The long dark tea-time of industrial stereotypes

My mind sometimes goes in strange places.  Yes, if you read my blog often, you probably already know that.  But I thought I'd warn you anyway. 

Joe and I really like the movie Joe vs the Volcano.  I, just because it's fun.  Joe, because he collects pop culture trivia like other people collect vinyl albums s or ceramic chickens.  He loves all the references in Joe vs the Volcano, to the old silent classic, Metropolis.  That's a little bit too academic for my movie viewing habits.  After sitting through many conversations with Joe and consequently also with others about the above movies, I can understand the connections between the two.  But even had I been previously familiar with Metropolis I can't say I would have noticed any of it on my own.

But give me a book and I can often find some strange and unusual connections between one book and another.  Sometimes obviously intentional, other times subtle enough it makes one wonder. 

Several years back, I was totally immersed in the fictional world of Stephanie Plum.  If you've been reading my blog that long, you already know this, too, since I blogged about little ideas, thoughts, excerpts, from those books quite often during that time. 

In the Janet Evanovich book, To the Nines, there is a description of industrial labor that reflects the same themes that the above movies highlight.  That kind of sickly green and gray, sea of industrial despond, lemmings following their company, trapped fatalism kind of mood. 

I have a friend who works for GM.  I don't really know or understand what he does except it has something to do with operating the machines that shape the metal parts for some part of some one or several cars.  But when he talks about his job, he periodically uses words like sheet metal stamping and die casting or trimming, or machine tooling.   Such words always conjure up for me industrial/work-a day wasteland stereotypes such as those in Joe vs. Volcano and Metropolis.

The following sections from To the Nines humorously describe this same mood.  Our heroine, the tenacious bond recovery agent, Stephanie Plum, is investigating the disappearance of Samuel Singh, an employee of TriBro Tech, maker of ... well, ... little things.  In order to get some answers, she fills in as a temporary replacement for Singh at TriBro.

    "I'm not even sure what you make here. "  

    "We make little things. Machine-tooled gears and locks. Singh's job primarily consisted of measuring minutia. Each part we supply must be perfect. The first day onboard you wouldn't be expected to know much." He reached for his phone and his mouth tipped into a small smile. "Let's see how good you are at bluffing. "
      Ten minutes later I was a genuine bogus TriBro employee, following after Andrew, learning about TriBro Tech. The gears and locks that composed the bulk of TriBro's product were made at workstations housed in a large warehouse-type facility adjoining the reception area and offices. The far end of the warehouse was divided off into a long room where the quality control work was done. Windows looked into the interior. In the entire facility there were no windows looking out. The quality control area consisted of a series of cubbies with built-in tables, shelves, and cabinets. The tables held an odd assortment of weights, measures, machine torture devices, and chemicals. A single worker occupied each of the tables. There were seven people in the quality control area. And there was one unoccupied table. Singh's table.
      Andrew introduced me to the area supervisor, Ann Klimmer, and returned to his office. Ann took me table by table and introduced me to the rest of the team. The women were in their thirties and forties. There were two men. One of the men was Asian. Singh would have gravitated to the Asian, I thought. But the women would warm to me faster.

      After the introductions and an overview lecture on the operation, I was partnered with Jane Locarelli. Jane looked like she'd just rolled off an embalming table. She was late forties, rail thin, and drained of color. Even her hair was faded. She spoke in a monotone, never making eye contact, her words slightly slurred as if the effort of speech was too much to manage.
      "I've worked here for thirty-one years, " she said. "I started working for the senior Cones. Right out of high school. "
      No wonder she looked like a walking cadaver. Thirty-one years under fluorescent lights, measuring and torturing little metal doohickeys. Jeez.
      Jane hitched herself up onto a stool and selected a small gear from a huge barrel of small gears. "We do two kinds of testing here. We do random testing of new product. " She sent me an apologetic grimace. "I'm afraid that's a little tedious. " She

displayed the gear she held in her hand. "And we test parts which have failed and been returned. That sort of testing is much more interesting. Unfortunately, today we're testing new product. "
      Jane carefully measured each part of the gear and examined it under a microscope for flaws. When she was done, she reached into the barrel and selected another gear. I had to bite back a groan. Two gears down. Three thousand gears to go.
      "I heard Singh didn't show up for work one day, " I said, going for casual curious. "Was he unhappy with the job?"
      "Not sure, " Jane said, concentrating on the new gear. "He wasn't very talkative. " After extensive measuring, she decided the gear was okay and went on to a third.
      "Would you like to try one?" she asked.
      "Sure. "
      She handed the gear over and showed me how to measure.
      "Looks good to me, " I said after doing the measuring thing.
      "No, " she said, "it's off on one side. See the little burr on the edge of the one cog?" Jane took the gear from me, filed the side, and measured again. "Maybe you should just watch a while longer, " she said.
      I watched Jane do four more gears and my eyes glazed over and some drool oozed from between my lips. I quietly slid from my stool and moved to the next cubicle.
      Dolly Freedman was also testing new gears. Dolly would drink some coffee and measure. Then she'd drink more coffee and perform another test. She was as thin and as pale as Jane, but not as lifeless. She was cranked on coffee. "This is such a b#%!t job, " Dolly said to me. She looked around. "Anyone watching?" she asked. Then she took a handful of gears and dumped them into the perfect gear bucket. "They looked good to me, " she said. Then she drank more coffee. 

After another page or two of questioning the employees, while making her way around the room, we return to Stephanie's Metropolis.

      I drifted over to Edgar's table mid-afternoon. Edgar was dropping acid on a small metal bar with threads at either end. One drop at a time. Drip, wait, and measure. Drip, wait, and measure. Drip, wait, and measure. There had to be a thousand bars waiting to be tortured. Nothing was happening. This job made watching grass grow look exciting.
      "We're testing a new alloy, " Edgar said.
       "This seems more interesting than the gear measuring. "
      "Only for the first two million bars. After that, it's pretty routine. "

I love the imagery.  From my writer's eye, this is great stuff.

start with the basics, ... "Machine-tooled gears and locks."

and this one, ... "Windows looked into the interior. In the entire facility there were no windows looking out."  Do we need to know that.  Nope, but it gets into a reader's brain.  Imagine a Vincent Price type voice, "No windows looking out."

and the description of the tools, ... "The tables held an odd assortment of weights, measures, machine torture devices, and chemicals."  Tools one might find in an interrogation room.  Tools that evoke images of pillory and thumbscrews.

then the description of what such an environment does to someone, "Jane looked like she'd just rolled off an embalming table. She was late forties, rail thin, and drained of color. Even her hair was faded. She spoke in a monotone, never making eye contact, her words slightly slurred as if the effort of speech was too much to manage."  And further, "No wonder she looked like a walking cadaver. Thirty-one years under fluorescent lights, measuring and torturing little metal doohickeys."  Remember the green lights in Joe vs the Volcano?  Forever "suck, suck, suck..." -ing the life out of the employees.


And this one.  This is probably my favorite, "I watched Jane do four more gears and my eyes glazed over and some drool oozed from between my lips. I quietly slid from my stool and moved to the next cubicle."

I know I get excited about strange things, but really, just the word combinations in those sentences.  After the drool oozed from her lips, she slid  from her chair.  When we finish the second sentence, we know she was simply getting up to do her investigating thing.  But at the beginning of the sentence, with the words, "I quietly slid from my chair," we wonder for an instant if Stephanie simply slid into a puddle of gelatinous goo on the floor of the plant, never to be seen or heard from again. 

So anyway, here's to you, Dave (and all who work in repetitious jobs.)  I really, really hope your work is not at all like this. 

I think probably most work is not.  I think any work might be.  But no work ought to be.  The image that life loses all value in the industrial or other repetitious setting is an atheistic fallacy.  A temptation of Satan to lead us to discontent or even despair.

Any God-given task that is repeated daily can feel monotonous, whether it's industrial, academic, agricultural, or maternal.  But all are of intrinsic value.  God places us in our many vocations to serve the people in our lives.  To be of service to them.  Ultimately, to share His Word of Salvation with them.  But more immediately, to help and serve them in whatever way we can. 

... Even when our vocational walls feel green and the fluorescent lights of our daily work seem to be sucking the life out of us.

Rain, Glorious Rain!

We need rain so badly that several of the area cattle ranchers are finding their water holes going dry. Our water table is normally so high here, that if one has a large amount of livestock, he digs a big, deep pit called a cattle pit or cow pit or cow pond.  The pit fills in nicely and the cattle gather around the edges to drink and wander into it here and there.   Sometimes children swim in the cattle pits.  But I suspect that was mostly in the old days before we had so many experts to tell us that these pits might have germs.  Really?  Germs?  In standing water where cows pee and poop?  Good thing we have the experts.

But, alas! I digress.  These cattle pits are drying up this year.  One neighbor dug a new pit in a different location after his usual one dried up (think bulldozer and backhoe, 8-15 ft deep) and couldn't find water at all. Usually the water is only a couple of feet down.

But blessedly, praise the Lord, I woke up to the sound of a good heavy rain spattering on the house and flowing, gurglingly, through the downspouts.  

I instantly had a version of the song, "Food, Glorious Food," from the musical, Oliver, stuck in my head.  Instead of "Food," I was singing, "Rain, Glorious Rain!"



Who knows where such things come from?  I've never even seen Oliver.  Nor do I know any of the words to the song except "Food, Glorious Food."  Nor did I even know it was from that particular musical.  It was just a refrain stuck in my head.  

After I got up, I put on my bathrobe and went out on my front porch to stand in the falling rain.  I let it drizzle on my head, and bluster past and around me.  It was indeed glorious.  

Then the lightening struck a few times in the distance, so I figured I ought to come inside.  The thunder was not following it too closely, so I was probably safe.  But I remembered the exhortations of those experts, and how we are warned about the great many miles lightning can travel.  So I pulled myself away from the experience and came inside.

I might just as well have had "Singing in the Rain" stuck in my head.  But no, that's not how brains work. We take what we get in that regard.

I didn't exactly go out and dance around in the puddles like Gene Kelly, but I did find great pleasure in wiggling my toes in the little bit of standing water on my front porch.

 
We didn't get as much rain or as deep of puddles as the character, Don Lockwood, did in the movie, but we got some.  It's a start.  The forecast calls for more the rest of the day and into tomorrow.  I pray God sees fit to bless us as forecasted.  We do need it.

A Tale of Three Joshes

I am luxuriating right now in a little free time.  Really free.  I am at the library in Thief River Falls working on a few personal computer projects.  At least that's what I'm supposed to be doing.  But I got a little sidetracked.  Any surprises there? 

It all started when, as I was setting my laptop and purse, etc, on the library table, I glanced at the magazine rack directly adjacent to it.  No, let me back up.  First, I was looking around at the quilts hanging above the library in the Theif River Falls Quilters Guild's annual quilt show.  I don't get to this library very often, but I'm always pleasantly surprised when I happen upon the quilt show.  These lovely quilts will be on display the entire month of April.  Come and look if you get a chance.

My admiration of the quilts led me to thoughts of appreciation for the TRF library.  Generally I use the Red Lake Falls library, and I love it for many reasons, not the least of which is the friendship I enjoy with the librarian there.  But this morning, I was feeling thankful for the library here in TRF.  So I was glancing around at all the many things they have to offer, and taking time to really notice things.

Brolin as James Hickok

Well, confessions be made, I couldn't help but notice the cover of the current issue of the Wall Street Journal Magazine on which Josh Brolin, one of my current favorite actors, gazes soberly (and yes, handsomely) at all passersby.  I first discovered Brolin while on a recent kick of watching the 1989 television series, The Young Riders, on hulu.  The show is an fun mix of fantasy and historical fiction.  It is set in the wild west, which is an immediate draw for me.  I have plans to feature it in a future post, so I'm not going to let myself get sidetracked talking about it here.  Because I loved the characters in the show so much, and because I had never heard of most of them, I did a bit of research on their lives and work.  And I requested some movies from the library which featured some of these men and women.

It was fun to see Brolin on a magazine cover begging me to pick it up and scan the article.  The article was mostly fluff.  The usual fare of Brolin's "rugged good looks", and the "layers of depth" he manages to bring to his characters.  I'm not discounting either of those things, mind you.  It's just that I've read many articles about Josh Brolin in the last several months and they all say pretty much the same thing.  This article, too, didn't included much new information.   But there was this little quote that lends some further detail to the frequent assertion that he embraces his ranch upbringing; and that he and his wife, actress Diane Lane, attempt to eschew the Hollywood glitz mentality.

...and he [Brolin] chauffeurs himself around in a black Dodge Ram--the latest in a series of pickups.  (This sounds so dumb," he says, "but I really love my truck.") 

I know many people who can appreciate that sentiment.

As I was putting the Wall Street Journal Magazine away, my eyes fell upon a second Josh, one with whose musical talents I've only recently become familiar.  Josh Turner looked out from the cover of Cambria Style with his friendly and somewhat mischievous smile.  So I had to pick that up, too.

I know nothing about Cambria Style.  The only Cambria I know of is a little town in southern Minnesota, along the Minnesota River between New Ulm and Mankato.  That Cambria, incidentally, is famous for the hamburgers served at the local bar and grill.  But I'm pretty sure that they don't have their own magazine.  Perhaps they ought to.

I get the impression that the Cambria Style magazine is about interior decorating.  It seems to feature articles that highlight products made by Cambria, and weave them into human interest type stories.

The particular human interest angle of the article in which Josh Turner takes center stage, celebrates the history the Grand Old Opry, and accounts its restoration after the devastating 2010 flooding in Nashville and its surrounds.  The restoration included Cambria counter-tops in the dressing rooms, hence the inclusion in Cambria Style. 

Josh Turner and the Opry seating

But the Josh Turner angle is what drew me into the article.  Turner credits his December 2001 appearance at the Opry for launching him to stardom.  He sang Long Black Train not once but twice, as he was sent back onstage after a standing ovation to sing it again.  In 2009, at the age of 29, Turner was inducted as a full time member of the Opry, becoming it's youngest member ever. 

"I just love how you can go there and hear a lot of different styles of country music and hear artists from a lot of different eras and get a picture of what country music really is," Turner says. But he also notes that being a member of the Opry is about giving back to the institution and the fans that helped to launch his career. "I was extremely honored to have that bestowed upon me so soon. But I knew then and I still know now that being committed to playing a show like the Opry requires a lot of responsibility."

But I titled this post a Tale of Three Joshes.  The first title that flitted through my head was something about two favorite Joshes.  But I couldn't do that because there is another Josh who is infinitely more dear to my heart than either of the pop cultures stars mentioned above. 

A young man in our church, Josh B., captures the spot of my favorite Josh.  (I did have to think through to make sure none of my many nieces, nephews  or God-children were named Josh before I could make such a claim.  But I'm safe there.  One of my best friends has a son who carries this name.  But I don't see this friend very often.  I have only seen that Josh once in his life, so although I love him vicariously, I can't say he's a true favorite.)

But I've seen Josh B. grow from a little three year old boy, to a fine junior high aged young man.

When we moved to this area ten years ago, Josh B. was one of my daughter, Clara's, first playmates.  He bought a cool cowboy vest at a second hand store once that he through he could use for their wedding.  (Sorry, Josh, I just had to include that little story.)

Josh falls in age almost exactly between two of my girls, Clara and Elsie, so as he got a little older, his friendship shifted to Elsie for a time.  But then the kids grew up even more, and it became uncool for a growing boy to play with girls. 

About the same time as his friendship with my girls began to wane, however, I started teaching Josh's class in Sunday school, so I still had a personal tie to his life.  I think I had the privilege of teaching his class for three years.  One of the great blessings of teaching Sunday school is getting to know the congregation's children more intimately.  The children in Josh's class were all fantastic kids, and I enjoyed each of them them immensely. 

I've been thinking much about Josh lately.  Last fall Josh's oldest brother, Jake, died.  Our congregation is still mourning his loss.  My family is mourning his loss, because among other reasons, he was my son Matt's best friend.  I am amazed at how suddenly the painful thoughts can overtake me.

But I know that the pain and sadness I feel can be nothing compared to that which his immediate and extended family are learning to deal with.  I know and you know that Jake is at home with his Father and his Brother.  But I also know that you still suffer.  I pray for you all continuing healing, and increasing peace. 

The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.  (II Corinthians 13:14)

Arranged: Three Takes

Last night I watched the movie, Arranged, by Cicala Filmworks, starring Zoe Lister-Jones and Francis Benhamou.  The film pleased me very much on an emotional level; but at an intellectual level it gave me many things to think about.



As far as appealing to the senses, this film is a prize. It it beautiful. The actors and actresses are lovely to look upon, and excellently cast.  The settings, too are wonderful.  And not just beautiful, but bleak, lonely, uncomfortable, confused, according to need. The visual touches coincide perfectly with the various aspects of the plot.

The primary story line is based upon the true story of an Orthodox Jewish teacher in Brooklyn, who develops a close friendship with a devout Islamic woman, the mother of one of her students.  In the movie, the friendship is similar.  But in the film, both young women, Rochel and Nasira, are teachers in a Brooklyn public school.  The women share the obvious bond of living within a traditional societal system, and yet also participating in the mainstream world.   But it soon becomes apparent that they have another thing in common.  The parents of both young women are in the process of finding a match for their daughters.

After I watched the move, my mind was spinning with contradictions.  Firstly, I loved the movie!  Besides the beauty of the movie, I loved the respect shown to those of traditional lifestyle.  Although we have few blatant religious rules that dictate such a lifestyle, we do choose rules for our family that are more traditional than many.  I have many friends who have chosen a much more traditional lifestyle than we have.  I have Lutheran Christian acquaintances who even now discuss the merits of arranged marriage and encourage the idea that marriage is bigger than in individual choice. 

We don't allow our children to "date."  We've tried to teach them that dating ought to be a way of finding someone to marry, not just passing time socially with a peer of the opposite gender.  In that light, it is to be reserved for people of a certain maturity, and participated in only by those who are ready for marriage and actively looking for a spouse.  And their behavior during the process ought to reflect a respect for the goal of finding a Godly spouse. 

I very much appreciated the respect shown by the producers of Arranged to not only a traditional lifestyle, but toward religion itself and devout people of faith.

I liked the stereotyped personality of the principle.  She was quite one-dimensional, which in general detracts from a production.  But by including such a personality, but the film was able to encapsulate in a short amount of time, the kind of pressures and bigotry against which people of traditional lifestyles and strongly held religious convictions stand, and the insulting attitudes to which they are routinely subjected.

However, as I thought more about the film, and tried to set the emotional appeal aside in order to really think about the movie, there were a few things I didn't like.

OK, here comes a big paragraph of statement insurance.  I don't want anyone to think I'm claiming any kind of expertise in this.  These are just some thoughts based on the limited experiences I've accumulated and the somewhat eclectic reading I've done.  I realize I live a fairly sheltered life, in the sense that I've mostly lived in homogeneous communities.  When I have lived in more multicultural areas, it was years ago.  And I've never lived in an ultra-urban, mixed city like Brooklyn.

However, I found the movie to be a little bit more pro-Muslim than pro-Jewish.  Not outside of what might be considered normal character sketches.  It's entirely possible that the producers simply chose two kinds of family  personality and two kinds of individual personality and randomly assigned them.  But this bent was noticeable enough that it made me question the motives of the producers.  While Nasira was very confident and comfortable in her own skin, Rochel was reserved, sometimes to the point of social awkwardness.  Nasira's family seemed mostly comfortable with the friendship between these two girls, whereas Rochel's family could not accept it (it appeared to have more to do with the social risk to Rochel's marital prospects than to any innate bias against Muslims; ie, what would the neighbors think?).

I don't have much first hand experience with either of these people groups, so perhaps the cultures are accurately portrayed.  I'm finding it difficult to express my concerns without engaging in judgement based upon mere stereotypes, which is exactly the sort of thing the movie seems to stand against. 

The Witherspoon Institute conservative thinktank in Princeton, NJ, gave the film a positive write-up in, "Arranged: Happily Wholesome in a Brooklyn World".

New York Times movie reviewer, Jeannette Catoulis, reflected what I believe to be a rather typical contemporary lack of understanding  toward traditional religion and traditional lifestyle choices in "Teachers United".

But I read some of the variety of comments on the New York Times article.  I think they capture some of my mixed thoughts on the movie.  Comment #14 reflects perfectly why I enjoyed the film.

Comment #17 reflects some of my negative instincts about the film. The commenter here seems more extreme and vitriolic in his opinion than I feel.  But I can see the validity in some of his concerns.  In fact, I had noticed several of them myself.  I think the commenter goes too far; but the film does seem somewhat self-conscious in its mainstream portrayal of the Muslim family.

Most of my discomfort with this film stems from an issue I have read and written about in the past.  We in our western world, however multicultural we like to think we are, always run into a catch-22 with the religion of Islam.  When discussing a film about intercultural relationships, and respect for differences, a person feels somewhat shallow or calloused taking stand against a certain culture.  But that is the exact dilemma our multicultural, global world cannot escape with Islam.

Extreme Christianity is often compared to strict Islam.  But there is a significant difference.  The violent element of what might be called extreme Christianity, is outside of a true Biblical perspective and therefore marginalized.  Whereas in Islam, the most extreme elements are those who are most faithful to the original intent of the religion.  I have only a cursory familiarity with any Islamic people at this time in my life, although I have known a few previously, well enough to engage in polite conversation, but not really know them.  But I have read and studied the religion quite a bit, including several books written by people both currently within Islam and also former Muslims, who live in fear of their lives because of leaving their religion.  My husband has read the Koran several times and has assured me that the violence espoused by the most extreme factions of Islam, and by the main of Islam during the Middle ages, is in fact very much in line with the teachings in the Koran.

The truest interpretation of Islam's holy writings demand either the destruction of or conversion of anyone outside itself.  The religion also allows for adherents to punish its followers who are not ardent enough.  And Islam also allows its followers to lie to anyone who is not Islamic.  That leaves those of us outside the religion at a decided disadvantage in understanding, and in bridging any cultural divides.

I am not saying here that a woman like Arranged's Nasira, or a family like hers, could not exist.  I'm trying to show an intrinsic difficulty with it.  There are many Islamic families that do not support the extreme elements of the religion.  But they are in danger if they are too obvious about their dislike of it.  In many areas they cannot safely be too friendly with those outside their religion.  There are individuals and families each year, especially in Islamic countries, but even in the West, who are persecuted through physical, emotional, and economic means for being too accepting of other people and ideas.  It happens.

And simply because of the permission within the tenets of the religion to lie to those they consider infidels, a person outside Islam who has interaction with an Islamic family or individual, can never be confident that what they are seeing is the true face of Islam, or of the individuals with whom they are acquainted.

In our multicultural, global world, we like to think we can all just get along, but the very essence of the religion of Islam is so far removed from our western ideas that I'm not altogether sure that particular bridge can be crossed.

For a look at true Islam and it's difficulties in the West, see Cruel and Usual Punishment, by Nonie Darwish, and Infidel, by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. Both books also highlight the violent nature of Islam in Islamic countries.  Saved by her Enemy is another book that shows the danger to Muslims who are too friendly toward those outside the religion.  There are many others with first hand experience who have written on this subject, but these are three books that I found very compelling.

Joe has read several things by Bet Ye'or, and highly recommends them.

How do I Love Thee, Summer Mornings? Let Me Count the Ways

My Corner Bed

This morning I got up with Great Expectations of how my morning would go.  I was going to do pilates first thing.  Then before the kids were up, I was going to go for a quick run. 

After that I was going to put some sort of hot breakfast in the oven and while it baked I intended to enjoy a quick cup of coffee on my front porch.

Then to feed the kids and get everyone dressed and ready for church at 11:00.

Most people don't prefer 11:00 church during the summer.  But I don't mind it.  I love to relax and enjoy my summer mornings.  And since my husband works until 12:30 every Sunday, it's not like we're rushing off to the lake or the relatives or anything.  Not to mention I have quite a number of kids to get ready for church and the more time I have to accomplish that, the better.

Now you remember my Great Expectations?  Here's what really happened.

I got up and decided that since my eyes were still mostly closed, instead of clicking on the pilates icon on my computer, I'd just check my facebook quick.  Since nothing much ever happens on facebook early on a Sunday morning, I figured I was pretty safe.  But then I decided to also check my e-mail.  Also generally pretty safe on a Sunday morning.

But then, shame on you, Mary! I remembered I hadn't blogged about our parish VBS yet and I wanted to do that while the kids were asleep, so I could think clearly.  But my computer was being temperamental and everything took waaaaaay looooonger than it ought to have.  I did eventually finish the post, but by then I had kids up clamouring for breakfast, so I decided not to proofread and post it yet.

Only the little kids were up, so I gave them a little pre-breakfast snack of nuts and raisins.  I poured myself a cup of coffee in my cool mug that I only use when I need a quick cup, because although it is very cool, it does not keep the coffee hot at all.  I thought to myself that this cup would make a cool blog post, so I had to arrange it on the table and try to take several pictures to get the best shot.  (Have I mentioned before I'm not really much of a photographer?)

By the time I was done with my little photo shoot, the coffee was pretty much already cold.  Well, at least ready to drink immediately.  I took it out to my front porch without any reading material and decided to simply enjoy the Summer Morning Show.  I listened to my turkey sing.  I saw a red headed woodpecker swooping about before he decided on a tree upon which to land.  I looked at all the pots of flowers and admired how they were finally filling in and beginning to blossom prolificly.  I plucked a few spent blooms from the pots nearest me.

And I quickly slurped down my coffee before it could get any cooler.

Then, well, since I drank the first cup so quickly, I still had time for a second.  I came in for a refill, and then out I went again.  I sat down on my wicker, but only for a minute.  I just couldn't sit and look.  Remember how Maria in The Sound of Music couldn't ever stay in the convent when the hills were calling to her?  She had to out among them.  I had to go down and admire my other pots and flower beds.  I had to deadhead the various plants to ensure continued blooming.  I had to wander in the dewy morning grass. And pull a few weeds while the soil was still in its morning dampness.  I had to be out in the morning!

Who can sit on wicker with a cup of coffee when all the summer morning delights are waiting?

And calling.

And suddenly it's time to get everyone up for church.  The sluggardly teens are still sleeping and it's nearly 10:00.  There is no hot breakfast in the oven.  The little ones who were outside enjoying the summer morning in their own way, now need to be cleaned up for church again.

And what am I doing?   Writing on a blog about summer mornings.  Crazy lady!

Guilty Pleasure Films on MPR's Midday

While I was running errands last Friday, I tuned in to public radio and was treated to some very fun radio fare. Minnesota Public Radio's Movie Maven, Stephanie Curtis, joined the show to talk about Guilty Pleasure Films.  She defined those as films we love to watch, so much so we'd drop almost anything to do it; we could watch them any number of times and never tire of them; and they are the kind of film we might be embarrassed to admit we love.

It's worth your time while doing dishes or laundry, or whatever, to give the show a listen using the above link.  (One of the great things about public radio is that many of their shows are available to listen to on-line, so you can do fact-checking later, or finish a show you only heard part of, or re-listen to something that was especially good.)

Ms Curtis's five favorite Guilty Pleasure Films: The Spanish Main, Footloose, Enough, How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, and Urban Cowboy.

Besides Ms Curtis's choices, listeners shared their Guilty Pleasures Films, and the Movie Maven and show host Gary Eichten commented on the various films mentioned.  I had heard of relatively few of them, but really enjoyed the descriptions and the comments.  I found myself laughing out loud at some spots.  Good thing I was driving along typically unoccupied stretches of highway, or other drivers may have thought me a bit touched.
What are your Guilty Pleasure Films?


I'll confess my Guilty Pleasure Film.  But first a little statement insurance.  I'm not a really big move watcher, so I don't have too extensive a repertoire.  And probably my ideas of guilty or embarrassing might differ from the general populace.  But I have to say that When Harry Met Sally is one of my all time favorite films.  I love it for the humor, Harry's and Sally's growth as the movie progresses, the sweetness, and I even totally get the underlying idea that it's difficult (impossible?) for men and women to be friends.

So why the guilt or embarrassment?  At the end, when they..., well..., you know... When I can't whole heartedly share a favorite film with my kids, I have to consider it guilty.  Is this overly sensitive?  Or common sense?  I did finally check it out at the library a few months ago.  I hadn't seen it for years, and was kind of craving seeing it again.   I still really enjoyed it.  Maybe even more than before.  And I could even almost justify the pleasure by saying, "Yes, they may have..., well..., you know..., but they suffered for it; it nearly ruined their friendship.  It shows that the well..., you know..., is not something to be used to ease pain or to be taken lightly."  I could probably have made a life lesson out of it.  But I didn't.  I watched it alone.  It was my late night treat one evening while waiting to pick Matt up after a track meet.

To bring the post back around to the MPR show, by the time it was over, I had accumulated quite an extensive list of films to request from the library.  Since the library was the second stop on my  day's junket, I made a mental note regarding a few of the movies, hopeful I'd remember enough to find them in the library catalogue.  Of course by the time I got there, most of my mental notes had hidden away in the dark recesses of my mind.  Not to worry, however.  Google is a wonderful thing.  I remembered just enough to search for, "documentary, Kennedy, garden, sisters," and found Grey Gardens, a documentary film about two reclusive relatives of Jackie Kennedy Onassis, that sounds very fun.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that Grey Gardens was available at several of the libraries in our regional catalogue system.  I see now, with a quick check to my online account that it is in transit from Moorhead, and should be available for me to pick up in Red Lake Falls on Thursday, my library day.  Can you tell I love libraries, too?

Now all I have to do is find time before Thursday to finish watching Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, which my librarian has kindly renewed for me about five times.

If I Were a Wealthy Man

Perhaps I've posted this video previously.  Sorry, if it's a repeat.  Mentioning it it the previous post made me want to see it.

Emotional Malaise Due to Fiction of Medical Compromisation

Did that title make any sense at all?  Hopefully it will when I'm done venting my angst.

Did you ever read a book or see a movie that left you feeling icky afterwards?  Over the weekend I read Tess Gerritsen's Harvest.  Throughout the day today, I would recall some aspect of the troubling plot and would suddenly feel sad.

There are some genres of literature I avoid because of the intensity of the suspense or the goriness of the story line or the graphically violent or s*xual descriptions.  This book does not really fall into any of those categories.  I would call this story a thriller of medical ethics.  It is realistic enough that the possibility of a situation similar to that described in this plot seems plausible.

I don't like stories that imply that someone into whose hands I may at some point need to lay my life might be immersed in unethical behavior.  When a person is unconscious or in a compromised condition, they ought to be able to trust those into whose care they are surrendered.  I don't like to be reminded of the human nature of caregivers.  I don't want to know about the possibility that some health care provider may make a decision for a patient's care based on things other than the patient's best interest.

Unfortunately I saw the movie, Kill Bill, at the theater with my husband.  (Yes, he likes those comic strip-ish martial arts movies, but that would be another story.)  There was a situation in that movie that left me similarly saddened and unsettled.  The heads getting chopped off didn't both me.  That part was obviously fictitious.  But the behavior of the hospital personnel was realistically heinous.  Ick Yuck.  People ought to have peace of mind that their care during times of physical compromise is above board.

The Dancer

This is a little computer generated animation one of my daughters did. I think its quite excellent.

Cult, the Occult, and the Cult Classic

My first experience with the term cult was in youth group Bible studies during my junior high aged years. Then there is the term occult, another youth group Bible study word, the two of which although significantly different in meaning, I often confused.

Introduce years later, the term cult classic when referring to pop culture, or a movie or book with a cult following, and I was really confused. I mean, did people who love The Quest for the Holy Grail get together and drink poisoned Kool-aid? Or do people who have watched Better Off Dead fifteen times sacrifice their cats? I suppose if you're a Joe Versus the Volcano groupie, you might drink orange soda and throw your cat into the belching cone of a tropical island.

Eventually I got that all sorted out, that definition stuff. But still, I wonder sometimes what makes a movie a cult classic? What determines which movies get watched 100s of times by an eclectic group of followers who, when they meet, can recite a random line and elicit an appropriate response?

In a given family or among a certain set of people who spend enough time together, it is natural for one or another title to become a favorite. My daughters and I are like that with A&Es, Pride and Prejudice.

I have to insert a little family story here. Earlier today, because there are several of us recovering from illness, we decided to watch a movie for quiet time. Generally, movies are a privilege saved for Friday night with an occasional midweek movie stuck in. After I asked the kids if they wanted to watch a movie, there ensued a bit of bickering about which title to choose. I gave a few suggestions and warned that if they couldn't come to a peaceable decision, I would choose for them. John's response, "Oh, no, please not Pride and Prejudice."

Getting back to the idea of cult followers of a movie, I understand how those who spend time together can become very familiar with a certain favorite movie. But it always makes me curious when a title gets a wide-spread eclectic following. How does it get started? What makes some movies more prone to gathering people in this way?

And when you're a member of such a group, do you ever notice those sitting on the sidelines with a confused expression on their faces? A good friend or loved one may end up feeling like a stranger, while you engage in a recitation episode with a near total stranger. Or if you happen to be that person not in the know, have you ever been in a mixed crowd when suddenly, some movie or book comes up and several people animatedly attack the subject, tossing out favorite scenes or chapters.

Since I'm somewhat famous for being out of the loop with regard to pop culture, I'm usually the one on the sideline. My husband on the other hand, is in the thick of things. Somehow, even though I've often considered our lifestyle as sheltered from the ebb and flow of pop culture, Joe always knows about everything.

Nowadays, this cult following phenomenon is happening with youTube videos.

I was feeling very culturally illiterate because everyone but me, wherever we went and among whatever group of people we found ourselves, everyone knew about "the Charlie video". At the littlest provocation, people would ready their British accent and start in with, "Ah. Ooh. Ouch! OUCH! OW, CHARLIE! AAAGGHH!" or, "Charlie, that really hurt."

I sincerely doubt any of my readers are as unaware as I, myself, was. But to ensure that you never need to experience that same lost and lonely feeling at some point in the future, here for your viewing pleasure, is the Charlie-bit-my-finger video.



What is it about this movie? I mean, what makes this movie stand out. There are hundreds of videos on youTube of kids, whose parents think they are just the cutest ever. What makes this one so beloved? Is it the British accent? Is it the infant younger brother who looks almost bigger than his older brother? Is it the priceless smile and chuckle with which Charlie responds?

Tell me about your favorite youTube video or cult classic book or movie.

Joe and I amused ourselves with this one the other night.



Don't ask...

But were I to name a favorite, I'd have to choose this one. I love the expressions on everyone's faces as they come out the door.

Weird Coincidence

This is not at all important, but...

After hearing a certain couple talk about their Mad Men foray, I requested the first season from the library. I don't often request an entire season, since it involves so much viewing time, but our librarian, knowing our somewhat infrequent viewing habits, will often extend our loan time to give us time to get through an entire season without having to perpetually renew our selection. But, alas, since Mad Men already had another hold on it, she was unable to accommodate us. It is due Thursday; we've watched a single episode. We probably will not get a chance to view more. But it can always be requested again at a less busy time of life. Is there one?

But here is the weird thing. As I said in my last post, the kids and I recently watched My Fair Lady. One of my favorite songs from the movie is "On The Street Where You Live". The actor is Jeremy Brett, but the dubbed vocals are apparently done by Bill Shirley. The voice kind of reminded me of Johnny Mathis or Tony Bennett, the voices both of whom I'm very fond. Such deep, rich tones and controlled vibrato.

So here we are tonight, watching Mad Men, and in the closing scene the big powerful Madison Avenue ad exec comes home to his waiting wife and kids. As he tucks the blanket around his sleeping children's chins, the background song is "On the Street Where You Live", this time, sung by Vic Damone & Percy Faith, whoever they are. (Sorry if you're a fan, but, well, I'm not really a music head.) It did strike me as odd, though, that a mere three nights ago, I might have recognized the song and been able to sing along a few phrases, perhaps. But I'm quite sure I would not have associated it with the show, My Fair Lady.

When I pointed out that it was Freddy's song from My Fair Lady, You know what Joe said? He asked if it was Johnny Mathis singing.

So in case anyone's curious, here are some other singers and or songs of the genre I really like. You'll have to look up your own audio clips or videos. Nat King Cole, nearly anything (I don't like "A Blossom Fell" for some reason); Roger Wittaker, "The Last Farewell"; Julie London, "Fly me to the Moon"; Patty Paige, "Tennessee Waltz"; Frank Sinatra, "Moon River" and others; and it's kind of morbid but I like "Green, Green Grass of Home", I'm not sure which singer.

Since I mentioned Johnnie Mathis earlier, this is my very favorite oldie.

Although, I guess "Chances Are" is pretty high up there, too. Ah, how does one decide?

Girls' Night Out and My Fair Lady

When I changed my ticker this morning (yes, the very same ticker that doesn't move as quickly as it's supposed to...) I found an ad for Harley Davidson Girls' Night Out Garage Party. I don't happen to have a Harley, nor have I even driven a motor cycle. But I can dream just as well as the next person.

The kids and I recently watched the old My Fair Lady, with Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle. I think there was a similar line in the movie, "I can dream just as well as the next person." Maybe I'm imagining it. I can't think where it occurred. Just sounds familiar.

I was not aware of all the various people who have played and sang for the part of Eliza. Apparently, in the movie, her singing voice was dubbed at least for some of the songs, by Marni Nixon. One of the videos of "Wouldn't it be Loverly" that I found had the undubbed version with Audrey Hepburn singing it. It makes me wonder why they dubbed it and if they dubbed all the songs or just some.

Apparently, Julie Andrews was Eliza in the original Broadway production. A Julie Andrews fan has compiled a neat slide show with her voice and snapshots from the Broadway production. It's really a neat slice of history. In her comments on YouTube, she bemoans the fact that she was "born in the wrong decade" to see Julie Andrews perform. I can understand her sentiment.

But I totally get a kick out of all my kids singing these old songs. We'd previously seen Oklahoma, Sound of Music, and Camelot. I think we'll get Fiddler on the Roof next. Sorry Joe.

Cultural Literacy and Friendship

I forgot about this other item I was going to mention in conjunction with Act of Treason by Vince Flynn. I write periodically about my propensity to want to know everything. And how uncomfortable it makes me to read and see things and not get it.

We don't have TV. We do, however had a DVD player upon which we watch a few movies a month.

This wasn't always the case. Prior to about 5 years ago, we had nothing in our home upon which to fry our brains while viewing the flashing images flicker on and off the screen. And so until that time, I depended upon the graces of our friends and relatives to keep me up to date with all the items of pop cultural import.

Char and Dave S would even periodically bring from Wisconsin their TV and VCR, when spending a weekend with us, since they knew we were lacking in this vital aspect of life. Thanks in large part to this bigheartedness, we were kept abreast of all the cult classics and "bonnet movies" of the 90s.

Another couple who contributed to my cultural literacy during this era is Tressie and Andy B. When we lived in Mankato we were frequently invited to their place for an evening. This may not sound like a big deal, but a family with five kids under the age of 8 years does not get invited out much and we really did appreciate the time spent with them.

Usually these evenings out would end up with us putting the kids to bed in Tressie and Andy's room and we adults would watch a movie. James Bond and Jackie Chan were frequent choices. Somehow we never did the bonnet movies with Andy and Tressie. I guess the guys did most of the choosing.

But I remember one night Tressie and I were visiting, I suppose, and putting the kids to bed and doing dishes maybe, and the guys called us in, "You've gotta come see this!" So we ended up watching the last few matches of UFC 4: Revenge of the Warriors, which culminated in 176 lb Royce Gracie winning an 15+ minute fight to submission against 250 lb Dan Severn.

I have to say I was impressed. It was an exciting match. While we were watching, Joe and Andy filled us in on the history of UFC and the Gracie family's Brazilian jujitsu.

Although I enjoyed the final match of UFC 4, I have never seen another Ultimate Fighting match. And I have to say, I've never even really thought about the Gracies since then.

Until last night.

From Vince Flynn, Act of Treason.

Rapp had been in a fair number of street fights as a kid, but it wasn't until he went to work for the CIA that he really learned how to fight. They'd started him out with karate and then judo. He had little difficulty learning both, and while the fundamentals were sound and the discipline was needed, he instinctively knew that in the real world, fighting was far more frantic. Judo and karate had too many rules. Too many constraints. It was on a trip to Fort Bragg for some additional training that he sat in on a jujitsu class. From the first minutes he knew this was a form that was more suited for real world combat. While karate used mostly feet and hand strikes, and judo used mostly holds and throws, jujitsu combined both and then added knees, elbows, head butts, choke holds, submission holds, and even a few more. Rapp began training in earnest, eventually spending several months in Brazil learning Gracie Jujitsu from the grand master himself, Helio Gracie. Over the years he added some Thai boxing to his regimen, but for the most part he focused on Gracie Jujitsu, eventually earning a third-degree black belt.

Call me a geek, but I love when I find a somewhat obscure reference in a book and it makes sense to me. Thank you Tressie and Andy for the cultural exposure. But more importantly for the friendship and the nights out.

Fictional Heros

OK, I know I implied I was done with the Jane Austen conversations. But alas, my husband and other things have given me reason to revisit the subject. But there are several different aspects of my life and literary interests that have come together recently, so bear with me while I try to tie it all together for you.

Because I am a fan of Stephanie Plum, I frequent the Janet Evanovich web site. Her daughter, Alex, does a fun Q&A with subjects ranging from writing tips to information about future books to extra details on the lives of Evanovich's fictional characters. A fan asked recently which classical music selections might be enjoyed by the fictional Ranger. The answer given was Bach's Suite for Solo Cello No.1 in G Major. When I downloaded that on youtube to hear what piece it was, I found out it is one that my husband, Joe, enjoys playing on his classical guitar. Joe then specified that the Yo-Yo Ma version is the best. On the most recent Evanovich Q&A, Alex specifies that Ranger also prefers that version. So see, Joe is just like Ranger. What a guy!

Now we need to segue to my overnight road trip. Yesterday I loaded up my seven youngest kids to take a quick trip to visit my parents-in-law and my oldest son, Jeremy, who is living with them. The occasion was the annual Carnival at Jeremy's school, Echo Charter School. I thought it would be a good time to meet some of Jeremy's friends and teachers. And it was. I did not officially meet many of his friends, since the carnival is a fund raiser for the school and the students all were busy helping. But his friend, Peter, was helping Jeremy run the bowling game, and Jeremy pointed out several otherfrieinds to me when I asked. And I got a chance to meet his favorite teacher, Mrs. L.

So I had ten hours of driving with seven children in the last two days. I periodically found myself day-dreaming about some of my recent reading. Specifically I was trying to figure out what some of my favorite fictional characters would be like in real life. Would I like them? Now, in my defense, I have not read or re-read any Stephanie Plum books for about a month. I have forced myself to move on a bit to some of the other reading I was getting behind on. But of course, the Plum characters did eventually come into my internal dialog.

I have done this before, always with the same results. I probably would not become good friends with Stephanie or Morelli; they are fun to read about. But I have them pigeon holed as "pop culture" characters and much to my daughters' chagrin, I am kind of the antithesis of pop culture. I have boring clothes; I never shop; I don't watch TV; I don't keep up with sports; I try to be thrifty; and although I love take out food, I would have to be pretty wealthy to be in a position to waste as much money on take-out and convenience foods as do these two characters, not to mention the health aspects of indulging in a diet such as theirs. I am just too practical to allow myself to live like that. As much as I enjoy reading about them, I just can't see myself having anything in common with Stephanie and Morelli.

But Ranger has some noble character traits. I could imagine becoming friends with him, as much as anyone is able to be friends with him. I can imagine engaging him in arguments about his quasi-spirituality and the conflicts that I perceive in his life choices. I would like to pick his brain about his sense of right and wrong and the gray area of legality within which he operates. But of course, since he is Ranger, he would not allow himself to become engaged in any such conversation and so there's the rub. I suppose that is also why he can be portrayed as noble; because by virtue of his silently-mysterious persona, one can never really know him.

And so on down my list of favorite characters.

Imagine my surprise when arriving home I found waiting a web site Joe had pulled up for me to read. He saw a link to it on Drudge while skimming headlines and he thought I'd have fun with it. The author of this little article lists several literary heroes and using their fictional personalities, describes their good points, the reasons women love them. But then the author also goes on to sketch a bit of what a woman who marries such a hero might really expect in a marriage. Included in her list are Emily Bronte's Heathcliffe, Rhett Butler of Gone with the Wind fame, and naturally, Mr. Darcy, among others. Notably missing are the Plum men, Joe Morelli and Ricardo Carlos Manosa aka Ranger.

When later this evening my real life hero, Joe, returned home he asked whether I had seen the article he had saved for me. From the piano at which I was trying to rid myself of some built up car tension, I responded in the affirmative. Ironically, the pieces I was then playing: The Dreame, and Weep You No More Sad Fountains, (Marianne's vocal numbers in Sense and Sensibility), followed by the aria from The Marriage of Figaro that Lizzy sings at Pemberley.

In case anyone is interested, here and here are piano books with music from the various Jane Austen movies. Although I don't usually take time for the Jane Austen fan site stuff on the internet, while researching music in the various movies I did find this Republic of Pemberley site a helpful resource. They appear to have information on every JA novel and all the movies and even on the knock-off Jane Austen stuff. I have referred to it on occasion when curious about a historic detail or if I wanted to check on something from one of the books. It appears to be a very extensive web site and I have not had reason to do more than scratch the surface. But I can say that the lists of music used in the various movies and where it is available is comprehensive.

One More Pride and Prejudice Post

I have a few updates on my previous posts. Char had apparently also answered the original quiz question, but her comment did not come through for some cyber reason. She had also pointed out Jane's pronunciation which, I agree, make the quote so enjoyable. When one reads, "I believe it is of great doctrinal import, sir," one must think of the i in doctrinal as having the long i sound as in nice, instead of the American short i sound as in itch.

Since Char also told me her favorite quote over the phone, I'm not going to quote it here, because I'd get it wrong. I will merely allude to it.

Picture Elizabeth at the piano with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy around her. From the other room, Lady...Catherine...DeBourgh feels like she is missing something and demands admittance into their conversation. She then regales them with the great line about being sure she would have been a true proficient had she ever learned to play piano.

Thank you Char. Wonderful!

And one more thing, the quote I included of Mrs Bennet's about winking at her daughters... Well, my daughters pointed out my error in that one. I had it "Wink at my daughter? Why would I wink at my own daughter, pray?" I've been informed it ought to be, "Wink at my daughter? What a notion! Why would I wink at my own daughter, pray?"

More great Pride and Prejudice quotes

Sorry to be exclusive, but if you want to enjoy the quotes, you'll just have to see the movie.

"Shelves in a closet. Happy thought indeed."

"I shall overcome this! I shall!"

"No! no lace, Mrs. Bennett. I beg you, no lace!"

"And how are your parents? and your er, uh, your sisters? They are all in good health?"

"Only a little and very ill."

"I must confess, I encourage that, also."

And then there is the one about the flutterings and pains that Mrs. Bennett experiences. But I would have to have the movie right here to get that one right. As it is I have probably messed up several of those above. Let me know if I have. I had to return the DVD to the library last week after having already renewed it once.

Oh, and here's the favorite one among my girls.

"Wink at my daughter? Why would I wink at my own daughter, pray?"

Feel free to send me your favorites and I will add them to the list.

Quiz time.

I know that my dear husband offered prizes for his quiz. I can't promise to do that. But if I think of something, I may just send it to any winner. I have a feeling that I may be able to predict the winner. Not because I know all my readers that well. Just because I really have pretty much just a few of you. And I can name two or three who would get this right away, but only one who I can be pretty sure would read this in a timely manner.

So here goes. In what popular movie does this quote appear?

I believe it is of great doctrinal import, sir.

This is one of my favorite quotes from the above mentioned movie. I say quotes, for there are many, and all equally fine.