In Other News

As an ironic follow-up to my last post, you might find it amusing to hear that I join Twitter about three months ago — and have discovered I actually like it.  I’m sure there’s just as much timewasting potential here as on other social media sites, but the brief format means you have to get right to the point, making it easier to sift through the chaff and ponder the kernels.

Besides using it to promote my freelance work (the real reason I joined: employer pressure) I’ve enjoyed reading links and thoughts from some of my favorite food writers, restaurants and friends.  I have no trouble leaving the site after 5 or 10 minutes, every few days, which I wish I could say about Front Porch Republic or The New York Times, where I enjoy teleological meditations and niche pieces: I get my bread-and-butter news weekly from, well, The Week, reading a little every evening from the old-fashioned paper copy that lives on my nightstand.

So, if 140-character blips are your thing, you can read mine at BaltimoreBites.  (It’s a joke.)  

(Sort of.)

Modern Love

So a couple of nights ago, instead of grading papers or cleaning the kitchen, I went to the movies.  Ever since I read in The Week that the *average* rating of Drive was four stars, I had wanted to see it — even though I enjoy cars less than probably anyone else I know.

It was just as fantastic as everyone says it is: gripping and understated at the same time.  I don’t want to go into a lot of detail (I’m certainly not a qualified film critic) but I think what got under my skin the most, and has stayed with me in the days since, was the depiction of the side-note love story between the two main characters.

(Possible spoilers ahead, depending on your pickiness; continue at your own risk.)

They meet honorably: he holds the elevator door for her and watches with an eager, shy smile as she enters her apartment on the same floor.  Later, he listens in on a sweet, intimate conversation between her and her son, and he helps fix her ailing car in the parking lot.  As their relationship deepens, we watch as they watch each other, laugh together, care for her son.  They spend a lot of time just smiling, bashful in each other’s presence but unable to shake the wide-eyed adoration they feel for one another.  Physical contact is limited to a squeeze of the hand and one glorious, passionate kiss in the elevator just before they are separated forever.

The things they love about each other are apparent.  She is a nurturing mother with a sense of adventure; he is protective, dependable and comfortable in almost every situation.  They are both beautiful (hey, it’s Hollywood.)  But it’s not their physical attractiveness we see; it’s the strength of their character, strength that’s reinforced as they grow closer together and help each other cope with problems and celebrate victories. And, despite their love for each other, they each choose something even higher — she, her marriage; he, her family’s safety — in the end.

Is there anything that’s more beautiful than this?  And, basking in the warmth and purity of it, how can we stand to be confronted by the sheer drivel of Sex in the City and its counterparts in film, the relentless stream of romantic comedies that washes over us every summer?

I realize a movie is just a story.  But I don’t think it’s too much to ask that it use that hour or two to say something meaningful.  A movie like that can just take your breath away.

Every Day I Read the Book

Not every day, but just about -- and I start to feel antsy if I don't.  Here are some recent decents:

• The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy.  After I blasted The Road, my friend Matt convinced me to give this one a try.  I have to say that although it starts slowly, his style is very compelling and can explode into high-mindedness even in the midst of the most ordinary and banal life experiences.  Almost finished.


• The Awakening by Kate Chopin.  I just finished this one, after one of my students wrote a term paper about it and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.  After several pretty interesting character studies, I was massively disappointed in the ending, which I had been led to believe was amazing and beautiful.  It wasn't.  Plus, although she may have been the first to write the Bored Housewife Finds Love Elsewhere narrative, I'd already heard it enough before.


• Farm City by Novella Carpenter.  Heartwarming and inspiring narrative about a writer named Novella (I couldn't make that up) who raises bees, chickens and even pigs in urban Oakland.  And of course she has a huge garden, too.  Her personality irked me after awhile (a little too Julie and not enough Julia) but it was a pretty amazing story.


• Food Rules by Michael Pollan.  As someone with absolutely no food rules (I don't even fast very well) I figured I could use some discipline.  There are some great ones in there (don't fill your stomach where you fill your gas tank), although following all 64 would probably make you crazy.  What about one per week?  Sounds like an interesting project.


• A Separate Peace by John Knowles.  Also a student project that interested me enough to read on my own.  Barely started, but it seems a little slow.

Via The Week, I read on LiveScience last week that the more books a child has in his house growing up, the longer he will stay in school.  This assumes, of course, that the books are read and used, but I think one generally follows the other.

For instance, a child born into a family that had only 1 book but was otherwise average in parents' education, father's occupation, GDP, and similar variables, would expect to get 9.4 years of education themselves. Another person from an otherwise identical family with 500 books would expect to get 12.6 years of education (a senior in high school has 12 years of education), the results showed.

For years, educators have thought the strongest predictor of attaining high levels of education was having parents who were highly educated. But according to the findings, a good-sized book library is just as good as university-educated parents in terms of increasing education level.

And of course, if they're organized like mine, they can be part of your decor, too.

Avoiding the Challenges

The Week is such a great magazine that I even enjoy reading the obituaries.  In fact, many times I am saddened to realize I never knew of or appreciated the scientists, artists and politicians memorialized there before having read their obituaries.

One such example was last week's issue, which spoke about Art Linkletter.  Apparently, I unknowingly stole borrowed the title of his book to use for one of my most popular tags, The Darndest Things (Three recent examples.)  Linkletter had a television show in which he interviewed children so that others could be amused by their hilarity and unconscious wisdom.

Here's what I found interesting: how do you think Linkletter found kids that would consistently say interesting and funny things?  Easy.  He wrote to teachers and said, "Give me a few hours with the child you would most like to have out of your classroom."

This is at once funny and sobering.  Oh, I hate thinking that I might be the teacher who doesn't appreciate creativity unless it falls within prescribed parameters.  But I'm sure I would have willingly booted out some future TV stars if given the chance.

Proof!

That intelligent people still exist!  From The Week, which I love more with each issue:

Recently, a University of Wisconsin anthropologist concluded that the human brain has shrunk a full 10 percent over the last 5,000 years. We asked you for more proof that our brains are getting smaller and you weighed in with:

FIRST PRIZE: Two words: Reality TV.
Frank Letchworth, Knoxville, TN (and others)

SECOND PRIZE: The 90 percent re-election rate for Congress.
Cathy Curtis, Finksburg, MD

THIRD PRIZE: Bottled Water.
Ellen Wong, Pasadena, CA

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Spellcheck.
Joanne Nigg, Elkton, MD

Black Friday.
Mark Kellerman, Hays, KN

Hardly anyone can make a decent flint arrowhead anymore.
Chuck Gaston, Lancaster, PA

The return of ‘80s fashions.
Jaime Davis, Minneapolis

Reading weekly magazines that simplify and condense full news articles.
PJ Wells, Canton, OH

Huh?
Mary Hogan, New York City

Cn u repeat the kwestun?
Michael Ullmann, Princeto

A Humble Hallelujah

I've written before about The Week and how much I love it.  Last week's issue, again, made me think about something I probably never would have known existed, had I not read this issue: the downfall of Detroit.  People are literally fleeing this city as quickly as possible, leaving huge areas deserted and open to crime and the elements.

You really need to read the entire article, but this quote hit me the hardest:

The public school system is so bad it’s now under emergency control of the state. “I am extraordinarily concerned about the poor quality of education the children of Detroit are receiving,” says U.S. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan. “I lose sleep over that one.”

These poor children.  And here I am, complaining about an annoying teacher.  At least I have a teacher to complain about.  And textbooks to . . . skim.  And assignments to put off.  I should be starting off every day with a Hallelujah!

Conquering the Crossword

I read The Week, within a few days of its arrival, cover to cover.  Even in the haze of the last semester, when I had to snatch 10 or 15 minutes away from my precious sleep time; even in these last few weeks of unapologetic laziness, from which I'm just now beginning to emerge.  It is my most cherished shortcut.  In an hour or two, I can be reasonably informed about major world events, daydream about a tiny niche of the real estate market (last week it was Cape Cod) read a good recipe and add two or three books, movies or albums to my mental list of things to do.

For our first few years of reading, I really thought the final page couldn't get any better.  Technically, the final page contained highlights of upcoming television programs, items I never even glanced at (we don't own a TV) so I didn't really count it as the final page; that honor belonged to "The Last Word," a thoughtful excerpt of literature that has resulted in my formal boycott of professional football and my discovery of many fascinating works I would not have read otherwise.  But in 2009, they dropped the TV listings in favor of a Puzzle Page.  A joke contest (out of my league.)  A Sudoku (Rob's area of expertise; I think they're boring.)  And a crossword.

As literary as [I like to imagine] I am, I have always been a poor puzzler.  I usually only do them on airplanes, when I am a captive audience and can't think of anything better to occupy my time.  I'm easily frustrated by things I can't immediately excel at, and I don't seem to have the right cross-connections to anticipate all the tongue-in-cheek witticisms, so I have never actually finished one.  Even the fun documentary Wordplay didn't inspire me; in fact, it depressed me (a scheister like Bill Clinton can do the New York Times crossword?  In INK?!)  But The Week helps me feel smart enough to tackle it, a little at a time.  I've tried every puzzle they've printed, and I usually get about halfway through before giving up (my own personal rule is that I can look for clues within the magazine or ask Rob, but not call my mom or use the Internet, which would make it far too easy.)

But!  Last week, I was taking my second or third shot at Puzzle 26, and lo and behold, I finished it.  Done.  Every single space filled, and only one or two uncertainties that turned out to be correct.  Progress!

Try it yourself (I don't think you need a subscription to see it.)  Do me a favor, though: if you finish it, don't tell me.  I enjoy feeling smart. And Grandma, you are disqualified.