THURSDAY BIO (cont.)
(Previous chapters here)

The
children were better at falling than I. They adapted to their new
school, for the first time the same one. Josh took to athletics,
finding that besides the joy of it, the issue of his skin color was
solved by his success. He was strong and big and never unenlisted in
whatever season’s sport it was. And they had their grandparents who
were both hands on, especially my mother. After school, when I was
still at work, they had their flesh and blood to come home to.

I fell for a young assistant professor in my department who was
newly separated and heading for divorce. He was irresistible – tall,
gorgeous, and bright as a steel trap. Looking back, I think he was
really just confidence building, dallying, never moving toward a
permanent connection. I pressed up against his respectability and
backburnered thoughts of a future like the one I might have had long
ago with that first doomed teenaged marriage, or like my mother once
thought she would have where everything would look and feel exactly
right. Trying to keep our relationship low profile, we snuck into each
other’s lives like culprits. (to be continued next post)

WEDNESDAY BIO

Chapter 10
Return (cont.)
(rest of chapters here)

My
courses that last California spring included Abnormal Psychology,
Psychology Statistics, Genetics, and Forensic Science (no memory of
what my long-term goal was). In my old papers, there is a letter from a
teacher telling me that had I just taken his final, he wouldn’t have
had to give me an F and that he had enjoyed reading my last paper. I
remember little of those classes, but somewhere in the month before the
term ended I flung myself to the mat, packed us up, and allowed my dad
to fly down from Oregon and drive us in our old white Chevy Impala,
packed to the gills with our worldly goods and two cats, back to
Oregon. By May, the kids were plunked into the Corvallis school system
and we were lodging with my parents. By the time I turned 36, I had
gotten a job as Secretary to the Department of Anthropology at Oregon
State University. On the very day of my birthday, the last Apollo
flight splashed down after exchanging gifts with the Soviet Cosmonauts
somewhere out in space, but news of the world at large was lost on me.

Butch said to Sundance who refused to jump from the cliff because he
couldn’t swim, “Why you crazy, the fall will probably kill you.”   I felt
like I was always falling now and not gracefully. My parents had a
decent ranch style three-bedroom home on a nice suburban street in this
99.9% white small college town and their lives were in order. They did
politics and their garden and their friends and paid their bills, and
we took up their space with our new lives. I felt a slight boost about
a new job and new scenery, new clothes, new routine but kept on
drinking in my back room, hiding my bottles under the bed and taking
them out when empty to leave along a curb somewhere in the dark. (to be
continued next post)

SUNDAY BIO

It was October 2005 when I last posted another
chapter of my life story, which was the original reason I joined Xanga
- to get this tale up and out of me and done with (because I want to
leave something behind for some relative down the road somewhere, and
because I want to keep being creative, and because it helps me ground
myself here at the last part of my life). So for those who weren’t
around for the earlier chapters, see: here. And now for

CHAPTER TEN
Return

The
best mazes are those with complicated, drawn out dead ends where the
imagination must fetch up, bang into walls, and turn back towards the
right way out. So it was in the summer and fall of 1974, as I careened
through two more quarters at the College of Marin, that my bruised mind
full of antidepressants and alcohol conjured up the idea that I could
go back to Real University right across the Bay.

I wrote a paper
to apply for a scholarship for one term at U.C. Berkeley – something
about “black and blue,” having to do with the civil rights movement
from my perspective as the white mother of a biracial child. It was
good enough for them to grant my wish, and by December we had renested
in a tiny second-floor apartment in the Berkeley flats six blocks from
campus. In 1968, the City of Berkeley school board had created the
nation’s first non-court-ordered busing plan for desegregating the
schools and it stayed in effect for 25 years. This meant that Jane and
Josh boarded buses each day to separate schools. In a burst of hope,
all three of us started in new classrooms but our brave beginning
faltered almost from day one. (to be continued next post)

Truthout 2007: Freedom and Democracy Awards

FRIDAY FIVE

1. How do you feel about teeter-totters?
I
must say I never think of teeter-totters unless I’m at the park and see
one. I don’t actually have a very good feeling about them. Too
unpredictable and too hard to sit on one end as an adult with a small
child at the other end. Kind of like an ostrich doing knee bends.
2. What is something you otter get done this weekend?
Mow my lawn – unbelievable how fast it starts to grow instantly at the
first sign of spring. The plot is to get my 15-year-old grandson over
here on Sunday and start him on a regimen of doing my yardwork all
summer this year. This will give me a good chance to spend time and see
what’s going on in his mysterious teenage brain.
3. Who’s someone who seemed normal when you first met but got odder and odder as you got to know him or her? Why that would be me – I’ve become so odd as I’ve gotten to know myself that I think I might just excommunicate myself.
4. Thinking of your mother: What’s something that always awed her?
My mother was ecstatic when feminism came along. She was already in
mid-life, but then she began to keep records of all the jobs she did
around the house and what she should be paid for them. She never did
get paid, but she pointed it out a lot. She admired all political
activists but especially of the “we are women hear us roar” variety.
5. What is your favorite small, furry, non-domesticated animal?
Probably the cub size of just about anything – once they get bigger
they bite bigger and acquire rabies and other delights. A mole dug its
way straight through my front yard last month, leaving large piles of
dirt in a defiant row. I’m told they never come above ground but eat
worms as they go along. They probably rank at the bottom of my small
furry favorite list.

SATURDAY PHOTO
(See others here)

Protest
Tim Page

Tim
Page is 63 now and lives in Brisbane, Australia where he’s an Adjunct
Professor of Photojournalism at Griffith University, but during the
Vietnam War he became famous for his war photography. Born in Britain,
he left at 18 in 1962 to drive across Europe, Pakistan, India, Burma,
Thailand and Laos. In Laos he began work as a press photographer and
landed on the Saigon bureau of UPI. During the war in Vietnam and
Cambodia, he was wounded in action three times. At 25 he was badly
wounded by a
big piece of shrapnel to his head and spent a year recovering in the
U.S. There he got involved in the peace movement and was a caregiver
for amputees including Ron Kovic. In the ’70′s he worked for Rolling
Stone, and during that time he learned of the capture of his best
friend, Sean Flynn (son of actor Errol Flynn) who was also a war
photographer (click here.)
He searched for Flynn until 1990 when his apparent grave was found in
Cambodia. All of this led him to found the Indochina Media Memorial
Foundation and the book Requiem with photographs taken by all the
photographers and journalists killed during those wars. He doesn’t
cover wars anymore, but sadly others do. Some things never change. For
more about him click here.

TUESDAY POLITICS

I
enjoy the Academy Awards and all the other awards shows each year.
Usually, I turn off the TV and fall asleep before they’re over, but
Sunday night I watched to the end. As for the winners, Forest Whitaker
was one of two black actors taking top spots, thereby giving them 50%
of the wins. That’s progress. Surprisingly, Eddie Murphy did not make
it 75%. Helen Mirren and Alan Arkin represented us older folks. And of
course there was our beloved Ellen DeGeneres, posting up for gay
Americans. Quite a diverse group. Then we had Al Gore winning for his
very important film, An Inconvenient Truth to much applause. Ellen
threw in a comment about the stolen election seven years ago, but you
know what I just realized was missing? Not a single mention by anyone
at the podium of the Iraq War or what and who got us there. Not one. As
for Best Picture, while I loved Little Miss Sunshine and The Departed
and The Queen (didn’t see Letters from Iwo Jima), I recently watched
Babel on DVD and felt it had the most relevant message that would
relate to the current world situation. It was complex and a little
convoluted, like Crash and Traffic in former years, but its point (in
my mind) was that so much horror on this planet occurs because of
simple misunderstandings in communication, jumps to conclusions based
on too little evidence that wind up being wars that kills thousands.
This coming Friday, the much maligned Cindy Sheehan will be speaking
against the war once again before a Senate panel and apparently they
haven’t been able to find a single person to oppose her and speak for
the war. We probably won’t get to see it, this mother of one soldier
who won’t give up and doesn’t have the appeal to the media of Anna
Nicole Smith, but billions of us sure did get to see those Academy
Awards. Wonder how many more will die in Iraq before they come around
again next year. What an opportunity missed.

SUNDAY GOOD NEWS

It’s
another grey damp day in Portland, Oregon and don’t get me wrong I’m
not complaining about the weather (having been in frequent touch with a
friend in Rochester, New York who hasn’t seen anything but snow in
weeks). But between the grey and the news of Britney’s newly bald head,
and the failure to pass the resolution in the Senate against the war
that wasn’t even binding, and the effect of watching Spike Lee’s
beautiful film on Katrina the past few days on DVD, and just the
general crapitude of the season of late winter, I went looking for
something far out, unique, and magical while humming hare krishna hare
krishna krishna krishna hare hare. And I found the Lord God Bird (the
holy grail of rare birds). Also known as the ivory-billed woodpecker,
the last time it was spotted for sure was in 1944, but 60 years later
in 2004 a “possible” sighting in Arkansas captured on video with the
drumming sounds the bird makes got birdwatchers all in a dither again.
So this month they came up with the world’s first robotic twitcher.
This is a pair of smart video cameras that point at the sky in the
region where the sighting occurred. These have software that activates
when a bird flies over and filters out false positives like falling
leaves. They’re even programmed to how fast the bird flies (20-40 mph).
This will save humans having to sit in the bayous during mosquito and
snake season or freeze their butts (if not die from boredom) during the
cold Arkansas winter. And don’t ask me why it’s called a “twitcher” -
I’m no robot expert. If they nail it down on camera, the news will
probably be beat out by Anna Nicole Smith, but I’m going to keep my ear
to the ground. I sure do need a shot of magic.

FRIDAY FIVE

Appetizer – Have you been sick yet this winter? If so, what did you come down with?
I’ve
been super lucky this winter considering all the stress of the past
year. Once or twice I’ve had those little whispers of sore throat or
cough or runny nose and immediately quaffed a Zicam (my wonder drug
which actually amounts to zinc – known for its immune system
properties). I carry a little package of them in my purse at all times
because they work best at that first moment. A nurse’s aid at my old
job told me about them and it’s the melt in your mouth lozenge type I
like best. One every 3 hours. This winter one has been enough every
time. Of course, I also take a tonload of vitamins and supplements
every day.
Soup – What colors dominate your closet?
Solid
colors, mostly dark – black, brown, blue, green, maroon. I gave up on
girly-girly fluffy type clothes years ago. Plus I now wear almost
entirely cotton, nothing that has to be dry cleaned, and nothing so
tight it’s stuck to my skin. Comfort is god and god is good.
Salad – How would you describe your personal “comfort zone”?
My
family were not huggers. My parents didn’t even hug each other much. My
mother turned into a really hands-on grandmother when my children came
along, but I don’t remember lots of hugging even then. Then in my
hippie years there was more touchy-feely type interaction, and once I
hit 12-step programs it became practically mandatory. I have a woman
friend who not only hugs but kisses you on the cheek. Now that’s way
over my boundaries. And yet, if I had a live-in soulmate I’d want the
comfort of easy physical contact. I do believe if humans don’t get
enough of that kind of love they wither and wilt inside.
Main Course – On which reality show would you really like to be a contestant?
Zero
zip none. Not an exhibitionist in my wildest dreams. Occasionally watch
a few minutes of the various singing and dancing extravaganzas but I’d
much rather watch a good serial killer movie.
Dessert – Which holiday would you consider to be your favorite?
New
Year’s Day – no hustle and bustle and overspending and major
housecleaning or cooking, etc. Cleaning of spirit, clearing of
emotional decks. Too bad it won’t come again for almost a year.

Today I am grateful for: Small blessings
Guess the Movie: “You’ll never be a first class human being or a
first class woman until you’ve learned to have some regard for human
frailty.”  Answer:  The Philadelphia Story, 1940.  Winner:  titus_bigglesworth.

TUESDAY POLITICS

Blah
blah blah. I have to confess I’ve been in a grumpy mood since about 5
minutes after the elections were over and the celebratants began to
behave in the business as usual manner. I keep flipping through the
cable news channels looking for actual news, not endless discussion.
We’ve had that for how many years now? I did happen to catch a few
moments of Jane Fonda speaking for the first time in 34 years at a
rally this past weekend in Washington, with the familiar contingent
from Hollywood behind her waiting their turn (Sarandon, Robbins, Penn,
etc.). And of course the next day heard the usual dissing of anything
“they” might have to say by the conservative newsfolks. So according to
this article
in the New York Times today the Senate Judiciary Committee is growing
increasingly pissed and a couple of proposals will hit the Senate floor
next week. For one, Russell Feingold, ever reliable, will introduce a
resolution ending all financing for deployment in Iraq after six months
and withdrawal of all forces. And apparently there is a precedent with
the Vietnam War of Congress cutting off financing to end it, and
various legal experts were present to say that can be done today. And
over this is the shadow of Iran and the increasing likelihood that this
is where Bush intends to go next with his killing machine. I see
individual citizens (like the Iraq Veterans Against the War) speaking
out clearly and loudly and repeatedly for immediate withdrawal, I see a
few individual politicians speaking out a few rungs down in decibel and
caution, and as for the rest of All of Them in Both Parties, it’s
pretty much blah blah blah.

Guess the Movie: “Don’t ever hit your mother with a shovel. It will leave a dull impression on her mind.”  Answer:  Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  Winner:  eneventure.

MONDAY READING

Prairyerth (a deep map)
by Wlliam Least Heat-Moon

I’ve
been reading this amazing book (and will probably still be reading it
weeks from now since it’s over 600 pages long and won’t regret a minute
of it). It’s like an epic geographic geologic poem written by a bird
with a very sharp eye for detail flying over one Kansas County – Chase
County – and landing here and there to peck the earth and explore every
tid and bit of detail – animal, vegetable, mineral or otherwise. I took
a geology class in college once. It’s the only college paper I still
have. It was one of those entertain myself courses that had nothing to
do with my major. They assigned each of us a parcel of land in
Washington state to describe – its people history, its landforms and
geology, its climate, its water resources, its soil, and its natural
vegetation. I got an A on that paper and I loved the class. Now I love
this idea of taking one county apart quadrant by quadrant. The chapter
I happen to be reading now is called Outside the Z Bar. The Z Bar was
the ranch of a cattle baron of the 19th century who built his home out
of native limestone. Also called Spring Hill Ranch, it was 7000 acres
along a creek. Twelve years later, he sold the ranch and moved away and
25 years after that he returned to Kansas to die. In 1997 it became a
historic landmark. Here is a short description from the book:

The
ranch: old highway 13 passed thirty or forty feet closer to the lowest
terrace than does the newer and straightened and renumbered route 177,
but both highways split the small valley, really not much more than a
long and broad hollow. The roads approach Spring Hill laterally, when
the ranch layout calls for a long, frontal entrance, one that would let
the place rise on its levels in the eye as does its wealth in the
imagination. The terraces are long and narrow and parallel to Fox Creek
running beyond the east line of trees; the wall of each terrace is of
cut stone, and atop the lowest is a wrought-iron fence, only knee-high
to mark out the estate but not block the traveler’s view, and on the
highest terrace is a circular stone fountain once served by the spring
but now filled with soil. The home, built by some of the men who worked
on the courthouse, seems to be a descendant, with its Second Empire
Parisian urbanity and its red, standing-seam mansard roof articulated
by dormers.

The description continues in fine detail but you can see a wonderful tour here
to flesh it out for now. The author is of English-Irish-Osage
background. His real name is William Trogdon but he created his pen
name from a quote by his father: “I call myself heat moon, your elder
brother is little heat moon. You, coming last, therefore you are
least.” He lives in Columbia, Missouri and is basically a travel
writer. One of our own xangan travel writers thenarrator recommended it to me, and I recommend it to you. Fabulous.

Guess the Movie: “Take her far into the forest. Find some secluded glade where she can pick wildflowers.”  Answer:  Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937.  Winner:  thenarrator.