A fascinating article on the myth of personal bankruptcy and its roots in overconsumption:
http://bostonreview.net/BR30.5/warrentyagi.html
The article does an incredible job in exploring the financial pressures many middle class families are under, and surprisingly discovers that the average American family spends less on frivolous expenditures than a generation ago.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
george w. wrecking ball
From a newspaper column by John Farmer:
The Republican Party is paying a fearful price for its loyalty to George W. Bush, something he rarely, if ever, has reciprocated.
Except for the whistling-past-the-graveyard propaganda put out by the Republican National Committee and its camp followers on the editorial page of the Wall Street Journal, Republicans in Washington and around the country are beginning to believe Bush is their very own national nightmare. The Associated Press even quoted one unnamed GOP lawmaker saying "there's talk of us going the way of the Whigs."
C'mon, now, it's hardly that bad. It's just your ordinary garden-variety looming election disaster.
Farmer's essential thesis is that Bush has become a human wrecking ball where the GOP is concerned. Four senators and nine Representatives have chosen not to seek re-election this year, even though they are in districts or states that are, by and large, solidly Republican. He mentions John Sununu by name, noting that his association with Bush has him trailing badly in the polls, with dedicated conservatives crossing party lines to support his opponent.
Bush has insisted on a stay-the-course attitude pertaining to the Iraq war, despite the overwhelming unpopularity of that approach with the public. There's a place for being stalwart, and perhaps this is such a place, but it's also costing the GOP big time in political fund-raising. House Republicans have only $1.6 million so far; Democrats have more than 12 times that amount.
And Republicans are abandoning the principles of free trade, one of the hallmarks of conservatism. Farmer cites a WSJ poll that found that Republicans believe by a 2-1 margin that free trade is bad for America, costing too many jobs and bringing in shoddy products from overseas. (True, it's not like Bush has personally tainted toys with lead paint, but the measure of a president isn't how things that happen aren't his fault, but how he responds to them. Bush hasn't inspired the confidence he often seems to think he has.)
Agree or disagree with him, President Bush knows what he thinks is the right thing to do and will push as hard as he can in that direction without worrying about whether everyone's going to still like him by the time he leaves office. He reminds me of two people in this regard: The first is a bus driver who takes the bus through the guard rail and down the hill, crashing through bushes, smashing a fence, frightening livestock, and recklessly trying to ford a river. The passengers complain, and all he can say is, "Stop complaining. If you didn't want to go somewhere, why did you get on the bus?"
The other is his father, who also seemed unable to grasp that not everyone could see the superiority of his position and immediately follow it. The elder Bush was astounded when Clinton beat him; the younger seems unable to grasp why people disagree with his ideas, positions, and nominations when he's made no great effort to convince people that his judgment is sound. His "Trust me" around the Harriet Miers nomination was the most famous example.
Perhaps if he gave greater evidence that he was listening to advisers who weren't simply agreeing with him or (rather) giving him ways to advance his own ideas, but instead offered him contrary views that he could listen to and learn from, then perhaps his tenacity might be seen as an asset and less of as a liability.
health care
Count me really disappointed with the president and his decision to veto the SCHIP bill that Congress just sent him.
The bill, which Bush rejected on the grounds that it would cost the government too much and potentially would extend health benefits to people who already can afford them, was one with broad bipartisan support. From reports I've read, it had the support of some 44 state governors, many of them Republican; and also had the support of well-known conservatives Sen. Orinn Hatch (R-Utah). Hatch said Bush's decision was based on wrong numbers about the cost and relied on bad advice.
I'm disappointed. About 12 percent of families nationally can't afford health care for their children, and thanks to this veto, they still won't be able to get it, except for trips to the emergency room.
Just a quick and easy example, close to home: Evangeline requires weekly allergy shots that (thankfully) are covered by our policy through Natasha's employer. Because the shots are administered by a nurse and not by a doctor, there is no co-payment. (A doctor's visit costs us a $15 co-payment.) Insurance also covers the cost of the shots themselves, so these weekly visits cost us nothing more than gas and time.
Take insurance out of the question, and the picture changes drastically. Nurse's visits cost $21 a week, the allergy shots themselves cost a few hundred dollars per bottle -- she needs three different sorts of shots -- and the specialist we saw to get her allergies diagnosed correctly cost a couple hundred dollars as well.
I can't afford to pay that out of pocket. So what do I do? I listen to Evangeline coughing desperately late at night, watch her suffering through the day at school, and pray to God she doesn't get really sick, because then the only option before me is to take her to the emergency room, the sort of health care President Bush used to justify not expanding SCHIP.
It gets even worse if she's sick. Back in January, it seemed like I had taken Evangeline to the doctor's office at least six times for a nasty, persistent cough. At $100 a visit, that's $600, plus more out-of-pocket for antibiotics and heavy-duty cough medicine, all because it never occurred to the doctor until January to send her for a chest X-ray, where we learned that she had undiagnosed pneumonia.
Try paying for all that out of pocket.
Of course you wouldn't; you'd avoid taking your child to the doctor's until you were desperate for something to help, with the result that your child would be even sicker, infecting more children, missing more schooltime, and keeping you or your wife home from work, thereby exacerbating your financial situation.
That's not what I call a health care solution.
I suppose I could buy insurance privately, right? For a family in our state, with two children and an annual income of $41,300 -- that's about what we make -- the cost of a policy just to insure the children is about $5,000. That provides no coverage for prescriptions, and it only allows visits to a very small group of doctors. If the child has a pre-existing condition, like Eowyn's allergies, the insurance won't cover it for 12 months. So I'm still burning money on something other people take for granted.
By the way, that $5,000 figure is for two boys. Apparently, if I have two girls -- which I do -- that policy would cost $5,400. (These figures are courtesy of a column in the Star Ledger.) For the whole family, insurance could cost more than $12,000 a year in Iowa. I'd love to know how you feed a family, pay the rent, and take care of other utilities on the remaining $29,000.
Keep in mind that these costs are going up as insurance providers seek ways to boost their bottom line to impress the shareholders; health insurance premiums are up 78 percent since 2001. A number of small businesses are dropping health benefits, and even large employers are requiring greater employee contributions to their health plans. It's just getting too expensive to provide health benefits.
I can't find the exact figures right now; my understanding is that the Bush veto means that a number of families in New Jersey that have been eligible for NJ FamilyCare (our state's version of SCHIP) will not be eligible now because of projected cost increases. In other words, the veto isn't just keeping the program from expanding, it's forcing the program to drop people from the rolls.
As to the torture issue, I'll note that one doesn't generally seek legal advice or counsel out of idle curiosity. It's used to set policy. And given this administration's inclination to setting aside rules it disagrees with -- something it has been chastised for, not just in the public arena but in the legal system as well -- I am disappointed in the existence of these memos. It does not bode well for our nation that a sitting attorney general would opine in his official capacity that we have the right to engage in waterboarding or the other behaviors described in the NY Times article.
If Sen. Clinton (or Sen. Obama, my choice) becomes president and extends the domestic spying programs, I say shame on her too. I don't see the Vulcan logic in giving up my freedoms to protect my freedoms from people who want to take them away, and I find it disappointing that the administration has engaged in this behavior.
"Those who surrender their freedom to gain security will have and deserve neither." -- Ben Franklin
For a man who set out seven years ago to forge a path for "compassionate conservativism," Bush has beat down a different trail entirely. The legacy he's going to leave is not a compassionate one, nor even a very conservative one, from what I can tell.
If I had to guess at his motivations, I'd say he's probably trying to reduce federal expenses on the one hand, and probably believes he's bolstering our security efforts on the other.
For the first matter, I think the priorities are wrong; on the issue of torture -- and I can't see that simulated drowning is anything but torture, as with the other practices described -- I hold that it's morally unconscionable for a government to practice such acts, no matter what its motivation, and I also cite the arguments of Sen. John McCain, R.-Arizona, who has pointed out repeatedly that any "intelligence" gained from such actions is useless.
The bill, which Bush rejected on the grounds that it would cost the government too much and potentially would extend health benefits to people who already can afford them, was one with broad bipartisan support. From reports I've read, it had the support of some 44 state governors, many of them Republican; and also had the support of well-known conservatives Sen. Orinn Hatch (R-Utah). Hatch said Bush's decision was based on wrong numbers about the cost and relied on bad advice.
I'm disappointed. About 12 percent of families nationally can't afford health care for their children, and thanks to this veto, they still won't be able to get it, except for trips to the emergency room.
Just a quick and easy example, close to home: Evangeline requires weekly allergy shots that (thankfully) are covered by our policy through Natasha's employer. Because the shots are administered by a nurse and not by a doctor, there is no co-payment. (A doctor's visit costs us a $15 co-payment.) Insurance also covers the cost of the shots themselves, so these weekly visits cost us nothing more than gas and time.
Take insurance out of the question, and the picture changes drastically. Nurse's visits cost $21 a week, the allergy shots themselves cost a few hundred dollars per bottle -- she needs three different sorts of shots -- and the specialist we saw to get her allergies diagnosed correctly cost a couple hundred dollars as well.
I can't afford to pay that out of pocket. So what do I do? I listen to Evangeline coughing desperately late at night, watch her suffering through the day at school, and pray to God she doesn't get really sick, because then the only option before me is to take her to the emergency room, the sort of health care President Bush used to justify not expanding SCHIP.
It gets even worse if she's sick. Back in January, it seemed like I had taken Evangeline to the doctor's office at least six times for a nasty, persistent cough. At $100 a visit, that's $600, plus more out-of-pocket for antibiotics and heavy-duty cough medicine, all because it never occurred to the doctor until January to send her for a chest X-ray, where we learned that she had undiagnosed pneumonia.
Try paying for all that out of pocket.
Of course you wouldn't; you'd avoid taking your child to the doctor's until you were desperate for something to help, with the result that your child would be even sicker, infecting more children, missing more schooltime, and keeping you or your wife home from work, thereby exacerbating your financial situation.
That's not what I call a health care solution.
I suppose I could buy insurance privately, right? For a family in our state, with two children and an annual income of $41,300 -- that's about what we make -- the cost of a policy just to insure the children is about $5,000. That provides no coverage for prescriptions, and it only allows visits to a very small group of doctors. If the child has a pre-existing condition, like Eowyn's allergies, the insurance won't cover it for 12 months. So I'm still burning money on something other people take for granted.
By the way, that $5,000 figure is for two boys. Apparently, if I have two girls -- which I do -- that policy would cost $5,400. (These figures are courtesy of a column in the Star Ledger.) For the whole family, insurance could cost more than $12,000 a year in Iowa. I'd love to know how you feed a family, pay the rent, and take care of other utilities on the remaining $29,000.
Keep in mind that these costs are going up as insurance providers seek ways to boost their bottom line to impress the shareholders; health insurance premiums are up 78 percent since 2001. A number of small businesses are dropping health benefits, and even large employers are requiring greater employee contributions to their health plans. It's just getting too expensive to provide health benefits.
I can't find the exact figures right now; my understanding is that the Bush veto means that a number of families in New Jersey that have been eligible for NJ FamilyCare (our state's version of SCHIP) will not be eligible now because of projected cost increases. In other words, the veto isn't just keeping the program from expanding, it's forcing the program to drop people from the rolls.
As to the torture issue, I'll note that one doesn't generally seek legal advice or counsel out of idle curiosity. It's used to set policy. And given this administration's inclination to setting aside rules it disagrees with -- something it has been chastised for, not just in the public arena but in the legal system as well -- I am disappointed in the existence of these memos. It does not bode well for our nation that a sitting attorney general would opine in his official capacity that we have the right to engage in waterboarding or the other behaviors described in the NY Times article.
If Sen. Clinton (or Sen. Obama, my choice) becomes president and extends the domestic spying programs, I say shame on her too. I don't see the Vulcan logic in giving up my freedoms to protect my freedoms from people who want to take them away, and I find it disappointing that the administration has engaged in this behavior.
"Those who surrender their freedom to gain security will have and deserve neither." -- Ben Franklin
For a man who set out seven years ago to forge a path for "compassionate conservativism," Bush has beat down a different trail entirely. The legacy he's going to leave is not a compassionate one, nor even a very conservative one, from what I can tell.
If I had to guess at his motivations, I'd say he's probably trying to reduce federal expenses on the one hand, and probably believes he's bolstering our security efforts on the other.
For the first matter, I think the priorities are wrong; on the issue of torture -- and I can't see that simulated drowning is anything but torture, as with the other practices described -- I hold that it's morally unconscionable for a government to practice such acts, no matter what its motivation, and I also cite the arguments of Sen. John McCain, R.-Arizona, who has pointed out repeatedly that any "intelligence" gained from such actions is useless.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
disappointment with bush
This just makes me discouraged. I was hoping for something different. Christ have mercy.
This particular quote resonated with me:
Back around Easter, I passed around a column I had read, to several friends about torture and how every assault on a prisoner is an assault on the person of Christ. I was horrified when one friend, whom I generally respect despite our differences of opinion, said that he disagreed, and felt that God has given governments the authority to torture prisoners for matters of security.
I have to admit, I lost some respect for him on that one.
One thing that I find striking about Bush right now is how much he has changed in the eight years he has been in office. When he first came on, I was willing to give him a chance, because he had some goals that were worth exploring, such as his faith-based initiatives to help the needy. He even met with liberal groups and activists like Jim Wallis of Sojourners to discuss where the need was greatest and what he as president could do.
And now ... well, now he's vetoed a bill to bring health care to the nation's neediest children (after all, they already have emergency rooms), his administration has justified the nation's first-ever domestic spying program, they've insisted on the right to torture prisoners and to deny them third-party oversight; it's issued more signing statements than the previous 42 administrations combined, and (let's not forget) it misled the country into war while refusing to provide safe harbor for the refugees that war has created.
The stresses of being president are going to be hard on any one -- especially one who is president at as nerve-wracking a time as 9/11 -- but I can't say he has help up well under the stress.
This particular quote resonated with me:
"I know from the military that if you tell someone they can do a little of this for the country's good, some people will do a lot of it for the country’s better," said John D. Hutson, who served as the Navy's top lawyer from 1997 to 2000.
Back around Easter, I passed around a column I had read, to several friends about torture and how every assault on a prisoner is an assault on the person of Christ. I was horrified when one friend, whom I generally respect despite our differences of opinion, said that he disagreed, and felt that God has given governments the authority to torture prisoners for matters of security.
I have to admit, I lost some respect for him on that one.
One thing that I find striking about Bush right now is how much he has changed in the eight years he has been in office. When he first came on, I was willing to give him a chance, because he had some goals that were worth exploring, such as his faith-based initiatives to help the needy. He even met with liberal groups and activists like Jim Wallis of Sojourners to discuss where the need was greatest and what he as president could do.
And now ... well, now he's vetoed a bill to bring health care to the nation's neediest children (after all, they already have emergency rooms), his administration has justified the nation's first-ever domestic spying program, they've insisted on the right to torture prisoners and to deny them third-party oversight; it's issued more signing statements than the previous 42 administrations combined, and (let's not forget) it misled the country into war while refusing to provide safe harbor for the refugees that war has created.
The stresses of being president are going to be hard on any one -- especially one who is president at as nerve-wracking a time as 9/11 -- but I can't say he has help up well under the stress.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
chthulhu
I believe it was Phil Foglio who wrote a cartoon around the concept of a game called "Escape from Cthulhu." The players open a box, and one of them reads the incantation printed on the inside of the box. A hideous monster appears behind them, with tentacles waving around a mouth filled with needle-sharp teeth, and while the other players wig out, the player with the box reads the second step of the instructions: "Now escape."
I have to say that I've been rather struck by how seminal the Cthulhu mythos have proved to be, especially when you consider how poor Lovecraft was at the actual mechanics of writing. Movies like "Event Horizon" rely on the basic conceit of Lovecraft's work, Cthulhu was a fairly major character (under a different name) in Larry Niven's "World of Ptavvs," and the Old Ones even get mentioned in an episode of Star Trek.
I have to say that I've been rather struck by how seminal the Cthulhu mythos have proved to be, especially when you consider how poor Lovecraft was at the actual mechanics of writing. Movies like "Event Horizon" rely on the basic conceit of Lovecraft's work, Cthulhu was a fairly major character (under a different name) in Larry Niven's "World of Ptavvs," and the Old Ones even get mentioned in an episode of Star Trek.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
awakening needed
Hey, fellow Christian, I have a suggestion: Don’t ask people for money if you haven’t spoken to them more than once in the past five years.
If you had just written me a letter to say that you and your 12-year-old son were going to
Instead, I get a letter ― and not even a letter that was addressed to me personally, but an e-mail you sent to a couple dozen other people as well, all at the same time ― full of spiritual words about the Word of God, and how many millions of people are starving for that Word, and what an exciting opportunity it is for us to be involved in the work of the Lord by helping you get to Colombia.
May God forgive me for the times I have done this very thing.
You’re absolutely right: The fields are ripe unto harvest. The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few, and I don’t begrudge you the opportunity to go work in the fields for a few weeks and see how far before these overtended fields in
But if you want people to be a part of your “ministry” ― and don’t kid yourself, in a two-week trip God’s doing to do more to transform your life than he’s going to do to transform Colombia ― you’ll need to relearn a fundamental truth about the Kingdom of God that we’ve lost, not just here in Iowa but in all America, and probably throughout the West: It’s the people who count.
If you can’t make the effort to reach out to individual people, one on one, and share with them why you’re making this trip; if you can’t make a personal connection and pass the time with people, giving them a little of yourself before you ask them for financial support; if you can’t remember that the only convincing evidence for the gospel is that way people’s lives are set on fire by love for one another … then you don’t need money.
ignition point
Rachel has reached her ignition point.
For the last few weeks in particular, since we started this year of homeschooling, I’ve been working with her to instill actual reading skills. She’s found the consonant-consonant sounds frustrating, and at times has groaned over having to do reading class, and asked to do something less difficult, like writing class.
Well, a few weeks of Hooked on Phonics have been paying off. Last week I pulled out a set of books that stick to monosyllabic words and short vowels, and that break in the combination sounds one or two per book. As an incentive, the books come with little stickers that I’ve been letting her place in the front of the book once she’s proved she can read the entire book without help from a parent. Early last week she was still getting frustrated by cl- and st-, but by Friday she was eager for the next volume.
Monday put her over the top. She was excited to read a story that uses the short O sound to Natasha and then to Evangeline, and at evening’s end, she had decided on her own initiative to tackle the book with the short U sound. Virtually flawless.
And then, the big one: I took out our copy of Dr. Seuss’ “Hop on Pop,” about 60 pages of rhymes, simple words, unfamiliar sight word like they, and words that follow no pronunciation rules she’s acquainted with, like night. She needed help with those words, but because of the rhyming nature of the book ― sentences like “FIGHT NIGHT / We fight all night” ― she very quickly got the hang even of them, and could remember them from one page to the next with minimal prompting.
She’s reached the ignition point, and she’s about to take off.
Friday, September 28, 2007
teach your children well
I recently told my best friend that I've introduced my children to several clean Flying Circus sketches, like "Buying a Mattress."
He groaned, and then admitted that he often feels inferior as a father when he thinks of the close bonds I enjoy with my girls, the time he knows I share with them, and the activities we do together ... and then he feels much better when I tell him things like "Evangeline knows all the words to 'Spanish Inquisition.'"
He groaned, and then admitted that he often feels inferior as a father when he thinks of the close bonds I enjoy with my girls, the time he knows I share with them, and the activities we do together ... and then he feels much better when I tell him things like "Evangeline knows all the words to 'Spanish Inquisition.'"
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
So why exactly couldn't I keep my thyroid?
If this fellow gets to keep his amputated leg, then why couldn't I have kept my thyroid?
According to NBC News, John Wood kept his leg in a smoker that he kept in a storage facility. The limb had been amputated after a plane crash.
The article notes that he kept the leg for religious reasons his family didn't understand.
This is the argument I had made, with the addition that I didn't understand them either. And I wouldn't have left it in a barbecue smoker in a storage facility.
According to NBC News, John Wood kept his leg in a smoker that he kept in a storage facility. The limb had been amputated after a plane crash.
The article notes that he kept the leg for religious reasons his family didn't understand.
This is the argument I had made, with the addition that I didn't understand them either. And I wouldn't have left it in a barbecue smoker in a storage facility.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
deconstructing jack and the beanstalk
Jack and the Beanstalk is an interesting sort of fairy tale.
Like other stories, fairy tales have a function besides mere entertainment value. "Red Riding Hood" serves to warn children not to talk to strangers, who pose the danger of death and sexual assault. "The Frog Prince" is a lesson in honesty and keeping one's word, while "Hansel and Gretel" speaks of the value of courage, teamwork and quick-wittedness. Even the stories of Chaunticleer at least have a sort of gallows humor going for them, the way death can come from any direction, as it too often did during the Middle Ages.
But "Jack and the Beanstalk" is about a boy who breaks some of the oldest laws of civilization, by betraying his hostess and killing her husband after stealing one treasure after another. It's an adventure story, to be sure, but it's not much of a morality tale.
In fact, as fairytale heroes go, Jack is neither particularly smart nor brave, He's just lucky. A stranger tells him that beans are magical, and Jack is gullible enough to trade away his cow for these beans rather than getting enough money from the sale of the cow to buy a calf or a couple goats. To his good fortune, it turns out that the beans actually are magical, and his life changes.
When I was a child, I always assumed that the man who gave Jack the beans was some sort of con artist, taking advantage of Jacks's naivete to get a cow for the cost of beans. But this doesn't make much sense; the man who gave him the beans told him that the beans were magical and they were.
It's far more likely that the man knew they were magical and sold them to Jack to effect change in Jack's life. This deliberate of benevolence sets in motion the events of the fairy tale. In a fit of anger over Jack's apparent foolishness, his mother throws the beans through the window and they grow overnight into an enormous beanstalk that reaches into the very heavens,
At this point Jack goes from the childish faith in believing in magic beans to a more adult outlook that fills him with curiosity and boosts his courage enough for him to seize the opportunity before him and climb the beanstalk.
At the top of the beanstalk, Jack also finds wealth and the story becomes more complicated. In many versions of the story, the items that Jack takes -- gold coins, a hen that lays golden eggs and finally a magic harp that plays tiself -- belong to the giant, making Jack a simple thief. The Brothers Grimm throw an interesting wrinkle in when they reveal, via Jack's mother, that these things all had belonged to Jack's father until they were stolen years before.
I'd suggest that this doesn't make as big a difference as we might thing. The fairy tales that Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm collected were stories that were told by peasants and lower-class workers all over what we now call Germany. The heroes of the stories invariably were simple people like they were, people who made progress by old-fashioned work or by simple cleverness that in the imaginary fairytale world won them the gratitude of kings and the hands of beautiful princesses.
Fairytale heroes like Jack, in other words, were people who lived under a feudal system where the fruits of their labors were taken from them by kirke and by king, by clergy and by rulers who were distant and removed from day-to-day life. They were unmoveable and unreachable, and lived a life of comfort so far off that they might as well have lived atop a beanstalk in a kingdom in the sky.
In this sense the giant represents the king or lord of the manor. With this reading, "Jack and the Beanstalk" becomes a mildly subversive tale about taking back from the rulers what they themselves have unjustly taken from the people who produced it.
Now let's revisit the man who gave Jack the magic beans. We've already established that he wasn't a simple con artist out for Jack's cow. He knew what the beans would do, and he gave them to Jack so that they would grow the beanstalk. He knew that if Jack climbed the beanstalk it would take him to the giant's castle, and he knew that once Jack was there, he would find the treasure. Presumably he also intended that Jack should take the treasure.
This is no con artist. In the framework of the story, the man with the beans is an agent of justice. He is a Christ figure in the literary sense, giving the oppressed Jack the opportunity to regain what was taken from him and to punish the perpetrator at the same time. If the giant does in fact represent the lord of the manor, "Jack and the Beanstalk" isn't just an interesting fairy tale.
It's positively revolutionary.
Copyright © 2007 by David Learn. Used with permission.
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But "Jack and the Beanstalk" is about a boy who breaks some of the oldest laws of civilization, by betraying his hostess and killing her husband after stealing one treasure after another. It's an adventure story, to be sure, but it's not much of a morality tale.
In fact, as fairytale heroes go, Jack is neither particularly smart nor brave, He's just lucky. A stranger tells him that beans are magical, and Jack is gullible enough to trade away his cow for these beans rather than getting enough money from the sale of the cow to buy a calf or a couple goats. To his good fortune, it turns out that the beans actually are magical, and his life changes.
When I was a child, I always assumed that the man who gave Jack the beans was some sort of con artist, taking advantage of Jacks's naivete to get a cow for the cost of beans. But this doesn't make much sense; the man who gave him the beans told him that the beans were magical and they were.
It's far more likely that the man knew they were magical and sold them to Jack to effect change in Jack's life. This deliberate of benevolence sets in motion the events of the fairy tale. In a fit of anger over Jack's apparent foolishness, his mother throws the beans through the window and they grow overnight into an enormous beanstalk that reaches into the very heavens,
At this point Jack goes from the childish faith in believing in magic beans to a more adult outlook that fills him with curiosity and boosts his courage enough for him to seize the opportunity before him and climb the beanstalk.
At the top of the beanstalk, Jack also finds wealth and the story becomes more complicated. In many versions of the story, the items that Jack takes -- gold coins, a hen that lays golden eggs and finally a magic harp that plays tiself -- belong to the giant, making Jack a simple thief. The Brothers Grimm throw an interesting wrinkle in when they reveal, via Jack's mother, that these things all had belonged to Jack's father until they were stolen years before.
I'd suggest that this doesn't make as big a difference as we might thing. The fairy tales that Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm collected were stories that were told by peasants and lower-class workers all over what we now call Germany. The heroes of the stories invariably were simple people like they were, people who made progress by old-fashioned work or by simple cleverness that in the imaginary fairytale world won them the gratitude of kings and the hands of beautiful princesses.
Fairytale heroes like Jack, in other words, were people who lived under a feudal system where the fruits of their labors were taken from them by kirke and by king, by clergy and by rulers who were distant and removed from day-to-day life. They were unmoveable and unreachable, and lived a life of comfort so far off that they might as well have lived atop a beanstalk in a kingdom in the sky.
In this sense the giant represents the king or lord of the manor. With this reading, "Jack and the Beanstalk" becomes a mildly subversive tale about taking back from the rulers what they themselves have unjustly taken from the people who produced it.
Now let's revisit the man who gave Jack the magic beans. We've already established that he wasn't a simple con artist out for Jack's cow. He knew what the beans would do, and he gave them to Jack so that they would grow the beanstalk. He knew that if Jack climbed the beanstalk it would take him to the giant's castle, and he knew that once Jack was there, he would find the treasure. Presumably he also intended that Jack should take the treasure.
This is no con artist. In the framework of the story, the man with the beans is an agent of justice. He is a Christ figure in the literary sense, giving the oppressed Jack the opportunity to regain what was taken from him and to punish the perpetrator at the same time. If the giant does in fact represent the lord of the manor, "Jack and the Beanstalk" isn't just an interesting fairy tale.
It's positively revolutionary.
Copyright © 2007 by David Learn. Used with permission.
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Thursday, September 20, 2007
deconstructing red riding hood
Where is Christ in "Red Riding Hood?" Is he the grandma, who is killed by the wolf, and who satisifies the wolf's hunger so that he spares Red Riding Hood? Is he Red Riding Hood herself -- no, I think perhaps what is striking about "Red Riding Hood" is itslack of chrisocentric imagery. It is a world of lawlessness, where the mighty and the powerful prey upon the weak and defenseless with remorse. It is a land given over to savagery, and the innocent cannot survive.
One could contend that it is Red's failure to obey the rules of her world that gave the wolf the means to destroy her. That is certainly the traditional reading, which we despise for its cruel savagery -- that if little girls do not listen to their parents, they will be raped and killed in the worst ways imagineable.
That's the chief reason we've added the huntsman and the impossible salvation that he brings. We would much rather celebrate the myth that says that the innocent will be avenged and the wicked punished, and more importantly we want to believe that no mistake is so bad that we cannot be rescued from it and its consequences ameliorated.
So perhaps that is the better story: The wolf kills Grandma, and he kills Red Riding Hood, but the woodsman kills him and ends the wolf's reign of terror in the woods/forest community. One can see wolf and hunter locked in a battle of wills, the hunter giving or losing all he has, to fight until at last he lays the wolf low.
Another story I can draw from this is one of lawlessness and nihilism. There is no God, no Christ, and each does as he wants. The wolf kills Red Riding Hood because he can. She feasts on her dead grandmother's flesh because she is hungry, and the woodsman kills the wolf out of spite, the way a child might kill an ant simply because it amuses her to do so.
A story like that is simply horrifying, and though I can imagine it, I rather doubt I would have the stomach to write it. It is too raw, too violent, too decidedly animlistic and lacking any virtue that separates us from the animal world. I imagine that nearly all of us would pull away from such a tale rather than immerse ourselves in it. In such a world, which lacks all sense of God or any law of morality, even the fruitless injunctions of Red Riding Hood's parents to stay on the path and talk to no one lacks any talismanic power to protect, or any authority to compel Red Riding Hood to obey.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
half a thought
I had a thought while writing this morning, of the ways we pass judgment on others in our misery, that there is something stuck-up about the way we feel sorry for ourselves, in the isolation we feel from others.
It's gone, or nearly so, and yet it was almost perfect. I was beginning to understand something, to see it in a new light.
Why do I prefer Sunday mornings to be alone with my brooding thoughts?
It's gone, or nearly so, and yet it was almost perfect. I was beginning to understand something, to see it in a new light.
Why do I prefer Sunday mornings to be alone with my brooding thoughts?
learning to hate
Let me start by saying that I've learned to hate church.
I'll cut right through the crap and admit that it's not because I think we're doing it wrong for this generation. I don't think it's because the worship is too loud, too soft, too contemporary, or too traditional. It'ws not because the preaching is too topical, too exegitical, too political, too personal, too abstract, or too boring. And it's not even because there are no ministries for me.
All of those things may have played a role in getting me to stop pretending everything is all right and that I love spending my Sunday mornings under pressure to get the family to church on time, but none of those things is why I look forwrd to Sundays with all the enthusiasm I can muster for a root canal.
What I mislike about church -- what I am learninbg to actively loathe -- is the utter pointlessness of it all.
-- the loneliness of it all.
-- the exclusion of it all.
-- the emptiness of it all.
I'll cut right through the crap and admit that it's not because I think we're doing it wrong for this generation. I don't think it's because the worship is too loud, too soft, too contemporary, or too traditional. It'ws not because the preaching is too topical, too exegitical, too political, too personal, too abstract, or too boring. And it's not even because there are no ministries for me.
All of those things may have played a role in getting me to stop pretending everything is all right and that I love spending my Sunday mornings under pressure to get the family to church on time, but none of those things is why I look forwrd to Sundays with all the enthusiasm I can muster for a root canal.
What I mislike about church -- what I am learninbg to actively loathe -- is the utter pointlessness of it all.
-- the loneliness of it all.
-- the exclusion of it all.
-- the emptiness of it all.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
hebrew and arabic cds
Well, we're back on the homeschooling wagon for at least another year. Rachel missed the cutoff date in our district by two weeks, so we have elected to put her through kindergarten at home rather than miss the opportunity.
One of the things we're trying to do is to expose her to languages other than English. Spanish is easy -- on our recent trip to Mexico I commented that it was virtually like being in Iowa because there were so many people around us speaking Spanish -- but I'd like to include some non-European languages as well, if not to learn then at least to build some familiarity with the sounds and the ebb and flow.
And of course, one of the best ways to experience another language is through music, especially if it's a tune we already know. Music makes it easier to remember and even memorize a song, and if they're songs we already know, it becomes easier to get the meaning.
Amazingly, none of the Judaica shops that I have visited in nearby Hoover Point -- which has a significant Jewish population -- appear to carry CDs with Hebrew or Israeli folk music, or other music in Hebrew. I can continue to rely on YouTube for the experience, but that's kind of a pain in the tuchis. Does anyone have a suggestion where I could find some decent music in Hebrew without exorbitant shipping rates? This could be folk music, such as recorded by Ofra Haza, but it could also be the ever-popular Children's Songs from Hell, or even soundtracks of Disney movies and Broadway shows.
I'm also looking for CDs of Arabic songs of that nature, since it's the lingua franca of the Middle East. The Arabic I'm most familiar with personally -- I can say "Marhaba" and "Shou ismac" -- is Lebanese. It seems kind of odd that the language would be that varied from nation to nation, especially since the Quran must act in some capacity to tether the dialects together, but then I imagine Arabic is an older language than modern English, and had more time to develop regional variations before mass communication set in.
Anyway, I am told that Egyptian is the most universally understood dialect, owing to the popularity of Egyptian television. Maybe that would be a good place to start.
And as I've been thinking about this further, I suppose the best songs to start with really would be songs they're already familiar with, whether popular children's songs, or soundtracks from movies and plays.
One of the things we're trying to do is to expose her to languages other than English. Spanish is easy -- on our recent trip to Mexico I commented that it was virtually like being in Iowa because there were so many people around us speaking Spanish -- but I'd like to include some non-European languages as well, if not to learn then at least to build some familiarity with the sounds and the ebb and flow.
And of course, one of the best ways to experience another language is through music, especially if it's a tune we already know. Music makes it easier to remember and even memorize a song, and if they're songs we already know, it becomes easier to get the meaning.
Amazingly, none of the Judaica shops that I have visited in nearby Hoover Point -- which has a significant Jewish population -- appear to carry CDs with Hebrew or Israeli folk music, or other music in Hebrew. I can continue to rely on YouTube for the experience, but that's kind of a pain in the tuchis. Does anyone have a suggestion where I could find some decent music in Hebrew without exorbitant shipping rates? This could be folk music, such as recorded by Ofra Haza, but it could also be the ever-popular Children's Songs from Hell, or even soundtracks of Disney movies and Broadway shows.
I'm also looking for CDs of Arabic songs of that nature, since it's the lingua franca of the Middle East. The Arabic I'm most familiar with personally -- I can say "Marhaba" and "Shou ismac" -- is Lebanese. It seems kind of odd that the language would be that varied from nation to nation, especially since the Quran must act in some capacity to tether the dialects together, but then I imagine Arabic is an older language than modern English, and had more time to develop regional variations before mass communication set in.
Anyway, I am told that Egyptian is the most universally understood dialect, owing to the popularity of Egyptian television. Maybe that would be a good place to start.
And as I've been thinking about this further, I suppose the best songs to start with really would be songs they're already familiar with, whether popular children's songs, or soundtracks from movies and plays.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
aunt fran
The bad news is that I no longer expect to be in Georgia next week, which means that I won't be trying to strongarm my friends down there into an impromptu get-together in the Atlanta area.
The good news is that my Aunt Fran is going to live, and is headed toward some sort of recovery, though it probably won't be a total one. I just got this e-mail from my cousin Susan:
Given that she's still feeling this headstrong and giving her son The Look, it seems like she has every bit the will to live that her older sister, my Aunt Julie, lacked most of her adult life. (Aunt Julie passed away in February.)
We got the news Thursday that Aunt Fran had suffered a major stroke sometime Tuesday night, fallen as a result and broken her leg, and had spent the entire next day on the floor of the bathroom. When she didn't show up for work the second day -- she's 70 years old and works at The Limited for something to do -- they called the sheriff's office, which contacted somebody else, and finally they got into her house and found her on the floor, alive but unresponsive.
Several tests later they determined that she had had a blood clot in her brain and apparently has lost control over the entire right side of her body. We were wondering if there would be a second, fatal stroke as sometimes happens in these cases, but apparently she's doing fairly well for the circumstances. She's always been a headstrong and independent woman, traits that I'm sure are going to help her make progress with her current situation.
So while I wouldn't mind meeting our Georgia operatives in person, I'm more than willing to bite back the disappointment and accept this arrangement instead.
The good news is that my Aunt Fran is going to live, and is headed toward some sort of recovery, though it probably won't be a total one. I just got this e-mail from my cousin Susan:
Scott just called to say that Aunt Fran sorted her mail (left handed) - saw the mail on the table and dragged it over to herself and opened everything - and is giving "The Look" that only a Mom can give when she's mad. She also smacked Scott's hand when he told her to not get up without a nurse present. He's going to give her a pen and paper to see if she can write.
Given that she's still feeling this headstrong and giving her son The Look, it seems like she has every bit the will to live that her older sister, my Aunt Julie, lacked most of her adult life. (Aunt Julie passed away in February.)
We got the news Thursday that Aunt Fran had suffered a major stroke sometime Tuesday night, fallen as a result and broken her leg, and had spent the entire next day on the floor of the bathroom. When she didn't show up for work the second day -- she's 70 years old and works at The Limited for something to do -- they called the sheriff's office, which contacted somebody else, and finally they got into her house and found her on the floor, alive but unresponsive.
Several tests later they determined that she had had a blood clot in her brain and apparently has lost control over the entire right side of her body. We were wondering if there would be a second, fatal stroke as sometimes happens in these cases, but apparently she's doing fairly well for the circumstances. She's always been a headstrong and independent woman, traits that I'm sure are going to help her make progress with her current situation.
So while I wouldn't mind meeting our Georgia operatives in person, I'm more than willing to bite back the disappointment and accept this arrangement instead.
sacred prostitution
The church is a whore.
The church is a whore but she is my mother.
The church is a whore, but she is my mother, and I love her.
The church is a whore. I have seen her, spreading her legs before many suitors who promised her power in exchange for the influence she uses to hide her infidelities. She prostitutes herself before political power brokers, before the wealthy -- oh, she loves them more than any others -- and at times before the intelligent, the well-groomed, and the merely clever.
The church is a whore, and her behavior disgusts me. She is my mother.
I have borne her constant deprecations that waver and change with each lover she takes. She has beaten me
The church is a whore but she is my mother.
The church is a whore, but she is my mother, and I love her.
The church is a whore. I have seen her, spreading her legs before many suitors who promised her power in exchange for the influence she uses to hide her infidelities. She prostitutes herself before political power brokers, before the wealthy -- oh, she loves them more than any others -- and at times before the intelligent, the well-groomed, and the merely clever.
The church is a whore, and her behavior disgusts me. She is my mother.
I have borne her constant deprecations that waver and change with each lover she takes. She has beaten me
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
comic art appreciation
Here is where we see how a lifetime of reading comic books can pay off in appreciating art.
A friend of mine named Walks in the Rain has a compelling four-page prologue to a comic she has been working on for a while. At the moment, the prologue lacks any words, an absence that makes the work even more compelling and intense. My reaction comes more as a writer than as an artist (which is to be expected, all things conisdered), but I love the pacing of this sequence. The first page is dominated by a half-page panel of the woman lying on bed, her eyes drawn to something unseen, her spirit clearly restless.
Next we see her rise from the bed, but she is drawn not to her desk or other work, but to the window, where she stares out into the night. It's possible just in these three panels to hear the spirit of the night calling to her to leave the confines of her room, her house, and to be free. That mood is only enhanced by the second page, where the woman moves around the room, like a caged animal.
Evidently she's trying to fight this primal urge, since her next move is to her mirror, where it appears she is trying to gather her strength for what must come next. And on Page 3, we see what she is about to do: She sheds her clothes, frees her hair from the braid, and stands bared before the silent full moon before, on Page 4, she climbs out onto the roof, only a leap away from the life that has been keeping her caged in.
And then, in the last panel, we see her running away, liberated, a wolf.
The art tells the story beautitfully without relying on any words, and I have to say that I'm hooked and eager to see the next part of the story, even though I won't be sharing this with Evangeline any time soon. (Perhaps it's prudish, but I'm reluctant to show nudes in art to an 8-year-old, however well-drawn or sculpted they are, even when the nudes are done as tastefully as this.)
Only one point really troubles me: Though it's easy enough to guess what happened, given the full moon, the jump between the last two panels on Page 4 is rather sudden. Perhaps that's to show the sudden burst toward freedom, away from the confines of the house and all it represents? I'm still wondering if an intervening panel, showing her leaping from the porch roof might be in order.
Walks in the Rain recently graduated from art school, and I think it's evident from the work on this page that she has a lot of talent. I can't wait to see buy first graphic novel when it comes out.
A friend of mine named Walks in the Rain has a compelling four-page prologue to a comic she has been working on for a while. At the moment, the prologue lacks any words, an absence that makes the work even more compelling and intense. My reaction comes more as a writer than as an artist (which is to be expected, all things conisdered), but I love the pacing of this sequence. The first page is dominated by a half-page panel of the woman lying on bed, her eyes drawn to something unseen, her spirit clearly restless.
Next we see her rise from the bed, but she is drawn not to her desk or other work, but to the window, where she stares out into the night. It's possible just in these three panels to hear the spirit of the night calling to her to leave the confines of her room, her house, and to be free. That mood is only enhanced by the second page, where the woman moves around the room, like a caged animal.
Evidently she's trying to fight this primal urge, since her next move is to her mirror, where it appears she is trying to gather her strength for what must come next. And on Page 3, we see what she is about to do: She sheds her clothes, frees her hair from the braid, and stands bared before the silent full moon before, on Page 4, she climbs out onto the roof, only a leap away from the life that has been keeping her caged in.
And then, in the last panel, we see her running away, liberated, a wolf.
The art tells the story beautitfully without relying on any words, and I have to say that I'm hooked and eager to see the next part of the story, even though I won't be sharing this with Evangeline any time soon. (Perhaps it's prudish, but I'm reluctant to show nudes in art to an 8-year-old, however well-drawn or sculpted they are, even when the nudes are done as tastefully as this.)
Only one point really troubles me: Though it's easy enough to guess what happened, given the full moon, the jump between the last two panels on Page 4 is rather sudden. Perhaps that's to show the sudden burst toward freedom, away from the confines of the house and all it represents? I'm still wondering if an intervening panel, showing her leaping from the porch roof might be in order.
Walks in the Rain recently graduated from art school, and I think it's evident from the work on this page that she has a lot of talent. I can't wait to see buy first graphic novel when it comes out.
cerveza
Cerveza is one of several words I added to my Spanish vocabulary, owing to a just-completed trip to Isla Hobox, a small island in the state of Quintana Roo, Mexico, to celebrate the wedding of my brother-in-law and his new wife. (Hoping this marriage works out better than their first ones.)
While I was there, I sampled Mexican cuisine of all sorts, including what Friar Tuck once called "a holier way" to consume grain. The big brands on the island, and probably throughout Mexico, are Sol and Dos Equis.
Gringo that I am, I was very unimpressed with each of them. Give me a pint of Sam Adams in all its bitterness any day, or give me a can of Iron City when it's time for la cerveza. But no more Sol or Dos Equis, por favor. No me gustan.
While I was there, I sampled Mexican cuisine of all sorts, including what Friar Tuck once called "a holier way" to consume grain. The big brands on the island, and probably throughout Mexico, are Sol and Dos Equis.
Gringo that I am, I was very unimpressed with each of them. Give me a pint of Sam Adams in all its bitterness any day, or give me a can of Iron City when it's time for la cerveza. But no more Sol or Dos Equis, por favor. No me gustan.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
isla holbox and haiti
Still a little sunburned on my nose, but most of it seems to have faded, taking along with it much of the psoriasis on my legs, some on my arms, and even a little on my back.
That's a welcome change, considering how widespread the psoriasis has been the past year or more. It'd be nice for it all to disappear completely by the end of our stay here, but I am sure that is not going to happen.
In many ways this part of Mexico reminds me of Haiti. The buildings are similar, from the small homes -- though these have thatched roofs and relatively few of corrugated tin -- to the bigger buildings that house restaurants and businesses. Many of them are made of concrete and rebar posts, have the same sort of painted murals or signs, and so on.
The chief differences I can see are that everyone has electricity and it's on constantly, unlike in Haiti, where it was spotty at best; all the kids are fully dressed, and none of them runs around naked or without pants; and there are no beggars. The area is not wealthy, by American standards, but it's clear that the people aren't impoverished either.
The blans/gringos continue to own some of the most expensive businesses in town, of course, such as the Three Island and whale shark tours, and the jewelry store across from the restaurant where we ate last night. (That jewelry store, incidentally, is owned by a woman who grew up in Tuscon, we discovered.)
The spurs on my heels are really jagged right now. I'd love to get them smoothed away. (Aren't you thrilled to know?)
That's a welcome change, considering how widespread the psoriasis has been the past year or more. It'd be nice for it all to disappear completely by the end of our stay here, but I am sure that is not going to happen.
In many ways this part of Mexico reminds me of Haiti. The buildings are similar, from the small homes -- though these have thatched roofs and relatively few of corrugated tin -- to the bigger buildings that house restaurants and businesses. Many of them are made of concrete and rebar posts, have the same sort of painted murals or signs, and so on.
The chief differences I can see are that everyone has electricity and it's on constantly, unlike in Haiti, where it was spotty at best; all the kids are fully dressed, and none of them runs around naked or without pants; and there are no beggars. The area is not wealthy, by American standards, but it's clear that the people aren't impoverished either.
The blans/gringos continue to own some of the most expensive businesses in town, of course, such as the Three Island and whale shark tours, and the jewelry store across from the restaurant where we ate last night. (That jewelry store, incidentally, is owned by a woman who grew up in Tuscon, we discovered.)
The spurs on my heels are really jagged right now. I'd love to get them smoothed away. (Aren't you thrilled to know?)
Saturday, September 01, 2007
isla holbox
Isla Holbox has been an interesting place to be so far. The island is made of sade washed up from the ocean because of a lagoon, and anchored in place over the years by a variety of plants and their root systems. It is accessible only by boat. (Addendum: There is also a small jetport, but that's ridiculously expensive.)
We arrived here Thursday after a flight from Newark to Cancun, a two-hour drive through the outlying regions of Quintana Roo state, and then a relatively quick -- 15 minutes, I think -- ride on a speed boat, followed by a three- or four-minute jaunt on a golf cart to Amigos House, where we are staying.
We've established the general lay of the land while we've been here, finding our way to the hotel where almost everyone else is staying, and to the center of town, where the restaurants and other businesses that cater to the turistas are located.
We ate lunch Friday at a place called Chonchy's. The service was slow, and some meals came before others -- a definite departure from restaurants in the United States -- but the food was excellent. Evangeline and Rachel ordered quesadillas, I can't remember what Natasha got, and I ate some fajitas.
Actually, I was especially pleased with myself. I don't speak Spanish -- not really -- but I know enough that I was able to order my food, and the girls', correctly, and to compliment the cook when she came out to see if we liked it, or if there was anything else she could get us.
At the Cancun Radisson where we ate lunch on Thursday, Evangeline ordered a salad, and was confounded when the waiter brought out a plate of sliced tomatoes and mozzerella cheese. She quite clearly had been expecting lettuce, but that wasn't a part of the deal here. It may be that since it's a cold-weather crop it's not available here. Yo no se. But I have noticed that she's trying to stick to more familiar or "safe" foods, like quesadillas.
Natasha's brother Kevin has impressed all of us with his apparent facility with Spanish. He has trouble understanding what people say to him, but having grown up in the Southwest and making trips to Mexico regularly as a student at Flowing Wells High School, he knows abit and can make a guess at a lot more.
I've been doing all right. Twice I've been able to explain that Mi ija necessita ir al baño; ¿donde ésta? among other things, but my Kreyol keeps wanting to come out this way, as I've seen or heard happen many times when multilingual people speak. Thus yesterday I said about lunch, "Me gusta anpil," and last night nearly confused the waiter by asking, "Garçon, mas tostadas, sille vous plait." ¡Hay caramba! as absolutely no one in Haiti would say.
Last night we had pizza, and once again I found myself missing my homemade sourdough crust. The crust here was thin and flaky, and in some ways made me thing of a very large tortilla chip. Ma said it probably had pork lard in it too. The cheese was of one variety, and the sauce was fairly bland. The toppings made it interesting, though -- jamon, vegetable, and lobster. I've never had that on pizza before.
Amigo House is a two-story residential building with three other buildings on site, including a laundry room, a kitchen/living room, and the quarters the owners use when they are here. The main building is a frame of palm tree trunks nailed and spiked together, with walls of plaster. It comes complete with TV sets in each room, plus air conditioning and a fully functional kitchen.
And now it's time to wake the kids.
Later
It's now afternoon. The girls and I just got back from a much smaller lunch than yesterday's, at a luncheria where we spent 54 pesos -- about $5 -- on a pair of quesadillas for the girls and something which name I can't remember, for myself.
We spent most of the morning with Ma and Tracy, who rented a golf cart to drive around the island and see what it looked like.
We arrived here Thursday after a flight from Newark to Cancun, a two-hour drive through the outlying regions of Quintana Roo state, and then a relatively quick -- 15 minutes, I think -- ride on a speed boat, followed by a three- or four-minute jaunt on a golf cart to Amigos House, where we are staying.
We've established the general lay of the land while we've been here, finding our way to the hotel where almost everyone else is staying, and to the center of town, where the restaurants and other businesses that cater to the turistas are located.
We ate lunch Friday at a place called Chonchy's. The service was slow, and some meals came before others -- a definite departure from restaurants in the United States -- but the food was excellent. Evangeline and Rachel ordered quesadillas, I can't remember what Natasha got, and I ate some fajitas.
Actually, I was especially pleased with myself. I don't speak Spanish -- not really -- but I know enough that I was able to order my food, and the girls', correctly, and to compliment the cook when she came out to see if we liked it, or if there was anything else she could get us.
At the Cancun Radisson where we ate lunch on Thursday, Evangeline ordered a salad, and was confounded when the waiter brought out a plate of sliced tomatoes and mozzerella cheese. She quite clearly had been expecting lettuce, but that wasn't a part of the deal here. It may be that since it's a cold-weather crop it's not available here. Yo no se. But I have noticed that she's trying to stick to more familiar or "safe" foods, like quesadillas.
Natasha's brother Kevin has impressed all of us with his apparent facility with Spanish. He has trouble understanding what people say to him, but having grown up in the Southwest and making trips to Mexico regularly as a student at Flowing Wells High School, he knows abit and can make a guess at a lot more.
I've been doing all right. Twice I've been able to explain that Mi ija necessita ir al baño; ¿donde ésta? among other things, but my Kreyol keeps wanting to come out this way, as I've seen or heard happen many times when multilingual people speak. Thus yesterday I said about lunch, "Me gusta anpil," and last night nearly confused the waiter by asking, "Garçon, mas tostadas, sille vous plait." ¡Hay caramba! as absolutely no one in Haiti would say.
Last night we had pizza, and once again I found myself missing my homemade sourdough crust. The crust here was thin and flaky, and in some ways made me thing of a very large tortilla chip. Ma said it probably had pork lard in it too. The cheese was of one variety, and the sauce was fairly bland. The toppings made it interesting, though -- jamon, vegetable, and lobster. I've never had that on pizza before.
Amigo House is a two-story residential building with three other buildings on site, including a laundry room, a kitchen/living room, and the quarters the owners use when they are here. The main building is a frame of palm tree trunks nailed and spiked together, with walls of plaster. It comes complete with TV sets in each room, plus air conditioning and a fully functional kitchen.
And now it's time to wake the kids.
Later
It's now afternoon. The girls and I just got back from a much smaller lunch than yesterday's, at a luncheria where we spent 54 pesos -- about $5 -- on a pair of quesadillas for the girls and something which name I can't remember, for myself.
We spent most of the morning with Ma and Tracy, who rented a golf cart to drive around the island and see what it looked like.
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