Children of the lightning bugs
I have returned from four days of annual sessions of Illinois Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends. We meet in an un-air-conditioned historic meetinghouse in the middle of cornfields. That makes it hot and green. The corn was very high this year. I drove back roads between the meetinghouse and my air-conditioned hotel, seeing few vehicles. I did see a bright red-headed pheasant in the middle of the road who certainly took his time yielding to my moving vehicle. Perhaps he had the right of way. I timed my daily departure as the twilight faded and the lightning bugs started their light show. Hundreds of little buggers gave their phosphorescent winks as I traveled their turf. Quakers are historically called Children of the Light. Illinois Yearly Meeting ought to be known as Children of the Lightning Bugs.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Definitely Christian
I came back from fictive England after a 12-hour stay, which is how long it took me to finish Harry Potter VII. Three of us have finished 700-plus pages since 12:50 am Saturday morning. (I was the slow reader.) I had to sleep on it because I felt a little disoriented after closing the book. Today I really like it, although it sure does seem like a book for grown-ups with this volume, which has so many sad things in it that my son doesn't like it. He rightly called some of the character deaths overkill. To me they make literary sense and moral sense. JK Rowling is deservedly enriched by the fruit of her literary and moral sensibility. Hard to see what Christians can complain about after all this is said and done. But some of them do love complaining. Myself, I love having a book the four of us will be talking about at tonight's dinner table, and with lots of others in the weeks to come. I also love that it is good and accessible. Those two qualities don't necessarily go together in contemporary literature. It's positively operatic.
I came back from fictive England after a 12-hour stay, which is how long it took me to finish Harry Potter VII. Three of us have finished 700-plus pages since 12:50 am Saturday morning. (I was the slow reader.) I had to sleep on it because I felt a little disoriented after closing the book. Today I really like it, although it sure does seem like a book for grown-ups with this volume, which has so many sad things in it that my son doesn't like it. He rightly called some of the character deaths overkill. To me they make literary sense and moral sense. JK Rowling is deservedly enriched by the fruit of her literary and moral sensibility. Hard to see what Christians can complain about after all this is said and done. But some of them do love complaining. Myself, I love having a book the four of us will be talking about at tonight's dinner table, and with lots of others in the weeks to come. I also love that it is good and accessible. Those two qualities don't necessarily go together in contemporary literature. It's positively operatic.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
Harry-ed
I'm on #6 on the Rereading Express, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. This time through I particularly like numbers 3 (Prisoner of Azkaban) and 5 (Order of the Phoenix). Azkaban is wonderfully layered, with lots of character development and interest. Phoenix is one heck of a complex book, with all kinds of stories and details eddying around. I find myself looking for clues: why is this character here and is he or she coming back? Kreacher, for example. Fleur de la Cour from 4 (Goblet of Fire) is back in 6 (Prince). How tightly will Rowling finally weave it all together?
We have a betting pool in the family. I have bet that Harry lives, which I wasn't as sure of until I re-read. If he dies, Voldemort lives, right? Whose will be the sacrifice, since Rowling has hinted there is/will be one? Is it Dumbledore's?
Harry will live
Snape will save Harry and die
Voldemort will die
That makes the two dead major characters we have been told to expect.
So why isn't the Bible as interesting as this? Same theme: good and evil.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Cashing in
This morning I went to the bank to cash in savings bonds from my dad's estate to pay for our trip to Poland in August. Naturally the transaction took some time. (I was glad I wasn't behind myself in line.) Purchased by my dad in the early 1980s, the bonds earned 7.5 percent interest. They were worth not quite twice their face value; my dad had paid half the face value. He bought them for his retirement. I think he was 65; he died at age 69. So they now send his granddaughter, whom he missed meeting by three weeks, and me to Poland to see where he grew up and to meet my ciocia Helen, his only remaining sister.
He went back once to visit, in 1966. I remember the cheeses he brought back, which were confiscated at customs. I remember them, however, because they made his suitcase smell horrible. Dad's stinky cheeses passed into family lore. The following year he had another of his episodic breakdowns. That, too, I remember. I fantasize that I will understand his illness better when I go to Poland.
The return on the bonds makes me, for the purpose of this trip anyway, a rich American. I won't have to worry about money. I thought that time and interest had done the work of giving the bonds value. But it was my dad who did the work. I have received a gift from him, long after he died.
This morning I went to the bank to cash in savings bonds from my dad's estate to pay for our trip to Poland in August. Naturally the transaction took some time. (I was glad I wasn't behind myself in line.) Purchased by my dad in the early 1980s, the bonds earned 7.5 percent interest. They were worth not quite twice their face value; my dad had paid half the face value. He bought them for his retirement. I think he was 65; he died at age 69. So they now send his granddaughter, whom he missed meeting by three weeks, and me to Poland to see where he grew up and to meet my ciocia Helen, his only remaining sister.
He went back once to visit, in 1966. I remember the cheeses he brought back, which were confiscated at customs. I remember them, however, because they made his suitcase smell horrible. Dad's stinky cheeses passed into family lore. The following year he had another of his episodic breakdowns. That, too, I remember. I fantasize that I will understand his illness better when I go to Poland.
The return on the bonds makes me, for the purpose of this trip anyway, a rich American. I won't have to worry about money. I thought that time and interest had done the work of giving the bonds value. But it was my dad who did the work. I have received a gift from him, long after he died.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Ordinary cruelties
Yesterday I had the unexpected job of telling a friend's sibling that their mother had died. My friend is caught in the middle of her family's warring factions; one side didn't want to tell the other that their mother had died. This to me was a few steps beyond the pale of ordinary cruelties; it is positively Shakespearean in the depths of its painful hostility. Well, good thing we all get along, I remarked to my daughter. Then she reminded me about the family member we don't speak to. Let him without sin cast the first stone.
Yesterday I had the unexpected job of telling a friend's sibling that their mother had died. My friend is caught in the middle of her family's warring factions; one side didn't want to tell the other that their mother had died. This to me was a few steps beyond the pale of ordinary cruelties; it is positively Shakespearean in the depths of its painful hostility. Well, good thing we all get along, I remarked to my daughter. Then she reminded me about the family member we don't speak to. Let him without sin cast the first stone.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The hawk and the vulture: a correction
Last week on vacation I learned a lot. I learned that Arkansas is beautiful. In spots, anyway. I learned the difference between a great spangled fritillary and Diana fritillary butterfly. I learned the correct pronunciation of fritillary. And I learned the difference between a turkey vulture and a hawk. (All those big ole birds look alike on the wing to the untutored eye.) We saw a hawk come careering by us and watched it land in a tree. It was close enough for us to see that predatory head and beak shape. It looked at me. Its head swiveled as I walked. Good thing I was bigger than it, since it was dinner time.
Last week on vacation I learned a lot. I learned that Arkansas is beautiful. In spots, anyway. I learned the difference between a great spangled fritillary and Diana fritillary butterfly. I learned the correct pronunciation of fritillary. And I learned the difference between a turkey vulture and a hawk. (All those big ole birds look alike on the wing to the untutored eye.) We saw a hawk come careering by us and watched it land in a tree. It was close enough for us to see that predatory head and beak shape. It looked at me. Its head swiveled as I walked. Good thing I was bigger than it, since it was dinner time.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Who knew
that the Garden of Eden is in Arkansas? I can see a hawk -- two, actually -- in my back yard circling on the thermals atop the Petit Jean River valley. On top of Arkansas at Mt. Magazine State Park, I can see for miles across, and half a mile down, since the elevation is 2,700 feet. I don't believe I have ever seen this many butterflies in my life. The Diana fritillary is the state butterfly, but it looks a lot like the great spangled fritillary, at least when the novice butterfly watcher sees the orange and black mid-sized butterflies on the wing rather than feeding on, what else, butterfly weed. Or coreopsis. Or coneflowers. Butterflies in paradise. Or maybe it's the hot tub that clinches it. I haven't died and gone to heaven -- just Arkansas. We walked for miles.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Cloud of witnesses
Last week I went to a book show (Religious Booksellers Trade Exhibit) and I remembered why I wrote a poem in 7th grade called Books Are Our Friends, for which I won, of course, a book, called Clare Goes to Holland. There's something reassuring and inviting about a large area filled with books. Experience or knowledge take on a certain orderliness when compressed into book form. As I grew and read and learned I knew for certain that books enlarged my experience. How strange that people don't read. What a loss for them. It's such a cheap vacation getaway. People in religion sometimes use the phrase "cloud of witnesses" (Heb. 12:1), a lovely Pauline figure of speech that describes a sense of blessed company. Saint Dostoevsky, pray for us. Saint Tolstoy, pray for us.
Last week I went to a book show (Religious Booksellers Trade Exhibit) and I remembered why I wrote a poem in 7th grade called Books Are Our Friends, for which I won, of course, a book, called Clare Goes to Holland. There's something reassuring and inviting about a large area filled with books. Experience or knowledge take on a certain orderliness when compressed into book form. As I grew and read and learned I knew for certain that books enlarged my experience. How strange that people don't read. What a loss for them. It's such a cheap vacation getaway. People in religion sometimes use the phrase "cloud of witnesses" (Heb. 12:1), a lovely Pauline figure of speech that describes a sense of blessed company. Saint Dostoevsky, pray for us. Saint Tolstoy, pray for us.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
What I'm reading
A Patchwork Planet. By Anne Tyler.
Every time someone asks me who my favorite writer is, I always forget my answer: Anne Tyler. (I usually say Shakespeare, but that's somehow different.) I love that she is right next door to realism -- not magical realism like Garcia Marquez, but quirky-fabulous, as in fable. As in storytelling. As in made up. The jobs her characters have, like Barnaby's handyman-odd job gig in this book, is realistic yet such a company could never exist. I never want to finish her books, but I also can't wait to find out what happens. I think of her as a Quakerly writer, ultimately very kind to her deeply flawed characters. She captures how we muddle through life. Her writing gives fiction a good name.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Small potatoes
Today I found the rest of my family.
I got a letter from my Aunt Helen, my father's youngest sister. She lives in Tarnow, in southern Poland. She doesn't speak English. I don't speak Polish. I sent a snail-mail letter in English and Polish. She responded via email (wow, they have computers in what I called "the old country" growing up) in Polish. Her niece's daughter says -- in English -- they do want to meet me. I translated the letter using one of those online translators. It says something about small potatoes, apparently. Feels like big ziemniaki to me.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Tulips
When I came home from New York this weekend to temperatures in the mid-70s, my new tulips had opened with a spring splash. They stood (well, some of them leaned) in bunches scattered in the garden. Some of the colors are astonishing. One is a pearlescent pink with a soft yellow wash. Another is cherry pink flecked with white. Another is light lemon. Their cups hide dark hearts. Not only are they different colors, they are different heights and shapes. Some are almond-shaped as they wait to open; others are open classic Us. I looked up Sylvia Plath's poem Tulips. Gorgeous poem. Here's my take: These garden sentinels produce oxygen; they cheer me.
When I came home from New York this weekend to temperatures in the mid-70s, my new tulips had opened with a spring splash. They stood (well, some of them leaned) in bunches scattered in the garden. Some of the colors are astonishing. One is a pearlescent pink with a soft yellow wash. Another is cherry pink flecked with white. Another is light lemon. Their cups hide dark hearts. Not only are they different colors, they are different heights and shapes. Some are almond-shaped as they wait to open; others are open classic Us. I looked up Sylvia Plath's poem Tulips. Gorgeous poem. Here's my take: These garden sentinels produce oxygen; they cheer me.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Breaking the spell
Two recent Oprah shows -- on autism and addictions -- have disappointed me. Both borrowed heavily from cable-television documentaries, which is a cheap way to find your subjects. Both spent a great deal of time on a number of individual subjects but didn't necessarily give varied experiences. That was obvious to me with the autism show, since I know something about the subject. The spectrum of autism disorders -- and it is a spectrum -- wasn't represented; there was nothing about Asperger's syndrome. On the addiction show, it bothered me a lot that Oprah kept asking questions and cutting people off at a certain point in their answers. Sure, she's not Bill O'Reilly, but I wasn't feeling the love. I was feeling the lecture as she quizzed five case studies.
Two recent Oprah shows -- on autism and addictions -- have disappointed me. Both borrowed heavily from cable-television documentaries, which is a cheap way to find your subjects. Both spent a great deal of time on a number of individual subjects but didn't necessarily give varied experiences. That was obvious to me with the autism show, since I know something about the subject. The spectrum of autism disorders -- and it is a spectrum -- wasn't represented; there was nothing about Asperger's syndrome. On the addiction show, it bothered me a lot that Oprah kept asking questions and cutting people off at a certain point in their answers. Sure, she's not Bill O'Reilly, but I wasn't feeling the love. I was feeling the lecture as she quizzed five case studies.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
The shallow and the deep end
I haven't watched Oprah in a while, having felt a little jaded by the linkage between her and The Secret, which I regard as a pretty shallow rendering of a human impulse. (though no more crass than The Prayer of Jabez.) I got tired of having to translate Oprah's interest in it as "positive thinking" rather than "material acquisition." It is New Thought, which holds that the material world can be affected by thinking. That's not hard to agree with. Whether you can produce a Mercedes-Benz or a cure for breast cancer simply by visualizing is more arguable. But I don't want to argue. I'd rather be inspired by generosity, which Oprah does so very well -- both inspire and give away. Today's show was on "finding your calling." Don't do things until they hurt. Do things because that is what you are supposed to be doing, and the "supposed to be" represents your recognition and acceptance of God's will (though nobody used the G-word) -- the intention for your life. Nothing is forced. Psychologists call this flow. Generosity is the deep end of religion. Thanks, O.
I haven't watched Oprah in a while, having felt a little jaded by the linkage between her and The Secret, which I regard as a pretty shallow rendering of a human impulse. (though no more crass than The Prayer of Jabez.) I got tired of having to translate Oprah's interest in it as "positive thinking" rather than "material acquisition." It is New Thought, which holds that the material world can be affected by thinking. That's not hard to agree with. Whether you can produce a Mercedes-Benz or a cure for breast cancer simply by visualizing is more arguable. But I don't want to argue. I'd rather be inspired by generosity, which Oprah does so very well -- both inspire and give away. Today's show was on "finding your calling." Don't do things until they hurt. Do things because that is what you are supposed to be doing, and the "supposed to be" represents your recognition and acceptance of God's will (though nobody used the G-word) -- the intention for your life. Nothing is forced. Psychologists call this flow. Generosity is the deep end of religion. Thanks, O.
Monday, April 02, 2007
What I'm reading
A Thousand Names For Joy. By Byron Katie.
I got the book while working on a Publishers Weekly story about Buddhist books. Katie strikes me as one of those very compelling people whom you admire but don't want to live with, like Gandhi. The promise of a little joy pick-me-up is why I picked up the title. Yet I also can't help but wonder if the enlightened, don't-know mind resembles the mind with Alzheimer's. All is equal and new.
How my garden grows
Slowly. Every tomato tells a story, since each one has a name. Boxcar Willie. Lillian. Old Flame. Brandywine. Black from Tula. Quimbaya. Green Grape. Amish Paste. Mrs. Benson. Hard Rock. Toni's Round. Rose de Berne. Interesting how many females there are. Hard to pick between Lillian and Mrs. Benson as my favorite. The yellow Lillians strongly remind me of my mother. The little gals have popped up in their seedling beds with ferocity and multiplicity -- admirable germination rates. I haven't visted them today, but they have basil for company. Let us now praise heirloom tomatoes, though maybe we should hold the praise, and the pasta, for August.
Slowly. Every tomato tells a story, since each one has a name. Boxcar Willie. Lillian. Old Flame. Brandywine. Black from Tula. Quimbaya. Green Grape. Amish Paste. Mrs. Benson. Hard Rock. Toni's Round. Rose de Berne. Interesting how many females there are. Hard to pick between Lillian and Mrs. Benson as my favorite. The yellow Lillians strongly remind me of my mother. The little gals have popped up in their seedling beds with ferocity and multiplicity -- admirable germination rates. I haven't visted them today, but they have basil for company. Let us now praise heirloom tomatoes, though maybe we should hold the praise, and the pasta, for August.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Buddha meets the Chicago Bears
Watching football is an exercise in observing desire (tanha). How attached am I to the outcome of this play? How much do I care if Rex Grossman throws an interception? What am I doing here, flipping the TV on and off because I can't bear to see a Bear error? There is an end to suffering, according to the Four Noble Truths. It's a Super Bowl victory for the Chicago Bears.
Watching football is an exercise in observing desire (tanha). How attached am I to the outcome of this play? How much do I care if Rex Grossman throws an interception? What am I doing here, flipping the TV on and off because I can't bear to see a Bear error? There is an end to suffering, according to the Four Noble Truths. It's a Super Bowl victory for the Chicago Bears.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
You could look it up
Oprah Winfrey does not need me to defend her. Nor does she pay me to say nice things about her. She has well-compensated people to do that. My point about the recent criticism of her for spending $40 million on a school for South African girls is that much of the criticism is unjustified because it’s underinformed. She should spend money on schools here? In 2000 she gave $10 million to A Better Chance , a Boston organization for gifted high school students of color, and has served as spokesperson for the organization. And that’s just one of her million-dollar size checks. Teachers are her favorite people. She said that at least as early as 1987. In early 2006, she did a special report on education in America. Did you see it? If not, you could look it up.
She should fund AIDS clinics? She has. Check the tax filing for her Oprah Winfrey Foundation . She got Brad Pitt interested in Africa before Angelina Jolie did. Watch the show. She has spent a lot of time in Africa focusing on a variety of conditions on that needy continent – women raped in Rwanda, civil war in Darfur, AIDS orphans. How many other people can you think of offhand who have spent TV airtime explaining to people what a fistula is – you could look it up -- and how a dedicated doctor is working to help Ethiopian women who suffer from incontinence and social ostracism because of this condition?
We need money here? Oprah pledged $10 million to Hurricane Katrina relief and made it the subject of extensive coverage on her show, seen around the world. She got a lot of celebrities – people like Jamie Foxx -- to pitch in with relief, so that she could leverage the valuable currency of celebrity and grab more spotlight for more of the hundreds of thousands of people affected by this catastrophe. She’s spearheaded a drive to build houses for those displaced. You could look it up at her website.
There’s a whole portion of Oprah’s website devoted to her philanthropy. It’s not hidden. That, too, you can look up. In 2006, Business Week estimated her lifetime giving at $303 million. On the magazine’s top 50 philanthropists list , she’s #32. I just looked it up. Education is freedom, she told Business Week in 2004. She really does like education. It’s been a pattern and intention in her giving.
So: How much is enough dollars or attention? Or too much? People have different opinions on that. But please, before you express your opinion, do a little homework. Look it up. It would be educational.
Oprah Winfrey does not need me to defend her. Nor does she pay me to say nice things about her. She has well-compensated people to do that. My point about the recent criticism of her for spending $40 million on a school for South African girls is that much of the criticism is unjustified because it’s underinformed. She should spend money on schools here? In 2000 she gave $10 million to A Better Chance , a Boston organization for gifted high school students of color, and has served as spokesperson for the organization. And that’s just one of her million-dollar size checks. Teachers are her favorite people. She said that at least as early as 1987. In early 2006, she did a special report on education in America. Did you see it? If not, you could look it up.
She should fund AIDS clinics? She has. Check the tax filing for her Oprah Winfrey Foundation . She got Brad Pitt interested in Africa before Angelina Jolie did. Watch the show. She has spent a lot of time in Africa focusing on a variety of conditions on that needy continent – women raped in Rwanda, civil war in Darfur, AIDS orphans. How many other people can you think of offhand who have spent TV airtime explaining to people what a fistula is – you could look it up -- and how a dedicated doctor is working to help Ethiopian women who suffer from incontinence and social ostracism because of this condition?
We need money here? Oprah pledged $10 million to Hurricane Katrina relief and made it the subject of extensive coverage on her show, seen around the world. She got a lot of celebrities – people like Jamie Foxx -- to pitch in with relief, so that she could leverage the valuable currency of celebrity and grab more spotlight for more of the hundreds of thousands of people affected by this catastrophe. She’s spearheaded a drive to build houses for those displaced. You could look it up at her website.
There’s a whole portion of Oprah’s website devoted to her philanthropy. It’s not hidden. That, too, you can look up. In 2006, Business Week estimated her lifetime giving at $303 million. On the magazine’s top 50 philanthropists list , she’s #32. I just looked it up. Education is freedom, she told Business Week in 2004. She really does like education. It’s been a pattern and intention in her giving.
So: How much is enough dollars or attention? Or too much? People have different opinions on that. But please, before you express your opinion, do a little homework. Look it up. It would be educational.
Monday, January 08, 2007
What I'm reading
Friendship: An Expose. By Joseph Epstein.
I would not normally be reading this. I tried Epstein's Fabulous Small Jews and didn't like his characters. But this book was given to me in exchange for some volunteer work I had done with a good friend. Epstein's style is classy and classical; he writes for people who will not be puzzled by words like "inanition" (I paused) and references to La Rochefoucauld. He reminds me of 18th century English essayists, mulling the next phrase, quill poised over parchment. It takes me back to graduate school. Maybe a cocktail party on the North Shore. It's growing on me, except for the cover.
Friendship: An Expose. By Joseph Epstein.
I would not normally be reading this. I tried Epstein's Fabulous Small Jews and didn't like his characters. But this book was given to me in exchange for some volunteer work I had done with a good friend. Epstein's style is classy and classical; he writes for people who will not be puzzled by words like "inanition" (I paused) and references to La Rochefoucauld. He reminds me of 18th century English essayists, mulling the next phrase, quill poised over parchment. It takes me back to graduate school. Maybe a cocktail party on the North Shore. It's growing on me, except for the cover.
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