Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Long Live Romanticism

In my AP Lang class, we have been reading the American Romantics and Transcendentalists and I  keep referring to songs that have the same themes and motifs.  These poor babies just look at me like I am too far gone.

When I told Jack that they knew nothing good (not to belittle their music, but goodness, they need to branch out), we decided to undertake their music education starting now.  Last week I opened by having Pink Floyd's "Time" playing and the lyrics up on the projector when they walked in.  (I am sure their will be lots of revisits to Carpe Diem in the coming weeks.). Pink Floyd?  Five out of twenty had heard of them.  Only two had heard them, actually listened to a song.

Today, we will be reading Emerson's "Self Reliance" and they get to listen to Oingo Boingo's "We Close Our Eyes."  Next week when we sample some Walden, it is Talking Heads and "Flowers."  And then we will talk about irony.   The darkness of anti-transcendentalism will be next and then the gritty realism of the Civil War and new frontiers.  Not sure what music will happen then or when I get on my Kate Chopin feminism kick.  Jack thinks spoken word poetry should be done with Cake.

If there is some vital song that I need bring to their world, by all means, share!

It is unclear if I will be deemed cool or just weird, but I do remember Ann playing some They Might Be Giants in our Joe Campbell class.   Ann was such an amazing teacher - she let me have opinions.   Then she taught me to defend them.

  Ooh, Giants need to go in the list.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Whirl

My life is this weird series of being a single parent weeks divided by learning to be a wife again weeks.  So far it has gone fairly smoothly, perhaps because I remember how hard it was when we did this before.    On and off for our first three years, Jack worked in Guthrie during the week and came home on weekends.  I purely hated it.  We weren't very good at being married yet - I remember thinking that marrying Jack was such a disservice to him, that we surely had to find our footing soon lest we end up miserable.  When he was away, I did my own thing, cooked as I pleased, watched what I wanted.  And when he came home, it was hard to switch into being a partner.  I know I feared him leaving for Guthrie angry so I tiptoed around anything that might displease him.  I loved him doing those rooms in Guthrie, but looking back, it wasn't a good way to begin a life.

This time around, we seem to be on more even ground.  Maybe we learned each other enough that I am confident in us, but when he is home, we slide right back into real life fairly well.  We miss him when he is gone, but I am too busy to fuss.  

I desperately needed fall break and wish I weren't already sucked back into the merry-go-round whirl that is school and home.  So far, as long as I can make it a week, Jack comes home again and I get to share, both the joys and the stress.  He thinks November will be a long month of him being mostly gone - I am already telling myself, "two months until Christmas Break," and then I realize it is only two months until Christmas.  Talk about whirl.

There are plenty of bright spots - and there is plenty of stress.  This is what I read in your blogs, reading that you are trying to find that balance, that way through.  It is supposed to lovely here the next few days - if you can, stop and breathe. Look around and breathe some more.  The whirl will still be there, but draw on those who help you, draw on that strength within.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Anchor

I know that a girl is supposed to be "daddy's girl," and I know when I was
little, I was, but as an adult my mama is probably my best friend.

I love to be with my dad - I can think of a lot of moments that are perfect.  But I get my love of words, cooking, and weird sense of humor from my mom.  It is she who taught me to love James Thurber and how satisfying it can be to make a perfect roux.

Really, mom is that best friend and glue for all of us.  After dinner on Sundays, dad goes outside to work on the farm, but mama sits at the table carrying on several different conversations with her tribe of children and grandchildren until she weaves them all into one.  Dad comes back in for the finish and dessert, but mama has anchored us through the afternoon.

She is in the hospital this week with gallstones and pancreatitis.  And of course this happened when she was searching for a new doctor.  She started out in Duncan, but her condition worsened and Thursday, she was moved to Baptist Integris where there are specialists.  The doctors there were planning on doing an endoscopic surgery yesterday to remove gallstones - they might have been blocking a bile duct, but that did not happen.  As of yesterday, her enzyme numbers were getting better so surgery has been postponed until next week, in hopes that her pancreas can heal a little before the gall bladder is removed.  My mom is also diabetic which always complicates everything.

I don't drive in the city.  This country mouse barely drives  at all.  Yesterday mom was knocked out for tests but might be awake today and I think at least two of siblings are going up.  I will try to meet them in Chickasha and ride up with them.  I saw her Thursday when she was in Duncan's hospital and she seemed so vulnerable.

It has been a long week of worrying for mom- I know we are all thinking of a relative who spent months in the hospital with the same issue and almost died over it. It has been a long week of not being able to call her and hear about her week.   I have missed her emails, book discussions, and political analysis. I think this is the first time since we moved (other than being snowed in at Christmas) that I have felt cut off from the family.

I am reminded this week of how fragile life is and of the strength so many of you must gather up each day, just to keep moving forward.  My circle of friends, you have parents with dementia and Alzheimer's, you have broken bones, you have lost spouses and parents, you have faced cancer and fear and sickness.  Yet, you put on faith, the armor or faith, and walk it out.  You walk out of the darkness and into the sun again and again.