Author: jelizabeth

– Big books

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It’s a few minutes before the girls have to leave for school, and Grace is gathering her accoutrement: ponytail holder, socks, a tattered bag of yarn.  She also plunks down a pile of books.  I wonder how she’ll get all this into her pouch and up the hill to school.

big. books.

big. books.

I ask, “Why so many books? Is it library day?”

Without pausing (as though she has been waiting for this question), she tunefully replies, “Nope. I like big books and I cannot lie.”

Which seems to me a much better use of that song than the song itself.

—-

P.S. Dear Mom and Dad, you might not want to click through to the song video, in the line above. (Or now you might, because I’ve activated your curiosity.) The things your grandchildren are exposed to, on the tv and radio? Well, more than I was at their ages. Yes, times have changed.

– Circumstantial soup

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I wasn’t intending to buy baby bok choy.  In fact, I had never bought the leafy green before.

But it caught my eye as I strolled the produce display, looking for a red pepper, in my recently re-arranged supermarket. I saw it and my brain leaped to the idea of “Soup!”

Attention-getting label on baby bok choy

Attention-getting label on baby bok choy

When I got home and unloaded the bags, I realized that some other shopper, or maybe even a produce clerk, had put back the bok choy and mistakenly turned the recipe-labeled side of the package so that it was facing the shoppers. On the other side, there is a small label on the big product window, as is normal for packaged greens.  I wouldn’t have bought it (or all the other soup ingredients, which I did), probably, if all I had seen was the usual view.

Perhaps words or information about the leaf persuaded me more than the leaf itself.

In any event, keep reading for my version of the recipe for the soup, which was easy and good. My variations are in purple. Continue reading →

– Earthkeeping

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leaf I cut back the clematis dripping from the arbor, the lone sunflower bowing its mildewed head, the daisy stalks, raspberry canes, baptisia.

I raked. I bagged. Here and there, I picked up stray wrappers and bits of paper and bagged those too.

At the end, I dragged the full paper bags to the street, and I swept the front walk of dirt and leaves.

I swept the dirt back into the dirt.

“Something to do,” I thought.

I remembered how my father, when I was a child, would sweep the road in front of our house every spring. There was sand scattered the whole length of it, sprayed in the winter by the town’s sand trucks, which followed the plows. The spring road sweeping was a ritual. It smelled like minerals and sun. We children tried to play in the sandpiles made by sweeping fathers until we were shooed away.

Then and now — why all the sweeping, raking, trimming? And the repetition.

Do we keep the world neat this way, livable? Maybe.

I wonder, rather, if these chores are what we do to keep busy, keep moving, keep our chins up.

– Three new knitters

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Yesterday, before a late afternoon dinner at my sister’s house, I taught my two nieces, Elena and Sara, and my oldest child, Eli, how to knit. (My two younger children, Lydia and Grace, are already in the club.)

The three of them picked it up quickly: naturals. It must be in their blood. Eli and Sara even invented their own way of handling the yarn-over step.  I tried a couple of times to guide them in the conventional way, but, when I could see that their idiosyncratic styles were nevertheless effective, I let it be. Continue reading →

– An audience’s task

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My colleagues and I teach undergraduates the fine arts of writing, speaking, and presenting. In this work, we talk explicitly to students about readers and audiences. Much of our work, in fact, involves making students aware of those people to whom they “transmit” their messages, reports, essays, and research. I doubt, however, that I’ve ever taught my students how to be good readers and audiences themselves, even though I hope I model the habits of a good reader and listener.

Today, at our neighborhood school, 670 students gathered in the big gym for the annual Thanksgiving assembly. Mr. Cavanagh, the principal and master of ceremonies, communicated a simple message to this young audience: “Be silent and attentive, and if you can’t be silent and attentive, at least be silent.”

School-age audience, 11.26.2008

School-age audience, 11.26.2008

Not in fear, but out of respect for Mr. Cavanagh’s words, they did sit still, and most were attentive. Some children were as young as 5 and some as old as 14. (It’s a K-8 school.) No blurting, no elbowing, no yanking at teachers’ sleeves.

After an hour, Mr. Cavanagh — an experienced educator who probably realized the energy that goes into being a good audience — called for a “one minute wiggle break.” Everyone stood up, stretched, turned to friends and talked, shifted in their places, and sat down again at the signal. The musical and theatrical numbers continued for another 30 minutes or so. The singers and players were wonderful; the audience performed beautifully, too.

– Fight, might, win*

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On Saturday afternoon, emerging from the cramped hell of the Government Center MBTA stop into spacious City Hall plaza, I was greeted by a leafletter and activist. He caught me off guard.

Activist: I’m with the American Communist party.  Are you here for the demonstration?

Jane: (silently double-takes at “communist”) Er, yeah.

Activist: We believe that the Prop 8 marriage ban is one of a number of equal rights atrocities in this country.  There are workers’ rights, health care rights–

Jane: (warming up to and interrupting him) I’m with you.

By the way, he looks like a young Jackson Browne. Remember him?

Activist: Are you here because… (long sizing-up pause) of reproductive rights?

Jane: (what? huh?) Well, I’m for reproductive rights — yes, definitely — but I’m here to oppose the ban on gay marriage.

Activist: Great.  Are you willing to make a donation? Here’s our newspaper.

Jane: (hands over five dollars) Yes.

Activist: Thanks. So, basically we believe more and more people must become combative on these issues of rights. We need to step it up, put more pressure on the system.

Jane: (alarmed) Oh, well, I’m basically against violence, so —

Activist: I’m nonviolent, too. I don’t meant violence. I mean we have to organize and fight.

Jane: Okay, yes.

Since Saturday, I’ve been ruminating over that conversation, and the subtle yet important differences between violent and combative.  He’s right. And although I went to the demonstration and was counted, is it enough to stand there peacefully on the sidelines, as I did? Silence, after all, does not speak volumes.

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*Regarding my choice of title for this post: One year in high school I was a cheerleader for the basketball team.  Kind of a social experiment that didn’t take.  Anyway, one of our cheers went like this: “We’re gonna F-I-G-H-T; we’re gonna M-I-G-H-T; we’re gonna W-I-N. [pause] We’re gonna fight with all our might to win!”  And while I do NOT equate protesting with mere cheerleading, the word “fight” always fires this connection in my memory.