Gina Harris's Blog, page 83
January 25, 2019
Concert Review: Cedars & Crows
In keeping with a sequence of musical shows with a greater than average feeling of connection, I have seen Cedars & Crows lead vocalist Chris Margolin before: https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2017/05/concert-review-chris-margolin.html
That was also on a night that felt really special. What was more interesting, however, was the change in demeanor. I remember being impressed with the smooth richness of Margolin's voice solo. With Cedars & Crows he sounded considerably more whiskey-soaked.
Of course, it has been about two years, and the band's various bios do mention whiskey a lot. I suspect, though, that the issue is not actually time and alcohol wreaking havoc on Margolin's vocal cords, but more an adaptation to a harder rocking sound, one that is appropriate to this band.
It should be different. At the other show, Margolin was solo, accompanying himself on guitar. Cedars & Crows rock the blessed configuration of two guitars for lead and rhythm, plus bass and drums. If you can't get louder and harder that way, when can you?
Song titles have an emphasis on the gritty and unsatisfying side of life, but in the tradition of the blues, listening is satisfying. Maybe things aren't so bad as long as there are still guitars and amps around.
Much like Switchblade Romeo, all of the Cedars & Crows members have been in other bands, playing for a while, sometimes together. They know what they are doing, and they put on a good show.
https://www.cedarsandcrows.com/
https://www.facebook.com/cedarsandcrows/
https://cedarsandcrows.bandcamp.com/
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLSM5jRotLtindDVB2sTBXw
https://twitter.com/CedarsandCrows
January 24, 2019
Concert Review: Aaron Baca
Aaron Baca opened the show that I saw at the White Eagle Saloon on January 17th, our shared birthday.
There was not a lot of online information about either Baca himself or the musicians he tends to play with, but he seems to be the only constant.
I liked that night's line-up. Perhaps some of it was the different types of instruments and the playing techniques. Apparently you can blow on a banjo and that does something? I probably should have asked questions.
It was a good set, but also an interesting one in kind of eerie ways. I suddenly imagined I much more eldritch version of "Ghost Riders in the Sky". (That didn't happen; it just would have fit in.)What information is available is listed below:
http://www.aaronbacamusic.com/
https://www.facebook.com/aaronbacamusic/
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpkPncNhOQFbm8gYj20ca1w
https://twitter.com/bacasongs
January 23, 2019
Machismo
There were four books where I kept encountering machismo.
The basic definition is just "strong or aggressive masculine pride". It makes sense to use it here because I have always associated that particular word with the Spanish language. I do not necessarily want to call this toxic masculinity, though it does seem to exist on a spectrum. We will get into that more later, but for right now I just want to focus on the Latin American side of that.
From two novels, one novel that was historical fiction based on true characters, and one history, it came up a lot. The men with this trait - fictional and real - came from Cuba, Panama, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic. There were some traces of how it could developing with younger characters in some of the other works, but it is enough to focus on the men.
I read the history - Queens of Havana - first, and that spanned a longer time period. As the Castro (not that Castro) sisters formed their band, part of that was due to the disruption of education and a lack of job opportunities for women, going from before Batista until well after the Revolution. The way it was most noticeable was in relationships.
It was common over time that married men would date without revealing that key information. A woman might not find out that her boyfriend was married until after he proposed and needed to get a divorce, though there would often then be no divorce nor new marriage.
Under those circumstances, it was very hard to form lasting and satisfying relationships. How could you trust?
As the history, that was probably the most accurate representation: independent women often end up missing out on marriage and children. I felt that loss for them.
In the historical fiction, In the Time of the Butterflies, deeply passionate relationships happened with a lot of sacrifice and trust, but somehow there were still other women. Is it so hard to conceive of a man who never has to cheat, for both men and the authors who write about them? I don't know; it was starting to feel that way.
Although that was something where I felt the loss for women more than for men, I have to believe that there is a loss for men too, both in terms of the depths of intimacy and communication available and in the loss of integrity.
In the last two novels, Memory of Silence and The Book of Unknown Americans, adultery is not a primary issue. Sexuality is still important, but there at least seems to be some fidelity. Gender roles harm the men and women in other ways.
It could be something so simple as refusing to let the wife work, because the man is supposed to be the breadwinner, even though it leaves them poorer and the wife bored and unsatisfied. It could mean going into a dangerous situation without knowledge and ending up dead. Always there is the need to be in control and fix things, despite some fixes being unnecessary and some impossible.
In Memory of Silence that pressure killed both husbands, but it broke them first. It did not matter how much love they'd had for wives, children, and friends, what connections they had to life, or what good they could have been capable of doing. The demands that they felt were on them as men became intractable. Something had to give, and their lives were the only real possibility.
(Also, during the process of their breaking, they were often not great husbands.)
Learning to accept, adapt, and heal is something women have to do, but it ultimately works for our good. It's not like refusing to accept when you are wrong makes you right.
It would have been easy to take the combined influence of those works as an indictment of Latin American masculinity, except that Gloria Anzaldúa had already covered that in Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza. She acknowledged the stereotypes, and then pointed out that they weren't that different from North American demands on masculinity. I had to admit that she was right.
Because of that, as I read each of these books and found the topic recurring, it became a universal theme, and a tragic one.
The basic definition is just "strong or aggressive masculine pride". It makes sense to use it here because I have always associated that particular word with the Spanish language. I do not necessarily want to call this toxic masculinity, though it does seem to exist on a spectrum. We will get into that more later, but for right now I just want to focus on the Latin American side of that.
From two novels, one novel that was historical fiction based on true characters, and one history, it came up a lot. The men with this trait - fictional and real - came from Cuba, Panama, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic. There were some traces of how it could developing with younger characters in some of the other works, but it is enough to focus on the men.
I read the history - Queens of Havana - first, and that spanned a longer time period. As the Castro (not that Castro) sisters formed their band, part of that was due to the disruption of education and a lack of job opportunities for women, going from before Batista until well after the Revolution. The way it was most noticeable was in relationships.
It was common over time that married men would date without revealing that key information. A woman might not find out that her boyfriend was married until after he proposed and needed to get a divorce, though there would often then be no divorce nor new marriage.
Under those circumstances, it was very hard to form lasting and satisfying relationships. How could you trust?
As the history, that was probably the most accurate representation: independent women often end up missing out on marriage and children. I felt that loss for them.
In the historical fiction, In the Time of the Butterflies, deeply passionate relationships happened with a lot of sacrifice and trust, but somehow there were still other women. Is it so hard to conceive of a man who never has to cheat, for both men and the authors who write about them? I don't know; it was starting to feel that way.
Although that was something where I felt the loss for women more than for men, I have to believe that there is a loss for men too, both in terms of the depths of intimacy and communication available and in the loss of integrity.
In the last two novels, Memory of Silence and The Book of Unknown Americans, adultery is not a primary issue. Sexuality is still important, but there at least seems to be some fidelity. Gender roles harm the men and women in other ways.
It could be something so simple as refusing to let the wife work, because the man is supposed to be the breadwinner, even though it leaves them poorer and the wife bored and unsatisfied. It could mean going into a dangerous situation without knowledge and ending up dead. Always there is the need to be in control and fix things, despite some fixes being unnecessary and some impossible.
In Memory of Silence that pressure killed both husbands, but it broke them first. It did not matter how much love they'd had for wives, children, and friends, what connections they had to life, or what good they could have been capable of doing. The demands that they felt were on them as men became intractable. Something had to give, and their lives were the only real possibility.
(Also, during the process of their breaking, they were often not great husbands.)
Learning to accept, adapt, and heal is something women have to do, but it ultimately works for our good. It's not like refusing to accept when you are wrong makes you right.
It would have been easy to take the combined influence of those works as an indictment of Latin American masculinity, except that Gloria Anzaldúa had already covered that in Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza. She acknowledged the stereotypes, and then pointed out that they weren't that different from North American demands on masculinity. I had to admit that she was right.
Because of that, as I read each of these books and found the topic recurring, it became a universal theme, and a tragic one.
The Bossy Gallito and Medio Pollito
One of the picture books from the Viva Cuba! article was The Bossy Gallito. As I was reading, it sounded vaguely familiar.
When I was young, we had a Reader's Digest book of fairy tales that pulled from various sources (possibly condensing them). One of the stories was "The Half-Chick" from Andrew Lang's Green Fairy Book
The half-chick, Medio Pollito, only has one leg and eye, but he is bold and adventurous and wants to meet the king. He sets off on a journey to Madrid. His mother tried to discourage him, but failing that she advises him to be polite and helpful. As water, fire, and wind ask for his assistance, he is neither helpful or polite.
In The Bossy Gallito a rooster is heading to a wedding, but shows poor self-control in not being able to resist some grains of corn in mud, dirtying his wedding finery. He asks the grass for help getting clean but is refused. The rest of the book is him asking various entities to punish his refused requests, going up the line in search of vengeance and coming up empty-clawed.
Add together those two tales and "The Little Red Hen", and it would seem that poultry tales must be about assistance getting requested and refused. I think I could make "Chicken Little" fit into that framework too, but I digress.
Medio Pollito ends up needing help from water, fire, and wind, and finds them to be a bit vindictive. While he does get out of the palace cooking pot, he ends up stuck on a weather vane, sadly overlooking the city.
While the rooster is initially asking for help and getting refused, his bossiness does not seem right. Then by being so vindictive, with all of his other requests being for revenge, he seems like an unsympathetic character. I was expecting there to be some comeuppance.
I was so wrong.
Finally he gets help from the sun, who will gladly punish for his friend (there is a special relationship between roosters and the sun). In the end the rooster gets exactly what he wants, despite being a jerk.
How did this happen?
In a way it is the same, where there is punishment for being unhelpful, but children's stories are often about encouraging behavior. Still, with the rooster as the protagonist, and his ultimate success, this seemed like a strange thing to encourage.
(In that way the story was very unsatisfying, though Lulu Delacre's illustrations of the avian wedding party were gorgeous.)
Based on other reading, I think it came down to machismo.
Tomorrow I want to spend some time on that.
When I was young, we had a Reader's Digest book of fairy tales that pulled from various sources (possibly condensing them). One of the stories was "The Half-Chick" from Andrew Lang's Green Fairy Book
The half-chick, Medio Pollito, only has one leg and eye, but he is bold and adventurous and wants to meet the king. He sets off on a journey to Madrid. His mother tried to discourage him, but failing that she advises him to be polite and helpful. As water, fire, and wind ask for his assistance, he is neither helpful or polite.
In The Bossy Gallito a rooster is heading to a wedding, but shows poor self-control in not being able to resist some grains of corn in mud, dirtying his wedding finery. He asks the grass for help getting clean but is refused. The rest of the book is him asking various entities to punish his refused requests, going up the line in search of vengeance and coming up empty-clawed.
Add together those two tales and "The Little Red Hen", and it would seem that poultry tales must be about assistance getting requested and refused. I think I could make "Chicken Little" fit into that framework too, but I digress.
Medio Pollito ends up needing help from water, fire, and wind, and finds them to be a bit vindictive. While he does get out of the palace cooking pot, he ends up stuck on a weather vane, sadly overlooking the city.
While the rooster is initially asking for help and getting refused, his bossiness does not seem right. Then by being so vindictive, with all of his other requests being for revenge, he seems like an unsympathetic character. I was expecting there to be some comeuppance.
I was so wrong.
Finally he gets help from the sun, who will gladly punish for his friend (there is a special relationship between roosters and the sun). In the end the rooster gets exactly what he wants, despite being a jerk.
How did this happen?
In a way it is the same, where there is punishment for being unhelpful, but children's stories are often about encouraging behavior. Still, with the rooster as the protagonist, and his ultimate success, this seemed like a strange thing to encourage.
(In that way the story was very unsatisfying, though Lulu Delacre's illustrations of the avian wedding party were gorgeous.)
Based on other reading, I think it came down to machismo.
Tomorrow I want to spend some time on that.
January 22, 2019
Found in translation
As I was deciding what to read for National Hispanic Heritage Month 2018, it occurred to me that I ought to read some Sandra Cisneros. In Spanish courses in college I learned a little about her and her influence, but I have really only read some short stories by her. I searched on her name for availability, and titles popped up in both English and Spanish.
It was really Woman hollering creek that got me. That is a short story, but it is in the title for a collection of short stories. In Spanish it came up as El Arroyo de la Llorona.
That's about La Llorona?
The story may not be, but that the title meant it could be changed my perception. I know who La Llorona is. I would be more likely to call her Weeping or Wailing Woman, instead of Hollering Woman, and I feel like the ghostly aspect is significant. Still, I was shocked that I missed that.
That started the idea that maybe I wanted to read multiple works by Cisneros in both Spanish and English. That made it a bigger deal, requiring more time, bumping it to September 2019. I still ended up getting three chances to read the same work in both languages.
The Memory of Silence by Uva de Aragón was not an auspicious beginning. I toyed with whether it was better to read the English or Spanish first, and whether to complete a work first or alternate by chapters. Starting with the preface and first chapter I discovered that I did not like this book enough to read it twice. At all. I still think I learned things from the attempt that will come in handy when I do get to Cisneros.
The most interesting point was probably that the Spanish parts took up fewer pages. Is Spanish more compact than English? However, my other chances to try that this year were poetry, and then the length and volume was the same. To maintain a rhythm, translations were chosen not just for meaning but for pattern. I don't know how much that changes the translation process. I gained a new appreciation for that.
There were two other things that stuck with me, language-wise.
One was from Gloria Anzaldúa's Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza.
That book was fascinating and timely in many ways, and makes a good companion piece with Leslie Marmon Silko's Yellow Woman and a Beauty of Spirit (which I just finished). However, I think every Spanish student and possibly every language student would benefit from reading Chapter 5 - How to Tame a Wild Tongue.
The other was another title, and it was another translated title: Always Rebellious/Cimarroneando: Selected Poems by Georgina Herrera.
"Cimarron" is a common place name, but in this case it refers to African slaves escaped from the Spanish. It is generally thought to come from a Spanish word for "wild" or "untamed" that derives from an older Spanish word for "thicket"
I thought of "Maroons", a term used similarly, and with the a similar etymology. I had always thought it came from "marron", the French word for chestnut that gets used to mean brown.
I guess I had thought the term was more racially based than it was, though applying a word used for cattle that had escaped and gone feral to darker-skinned people might still be pretty racist. Of course, it could be hard to disentangle the relationship between racism and chattel slavery from the language.
Still, once the word was in my head, I kept coming back to the conjugation. Cimarroneando.
I think Herrera made up this word to suit her purpose. Google Translate says it means cramming, but translates cramming as "abarrotar". I'm sticking with my theory.
In Spanish, there can be some blurring between verbs and adjectives. That construction gives an impression of the rebellion being currently happening, and therefore constantly happening, but it also gives an impression of the subject being described as having been permanently transformed. It's not a contradiction; it's just interesting.
(That book was one of my favorites. I ended up recommending Herrera to two other people before I had even finished it.)
I have described myself as a word nerd before, and I do like word games and play, and sometimes enjoy language for the sheer beauty of it. That is all true, but language is much more important for me is as a way of exchanging knowledge and understanding things.
On that level, language remains amazing.
It was really Woman hollering creek that got me. That is a short story, but it is in the title for a collection of short stories. In Spanish it came up as El Arroyo de la Llorona.
That's about La Llorona?
The story may not be, but that the title meant it could be changed my perception. I know who La Llorona is. I would be more likely to call her Weeping or Wailing Woman, instead of Hollering Woman, and I feel like the ghostly aspect is significant. Still, I was shocked that I missed that.
That started the idea that maybe I wanted to read multiple works by Cisneros in both Spanish and English. That made it a bigger deal, requiring more time, bumping it to September 2019. I still ended up getting three chances to read the same work in both languages.
The Memory of Silence by Uva de Aragón was not an auspicious beginning. I toyed with whether it was better to read the English or Spanish first, and whether to complete a work first or alternate by chapters. Starting with the preface and first chapter I discovered that I did not like this book enough to read it twice. At all. I still think I learned things from the attempt that will come in handy when I do get to Cisneros.
The most interesting point was probably that the Spanish parts took up fewer pages. Is Spanish more compact than English? However, my other chances to try that this year were poetry, and then the length and volume was the same. To maintain a rhythm, translations were chosen not just for meaning but for pattern. I don't know how much that changes the translation process. I gained a new appreciation for that.
There were two other things that stuck with me, language-wise.
One was from Gloria Anzaldúa's Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza.
That book was fascinating and timely in many ways, and makes a good companion piece with Leslie Marmon Silko's Yellow Woman and a Beauty of Spirit (which I just finished). However, I think every Spanish student and possibly every language student would benefit from reading Chapter 5 - How to Tame a Wild Tongue.
The other was another title, and it was another translated title: Always Rebellious/Cimarroneando: Selected Poems by Georgina Herrera.
"Cimarron" is a common place name, but in this case it refers to African slaves escaped from the Spanish. It is generally thought to come from a Spanish word for "wild" or "untamed" that derives from an older Spanish word for "thicket"
I thought of "Maroons", a term used similarly, and with the a similar etymology. I had always thought it came from "marron", the French word for chestnut that gets used to mean brown.
I guess I had thought the term was more racially based than it was, though applying a word used for cattle that had escaped and gone feral to darker-skinned people might still be pretty racist. Of course, it could be hard to disentangle the relationship between racism and chattel slavery from the language.
Still, once the word was in my head, I kept coming back to the conjugation. Cimarroneando.
I think Herrera made up this word to suit her purpose. Google Translate says it means cramming, but translates cramming as "abarrotar". I'm sticking with my theory.
In Spanish, there can be some blurring between verbs and adjectives. That construction gives an impression of the rebellion being currently happening, and therefore constantly happening, but it also gives an impression of the subject being described as having been permanently transformed. It's not a contradiction; it's just interesting.
(That book was one of my favorites. I ended up recommending Herrera to two other people before I had even finished it.)
I have described myself as a word nerd before, and I do like word games and play, and sometimes enjoy language for the sheer beauty of it. That is all true, but language is much more important for me is as a way of exchanging knowledge and understanding things.
On that level, language remains amazing.
January 18, 2019
Concert Review: Switchblade Romeo
Since learning that Beasts of Burden artist Benjamin Dewey was in a band, I have wanted to review them, but there hadn't been any good opportunities. Watching Jesse Valenzuela last week, there was a flyer on the table for upcoming shows. That is how I ended up at the White Eagle Saloon two Thursdays in a row, and on my birthday.I am so glad I made it.
The performance was a blast: fun and friendly and filling the venue with sound.
I think there are a few key factors that work in Switchblade Romeo's favor.
First, the band pulls from a wide variety of musical traditions. Dewey himself, on guitar, has previously played bluegrass and folk. Singer Jeremy Barlow and drummer Jason Lusk were in a punk band together. You don't necessarily hear those elements blended into a Switchblade Romeo set, which has a more traditional rock feel. However, every member of the band - rounded out by Lee Dawson on guitar and Gabe Fischer on bass - is skilled and ready to deliver for their part of a great show.
That great show also really appears to be a good time for them. There is an easy camaraderie and interplay within the band. Barlow took time last night to acknowledge which members had written which songs, indicating an equality in who gets to contribute to the overall sound. Some bands really capitalize on unhappiness and stress, but this (despite a seemingly boundless energy) felt relaxed. They are having a fun and they bring the audience along.
One very real reason they were free to so much fun is that each band member is working in the comics industry. That may make them the most Portland band in the area. (You could argue for that making them the most Milwaukie band too.)
In any case, that means music is not their main gig. Therefore I only have one link for them, and I don't know when they are playing next.
However, if you get a chance to see them, go for it. It should be a blast.
https://www.instagram.com/switchbladeromeo/
January 17, 2019
Band Review: You Jump, I Jump
You may remember that in July I reviewed Dustin Phillips, but there was a roundabout process there:
https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2018/07/musician-review-dustin-phillips.html
I had not been sure whether to review his solo project You Jump, I Jump, or The Ataris for whom he drums, and then I realized I could see The Ataris live and review the concert (which I did), but I only saw one song for the other, and so I just kind of reviewed him as a musician who does other things.
Except there were more songs, that I completely missed. Sometimes Bandcamp navigation is not great, and least for me.
I have listened again and I really like what he is doing. Having listened to him more as a drummer previously, suddenly there is a lot of synth. That seems like an opposite end of the music spectrum, but I know three keyboard players who started as drummers, and they are all really good. Perhaps it is natural for some of the best musicians to explore the opposites. That would make sense.
"Blank Space" may be the best example of how Phillips plays with tempo and patterns. My greater appreciation is for the emotion that comes through, and listening to the album Reckless gives the best idea of that. I do really like the texture of the guitar on the title track, and the energy of "Slip Away".
Here is the funny thing: I listened to Reckless before. I reviewed You Jump, I Jump back in 2014.
That review came from being followed by the YJIJ Twitter profile. When Dustin followed me himself four years later, it didn't ring a bell. I was looking at old posts and accidentally found the old review. So this is not my 602nd band reviewed, because he was already reviewed.
That's okay; this year is shaping up to be about reconnecting with old friends. I will still listen to a lot of new bands, but a lot of already seen bands are making their way back to Portland, and I am all for it.
That is part of what makes this so special. In the first review, I was a little jaded by how the Youtube channel had so many covers. That seemed like an odd choice to me (says the person who recently had to examine her thoughts on tribute bands).
I like You Jump, I Jump much better now than I did then. I am sure that some of it is my growth, listening to so many different styles and learning to appreciate new things. Some of it may be personal affection for Phillips after some Twitter exchanges and listening and seeing him live.
There is also his growth. I am listened to many people with Youtube channels full of covers; if that's as far as they go, that's okay, but that doesn't have to be the ending point. Dustin Phillips is a producer, and he has made his own tracks, and he has toured and I have seen him.
I have written before that it has felt like a privilege to have bands invite me to check out their hearts and talents and efforts. This is more. This is watching a continuing journey, that I couldn't predict. Watching Dustin specifically has become my second favorite story in my music blogging.
But that's not as important as that he makes good music.
http://www.dustinphillipsmusic.com/
https://www.facebook.com/youjumpijumpmusic
https://youjumpijump.bandcamp.com/
https://www.youtube.com/user/youjumpijumpofficial
https://twitter.com/YJIJofficial
https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2018/07/musician-review-dustin-phillips.html
I had not been sure whether to review his solo project You Jump, I Jump, or The Ataris for whom he drums, and then I realized I could see The Ataris live and review the concert (which I did), but I only saw one song for the other, and so I just kind of reviewed him as a musician who does other things.
Except there were more songs, that I completely missed. Sometimes Bandcamp navigation is not great, and least for me.
I have listened again and I really like what he is doing. Having listened to him more as a drummer previously, suddenly there is a lot of synth. That seems like an opposite end of the music spectrum, but I know three keyboard players who started as drummers, and they are all really good. Perhaps it is natural for some of the best musicians to explore the opposites. That would make sense.
"Blank Space" may be the best example of how Phillips plays with tempo and patterns. My greater appreciation is for the emotion that comes through, and listening to the album Reckless gives the best idea of that. I do really like the texture of the guitar on the title track, and the energy of "Slip Away".
Here is the funny thing: I listened to Reckless before. I reviewed You Jump, I Jump back in 2014.
That review came from being followed by the YJIJ Twitter profile. When Dustin followed me himself four years later, it didn't ring a bell. I was looking at old posts and accidentally found the old review. So this is not my 602nd band reviewed, because he was already reviewed.
That's okay; this year is shaping up to be about reconnecting with old friends. I will still listen to a lot of new bands, but a lot of already seen bands are making their way back to Portland, and I am all for it.
That is part of what makes this so special. In the first review, I was a little jaded by how the Youtube channel had so many covers. That seemed like an odd choice to me (says the person who recently had to examine her thoughts on tribute bands).
I like You Jump, I Jump much better now than I did then. I am sure that some of it is my growth, listening to so many different styles and learning to appreciate new things. Some of it may be personal affection for Phillips after some Twitter exchanges and listening and seeing him live.
There is also his growth. I am listened to many people with Youtube channels full of covers; if that's as far as they go, that's okay, but that doesn't have to be the ending point. Dustin Phillips is a producer, and he has made his own tracks, and he has toured and I have seen him.
I have written before that it has felt like a privilege to have bands invite me to check out their hearts and talents and efforts. This is more. This is watching a continuing journey, that I couldn't predict. Watching Dustin specifically has become my second favorite story in my music blogging.
But that's not as important as that he makes good music.
http://www.dustinphillipsmusic.com/
https://www.facebook.com/youjumpijumpmusic
https://youjumpijump.bandcamp.com/
https://www.youtube.com/user/youjumpijumpofficial
https://twitter.com/YJIJofficial
Protecting children
There was a scene in one of the books - I think Leaving Glorytown - where the adults are not in agreement about how much information to give the children. They end up being open because a lack of information can be very dangerous, and any attempts to hide things are getting more and more likely to fail.
It reminded me of some different entertainment issues.
One was an editorial from a woman with small children who was complaining about the darkness of children's movies, like Mufasa's death in The Lion King. Her idea of appropriate peril would be a witch threatening to cast a spell so that there were never cupcakes again.
It also reminded me of a forum discussion once marveling at how dark Little House on the Prairie was for a family TV show. You know, like with that illiterate preacher woman trying to turn the townspeople against Mary when she was substitute teaching for them, or when that guy from The Dirty Dozen put on a clown mask and raped Sylvia.
Going a little further down the rabbit hole, I remember people marveling over how My Neighbor Totoro had no villains. It didn't seem like such a big deal to me at first, but that is pretty unusual, and it is special.
Even with no villains, your mother can be sick, and you can miss her a lot, and you can get lost. There is danger there, even without villains.
This world has villains.
So in Cuba there were teachers who might not excuse a child to go to the bathroom until he soiled himself, and grade him down on tests even when he got the answers right, and allow other students to beat him up because his parents were worms who wanted to leave the country instead of joining the party. In Cambodia there were children who were also called names while doing forced labor to the point of exhaustion, losing family members to illness and starvation and execution along the way.
In both countries there was often a lack of food and medicine.
In my country, homelessness happens, and violence and abuse and hunger happen, even to children.
Well, saying these things "happen" misses something, in that there are reasons they happens, and people behind those reasons. It's important to remember that.
Illness also happens, and though less obvious there are often human factors in that. There are some very human factors to the measles currently going around.
Here's the thing: is it more important to work on protecting children from entertainment, or to protect them from violence and lack of necessities?
It seems like a pretty obvious answer, but I think a lot of people find the larger problems intractable, while censorship is very doable. As dishonest as it is to portray a world where these bad things don't happen, many will settle for that if they think those things won't touch their children.
Obviously there is a need to consider the level of information that children are getting, and the manner in which they are getting it. I was scarred at a young age by The Dirty Dozen playing on television (along with several Clint Eastwood movies). My father probably could have been more responsible there.
(Also, I guess I have an issue with Richard Jaeckel.)
One more tangent: there was an article recently about adults missing the point of Mr. Rogers' advice to "look for the helpers". When children see the bad things in the world, one reasonable way of helping them deal with that is pointing out that we don't just let the bad things happen, we do things to make them better. That should be the job of adults.
A focus on the superficial will never work. Helpers need to be grounded in reality. Also, they need care more about that then the appearance. That is better for both adults and children.
It reminded me of some different entertainment issues.
One was an editorial from a woman with small children who was complaining about the darkness of children's movies, like Mufasa's death in The Lion King. Her idea of appropriate peril would be a witch threatening to cast a spell so that there were never cupcakes again.
It also reminded me of a forum discussion once marveling at how dark Little House on the Prairie was for a family TV show. You know, like with that illiterate preacher woman trying to turn the townspeople against Mary when she was substitute teaching for them, or when that guy from The Dirty Dozen put on a clown mask and raped Sylvia.
Going a little further down the rabbit hole, I remember people marveling over how My Neighbor Totoro had no villains. It didn't seem like such a big deal to me at first, but that is pretty unusual, and it is special.
Even with no villains, your mother can be sick, and you can miss her a lot, and you can get lost. There is danger there, even without villains.
This world has villains.
So in Cuba there were teachers who might not excuse a child to go to the bathroom until he soiled himself, and grade him down on tests even when he got the answers right, and allow other students to beat him up because his parents were worms who wanted to leave the country instead of joining the party. In Cambodia there were children who were also called names while doing forced labor to the point of exhaustion, losing family members to illness and starvation and execution along the way.
In both countries there was often a lack of food and medicine.
In my country, homelessness happens, and violence and abuse and hunger happen, even to children.
Well, saying these things "happen" misses something, in that there are reasons they happens, and people behind those reasons. It's important to remember that.
Illness also happens, and though less obvious there are often human factors in that. There are some very human factors to the measles currently going around.
Here's the thing: is it more important to work on protecting children from entertainment, or to protect them from violence and lack of necessities?
It seems like a pretty obvious answer, but I think a lot of people find the larger problems intractable, while censorship is very doable. As dishonest as it is to portray a world where these bad things don't happen, many will settle for that if they think those things won't touch their children.
Obviously there is a need to consider the level of information that children are getting, and the manner in which they are getting it. I was scarred at a young age by The Dirty Dozen playing on television (along with several Clint Eastwood movies). My father probably could have been more responsible there.
(Also, I guess I have an issue with Richard Jaeckel.)
One more tangent: there was an article recently about adults missing the point of Mr. Rogers' advice to "look for the helpers". When children see the bad things in the world, one reasonable way of helping them deal with that is pointing out that we don't just let the bad things happen, we do things to make them better. That should be the job of adults.
A focus on the superficial will never work. Helpers need to be grounded in reality. Also, they need care more about that then the appearance. That is better for both adults and children.
January 16, 2019
Understanding and not understanding
There were four books from the Viva Cuba! article that I have to consider together:
My Havana: Memories of a Cuban Boyhood, by Rosemary Wells
90 Miles to Havana, by Enrique Flores-Galbis
Waiting for Snow in Havana, by Carlos Eire
Leaving Glorytown: One Boy's Struggle Under Castro, by Eduardo F. Calcines
All of them have a young male protagonist who leaves. It was often via the Pedro Pan program where youth came alone, living in youth homes or foster homes with the expectation that parents would be able to come later. That did not always work out.
Usually before leaving there was a lot of abuse, with informers spying and bullies (including teachers) abusing, not to mention a lack of food. When I read those books - especially the books from Eire and Calcines - the anti-Castro hostility of the refugees transplanted to the United States makes sense. They hate him, his death has not changed that, I get it.
(90 Miles to Havana was the most even-handed.)
But then, on another level, I am not sure it makes sense.
The book from my May reading that relates the most is When Broken Glass Floats: Growing Up Under the Khmer Rouge, by Chanrithy Him. Her physical suffering was worse, the name-calling and dehumanization was similar, but there isn't that same bitterness. Having known many refugees from Southeast Asia with similar experiences, I notice that as well. They may not love the Communists, but there doesn't seem to be the same hate.
There are ways in which the Cuban revolution seems to have gone better. It had definite cruelty, corruption, and incompetence, but the medical and educational systems built seem far superior than those of countries who went through similar turmoil. Is it because Russia was a better helper than China? Is it because the country was so much smaller, and perhaps had a better climate? I don't know. Regardless, that does not seem to get much credit on this side of the Straits of Florida. They don't care about the literacy rate.
Economic factors could have played a role, with wealthier people being the most likely to flee and take a leadership role in the States (and write about their experience). However, often the refugees from Southeast Asia were at least somewhat better off financially, if not truly wealthy. The Cuban narrators all explained why they were actually poorer than the other people around them, but that's a thing rich kids do.
Some of it could be gender. One of the other books, The Memory of Silence by Uva de Aragon, has twin sisters separated as their husbands follow different paths. The sister in the States did not have that bitterness, but her husband did. At the same time, her brother-in-law both loved the revolution and was broken by it.
(We will spend some time on masculinity in a different post.)
Maybe it was just that Castro lived so much longer than Ho Chi Minh or the Khmer Rouge (though the communists are still in power in Laos, and that doesn't seem to have embittered Laotian refugees in the same way.)
I am glad I read books about people who stayed as well, and their various experiences. I am glad that I read In the Time of the Butterflies to get the Dominican view of Castro and Guevara as well. It's not even that I can defend Castro, but we lean toward the simplistic view, and that is not helpful.
One strong memory from high school is watching Univision to try and improve my Spanish. Game shows went too fast and frenetic for me, and I got really into one telenovela, Rubi, but the most important thing that I ever watched was probably the news. I remember that the way they talked about the Contras was not the way our news talked about the Contras. Communism - and the US horror of it - had a lot to do with that as well. That has not always made us act wisely.
My Havana: Memories of a Cuban Boyhood, by Rosemary Wells
90 Miles to Havana, by Enrique Flores-Galbis
Waiting for Snow in Havana, by Carlos Eire
Leaving Glorytown: One Boy's Struggle Under Castro, by Eduardo F. Calcines
All of them have a young male protagonist who leaves. It was often via the Pedro Pan program where youth came alone, living in youth homes or foster homes with the expectation that parents would be able to come later. That did not always work out.
Usually before leaving there was a lot of abuse, with informers spying and bullies (including teachers) abusing, not to mention a lack of food. When I read those books - especially the books from Eire and Calcines - the anti-Castro hostility of the refugees transplanted to the United States makes sense. They hate him, his death has not changed that, I get it.
(90 Miles to Havana was the most even-handed.)
But then, on another level, I am not sure it makes sense.
The book from my May reading that relates the most is When Broken Glass Floats: Growing Up Under the Khmer Rouge, by Chanrithy Him. Her physical suffering was worse, the name-calling and dehumanization was similar, but there isn't that same bitterness. Having known many refugees from Southeast Asia with similar experiences, I notice that as well. They may not love the Communists, but there doesn't seem to be the same hate.
There are ways in which the Cuban revolution seems to have gone better. It had definite cruelty, corruption, and incompetence, but the medical and educational systems built seem far superior than those of countries who went through similar turmoil. Is it because Russia was a better helper than China? Is it because the country was so much smaller, and perhaps had a better climate? I don't know. Regardless, that does not seem to get much credit on this side of the Straits of Florida. They don't care about the literacy rate.
Economic factors could have played a role, with wealthier people being the most likely to flee and take a leadership role in the States (and write about their experience). However, often the refugees from Southeast Asia were at least somewhat better off financially, if not truly wealthy. The Cuban narrators all explained why they were actually poorer than the other people around them, but that's a thing rich kids do.
Some of it could be gender. One of the other books, The Memory of Silence by Uva de Aragon, has twin sisters separated as their husbands follow different paths. The sister in the States did not have that bitterness, but her husband did. At the same time, her brother-in-law both loved the revolution and was broken by it.
(We will spend some time on masculinity in a different post.)
Maybe it was just that Castro lived so much longer than Ho Chi Minh or the Khmer Rouge (though the communists are still in power in Laos, and that doesn't seem to have embittered Laotian refugees in the same way.)
I am glad I read books about people who stayed as well, and their various experiences. I am glad that I read In the Time of the Butterflies to get the Dominican view of Castro and Guevara as well. It's not even that I can defend Castro, but we lean toward the simplistic view, and that is not helpful.
One strong memory from high school is watching Univision to try and improve my Spanish. Game shows went too fast and frenetic for me, and I got really into one telenovela, Rubi, but the most important thing that I ever watched was probably the news. I remember that the way they talked about the Contras was not the way our news talked about the Contras. Communism - and the US horror of it - had a lot to do with that as well. That has not always made us act wisely.
January 15, 2019
How my September reading got so far out of hand
I have already written about how my National Hispanic Heritage Month listening did not feel extensive enough, though I ended up with plenty of future options:
https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2018/12/opening-up.html
I will have things to listen to for 2019, but for 2018 I had plenty to read. So much reading.
It was the diverse books spreadsheet. I mean, that wasn't the only issue, but it was the main issue.
As much as I want to go through all of them (at least those intended for children), things do not always align perfectly. The reading months are specific, but many awards for diversity are not. The Pura Belpré awards were the logical starting place for Hispanic heritage, but I had already gone through that list, albeit accidentally:
https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2018/07/childrens-books-pura-belpre-award.html
The next obvious choice was a School Library Journal article from 2016, focusing on Cuba, as the United States and Cuba were working on normalizing relations.
https://www.slj.com/?detailStory=viva-cuba-focus-on
(Having recently read Drum Dream Girl and Lucky Broken Girl probably made me more interested in Cuba.)
Something that I had not thought about was that the embargo also affected the availability of books between the two countries. The SLJ article tried to provide a variety of age levels and fact and fiction, so it ended up suggesting 19 of the 27 books I read. It would have been more, but I had already read Drum Dream Girl and no one had the National Geographic book, though I was okay with that.
That was a lot of books, and also, while a lot of them were for younger readers they were not picture books. There were a lot of YA novels, and some of them were quite lengthy. I started incorporating Inter-Library Loan more, where previously I had only checked out books through the local library system. Things expanded.
It kind of works well that way. One memoir gives one point of view, but reading four from about the same time and place, but with different people, gives a broader picture. Not everything I read was about Cuba, but a lot of it was.
There will be other posts getting into more detail, but I will list out the other eight books here, and why they ended up being read for this "month". (From starting in September, I finished January 13th.)
Making the Mexican Diabetic by Michael Montoya: This was already on my reading list, but one of the papers in Diagnosing Folklore made me want to read it sooner rather than later.
The First Rule of Punk by Celia C Perez: This was on the Pura Belpré awards list, but at the time I was trying to stay committed to picture books. The "punk" reference still make me add it to the list.
Queens of Havana by Alicia Castro: Reading Drum Dream Girl made me want to know more about the full story of the band Anacaona.
The Boys From Little Mexico by Steve Wilson: This came up as a local book, following one season of the high school soccer team in Woodburn.
I also had two novels - In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez and The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez - as well as two books of poetry not including the many books of Margarita Engle from the SLJ article. I don't remember exactly how any of them ended up on my reading list, except for In the Time of the Butterflies possibly coming from Tough Mothers. This makes me think that perhaps I should start making notes when I add a book in Goodreads.
The poetry books were from Georgina Herrera and Gloria Anzaldúa.
As already mentioned, I also watched Searching for Sugarman and The Buena Vista Social Club.
That's why it took so long... plus having not finished a round of gardening reading and then having a narrow window of time for reading this Native American Heritage Month book, and some similar issues.
Anyway, books are good! I like them.
https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2018/12/opening-up.html
I will have things to listen to for 2019, but for 2018 I had plenty to read. So much reading.
It was the diverse books spreadsheet. I mean, that wasn't the only issue, but it was the main issue.
As much as I want to go through all of them (at least those intended for children), things do not always align perfectly. The reading months are specific, but many awards for diversity are not. The Pura Belpré awards were the logical starting place for Hispanic heritage, but I had already gone through that list, albeit accidentally:
https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2018/07/childrens-books-pura-belpre-award.html
The next obvious choice was a School Library Journal article from 2016, focusing on Cuba, as the United States and Cuba were working on normalizing relations.
https://www.slj.com/?detailStory=viva-cuba-focus-on
(Having recently read Drum Dream Girl and Lucky Broken Girl probably made me more interested in Cuba.)
Something that I had not thought about was that the embargo also affected the availability of books between the two countries. The SLJ article tried to provide a variety of age levels and fact and fiction, so it ended up suggesting 19 of the 27 books I read. It would have been more, but I had already read Drum Dream Girl and no one had the National Geographic book, though I was okay with that.
That was a lot of books, and also, while a lot of them were for younger readers they were not picture books. There were a lot of YA novels, and some of them were quite lengthy. I started incorporating Inter-Library Loan more, where previously I had only checked out books through the local library system. Things expanded.
It kind of works well that way. One memoir gives one point of view, but reading four from about the same time and place, but with different people, gives a broader picture. Not everything I read was about Cuba, but a lot of it was.
There will be other posts getting into more detail, but I will list out the other eight books here, and why they ended up being read for this "month". (From starting in September, I finished January 13th.)
Making the Mexican Diabetic by Michael Montoya: This was already on my reading list, but one of the papers in Diagnosing Folklore made me want to read it sooner rather than later.
The First Rule of Punk by Celia C Perez: This was on the Pura Belpré awards list, but at the time I was trying to stay committed to picture books. The "punk" reference still make me add it to the list.
Queens of Havana by Alicia Castro: Reading Drum Dream Girl made me want to know more about the full story of the band Anacaona.
The Boys From Little Mexico by Steve Wilson: This came up as a local book, following one season of the high school soccer team in Woodburn.
I also had two novels - In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez and The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez - as well as two books of poetry not including the many books of Margarita Engle from the SLJ article. I don't remember exactly how any of them ended up on my reading list, except for In the Time of the Butterflies possibly coming from Tough Mothers. This makes me think that perhaps I should start making notes when I add a book in Goodreads.
The poetry books were from Georgina Herrera and Gloria Anzaldúa.
As already mentioned, I also watched Searching for Sugarman and The Buena Vista Social Club.
That's why it took so long... plus having not finished a round of gardening reading and then having a narrow window of time for reading this Native American Heritage Month book, and some similar issues.
Anyway, books are good! I like them.
