You are currently browsing the monthly archive for September, 2007.
Yeah, I know.
I haven’t been saying much in a long time. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told me that. Not even the hundredth time.
But, I have been listening and I’ve been listening to this
Great stuff.
I’ll get back to talking one day soon.
Yesterday, after taking Jeffrey to school and making my drive by the elementary school on the way to use the Internet, someone pulled out behind me in what looked to be a brand new black BMW convertible with the top down.
Upon speeding past me, I caught a glimpse of the driver and my jaw dropped.
It was Lin Dunn. Lin Dunn — standout basketball player at Dresden High School and UTM, instrumental in elevating women’s basketball to a whole new level in college play (She played back in the day when the women’s teams had to sleep in the locker rooms in sleeping bags and bring their own lunches consisting of mostly bologna and crackers), coach of the Purdue Lady Boilermakers and eventually coach of a few professional teams.
Lin Dunn. Right up there on the “Welcome to Dresden” sign along with McWherter and Popeye Jones.
But to everyone around here, she’s just Lin. She graduated high school with my uncle.
I’ve never met her, but the one time I interviewed her, I called her cell phone and when she found out where I was from, she giggled and asked, “Do you know where I am, Sara? I’m at the airport in the Czech Republic.”
Lin Dunn.
It absolutely made my day.
I’ve been keeping an especially close eye on any and every piece of news I can obtain relating to the “Jena 6” case and while pondering each editorial and front page story talking about the event, as usual, I got off on another tangent.
I really have no idea how this sprang up from the Jena story…well, maybe I do a little bit…but Finn and I were discussing it yesterday and I think it would be a great idea for a paper if anyone wants to take it up and expound upon it.
The thesis statement would go something along the lines of (but of course, not quite this long)……Very few movies follow the books they were based on to a tee. In the film version, there are always fine details left out and sometimes, details added in for greater effect. The book, To Kill a Mockingbird, is told from a child’s point of view and to be more specific, Scout’s point of view, but the movie, though it’s narrated by Scout, leans toward the viewpoint of Atticus. Symbolically, there are a few things in the movie and the book that the mockingbird stands for BUT, because the book is told from a child’s perspective — a child who has not been exposed as greatly to the concept of racism as an adult (Atticus) would have been except through what other children’s parents (Cecil Jacobs) told the child about what Atticus was doing — the symbolic mockingbird changes to something that is a larger part of childhood, a bully. And in this case, it’s the supposedly crazy Boo Radley who proves himself to be the mockingbird from the child’s viewpoint because, in the end, he did nothing but help.
In the movie, however, from the viewpoint of Atticus, the complex concept of racism becomes the focal point and the symbolic mockingbird is Tom Robinson, an innocent man convicted of a crime and later killed because he tried to “fly away.”
Two viewpoints. Two concepts. Two paths to take. I think this would be a very interesting paper if someone would take it on.
Go for it!
Taken at a friend’s farm after the short spell of rain.
Here’s a pic I recently took of Elizabeth after her first day at work at Baptist Memorial Hospital in Union City. Right now, she’s going through a sort of orientation process and working a 7 to 7 shift most everyday, but she’s really raking it in, so I don’t feel sorry for her.
To my brother Jeffrey. He turned 16 on Sept. 18.
Stay off the roads, people, if you value your life.
Ah, the lovely conclusion to the Chinese meal….the fortune cookie. The cookie is filled with a encouraging (yet, for the most part, untrue) statement about possible future wealth and happiness. Right? Right? Or at least, it’s supposed to be.
My cookie yesterday read, “Your luck is just not there. Attend to practical matters.”
UGH!!!!!!!! At least lie to me!
Message seen recently on a local church sign……
“Jesus is comming soon. Are you ready?”
So, are you trying to tell us that the coming is M-inent? 
We huddled around the table last night, throwing around ideas, dates and times. Different people walked in at different times and though I expected the meeting to be a little more formal, the constant stream of people walking in and the city recorder’s walking out every five minutes gave the room an atmosphere of complete informality despite the fact that we were discussing serious business.
The Parks and Recreation director was adamant. Certain dates were deemed as much better than others and past profits were considered. There was a lot of head shaking and nodding, smiling and frowning, understanding and misunderstanding, but we finally left discussion and moved across the street to investigation and assignment, otherwise known as the hands on part of the meeting.
As we walked through the building and decided on where things should go and who should go where, I saw it. The perfect room for me to be successful in this new and scary endeavor, so I jumped at the chance to take it before anyone else could make a move.
Now, I just have to decide on a costume and a name.
I’m officially the newest member of the annual Sharon Haunted Theatre.
Where’dja think I was? A board meeting?
Be afraid.
So I did it again. I stayed up very very late to watch “Hustle and Flow” yet again and in my 57th official viewing of the movie, I came to a realization. While I do love the movie, I harbor a complete and total crush on……
TERRENCE HOWARD!!!!
Talented, intelligent and hot. He’s got the entire package.
So, there. I’ve wasted valuable posting space on this, but I suppose it’s better than not posting at all…..or some people would say so.
I leave you with another glimpse of Terrence.
A great big happy birthday to Mrs. Sue Ellen Pritchett, piano teacher extraordinaire who educated half of Dresden on scales.
She no longer lives here so I’m sending her birthday wishes to Lexington, her new home.
A 9:30 geography class lay on the morning’s horizon, but the television lay closer for the moment and while preparing for the first dive of the day into academia, it suddenly became eerily necessary to bring the electronic object to life.
On punching the power button, the headlines and top stories filled the screen and I kept one eye on it while keeping one hand on my book bag and aiming one foot toward the door, but the sudden notification of breaking news forced me to quickly reverse my path and I stared at the happenings on the screen as someone would gaze upon words already read or deeds already done. It simply had to be a rerun.
But, no, channel six proclaimed that this was live coverage and that the two smoking, burning twin towers of the World Trade Center had just been slammed into by passenger jets — the same towers I had seen with my own eyes in person only a few months before.
And I turned on autopilot.
But, I remember getting into the car and driving to the university.
Simon was waiting for me exactly where he said he would be right outside the side door of the business administration building. His white Taiwanese skin had grown even whiter and the blue shirt he was wearing only served to further bring out the unnatural tone. I could almost see the heart beating out of him before he grabbed me into a hug and refused to let go.
His words are as familiar now as they’d be if he’d just spoken them mere minutes ago.
“I’m so scared. I’m so scared. I’m an international student so I’m afraid everyone will hate me and be suspicious of me now.”
Simon’s English had steadily improved since we’d started dating, but his words rang out as clearly as if I’d just uttered them myself.
I told him that he could just come with me to geography class and play hooky from accounting for the day.
And I remember our walk across the campus. His sweaty hand squeezing mine. His shaky walking steering us off course into the freshly manicured grass. Everyone’s eyes gazing into the eyes of the people walking by. Holding fear, suspicion and despair. Searching for help, hope and friendship.
Televisions lit up the dull brown natural sciences building like Christmas trees, but the news was no gift. Classrooms stood empty. Professors and students crowded around the T.V.’s.
For the remainder of the day, classes focused not on the subjects, but on the expression of long-held fears, hopes and dreams. The entire campus became one united confession session no longer separated by bricks and mortar, but spilling out into the outdoors — the land in need of a band aide and the students willing to administer the medicine while, in the process, healing each other through taking the time to listen.
Strange how being wide awake can sometimes bring dreams that have hiding for years suddenly to the surface.
As all the usual events of the day faded into the background, at the same time, walking to class never seemed so vivid.
Football football everywhere and not much else in sight, so to summarize this weekend’s events (and because football is very much on my mind), I’d like to go over the activities as a series of victories and defeats with most everything, thankfully, falling into the W column.
Yay, Go Team: Once again, Mighty Michigan fell at home and this time, fans pouring into the Big House witnessed the flying of the Ducks — the Oregon Ducks, that is — as the Pac-10 feathered fowl filleted the Wolverines 39-7 and executed not only a beautiful Statue of Liberty play, but showcased an even more fantastic fake Statue of Liberty play. Keeping up with this year’s Cinderella, App. State scored another victory by trouncing its opponent this week.
The Vols took it to the Southern Miss Golden Eagles, 39-19, and are back at .500 at 1-1 on the season. Next week, gah, they must face Florida in Gainesville.
The Titans outlasted the Jacksonville Jaguars, 13-10, to start the season off on the right foot.
In non-sports victories, I will now promote a great little pizza joint located in downtown Union City called Sole Baking Co. Recommended to me by Squirrel Queen, the new restaurant offers very good brick oven pizza at a very reasonable price. And I ain’t really a pizza fan….well, unless you remove the cheese.
Yesterday, I went over to celebrate Bro. Finn’s birthday with Maw Finn, Paw Finn, The Accountant and Finn. Someone needs to write a book about this great group of people, uh, Finn. Bro. Finn proved himself to be quite the master chef at the grill and whipped us up some fantastic burgers, dogs and bologna. Over some awesome b-day cake, I heard wonderful and legendary tales of Finn’s first car, The Accountant’s past dream of working on a boat in Alaska, labrador BMs, and even some noteworthy lecturing and sermonizing from Paw Finn on ”Perrennialls,” health insurance and myspace. Such a great bunch. I wish everyone could know them as I do.
And now…..
Better luck next time, team: Vandy fell to ‘Bama, 24-10, but hopefully, John H., they’ll rebound against Ole Miss this week.
My alma mater fell to the Trenton Peabody Golden Tide, 42-6, this past Friday night putting them at 1-2 on the season in a very tough region.
The Cards? Well, I’m just not even going to express my disappointment in them. Just know that I’m disappointed and that’s that.
Not too bad, eh? Here’s to a great week for everyone filled with more perrennialls than lab doo.
Ever notice how danged hard it is to get back into blogging regularly when you’ve been a bit on the lazy side and haven’t blogged in a week because nothing’s happened and you can’t find anything to talk about? Okay, it’s just me? Disregard that then.
Did happen upon a very funny search subject today that takes the cake for the most interesting yet. Lately, people have happened upon this blog because they’ve searched for everything from Holstein cows to church homecomings to rat terrier hysterectomies, but today someone came to this page because they’d been searching for “God revival Finn.” No joke. That’s what it said.
Bear with me as I search high and low for something to talk about when absolutely nothing is going on. I love a good challenge.
Even if a few of my relatives come from Michigan…..they root for the Trojans anyway.
Yay Appalachian State!!!
Early this morning, I flipped on the television and much to my surprise and great satisfaction, found that TNT had decided to air Gone with the Wind specially for the Labor Day weekend. As I drifted into and out of sleep while managing to wake up during my favorite parts and in between dreams of being laced up into corsets and living in mansions in Atlanta, I had one of my most startling realizations to date.
Gone with the Wind, one of the most misunderstood pieces of work in all of literature, IS The Wizard of Oz. It’s The Wizard of Oz all grown up and set in the South. The theme is the same. Think about it. Dig deeply. L. Frank Baum’s objective for a largely child-based audience of readers was Margaret Mitchell’s basic goal for her older targeted audience of readers. But before I attempt to prove my point, we’ll go over once again what Gone with the Wind is not or what it’s been confused as being.
For many people, or at least for people who have only just glanced over its 1,037 pages or peeked at its four-hour film version, Gone with the Wind is….
1. A romance. Well, yes it is, but it’s only a small layer of the bigger picture. Scarlett’s pseudo-love for Ashley Wilkes and her pseudo-love for two other husbands followed by her love for Rhett do make up a large portion of the plot, but one-dimensional plots don’t get played over and over again over the years and garner large legions of fans over nearly 70 years after their original printing and showing.
Other people attempting to get away from the romantic aspect admire the book and film for their attention to……
2. History. Though this is not as widely held onto by readers, the work does accurately pay attention and take notice of important occurrences during the American Civil War — mostly accentuating its toll taken on civilians of the war. However, it does highlight a changing society in which Americans, and primarily those from the South, must deal with change after their world has been ripped right out from under them and they are forced to adapt to a loss and a new life.
But really, it’s a story of…..
3. Survival. Taking the elements of love and war and twining them together, we get the story of Scarlett, a pampered and spoiled Southern Belle, whose dreams of love and romance and frivolities that came with her world are quickly transformed into realities of getting through a changing world when those dreams are snatched from her. The temptation of Ashley Wilkes and the desire to win him over push her to run away from her home (here we go) and on her way, she encounters friends with much more heart than brain most of the time (Melanie Wilkes), more brain than heart (those people who insist on pushing her into the new world) and those who remain cowardly and are “winnowed out” (Ashley Wilkes when he realizes that his world can never remain). The Wizard, er, I mean, The War has the power to give and take these things away from them. They are walking down a path in search of these items that will make them happier and Scarlett wants to find love and she wants to find the world she used to have, but ultimately, Dorothy lives within her and when everything else is taken away, she realizes that she just wants to go home. Her love for everything else was really and truly a love of her home and the place she came from and when she realizes this, she only has a desire to go back.
Take that basic element, throw in a few munchkins and you have The Wizard of Oz. Take The Wizard of Oz, add a few twists and turns, a few changes in character and you have Gone with the Wind. Dorothy never had to leave home to realize her happiness. It was the same for Scarlett.
“It’s where you draw your strength — the red earth of Tara.”……. “Something you love better than me, though you may not know it….Tara.”….. “Do you mean to tell me, Katie Scarlett O’Hara, that Tara, that land doesn’t mean anything to you. Why land’s the only thing worth working for, worth fighting for, worth dying for, because it’s the only thing that lasts.”
“There’s no place like home.”
Ah, I’ve been bitten by the nostalgia bug and for me, nostalgia, once it gets into my system, is like a disease that begs to be voiced. Yes, I do have a horrible habit every now and then of getting a whiff of summer air tinged with just the faintest scent of the coming fall and it makes me dive into the past. It makes me wish for things that once were. People who once were around but are no longer. Events which have been forgotten.
Luckily, this case of nostalgia is far less serious than most of my cases and, so far, is only making me think back to last year about this time and recall what was happening.
On this day last year…..
The Tennessee Vols had absolutely stunned Cal (and hopefully, to the great chagrin of the prognosticators, they’ll do it again this year).
I was in Paris at Jack Jones meeting Heather for coffee (isn’t it funny how coffee comes into most every conversation lately).
Later on, we went to Claude and Willie’s (a great little soda fountain in Gleason which is no longer in existence….talk about nostalgia).
I could already smell the fried catfish and feel the melting ice cream from our church’s annual picnic at Reelfoot Lake.
I was going to interview Finn and Maw Finn for their work which had been included in an anthology (my first meeting with the Finnster).
Maybe nostalgia isn’t such a terrible disease after all. Anyway, I hope these temperatures will stay around for a bit longer….for everyone’s sake.
Yesterday, on my trip to Dover seeking out the Stewart County High School Rebels football facility, I spotted something in the little speed-trap-ridden city that caught my eye and forced me to pull over and take a second glance.
Could it be? Was it possible? Had I seen a mirage? No, it was in fact a coffee shop (I’m truly bloodhound like in my attempts to find them) and the name kept me giggling for hours. The name of the coffee shop in Dover is…..oh, I almost can’t stand it……. Cup of Doodle Brew!!!
I swear, when I have more time, I’m going back to that place. Anyone who wants is invited to join me. Don’t all raise your hands at once.
What do you say?