In defense of reading

If the subject of reading for pleasure comes up in day to day conversation, most people will reply with a haughty "I just don't have TIME to read." Then, I get a look of disdain, as though all I do is sit around, eat ice cream out of the carton, and read trashy romance novels. Reading for pleasure shouldn't be something that one has to defend; It should be a natural part of daily existence. Instead of watching "Grey's Anatomy"- I read. Instead of talking on the phone for hours on end, I read. Instead of playing video games, I read. Instead of doing laundry, I read.

So maybe that last example isn't so positive, but hey, the laundry manages to get finished. Reading to me is like breathing. It is as natural to me as drinking water when I'm thirsty. It calms me when I'm stressed, and it soothes the mind before I go to sleep. It gives me something to look forward to at the end of a hectic day.

So for all of you non-readers out there, give it a shot, I say. Find something you're interested in, and then read more about it. This might sound a little bit preachy English teacher, I realize, but you just might surprise yourself. Give yourself the gift, and don't be afraid to defend it.

Things that mean the most to me

1. My baby quilt (the softest thing I own)
2. A ring from my grandmother
3. An antique pitcher from my other grandmother
4. A ring with turquoise, opal, and lapis inlay
5. A jade necklace
6. A set of red books
7. A copy of Never Tease A Weasel (my fave children's book)
8. A bookshelf made by my grandfather
9. My diplomas
10. A photograph of my grandfather with his Santa Gertrudis cattle

Reality

My mom's cousin called this week to tell my mom that her son, Gary, a Marine, was killed in Iraq.

While I should not have been shocked at the news, I really was. You see, my mom's hometown has a history of men going to war...and men coming home again. Gary is the first soldier killed in the line of duty from my mom's hometown. WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, first Persian Gulf...They ALL came home, which is a miraculous thing. In fact, my grandfather helped construct a grotto in front of the church in honor of all soldiers who served and in thanks for their safe return. It worked until now.

What makes the story even more tragic is that Gary was named after an uncle (also Gary) who was killed in Vietnam. (The uncle wasn't from Windthorst, obviously.) Who could have known? Who would have wanted to? He played on the football team that won a state championship. He worked hard. He came from a good family. You know the story.

Anyway, my mom will attend the funeral, which will be attended by an estimated 800 people. She is being put on standby to sing- in case Gary's godmother can't go through with it. I am so saddened by the news, but I am grateful to be a part of such a place. Growing up, Windthorst was my second home- Even though my mom got married and moved away, I was treated (and still am treated) like one of their own. I hope Gary's entire family feels that way, too.

May he rest in peace.

I wear the scarlet A

So one of the movies I watched this weekend was "Mona Lisa Smile"- a movie about a "free thinking" art history professor at Wellesley College in 1953. The plot was pretty weak, but I appreciate what the film was trying to bring to light. Many of the depictions were probably pretty accurate. Here were the most intelligent women of their day, and the college served as no more than a finishing school. Every tradition, every course was designed to train women to be the perfect (stepford) wives.

I thought about this after the film ended. As some of you know, I once subscribed to a Catholic dating site. While a member of the site, I was horrified to find that many of the women seeking men on the site were still locked into this 1953 way of thinking- that their worth must come from being a wife and mother. This mode of thinking was on the way out even back then. I'm not condemning the desire to be a wife and mother by any means- It's a noble goal and one of the hardest jobs out there. However, I think if it hasn't happened for you by the time you are in your mid-30s...or if you've been divorced almost seven years.... Then it might be time to buck up and make your own way. Women who look for validity through men are often disappointed.

Needless to say, I was a pariah on that site, but I'm not ashamed of that. Mostly I feel sorry for the women on there who are still clinging to an ideal that no longer exists. I feel sorry for the men they're chasing- They will never fulfill the June Cleaver fantasies. They will still have to do their own thinking, live their own lives, and make their own way...with or without a husband. Many of them will have to learn the hard way- like one of the movie's characters- that having a husband doesn't equal happiness. I'm sure that it could equal happiness, but there's no guarantee, you know.

I wish I could have gone to Wellesley....

When the drugs work

So I'm back among the mobile and quasi-able bodied! If I had been in a better frame of mind, I would have kept a notebook next to my bed. Why? Because muscle relaxer + painkiller = trippy dreams. I stayed knocked out for about 16 hours, and during that time, the muscles in my back calmed down. I made myself go walking this morning (before the cold front hit) and I made it for almost two miles. So far so good. The pain isn't completely gone, but hey...I can move again. Now I'm just in that super-hesitant frame of mind where every move is suspect. I know that in an instant, my ass could be on the floor and I could once again be relegated to the world of the wailing wounded. Who needs that?

My familiar friend

I now know the reason behind my back pain and the reason why it's been going on for so, so long. Right? Right. While this is comforting, it still doesn't change the fact that the pain just won't go away.

I notice people doing simple things- bending over to tie shoes, lifting boxes off of the floor, running on the track.... And I wish so badly that I could do such simple, everyday tasks. These things may seem ordinary to most, but to me they're fantasies of sorts. Heck, I wish I could roll over in bed without wincing in pain. I also think about the days before my back problems began and how I took it all for granted. There are so many things I should have done! This is human nature, I realize. Don't know what you got until it's gone and yada yada yada.

Thankfully, there is a bright side to all of this. When I'm in physical pain, I'm able to focus on solely that. Other fears, pains, insecurities are set aside, and there is some relief. When in physical pain...any other kind of pain seems utterly trivial. So I have to get sort of "zen" about it and accept what is. I have to embrace the pain- my best friend and worst enemy.


Often I go to bed as soon after dinner
as seems adult
(I mean I try to wait for dark)
in order to push away
from the massive pain in sleep's
frail wicker coracle. --Jane Kenyon

The Secret Women

"Just because a man you may be dating is a cardiac surgeon is no guarantee that he won't be a sociopath." --Joyce Maynard

Truer words have n'er been spoken. As I was waiting for my son at his afternoon eye appointment, I was thrilled to see the new issue of Vogue sitting in the stack of reception area magazines. Normally, I like to thumb through the glossy mag to admire the extreme fashions and well, the purses. I was surprised to find articles about two of my favorite literary "secret" women.

The first was an article by Joyce Maynard, famed young lover of the reclusive writer J.D. Salinger. She has enjoyed a certain amount of literary fame because of her association with him, but more recently she is known as a columnist and writer. Her narrative is about her correspondence with a man in prison and how he duped her into believing that he was an understanding and marvelous fellow. She now realizes her error in judgment, but she also recounts how seemingly "normal" men had also duped her- Seemingly normal men (not in prison) who were just as crazy. I find it amazing that an educated woman with a newspaper column could fall for such a line, but then again...Maybe it isn't all that far-fetched, as explained in the quote above. I have dated a CEO, a doctor, a high-level Dallas corporate recruiter, a newspaper publisher, an environmental engineer.... ALL CRAZY. Good jobs and good incomes do not a sane man make. Amen, sister.

Moving on to secret woman #2. I also read an article about a book that has been written about Ted Hughes' mistress, Assia Wevill. While I knew he had a mistress when his late wife (Sylvia Plath) committed suicide, I did not know that Assia met with the same fate. Ted and Assia had a child together, and of course, Ted left them. She fell into a horrible state and killed both her daughter and herself shortly after this. I did not know this until recently. What a horrible fall it must have been to go from other woman to new woman to new mother to yesterday's news. The Ted-Assia-Sylvia love triangle has long fascinated me- I guess because Ted's and Sylvia's poetry is so incredible. (Sylvia's is much better, though.) Such human tragedy... and tragedy that goes on each and every day to people far less famous.

Now before any of you accuse me of being a man-hater, let me say this: These women made their choices. However, when dealing with matters of the human heart, such men are total cads. I know these cads. I lived with one, for crying out loud. They will suck you up and leave you dry and feel completely justified in their misguided ethos to do so. The difference is that these women had to deal with these men in very public ways and weren't able to get over it.

Write on, Joyce. Rest in peace, Sylvia and Assia. The secret is out.

Things I Do Not Understand

1. Why people have to kill in the name of God (or Allah, or whatever)
2. How Rick Perry was elected governor
3. The fascination with Grey's Anatomy
4. How to solve geometric proofs
5. Why my back has to be messed up
6. How to determine gender in French nouns
7. Why women who are not nice have nice husbands
8. Why my almost seven year old has a better grasp of the parts of speech than my sophomores
9. Star Trek
10. How Tivo works

It's a Bittersweet Symphony, This Life

Is there any shame in finding beauty in sadness? Because it's THERE. To me, there is nothing more beautiful than a sad song, sad film, or a sad story. Now I'm not talking about the completely sad and miserable stories where there is no catharsis, no redemption or those packed with senseless violence. Those get on my nerves. Instead, I'm talking about those insights into the human experience that make me appreciate all of this senseless beauty and wonder that exists. I like to see how emotions come together- regardless of what those emotions happen to be. Sometimes they come together like water and oil, but in a truly beautiful bittersweet moment...They blend perfectly. (Like Neopolitan ice cream- Pardon the simile. I'm practicing.)

I catch a lot of crap from my AP students who are still young, mostly optimistic, and completely idealistic. They can't understand why so much literature is, in their words, "like so depressing." I try to explain that what they deem depressing is in fact beautiful and representative of the human experience. Life isn't Hollywood, and there are many of my loyal readers (props to you!) who not only agree with this statement, but who have lived it. This explains why some of the best poetry has been written by mentally unstable drunks, agoraphobics, and young aristocrats dying of tuberculosis. My intent is not to dampen the sparks of optimism of today's youth, but instead, I find it important to be aware of the multitude of human experience and to be open to whatever life brings. Sometimes life can be pretty sucky; however, if you can drown your melancholy in a song, a poem, or a film, I find that it makes the condition much more bearable, even enjoyable. So embrace the bittersweet. Feel it and connect yourself to the universe as we know it.

Playlist for a Cold January Saturday

What am I listening to this morning?

Debaser- The Pixies (must be thinking of my brother)
Ain't No Easy Way- Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (always a classic)
Family- Clinic (These guys are so weird, but they rock!)
Y Control- The Yeah Yeah Yeahs (another kickin' garage sound band)
Pretty Persuasion- R.E.M. (old R.E.M. - before Stipe sold his soul to the devil)
The View From the Afternoon-Arctic Monkeys (I know, I know- They're hyped, but rightfully so...)
Sudden Stars- Stereolab (The 60's mod sound never disappoints.)
Stay Away From Heaven- Yo La Tengo (ditto)
Meet Me At the Movies- The Go (Post White Stripes fun!)
All The Money Or The Simple Life Honey- The Dandy Warhols (Gotta have a Dandy's song in there somewhere.... Today this is in honor of my new Dandy t-shirt.)

This is enough to get anyone's butt off of the couch. Hence, my motivation for keeping the sounds of blissful noise pop/garage rock revival streaming through mi casa while the coffee pot works overtime. It's cold, but who cares?

I should be grading papers right now.

Confessions of an Accused Man-Hater

For probably the first time in my life, I was recently referred to as a "man hater." This comment forced me to reflect upon my feelings/thoughts/awareness of those glorious creatures of the opposite gender. I had to ask myself- Could this statement be true?

What I realized is that I am probably one of the least man hating women you'll ever meet. How could I be so bold as to say this? Well, I have a few reasons to back this thang up.

1. I see the goodness in men. While other women may see exterior actions as proof of internal content, I can see beyond these. Sometimes this has gotten me into trouble because sometimes I have been wrong. But I think I'm right most of the time.

2. I have a grasp on some of the struggles that men face. Maybe this comes from reading books; I can't be sure. For example, someone very dear to me was having a hard time moving forward in his life. He was having trouble accepting the way his life had turned out, and he was still holding on to a dream of a life that never quite materialized. Are these things he told me? No. I figured them out. And then I listened... and then we became friends.

3. Men are loyal. Forget this "girlfriends" stuff. Maybe that works for some women, but I have met few women that I can trust. I have many more men in my life whom I trust and with whom I can be myself. There is something sacred in a friendship between a woman and a man; a freedom to be yourself because there is no competition factor.

4. I appreciate a man's opinion on things. I learned long ago that men and women perceive situations differently. To become a more well-rounded person, I have often sought the advice and/or opinions of my male friends. Men see the world in a more black and white fashion and are more likely to be upfront about what they really think about things. I appreciate this.

So, no man hating here... Let the accusations fly. I am not a man-hater. I may have been burned by them and some have let me down, but more times than not, my life has been enriched because of the men in my life.

The Sweetest Songs

As I drove to the airport on the morning of December 30th, the city was still asleep and the traffic was minimal. Because of these unusual factors, I was able to listen to the radio pretty intently. There is one particular piece that I heard on that morning that has stayed with me. I have thought of it often, and I think it might be one of the more beautiful stories that I have heard in quite some time.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6696483

Pablo Neruda is one of my favorite poets. Even in translation, his writing is haunting and sublime. His expressions of love are not filled with trite rhyme but are instead infused with a constant sense of longing, loss, and tenderness. He realizes that life is short and that true love is not. I cannot express it in any other fashion: I love these sonnets. Obviously, Peter Lieberman does, too.

The story of this couple moved me for so many reasons. First, they shared a common love of music and of art. Secondly, they truly loved each other and seemed to value each other's passions and talents. Their love was cut short, and hearing Peter Lieberson's cracking voice from his hospital room in Houston was enough to move me to tears. Few people find love like that. Even fewer have it for long.

"When I die, I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me once more:
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep.
I want your ears still to hear the wind, I want you
to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walk on.

I want what I love to continue to live,
and you whom I love and sang above everything else
to continue to flourish, full-flowered:

so that you can reach everything my love directs you to.
so that my shadow can travel along in your hair,
so that everything can learn the reason for my song."

Pablo Neruda-

Going Forward, Going Back

The college experience is wasted on the clueless youth of our country. Someone told me this when I was dumb and 17 and applying to college; and though I scoffed at the time, every year I find this statement to be more accurate.

When I entered college, I had only a vague notion of how I wanted to live my life. Every day bred a new idea, and my teachers' reminders that I could do or be anything I wanted to be only confounded the problem. I let my parents call many of the shots and then begrudged them all.

Today, my students have even more realms of possibility and are even more confused. Most of them, like me, have grown up in fairly sheltered environments and view the world with fearful apprehension. They fear being left behind, and this fear combined with such broad and vast choices seem to shut them down. They give up before they start. To them, adulthood is something to be avoided at all costs because it's just too frightening.

How I wish I could go back to those days of college applications and limitless possibility. Only now do I truly believe that I could have gone anywhere or done anything that I really wanted to do. What would I change? Who would I be now? I honestly haven't a clue.

Sure, I can make choices now, but I have responsibilities and obligations that cannot be ignored. The more productive action for me to take now is to instill the belief in my students that they don't have to settle, their parents aren't always right, and they do have the world at their feet. They have a bigger destiny than cluelessness.

Thoughts During Bus Duty

Wow look at those icicles on the fence Why is that kid standing in the mud Was that a snowflake I just saw I wish I had a Pop-Tart right now No wait a waffle I can't forget to stop by the library otherwise I'll owe them money Dang, I am out of stamps I can't wait to go walking this afternoon Maybe I'll last about 30 minutes max Still, it will feel great I can't believe that kid wants to have a baby Have I not been able to talk any sense into him I guess not Here comes Bus 1.......

Anthem for a Beautiful World

Despite the full-fledged whining that I've heard from many of my fellow Texans in recent days, I enjoy the cold. I savor the cold. There is such beauty in a frosted landscape, a grey-shaded earth. All seems to be in a sleepy peace.

Beyond the physical attractiveness of the cold, I find that it connects me to ages past. As I shiver in my gas-heated home, I imagine the Bohemian settlers in Nebraska surviving their first winters. When I eat the homemade beef stew prepared in my electric Crock Pot, I think of the Germans making their way across the windy plains to find plots of land to farm. I try to fathom their cold. I try to fathom such will.

Though I'd like to believe that I am made of such grit, I know how spoiled I am by modern conveniences. I'm sure there's a great-great-great uncle reading this from above who is laughing at my audacity at this very moment. (Uncle Fritz? You there?) However, this doesn't take away the appreciation I have for those who cleared the way for me, nor the beauty I see in a wintry, January day. All is beautiful.

Lessons I've Learned About Men

1. When a man says he'll call, he probably won't.
2. A man might say he loves you for who you are, but he will still wish you looked like a pin-up girl.
3. It's easier for women to trust again after being burned than it is for men.
4. Men do not like being alone.
5. Men do not like it when you are clingy, but they do not like it if you're not. Figure that one out.
6. Drunken rants reveal all you need to know. And more.
7. A man needs to feel smarter than you, even though he may admire your intellect.
8. If a man has been burned before, you will always be suspect.
9. A man does not love you if he tells you so too soon.
10. Never believe it when he says "I'm going to leave her."

What is FM 371?

It is the highway that goes nowhere.
It is where I do my best thinking, zoning, and realizing.
It is the gateway to another place.

It is my new blog.