Judy Alter's Blog, page 19

What do you do on weekends?

 

I know a lot who read thisblog are, like me, retired, so I think a question is relevant that came up in asmall online group I belong to: how is the weekend any different. I mean, ifyou can set your own schedule all week long, what if anything sets Saturday orSunday apart?

I particularly thought aboutit today because it was a long, lazy day. The guests I expected tonight camelast night accidentally, so I had nothing to do to prepare. Sophie somehowsenses weekends—she still gets me up at 7:00 promptly for what we are callingher first breakfast. Actually she tried for it at 6:30, but I gave her a pieceof cheese and told her to hang on for half an hour. She did. But then, aftershe had eaten and gone outside briefly, she let me sleep until nine. This is aboon because the shot-givers in the house don’t like to get up early onSaturday, but Sophie has to have her shot within an hour of her second breakfast.All worked out fine.

Jordan was in and out of thecottage all morning, mostly raiding my fridge. She had five sleeping teenageboys and a party mess in the house, but they cleaned it up promptly once theywere awake. She armed herself with leftover lunch meat, chip and dip makings,and the like, but I don’t think they ever came back after the TCU game. Thisevening when I wanted to fix my supper, I had to ask for several pans. But Iwas glad for her occasional company. She and Christian apparently watched theTCU game—I checked the score occasionally—and then tonight, with guests, theBaylor game. They are a house of divided loyalties, as is Megan’s house inAustin.

Meanwhile, I read emails,checked on the daily news—there was a lot that upset me today, mostly aboutways Republicans were scheming to take away more freedoms and benefits. In Texassomehow in connection with the anti-abortion law they are targeting highways.Not sure how that works but soon if we’re not diligent it will be illegal todrive a car with a pregnant woman in it. Some days I read the news from varioussources and don’t share much; other days I share every third thing I read.Today was one of the latter.

I was almost through a novelwhich had an interesting concept, though it too often wandered into introspection.Anyway, I was determined to finish it today so I could write a brief report fora writers' group that had expressed interest. The novel was inspired by the iconicDorothea Lange Depression photograph, “Migrant Mother,” as was my award-winningshort story, “Sue Ellen Learns to Dance,” and so I was comparing the handlingof the core material in the two pieces. Glad to get it done.

Saturdays are often cookingdays for me, and today was no exception. But I ran into a couple of roadblocks.I always have packages of frozen petite peas on hand, so I put one out to thawfor pea salad. Only after about an hour I discovered what I thought was peaswas lima beans. I think I must have bought them by mistake, because I don’t particularlycare for them. Fortunately, I had an almost full package of peas. Often if I’meating alone on a grocery delivery day, I order one serving of fresh fish, sotoday I ordered a quarter lb. of Dover sole—and got a whole pound. After somedeliberation I cooked the whole thing, figuring leftovers will make lunch. It’ssuch a delicate fish—in taste and texture—that every time I sauté it, I endwith fish hash. Tonight, I baked it, and it was delicious and held together better, though I still didn't get a perfect filet.

So here I am, on a Saturdaynight, me and my computer. It’s been a good day, not a lot different from manyof my days, and yet I had the sense all day long that it was Saturday, a dayset apart. One thing jolted me tonight: at 5:30 I turned the TV on to see whatChannel 5 reported on the day’s news—and got a football game. Suddenly Irealized it’s that season again—football will pre-empt the news programs I lookforward to. That does not brighten my Saturdays, though I know at least halfthe rest of the world is delighted.

What about you? Are Saturdaysdifferent?

Bad start to a dog day, a happy hour mix-up, and cheers to some determined ladies

 

Sophie and I started the dayoff on the wrong dog foot. I forgot yesterday that I was out of canned dogfood, didn’t remember until midnight which was too late to ask Jordan for acan. So first thing this morning, I fed Sophie dry kibble. No kidding! She gaveme a long look, like, “This is it? I ordered eggs Benedict and you’re giving meporridge?” By time for her second breakfast (don’t ask!), I had gotten a can ofmeat, which she thought was much better.

And another mix-up. Jean wascoming for supper, and I had the parts all ready and in the fridge. So I was abit surprised when Subie and Phil appeared at five o’clock—I had them on mycalendar for tomorrow night. Luckily, part of supper for Jean was a cucumberdip, so we all enjoyed that and a visit, Subie and Phil left, and Jean and Ihad supper and a visit. Supper was smoked salmon, potato salad, and cucumberdip. Needs work. But the conversation was good. Nice that I’m flexible, but nowI have no company Saturday or Sunday. Guess I’ll order myself some fresh Doversole for Saturday.

The real thing I wanted to blog about tonight, instead ofmy forgetful memory and disorganized friends, is a group of volunteer moms Iread about this week. In 2022’s Bruen decision,the Supreme Court struck down bans on concealed carry and expanded upon theprevious standard for determining the constitutionality of gun regulations,declaring that authorities had to find analogous gun laws that existed prior to1900. Justice Clarence Thomas, writing for the court, found that before thatdate, concealed carry bans were not part of America’s history and traditions,and they were thus unconstitutional.

About 20 volunteers with Moms Demand Action, part of the gun safety groupEverytown, are scouring archives across the United States for historicalfirearm regulations. The project is far from academic. In Bruen, the SupremeCourt demanded proof that a firearm regulation is rooted in “longstanding”tradition in the form of “historical analogues”—old gun laws that show howAmericans “understood” the Second Amendment in the past. The historical recordof firearm regulations, however, is far from complete. So motivated volunteers arestepping in to fill the gaps. What they’ve found directly contradicts theSupreme Court’s conclusions.

While the academic research already relied upon by Thomas and other judges tostrike down gun laws has been shaky at best, the stakes of attempting tosatisfy the test he laid out could not be higher. For just one example, seenext term’s big gun case, which asks whether the Second Amendment prevents thegovernment from disarming people who are under a restraining order for domesticviolence.

These women volunteers are goingbeyond giving voice to their cause, and I admire that. Let’s hope they come upwith strong gun control laws to convince our extremist judges. What I don’t understandis judicial precedent for saying a law had to exist before 1900. Did JusticeThomas make that up out of his own imagination?

That these women are working so hardis, however, part of a new trend to me, and we are seeing it in Texas. It’s atrend to fight Republican authoritarianism and tricks. In Texas, judges haverecently ruled that the ban on gender-affirming care for teenagers isunconstitutional, and so is the book banning law which requires vendors tolabel sexual content in books and ultimately categorize a backlog of bookssold, a task that would consume untold work hours and expense. The AG’s officehas appealed the gender care bill, which somehow means the bill will go intoeffect until the Texas Supreme Court rules—and I believe they have greenlightedthe bill. But the book law is held in abeyance pending the outcome of theappeal. In Houston, teachers are speaking out against the state (read Republican)takeover of the education system with ridiculous requirements. What these casessay to me is that people are fighting back rather than abjectly accepting theseridiculous rulings from on high. (Eat your heart out, Greg Abbott)

When I see one of the frequent comparisonsof what is happening to our country to what happened in 1930s Germany, Iimmediately think of Martin Niemöller’s poem about not speaking out. The bigdifference to me is that Americans are speaking out. It doesn’t always work,but resistance is showing some slow progress. I don’t have statistics at hand,but the number of Americans who support abortion care, gender-affirming care, freedomto read, freedom in the classroom, and—a biggie—gun control is astounding, mostlyin the 80% range. We will not lose our freedoms if we continue to speak out,especially at the ballot box.

Feminist Gloria Steinem proclaims thatif one person speaks out, they make it easier for the next person to speak out.And that very hopeful sign is what I see in America. We will not give updemocracy easily, and no, we don’t need violence in the streets.

Watch for a Mothers Against GregAbbott sign to go up in our front yard this weekend.

Have you found your voice yet to speakout for whatever you consider right and proper?

 

 

 

What’s on your bucket list?

The view from Stirling Castle in the Scottish Highlands,
with the Wallace memorial seen in the middle
Before I get to bucket lists,I want to say that National Dog Day will certainly tell you who your friendsare, although I’m not sure whether it is Sophie or me that has so many friends.But in haste I threw up a handy picture of me holding Sophie—it’s really not aflattering picture of either of us. Sophie was recovering coat after beingshaved at the vet, and one skinny leg, all bone, is sticking up with a tuff offur at the end like a booty. Otherwise, her coat looks like it never met abrush or comb. Sideways from the left is definitely not my best look—so muchjowl I look worse than my dear dad. But 124 of you have liked it—and stillcounting. Sophie and I are both flattered and grateful.

Now about the bucket list. Isaw a suggestion that we replace a bucket list with a “cut it” list, so I gotto thinking about my list. It’s short. I think of bucket lists as mainlylisting travel destinations, and at my age and given the fact that I’m not aneasy traveler—don’t like to fly although I will—and I’m now mobilitychallenged, I have already put several things on a cut-it list. Still on mybucket list: a return to Scotland, where I left my heart in the Highlands, anda return to Chicago, my hometown. It’s no coincidence that I want to go toplaces I love and find comfortable. I missed the gene that wants to exploreevery exotic location on the globe. Machu Picchu is simply not for me.

I suppose a few things besidestravel destinations go on a bucket list, so there are a couple of new restaurantsin Fort Worth I want to go to—Le Margot (French) and Walloon’s (southern seafood).But I really don’t need them on a list. I’ll get there sooner or later.

That made me think about whatI’d do if “The Millionaire” arrived at my front door. My first instinct wasthat I would donate the money, probably to my church. But then I thought aboutthe various projects we’d like to do around the house. Christian wants tocreate a master suite in the attic and an ensuite bedroom for me downstairs(no, I’m not ready to leave the cottage). And I am itching to do extensivelandscaping, turning our lawn into one big bed of wildflowers. I realize theend of the hottest, driest summer in years is not the time to think about that.Besdies, back in the day when “The Millionaire” was popular, a million would gopretty far. I’m not so sure about today.

So much for dreaming about abucket list and sudden wealth. What have I already put on my cut-it list? Acruise through the inner passage in Alaska—sure, I’d like to visit Denali and Ithink Ketchikan would be fun, but Anchorage, Juneau, and Fairbanks aren’t callingmy name. I get pretty good salmon at home. I’d also probably like a trip to NewEngland to see the fall foliage and eat fresh lobster. I know the lobster weget in Texas pales before what I’d eat at the shore, but I’ll settle for it. Acruise that we reluctantly cancelled a few years ago should still be on mybucket list—the Great Lakes from Chicago to Toronto. I’m fascinated by theGreat Lakes, probably due to my Chicago upbringing. In Oakville, a suburb ofToronto, my grandmother’s house was a block from Lake Ontario. So both ends ofthe trip appealed, but the summer we were to go I was seriously ill and lostany enthusiasm for travel. I got my health back, but not the travel enthusiasm.

I suppose all our bucket listsreflect who we are, but I find mine shows that I like the familiar and thecomfortable. I am not all that interested in exploring new places. Even Paris, London,and Rome don’t call to me. I am most happy in my cottage and at my desk. But mylimited list, even my cut-it list, reflects my interest in food. Maybe bucketlists—and cut-it lists—are the new personality indicators.

What’s on your bucket list?Your cut-it list?

What books did you read as a child?

 

Author Susan Witting Albert,writing on her post, “Place & Thyme” in Substack, recalled how she got tobe Carolyn Keene, author the Nancy Drew books, for a while. Carolyn Keene was ahouse name—an imaginary author created by a publisher who then hired various authorsto write books anonymously. For Susan, being Carolyn Keene was a dream cometrue. She recalled a childhood devoted to reading which prepared her for thatopportunity, and 143 readers in turn commented on their memories of the booksthey read as children. Nancy Drew was the clear winner as to be expected.

For me, talking about areading childhood was a real trip back in time. The summer when I was—oh,probably ten or eleven, around there—I would ride my bike every morning to the Blackstonebranch of the Chicago Pubic Library and come home with a stack of six or eightbooks. It was probably a bike ride of about six blocks, and when I think of it now,I am amazed my parents let me go alone. But that was then, a totally differenttime.

Once home with my books, Ispent the day on the screened-in front porch reading, ignoring the cries ofneighbor children who wanted me to come out and play. I was too busy in myfantasy worlds. It was about then that I wrote my first short story, but that’sa tale to be told another day.

But I remember books longbefore I was able to ride to the library, a few even before I could read. I knowmy mom read The Wind in the Willows to me, and I remember the LilColonel Stories by Annie Fellows Johnson, written around the turn of thecentury (not this one, the last one). And then there were the tales of UncleRemus, African American folk tales written by Joel Chandler Harris duringReconstruction. And, of course, there were the Bobbsey Twins, a series of seventy-twobooks published from 1904 through 1979. These, like the Nancy Drew books, werepublished by the Stratemeyer syndicate under the house name of Laura Lee Hope.

Another book I loved was LittleBlack Sambo, also written at the turn of the century, this by a Scottishwoman. Sambo was an Indian boy living in the jungle, and the story revolvesaround his encounter with tigers in the jungle. At first, author Helen Bannermanwas hailed for presenting the first black hero, but by the 1950s the books was consideredracist. Poet Langston Hughes judged that the illustrations were offensive, donein a “pickaninny style.” Today, many versions of the book, all sanitized I’msure, are available. Little Black Sambo was so popular at my house thatmy mom hooked a rug with a tiger on it for one of my children.

My reading tastes moved on, ofcourse, to the Nancy Drew books, although unlike many of Nancy’s fans, I neverwas equally interested in the Hardy Boys books. But I devoured the tales ofCherry Ames, nurse, and Sue Barton, another nurse. Trixie Belden wasn’t nearlyas fascinating as Nancy Drew, but I still read her adventures. And I have fondmemories of Alfred Payson Terhune’s books about collies—I desperately wanted acollie, and somewhere in my high school years my parents got me a collie puppy.They did not, however, get me a horse despite my equal fascination with AnnaSewell’s Black Beauty books.

The last series I rememberfrom my school years were the New Orleans novels of Frances Parkinson Keyes. Afterthat, there is a great gap in my memory, due no doubt to years of undergraduateand college work with heavy required reading lists. The wonders of literaturethat I discovered during those years are too numerous to mention, except I can’tomit Emily Dickinson who was the subject of my master’s thesis. By the time Iwrote a dissertation, I was hooked on literature of the American West—the writersand the artists. Those loves have stayed with me through a long lifetime ofwriting, often about the American West. But I do remember that when I firstfelt the urge to write a mystery, I sketched out one so baldly derived fromNancy Drew that it was an embarrassment. And it’s no accident that today I write,or have most recently written, cozy mysteries.

As I look back at my readinghistory, I realize what a rich heritage is available to our children, and thenI am angry, sad, you name it, that petty minds are keeping so many Americanclassics from the school and libraries. Classics like To Kill a Mockingbird orThe Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison, Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White,Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, Catcher in the Rye by Salinger,Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath, and so many more. If children are keptfrom these books through twelfth grade, they will never again pick them up, andthey will miss the wonderful world that waits for them in those pages. They arenot likely to be truly educated adults with good reasoning skills, and they surelywill miss a lot of cultural references. In some cocktail conversations, they’llbe hopelessly lost.

What is being done to readingcurricula is a travesty, and to make it worse, it is done by a few determined,bigoted, narrow-minded people. If they censor their own children, that’s sad buttheir privilege. But nobody, from the extreme evangelist next door to RonDeSantis and Greg Abbott, has the right to tell me what my grands can read.

So what books shaped yourchildhood?

For a list of banned classics,go here: WhatAmerican classic books have been banned fromschools - Search (bing.com)

 

The uncertainties of friendship

 

Is the garden of your friendships this colorful and varied?
Last night I had supper with awoman I knew fifty years ago when I was a young mother and she was ababysitting teenager. We’d touched base over the years a bit, but last nightwas our first time to visit and reminisce and laugh and trade stories. And itmade me grateful for renewed friendships.

Facebook played a part inbringing us back together, and Facebook is at least partly responsible forother renewed friendships and some that are new in recent years. I am still inclose touch with my best friend from high school, mostly through Facebook butoccasionally through more personal emails. We know all about each other’sfamilies—she has five children and umpteen greats to my four children and sevengrands. We trade recipes and stories of aging—we are right now in thattwo-month period when I am a year older, and she delights in rubbing it in. Itis a treasured relationship.

Similarly I remain close to acouple I knew in the early sixties in graduate school. We have never againlived in the same city, but we have visited over the years, both in Santa Feand Fort Worth. We can go weeks without talking and then pick up right where weleft off. It is a reassuring friendship to me.

But over the years I’ve alsolost friends as they seem to drop by the wayside. One friend in the East isalways a frequent correspondent, with long emails, just after she’s visited andwe’ve had a good catching up on everything from dogs and recipes to our sharedpolitical views. But then it drops off gradually, and now I don’t think I’veheard in a year. I should write—and I will soon.

Recently, talking to Megan, Iheard her use the term “ghosted”—her physical therapist had ghosted her and didnot return phone calls or emails. It occurred to me that I have been ghosted bysome, and a couple of them bother me, because they are like unsolved mysteries.One is a woman I traveled the state of Texas with as we went from writers conferenceto workshop to lectures. We even performed our “dog and pony show” where shetalked of being a fifth generation Texan and I countered with tales of anewcomer. Somehow in recent years I felt a growing distance and had the sensethat I had angered or hurt her. I should have asked, but I lacked the nerve. Iemailed and she’d answer, but now there’s no word. I understand she is beset byhealth problems and the like. And I can understand that. Sort of.

Another that bothers me is aman I used to lunch with frequently. We were good friends who shared lots oflaughs, family events, etc. His wife used to laugh about “the other woman.”Last time I saw him he joked that retirement meant he’d have to take me tolunch more often. Then I called him one day for a referral, and there was a newdistance in his voice, a coldness. And one day at church when his wife said,“Look who’s here!” he said, “Yeah,” and kept walking. Brainwashed female that Iam, I assume I did something, but I have no idea what. It’s been at least threeyears now, and it still bothers me.

Author Ann Lamott, whosewisdom blows me away, says that when someone drops out of your life, it meansthat their part in your story is over. I can understand that, I guess, but I’dlike more graceful exits.

I’m not blameless either. I havelet some friendships go, mostly when it became burdensome to maintain them,once over not exactly politics but the moral stance involved. But there again,typical female, I feel guilty. Sometimes though I want to point out thatfriendship is a two-way street.

Meantime I treasure the manyfriendships I am blessed with, like a couple of good women I’ve know for fortyyears. But there are also people who I consider close friends who have newlycome into my life. Friendship is an ever-changing thing. My working philosophyis that friendship is like a garden—you have to tend to it, nurture it, show itaffection. And it’s always a work in progress.

An outstanding day from my point of view

 

This is Pete the Gecko (I justnamed him and have no idea why I thought Pete was appropriate). Pete was madeby mosaic artist Susan Swaim, an old friend, and is part of my drive to haveart in the cottage with some meaning to me—often, because it was done by artistsI care about. Suzi used to babysit my kids when they were young, tonight wedecided it was pre-school. In recent years I’ve seen her mosaic art online, andwhen I saw the first few geckos she did I thought vaguely that I wished I couldhave one. This year, as my birthday approached, I realized there was no good reasonI couldn’t give myself one as a birthday present—and I commissioned it. Theneat thing is that Suzi incorporated a bit of my jewelry that I sent her—can youfind the rose on Pete’s back? Came from a necklace I no longer wear, and acouple of other pieces came from things I had. Pete will hang just to the rightof my desk—there’s a nice blank piece of wall waiting for him.

Look at Suzi’s work at Facebook Shecalls her studio my mosaic mojo.

Suzi delivered Pete in persontonight. I probably haven’t seen her in over thirty years, so it was a greatcatch-up time. Her mom was a friend of mine way back in TCU days and came from threegenerations of a family deeply involved with TCU, so we talked a lot about hermom and being in the eighties and TCU and just lots of stuff. Went to Lucile’s,which is a favorite of mine, and I got the lobster roll I’d been wanting. Athoroughly enjoyable evening with lots of laughter.

It was a rareout-of-the-cottage day for me. Christian and I went to church this morning.Russ’ sermon was on the parable of Jesus telling the lame man to pick up hisbed and be healed, and the sermon dwelt on the question Jesus asked the man: “Doyou really want to be healed?” The point was that a lot of us cling to our problems,imperfections, even illnesses because they are comfortable. Much as we railagainst them, we know how to deal with them. Being “healed,” represents a greatunknown. Russ finally asked the question, “Do you want to move out of yourcomfort zone?” and I wanted to say, “I’m here, aren’t i? I’m in church and notwatching in the cottage.”

Two outings in one day was abig deal for me, although that makes my life sound constricted, which is notthe way I feel about it at all. I am always torn between a conscience thatprods me to get out in the world and the lure of the comfort of my cottage. Iused to have such an active, busy life, and now I’m so content in my cottagethat I have to gear myself up to go out. Once I do, however, I’m glad to havedone it. So thanks to Christian and Suzi for getting me out of my comfort zone.I think this whole recluse business crept up on me with pandemic and quarantine.And then I think about how many lives were forever changed by that traumatic period.Not just the illness and death, but the social changes, the work-from-homechanges, the stay-at-home dinners instead of patronizing favorite restaurants.I think in many ways we are still reeling from the results of that socialupheaval. And now, here comes another onslaught of covid

On the bright side, it is cooltonight, eighty as I write about nine-thirty. There was a good shower to the southof us, but we’ve had no rain so far. Still, the air smells like rain, and I amever hopeful. I know the nineties is hot but compared to what we’ve had, itwill seem pleasant. Let us count our blessings as we sail into a new week.

From good company to Covid and Mac and Cheese

 

Colin taking a break from all my chores.
It’s been an intense two days.My oldest son, Colin, has been here to work on “boy chores,” my financial statusand a trust, and cleaning up what he sees as messes on my computer. Okay, yes,I did have three iPads and an email account I haven’t looked at in years andother such eccentricities. Tonight, when I thought he was through, I closed outa bunch of windows so I could place my weekly grocery order with CentralMarket. Wrong thing to do. It brought forth great groans and moans. So I’m notsure what problems I will be left with when he leaves tomorrow. The work on thetrust, however, has been fascinating—an interview with the lawyer who didColin’s trust and that of his wife opened my eyes to a lot of financial quirksI had never thought about. The business end of the visit has been worthwhileand reassuring.

But I am, as always, overjoyedto have him here and enjoy his company. My way of showing it, of course, is tokill the fatted cat, so I had emailed him to ask if he wanted meatloaf ortamale pie. He chose meatloaf, and I worked hard to get it ready before ascheduled Zoom appointment last night. Timing was perfect, and meatloaf wasready when the call was over. But guess what got the raves? Not my meatloaf butLouella’s rice which Jordan threw together at the last minute. Tonight I fixedtamale pie with polenta. When Colin smelled the sauce, he said, “I’ve had thisbefore,” and I agreed he probably had. Turns out he was not anticipating likingthe polenta part but loved it and had a huge second helping. Then Jordanconfessed she and Christian don’t really like polenta, but they eat it becauseI “fix it good.” My cooking ego has taken a bit of a bruising.

Yesterday I read an articlethat I think was by a faculty member at West Virginia University, where theyare considering discontinuing all humanities courses. One line in his writingparticularly struck me: “I am angry because we seem to be turning everything thatcelebrates our shared humanity into a business.” The attitude today is if itdoesn’t make a profit, get rid of it. As an English major and occasionalclassroom teacher, I grieve for this in education. We will lose our commonheritage, the ties that bind us together, if we lose art and history andliterature and dance. I think it’s particularly scary as AI surges in use andmisuse. Magazines are beset by submissions that are AI generated, novels are nodoubt being written the same way. And I have read a lot about college facultytaking precautions to weed out AI-generated reports. If the world of Orwell’s 1984is not to become a reality, we must embrace and support the humanities, notthrow them aside.

It's a circuitous route but cutting out the humanities ultimatelyincreases the power of the one percent, because it diminishes those who aremore interested in creativity than profit. By eliminating the humanities, theway is left open for “business and entrepreneurship” to sweep the field.

I did not watch the Republican candidates debate this week, butthe critiques I heard were all over the board, with some reassuring that wewere hearing more traditional conservative voices than MAGA. But I washorrified when a local columnist, with whom I frequently disagree, called RonDeSantis strong on education. There again, we’re back to wiping out the humanitieswhich he has done in Florida with book banning and censorship. He who claimseducation is not about indoctrination, has managed to be the most indoctrinaireever.

And the same concern, that profit overrules everything else,applies to environmental concerns. We need to fight the big corporations thatare drilling and mining and shipping in areas that endanger the environment. Isaw a meme today that said, “There is no profit on a dead planet.”

Moving right along, we are apparently being visited by a surge ina Covid virus that is a variant of omicron and is particularly resistant tovaccines. A new vaccine is being developed, and I will be among the first inline to get it. But I am aware we will fight the vaccine wars all over againwith extremists on the right (led by Robert Kennedy, Jr). Those people withtheir flagrant disregard of science endanger the health of the rest of us. Afriend was coming to dinner last week but emailed that she had been exposed.Reluctantly, I cancelled. If it’s going to take more isolation, I’m ready.

The good news I can think of tonight is that there is a newrestaurant chain with a strange but intriguing name: I Heart Mac & Cheese.Yep, they have varieites of Mac & Cheese (lobster always intrigues me) andseveral kinds of grilled cheese. The menu fascinates me, mostly because I’m acheese fan, but it presents an old dilemma to someone like me who cooks: whyget so excited about a new chain when it features things you can easily fix athome? On the other hand, would you fix a grilled cheese with pulled pork, ham,Swiss cheese, and dill pickle? I don’t think so.

Stay cool everyone, and cross your fingers that relief is insight.

PS This was my Friday night blog but between Colin, me, and changing default emails, I lost the ability to post to the blog. Another intense computer session, and I'm back. Colin is headed home to Tomball, so if I find more problems, I'm out of luck!

How true does fiction have to be?

I’m reading an interesting bookright now—or let’s say the concept behind the book is interesting. I reallyhaven’t gotten far enough into it to be sure about the novel. Titled MaryCoin, it braids a story from the early twentieth century with a contemporaryone. The contemporary story seems to be pure fiction, but the historical segmentis based on the life of the woman in Dorothea Lange’s iconic Depression photothat she called “Migrant Mother.” A woman, obviously aged beyond her years withwork and weather and children, sits on the back of an ancient, broken-down car,surrounded by children with an infant in her lap.

Lange took the photo in 1938but the woman’s identity was not known until the 1970s. Lange was known forcareful record-keeping, but the day she took this she was in a hurry and justhappened on the scene accident. The woman was Florence Thompson, althoughthrough several marriages she had several last names. Probably at least partNative American, she was a migrant worker, moving from Oklahoma to California.Along the way she had numerous children and several husbands and ended her daysliving in a mobile park in California, although her children had bought a housefor her. None of that, however, relates to my short story or, as far as I cantell, to the novel I’m reading.

Way back when I was inspiredby that iconic photo to write a short story titled, “Sue Ellen Learns to Dance.”I was sort of proud of it and gratified when it won a Saddleman (WesternHeritage) Award from the National Cowboy Hall of Fame. The award is in the formof a bronze statue depicting a man on horseback. When the emcee handed me thestatue, on a glittery awards night, he (It may have been one of PresidentGerald Ford’s sons—he was there one night), he said, “It’s heavy.” And it was,but it’s one of my prize possessions. I went on to use the story as the lead inmy only collection of short stories, Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and OtherStories.

I have not gotten far into thenovel, but I can tell that author Marisa Silver sees a far different woman inthe photo than I did. Still I am intrigued by the concept of using a piece ofart as the springboard for fiction. And the braiding of past and present remindsme of one of my favorite novels, Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner.Stegner took the journals of artist Mary Halleck Foote as the basis for the novel.Foote left her New York career for the rough life of a miner’s wife in thecamps of California. Stegner was roundly criticized for having taken libertieswith the facts of Foote’s life and journals, introducing a love affair and thedeath of a child. But Stegner’s book too braids past and present. And it raisesthe question of how much leeway novelists—or short story writers—can take withthe facts of history.

Some are more devoted tohistorical accuracy than others—and I admit I have not always been a devotee. Inhistorical novels, if there was a gap, I wove in what I imagined might havehappened. And in the first short story I ever wrote, I took extreme libertieswith the truth. The story, “That Damn Cowboy!” was inspired by artist and sculptorRufus Zogbaum, a neighbor and, in his mind, rival of Frederick Remington inupstate New York. When Zogbaum’s son rushed in to report that Mr. Remington hadsculpted a perfect bucking cowboy, Zogbaum was, so the story goes, furious. ButI turned it into a short story set in the West and told by an old woman, theartist’s son, who has cared for him all these years and nursed his fantasies.For a brief period, I was probably the world’s reigning authority on Zogbaum,except maybe for his grandson who I once met, just because no one else knewanything about him.

So tonight I’m left with acouple of thoughts. One is that I should blatantly advertise my short storycollection more, so if you want to check it out, you can do so at SueEllen Learns to Dance and Other Stories - Kindle edition by Alter, Judy.Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com. It’sonly ninety-nine cents if you read ebooks. But my other thought is that Ishould revisit my Zogbaum files and maybe do something with them.

Meantime I will forge ahead onMary Coin.

Political puzzlements

 

Every once in a while, myanger, my indignation gets the best of me, and I feel the need to dip into matterspolitical in this blog. Tonight is such a night. If you want to turn away, I’llunderstand. The source of my puzzlement is of course the man some have referredto as the orange buffoon. Now thoroughly disgraced in the eyes of most of us,he is still front and center in the daily news. So I’m throwing out some thingsthat puzzle me, not expecting hard and fast answers, but perhaps some willshare their thoughts

We hear constantly about trump’splans for his next term as president, as though it were a given certainty. Muchof what he plans to do is apparently illegal, but he’s good at manipulating,and I have no doubt, back in office, he would consolidate power in thepresidency. That’s one of the more scary thoughts, considering the direction hetook the country in his term—disease uncontrolled, debt ballooning out ofsight, international relationships destroyed, environmental controls ignored andcancelled, infrastructure improvements promised but never delivered.

But so much that indicatesthat he will never hold office again. For starters, most Americans think hedeserves a trial and punishment, and if statistics are right, most of us assumehe has done at least half of what he’s accused of. So who’s going to vote forhim? (I know—the cult; but how big are their numbers?)

Legal scholars, evenconservative ones, are coming forward in recent days to declare that the fourteenthamendment absolutely means trump is ineligible to hold any federal office becauseinstigated a revolution against our country and violated his oath of office.Even though that has not yet (stress yet) been determined in a court of law,most folks agree. But if that’s true, and if the Senate has to vote on his eligibility(I think that’s the way it works), who is going to put that in motion? We can talkabout it for two years, but it shouldn’t wait until after an election.

Then there’s the question ofhis mental stability—just ask his niece, Dr. Mary Trump. Or maybe we don’t haveto ask her. Clearly, he is impulsive, uncontrolled, without compassion orintellect or any idea of the social bounds that govern most of us in our dailylives. Does he fit the definition of a psychopath? Sociopath? I’m no expert,but it seems to me experts are testifying, granted at a distance, to hisinstability. So once again, who puts things in motion? The 25thamendment is no help now, since it applies to sitting presidents. So whodeclares a candidate mentally unfit for office? It’s a question not much consideredin elections in our long history. But we have never before elected a man likeDonald J. trump.

On the other side of theseweighty questions are the MAGA folks who are threatening to shut down thegovernment unless the DOJ backs off all charges against trump. I’m not sure theAmerican people would stand for that, let alone elect him. Why would we let aminority dictate that the rule of law be abandoned?

Yet these folks seem convincedof the rightness of their arguments, and I am left puzzled. Do they reallybelieve, in the face of all the evidence and court cases, that the 2020election was stolen? And do they really believe that President Biden weaponizedthe DOJ to help him defeat trump in 2024. They have watched trump throw most ofhis colleagues under the bus—do they not realize they could be next? And dothey really believe that they can sway the 2024 election by hounding Hunter Bidenfor being the president’s son?

How many American votersassess the candidates logically when deciding on their votes? I’m afraid it’s adisappointing number. If people were paying attention to policy, they would seethat the Democratic policies, as enacted by President Biden, have put ourcountry on an upward path—economically, internationally, environmentally, etc.Those logical voters will see that the Republicans have no policies, no plansfor the American future. They are too busy trying to blame Biden and his familyfor what they call the disastrous path that America is on.

In some ways, it all comesback to education—and that explains why DeSantis, Abbott, and other Republicansare trying to destroy public education. An educated voter will see through thesmokescreen of lies and choose the party and leader who has solid plans for thefuture of the country.

I sure would welcome some comments.

Want to find the creative creature inside of you?

 

Fredericksburg, Texas
Seems too bad, but I have tosay right off the bat that this post is for women only. My apologies to the manwho read my blog. Its because I want to tell the ladies who read this blogabout a retreat coming up next month—really sooner than you think—and it’s forwomen only.

On September 25-27, inFredericksburg, Texas, my good friends Jeanne Guy and Stephanie Raffelock willhost a retreat designed to help women answer the question, “Who were you beforethe world told you who you are?” It’s all about creative strength, courage, andwisdom. Sessions will provide writing prompts, time for personal reflection,and other times for listening to some wise women. In between, you can get toknow the other ladies at the retreat and have some truly important conversationson what it means to be a woman in 2023. Even the movie, Barbie, may berelevant.

I know and respect the womenwho are leading this retreat. Jeanne Guy, an award-winning author, has led manysuccessful retreats, helping women bring out undiscovered energy and creativityin themselves. With an irreverent sense of humor, she may laugh you intoself-discovery. One of her big delights in life these days? Officiating atweddings. Texas is about to lose her as she prepares to move to Whidbey Island,so this may be your last chance to share some time with her.

And Stephanie Raffelock has aspiritual side that makes me envious. She is in touch with what goes on in hermind and body in a way that is duplicated by few if any women I know. She isthe editor of Art in the Time of Unbearable Crisis, a collection ofpandemic writings, and the author of  ADelightful Little Book on Aging and her signature work, Creatrix Rising:Unlocking the Power of Midlife Women. But Stephanie isn’t all ethereal spirituality—shegardens, she walks her dog daily, she cooks, and she loves to shop at Central Market.Someone all of us can relate to.

The retreat is sponsored byStory Circle Network, an international organization founded by celebratedauthor Susan Wittig Albert in 1997 to encourage women to tell their stories andpersonal histories. Albert, who once wrote Nancy Drew mysteries under a publishinghouse name and is now best known for the China Bayles herbal mysteries, recognizedthat women were often hesitant to share their stores umbrella, they are encouragedto create memoir, poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and drama. SCN offers online writingclasses, an awards program, book reviews, and several publications including a journaland a blog. The organization even offers writing trips abroad, led by theoutstanding Len Leatherwood. To learn more about SCN, go to About Story Circle — Who We Are, OurHistory, Our Board of Directors.

I have belonged to the StoryCircle Network for several years and have been so glad to connect with womenwho share my love of writing. It’s like finding a home. But it’s not all aboutme. I have relished not only the friendship of the women I’ve met but thestories they share.

Nobody needs an excuse to goto Fredericksburg, but it you did, the retreat is the perfect one. There willbe time left for long walks and exploration of the historic town. With a deepGerman history, Fredericksburg offers wineries, excellent food, lots of goodbeer, and fascinating shops. It is the home of Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz ofWorld War II fame, and a museum there honors his accomplishments. If you haven’tbeen before, you’ll want to check out the Sunday houses, small structures wherefarm families rested after coming into town for church. Who knows, you mightlearn a few words of the distinctive mix of German and English still spoken bysome residents.

A retreat, some time spent ina colorful historical Texas town, and an introduction to an organization thatwants you to tell your story. What more could you need? Read more about theretreat here: storycircle.org/2023-retreat/

And tell Jeanne and StephanieI sent you.