i'm finally answering lisa b's call to declare three things I love. So, for today:
sky: I love watching the sky, any kind of sky (oh, except that gunky yellow mid-winter, SL inversion sky, which luckily we are short on this year). I prefer the daytime sky to the nighttime sky. I want clouds and sun and movement. Yes, sky.
this new cd of underground post-punk music from China: it's called Look Directly Into the Sun. I heard about it on Fresh Air. it rocks and I will be listening to it incessantly for the next few days.
my voice: i am voiceless today, so i am thinking about how much I love to talk and teach and call people on the phone. voices are amazing--the way we can recognize a person by voice, the way we can tell how someone is feeling or maybe even what they are thinking just by slight tonal differences. a couple of years ago, when we canoed the Green River we ran into a group that planned to paddle for seven days in silence. I think that's stupid. Silence is good of course, in some circustances, but seven days without the sound of a voice misses all that's beautiful in the sound of a human voice.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
sobering
I spent my morning at the state historical archives trying to find out some information about my great-grandmother. Until recently, I've never thought much about my great-grandmother. Her husband, my great-grandfather, was a guide in southern utah, a teller of tall tales, a folkloric, heroic sort of figure. He's attractive and compelling; I can mention his name to people who know about the southwest and they know him and they're charmed that I belong to him. I have a certain sort of longing for him, wishing I could have known him, wishing I could have accompanied him on a few adventures. I have spent hours researching, reading, writing about him.
I know very little about Annetta, my great-grandmother. As with most women of the past, her story is hidden behind the lives of men. Family stories about her mention her apple pie, her penuche fudge, her honey candy. And her mental illness. Her illness is mentioned, but in a hushed way, not out of shame but out of misunderstanding, ignorance. No one really knows what happened to her. Her daughter, my grandmother, had her own battle with mental illness, so I don't think she wanted to talk about the sorrows of her mother's life.
I never gave her much thought because it was Zeke who interested me. The family lore about Zeke and Annetta was that Zeke loved her dearly; she was the mother of his five children. As I researched Zeke's desert adventures, I also learned that Annetta was not Zeke's first wife. I learned that after Annetta, Zeke married three more women (he outlived all but the last). I learned that Zeke divorced Annetta. While she was a patient at the Utah State Hospital. Where she died.
Annetta could have been released from the hospital but no one came for her.
She was a patient at the hospital for seven years, six months, and twenty-five days.
Her diagnosis: manic depression, paranoia, psychosis.
Today, I read reports of conditions at the Utah State Hospital from the Board of Insanity. They categorized patients' likelihood of recovery into three categories: favorable, doubtful, and hopeless. Most patients were either in the "doubtful" and "hopeless" categories. This was not a place to get better. Each patient had approximately 35 square feet of living space, 398 cubic feet of air space, and 52 square feet of bed space. At the time, one of the most popular treatments was hydrotherapy which described a range of procedures: prolonged baths of sometimes days, showers with pressurized water, and wrapping in wet sheets that would dry and shrink around the patient.
There is more to learn.
I feel awkward writing this post--it feels so personal. I am trying to write an essay about Annetta, so I guess this is my beginning. And, beyond that, I guess I want someone to hear her story, to know the life that she lived. Thanks for hearing her story.
I know very little about Annetta, my great-grandmother. As with most women of the past, her story is hidden behind the lives of men. Family stories about her mention her apple pie, her penuche fudge, her honey candy. And her mental illness. Her illness is mentioned, but in a hushed way, not out of shame but out of misunderstanding, ignorance. No one really knows what happened to her. Her daughter, my grandmother, had her own battle with mental illness, so I don't think she wanted to talk about the sorrows of her mother's life.
I never gave her much thought because it was Zeke who interested me. The family lore about Zeke and Annetta was that Zeke loved her dearly; she was the mother of his five children. As I researched Zeke's desert adventures, I also learned that Annetta was not Zeke's first wife. I learned that after Annetta, Zeke married three more women (he outlived all but the last). I learned that Zeke divorced Annetta. While she was a patient at the Utah State Hospital. Where she died.
Annetta could have been released from the hospital but no one came for her.
She was a patient at the hospital for seven years, six months, and twenty-five days.
Her diagnosis: manic depression, paranoia, psychosis.
Today, I read reports of conditions at the Utah State Hospital from the Board of Insanity. They categorized patients' likelihood of recovery into three categories: favorable, doubtful, and hopeless. Most patients were either in the "doubtful" and "hopeless" categories. This was not a place to get better. Each patient had approximately 35 square feet of living space, 398 cubic feet of air space, and 52 square feet of bed space. At the time, one of the most popular treatments was hydrotherapy which described a range of procedures: prolonged baths of sometimes days, showers with pressurized water, and wrapping in wet sheets that would dry and shrink around the patient.
There is more to learn.
I feel awkward writing this post--it feels so personal. I am trying to write an essay about Annetta, so I guess this is my beginning. And, beyond that, I guess I want someone to hear her story, to know the life that she lived. Thanks for hearing her story.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Co-opting Optimism
Last week, at our semesterly professional depression day, I maade the mistake of going to a workshop that was all about positive thinking or something. There were paper crowns and noisemakers and it was supposed to make us all excited to start the new semester. I went to the workshop to support a friend (whom I adore); I should perhaps have considered that friendship demands limits.
Part of the workshop was a pep-talk video from a National Geographic photographer whose key message was to "celebrate what's right with the world." He made a few insightful points and showed a variety of beautiful photographs. But as gorgeous pictures of nature continued to flash on the screen I couldn't help thinking, "what about deforestation, what about the giant heaps of garbage in the ocean, what about the melting glaciers?" I wanted to bring up these issues, but I knew that I would immediately be labeled as a cynic or as a student called me last semester, "a hater."
The truth is, I'm not a cynic. I think you should celebrate what's right with the world, but you shouldn't ignore what's wrong with the world. I am enthusiastic about teaching, but I'm also concerned about the pressure to work more for raises that we already deserve. I want to talk about what's right and wrong with the world.
I was stewing after that workshop, but in the end I'm glad I went because it made me realize a few things. Primarily, optimism has been entirely co-opted and redefined as a naive, feel-good approach to life. Optimism has been reduced to the wacko realm of The Secret where you only have to believe to achieve. All of this optimist rhetoric makes me feel like a cynic because I sure as hell don't believe that the universe is just waiting for me to tell it what I want I need.
But I'm not a cynic. I'm truly not. I'm not a feel-good optimist either and sometimes it feels like there isn't an option between the two.
The same night, I finally watched An Inconvenient Truth. Towards the end, Gore mentioned how the trouble with responding to global warming is that people often go from denial to despair without pausing to consider the space between--the space where one might actually do something. There is a lot right with the world, but there is a lot wrong--you don't have to select one view over the other. You can look at what's right as motivation to change what is wrong.
Perhaps this all seems simple, but it was quite a revelation to me. I used to be a fairly naive optimist. My mom once told me that I was only an optimist because I was young and nothing bad had ever happened to me. Yikes. I certainly chafed at that prouncement, which to me just confirmed my mom's role as a cynic. Eventually, I realized that she could have been right and if pressed in the past few years to decide whether I were an optimist or a pessimist I would have chosen the latter. I accepted that fact with a distinct longing for my former optimisim. Now, I am starting to realize that this is a false choice, that it's perfectly possible to be both.
Part of the workshop was a pep-talk video from a National Geographic photographer whose key message was to "celebrate what's right with the world." He made a few insightful points and showed a variety of beautiful photographs. But as gorgeous pictures of nature continued to flash on the screen I couldn't help thinking, "what about deforestation, what about the giant heaps of garbage in the ocean, what about the melting glaciers?" I wanted to bring up these issues, but I knew that I would immediately be labeled as a cynic or as a student called me last semester, "a hater."
The truth is, I'm not a cynic. I think you should celebrate what's right with the world, but you shouldn't ignore what's wrong with the world. I am enthusiastic about teaching, but I'm also concerned about the pressure to work more for raises that we already deserve. I want to talk about what's right and wrong with the world.
I was stewing after that workshop, but in the end I'm glad I went because it made me realize a few things. Primarily, optimism has been entirely co-opted and redefined as a naive, feel-good approach to life. Optimism has been reduced to the wacko realm of The Secret where you only have to believe to achieve. All of this optimist rhetoric makes me feel like a cynic because I sure as hell don't believe that the universe is just waiting for me to tell it what I want I need.
But I'm not a cynic. I'm truly not. I'm not a feel-good optimist either and sometimes it feels like there isn't an option between the two.
The same night, I finally watched An Inconvenient Truth. Towards the end, Gore mentioned how the trouble with responding to global warming is that people often go from denial to despair without pausing to consider the space between--the space where one might actually do something. There is a lot right with the world, but there is a lot wrong--you don't have to select one view over the other. You can look at what's right as motivation to change what is wrong.
Perhaps this all seems simple, but it was quite a revelation to me. I used to be a fairly naive optimist. My mom once told me that I was only an optimist because I was young and nothing bad had ever happened to me. Yikes. I certainly chafed at that prouncement, which to me just confirmed my mom's role as a cynic. Eventually, I realized that she could have been right and if pressed in the past few years to decide whether I were an optimist or a pessimist I would have chosen the latter. I accepted that fact with a distinct longing for my former optimisim. Now, I am starting to realize that this is a false choice, that it's perfectly possible to be both.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
nine reasons I have not been blogging
It's almost been a month--a month people!--since I have blogged. I know that each of you has taken a few moments in your holiday bliss to cry a little about this and for that I am sorry. But I have good reasons.
1. I had to sleep--a lot.
2. I had a lot of things to read. To facilitate this reading, I also had to make several trips to the bookstore and finally pay off my $100 bill for library fines.
3. I had to bake: pumpkin pie, cherry pie, the best chocolate chip cookies ever, linzer cookies, graham crackers, marshmallows, a trifle (which included days of concocting a recipe--it included blood oranges and it tasted like a creamscicle!).
3. I had to travel to Virginia for a job interview in a city where we eventually decided not to move.
4. I had to contemplate my future life in the cold, cold north of Canadia.
5. I had to go shopping for new pants, because all of my pants started falling apart or mysteriously started shrinking.
6. I had to think about how to pull off a wedding without doing any actual planning.
7. I had to write syllabi (which I still haven't finished--why am I blogging?)
8. I had to watch movies, both in the theater and at home: Golden Compass, Walk Hard, Sweeney Todd, Midnight Cowboy, Once, Purple Rain, Hot Fuzz (again!), Super Bad.
9. I had to go to Montana where I had to eat a lot and sleep and play clue and go skiing.
1. I had to sleep--a lot.
2. I had a lot of things to read. To facilitate this reading, I also had to make several trips to the bookstore and finally pay off my $100 bill for library fines.
3. I had to bake: pumpkin pie, cherry pie, the best chocolate chip cookies ever, linzer cookies, graham crackers, marshmallows, a trifle (which included days of concocting a recipe--it included blood oranges and it tasted like a creamscicle!).
3. I had to travel to Virginia for a job interview in a city where we eventually decided not to move.
4. I had to contemplate my future life in the cold, cold north of Canadia.
5. I had to go shopping for new pants, because all of my pants started falling apart or mysteriously started shrinking.
6. I had to think about how to pull off a wedding without doing any actual planning.
7. I had to write syllabi (which I still haven't finished--why am I blogging?)
8. I had to watch movies, both in the theater and at home: Golden Compass, Walk Hard, Sweeney Todd, Midnight Cowboy, Once, Purple Rain, Hot Fuzz (again!), Super Bad.
9. I had to go to Montana where I had to eat a lot and sleep and play clue and go skiing.
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