Today I read this article on the health benefits of boiled peanuts.
Tag: memories
Heroes and Villains
My second grade teacher was my first villain.
Because I was often sick as a child, I grew comfortable in the quieter company of adults–my parents, older relatives, my doctors and nurses–and preferred their world to the noise and messiness of children. I was shy and timid, and my parents worried about how I’d be when I started school. They were able to entice me out of my shell by bringing a dog, our mixed breed Dopey Dan, into my life. Dopey was born to a dachshund whose owner tried to drown the puppies when he found out they weren’t purebred. My parents told me that as a result, Dopey was shy and afraid. I had to be brave so that I could teach him that it was okay to be around kids.
I had smart parents, and I was also fortunate to have other good adults in my life. Like the sweetest kindergarten teacher, Miss Harris, who acted like she didn’t know I once replaced my broken Crayons with Linda Bishop’s perfect ones. (Sorry, Linda.) Then I had a lovely first grade teacher, Mrs. Griffin, one of those ancient Southern ladies who smelled faintly of talcum powder and who had ample breasts that translated into smothering hugs in the most comforting way.
Okay, this writer HAD to do it deliberately…
Remember Baby Jessica (born on my birthday in 1986) who fell into an abandoned well in Midland, Texas, when she was eighteen months old? Jessica’s married with a little boy of her own now, and I just read this article about her:
What Ever Happened to ‘Baby Jessica’?
For 2 1/2 days in 1987, the world watched and prayed for the little girl trapped in a well. By the time rescuers pulled the 18-month-old out of the ground, she was already a household name. Today, Jessica McClure is a new mother and patiently waiting for access to a $1 million trust fund set up by well-wishers.
Well-wishers. Giggle.
Out of the Blue
A reviewer (almost all positive) who scolds us for too much Pet Shop Boy-ness in WHEN YOU DON’T SEE ME cracks me up. One of the good things about being a little further down the writing road and having Tim for a writing partner is that most criticism no longer wigs me out and if it does, he snaps me back to sanity. This time, however, I laughed even without Tim’s rational perspective. I can’t complain. The first reviews are for the most part very good (thank you, reviewers), and the reader mail that’s coming in ROCKS. Thank you to everyone who reads our books and writes us about them.
As you may have gathered from other posts, the Beatles are the theme band for my second Coventry book. I’m not only saturating my environment with Beatles music when I write, but the Beatles mean something to my character, too. (I wonder if I’ll get Beatle-bashed in a review some day?) Back when thirty-five was only some vague, meaningless number in the far-distant future, my friend Riley gave me George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass, but I have been turntable-free for several years so I haven’t been able to listen to it.
Today, while writing, I really needed to hear a song from it, so I splurged and bought/downloaded the whole freaking album (all the original stuff plus whatever was added upon its thirtieth anniversary re-release) online. I am in GEORGE HARRISON HEAVEN. I only wish Riley were hanging out with me right now so we could listen to all these songs together, like the old days, while sandalwood and nag champa scent the air.
These flower child moments are ephemeral, however, as I was reminded when I had to divide up chicken necks for the dogs and EW, Rhonda, it happened to me, too. Tom tried to get me to take a photo, and I hope the Interwebs thank me for restraining myself. Rex’ll be enjoying chicken head sometime next week…
Previous posts about Riley:
December 27, 2006
June 24, 2006
December 8, 2005
September 30, 2005
National Coming Out Day, October 11
I think one reason that I love National Coming Out Day is because of my view of what makes a hero. It’s not that I don’t see heroism in great acts; of course I do. But I also see heroism in smaller acts, including the courage that it takes to be honest and open about who you are even though that may come at a high emotional–and sometimes physical–price.
Since I make no secret of being a longtime straight ally and advocate of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered people, maybe it’ll surprise you that the first time someone came out to me, I didn’t handle it so well. I was eighteen. She lived on the same hall in my dorm and was one of a small circle of friends that formed among girls from different cities and backgrounds. I was so naive that I missed all the small insights she tried to give me, so that when she finally shared the information that she was a lesbian, I was taken completely by surprise and for a while, I put distance between us. It didn’t bother me that she was a lesbian; that was her business and had nothing to do with me. What bothered me was that she’d kept this essential truth about herself from me for as long as she did. I felt deceived by a friend–never a good feeling. And I felt like someone hadn’t trusted me, and it made me second-guess how I’d presented my friendship.
I was too young to understand that her coming out had nothing to do with ME and what I was ready to hear and willing to accept. And honestly, I’m not sure I learned this lesson even after years of relationships with other gay and lesbian friends. It ultimately hit home when a friend I’d known for more than a decade finally told me that he was gay. I’d always been relatively sure he was, though his efforts to hide it from me were painstaking. I didn’t get it; he knew that I had gay friends and was an AIDS caregiver to two gay men. Yet it took him so long to tell me the truth, and when he did, he was incredibly anxious. I mulled that over for quite some time before a light went on and I realized that his honesty had nothing to do with my acceptance, any more than my college friend’s honesty had.
Coming out is not about who hears it. It’s about who says it.
Any time we’re honest about who we are, we take a risk. We can meet rejection or indifference or ridicule. Being honest and facing that risk for something that most people don’t understand, or have been taught is wrong, requires even more courage. National Coming Out Day is a reminder to me of how brave people can be even when we’re feeling frail and vulnerable.
For everyone who has come out to your family, friends, coworkers, legislators, teachers, and medical professionals, thank you for your honesty and your courage. You’ve opened that door a little wider for the people who will be approaching it later with the same anxiety.
And for those who are on the receiving end of such honesty, I hope that you embrace your family and friends for who they are. To me, they are heroes.
For RtM
I do remember having to leave the house to buy them, and the excitement of choosing one from among so many with my limited allowance. I’m including a clickable photo after the cut so you can see the title and Gene can see the sales sticker. I’m sure he remembers the store. Really, it’s awesome that iTunes only charges twenty-one cents more all these decades later.
Top Ten Songs Meme
I was tagged, so….
I don’t think my top two favorite songs ever change.
1. The Boxer–Simon and Garfunkel
2. Thunder Road–Bruce Springsteen
As soon as I try to come up with the other eight, I’m tormented by songs I love from Fleetwood Mac, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Joni Mitchell, Led Zeppelin, R.E.M., Prince, Stevie Nicks, George Harrison, John Mellencamp, Carly Simon, Willie Nelson, Tom Petty, Elvis, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and Jimi Hendrix. Ultimately, I think the list changes depending on whether I’m thinking of music, lyrics, or personal associations.
And I’m afraid the eight I’m choosing from many favorites all give lie to the assertion that I’m thirty-five. Dammit.
3. Hey Jude–The Beatles
4. Good Vibrations–The Beach Boys
5. Boys of Summer–Don Henley
6. Sympathy for the Devil–The Rolling Stones
7. Subterranean Homesick Blues–Bob Dylan
8. Imagine–John Lennon
9. Hey, Hey, My, My (Into the Black)–Neil Young
10. Guilty–Randy Newman
For all you treehuggers
Friday, Lynne and I had lunch at Beck’s (great name) on Westheimer. The burgers, steak sandwiches, and fries are good, but the food isn’t really why we go there. We go when we need tree energy.
You may recall from this post* that I have a thing for live oaks. Or you may have guessed as much from the way live oak history and trivia found its way into THREE FORTUNES IN ONE COOKIE. I think they are just fantastic trees, and we visited a couple of them today at Beck’s. I took some photos that I’ll put behind a cut.
Random Thursday Musing
Today is novelist Anne Rice’s birthday. In honor of the occasion, I’ll share–and probably somewhat repeat past entries–some of my favorite moments with Anne Rice’s work.
Back in the mid 1980s, I made a new friend who, upon finding out that I was an avid reader, suggested that I read Interview With the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat. While anxiously awaiting release of The Queen of the Damned, he wanted someone to talk with about the novels.
I wrinkled my nose. Although I enjoyed the artistry of classic literature with some characteristics of horror or the supernatural–most notably works of Poe, Hawthorne, and the Bronte sisters–my heart and mind didn’t really go in that direction. But I valued his friendship and his opinion, so I said I’d give Interview a go.
Playing Barbies
I promise I won’t do this to you every day. There are too many Barbies. I can make this ordeal last a long, long time. But since I’m unpacking, cleaning, and repacking them, I may as well share photos of them, starting with the King.