Anny Cook's Blog, page 45

Profiling

After my mammogram (have you scheduled yours this year???) the hunk and I shopped at various places before going home. While he ran in at Home Depot, I waited in the car, keeping our frozen food cool. There were a lot of folks shopping at the Home Depot so I entertained myself by trying to guess what they were buying.

Folks of all shapes and sizes came and went. But when a skinny young Asian man strolled by, it occurred to me how guilty I am of my own version of profiling. If I were doing a commercial for Home Depot or Lowes, for instance, I wouldn't have thought to feature an Asian individual. Rather, I would have chosen a beefy, brawny laborer. The Asian gentleman would star in a technology commercial (phones, computers, or medical technology).

Then I considered why that would be so. I am guilty of categorizing people by ethnicity and color. It is an ugly admission BECAUSE until yesterday, I wasn't even aware I was doing it. Worse, it's based on false premises from the very beginning. Why shouldn't the beefy guy be the computer specialist--and the Asian fellow be a craftsman?

I wonder...

The hero in my current work in progress is of Japanese/Apache background for no particular reason except I sought a more interesting character than the the usual white-anglo-saxon-protestant. Then having chosen an interesting background for my hero, I instantly pigeon-holed him in the appropriate ethnic behavior I envisioned for such a man. Why? I'm ashamed to admit it was sheer laziness. A short-cut to character development.

For a while, I've grappled with this story, wondering why I couldn't seem to come to grips with my hero AND my heroine (which I ALSO pigeon-holed).

In my daily life, I've met thousands of people in all walks of life, of all ethnicities and colors and occupations. And apparently, I have learned nothing, blindly accepting my own assumptions about who and what my fellow men and women were.

It's not enough to pick an individual who stands out and acknowledge their value regardless of their color, if we then profile the rest of their fellows. Why do we categorize folks? Until yesterday, if you had asked me my personal opinions on profiling, I would have vociferously denied doing so. And yet... there was that jarring realization that I was wrong.

anny

Password

While on vacation at my daughter's place we were introduced to the wonders of Netflix via the Wii. Behold our joy when we discovered we could watch the two or three shows we've only enjoyed up to now on PBS. Unfortunately, the signal from our local PBS station is frequently scrambled, limiting our viewing time.

After some close questioning, the hunk and I decided we could make it work at home... so last evening we embarked on the adventure of obtaining our own access to Netflix. Now, I'm sure most folks are scratching their heads by now, but you see we are NOT technologically savvy. And I'm sorry, but the terminology doesn't make the experience any easier. No doubt the average user knows exactly what they're supposed to do, but we didn't have a clue...

First of all our Wii controllers were twitchy. You know what I mean. That stupid little hand leaps all over the screen. Just when you think you have it in the right spot and press one of the buttons, it jumps away like it's seen a ghost.

Finally, we downloaded the Netflix app, but when we tried to go to the next step, we were stymied by a demand for a password. After looking high and low for the elusive password--in vain--I called the help number.

The very patient young man on the line walked me through deleting my Netflix and then reinstalling it because (of course) we did it all backwards. Eventually, we were all straightened out. And lo...we had access to our programs. Imagine our glee when we discovered one of them had 80 episodes we've never watched!

Immediately, we agreed we would only watch 'TV' after dinner. Otherwise, we could both see ourselves whiling away our days in front of the boob tube. It's a good thing we don't have cable.

anny

July 4th

When you allow your grandchildren to practice their budding nail tech skills on you, it's no telling what you'll end up with. Witness the hunk's fabulous toenails. His left foot is rather plain with turquoise polish, but by the time she got to the right foot, she was far more varied.

He had plain polish, while my fingers and toes are truly ready to celebrate the fourth with a mix of polka dots and sparkles.

It's hot in New York. Very, very hot. Except for actually cooking the burgers and dogs on the grill, we're hanging out in the AC, enjoying visiting and talking and sharing our news. Hope y'all are having a fabulous day!

anny

It's Her Fault

Women are under attack across the globe. Some live in daily danger in obvious ways. For others, there's a more subtle battle in progress. In both cases, a massive power struggle is taking place.

Whether you are of a religious bent, fervently believing the Genesis account of the beginning of life on this planet--or more inclined to take the scientific road--women have been the 'bad guys' from the dawn of life. Men both fear and revere women because we are necessary for one single event...the birth of the next generation AND this gives us great power.

Already, there is a war against women taking place, both public and private. But if men ever figure out how to produce sons (not daughters) without the benefit of a woman, life for all women on earth will not be worth a plugged nickel. Consider. In the Biblical account, Eve tempts Adam with the fruit (surely an allegory for sex, I believe) and thereafter, all the bad things that happen are blamed on her.

Personally, I think it's a clear illustration of Adam's weakness. He fails the very first test of his morals. And from that point, there's a constant stacking of the deck in his favor. Without being shored up with various laws that were favorable to men, women would obviously be ruling the world.

In the very early religions, men and women ruled equally. Then a powerful patriarchal religion swept the world and the female goddess was suppressed...and disappeared. With that suppression, woman's place in the world changed. Her position was relegated to baby-maker and servant. Religion constantly reinforces her unworthiness and second-class status in society--regardless of country or culture. It isn't about equality or the right to vote or the right to work. (What woman in her right mind wants to work both in the home and outside it?) This is about the deep cultural attitudes that keep men in power. Attitudes so subtle they're nearly impossible to change.

One of the ways this is reinforced is by blaming the woman for rape. "She was dressed provocatively." "She was acting sexy." "She was dancing or singing or...just enjoying herself."

No one mentions the male who commits the crime. Like Adam, he is too weak to control his urges. His fellow males make excuses for him, pointing out the overwhelming power the woman obviously exerted over him. Otherwise, he would normally be better behaved...right? In other words, every man on the planet--given the right provocation--will rape a woman.

Balderdash.

Two young women in Pakistan were dancing in the rain. And for this terrible crime, they were murdered. What crime, you say? The terrible crime of behaving immodestly.

A girl is gang-raped in the U.S.A. When she seeks justice, her reputation is smeared by the press while the young men who committed the crime are excused because 'boys will be boys'.

A law is changed in a Middle Eastern country allowing men to take wives as young as nine years old. No one calls it what it is--perversion and pedophilia.

Are there any so-called 'real' men out there? Yes, of course. They're going about life, doing what they have to do, defending the weak and defenseless, protecting their families, honoring their wives. Unfortunately, the clamor of those others--the ones without honor or morals--is louder and growing in influence. 

Hang Together

Since the explosion of self publishing, large numbers of authors are publishing their older books they've regained rights for. Many are taking the opportunity to revise/refresh/edit the stories prior to putting them back on the market.

While not self-pubbing, I am revising one of my stories before submitting it to a different publisher. The difficulty with revision is making sure the 'new' story hangs together. For every small change you make, you must scour the rest of the story for consistency. The greater the changes, the more opportunities to slip up.

Then you get silly things like eye color changes in the middle of the story. Or even in one case I recall name changes for both the hero and the heroine. It's very disconcerting to be reading along and sudden find the hero's name is Joe instead of Nathan.

In the story I'm working on, I added a new first chapter to explain some things that were kinda murky in the original. Now I need to go remove the later references lest my readers wonder if I'm on drugs. I also changed the background 'world' for the story. Technology, laws, customs all have to be altered to fit the new world.

It will be a better story when I finish. Yes, it will...if I can just get it all to hang together.

anny

Solstice--Summer or Winter

From ancient times various cultures have observed and marked the solstices. Stone circles around the world helped shamans and priests keep track of the sun's journey. For half of the Earth, today is the winter solstice--the shortest day of the year. Here in the north, it's the opposite, the longest day.

This is a day of beginnings and endings. For northerners, this begins the countdown to the darkening days of winter. For the southerners, this is the day winter starts moving toward spring.

Cultures all over the world marked these two days, some with solemn worshipful observations--others with wild joyful rites. Whatever form the celebration might take, the main incentive was to acknowledge a change, a change in time and a change in purpose for the culture or group. A large part of the rites were centered around agriculture.

In the United States, we are no longer a mainly agricultural society so for most, the solstice is just another day with little or no meaning to the general populace. We are also a primarily Christian culture where celebration of what is perceived as a pagan observance is taboo.

I find this sad. The scientific and historical observation of the solstices has nothing to do with religion. If some choose to mark the solstices with formal rites, what has that to do with the rest of the population? I am Baptist by faith and rearing. That doesn't mean I have a problem with the Catholics who celebrate their saints' birthdays or the rites observed by any other religion. All are free to worship as they choose, including those who celebrate the solar path.

In our eagerness to shun other faiths we've tossed out the baby with the bathwater. The summer solstice is an important turning point in our year. It's half-way. It's an opportunity for assessment and recalibration of our personal plans and resolutions. Have we accomplished what we wanted to up to this point? Do we need to focus our efforts more purposefully for the rest of the year?

Our calendar is an artificial construct with arbitrarily chosen names for months and days and varying lengths attached to those months. I find it untidy. Yet, we all must use the same method of counting time in order to navigate in the global culture.

I suspect life was much simpler when we followed the track of the sun.

anny

Gossip Game

When I was young, we played a game called 'Gossip' or 'Telephone'. The larger the group, or course, the more interesting the game. The object of the game was simple. Everyone sat in a big circle. The first child whispered a simple sentence in their neighbor's ear. The neighbor repeated it in his neighbor's ear and so on until the 'secret' made the round of the circle and ended with the last child who would announce it out loud.

Naturally, the end result bore no resemblance to the beginning. It was usually quite garbled. At that time, most families had 'party line' telephones. Gossipy individuals frequently listened in to other folks phone calls. And everyone knew privacy was not only impossible, but quite unlikely. Hence, the name 'telephone' for the game.

I haven't played the game since I was a kid. There's no need as I have the hunk. He can garble a spoken message with the best of them. So far I haven't been able to convince him he needs hearing aids so we muddle along with our own version of 'gossip'. I say something. He replies something totally different. I repeat my original statement. And so on.

Or I just...take care of it myself. Usually, that's faster.

As I age, I admit my hearing is fading a bit if people speak softly, but I usually can figure out what people say from the context. The hunk has no idea of context. In fact, I used this idea in a scene from my book Chrysanthemum.

“Yes? What do you want?” the little old man querulously inquired. “We’re not buying anything today. Or any other day, for that matter.”
 
“We’re seeking Father Liksalot,” Gareth replied loudly. “We’re not selling anything.”
 
“We don’t have anything to sell,” the old man informed them. “We’re not a market, you know!”
 
“We know! We’re here to see Father Liksalot!”
 
“Eh? Barker kicks the box?”
 
“No!” Gareth bellowed. “Father Liks-a-lot!”

That's exactly how our conversations go. Total nonsense. Of course, there's some entertainment value in seeing just how outlandish his interpretations are. Maybe that's why the game was so much fun back when I was a kid...

anny

Dawn Attack

Over the years, the expression 'we attack at dawn' has puzzled me. I would think it would be more advantageous to attack at say...three-thirty a.m. It seems the enemy would just be settling into their deepest sleep and therefore be their most disoriented when roused by the attackers. Why wait until dawn?

Most warriors or soldiers are at their most alert at dawn. Why would that be the time to attack? Heck, if I was going to attack, I'd do it about two-thirty in the afternoon when the human brain starts shutting down and the body needs a nice nap. Have you ever noticed how we slow down mid-afternoon? By three-thirty, I'm nodding off over the keyboard. Now THAT would be the time to attack.

Ancient instincts lead us to be cautious and wary after dark. We draw the curtains, close the blinds, lock the doors and windows because who knows what lurks in the night? Noises are more ominous in the lonely hours before dawn. Who has not spent at least one night wide-eyed, praying for sunrise?

Why do we sleep at night and not during the day? Oh, I know there are some folks who work the night shift, but the vast majority of our fellow humans don't. Why? It's not as though we don't have the technology to light our way now. I sometimes wonder how we will cope if the time ever comes when our sun is so hot we are compelled to work at night just to survive. How would that change our culture?

Maybe that's why there's such a fascination with vampires. Their lives, limited by their inability to walk in the sun, are exotic and strange. And that confinement to the hours after dark places them squarely in the pantheon of scary bogeymen, monsters who prey on the innocent in the night. They wouldn't be nearly as frightening if they were confined to movement during the day only.

Perhaps the main attraction of dawn is the final banishment of the night. Dawn equals security, the ability to see the dangers around us, the beginning of a new day.

Maybe that's why we attack at dawn.

anny 

Starting Over

"No matter how long you've been at it, you always start from scratch."~~Jeffrey Eugenides

I'm not sure why the above quote struck me so powerfully this morning. Maybe I was just awake...for a change. Perhaps it was because I realized I am not the only writer who begins anew with each book.

Every writer starts from scratch.

Think about it. Stephen King, Nora Roberts, Shakespeare, Cindy Spenser Pape, Louis L'Amour, Amarinda Jones, Georgette Heyer, Harper Lee, Alistair MacLean...they all started from scratch with each new book. It sort of levels the playing field, doesn't it? Regardless of genre, working style, message, or craft level, we all start from scratch with every single book.

There is a tendency to put established authors up on a pedestal, somehow elevating them so we fail to remember or believe they have the same tasks as a newbie author. Our struggles seem more difficult than theirs.

Not so. The creative process is the same. We all start from scratch. We all deal with the edits/revisions/plot issues. I find this comforting. Yes, I'm still developing my craft, but when it gets down to it, we all belong to the same guild.

We all start from scratch.

anny

Dad's Hands

Yep, that's me standing on my father's hands. I was about six months old and he had just turned twenty. That was pretty much our relationship for the rest of my life--his support so I could stand on my own.

He's eighty-three now. Still doing some interim pastoring for small churches in between ministers or for pastors who go on vacation. Still driving. Mowing the lawn. Taking care of my stepmother. He can outwalk me on my best day...and when I could still run, he always won our races down the block.

I never had any questions about where he stood on questions of right or wrong. And I always KNEW I was expected to do my best. That was never a point of discussion.

Some kids never see their fathers actually work, but I never saw my dad sit down. He was always doing something...his hands were never idle.

He plays half a dozen instruments he taught himself. And sings.

When I was growing up he worked at dozens of different jobs from picking cotton and pumping gas to working in a mine and delivering milk. No job was too insignificant or menial.

He rides horses. He milks cows. We've raised turkeys and chickens, sheared sheep, slopped pigs. We've lived in the country and lived in the city.

I grew up in churches that ministered to a broad range of people from the wealthy to the stone cold broke. My dad treated everyone the same. If someone needed help, then he was first in line to offer a hand.

Today he's about 1800 miles away, but I still honor him on this sunny Father's Day.

anny