It only seems appropriate to follow up the baring of my teenage soul via poetry and pictures (and thank you all for your kind words. You all rock. Come on over so I can make you a non-teenagery margarita, will you?) with a letter to my teenage self. I read the first one of these over at RimaRama (and it was hysterical, like every post she writes, that crazy Lithuanian!) and apparently her post was a response to Amy's writing challenge to write a letter to yourself when you were 14-17.
(the name is the name of my super character from the cartoon series my best friend and I used to write - I use her super name, too)
Dearest Owell,
Relax. Please, relax. You are absolutely lovely.
Stand up straight. Yes, I know that makes you taller than nearly every boy at school, but do it anyways. And you really don't need to hide behind those huge clothes. Super skinny girls won't be all the rage until you are no longer one of them, but you can still be proud of your figure.
Relax. You have a wonderful friendship. Bertha may get distracted now and then by her current boyfriend, but you know that she is always there for you. Enjoy your time together, and keep that friendship strong. Trust me on this one, we still hang out when we happen to be in the same state.
Relax. Those boys? They are a bit scared of you, it's true. You're smart, and you're not willing to compromise your values. Those are good things. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Oh, and you're taller than them. Although I still suspect that may bother you more than it bothers them (you will later date a guy in college who finds that rather nice, actually). That cute boy with the girlfriend? Honey, forget him. There are several very nice boys looking your way if you would just bother to look theirs. And if not, relax. Love is coming. Sweet wonderful love and friendship. True, your heart will break, and there will be some (OK, a lot of) pain involved, but it's worth it. And ultimately? You marry a wonderful man. He's quite a bit like your father, actually, although maybe I shouldn't tell you that. And while we're on the subject, you may not want to make any statements that begin with "I would never marry a ..." because I tell you now, God will look down on you and say "Ha!" But it's a good thing, really.
Relax. When you don't make the JV cheerleading squad, you will be very sad. But better things are coming. (Hint: find your way down to the drama room)
Those journals you keep? Keep it up. They are good for you to get your feelings out. But may I suggest that you write about the good things, too, and about the other things you are passionate about? I mean besides the cute boy with the girlfriend (and has it occurred to you that you always seem to like a boy with a GIRLFRIEND? Perhaps you might want to think about what this might indicate). Write about your faith. Write about your friendships. Write about the causes you fight for, and the work you do to combat racism. Write about your family, so you have a record of your time together. Write about how you feel about the world and your place in. Just keep writing.
Learn to cook. Follow your mother into the kitchen and ask her to show you a few things. This will definitely come in handy later, I promise you.
Be proud of who you are, and what you do. And relax. You can not do it all. But you will do enough.
Oh. And if you haven't already sold all of your Star Wars figurines at a garage sale yet HOLD ON TO THEM!! They will be collectors items, and you can make a fortune selling them over the Internet. "What's the Internet?" It's hard to explain, but just trust me on this one.
Oh. And Calculus. Don't bother. You won't pass the AP test and then you will wonder why you spent all year doing very hard math problems with no college credit to show for it. Take art or something instead; it will be much more useful for you in the long run.
Much love,
Owell - 20 years later
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
I ain't no Shakespeare
The other day the fabulous Sage braved the blogosphere with a couple of poems written while she was in high school. Her post made me think of the little cloth covered book, navy with white flowers, that I knew was tucked away in a box in my attic labeled "memories." So I went to the hallway, pulled the ladder down and crawled up there to retrieve the book.
I have to tell you that rereading these poems is seriously making me blush. They are that bad. Some of them, however, do make me remember EXACTLY what was going on in my life at that point, so they are an interesting history in that way. And some I look at the date and wonder "WTF?" Like this one, which was written the August before I started 9th grade. I had just started cheerleading, and had met the girl who would become my best friend all through high school. Here it is:
Blackness.
Deep, unending
pitch BLACK.
Fallying
into mysterious
NOTHING.
I'm searching
searching for light
but there is NOTHING.
Searching for something
to grab.
There is
NOTHING.
I continue to fall.
Helpless.
I feel so helpless.
Shivering cold.
Numbness takes over.
Now I feel
NOTHING.
I scream
but I hear
NOTHING.
Cheery, eh? And so surprising. I bet you never saw that last line coming. sigh. And no, to answer your question, I have never been suicidal. Although if my mother had seen this I'm sure she would have thought I was. Perhaps I've just always been a bit prone to the dramatic. Perhaps.
So a year later I write this little ditty:
Looking from the outside
what do you see?
A laughing, smiling, happy me.
Only rarely do I break down
and then you see
the lonely, tortured, REAL me.
Nobody realizes the pain that I feel,
or how much they've hurt me
beneath the smile that's not real.
The careless laugh I use to hide
the woulds that don't heal
hidden so deep inside.
I want to reach out
but where do I turn?
Each time I try so hard - yet I fail.
When will I ever learn?
I want you to notice.
I want you to see.
But I'm just forgotten.
What about me?
Echoes of Reality
Swirling snow
dances reality into a dream
under the sky which holds
a single glittering star.
Laughter echoes through glass trees
remnants of musical notes
voices singing to the heartbeat
of two magnetic souls.
Smile upon faces
that will never break;
captive eyes
that will never close.
A consuming flame
burns unceasingly,
defying the grasp of
frosty February fingers.
A spirit fills with eternal echoes
of a harmony
which will never again
sound the same.
This poem was written about a fellow I met at a weekend sledding retreat with my youth group. He was one of the staff at the camp (an older man!) 2 years later I actually went on a date with him, and let's just say it was not the fairy tale I thought it would be. However, we're still friendly. In fact, I was at his wedding.
I have to tell you that rereading these poems is seriously making me blush. They are that bad. Some of them, however, do make me remember EXACTLY what was going on in my life at that point, so they are an interesting history in that way. And some I look at the date and wonder "WTF?" Like this one, which was written the August before I started 9th grade. I had just started cheerleading, and had met the girl who would become my best friend all through high school. Here it is:
Blackness.
Deep, unending
pitch BLACK.
Fallying
into mysterious
NOTHING.
I'm searching
searching for light
but there is NOTHING.
Searching for something
to grab.
There is
NOTHING.
I continue to fall.
Helpless.
I feel so helpless.
Shivering cold.
Numbness takes over.
Now I feel
NOTHING.
I scream
but I hear
NOTHING.
Cheery, eh? And so surprising. I bet you never saw that last line coming. sigh. And no, to answer your question, I have never been suicidal. Although if my mother had seen this I'm sure she would have thought I was. Perhaps I've just always been a bit prone to the dramatic. Perhaps.
So a year later I write this little ditty:
Looking from the outsidewhat do you see?
A laughing, smiling, happy me.
Only rarely do I break down
and then you see
the lonely, tortured, REAL me.
Nobody realizes the pain that I feel,
or how much they've hurt me
beneath the smile that's not real.
The careless laugh I use to hide
the woulds that don't heal
hidden so deep inside.
I want to reach out
but where do I turn?
Each time I try so hard - yet I fail.
When will I ever learn?
I want you to notice.
I want you to see.
But I'm just forgotten.
What about me?
Are you singing the Moving Pictures song yet? I had the piano sheet music. It was my theme song. And I make fun of these poems (as I should, really) but they do make me remember how alone I felt through much of high school, whether I should have or not, that's how I felt. It's why I've always related to the great theatrical characters that pine for love: Eponine, Sonya, Varya, even Helena.
OK, enough poor, poor me poetry (although really, that's the bulk of what is in this little notebook). I will end with this one, written the winter of my junior year.
OK, enough poor, poor me poetry (although really, that's the bulk of what is in this little notebook). I will end with this one, written the winter of my junior year.
Echoes of Reality
Swirling snow
dances reality into a dream
under the sky which holds
a single glittering star.
Laughter echoes through glass trees
remnants of musical notes
voices singing to the heartbeat
of two magnetic souls.
Smile upon faces
that will never break;
captive eyes
that will never close.
A consuming flame
burns unceasingly,
defying the grasp of
frosty February fingers.
A spirit fills with eternal echoes
of a harmony
which will never again
sound the same.
This poem was written about a fellow I met at a weekend sledding retreat with my youth group. He was one of the staff at the camp (an older man!) 2 years later I actually went on a date with him, and let's just say it was not the fairy tale I thought it would be. However, we're still friendly. In fact, I was at his wedding.
So there you have it. I have laid my teenage soul bare. Ack. (as you can see, I have progressed mightily in my ability to express myself. "ack," indeed)
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Activist Philanthropy
I admit that when I think about Philanthropy I usually think about giving money or things. Next I think about giving time. But I did a google search for the definition of philanthropy and found many definitions similar to this: "Active effort to promote human welfare."
And today Darfur has been on my mind. I was cleaning up after dinner and my husband was watching CNN. There was a commercial on about stopping the violence in Darfur. People, white actors and actresses looking very American and upper middle class, stood reading from clipboards what I can only assume are quotes from people living the atrocities in Darfur. Things like "They beat me all over," "I thought I would die," "My daughter was pregnant, and they cut open her belly." (these are not strict quotes from the ad, but my memories of them) Then the news program came back on, and it was about the dangers of the possibility of terrorists hacking into power plants and blowing up their generators, which could leave parts of our country without power. And I was struck, once again, at how there can be so much horror going on in the world, and yet we are focusing on something that might possibly someday happen. And that this was bigger "news".
I watch The View only occasionally - if I'm exercising at that time of day - but one of the things I appreciated about Rosie O'Donnell on that show was her constantly reminding the audience of the death toll in Iraq, her insistence that those numbers not get lost in the focus on celebrity in our media. And I appreciate that people are fighting to keep Darfur in the public eye.
So I began to wonder what I could do about Darfur. This seemed perfect, seeing that Jen M holds Philanthropy Thursdays, and they are a great reminder to us to DO something. But I am broke, broke, and more broke this week - having to close out a bank account to pay the mortgage. But I got online and visited savedarfur.org to see what else I could do. There are no events near me. But I did send an e-mail to President Bush and UN Secretary-General Ban urging them to do more to stop the genocide in Darfur. And it's a small thing, sure, but it is indeed making an "active effort to promote human welfare." And now I am telling you, because perhaps you will feel compelled to do the same (or something similar in your own country).
And thanks for all the great response to last week's post about clicking to give over at The Hunger Site. I know that having the button on my own blog reminds me to go over there, and I've been there daily this past week.
And today Darfur has been on my mind. I was cleaning up after dinner and my husband was watching CNN. There was a commercial on about stopping the violence in Darfur. People, white actors and actresses looking very American and upper middle class, stood reading from clipboards what I can only assume are quotes from people living the atrocities in Darfur. Things like "They beat me all over," "I thought I would die," "My daughter was pregnant, and they cut open her belly." (these are not strict quotes from the ad, but my memories of them) Then the news program came back on, and it was about the dangers of the possibility of terrorists hacking into power plants and blowing up their generators, which could leave parts of our country without power. And I was struck, once again, at how there can be so much horror going on in the world, and yet we are focusing on something that might possibly someday happen. And that this was bigger "news".
I watch The View only occasionally - if I'm exercising at that time of day - but one of the things I appreciated about Rosie O'Donnell on that show was her constantly reminding the audience of the death toll in Iraq, her insistence that those numbers not get lost in the focus on celebrity in our media. And I appreciate that people are fighting to keep Darfur in the public eye.
So I began to wonder what I could do about Darfur. This seemed perfect, seeing that Jen M holds Philanthropy Thursdays, and they are a great reminder to us to DO something. But I am broke, broke, and more broke this week - having to close out a bank account to pay the mortgage. But I got online and visited savedarfur.org to see what else I could do. There are no events near me. But I did send an e-mail to President Bush and UN Secretary-General Ban urging them to do more to stop the genocide in Darfur. And it's a small thing, sure, but it is indeed making an "active effort to promote human welfare." And now I am telling you, because perhaps you will feel compelled to do the same (or something similar in your own country).
And thanks for all the great response to last week's post about clicking to give over at The Hunger Site. I know that having the button on my own blog reminds me to go over there, and I've been there daily this past week.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
on magical beings
Hold on to your hat.
Our not quite 5 year old daughter knows there is no Santa Claus. Why? Because we told her.
Let me start at the beginning. When The May Queen was born, we wondered how to deal with the whole Santa Claus/Easter Bunny thing. We wanted the focus of these holidays to be the Christian celebration, not the imaginary characters that go with them. Also, we were really uncomfortable with the idea of telling our child that something was true, when we knew full well that it wasn't. In any other area of our lives we would call that lying. Nearly everybody I know has a story behind how they found out the truth about Santa Claus. It is often traumatic. Why would we do this to our child?
So we asked my parents how they handled it. I don't have a traumatic story, because I always knew that Santa Claus wasn't real. But I couldn't remember how I knew this. My mother explained that she had told my brother and I that Santa Claus wasn't real from the very beginning. She talked with us about how Santa is a character, like in a book, and we could enjoy his stories and talk about him and have fun with the idea of Santa without him being real. So this is the approach we have taken with The May Queen. And so far so good. MQ is still young enough that the line between fantasy and real is pretty blurry anyways. She knows that Santa is a character. She also knows that Cinderella is a character, and Dora and Curious George and... This does not keep her from talking about them, and being both excited and nervous when she sees a costumed character. She gets it, and yet she doesn't. And that's OK. That's a blurry line I'm comfortable. Believing is fun. I'm an actress, so I am all about the suspension of disbelief. But it's just that: the SUSPENSION of disbelief. I can enjoy the fun that comes with Santa without ever having to wrestle with the logistics of how he gets down chimneys, and why some kids get Wiis and other kids get hand me down clothes, while still others get nothing at all. We talk about how Santa represents generosity, and when she gets older we'll talk more about St. Nicholas and the various traditions that have led to our version of Santa.
At Easter, the whole Easter Bunny thing is fairly easy to avoid, frankly. But again, we have fun with it, even while she knows full well who hides her basket. It does not diminish her excitement about it a single bit.
When we first started down this road I worried that MQ would be the spoiler for other kids, and I still worry about that a bit. My husband is quite firm on the idea that that's not our problem. But I'm still careful about it. And very proud of how The May Queen handles herself in such situations. When someone asks her what Santa brought her for Christmas, she simply says "I don't get presents from Santa, but my parents got me...." and dives into her list of favorite gifts. So far her friends haven't asked for an explanation. And if they do... well, hopefully she'll handle that gracefully as well.
It's a hard road to take in a world that is so focused on these imaginary characters. That insists that the magic of Christmas is in a child's belief in something that is not real. Even at our church the first words out of nearly every adults mouth are "What did Santa bring you for Christmas?"
Our holidays are still magical. We lie under the Christmas tree and look up at the twinkling lights, and talk about how the lights represent Jesus, the light of the world. We play with our nativity scenes. Last year the May Queen regularly took the baby Jesus and gave him rides around the house on the back of a sheep. Instead of buying presents for The May Queen's grandparents we adopt a family in need, or give to a charity, and write a letter to them telling them what we've done in their name. We open the doors in our advent book and tell the story of Christmas. And yes, we have Santa Claus books and figures around our house. Because Santa isn't a bad thing. But he's a poor replacement for what the real magic of Christmas is, and the gifts that come with it.
(and yes, I am well aware that the Christians co-opted pagan holidays that celebrated the returning of the light, taking these festivals and adding their own Christian bent to them. I know. But I choose to celebrate this aspect of it)
Our not quite 5 year old daughter knows there is no Santa Claus. Why? Because we told her.
Let me start at the beginning. When The May Queen was born, we wondered how to deal with the whole Santa Claus/Easter Bunny thing. We wanted the focus of these holidays to be the Christian celebration, not the imaginary characters that go with them. Also, we were really uncomfortable with the idea of telling our child that something was true, when we knew full well that it wasn't. In any other area of our lives we would call that lying. Nearly everybody I know has a story behind how they found out the truth about Santa Claus. It is often traumatic. Why would we do this to our child?
So we asked my parents how they handled it. I don't have a traumatic story, because I always knew that Santa Claus wasn't real. But I couldn't remember how I knew this. My mother explained that she had told my brother and I that Santa Claus wasn't real from the very beginning. She talked with us about how Santa is a character, like in a book, and we could enjoy his stories and talk about him and have fun with the idea of Santa without him being real. So this is the approach we have taken with The May Queen. And so far so good. MQ is still young enough that the line between fantasy and real is pretty blurry anyways. She knows that Santa is a character. She also knows that Cinderella is a character, and Dora and Curious George and... This does not keep her from talking about them, and being both excited and nervous when she sees a costumed character. She gets it, and yet she doesn't. And that's OK. That's a blurry line I'm comfortable. Believing is fun. I'm an actress, so I am all about the suspension of disbelief. But it's just that: the SUSPENSION of disbelief. I can enjoy the fun that comes with Santa without ever having to wrestle with the logistics of how he gets down chimneys, and why some kids get Wiis and other kids get hand me down clothes, while still others get nothing at all. We talk about how Santa represents generosity, and when she gets older we'll talk more about St. Nicholas and the various traditions that have led to our version of Santa.
At Easter, the whole Easter Bunny thing is fairly easy to avoid, frankly. But again, we have fun with it, even while she knows full well who hides her basket. It does not diminish her excitement about it a single bit.
When we first started down this road I worried that MQ would be the spoiler for other kids, and I still worry about that a bit. My husband is quite firm on the idea that that's not our problem. But I'm still careful about it. And very proud of how The May Queen handles herself in such situations. When someone asks her what Santa brought her for Christmas, she simply says "I don't get presents from Santa, but my parents got me...." and dives into her list of favorite gifts. So far her friends haven't asked for an explanation. And if they do... well, hopefully she'll handle that gracefully as well.
It's a hard road to take in a world that is so focused on these imaginary characters. That insists that the magic of Christmas is in a child's belief in something that is not real. Even at our church the first words out of nearly every adults mouth are "What did Santa bring you for Christmas?"
Our holidays are still magical. We lie under the Christmas tree and look up at the twinkling lights, and talk about how the lights represent Jesus, the light of the world. We play with our nativity scenes. Last year the May Queen regularly took the baby Jesus and gave him rides around the house on the back of a sheep. Instead of buying presents for The May Queen's grandparents we adopt a family in need, or give to a charity, and write a letter to them telling them what we've done in their name. We open the doors in our advent book and tell the story of Christmas. And yes, we have Santa Claus books and figures around our house. Because Santa isn't a bad thing. But he's a poor replacement for what the real magic of Christmas is, and the gifts that come with it.
(and yes, I am well aware that the Christians co-opted pagan holidays that celebrated the returning of the light, taking these festivals and adding their own Christian bent to them. I know. But I choose to celebrate this aspect of it)
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Crayon Rejection - Monday Mission
To RoseArt Crayons,
Who exactly do you think you are? And what is this waxy product you are trying to pass off as a crayon? The color is weak. It easily breaks. I'm trying to teach my daughter how to read the colors, and you call purple "violet". This is confusing to her young mind.
Crayons have been around for a long time. Do you not have scientists that can melt down the Crayola, figure out how they make it, and make your crayons as good? Apparently not. Or you are just lazy.
You may fool new parents. And well meaning people buying crayons for the children of their friends and trying to save a few pennies. But you can't fool me. I scoff at your "crayons." I walk right by them in the store. And I grab me a box of the good stuff. The Crayolas. I'm a big spender, shelling out those extra pennies for the real deal. Because only the best will do for my coloring book.
I mean my daughter's coloring book. (Have you seen her artwork? It's on blogs all over the world now - thanks to a certain nice little button)
RoseArt, you have been rejected.
Sincerely,
Painted Maypole
This post is the last in the September Monday Missions. Today's mission is to write a post in the from of a rejection letter. To participate, just add a link to your post in the widget below. In October the Missions will be hosted by The Flying Mum. This is next week's mission: "Congratulations! You are a top executive at a breakout new cable TV company. TV Guide wants to publish a sampling of your new fall lineup. For this post, please provide them with a description of some of the new shows."
I hope to keep up with them, as they've been a lot of fun for me (although I must confess, there have been some weeks I wouldn't have done it if I weren't hosting it! Hosting it makes me do it even when I feel uninspired, and I think that was good for me. So I may try to think of it as a homework commitment. I was always pretty good about turning in homework on time, but then I've been out of school for 11 years, so maybe not so much anymore? We'll see!)
Who exactly do you think you are? And what is this waxy product you are trying to pass off as a crayon? The color is weak. It easily breaks. I'm trying to teach my daughter how to read the colors, and you call purple "violet". This is confusing to her young mind.
Crayons have been around for a long time. Do you not have scientists that can melt down the Crayola, figure out how they make it, and make your crayons as good? Apparently not. Or you are just lazy.
You may fool new parents. And well meaning people buying crayons for the children of their friends and trying to save a few pennies. But you can't fool me. I scoff at your "crayons." I walk right by them in the store. And I grab me a box of the good stuff. The Crayolas. I'm a big spender, shelling out those extra pennies for the real deal. Because only the best will do for my coloring book.
I mean my daughter's coloring book. (Have you seen her artwork? It's on blogs all over the world now - thanks to a certain nice little button)
RoseArt, you have been rejected.
Sincerely,
Painted Maypole
This post is the last in the September Monday Missions. Today's mission is to write a post in the from of a rejection letter. To participate, just add a link to your post in the widget below. In October the Missions will be hosted by The Flying Mum. This is next week's mission: "Congratulations! You are a top executive at a breakout new cable TV company. TV Guide wants to publish a sampling of your new fall lineup. For this post, please provide them with a description of some of the new shows."
I hope to keep up with them, as they've been a lot of fun for me (although I must confess, there have been some weeks I wouldn't have done it if I weren't hosting it! Hosting it makes me do it even when I feel uninspired, and I think that was good for me. So I may try to think of it as a homework commitment. I was always pretty good about turning in homework on time, but then I've been out of school for 11 years, so maybe not so much anymore? We'll see!)
Friday, September 21, 2007
Interview - now with photo!
A few weeks ago the wonderful Chani over at Thailand Gal was interviewed for the "Getting to Know You" Meme, and offered to interview anyone who asked. I took a deep breath and asked to be interviewed. I was a bit nervous because I knew that Chani would ask some deep, searching questions. And indeed, she did. Here are my attempts to answer them.
1) You are Kathleen Blanco and it is the day after the storm. What is the first thing you do in your role as governor?
My initial reaction to this was "weep uncontrollably in the corner," but as I figured that was inadequate, I've been trying to come up with an answer. However, this question is proving the most difficult, for several reasons. First of all, it feels a lot like Monday Morning Quarterbacking... we know so much more now than we did that day after the storm. Also, I am becoming acutely aware of how little I know about what a governor actually does. (I should just cheat and ask my husband, I bet he has an opinion on this!) I've done a wee bit of research on this today, besides the crazy CNN addiction I had in the weeks following Katrina, and yet I still feel at quite a loss. But this I will say: I would declare a state of emergency. I would use every resource I have to GET PEOPLE OUT OF NEW ORLEANS. (I know there were snipers and looters - I have friends with stories that would creep you out - but why is it that news crews were filming the people outside of the convention center and not loading them into their choppers? Why wasn't every chopper in America outside the convention center loading people?) I would have allowed Red Cross into the city (Blanco didn't). And, I hope with all my heart, I would have MADE decisions. I cannot begin to guess all the decisions Blanco had to make in those first few days after Katrina hit, but I do know that she took too long to make decisions. Precious time and resources were wasted. I will also say, even though this was a few months or so later, that I would not have gone through with the plans to renovate my offices with taxpayers money while the rest of state struggled to survive. Sigh. This question is stressing me out. Next.
2) What should be the number one rule of parenting?
LOVE YOUR CHILD(REN) UNCONDITIONALLY.
3) When the May Queen grows up, what do you hope will be the primary lesson she carries through life?
This is really hard to narrow down, but I think it all comes down to LOVE. I hope that for her whole life she carries with her the knowledge that she is deeply loved by us and by God, and that she should live her life as a response to that love. I hope that being deeply loved allows her to live a life where she readily gives love, showers grace upon herself and the world around her, and feels called to help others.
4) As a liberal Christian, how do you interpret these words of Jesus: "How hard it will be for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God! . . . it is easier for a camel (rope) to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. (Mk 10:23b, 25)
Well, I think the answer lies within the greater context of this verse. If you just look at this verse, I think that Jesus was saying that those who are rich have a hard time depending on God, and rather look to their wealth. However, the point of the story is much bigger. This story begins with a rich man (he is called such in Luke's telling of this story) asking Jesus "What can I do to have eternal life?" Ultimately, he is asking the wrong question. It is not what he (the man) can do, but rather, what JESUS can do (Jesus looked at them and said, "there are some things that people cannot do, but God can do anything." Mark 10:27). People use the verse you quoted all the time to condemn the rich. And certainly there are lots of times in the bible where Jesus urges us not to store up treasures on earth, but rather in heaven. However, this verse is not just about the wealthy. The point being made is for EVERYONE. We can not follow a certain set of rules or guidelines and earn eternal life for ourselves. The only way we can receive eternal life is through God's GRACE, made manifest through His son, Jesus.
5) What resonated with you most about the character Helena in Midsummer Night's Dream? How are you most like her?
My most immediate draw to Helena was her height. I am 5'10", and have always towered above most of my friends. I have felt awkward and been very aware of this difference. Also, particularly when I was younger, I have felt like the loser in the game of love, and so Helena's desperation, her unrequited adoration of Demetrius, and her foolhardy chasing of him into the woods rang true to me. And she's just fun to play!
1) You are Kathleen Blanco and it is the day after the storm. What is the first thing you do in your role as governor?
My initial reaction to this was "weep uncontrollably in the corner," but as I figured that was inadequate, I've been trying to come up with an answer. However, this question is proving the most difficult, for several reasons. First of all, it feels a lot like Monday Morning Quarterbacking... we know so much more now than we did that day after the storm. Also, I am becoming acutely aware of how little I know about what a governor actually does. (I should just cheat and ask my husband, I bet he has an opinion on this!) I've done a wee bit of research on this today, besides the crazy CNN addiction I had in the weeks following Katrina, and yet I still feel at quite a loss. But this I will say: I would declare a state of emergency. I would use every resource I have to GET PEOPLE OUT OF NEW ORLEANS. (I know there were snipers and looters - I have friends with stories that would creep you out - but why is it that news crews were filming the people outside of the convention center and not loading them into their choppers? Why wasn't every chopper in America outside the convention center loading people?) I would have allowed Red Cross into the city (Blanco didn't). And, I hope with all my heart, I would have MADE decisions. I cannot begin to guess all the decisions Blanco had to make in those first few days after Katrina hit, but I do know that she took too long to make decisions. Precious time and resources were wasted. I will also say, even though this was a few months or so later, that I would not have gone through with the plans to renovate my offices with taxpayers money while the rest of state struggled to survive. Sigh. This question is stressing me out. Next.
2) What should be the number one rule of parenting?
LOVE YOUR CHILD(REN) UNCONDITIONALLY.
3) When the May Queen grows up, what do you hope will be the primary lesson she carries through life?
This is really hard to narrow down, but I think it all comes down to LOVE. I hope that for her whole life she carries with her the knowledge that she is deeply loved by us and by God, and that she should live her life as a response to that love. I hope that being deeply loved allows her to live a life where she readily gives love, showers grace upon herself and the world around her, and feels called to help others.
4) As a liberal Christian, how do you interpret these words of Jesus: "How hard it will be for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God! . . . it is easier for a camel (rope) to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. (Mk 10:23b, 25)
Well, I think the answer lies within the greater context of this verse. If you just look at this verse, I think that Jesus was saying that those who are rich have a hard time depending on God, and rather look to their wealth. However, the point of the story is much bigger. This story begins with a rich man (he is called such in Luke's telling of this story) asking Jesus "What can I do to have eternal life?" Ultimately, he is asking the wrong question. It is not what he (the man) can do, but rather, what JESUS can do (Jesus looked at them and said, "there are some things that people cannot do, but God can do anything." Mark 10:27). People use the verse you quoted all the time to condemn the rich. And certainly there are lots of times in the bible where Jesus urges us not to store up treasures on earth, but rather in heaven. However, this verse is not just about the wealthy. The point being made is for EVERYONE. We can not follow a certain set of rules or guidelines and earn eternal life for ourselves. The only way we can receive eternal life is through God's GRACE, made manifest through His son, Jesus.
5) What resonated with you most about the character Helena in Midsummer Night's Dream? How are you most like her?
My most immediate draw to Helena was her height. I am 5'10", and have always towered above most of my friends. I have felt awkward and been very aware of this difference. Also, particularly when I was younger, I have felt like the loser in the game of love, and so Helena's desperation, her unrequited adoration of Demetrius, and her foolhardy chasing of him into the woods rang true to me. And she's just fun to play!
yes, that's me as the lovesick Helena, summer 2000
photo taken by my husband
6) What is the next Monday Mission Topic?
Okay, Chani didn't really ask this question. But I wanted to give you a heads up. If you want to participate in the Monday Missions, write a post in the form of a rejection letter. Come back here on Monday and add the link to your post in the fun widget at the end of mine. It's that easy! :) I've had a lot of fun with these Monday Missions, they really challenge me to write in a different style. I encourage you to give it a shot.
So... that's the interview! ;) If you would like me to interview you, leave me a comment (and your e-mail, or just send me an e-mail at pntdmaypole AT yahoo DOT com) and let me know. I'll send you 5 questions. If you dare. ;)
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