Final semester

Back in September I wrote about this being my last year of teaching at Gustavus.It's February, and half of my time has run out; only one semester remains. Again I have to decide upon three objects to bring to class the first day --tomorrow--that represent where I am in my life. This time it's the last time, and I feel good that it's the last time. Here's my plan:

1. My incomplete Seven Stories Project. This is a writing project my students have done nearly every semester. It started as family stories and now it is the answer to the question, "If you had to tell about your life in only seven stories, what would those stories be?" It's an impossible task for me to complete with only seven stories, but I'm going to try to have it in some form of "finished" by May 18. It's not too hard to figure out that the project is supposed to be symbolic of my life, but I don't like to follow rules, so there will be more than seven stories and they will be about lots more than just me!

2. A rock that has Remember carved into it. Two friends gave it to me after Grandma Bene died. Right now it sits in the living room in front of the photo I have of Molly on the beach. My memories of eleven years teaching at Gustavus are mostly good ones. Well that's a lie. I might have to make up something to work this one in.

3. I haven't decided on the third item yet. I'm leaning toward a book I have called If... which is filled with "what if" types of questions. You know... "If you had to choose a room in your house to live in that you could never leave, which room would it be?" or "If dogs could make peanut butter sandwiches, would you eat one?" This book makes me realize there are many ideas I've never thought about thinking about, much less doing, like eating a peanut butter sandwich made by a dog, for one. Sounds messy. If I choose the book, it will represent the what-ifs waiting out there after the spring semester is over, my office is cleaned out, and I have no income. Maybe my third item should be a bottle of booze instead!

As much I love teaching and as much as I'll miss it, I'm not feeling sentimental about tomorrow being "the last first day" (thank you, Mary, for that phrase). There are reasons to be done with this job that would sound cranky and not very kind-hearted if I were to describe them here, so I won't. Even though I'm not misty-eyed, I do have butterflies in my stomach, the same as I've had the night before every first day of every semester since I've been at Gustavus, and every first day of my teaching career. It still feels new.

Happy Birthday to Charlie!

Charlie's first birthday--just after Dad helped him burn his finger on the candle.

Gumbo time in Louisiana

It's never too late for holiday letters to arrive. This week we heard from Larry/Dad/Paco's former research advisor Hal Swofford and his wife Elna and also from my MSU advisor, who's name is Betty (Betty #3 on a previous blog post). Both communications were by email, which makes me think I need to print them and save with the paper holiday cards and letters which I usually read through again sometime in the summer or fall to remind myself that I should communicate more often than once a year with some of those folks.

Anyway, I'll get back on track here. Betty and Bill's holiday e-letter comes on the eve of the Holy War between the Vikings and the Saints, so there's lots of football talk going on. Once that's over, it's back to focusing on Mardi Gras for Betty and Bill. I couldn't resist posting this excerpt from their letter. No matter how unusual we Minnesotans are perceived to be for ice fishing, you betcha's, lutefisk, and other oddities we blame on the Swedes and Norwegians, there are stranger things going on elsewhere. Betty writes...

Last year, we had several family members join us here for Mardi Gras. We are in Eunice, Louisiana, which is the heart of Prairie Cajun Country. Three were here from pacific northwest, and two from Ozarks. This year, one from Seattle and my sister/hubby from Ozarks. We are able to participate in the Chicken Run, a traditional Cajun experience. We ride on a hay bale wagon (in costume) and stop at various farmsteads along the route.

The revelers go begging for food... if you can imagine over 200 costumed drunk people begging for rice, beans, chickens, or anything to go into the gumbo. They climb onto the roof of specific homes, and the owner throws a chicken to the crowd below. They race and run after it. As soon as it is caught, the poor chicken gets fed beer, etc., to take away the pain. The run stops at the farm where it started where gumbo (made from last year's chickens) is ready, as is the music. Dancing goes on til midnight, when it is Ash Wednesday, and all frivolity stops.

These customs came from France, thru Acadia in Nova Scotia, on into Louisiana when the British ran out the Acadians who wouldn't embrace the Church of England in 1750. Most of them got to Louisiana because it was a French possession and the population spoke the language. It has taken us several winters here to get it all figured out... and we even went to Nova Scotia in '03 to see it all at that end. There are many ways to celebrate Mardi Gras... at home they have Fat Tues pancake suppers at church.... as all of this is supposed to mean that "NO ONE SHOULD GO INTO LENT HUNGRY."

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Me again. If you do a YouTube search for "chicken run Eunice, Louisiana" you'll see the wild costumes, including people dressed as chickens and what appear to be KKK clowns. They're not, but you'll see what I mean if you browse a bit!

Well, Betty, the only advice I can give is to watch out for flying chickens and drunken runners. And as they say in Nawlins, laissez le bon temp rouler.

Block mania

Dad/Larry/Grandpappy/Paco wants someone to build with him...

Small world

Dad/Larry/Paco is the featured guest writer for this blog entry.

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Back in June, 2001, Don, Jill, and I closed my parents' home in Buffalo to prepare to sell it. Jill and I took 450 of Dad's math and engineering books over to the University of Buffalo (SUNY at Buffalo) as a donation. We received the paperwork acknowledging their receipt of his donation, and the promise that they would put stickers naming him as the donor in all the books they kept for their collection. Well, one turned up! A friend of nephew Dan's at Buffalo State borrowed a book on hydrodynamics from the UB collection, and found the sticker and Dad's signature. She asked Dan if there was any connection to him, and he was pleased to say yes and to explain it. Nice to see a reminder of Dad, but a little chilling to see his writing after so many years.

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I felt the same looking at the familiar, but younger, handwriting that I'd seen so many times in letters Grandpa Larry wrote to us.

The big screen

This miserable below zero weather has a plus side. Would somebody tell me what it is?

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Dad/Larry/Paco/Grandpappy and I have watched two rental movies in two nights, and will watch a third this evening. This is a record for us. I know people who rent several movies to watch in a weekend, but I can't sit still that long. I can't sit still for ONE movie, if the truth be told, so I do other things like send e-mail, type labels to stick on the back of photos so I don't forget when they were taken, and then put said labels on the photos. Folding laundry is a good way to pass time while watching a movie, as is organizing the contents of my purse or writing checks to pay bills (when I start paying bills online, I'll do that, too.). I think I've just figured out why going to movies in theaters isn't on my list of favorite things.

Last night we watched the 2008 version of The Taking of Pelham 123 with Denzel Washington (good guy) and John Travolta (really, really, really, really bad guy). It's a remake of a 1974 movie by the same name, starring Walter Matthau. I think I saw it in the '80s, but I might be making that up. I recommend this movie if you like suspense, a story line with twists and turns, and cold-blooded shooting. I have a hard time with blatant violence, and this movie has enough of it to last a while. Same with the use of the F word. Aren't we past that yet?

The night before we watched Is Anyone There? starring Michael Caine as (guess what?) a cranky old guy who is at death's door. He's done a lot of that lately, and he's very good at it in this movie. We think the story is about a young boy who is trying to understand death by audiotaping the events that follow the deaths of elderly people who live in the home for the aged that his parents operate. He's trying (unsuccessfully) to capture paranormal phenomena-- the voices of the dead and such. As you might guess, he befriends Clarence (Caine's character) and the two of them do stuff together. If that sounds vague it's because...

(a) the soundtrack was uneven and we couldn't get most of what was said, or
(b) British folk from that particular part of England don't want anyone to understand what they say, so they mumble, or
(c) we're deaf, or
(d) all of the above.

Tonight it's time for Angels and Demons, not because of the good reviews its gotten-- like this spectacular one from the Rotten Tomatoes website: " Angels and Demons is a fast-paced thrill ride, and an improvement on the last Dan Brown adaptation, but the storyline too often wavers between implausible and ridiculous, and does not translate effectively to the big screen." Instead, we're watching it because Tom Hanks is a nice guy and I would choose a movie based on his presence in it almost every time. Come to think of it, I feel that way about Michael Caine and Denzel Washington, too.

As for "the big screen", we naively anticipated that a flat screen TV, which is wider than it is tall, would take care of the annoying partial screen effect of most DVD movies these days. Not. But at least I can fidget and do other things besides just watch the screen, and that trumps the skinny movie problem.

I am sneaking this list of Books of Interest into this blog entry so I don't lose it completely. I'll start again with books sometime... but for now, I'm parking my old list here.

Books of Interest (to me, at least!)

• The Thirteenth Tale, by Diane Setterfield. (I'm not done reading this book yet... and I hope it never ends! It's deliciously intriguing because of the somewhat-interwoven story lines, unusual characters, and fine writing.)
• Bold Spirit: Helga Estby's Forgotten Walk Across Victorian America, by Linda Hunt. (Teresa, I think you might like this book for its content. The writing is not very good--Hunt must have lost her editor somewhere along Helga and Clara's walk. Canby is mentioned at least a dozen times, probably more. Okay that might be in part because of Hunt's weird way of repeating parts of the story multiple times, but nonetheless, it's Canby. Helga and her daughter walked across the country from Spokane to NY City to earn a cash prize of $10,000 so Helga could save her family's farm. Ole, her husband, had some health problems that kept him from earning a viable living for the family, so Helga took the challenge. This was in the 1890's. Women just didn't do that kind of thing, you know. Despite uneven writing, this true account of Helga's journey is worth reading. Even if a bird poops on you when you get to the final chapter.)
• Olive Kitteridge, by Elizabeth Strout. (I had such a good description of this book written to entice you to read it. I lost it, and so all I'm going to say is that this is an EXCELLENT book. The title character, Olive, is in each of the twelve or so stories that make up the book. She has a major role in some stories, smaller parts in others, and in a couple of them she doesn't do much more than walk through a room. I love this book!)
• The Zookeeper's Wife: A War Story, by Diane Ackerman
• The Tender Bar, by J.R. Mohringer.
• The Painted Drum, by Louise Erdrich. (I just wrote and then lost a long and detailed review of this book. Trust me, you'd have enjoyed it and nominated me for a position as a NY Times book reviewer. I don't repeat my reviewed under these circumstances, so read it and judge for yourself.)
• Sundays at Tiffany's, by Robert Patterson and a co-author who shall remain nameless. (Don't bother unless you had an adult imaginary friend when you were a child and can explain to me how this is not perverse. The book isn't perverse, however. Just poorly developed and, well...stupid.)
• Mr. White's Confession, by Robert Clark (One of the best books I've read in a very long time. That it opens in a White Castle in St. Paul (in 1939) gave me pause, but I soon realized that many other St. Paul locations are featured in the story. Mr. White is a loner, sad-seeming, and has a quirky memory that allows him to remember the near past, but not beyond a short period of time. He writes everything down in journals to read and reread, thus salvaging bits of life. He's a photographer hobbyist, so his photos add glimmers to his memory. There's a murder, another murder, and White is the most likely suspect. A police detective with a sad life of his own takes an interest in White, and their lives intersect over many years. Excellent writing and a lot to think about.)
• Run, by Ann Patchett (I tend to avoid books that promise to show me the true meaning of family, or of friendship, or of being best girlfriends forever--you know, that sincere kind of crap that tugs at the heartstrings. After the fact I discovered that RUN is supposed to encompass all of those things. I suppose it does, but it's good anyway. Prominent characters are Tip Doyle (named after Eugene "Tip" O'Neill), Teddy Doyle (not named after Edward "Teddy" Kennedy), Tennessee Moser (2 characters with this name; it gets confusing), Kenya (daughter of one of the Tennessees), Sullivan Doyle (named after his uncle, Father Sullivan), and Mr. Doyle (a former mayor of Boston). Oh, let's not forget Bernadette Doyle, the deceased mother of Tip, Teddy, and Sullivan, who looks like a statue of the Virgin Mary. There is mother confusion in this story, Virgin Mary confusion, and a lot of snow. Good book despite my underwhelming review.)
• Sarah’s Key, by Tatiana De Rosnay (A compelling story set in Paris during World War II. Sarah, a young Jewish girl and her parents are taken by the French police in what has come to be known as the Vel’ d’ Hiv’ Roundup, leaving her brother behind. She is haunted by abandoning her brother in what was an attempt to save him, and eventually her story is intertwined with that of an American magazine journalist who lives in Paris and has been assigned to write an article commemorating the 60th anniversary of the roundup. Sarah’s part of the story is mesmerizing. The book would be much improved without Julia (the journalist).)
• Empire Falls, by Richard Russo (Okay, I haven't added a book for a while. This is partly due to not reading so much lately, and partly due to so-so books. Russo's novel snapped me out of a dry spell. I highly recommend it, and not just because the lead character is named Miles. Russo's characters have dimension and color, and his stories are rich with detail and subtle humor. My only minor complaint about this book is Russo's smack-you-right-between-the-eyes use of foreshadowing. Too, too obvious, to the point that I was looking for it. To the end I really believed he intended the Hobart (a large restaurant dish-washing machine) to suck someone into its innards and wash him to death. Russo must have mentioned the poorly functioning Hobart a half-dozen times in semi-ominous tones, giving me the impression that it was the evil younger sibling of Stephen King's fictional car, Christine. However, somtimes a dishwasher is just a dishwasher.)
• Slam, by Nick Hornby (Recommended and loaned to me by Charlie and Angie, this is the story of 16-year-old Sam, who becomes a father before he's ready for the responsibility. He was born when his mom wsa 16, which adds interest. Sam is a skater, as in skate board skater, and confides in a poster of celebrity skater Tony Hawkes, and visits the future via dreams to envision the outcome of being a not-ready-for-parenthood dad. It's a good story from a point of view not often used for this topic (teen pregnancy, not skating). Hornby is British, and so are his characters, so the slang and some conventional language perked up my ears from time to time. Makes me want to read more of Hornby's novels. Thanks, APP and CP!).
• Breaking Dawn, by Stephenie Meyer (This is the final book of the Twilight series, so so the author says. All I'll say about this book--to prevent spoiling it for anyone who might be reading the series--is that most, if not all, of your wonderings will be answered. This includes the BIG QUESTION: Does Bella become a vampire or not? You'll have to read it to find out. I'm fairly sure I'm at the upper age limit of anyone who would read Meyer's books (right Deb, Mary, and Kris?), so I'm anxious to read reviews and comments by other readers to find out what they think of the final events of the saga. I've avoided all of that until now, not wanting to be influenced in my predictions. I'll write more about the series in a blog when my book group and Angie are done reading the last book.)
• Eclipse, by Stephenie Meyer (See below. Oh lordy, I'm actually done with the third book of this series and starting #4. This one is definitely better than New Moon (book #2), but still too much mindless adoration of Edward on Bella's part. I'm voting for Jacob. Edward can take his vampirish good looks elsewhere.)
• In the Woods, by Tana French (Oooh, good murder mystery! Two imperfect main characters, both detectives, agonize over solving the death of a young girl.)
• Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer (See 7/31 post for confession.)
• Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger's, by John Elder Robison (Robison is author Augusten Burrough's "big, lumbering, swearing, unshaven" older brother. This memoir reveals a life both plagued and assisted by Asperger's; funny, sad, poignant, and great reading.)
• The Jawbone, by Matthew Beier (This book is not yet published. Matthew is a mid-20's aspiring author who is a friend of a friend. This is a mystery story, with good guys (male and female), bad guys, ghosts, and the angst of becoming a teenager. Can't wait for Matthew Beier to be published!)
• The Green Glass Sea by Ellen Klages (This book, like the following two on my list, is an historical novel set during WW II. This story is set in Los Alamos, NM, on "the Hill", where scientists worked on the atomic bomb. Worth reading.)
• The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, by John Boyne (Adolescent novel. Story is told through the innocent eyes of a young German boy whose father is a commander at Auschwitz. Gripping.)
• The Book Thief, by Markus Zusac (don't miss reading this one!)
• Little Heathens, by Mildred Armstrong Kalish
• Atonement, by Ian McEwan
• Book of the Dead, by Patricia Cornwell
• Born Sanding Up, by Steve Martin
• Uglies; Pretties; Specials (trilogy for adolescent readers)by Scott Westerfield. Also, Extras. That makes the trilogy a quartet. Or a quadrology.
• Blind Your Ponies, by Stanley Gordon West
• Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J. K. Rowling
• Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen
• Falling Boy, by Alison McGhee
• Rise and Shine, by Anna Quindlen
• Blessings, by Anna Quindlen
• The Double Bind, by Chris Bohjalian