Heavy Stones

This is a sculpture by Auguste Rodin called Fallen Caryatid Carrying a Stone. I saw it for the first time at the Musee Rodin in Paris when I was twenty-one. It is one of my favorite pieces of art. I really don't know much about visual art, having studied mostly literature in college. I've always liked paintings and sculptures, but before I visited this museum I had never seen a piece of visual art that moved me as much as a poem, for instance. I was just blown away by Rodin's sculptures, however--how much emotion and meaning they conveyed in physical form.

This particular sculpture is an enlargement the sculptor made of a small element from his monumental work The Gates of Hell. It is a play on certain architectural conventions. In Greek and Egyptian architecture, caryatids were female figures that served as columns in buildings, supporting a roof for instance. In this case, however, the caryatid has fallen under the weight of the stone she was supposed to hold up. It was too heavy for her. But even though she has crumpled to a sitting position, she hasn't dropped the stone. She's resting her own head on her shoulders, but she's still supporting her burden. You can see the muscle tension in her arms. The expression on her face is very thoughtful and dignified. She is sad about her fall, but she is not ashamed. She is going to carry on the best she can.

To me, the sculpture is about how, despite all sayings to the contrary, life's burdens really are too heavy to bear sometimes (often, probably), but people manage somehow and go on. It expresses the incredible courage and dignity that simple survival, day to day life, seems to require of us. I find it a very comforting image, especially in the face of regret or remorse about past failures.

4/2/08 Blog Topic for P1 Reading and Writing
We're going to visit the art museum on Wednesday (finally!), so I thought I'd get us started thinking and writing about art. For your post, write about a favorite work of art that means something to you. It can be a piece of visual art (a painting, sculpture, drawing etc.), but it doesn't have to be. You could also write about a favorite song or piece of music, or a book or poem or even a movie. Describe it to us and tell us what it means to you.

Musical Night Out!

I had a bit of an adventure this weekend--unusual for a mom of a three-year-old and very revitalizing! I went on a roadtrip with my friend, Bree Clime-White, who I mentioned in my last post, to the nearby town of Dubuque, Iowa. Bree was playing at Isabella's, a popular music venue there. The area around Dubuque is one of the least-flat, most beautiful areas of Iowa, with tall rocky bluffs overhanging the Mississippi River, where bald eagles fish in the unfrozen spots. The drive up was lovely, though Bree and I were chatting so continuously we probably missed a lot.

Isabella's is located in the basement one of the many ramshackle, turn-of-the-century mansions that fill the streets of Dubuque. It was a softly-lit cellar-like space, with big comfortable chairs, local artists' paintings on the walls, and, oddly, a big dictionary on a stand by the door. A very cosy place to sit back with friends and listen to music. Bree plays acoustic guitar and sings her own songs, mostly in a contemporary folk music style. It's hard for me to write an objective review since I've known her for so long. She really is good though! She's always had a beautiful voice--pure and clear--since we were children, but she only learned to play guitar about five years ago. She is very adept, however. And, while her voice is still lovely, it's stronger now. She alternates easily between soft and sweet, and an angry power. There is a real emotional intimacy to her song lyrics, as well as her stage presence and her style of singing. She opened with "Anymore," a song about a failed relationship which somehow manages to be both bitter and sadly tender at the same time. Another favorite of mine which she sang during the evening, "1000 Brown," tells the story of an Iowa City icon, the Black Angel monument at the Oakland Cemetary. She makes this local historical legend into a universal anthem of loss and undying love.

Bree was only the warm-up act for this show; after she sang for about an hour, the main act, The Awful Purdys, came on. They are a five-member band who also come from Iowa City: all women and an amazing array of instruments including a guitar, fiddle, cello, classical harp, xylophone, tin whistle, and probably a few others I have forgotten. Needless to say, their sound check took a very long time! And their music was just as eclectic as their instruments: it ranged from foot-stomping bluegrass, to soulful ballads, to a great cover of the Violent Femmes alternative rock classic "Blister in the Sun." They had the audience with them right away; there was lots of clapping and singing along. It was a very energizing, engaging show on many levels. At several points, I had to stop myself from getting up and dancing. At other times, particularly during the achingly lovely songs "All the Homesick Birds," and "Love" (not sure I have these titles right) written by band member Katie Roche, I found myself near tears.

It was a wonderful evening all and all, and lots of fun for this non-muscian to be "with the band." I won't say how late I was out, but it was much later than I have been in the past few years!

3/11/08 Blog Topic for P1 Reading and Writing:
Write a review of the event you attended in the past week. Describe the movie/show/concert/play/etc., tell us about your experience, whether you liked it or not and why.

Portrait of the Teacher as a 10-year-old Girl

Here's my sister and I on a family trip to New Mexico when I was ten years old and she was seven. I was a kind of strange little girl at that age, I suppose. I was sensitive and could be a bit intense. I loved to spend time outside, "exploring," as I called it. My parents' house now is in the middle of suburban sprawl, but back then it was on the edge of town, with cornfields and woods and a creek and a lake nearby. I used to spend a lot of time wandering about, splashing in the creek, catching frogs, and making up elaborate stories in my head. In the summer, I would come home completely covered in mud and my mother would hose me off in the driveway before she'd let me go into the house. I never got in trouble for getting dirty, though.

It seems remarkable how much freedom we had. I think nowadays parents are afraid to let their children roam as freely as they used to. Instead, they fill their schedules with organized activities: violin on Tuesday, soccer on Wednesday, gymnastics on Thursday, etc. Not that I think there's anything wrong with being busy and having interests as a kid. But there was something very valuable in having all that unrestricted time and space to fill with your own imagination.

I already liked to write at that age--mostly fantasy stories with unicorns and dragons and brave princesses and that kind of thing. I wrote a very long story about a mermaid and her dolphin friends that I worked on every day for about half a year. My dad read me The Lord of the Rings trilogy around that age, and I was heavily influenced by it.

As you might expect, I was teased a bit at school;) With the neighborhood kids, I was confident and possibly even bossy, but at school I was shy and "nerdy." I was smart and did well in my classes in general, although I was disorganized and messy and often got in trouble for losing assignments and that kind of thing. I did have a few close friends. My best friend, Bree, was also a kind of odd girl with a very well-developed imagination. We would ignore everyone else and concoct our own school-yard fairy tales. These days Bree has a daughter of her own and is a popular singer-songwriter in the local music scene. We are still very close; she is almost more of a family member than a friend.

I took things very much to heart at that age, and remember being completely overwrought by small cruelties and injustices. Nonetheless, when I look back on that time, I think that I was mostly happy. It seemed as though the world was big and wonderful, and just waiting for me to discover it, confident in the knowledge that my family was looking out for me should anything go awry.

3/4/08 Blog Topic for P1 Reading and Writing:
Write a portrait of yourself at age ten. Describe what you were like, what you did with your time, what you enjoyed, what you didn't, what school was like for you, etc.

Excuses, Excuses

Well folks, I'm still feeling pretty sick. I think in the interests of resting up, and being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (English idiom!) for Monday, we'll skip the blog post for this week. You can catch up, if you are behind on posts, and of course, you're always welcome to write anything you want just for the fun of it, but there won't be an assigned post for points this week. Have fun and see you Monday.

Lungs of a Sparrow, Heart of a Lion

In 2001 I visited the Grand Canyon in Arizona with my friend Steve from Ireland. The Grand Canyon is one of those places you've heard so much about and seen so many pictures of beforehand, you can't help but wonder if it can possibly live up to expectations. The amazing thing is, it does. It's just so incredible.

We wanted to go as far down into the canyon as we could. I had heard of people riding mules down and was interested in trying that. It turns out, however, that it costs $500 (per person) to ride a mule to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Steve said at that price we might as well buy our own mules. So we decided to walk. It was February, so there was still a bit of snow at the top, but as we hiked down the temperature rose enough to take off our coats. The canyon is two miles deep. We hiked about halfway down, where there is large plateau, and stopped for our picnic lunch.

We saw deer which let us get so close we could have touched them. We also saw a coyote at very close range. He stood completely still and stared at us for over a minute. It was thrilling, and also just slightly frightening. We figured that perhaps since the canyon has been protected for so long, the animals there have never experienced hunters, so they don't have a fear of humans as predators.

At this level, unlike at the top, you can look down and see the Colorado River, the force of which has carved out the canyon over so many millenia.

We were having such a good time on the plateau, we didn't really consider the time. By the time we started the climb back up, it was already mid-afternoon. Let me just say, climbing up was very hard! The path was quite steep and rough. Going down had been pleasantly challenging, but getting up was murder. We began to worry we wouldn't make it up before dark. This was actually quite a frightening thought, because the path was pretty narrow and still had snow and ice on it at the upper levels. If you slipped, well, there was only one place to go really...So naturally, we tried to push ourselves up as hard as we could.

I say "we," but really I was the one having the most trouble. Steve was doing alright, but I could hardly catch my breath (as you can see)! I have mild asthma, nothing that bothers me much normally, but my poor little lungs weren't up to this. I kept having to stop and breathe, then make myself get up and try again. I really wasn't sure at times I would make it. I thought I might pass out or something. But I just made myself keep moving. Steve was very encouraging.

In the end, we made it to the top just as the sun was disappearing over the opposite edge of the canyon. A triumph of will-power for sure! "You have the lungs of a sparrow, but the heart of lion," said Steve.

1/19/08 Blog Topic for P1 Reading and Writing:
Tell us about a memorable trip you have taken, or a time when you managed to do something difficult which you didn't think you'd be able to do.
Note: Let's just make Tuesday the regular due date for your blog posts, since I don't seem to be able to get mine up before Saturday!

"Get That Inta Ya!" (As They Say in Ireland)

Okay, by popular request, a food blog for this week. It sounds like we have quite a few cooks in our class, so this should be good. Some of you were asking about Irish food the other day. Ireland isn't exactly known for its cuisine, unlike some of your countries. Meals there tend to be pretty straight-forward "meat-potato-veg" affairs. In fact, a friend of mine who grew up in a working-class neighborhood in Dublin told me once that he had never had a dinner that didn't include potatos until he tried spaghetti at age twenty-one.

I worked in supported-living housing for homeless men for a few years when I was over there. Most of the men I worked with were in their 50s and 60s and had come from very traditional, farming-type backgrounds. Part of my job was cooking dinner for them. They were naturally suspicious of any experimentation. "You're learning the fine art of Irish boiling" my friend said. Any spice more exotic than salt or pepper was suspect. The same with any vegetable aside from carrots, cabbage, parsnips, peas, beans, or turnips--in other words, any vegetable that didn't traditionally grow in Ireland. Once I tried to serve broccoli for a change and one of the men said, "I'm not eating those wee little trees!"

So anyway, the Irish recipe I'm going to share with you is typically simple and potato-based, but actually very delicious. It's one thing I picked up over there that I still cook all time, and it always makes me feel a bit homesick for Ireland. Lochlan likes it too. It's very good, filling comfort food for winter days like these. I learned to make it as "boxty," but I've also heard it called "colcannon."

Irish Boxty

Ingredients
Potatos (about 2 for each person you are feeding)
Cabbage, chopped (preferably savoy cabbage, a dark-green, leafy variety)
Milk
Butter
One small onion, finely chopped
Salt and Pepper

Clean the potatos and cut in half or thirds. Put them in a large pot and just cover them with water. Bring the water to a boil and cook for 5 min. Then put the chopped cabbage in the pot on top of the potatos, cover with the lid, and cook for another 15 minutes or so. (You can use as much cabbage as you like; I think about 1/3 of the volume of potatos works well). Remove the pot from the heat. The cabbage and potatos should be tender. Scoop the cabbage out and set it aside. Drain the potatos and mash them, adding milk and butter to taste as you go. They should end up smooth and creamy and rich. Then drain the cabbage, squeezing it to remove extra water, and mix it into the mashed potatos. Next add the chopped onions. Again, you decide how much you want depending on the volume of boxty. Then add salt and pepper to taste, and you are ready to eat!

2/12/08 Blog Topic for P1 Reading and Writing
(Notice I'm giving you until Tuesday. I thought it was only fair because I was so late getting this up!)
Share a favorite recipe with the rest of us. Tell us where you learned it and how you feel about it. If you are one of our chefs, then do your stuff. If not, just tell us something simple like how to make a sandwich you like. Or just write about food in general: what you like, what you hate, what you eat at home, what you eat here, etc.

All Things Wild and Wiggly

I know you've all heard of my son Lochlan by now owing to his recent cold, so I thought I'd introduce you properly. I remember when I went away to college for the first time how much I missed being around children on a regular basis. It felt strangely sterile to only interact with adults. So, if any of you are feeling like this, this post is for you. If not, you'll just have to indulge my motherly ramblings.

Lochlan was born on August 9, 2004, which makes him "three and a half." He's very excited about the "half" part: every morning he asks me, "Am I still three and a half?" "Lochlan" is an Irish name meaning "man from the land of the lakes." "Loch" means lake in Gaelic, the original language of Ireland and Scotland. We were living by a big, beautiful lake in western Galway called Loch Corrib when Lochlan was born. Maybe you've heard of the Loch Ness monster? In addition to being a legendary dinosaur-like creature who may or may not inhabit a Scottish lake, this is also one of Lochlan's nicknames.

Here he is dressed up as a bald eagle for Halloween. For anyone unfamiliar with U.S. Halloween celebrations, kids wear costumes and go to door to door saying "trick or treat" and collecting candy. If you aren't a seamstress or an arts-and-crafts type of person (I'm not), you can buy a costume at the store. They tend to be Supermen, Power Rangers, or doggies, however. So when Lochlan announced he wanted to be a bald eagle for Halloween, I was a little worried. Despite being the national bird, the eagle is shockingly underrepresented among ready-made Halloween costumes. I was on my own. Actually, I'm pretty happy with how it came out. I glued white feathers all over a rubbery "bald head" hat. Then I took a pair of white "angel wings," broke them in half, painted them brown, and used elastics to attach them to his arms. He had a beak but he hated to wear it, so I just face-painted his nose yellow. He also had talons on his feet, but you can't see them in the picture. He was very cute about wearing the costume. He'd keep saying, "I'm still a Lochlan...I'm still a Lochlan" as I was putting it on him. When it was all ready, he'd say, "Now I'm an eagle!" Then he'd run around yelling "Fly! Fly!"

It's actually not surprising that Lochlan wanted to be an eagle: he's quite a bird man. It all started when he was about one and a half. We were in the park and a huge flock of crows flew over us. There were hundreds of them and they were very noisy. Lochlan watched and listened for awhile, and then suddenly opened his mouth and started making perfect crow "caws." After that, whenever we saw a crow, he would imitate its call. Then he started doing other birds like cardinals and blue jays. I got him a kid's book of common birds with buttons to push to hear the songs. He learned those and wanted to know more. I could hardly keep up with him. We started going on outings with the Iowa City bird-watching club and got more books. So now he's definitely an expert. He can tell you, for instance, that a barred owl says,"Who cooks for you?" while a great horned owl says "How are you? I'm fine!" His love of nature is not limited to things that fly either. Here he is showing me an earthworm he found!


1/4/08 Blog Topic for P1 Reading and Writing:
Now you introduce us to some of your family members: brothers or sisters, parents, your kids (I know at least one of you is a parent), cousins, whomever you chose. Put up some pictures if you have them. Include a few good stories with specific details that illustrate character.