Friends and Family

I traveled to visit a friend for Thanksgiving. I have known this guy since he and my daughter where friends in high school. Considering that on an ordinary day we reconnected, after not having been particularly close and not having thought much about each other for years, speaks to the fact that timing is everything, and life is completely unpredictable. Our friendship took root while I was contemplating going to school and later, he joined me in Iowa City, where we shared an apartment for three years. The relationship has been a mainstay through our individual triumphs and trials. He is one of a few people outside of my family who has taught me, by example and experience, what it means to love another person. We are an "odd couple" in friendship and share a bond that I can say without hesitation will never be broken. We understand each other. We have celebrated Thanksgiving together more often than apart for the past ten years, and this is fitting, since Cory is someone to whom I am endlessly thankful for his love and understanding.

Shortly after I got home, I heard from my daughter, who had been caving in a remote area of Mexico. She was at the border, safe and sound, heading back to Austin after having a wonderful adventure with friends. I worry about her when she's caving; in fact I experienced a near panic attack thinking about her and her safety the night before last, just as I was falling asleep. I literally forced myself to change my thoughts and see her smiling face, sitting at a campfire with her caver friends, swapping stories about that day's adventures. I love my spirited daughter, and when she was injured while canyoneering in Mexico just over a year ago, I learned (again) the terrifying lesson that no amount of love and concern can protect those we cherish from life's dangers or vicissitudes. So, every time I hear that she has returned from one of her caving quests, I breathe a sigh of relief, marvel at her courage, and.......call Cory.

Simple Gifts

I woke up early this morning. I'm doing that as I get older. My mother has been an early riser for as long as I have known her. I remember disdaining this habit of hers during my teenage years. Mostly because it seemed that the longer she was awake, the more disgusted she became with the number of hours her daughter could "waste lying in that bed." My mother was the daughter of a tenant farmer, and her family of 12 spent long hours working a farm they would never own and would sometimes be removed from for inability to pay the rent. She says she never knew hunger, but has talked about eating lard on bread when there was no other food in the pantry. Seems Dickensian to us today, doesn't it? She picked corn by hand for a dollar a week and left school after eighth grade to work "in town" as a maid for the local doctor's family. Reflecting on her experience, it's no wonder she banged around furiously as the hours rolled by and I remained sleeping after a night of high school merriment. Little did I imagine then that my own years of rising early to make a living would create a similar habit of finding it nearly impossible to sleep after 6 a.m.

My computer sits in front of a window in my apartment, and even when it's cold, I open it to smell fresh air and hear the sounds of the outdoors, especially in the early morning. Today, I heard geese honking overhead as they migrate south. I've lived in Minnesota for six years; there are lots of opportunities here to witness this, but I still pause to listen to their magical sound. If I'm outside when I hear it, I look up to view the birds flying in formation. I hope I never get over the mystical, symmetrical beauty of it.

Thanksgiving is coming, and maybe it's what prompted me to listen to one of my favorite mp3s. It's Yo-yo Ma's gorgeous cello playing the Shaker hymn "Simple Gifts." Alison Krauss' pure voice joins in with the lyrics. It's a lovely rendition of this beautiful song:

'Tis the gift to be simple,
'Tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
It will be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gained,
to bow and to bend, we will not be ashamed.
To turn, turn, will be our delight,
'Til by turning, turning, we come round right.


The brief lyric is packed with valuable advice, don't you think? I wonder about the "turning" in the hymn. Is it a reference to something in Shaker beliefs? Ah, the beauty of the internet for research!

Night- Poetry for the new unit

Our next unit in Creative Writing is poetry. I try not to ask the kids to do something I'm not willing to do myself, so here is mine for today-

Night

My uplifted palm cradles the pale,
full moon that is your face.
I find my heart and tell it now to go.
Go now, into the vast, velvet sky.

I am lost but unafraid.
I follow like a pilgrim, rising,
knowing and not knowing,
tumbling, singing, swaying to familiar rhythms.

Who has seen it? Artists? Shepherds?
Drowsy mothers keeping watch?
A silver-lit breeze blows through,
calling to sinking spirits.

I am awed by the stillness,
charmed by the softness of the silence.
Wandering and wondering,
leaving and coming home.


Anyone out there enjoy writing a verse now and then? Let's have some fun and share.

Differences

Awhile ago, an old school chum of mine who has made the military his career sent me a "joke" that really offended me. He sent lots of jokes related to his brand of patriotism, the military, and his generally conservative viewpoint. Anyone who knows me can imagine I didn't find most of them funny, but until that one, I had always just read them and cringed or deleted them and remained silent.

I really don't like conflict and normally avoid political confrontation. This time, though, I began to wonder why he assumed everyone on his email list enjoyed being treated to his political viewpoint, and felt the need to let him know my previous silence didn't represent a tacit approval. I replied to him (and the entire list) with a less than positive (okay, it was downright negative and actually, pretty sarcastic) response. He fired a few shots back which I didn't respond to, and that was that. I heard from a few others on the list. One told me to "lighten up," one supported his sending the joke, and a few responded privately and thanked me for speaking up. Since then, I've heard from this person, but only very superficially and a few times the messages were, I felt, an attempt to further express his views. I haven't responded at all since the original.

To be honest, the whole thing bothers me on many levels, not the least of which is feeling disappointed in myself for not being able to resolve this difference in a more congenial manner. This brings me to the following...

When, if ever, should we allow political differences to create conflict in a friendship? Moreover, can those who hold disparate political views really be close friends? We hear so much about the intense partisanship in American society. Have I fallen victim to this, or is there a point at which one is obligated to speak up? Thoughts?

Anyone?

No one is reading my posts; at least no one is commenting. Could be because I haven't "advertised." I understand a new blogger must build an audience by letting friends and acquaintances know one has started one. Suddenly, this seems like a lot of work. Maybe it's because I don't have anything interesting to say, but I prefer to think it's the former...
I do marvel at the technology that allows anyone to "publish," but I also realize there's such a profusion of blogs, it's easy to get lost in the shuffle.

Had an interesting meeting at school today. The English department met to discuss Minnesota's new writing competency test. The old test was administered in 10th grade and called the Basic Standards Test- a test required for graduation. The new test is also required for graduation, but we are told the rigor will be greater in the new one, although it will be administered to freshmen. Also, it is expected that 30% of kids will fail the first time (percent of students who passed the BST the first time was around 82% at our school). Both tests provide retake opportunities, but does there seem to be something wrong with this picture? The general public won't understand the difference between the old and new tests, and I can see the headlines now: "Steep Drop in Writing Test Scores!"

And what about the kids? With far more missing the "first cut," are we going to provide tutoring and remediation to writers who need (have always needed, regardless of the method of testing) more help before they test? Apparently not. We have provided a writing lab for kids who haven't passed the BST the first time... after they fail. Arghhhhhhhhhhh!

My Cspan Addiction and an Age-old Debate

I am a regular viewer of Cspan, and lately Cspan's Book TV is my favorite. This morning, I watched a panel of science writers speak to the Commonwealth Club of California. The discussion turned to the broad question of whether science will contribute to the ultimate destruction of humanity or provide the means to save us. You can probably imagine the discussion that ensued regarding this complicated question- the destructive use of atomic energy, the threat of biological warfare, the needless and greedy politicization of science, advances in medicine and other life- and earth-sustaining technologies, and so on. The science writers pointed out that every rational investigation of the topic proves science has, in spite of its destructive uses, contributed vastly to the preservation, and moreover, the quality of human life. I agree.

However, as we acknowledge the destructive forces at work in the human application of science, we must ask- What, then, can save us from ourselves?

During the questions-from-the-audience portion of the program, a woman stood up and said (this is paraphrased)- You aren't scientists, you are science writers. Your lives are devoted to producing narratives that help us understand the constructive and destructive properties of science. Isn't it possible that literature has the power to mitigate the destructive forces of science, and that literature, not science, will provide the ultimate salvation of humanity?- Of course the writers lavished her with applause and praised her wisdom (partly facetiously). I think she made an important point.

Ultimately, what is more important than the stories we tell ourselves and each other that enable understanding, mitigate the desire for power, and calm our existential fears? This brings us to the age-old question: What is more essential to human existence, art or science? Many seem to believe not that art has outlived its usefulness, but that the overwhelming advances in technology have settled the dabate. What do you think?

First Post

Recently, I've run into people who are blogging. Many times I read these blogs and admire the profundity expressed by these seemingly ordinary people. At other times, I've pondered the idea that technology has enabled nearly anyone who can type entrance into the group of souls known as writers. Prior to the technology of the blogosphere, it was, in general, a specialized and elite group who were allowed to make a widely distributed contribution to human discourse. Now, everybody's a writer. For the most part, I like the idea.

I'm teaching a creative writing class this year, and I thought this might be a good place to practice what I preach to my students:
How does one become a writer? Write. How does one get better at it? Write. And reflect. And then do it again, and again, and again.
But to lower expectations (my personal method of preserving self-respect) I named the blog "A Box of Rox," as in "dumber than.." Clever, yes? No earth-shaking revelations, brilliant ideas or genius of expression expected here. And of course the thoughts do come to you from this box, of sorts, and my name is Rox...

I want to invite, encourage, (beg?) any reader to contribute to the conversation. As I also tell my students, "Without a reader, it's ink on a page, kids. " Don't you agree?