myself: Sam is also winding down. Twice in two months he has very gently but firmly turned down a walk, on a day when he had yet to do more than head outside, raise a leg, then return inside to snooze on the sofa. He's not in pain, he still makes his feelings known (sofa = good) but I have to accept that the naps more than outweigh the constant alertness.

He's had a good life. We've made a great team. I don't doubt that we still have a few innings left... but I need to remember that we're counting down.

Now to joy: el Presidente has a little sister. Hurrah!

a guest post

2009-07-20T14:48:00.003-04:00

The mistress is busy, something about grocery shopping because she is out of diet coke. No matter. I, Sam, shall blog in her stead.

The new headquarters is a good place. I do not have to climb stairs, and it is much easier to keep constant watch over the mistress's actions. A young and flighty young thing lives on one side of us; she lacks dignity, but is pleasant enough. On the other side we have another dignified dog, a female of mature years, one who understands the need to maintain constant watchfulness. However, I suspect that she enjoys that mysterious activity known as swimming, so I shall have to carefully monitor our conversations for clues.

The mistress has opened many boxes, but has been kind enough to leave my sofa uncovered. It is unusual for her not to bring me along when she leaves in the morning; I am glad that she has at last come to understand the importance of keeping me along at all times.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have Proust to read.

dancing on the sofa

2009-07-10T10:13:00.003-04:00

Mistress!
Yes, Sam, I know.
Mistress!!!!!
It's all right, Sam.
Mistress! Mistress!

Sam's sofa is in a U-Haul somewhere between here and the new lemming headquarters. He keeps checking the spot where it (the sofa) should be and isn't, just in case it (the sofa) has reappeared. Then he attempts to call my attention to this loss. Hell hath no fury like a border collie thwarted in his stare.

Sam and it (he sofa) will be together again in a few days. Meanwhile, I have more boxes to fill. John Adams (or was it John Quincy Adams?) once observed that he had all his life had a passion for books, one whose folly he only felt when moving...

in my place

2009-06-18T20:37:00.003-04:00

The alarmingly tall contractor came in with a final bill exactly @25 over budget. If anyone needs a roofer, let me know.

ATC tells me that everyone on his crew has at least 15 years of experience and is out of work because of the recession. I couldn't afford the new roof, not even remotely, but my insurance company funded purchase means that four families can eat this month. That's humbling.

a day for a good book

2009-06-16T09:43:00.004-04:00

It's raining today, so no roofers. By this time tomorrow, my headache may have dissipated, just in time for them to start work on the garage.

Rob asks just how tall the alarmingly tall contractor might be - I don't have a number, but I can tell you that he is so tall that he has to duck to walk through my front door. he doesn't do the "tall person stoop" when he talks to you, which I admire.

I've been reading Linda H. Davis' biography of the cartoonist Charles Addams, as in the Addams Family. I have a weakness for biographies of the people who lived and thrived in the early years of the New Yorker. Occasionally they reach the point of smarmy intellectualistic elitism that offends even my ego, but this one is terrific. Much like the most recent biography of Charles Schultz, Davis intersperses plenty of Addams' cartoons in the text and she's clearly having fun with her subject, even while bringing the right professional tone. Addams comes across as a dedicated man with a sense of fun who enjoyed teh macabre atmosphere around him.

I'd rather be reading about Addams, but right now I have essays to grade. I am convinced that they reproduce in the night...

up on the roof

2009-06-15T07:33:00.003-04:00

The chaps showed up bright and early at 7:00 AM to start the joyous process of tearing off the old roof here at lemming headquarters and installing a new one. The head contractor (the most alarmingly tall person I have ever met) warned that they "might make a lot of noise." I rather assumed that they would, which is why I apologized to most of the neighbors about it last week, though not to the man who likes to run his chain-saw at 6:30 AM on Saturdays.

lemming headquarters desperately needs said new roof; I sincerely doubt that the old one would have lasted another winter, and with all of the thunderstorms we've had in the last few weeks, I've had my worries about the old one lasting until the new one could go on. I'm pleased that the alarmingly tall person assured me that they would do all of the house today and then all of the garage "when it's dry" rather than leaving me with a sheet of plastic to keep out the storms which are due for the rest of the week.

Sam's deafness saddens me from time to time, but today it is a blessing. Had he working ears, Sam would be barking at full-on red alert, between the simple existence of several strange men here at th territorial headquarters which he is sworn to protect and defend, the oddness of their location (said roof) and the very odd noises that stripping off old shingles makes. Instead he's snoring away on the sofa, oblivious to the drama above his floppy ears.

on we go

2009-06-10T15:34:00.004-04:00

Yes, the hell-spawn devil's-imp did survive my time away. Precocious neighborhood child found him quite a handful. He left gigantic clumps of fur around his various scratching posts, though with no noticeable difference to his coat. He seems vaguely pleasd to have me back, probably simply for my mere existence.

I did read a glorious murder mystery while on vacation, which I'll have to write baout, as soon as I get through all of these e-mails.

time for a vacation

2009-05-29T07:51:00.003-04:00

I'm going away for a few days, just a quiet trip to share some peace with Sam. Precocious neighborhood child will be very well paid to look after the good cats and even the hell spawn demon imp. I fear what will occur when I am gone, but it will be great to leave the state for a while.

Meanwhile, let the bureaucrats deal with the problems - I'm going to sleep in.

subversive children's literature

2009-05-16T11:16:00.003-04:00

"Scalia," Sunny said. She meant something like, "It doesn't seem like the literal interpretation makes any sense," but her siblings did not think it was wise to translate.

-The Penultimate Peril by Lemony Snickett, page 268

Roses and Pandas

2009-05-07T15:28:00.003-04:00

Jeanne has rewarded me for commenting on her blog. It feels rather odd, still, to comment on her blog, when I think back to her commenting upon my papers all these years ago, but no matter. My thanks for the honor.

I'm in the usual seasonal dash to read the long papers, plow through the exams, battle between my conscience and the result calculated by a spreadsheet, knowing how clearly I remember every grade on my own college transcript. Perhaps it's all of these academic battles that have me realizing how befuddled I am by the Lancaster arm of English history, so I have been trying to straighten out some of my confusion. (Jeanne, have you read In a Dark Wood Wandering?) I think reading that in March is where it all got started.

For obvious reasons, what I am teaching these days has nothing at all to do with the House of Lancaster, which may explain my attraction to it. I dislike the assigned textbook I've been reading for the next round of classes (it is a textbook only because it is assigned and is a book, it's not a textbook per say) so the Lancastrians are a palate cleanser. I've been digging about for a suitable Victoria Holt novel from the period to fill the need to brush up on history while relax at the end of the day.

For the record, the hell-spawn devil's imp feline made two attempts in less than thirty-six hours to escape and has been returned to safety, despite my fleeting hopes for his speedy demise. Well, not hopes... truly, I don't wish him ill, just declawed.

pop culture still lives

2009-04-19T09:40:00.002-04:00

On Friday night, April 17, 2009, I heard Michael Jackson's "Thriller" all the way through for the first time.

I wouldn't have known that it was "Thriller" had I not been told - not some of his clearest diction...

academics are goofy creatures

2009-04-07T14:31:00.007-04:00

"I mean, I just don't understand these people who strengthen their self-identification through listing their accomplishments. 2.5 kids, house in the suburbs, who cares? that's not who you really are."

"Oh, I don't know - when you introduced yourself it was with your name, degrees, institutions and latest publication. What's the intellectual difference? You've just offered me a self-definition through a particular sub-set of academic qualifications and accomplishments, and you asked for mine."

What I really should have done was to start competing on the grounds of the extent of our student loan debt. (laughter)

first post for April

2009-04-06T09:29:00.003-04:00

It's snowing outside. Snowing, I tell you. People will be grumbling about global warming as fallacy and conspiracy today; best to stay inside.

Speaking of conspiracies - documentation to prove that Paris was liberated in 1944 by white troops has been released. There's a reason by colonialism's shadow still looms large on teh International Stage.

The Voyeur was attracted by my skirt as it swished by and drew blood on my leg with his claws. After I learned that declawing a cat means removing the feline equivalent of a knuckle, I changed my ideas about it, but the Voyeur is, well, maybe he's a special case.

of cats and men

2009-03-26T20:20:00.003-04:00

The Voyeur should consider himself lucky if he survives the week. I do not pretend that my furniture is anything special, but he's doing quite a number on it. This is a battle of wills between me and a creature who does not contribute financially to the household. I marvel at the patience shown by you veteran cat co-habitators.

The historian John Hope Franklin has died, after nearly a century of making the field look easy. Plenty of obituaries and rememberences have already been recorded, and I'm sure that the OAH and AHA will get their in (and plenty of follow-ups) over the weeks, months and years to come. (Historians are not always prompt.) What impressed and impresses me most about Franklin is his willingness, nay, enthusiasm, t be a teacher and to give his students every possible assistance. The ivory tower pays lip service to the importance of good teaching, of being a mentor, of genuinely cultivating the next generation, but the true investment is not often made. Franklin invested and, unlike AIG, his dividends will only increase in value.

a quiet peace

2009-03-23T09:23:00.003-04:00

The son of Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes Nicholas Hughes has taken his own life.

It's often said that children of celebrities bear additional burdens simply by virtue of their DNA; here that DNA presents a double whammy. Plath is an icon to so many - and so many are still angry at Ted Hughes for the breakdown of their marriage. Their children have carried such a challenge through life, and seem to have managed it in quiet and with dignity.

Hughes must have known that in ending his own life that the comparisons with and commentary on his mother would increase. Even in misery and death, the poor man isn't "Nicholas;" he's the son of poets with emotional problems and an aura of literary celebrity.

Is - now was.

advice requested

2009-03-22T12:51:00.002-04:00

The Voyeur is an adult male cat, neutered, and the alpha of his pack. he's established that Sam is not a threat, but that the dog still outranks him.

I can handle the late night concerts and the tendency to be underfoot, but he deliberately pees in inappropriate locations, particularly when I am watching. Shoes I can wash and carpets can be cleaned, but he's attacking library books.

Any ideas?

(Is it felicide to murder a cat?)

a multi-tasking holiday

2009-03-17T08:25:00.001-04:00

Quoting Mass Moments eMoment :

...in 1901, the City of Boston officially celebrated Evacuation Day for the first time. In early March of 1776, Continental troops managed to move heavy cannon to the top of Dorchester Heights. When the British realized what had happened, they knew they could no longer hold the capital. The lowly Continental Army forced the British to evacuate Boston. One hundred and twenty-five years later, the Mayor proclaimed March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, a legal holiday. The city could commemorate an important historical event — George Washington's first victory in the American Revolution — and celebrate its place as "the capital of Irish America." Even today, schools and government offices are closed on March 17th in Boston and Suffolk County.

(c)2009 Massachusetts Foundation for the Humanities. All rights reserved.

http://www.massmoments.org/index.cfm

Monday monday

2009-03-16T09:45:00.003-04:00

As of noon, March will be half-over, thank goodness.

The Voyeur has taken to indoor dumpster diving, i.e. digging through the trash can. When Sam does this it is to express his displeasure at being left alone too many time too often. The Voyeur does this because it is his right. The Voyeur is wearing his welcome and my patience thin.

The Vampire still avoid me and the Enigma quietly examines her surroundings. Only when I take corned beef out of the refrigerator does she react. Perhaps she's Irish?

Thought for the day: Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do. - Jean-Paul Satre

back and better

2009-03-11T12:54:00.004-04:00

Long time no blog. Again.

I have a theory that much of the nation spent December and January in a state of anticipation, holding on by our very fingernails until the presidential hand-off. Then the hangover hit and we realized that matters went from dreadful to - well, what's worse than dreadful? - and we all spent February in dreadful moods.

Anyway, I didn't want to do yet another post about how tired I am of winter, so I've been quiet and tried to take life on its own terms.

Thanks to all who asked after Sam; though his deafness is official, the meds are keeping him spry and very active. Last night something did not please either his eyes or his nose and he gave the fence line a long, hard bark. It's been a good long while since he did this, so I let him bark his heart out.

Lemming headquarters has been temporarily augmented by the addition of three cats. Sam has adapted quite well, though he is baffled that they leave food in their dishes after meals and that I won't allow him to eat it. "The Vampire" seems content to stay out of my way. He mostly emerges from his cave after I go to bed, so we have very little contact. "The Voyeur" is a constant source of trouble. I am accustomed to a dog, one who knows better than to jump on countertops and who does not relieve himself on household items to express his inner feelings. The third one, whom I think has the most personality, spent three days thoroughly examining headquarters, only to decide that the windows provide far better options for entertainment than watching me grade essays.

As research for my new lifestyle, I have been rereading mysteries from the Cat Who series. One of these years I need to read all twenty-two books in order, as skipping about means that I lose track of who is now dead, who has gone insane, who has switched jobs, etc.

One aspect to Lilian Jackson Braun's books that I do admire is that she sneaks in the occasional vocabulary word, foreign language phrase or food term that forces me to the dictionary. As economizing means less fancy dining, it is fun to drool over her menus of fish, crab, beef with mushrooms, cheeses...

Excuse me.

snowy snowy day

2009-01-28T13:32:00.002-05:00

Indianapolis is snowed in. All of the schools are closed, even the die-hard private places. Most businesses are closed, which is why my wonderful next door neighbor was on hand to snow blow my driveway.

This does bring me to the question of why - yes, I always seem to find a why. According to the radio, all sorts of accidents took place this morning, hardly surprising - but who are these people? In my version of the universe, the only people who should have to work today are people at hospitals, police officers, etc. Why on earth should the rest of the universe have to go to work today on roads that are not safe? What is so vital to the world that office workers risk the unplowed roads just so that the office can say that they were open?

Easy for me to say, I have the day off.

Founding Mothers

2009-01-23T12:58:00.002-05:00

I just wanted to inject a moment of reality into all of our Obama afterglow (tm) and I include myself in that glow.

Yes, it is terrific and outstanding that we have an African-American president, whose extended family looks even more like America than ever seemed possible. (Oh, no, wait, don't the Bushes have one or two Hispanic in-laws? Not quite the same thing.) Obviously I am thrilled to bits that many Americans voted for the man based upon his principles, not upon his skin, but the end result is all the more amazing.

Here's my note - Obama's father wasn't exactly an engaged father figure. Obama was raised by a white mother and a white grandmother, sometimes with the help of a step-father and extended family. I'd like to take a moment to remember them, if I might - the woman from Kansas, who fell for an exchange student, the grandmother who was not perfect but gave her grandson enduring and unending love -

they too are our American story. I honor the goat-herder's son who is now our president, but I also honor the son of a single mother, raised by a grandmother, who now seeks to give his own children a nuclear family.

just staying in touch

2009-01-14T20:43:00.003-05:00

Sam is not happy about the drop in temperature. He's confined himself to frequent short trips outside. He would obviously like to spend more time peeing at the fence-line with the dog next door, but I can see him shaking from the cold.

Sorry, I didn't mean this blog to turn into some kind of obsession with my dog, but seeing how much he has aged in the past year has been hard to accept.

Meanwhile, life continues. I seem to have a good crop of students at the moment, which after last spring semester's mess is a definite plus. Some of them even like my jokes and have said so, openly!

just four minutes

2009-01-09T09:44:00.002-05:00

Long time no blog. I've been busy, sick, all of the usual cranky winter complaints.

One of the perks to December is that people send Christmas cards. (Well, some people. A pox upon people who say that they'll send a card and then don't, year after year. You're not going to do it, we both know it, don't tell lies.) I love reading people's Christmas letters and seeing pictures of their kids, I really do - even of dogs or cats. Just knowing that people think of me and others at least once a year is gladdening to my cynic's heart.

Alas now it is January and now begins the slog toward spring.

blast from the past

2008-12-22T09:57:00.002-05:00

I got "one of those" e-mails last night. I want to emphasize that although it came from a man, I never slept with him or anything like that. He's just, well, complicated. He was a student, a very good student, but also someone I know that I know I was a life-changing person and pushed him and did good things and that's a kind of strange and heavy piece to carry sometimes.

He's not sentimental, so I don't hear from him often. When I do, I always want to push push push - what are you doing? How are you doing? Married? kids? I know this man and I know that pushing him in that direction is a surefire way to make sure I learn nothing. He may be the only man who has ever gotten me to play by his rules.

We exchanged e-mails last night - I don't think that any of them was longer than 20 words. I know that he is alive and employed. (At a conservative estimate, he makes 100 times more than I make.) I don't think there's any way to make it fully clear to him how much that means to me.

accessories

2008-12-15T11:56:00.003-05:00

I did not own a purse until I was thirty-(delicate cough)

There are a variety of reasons why - there's no point to having a purse when you're already hefting around a book-bag filled with ungraded student essays, library books, notes from the latest grad student coloq, three different kinds of pain killer, datebook, empty coffee cup attached to the shoulder strap, etc.

Then I slowly crept toward pretending to be an adult and accepted that I probably should own one. Truthfully, I'd rather have accepted the need for a speculum, but you don't bring implements to job interviews. I asked a family member with good taste to get me one for Christmas. Said family member (a man, I would note) came through it spades. My one purse is simple, easy to carry, easy to stow inside the inevitable book bag and so far immune to my destructive powers. Jeanne commented that some books fit into the hand or purse, etc. better than others, and that this affects when and how we read them. To my incredible delight, almost all books fit into my purse - big hardcovers are out, but I can still squeeze in almost everything else.

Waiting in line on Friday I read through 25+ pages of a mystery I tucked in there a week ago - The Cat Who Sniffed Glue if you must know. It passed the time and made me far less annoyed - all hail my reluctant purse.

desperate, desperate, desperate

2008-12-11T15:28:00.002-05:00

Sen. Obama isn't a citizen?

Snopes link

I had no idea that this issue was wending its way through the various courts.

Last night I went looking for a book and remembered that I had fought a long and hard recall war over it many years ago. I had it checked out for a time and it was recalled from me. I turned it in, but put in a hold - when the other person had their two weeks, I really needed it back. Well, the other person (whom I subsequently learned was faculty) put in a hold on me, and so it went. I basked in the myopic notion that as an impoverished graduate student, someone with health insurance could afford to shell out $50 for their own copy. The recall war went on and on and on - but the book has been on my shelf for, well, several years now. Am I just desperate to defeat the full timers? Or did the mysterious faculty member finish the project? Either way, I won.

Sam has been herding me all day. I had planned to catch up on some journal reading in bed this morning with breakfast; no go, it was imperative that I do it at my desk, which is far less comfy. I'd thought of taking a coffee break outside; no go, he wanted me inside. So it has gone all day. People laugh at me for allowing Sam to have such control over my daily life; they have obviously never been at the receiving end of a border collie stare. Even at the back of the skull, it's fierce.

Maybe I've read too any Internet postings, but I suppose I feel an obligation to him - Sam asks very little, truly, of me as his human. What matters most is that I maintain a routine. Heaven knows I probably function better with a routine anyway, which may be why I am such a pushover. Anyway, I am desperate for five minutes in which Sam lets me deviate from the norm!

another meme

2008-12-08T14:26:00.003-05:00

Harriet offered this meme and I liked it.

Where is your cell phone? on top of the bread flour container
Your hair color? brown - the highlights have grown out
Your mother? well-intentioned
Your father? well-intentioned, but clueless
Your favorite thing? primary documents from an individual's personal history... (insert recognition of personal geekiness, doubtless requiring professional help)
Your dream last night? hot tub had been installed in my backyard and there was bubble bath and I admired the stars and then kids started playing kickball in the yard next door

Your goal? to have done my best
The room you’re in? my cave
Your hobby? my dog, with reading murder mysteries while curled up with my dog a close second
Your fear? Just one?
Where do you want to be in six years? employed
Where were you last night? grading essays
What you’re not? well-rested
One of your wish-list items? Now that I think about it, a hot tub.
Where you grew up? I was born in a small town/ and I can breathe in a small town/ used to day dream in a small town" which is why I now live in the suburbs

The last thing you did? wash dishes
What are you wearing? warm socks
Your TV? ancient (circa 1995)
Your pet(s)? warm and furry
Your computer? Macintosh - goes by Beatrice
Your mood? lethargic
Missing someone? not at the moment
Your car? named Phil
Something you’re not wearing? a toupee
Favorite store? any place that sells books
Your summer? warm
Love someone? lots
Your favorite color? purple
When is the last time you laughed? yesterday
Last time you cried? this morning
Tagging: anyone

December

2008-12-05T12:08:00.003-05:00

Busy days here at lemming headquarters, trying to keep up with the marathon race that is getting everything done and processed so that the December graduations can go forward. After the pure luxury of sleeping in at Thanksgiving and having nothing more onerous to do than help wash a few dishes, I had grown quite spoiled.

The period between Thanksgiving and Christmas is such a funny muddle, isn't it? Constant carols every where, but it's only the first week of Advent and Hanukkah doesn't start for quite a while yet. (Yes, yes, Hanukkah isn't a Jewish Christmas, but it's part of the month.) Everyone seems to be in a holding pattern - we're all waiting for George's W.'s reign to end anyway, but the waiting just goes with the month.

Today is the birthday of Rose Wilder Lane, the "Ghost in the Little House" - did she ghostwrite her mother's books? Help with editing? Collaboration? More mysteries and process of waiting.

opposible thumbs

2008-11-20T12:13:00.002-05:00

Mistress! You are in imminent danger! I must go outside and bark!

Mistress!! You are in imminent danger! I must com inside and stare at you!

Mistress! You are in imminent danger! I must go outside and bark!

All those years of college and graduate school - so that I can open doors for a border collie who is having a bad day.

(laughter)

In all seriousness, this has actually been a nice day - I know that the meds are working because Sam's neurotic tendencies are coming back.

(more laughter)

food!

2008-11-18T00:01:00.002-05:00

This is a local plea, but please, if you are local, offer ideas.

I have been given a large check - and I mean a really, really, jaw-dropping size check - to go out to dinner and let a reviewer know what I thought.

Did I mention that it's a really big check?

Anyway, I'm taking suggestions.

I was born in a small town

2008-11-17T10:28:00.003-05:00

There's a John Mellencamp song called "Small Town" which I firmly believe should be played at least four times every day by NPR and even more often by other radio stations, including whatever network it is that employs Howard Stern.

is it great art? Well... the line "I cannot forget where it is that I come from" - how can you deny that it's perfect?

well, all right, you could, but only if you didn't spend your formative years in the same small town - if you had you would still think that the phrase a bit garbled, but you'd get the sentiment. Wait, that makes it sound like I grew up in Seymour, Indiana. I didn't. I just spent all of my childhood in the same small town.

Anyway, as Mellencamp says, I was born in a small town. A friend was scouting around on Facebook and found one of those "Top 20 Reasons" lists, in this case, ways that you know that you are from my small town. In just a few lines, it brought back so many memories... and then I started thinking about what the writer listed, and realized that he or she must be about ten years younger than I am (ulp) but how funny it is that I can date that based upon the names of stores on Main Street.

Anyway, I raise my cup of orange juice (need to go buy more) to "the place that I come from" - I have no desire to move back there, but it is beautiful and despite everything, I still love it.

Happy Birthday!!

2008-11-12T11:12:00.002-05:00

This is the birthday of Abigail Smith Adams - call her the first feminist or just a really neat lady, it doesn't matter. She's a cultural ancestor - please to raise a coffee mug, water bottle or wine glass in her honor.

just an observation

2008-11-10T14:43:00.000-05:00

My goodness but the Obamas are tall people.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/us_elections_2008/7720137.stm

we made history

2008-11-05T09:20:00.003-05:00

I was wrong. Alleluia, I was wrong.

Not only that, but Indiana went blue. Indiana??!! Blue??!! Alleluia.

Cissy, dinner is on me.

I'm reading the Prayers of the People on Sunday - I can't wait to say the name of our president-elect.

Alleluia.

Election 2008

2008-11-04T12:31:00.004-05:00

I would just like to point out that I know more about Sarah Palin than the Republican poll watcher at my district.

Apparently mine is the only district with disinterested voters/ people voting at other times. I had no line and was in and out in under five minutes. (Sorry Joe - I brought a book and an umbrella and snacks and everything, I was prepared!) Every other polling place has lines. This thrills me beyond belief, beyond anything I have words to articulate. Whatever the outcome (and I still think McCain will swing the Electoral College) I am so proud to be an American on this day.

Wishing us all grace as we vote and a return to peace.