Friday, December 24, 2010

A Christmas Contradiction

This thing has been bothering me for a couple of weeks now, and I thought it might be the right time to share my observation with the world.

Compare two of the most famous Christmas films of all time: How the Grinch Stole Christmas (specifically the half-hour animated show, not the newfangled live-action Jim Carrey nonsense), and Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer (the stop-motion animation extravaganza).

First, let's review the plot of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The Grinch, a mean-spirited guy who lives in a cave to avoid all contact with happy people, decides that he hates Christmas so much that he wants to steal it. So he goes all cat-burglar on Whoville, taking away all the Christmas trappings: the presents, the stockings, the decorations, even the tree and the food for the Christmas dinner. Then, smug and satisfied that the Whos are totally lacking all things Christmas and looking forward to hearing their cries of dismay, the Grinch looks down on Whoville only to see that all the Whos have gathered in a circle and are singing. They found a way to celebrate Christmas that didn't involve material goods. So instead of concluding that next year he should improve his plan to include surgical removal of all the Whos' larynges, he has an epiphany regarding the true meaning of Christmas and decides to give everything back, even participate in the festivities.

In all, it's a great story about how although the festive trappings and doodads and baubles may make Christmas extra fun, they are not the be-all-end-all, and that Christmas is more of an ineffable, intangible, dare I say spiritual thing unaffected by such mundane setbacks as stolen hams.

Now, let's take a look at Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. We needn't summarize the whole story, just one scene. On Christmas Eve, Santa notices that it's too foggy to safely steer his sleigh through the sky to deliver presents, and it isn't showing signs of letting up. So what does he do? He announces that he will have to "cancel Christmas." Not just "cancel the toy-delivery", but Christmas itself. Santa Claus, the ultimate Christmas icon second only to Baby Jesus, often thought of as the personification of Christmas Spirit, doesn't think that Christmas can happen without toys. Not only that, he's thwarted by a simple fog. It didn't even occur to him to bring a lantern or two. How fragile Christmas must be, and how temporal, if this is to be believed.

So what do you believe? Do you believe that Christmas is about presents and decorations and feasting, or is it about something more intangible - and therefore more enduring than the ham that will soon be digested away and the toys you'll probably have gotten bored of by New Year's? If your Christmas encounters some setback - say the feast gets burnt, your presents get lost in the mail, your relatives are fighting, the store runs out of the toy your kids desperately need in their stockings - do you give up, canceling Christmas in your heart by letting frustration and stress overtake you, or do you let joy prevail, and find a Christmas spirit that cannot be stolen?

You may find that if your Christmas doesn't depend on the material trappings, then neither will it depend on the calendar date - that, too, is ephemeral. You may find that joy follows you throughout the year, lifting you up during the darkest times in your life.

Merry Christmas everyone, and a happy New Year.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

A dream of economic realities

Last night I had a dream about a restaurant. It was located right between a high-class neighborhood and a lower-class neighborhood, and had an entrance on each side of the building. Those entering from the high-class side would find well-dressed waiters, fancy tables, menus with French words in them, and (of course) very high prices. In addition, the portions were tiny, the food tasted bad, and the waiters treated you like dirt. However, those entering on the lower-class side would find a casual diner with friendly staff, generous portions of good food, and (of course) much lower prices. The high-class diners knew nothing about the low-class restaurant - it was kept secret from them.

In my dream, a diner from the high-class side found out about the conspiracy and demanded to be allowed into the other part of the restaurant. After meeting much resistance, he finally got a table and was waited on by the manager of the restaurant herself. She proceeded to make his experience there a living hell - by making him jump through hoops to make his order, laughing in his face when he made special requests, and serving him burned, badly-seasoned food. The reason? The upper class diners were not treated badly because they were on the wrong side of the restaurant, or even because they had money. It was because they treated people of lower status like inferior beings, and got exactly the treatment they deserved.

While dining on the high-class side they were paying for the knowledge that they could afford something other people couldn't, even if the quality of what they were paying for wasn't worth the price. It wasn't about having a superior dining experience: it was about appearances and flaunting power. In my experience, that is the motive behind many of the expensive products and services that people buy or covet in our society, believing them to be better simply because they cost a lot.

One last lesson from my dream last night: as different as the two versions of this restaurant were, there was one thing they both had in common. They shared a bathroom. I still haven't figured out if that means anything, but I'm willing to bet there's something very clever in that.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Falling Out of Love

For those who don't know, I've got a new job that fortunately allows me some time to read and write. I'll say more about this later, but first, a passage I wrote today in between busy moments:


“Separate but equal” is a practical impossibility. So to achieve equality, women must fall out of love with womanhood. There must be no “women's mysteries,” no goddesses of feminine realms that punish any male onlooker for daring to intrude. If men are ignorant of women's lives, of our daily hardships and rites of passage, it is because we veil ourselve in decorum and propriety. We shut others out of our inner lives, assuming they will not understand, will not sympathize, will not be interested.

Men of this age, raised to see their sisters as equals in law and in fact, do not regard us with the curious mixture of fear and disdain that their fathers and grandfathers felt when they spoke of the mysterious, dangerous, chaotic world that was the life and mind of a woman. They could not empathize with women because they saw us as wholly different from themselves, with baffling biological functions, irrational and unpredictable behavior, and a power over them that they felt they could not control. We now know that the differences between us come more from culture than anything else, and our culture is changing.

There is no more reason to hide behind petticoats and facepaint and secrets and segregation, and whispering huddles in school hallways that turn quiet the moment a boy walks by. No reason to hide behind closed doors while feeding our babies or discussing our bodies. A woman can go to work in slacks and flat shoes and bare face and short, unstyled hair. She can go on a date in jeans and sneakers and unshaven legs. She can belch, eat heartily, and fully enjoy sports and crass jokes and carnal pleasures – but only if she lets go of that old notion, that cultural shackle, that is the feminine mystique. When she does, when she fully pronounces her personhood as much as her womanhood, she will find the men in her life appreciative of her honesty, her friendship, and the opportunity to let go of some of the pressures on them to be paragons of manhood.

But falling out of love with womanhood does not require being unfeminine. We needn't fear the loss of our intuitions, our subtleties of thought and feeling, our grace and beauty and appreciation of same. We needn't fear for our children's mothers or the state of our homes and kitchens. For as we fall our of love with womanhood, men are graduall falling out of love with manhood. They find no insult in what was once known as women's work. They are not threatened by their own need for gentleness, for empathy, for beauty, and for family. We are slowly reaching an age when femininity and masculinity are not categories we are born to, but a spectrum of choices that all are free to explore.

Womanood can no longer be a mystery. What can be a mystery is the individual spirit, the capacity of each person to invent her identity as a woman, as a man, and as something the world has never seen before. What can be a mystery is our innermost selves, male and female, free to share or to keep secret our dreams and thoughts, our joy and anguish. To achieve equality, must realize there is no womanhood. There is no manhood. There are – we are – people, as simple and as complicated as that.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

How to explain things to children

A woman at a shopping mall approached a nursing mother nearby and complained, saying "I don't know how to explain to my 5-year-old what you're doing." The same argument has been used against gay marriage (or even gays holding hands in public), a more controversial subject than public nursing but becoming more and more acceptable in the eyes of most Americans. And, more controversial still, it's been used to protest against a couple walking down the sidewalk with one partner holding the other on a leash - expressing a lifestyle that few understand who have not chosen it for themselves. It's never easy to explain to a young child something that you yourself do not understand fully, or which arouses strong feelings of disgust, moral indignation or offense. Should we prohibit or discourage such behavior in areas where strangers' children might see, in order to prevent the awkward or difficult conversations that it might bring up?

No, of course not.

First of all, as many parents should already know or will very quickly learn, a large part of the job of parenting is to explain difficult things. Children learn most of what they know of the world from their parents, whether consciously through intentional direction and instruction or unconsciously through examples set in the parents' own behavior. So, naturally, every parent must eventually face hard-to-answer questions, and explain why the family next door doesn't go to the same church as us, what is going to happen to the beloved family cat when it's taken to the vet to be put down, why the people we saw on the TV news are so intent on hurting each other, and what Daddy and Mommy did to bring a child into the family. Sometimes, especially if the child is very young, these explanations may require some gloss or a fanciful exaggeration to avoid bringing up details that are truly inappropriate, but at least the kid can know that what's happening is normal and natural - or, alternatively, that it's wrong and shouldn't be imitated, depending on which values you want to pass on. Don't get me wrong, some of these topics are real stumpers even for grown-ups. But nobody is trying to restructure society or limit others' freedoms just for the purpose of keeping kids from asking tough questions.

If anything, the complaint that "I don't know how to explain that to my child" is not an indictment of the behavior the child is asking about, but of the parent's ability to confidently raise their child in a complicated, confusing, and very diverse world.

But what if the parent really is at a loss for explaining something, and simply cannot begin to instruct their child on the meaning of what they're witnessing and what should be done about it? Don't worry. Children, as parents may remember from their own pasts, are very smart. Even if they aren't told explicitly, kids pick up on a lot. A friend of mine once worried that his half-sister, then four years old, wouldn't understand how they could be siblings although they had different dads. He needn't have worried; nontraditional families are only strange to those who have not seen them before. Growing up in one herself, my friend's sister may learn that other families are different - but that will not change her understanding of who her brother is to her.

Although neither of my parents have ever divorced, I grew up in a nontraditional family in a couple of different ways. One is that my father chose to take my mother's name when they got married. It was my understanding, as a child, that married couples choose whichever name they like best. And so, when another kid and I were playing with toy animals and wanted two of them to get married, one of the first things I asked was which name they would keep. Did this result in an uncomfortable silence as the other kid, raised by more traditional parents, tried to understand why I would say such a thing? No. Without missing a beat, she suggested a solution and our play went on uninterrupted. I don't know whether she later asked her parents whether it's really always the wife who changes her name, but I imagine it wasn't a terribly difficult question to answer if she did.

In fact, not only do children learn quickly and easily, but they will most likely understand many things that their own parents never will. Just as my generation, who grew up using computers and cell phones and the internet, tends to be more proficient in using those technologies than our parents and grandparents, so does each generation become accustomed to different social norms as our society becomes more diverse, more open, and more focused on individual freedoms and choices. That's not to say that children are smarter or better than their parents - after all, kids who learned to "type" with their thumbs on a tiny cell phone keypad may never learn to use a traditional keyboard, and since calculators became a common school supply few children have learned to use a sliderule (let alone an abacus).

And there are certain lessons that we should be glad our children won't learn. Today, a 16-year-old boy can't run a household, but his chances of being orphaned at that age are much less now then they were a few generations ago, and if he was then he'd be taken care of by a caring relative or a foster family, so thankfully he will never have to learn how. Children of color in America will never again have to ask their parents why there aren't any white children in their school, or why they can't use the nicer water fountains. I think these changes part and parcel of a more progressive society where some conservative parents may have to face the prospect of explaining the family down the street with two dads.

My final reason for this tirade will possibly be the most difficult for many parents to hear. Ultimately, no matter how much instruction you impart, or how perfectly you set your example, or how hard you try to instill your values, you will never be in complete control of your children. My very liberal agnostic mother could not stop me from dating a conservative Christian, and my abrasively atheist father couldn't keep me from experimenting with religions the way some teenagers experiment with substances. My hard-line Catholic aunt may have raised her children to be Catholic themselves, but couldn't stop them from eventually questioning many of her more conservative beliefs. Eventually, every parent much reach a point when they admit they've done all they can do, and hope that they've at least kept their children from living too atrociously. And, parents, admit it: you didn't take your own upbringing hook line and sinker either. And you turned out alright, didn't you?

Now prove it, and don't be such a pussy about your own parenting duties.

Friday, May 07, 2010

Confessions of a Clifton Boulevard Drain-Raker

At about eleven fifteen tonight I was driving home from having spent the evening with several friends. During our gathering a storm broke out, complete with hail, a momentary power failure, and three of our number on a walk outside without their phones. These three did return safe after the worst of the storm was over, having taken shelter with some friendly nuns, and as I drove home in a light drizzle I thought the night's adventures were over.

That was when I noticed that a new river had formed between me and home, flooding more than one lane of the street and I couldn't tell how deep. When I had steeled myself to cross the stream, there was a moment when I envisioned my car swept away and unable to get traction, but then I was across and a moment later was parked and walking inside. My mother greeted me at the door and mentioned that she had been clearing debris from the storm drains to lessen the flooding, but apparently more debris had collected since then and the rain was still falling. I put on hold my plans to change my clothes and settle in to bed, and instead went back outside, rake in hand, to clear the drains again.

I spent the next half hour wading from drain to drain for three blocks, putting my arm elbow-deep into the opaque water to clear leaves, branches, and other debris that had washed down the gutter from downed trees to the west of us. A neighbor joined in, and we traded sympathy and encouragement while coordinating our efforts. Twice the streetlights flickered or went dark above our heads while we blindly groped in the rushing water. Cars continued speeding down the road, but one man in a pickup truck managed to slow down long enough to shout "You're fucking crazy!"

When I could no longer see any massive flooding, I made my way back, re-clearing the drains I saw on the way that had already accumulated more leaves and sticks. But I was seeing and hearing sirens, and wanted to change out of my pants that were soaked to the knee. I could have done more.

Tuesday, May 04, 2010

Voyage to Earth

Starting four weeks from now on June 1st, I'll be starting a science fiction serial; one chapter a week will be posted on http://voyagetoearth.blogspot.com/ on Tuesdays.

This story will take place a few hundred years in the future when humans have colonized some of the solar system and made some new friends in the universe. Voyage to Earth chronicles the journey of an interplanetary bus as it transports two crewmembers, an astronomer on the brink of insanity, and a young alien diplomat on a classified mission to Earth. Meanwhile, an interplanetary summit is stalled out as some delegates have become mysteriously silent, and one of the human colonies on Mars is entertaining revolt.

I hope you'll come read the first chapter on June 1st, and if you like what you see then I hope you'll come back each Tuesday for more.

A rough timeline

Two months ago I interviewed for a job I wanted but didn't think I was qualified for. Two weeks after that, I found out my new employer thought differently, and four years of unemployment ended.

28 days ago I went to my friend Jasen's place to watch Mythbusters. We sat on opposite ends of his couch and contemplated the gap between us, but didn't close it. The following Wednesday I came back, and the Sunday after that we watched the new miniseries "Into the Universe with Stephen Hawking." On that day the gap closed, and six months of solitude ended.

One week ago I fulfilled a promise I made to myself five years ago and saw Faith and the Muse perform live.

Four days ago I joined forces with some close friends and some new acquaintances to celebrate all that is possible, and all that we wish to make possible. I also bought a pair of sandals that I had been searching three years for.

Tomorrow, according to what I've heard, my uncle leaves his wife and children to move in with another woman. He remains my favorite uncle, and his wife, my favorite aunt.

Nine days from now my third godchild is due to be born, but it could be sooner.

Four weeks from now I begin posting a chapter a day of my science fiction novel (more on this later).

Two months and six days from now, two of my best friends are getting married to each other, and more than three years of planning will come to fruition.

***

Life is governed, it seems, by the principle of punctuated equilibrium. Change is slow and arduous but inevitable; our solitudes and our personal famines last excruciatingly long and then, in a moment so fast and unexpected it hardly reaches our notice sometimes, they're gone in the flood of new direction. Sometimes it seems you need only close your eyes for a moment and you wake up in another life, an unfamiliar one, one you never expected and never hoped for oftentimes only because you didn't know it was possible. And then, sometimes before we even notice that it's happening, we habituate to it and begin to think that it was always this way, just as a river that bends so slowly that it appears to be straight until viewed from above.

Where is the river going?

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

The effects of having a job

As I keep forgetting to inform whatever segment of the population who reads this blog but not my twitter, and also that I don't ever see in person or email or chat with, my job search is at an end (at least until Autumn). I'm now a seasonal employee at the Cleveland Metroparks, member of the invasive plant strike team, which means I get to spend my days in the woods killing weeds. (I would be doing that right now, except it's raining. Outdoor work is like that sometimes.) Midway through my third week, I still believe that I have the best job ever.

Not having had a regular job before, I'm noticing some interesting effects. One is that the blog entry I had intended to write yesterday never got written, because I came up with the idea right before leaving for work and by the end of the day was too tired to write more than a few paragraphs. By the time I started working on it today, I had lost interest in what I was going to say, which is understandable because it wasn't terribly important anyway. So I deleted what I had written and started writing about my job instead.

This is fascinating to me, because for the first time I'm having to make an effort to manage my time. Trying to predict when I will be hungry, when I will be tired, when I will be home, when I will be able to put gas in the car - all this was much less complicated when my schedule consisted of "eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're tired, and just try to get out of the house at least once a day so you don't go crazy." It's an adjustment I'm glad to make, since with it comes the joy of occupying my time with something worthwhile, getting plenty of exercise in the course of my regular workday, and meeting new people who share some of my values and interests. All this and I get paid too.

The jury's still out on how much this will affect my various writing projects, but so far they're still progressing, just a bit more slowly. I'll tentatively say that my sci-fi novel, Voyage to Earth, is going to start going online in late May/early June, updating with one chapter a week, probably Tuesdays. In the meantime I might be working on some short stories, which I may post here.

More later on subjects such as poetry, philosophy, art, and alien invasions. Peace out y'all.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

On confidence and planning for the unexpected

Many developments have taken place since last April, but overall the situation is largely unchanged. As usual, I've been searching for a job and have a few good prospects on the horizon (including an interview next week). I'm starting to ramp up my efforts to get poetry published, and working on a couple of different fiction projects.

One fiction project is a sci-fi novel, first in a possible series. People have expressed an interest in reading the story in installments, and so I am going to attempt to post one chapter a week starting in a month or two. If you're interested in interspecies diplomacy, the Kuiper belt, Martian politics, and the personal lives of long-distance bus drivers, then be sure to keep an eye out for that (and I'll be sure to let everyone know as soon as I've thought of a title).

I'm also entertaining the notion of self-publishing a poetry collection; if so, I will be using this blog and my twitter account (username: pickletomboy) to promote it and report any developments.