Month: January 2025

 

Last year I was preparing to go to Texas Woman’s University for a college English teachers conference. My friend asked, “What do you do there?” There are dozens of papers on various topics presented mostly by teachers, some by graduate students, having to do with literature, rhetoric, and creative writing. I usually present one paper and some creative piece. I sometimes win an award which I promptly report on the Syrup. My friend said, “Oh, that sounds like fun.” Imagine my delight in her understanding of this concept. Students used to ask, “So y’all sit around and read papers to each other?” Pretty much. I went on a bit with my friend explaining that yes, it was a lot of fun. She finally added, “Ummm, Mary Ann, I was kidding.” Oh.

Saturday, I attended a mini-conference—just 8 papers, no creative works. Because there were so few, I thought I’d describe a bit for your enjoyment. We thought it was all quite fun. As thinking ought to be, right?

Titles are included but not names. I didn’t ask permission. Most are young teachers though. I should warn you about the titles. The use of colons and explanatory notes is common. I have mocked the practice which means, of course, that my title uses this format. Each paper was short, though. In spite of the long titles.

“Living with Incomplete Understanding: All the Pretty Horses and the Profound Beauty and Stupidity of Being Human”

This novel by Cormac McCarthy is set in 1949 and begins in San Angelo, my hometown. The characters are young men going to Mexico to find work as cowboys. Movie in 2000 with Matt Damon and Penelope Cruz received poor reviews. Our presenter gave an insightful, nuanced discussion of the topic, using evidence for his thesis. Among his sources was a book by Doris Lessing, Prisons We Choose to Live Inside. I only know her fiction, but this book of five essays includes this provocative title, “Switching Off to See Dallas.” A summary includes some frightening lines: “Lessing proposes that all individuals are all brainwashed by society. She enumerates the three pillars of brainwashing: tension, repetition, and slogans that simplify complex ideas into concise verbal packages.” Uh oh.

“The Kermiad: Jim Henson’s Film The Muppet Movie as Epic Poem”

The presenter has a crisp, dry wit. I asked not to follow this year because, you know, it was too hard to do so. It did not disappoint. The movie was released in 1979, featuring many cameos and providing the Muppets’ back story. A number of conventions apply to an epic, and we heard them applied to the film. It’s basically a road movie, but then so is the Odyssey. Kermit is the hero, pursued by Doc Hopper. That actor is Charles Durning, Pappy O’Daniel in O Brother, Where Art Thou? Plus many other works you’ll know. He wants Kermit to be spokesfrog for his fried frog legs business. Our presenter made a convincing case for his thesis.

“Conscience: Its Role in Human Relationships in Hawthorne’s ‘Rappaccini’s Daughter’”

This rather dark short story introduces us to a scientist who has reared his daughter in a garden full of fatally poisonous flowers. Confined there, Beatrice has herself become so poisonous that her breath kills insects. High school students used to read The Scarlet Letter, though I don’t know if they do now. Our presenter guided us through some Jungian thinking and the awareness of good and evil. The story is available to read here. Last year, this presenter recited from memory Oberon’s speech to Puck when sending his to find a magic love-inducing flower. What a gift that was!

“Morrison’s Communities in Turmoil: The Comedic versus Tragic Terrain”

Toni Morrison’s Beloved and The Bluest Eye are compared in this presentation. Beloved is a very powerful novel, based on an incident in which an enslaved mother escaped captivity but when she was found, she fled with her children intending to kill them so they would not be returned to slavery. Only the youngest died, but years later, after much fear of an evil spirit haunting the house, a young woman appears and calls herself Beloved. Before I read it, I gave it to my mother. She reported that it was “interesting.” When I realized what I given her when I finished it, I think she was using understatement. The Bluest Eye is Morrison’s first novel, controversial because of some of the action within it. The presentation was more in depth than I can cover. One term used was “double consciousness” or always observing one’s self through the eyes of others. W.E.B. Du Bois explained that this was the psychological challenge of “all colonized or subordinated people in a repressive society.” Another intriguing phrase was “Love is the best hiding place.”

“Embodied Rationality: The Integral Unity of Soul and Body in Philosophical Biology”

It would be difficult to overstate my ignorance of philosophy, but I’ll try. This presentation was fascinating. Two explanations of the soul, the new-to-me term “hylomorphism” and “mind-body dualism,” attempt to describe what we are. The presenter used first examples of what is essentially eating versus feeding. It was clever and thought-provoking, but because I have a different concept of the reality in which I have my existence, it is perhaps doubly hard to hear others that conflict with each other. One is from George McDonald (often misattributed to C.S. Lewis): You do not have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.” Another, perhaps deeper, is from Joseph Smith: “Intelligence can neither be created nor destroyed.” This paper I’ll need to read when it’s published.

“Music Has Charm(er)s: The Role of Musicians in Homer’s Odyssey”

This one was mine. When I was listening to this work last summer, I realized for the first time that musicians sing at pivotal times in the action of this epic. Phemius and Demodocus are the humans; then there are the Sirens. Out of an abundance of lack of ego, I’ll just share the Siren scene from O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) and a poem by Margaret Atwood, “Siren Song.”

“The Comic Features of William Faulkner’s ‘Race at Morning’”

The most charming part of this presentation was the presenter’s obvious love for the story under discussion. Here you can read along as William Faulkner reads it to you. My notes on this essay are long but unreadable and non-sensical. One quotation was from A Christmas Carol, Marley’s ghost: “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business.” I love Faulkner and was glad to learn more about this story.

And then I went to this gala—Hope and Pearls. I’ve written about Dr. Tonya Stafford several time. Human trafficking is real, it’s local, and IGTBOK is a worthy cause.

Some years ago, I submitted a musical revue to a play contest at BYU. The search range was narrow: female academics writing for the stage. My entry, If Mama Ain’t Happy…, grew out of sketches I’d written for my graduate playwriting class. Yes, I wrote the music, the melodies anyway. My gifted and talented husband built the accompaniments. And it had been produced for a large stake activity at church. At BYU, the director didn’t use the music but instead offered one of my favorite pieces, John Rutter’s Suite Antique for flute, played here by Rachelle Crowell. When I wrote to him several years ago, I had forgotten. I remembered a completely different piece, Claude Bolling’s Suite for Flute and Jazz Piano played here by Jean-Pierre Rampal. (Yes, I could play it at one time and performed it with my husband as dinner music for a theater another director. We got the buffet free every night for the run. No, don’t ask for it now.)

The money prize was enough for a trip out, my first to Utah. I had a friend who had moved a few years before to Provo. Her husband, Paul Nixon, taught geology there. They’d built a lovely house near the campus with windows facing Mount Timpanogos. She’d planted roses below the windows that deer liked to eat. It was quite beautiful. They and others came to the performance; the glory passed, I went home. Nothing more happened with my musical revue.

Before I left, Paul and I were in the living room. (No, I never actually called him “Paul.”) The trip to Utah had been wonderful. Jokingly, I said, “Maybe I’ll just stay for the summer.” His reply was remarkable: “I see there’s still snow on Mount Timpanogos.” Something struck me about the dry humor. It was sort of “it’s been nice having you, but you really need to get home now.”

When I was leaving home, the youngest, not impressed by any perceived glory asked, “But who lost?” That wasn’t a question I had thought of, but it turned out to be the operative one. The director, Tim Slover, was a little embarrassed for me, I think, because the answer was, “Well, you didn’t have much competition.”

Tim is now a professor at the University of Utah. He continues to write and has some outstanding credits. One is a PBS production for which he did the screenplay, A More Perfect Union (2022). Available currently on Amazon Prime.

Some takeaway gifts for today, January 20, Inauguration Day 2025:

1. Questions are important, but not everyone has the gift of asking them. Try to find someone who is gifted if you’re not.
2. Not answering is another gift. Not saying anything can indeed be the wisest possible response. If only.
3. I have a short story (yes, published) about a mother who practiced flute daily and could still play the piccolo part to “Stars and Stripes Forever.” I have agreed to play in a month, with live people listening. This is for me, but if you need to, do. Repeition is a gift, even if boring.
4. As a remedy for, well, what it would remedy, watch Tim Slover’s production today. I plan to after returning from an MLK Day observance this evening. It’s a gift and a blessing to know where and how the country came from.
5. And stress-free reading, one song from If Mama Ain’t Happy…, key of GM.

Lullaby

There ought to be a lullaby

For mothers who can’t sing.

(To the piano player: Will you help me?!) who can’t sing.

My baby seems to tell me, Hush!

You’ll see that I can’t sing.

Ther are baby swings with music,

Teddy bears that throb the womb,

There are water beds for babies,

And I’m longing for my own!

There needs to be a lullaby,

A tune that comes to me

With just one note, or maybe two

Surely no more than three—

I love his little ears so sweet.

They leave a perfect mark.

They press a shape upon my arm—

It’s beautiful to see.

With a lullaby, a song to sing

I’m sure it would be swell.

He’ll go to sleep so quickly,

Then I’ll lie down on my bed,

La la………..”Rockabye baby,

In the treetop.

When the wind blows,

The cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks,

The baby will fall.

Down will come baby,

Cradle and all….”

(Spoken: Isn’t that a little harsh?!)

There ought to be a lullaby

For motherd who can’t sing.

My baby seems to tell me, Hush!

I wish that I could sing.

(Voice over, child’s whisper: Hush, mama!)

 

 

“It’s not what we say. It’s what we do.” From the MegaCare website, which will make sense later.

Working Theory: If the raging wildfires were happening anywhere except California, the response would be more sympathetic, less inclined to blame the political leadership.

A typical reaction to illness is identifying its source: Who gave me this (cold, cough, COVID)? Only once in my life, outside of family whose germs can’t be avoided, have I known from whom an illness came. And even that isn’t certain, no matter how sure I feel. It’s just human nature.

Disasters are no different. Whether natural or manmade (human-caused, prefers Grammarly), events are usually more difficult to investigate and assess than they may seem.

Climate change (formerly global warming or global cooling) gets the most votes, even when that seems absurd. In April, a state senatorial candidate blamed climate change for an earthquake in New Jersey. She was roundly mocked: “We never get earthquakes. The climate crisis is real.” Yes, it is. But earthquakes happen along fault lines, far beneath the surface. Or volcanoes? Still, the possibility of cause and effect can’t be ruled out because stresses based on water levels and many other factors may be linked to climate change. So, it wasn’t scientists who were mocking the pol. She may not have had any basis for saying what she said, but that doesn’t mean she was wrong.

The current wildfires raging in Southern California may have had many causes—fireworks, arson, power lines, lightning, wind-fanned smoldering embers—any can be possibilities with New Year’s Eve fireworks blazes rekindled as the current most quoted. You would think people would have the sense not to shoot fireworks but why finish that thought?

The problem I’m seeing is the ease with which people are blaming the fires not on firestarters but on the political leadership in Los Angeles and California generally. You probably know the details. The mayor went to Ghana when she’d promised not to leave the country. She didn’t turn around but stayed for the president’s inauguration. When confronted by a reporter at LAX, she didn’t speak at all. The fire chief is blaming her for budget cuts and lack of support. Gavin Newsom isn’t supporting her very vocally. Lack of chaparral clearance. Delayed or closed reservoirs. The entire design of California’s prevention and preparation systems is faulted. Newsom’s reply is that misinformation, disinformation, and lies are responsible for all this badness

We assume Californians dislike Texas or think we’re all awful. More Californians move to Texas than vice versa, but there are many who wouldn’t dream of such a thing because the blue to red state doesn’t appeal. Everything else might, but people who feel strongly about such slogans as “Don’t California My Texas” (Abbott 2018) aren’t going to give him the satisfaction. See this Texas Monthly article.

The current Golden Rule seems to be something like “Don’t do unto them because it’s their fault, and they have done it (insert topic) unto us anyway.” This is the opposite of “as we would have them do unto us.”

When people compare the devastation to a war zone, most of us can’t imagine what that means, or the Apocalypse, or Armageddon, all of which I’ve heard. Are people less sympathetic because the areas affected belong to more affluent people, as someone else wondered? Maybe. Or perhaps people out there don’t believe in prayer, so why bother?

Ryan Akins, now a Dallas resident, comes from Pacific Palisades. His childhood home burned, though his parents are safe. This WFAA report tells his story and includes the news that The Potter’s House is sending supplies. A link is included for donations to their MegaCare ministry. Here’s another site with additional specific ideas.

Pray anyway. Send money anyway. I did, to The Potter’s House. The situation doesn’t seem to be improving. More Santa Ana winds are predicted. Save criticism, deserved or not, for another time. The photo from years ago features rocking chairs from my great-grandfather and aunt, a dining table and chairs from my grandmother’s home, inherited art, a mirror manger scene I made with glass etching acid, and 1 ½ cat faces. One of the most moving human interest videos I‘ve seen is a man begging for his cat to be saved and his reaction when they are reunited. It’s a little hard to watch. As one friend noted, imagine the impact on the animals, domesticated or not. And rebuilding thousands of homes? I don’t know.

Forget what you may be hearing. Just be kind. What you do matters more than what you say anyway.

In 1970, Maurice Sagoff published a work called Shrinklits in which he summarized (in verse no less) 70 famous literary works. I’ve had it for years and find it more accurate than the nefarious Cliff Notes. But I don’t know if the 70 in 1970 is a thing.

Here is an example/excerpt remarkable because the word “wise” appears throughout Homer’s work:

The Odyssey
When wise Odysseus left for Troy,
He thought he’d be back soon to enjoy
His Ithacan life. But gods had in store
A twenty-year journey ‘ere he reached his shore.

Last Wednesday, my car battery died. The next day, I bought a new one. During that time, I listened to WRR 101.1 with this program for Wednesday and this playlist for Thursday.

That opening, dear readers, is my Shrinklit of an amazingly long process that, in my mind anyway, contained humor with the frustration, insights into human foibles with the intricacies of communication.

What follows, then, is the odyssey. Yes, I know today’s title is misspelled. Made you look.

The Long Version

The word “battery” has three definitions before we get to electricity though it’s our first meaning to hear. Usually. After my recent Thursday, I invite you to consider the first three: the act of beating someone repeatedly (as in “assault and battery”); a group of artillery pieces for tactical use ( a battery of cannon); a military unit which uses said pieces. You may also know of a battery of tests, either medical or educational. The root means “to beat.”  From beat to peas…

Some traditions cross slightly with irrational superstitions which have lost any original meaning. Black-eyed peas are eaten in the South on New Year’s Day to ensure good luck. Apparently, adding collard greens (green for money) and cornbread (gold) seal the deal. My family didn’t get the collard memo. We ate them all the time—delicious with ham hock or salt pork—but not as a traditional part of the holiday meal. Maybe that explains a lot.

So, when I realized it was time for dinner on Wednesday, I also realized I only had dried black-eyes on hand. Canned or fresh are far better, and the store was near. The day had been quiet but productive; of course, I thought other people should know: “So by noon I had walked on my new  walking pad (thanks DJ and Katherine), done scripture study during that time, cleaned the range, learned about a tribe that mostly lives underwater, listened to the overture to Candide, and probably some other things I forgot.” People did realize this was news and not my usual. Maybe the entire episode stems from this karmic brag. Exponentially.

I sat in the car per usual and put my right foot on the brake as I pushed the start button. The result was not the delightful engine rush but insanity: Lights flashed, error lights blinked, brake pedal jammed. I had no idea what was happening with all this drama. Then, nothing. I called my clear-thinking brother. “Does your horn honk?” Ah. Of course. The battery. No, it didn’t and neither did anything else. The light show was over.

This is as good a place as any to explain the Female Approach to Car Maintenance. Gas and oil changes. That’s it. We’re always surprised at the need for batteries and tires. A particularly well-educated friend just had to be jumped twice after being told she needed a new battery. She didn’t believe it. Twice. A dear mechanic once told me I needed new tires. Twice, adding the second time he wouldn’t do my oil change if I came back in without having made the recommended purchase. I mean, that’s a thousand dollars! But I did go back, and he did refuse service. Humbled, I went to Costco and bought the tires. A wise Male Response to Female Stubbornness?

USAA sent two men over with a handy-dandy handheld starter that got the car going. I’ll call them Albert and Beto (not their real names but a pattern will emerge) knew what to do but not how to tell if the battery was bad. The thing was starting up, and AutoZone tests and replaces batteries. Off I went. (The Evening Concert on New Year’s Day at WRR is from Vienna lasts from 6-9 pm. Conducted by Riccardo Muti, the Philharmonic performs lots of polkas, marches, and waltzes by Strass father and son. The program is here. Up for the 2.5-hour entirety? BBC brings it to you here. Just “The Beautiful Blue Danube”? Go to 2:14:09 for their second encore. “The Radetzky March” is traditionally the final encore. People like to clap along. Perhaps you do (or will) too. Andre Rieu has a lively version at only 1:39; his women players get to wear ball gowns. A compilation back and forth across decades with many different conductors, different tempos but played through.

Carmen was in the nearest one though I had to call to see if they were open because the lights were on, barely, and not a single car was in the parking lot. Carmen, a particularly young woman who seemed particularly enthusiastic, brought out her machine but didn’t know how to open the hood (necessary because I didn’t…see above). She found it. She could find one battery lead because it’s in plain sight (even I could have done that), but she could not figure out how to engage the second one because it’s under a bunch of unnamed black plastic stuff. Carmen tried and tried without success in maneuvering the bulky clamp under the stuff. She gave up. It was my conclusion in support that clearly the design forced me to go to the dealership. Notably, I have not bought a car other than this one at a dealership since that 1990 Saturn which had 13 miles on it (yes, I hesitated). I sat in the car while I looked up another AutoZone. Carmen, cheerful but possibly needed more training.

The second AZ was 4.2 miles away. I didn’t go in because they don’t have their own parking lot, and it wasn’t immediately clear they shared one with Pep Boys. Dolores, an older young woman who was the manager, asked me to pop the hood which I did having learned how 10 minutes earlier. She figured out how to get to the second lead by removing some of the plastic stuff but not how to get the clamp to attach well enough to test. We worked and worked. It was cold and dark and not the best neighborhood. I held her phone flashlight and propped up the air intake cover (the name for the stuff, I learned). Delores talked under her breath a lot. She did not want to give up, which succeeded for access but not for implementation. I told her I’d be back.

Since the car seemed to be starting after being turned off, I stopped at the grocery store for a can of black-eyed peas. Only three left that weren’t jalapeno-flavored. They were quite delicious.

The next morning, I continued my cleaning stint. Floors were swept and mopped, polish applied, Christmas put away. I did a third day of walking and tripled my initial time. By 1:00 it was time to resume the battery quest. Because Costco is my go-to for tires, I called to see what they had in the way of batteries. Edgar answered and was cheerful. With my car info, he suggested ab H6 (48) AGM because using Bluetooth requires extra oomph (no, he didn’t use that word). At the time, a 3-year warranty seemed inadequate for $179, and he verified I hadn’t bought a battery from them for this car anyway. Plus, they don’t install.

I called my mechanic Eduardo to ask his price for installation. $95! But he encouraged me to go to AutoZone. Better for me, he said.

Further consultation with brother who knows everything (re cars) revealed that Costco batteries “aren’t what they used to be.” I don’t know what that means, but having told two AZ people I’d come back, that became the plan. The car started. I was pleased.

At the original AutoZone, Finn shared that I hadn’t purchased a battery from them for this car. By now I was wondering how the thing was starting the car at all. Finn noted that he had experience with my car’s configuration and could test the battery without hooking a clamp to the second lead. Result: Bad battery. Time to buy! Looking at the possibilities on the screen, we could see the cheapest was $79 for a one-month warranty battery. I can see that if you want to get rid of the car, you get the cheapest possible battery. I didn’t want to do this every month so we looked at his other options. The $139 one also didn’t look particularly suitable with a one-year warranty, but for $179 with adequate power was also a better possibility but also just a one-year warrant. I began to question why I’d questioned the 3-year warranty. Finn recommended it didn’t have one in stock. Of course. I asked him to see who else might, and, yes, the nearest location did have what we wanted. Per his screen. I asked if he could install it if they couldn’t; Carmen the night before said they weren’t supposed to if it was as complicated as mine. He would be glad to if I could get back by 5. I didn’t mention Carmen.

Faure wrote achingly beautiful melodies. This “Pavane” includes a famous flute passage. Full orchestra version by a young group in Cracow or flute and harp duet. Lots of repetition of the melody like in Ravel’s “Bolero.”

Nice weather, not cold, and I felt so optimistic. This was a clear mistake. Gwyneth, assistant manager, was at the AZ #2 to assist. She spoke in an unnecessarily loud voice. When we looked at her screen, no such battery as the $179 one existed. It just simply wasn’t there. I assured her I had SEEN IT MYSELF. I don’t think she believed me. She did have one for $199, but it was not what Finn recommended. She called the original store to see if they had one, which I just told her they didn’t. It all became rather circular. Gwyneth accidentally hung up on them anyway. Rather than wait for her to call them back in her too-loud voice, I told her I’d come back. I just wanted to leave.

Back in the car. What about John Williams’ “Imperial March”? Here he conducts the Vienna Phil; you’ll recognize the hall.

Next idea was to call Garage Radillo (my oil change place) to see what they would charge to install a battery from Costco. Hawkeye said $25 but free if it was their battery. He got the specs and went to check for one. I could have told him they wouldn’t have it. When he figured that out, he encouraged me to come back the next day when the owner would be there. He did agree to let me come by just to make sure they really could install a Costco battery. When I arrived, assistant manager Ike went again to check inventory and again, still, they didn’t have it. So, I asked if he could install one from Costco. His reply: “Sure, for $20.” Obviously an ethical dilemma but off I go.

At Costco, Jared looked up what I already knew and went for the battery. I was pleased with the price and the warranty. Needing a cart, I asked Kathy who was standing in the general area. She said, “Just take it,” but she seemed sincere unlike the unkind words. Jared finished the paperwork, reminded me to bring back the old one for $15, and loaded it into the cart using both hands. Lucian put it into the trunk using one hand. To ameliorate the ethical dilemma by using cash, I ran by Wells Fargo. Not sure if that’s adequate. Now we have a long piece, Richard Strauss’ “Ein Heldenleben” (A Hero’s Life), playing for about the next hour. Here you can watch with the score. Quite dramatic. Richard’s not related to the dance Strauss family but has a fascinating 20^th century story during World War II.

Savvy, confident Ike did the install quickly, and I paid Hawkeye who explained that everything has gone up because parts are higher, but not labor. That doesn’t explain why there’s a $5 difference since it was labor, but hey. It’s cash. Halfway home, I realized that I wasn’t sure Ike had put the battery in the trunk so I could get my core fee back at Costco. I called and Hawkeye said no, in fact they had kept the battery: “You want it back?” My simple yes seemed sufficient.

I drove back to the shop and when he loaded it up, I saw that Ike had not reinstalled the cover for the air intake. Hawkeye and I snapped it back, and Ike came over to make sure everything was fine. I had come back, after all. Yes, fine, but I commented that losing power usually resets my garage door opener. A random comment, but he pulled out his card and said this is actually his second job. He does house maintenance with his son, Monte. Hurray! I do need someone reasonable. His example of $85 to install a ceiling fan sounded reasonable. We agreed that this is a “meant to be” moment. Back to Costco.

Encouraged by all this exercise and a fourth day on the walking pad, I unloaded the battery by myself. 40 pounds maybe but I was tired of all the delays. Jared was working with someone else when I arrived, Nichelle. She also had a battery in her cart. “And the man told me I’d get $30 back for it.” She was quite insistent even though Jared pointed at all available signage that says $15. He even comes out from behind the counter for one example. Manager Orville came out to assist even while Nichelle persists over and over with “But he told me $30.” The two men are clearly torn between the customer is right and so sorry but no.

Finally, Jared just asks, “Cash or back on your card?” Nichelle takes cash and leaves. Obviously overwhelmed with all that, he neglects to comment on my awesome achievement of picking up the battery by myself. He took Nichelle’s spent battery and Percy came out to process mine. “On the card,” I say.

That, dear friends, was how a transaction that should have taken 20 minutes took place over hours and days. Because I don’t make things up, here’s the last piece, John Adams’ “Short Ride on a Fast Machine” conducted by Marin Alsop. She does a great job and looks as if she’s working, not waving a baton.

By the numbers: 17 people contacted (14 of those just once). 5 businesses involved (4 of them twice). 1 ethical dilemma mitigated by 1 future contact to potentially redeem error. 3 years of not worrying about a battery which would never be thought of anyway.

Lessons learned: None. Thankful for the brother, a reliable car, people who helped, a sense of humor about the absurdity.impossibility of communication. Continuing awareness that easy things never are.