I am so close to, once again, becoming a bad blogger. Each weekend, I begin to fret because I have not yet found the time to sit and write. I have admitted some repeats, and some of the repeats are known only to me. Classes started last week, and I am working hard to stay ahead of my planning and grading. So far, only two class days in, I am worried about how long I will make it. I had planned to audit a non-fiction writing class, but so far, I have yet to make it. In addition to my courses, I have taken on some exciting freelance work, and though rewarding, the jobs are quite time consuming. So I find myself buried in work, panicked by the thought of getting too far behind, and guilty that my kids spend so long in daycare. So, you see, the blog quickly becomes a "least of my priorities" task. And I am tempted each week to perhaps put off until later in the week - or take a week off just this once. Still, an assignment is an assignment - even one given to the self. So, now that I have given you my confession, I will give you the words of poet Kenneth Koch. This poem was given to me by my boss several years ago, and the opening lines echo in my head when I come to the frantic point of juggling my overwhelming tasks. Yielding to someone else to speak is not quite as bad as skipping a week of writing, but it's pretty close. And I am going to do it anyway. "You want a social life, with friends"
by Kenneth Koch You want a social life, with friends. A passionate love life and as well To work hard every day. What’s true Is of these three you may have two And two can pay you dividends But never may have three.There isn’t time enough, my friends– Though dawn begins, yet midnight ends– To find the time to have love, work, and friends. Michelangelo had feeling For Vittoria and the Ceiling But did he go to parties at day’s end? Homer nightly went to banquets Wrote all day but had no lockets Bright with pictures of his Girl. I know one who loves and parties And has done so since his thirties But writes hardly anything at all.
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from The Help, 2009 by Katherine Stockett "The colored part of town seems so far away when, evidently, it’s only a few miles from the white part of town." *This re-post is brought to you for two reasons. 1) the internet just crashed and erased the new blog that was almost done. 2) the non-profit that I help and love is looking for board members. This post explains why I love Good Neighbors and the work that we do. You can find a link to our web page at the bottom of this post. Tuscaloosa, Alabama is hot. I experienced this first-hand when I ventured to the world of Bear Bryant to visit my great friends, Amanda and Andrew, who were both in graduate programs at the university. So when it came time to select a destination for the Maryville College Alternative Spring Break trip (which I would be leading), I figured we could all use a little more heat - and I knew Tuscaloosa was the perfect spot. Actually, we picked Tuscaloosa because we knew that the city would still be rebuilding from the April 2011 tornadoes, and we figured there would be plenty to do (for work and play). It also just so happened that Amanda and Andrew had their baby girl a week before our trip. (Total coincidence that I got to hang out with them and baby Adeline. *wink*)
The trip was a great success. The students worked hard, had fun, and ate like kings and queens. I got some quality baby time, and I was grateful that most of the organizing work was done by our partners in Tuscaloosa. The Presbyterian Disaster Assistance lead us to First Presbyterian Church, Tuscaloosa, who connected us with Habitat for Humanity. Bam. The trip was planned in full with a few phone calls. On Thursday night, squeezed between our work day and a dinner at Dreamland BBQ, the good people at First Presbyterian Church drove us around the city to show us the path of the tornado and the destruction that was still evident 11 months later. Our tour guide worked as a city planner, so he really was on ground zero right when the tornado hit. The tour was long, the devastation vast, and stories tragic. I asked our three tour guides if the city learned anything from Katrina - if the response to the disaster was different having witnessed that event. One woman spoke up, "Yes," she said, "the Church responded very quickly because of what happened with Katrina. There was food everywhere. You literally couldn't walk down the street without being offered two or three meals." She and the other two church members elaborated that one thing they learned was that communities can care for themselves better than outsiders can. (This was spoken as a criticism of the fumbling government intervention and thus the Democratic party, so I got a bit defensive. Still I understand their point.) Next, our guide spoke this sentence, which made my heart drop: "this tornado couldn't have picked a more perfect path to take out all of the poor and immigrant communities in Tuscaloosa." Now, my thoughts on this conversation were converging into this idea: "If you knew, with clear borders, where the poor and immigrant communities were, where people live and are under housed, under paid, and under fed, WHY DID YOU WAIT UNTIL A TORNADO CAME THROUGH TO DO SOMETHING??" Ok. I realized that my anger was totally displaced; Tuscaloosa was a good town with good people who were working to make things better. They were welcoming groups, like ours, to re-build houses for those without insurance. They were housing and feeding us every day that we were there. My anger rested in the fact that still today, as in the 1960's when The Help was set, the lines in our towns are still very clearly drawn. In the end, I realized that my community (and yours, too) could learning something from Tuscaloosa just as Tuscaloosa learned from New Orleans. We do not have to wait for a disaster to help each other. We do not have to accept that there are lines between the poor and rich, immigrants and locals. We do not have to wait for government assistance. If each community took care of the people in its own community, we wouldn't need FEMA to send agents to help us organize. Just send us a check to cover some of the costs of rebuilding - we've got it covered, thank you! Feed people NOW. House people NOW. Love people NOW. Not later, when the storm has come and gone, when lives are already lost, when hopelessness overwhelms our souls, but RIGHT NOW. *If you live in Blount County and are interested in getting involved with an organization that is doing this very thing - helping take care of our own people - please check out Good Neighbors of Blount County. If you don't live in Blount County, we will still put your money to good use. Or, you can find a local non-profit in your area to join! Why all the (crime) drama?
NBC’s hit show Law and Order, Special Victims Unit has become a staple in many American households – it is about to begin the 17th season. Sergeant Olivia Benson (played by Mariska Hargitay) has become one of America’s darlings, as she manages to treat the victims with tenderness and care, while relentlessly pursuing the perpetrators. Upwards of seven million viewers tune in each week to hear these opening lines: “In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.” These stories, though, hardly seem to belong to the detectives. Yes, we love watching Ice-T and company track down the bad guys. The stories, though, belong to the victims. What strikes me as I watch shows like this (as well as the many, many other crime dramas) take over both prime time TV and syndication, is the reality that underlies the fiction that they portray. We sit, for maybe an hour or maybe several hours if we catch the USA marathon, and are entertained by these stories. But what is entertainment for most of us is reality for many. Statistics show that one in three American women will be sexually abused during their lifetime. One in four women and one in six men will be sexually assaulted before the age of 18.* As someone who has not experienced sexual assault, I cannot begin to imagine what those brave women and men have gone through. I can speculate, though, that this kind of show would be insulting at least – if not downright traumatic to watch. I doubt that crime shows are going anywhere soon, but I do wonder how we as a culture justify giving such high entertainment value to something that is so real and harmful to such a large part of our population. Perhaps the shows teach us to be more vigilant – to protect our children and ourselves. Perhaps they give us an insight into the extreme courage that victims must have in order to criminally pursue their attackers. Perhaps they show us the faults and loopholes that exist in our criminal justice system. Or perhaps we just use them as an escape – a mindless and entertaining hour. Next time you find yourself plopping down on the couch or in your favorite chair, surfing the channels until you hear the iconic “dun dun” of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, remember that for many, these “stories” are real. So maybe during the first commercial break, instead of going to the kitchen for more chips, you can grab your computer and visit RAINN, the Rape, Abuse, & Incest National Network to find out how you can help: http://www.rainn.org/. *From WOAR: Bringing communities together to end sexual violence. <www.woar.org/resources/sexual-assault-statistics.php> from the Program Description of the New Opportunity School for Women Through an intensive curriculum, hard work, community internships and career counseling, participants tap into new knowledge and skills while realizing value of their own wisdom, experiences and abilities. In three weeks, women begin to rediscover personal strengths, courage and life goals that have often been hidden by overwhelmingly difficult circumstances. The NOSW program is a life-changing event.* I stood by the white board in the back of the room, smiling as each of the six women filed into the chilly space, squinting from the overbearing florescent lights above, I had tried to make the sterile space seem cozy, pulling several desks into a semi-circle in the front. Still, some sat in the back near the window - no doubt drawn to the view and sunlight just on the other side of the glass. With minimal encouragement, the back row folks moved forward and joined the others up front. They looked at me with an eagerness that is often lacking in my normal classroom of 18 year old students. "Hello, I am Diana Curtis," I said. "We are going to spend the next few hours doing some creative writing." When you were a child, did your parents ever leave you little notes in your lunch box? I’m not in the habit of leaving daily notes for my kids, but one day last year I grabbed pen and marked “I © U” on my child’s napkin. I had pretty much forgotten about doing it by the time we were out the door on the way to school, so I was surprised that my kindergartner was bringing it up weeks after.
It’s not like this was the first time I had told him that I loved him. I tell him many times every day. But to him, there was something special about the written note – maybe it was because it surprised him. Maybe he liked that he was getting a message from me during a time of the day when he’s not with me. Or his friends might get these notes and he was just glad to be included. Whatever the reason, my seemingly insignificant gesture was very meaningful for my kindergartner. We’ve all heard about the importance of positive thinking – and positive affirmations. When we think happier thoughts, our outlook is more positive. When we have positive mantras that we can recall when we are in a tough spot, we can keep ourselves from going to a dark place. These ideas are expounded all the time in self-help literature, so what I am saying here is nothing new. But I did learn something from my kindergartner. It’s not just knowing the mantras or keeping positive thoughts in mind that matters. There’s something special about seeing the words written down – and put somewhere that might catch us off guard – that has great power to influence us for the better. How, then, can we combine these ideas – the experience I had with my little lunch box note and the research about positive affirmations? One idea is to continue leaving little notes for my child to find. I can also go a step further and leave notes for my husband to find. Even sending someone a quick email or text in the middle of the day just to share kind words can boost his or her mood And maybe, once we start leaving positive notes for our loved ones, they will return the favor (as long as they know how to write J). We can even think creatively and leave random affirmations in books at the library or on a table at the coffee shop. You never know whom you will reach with a positive message. To leave surprise notes for yourself is a bit harder. One trick I used in college was to write on a mirror with dry erase markers. Once you go to bed, you usually forget what you wrote, and you enjoy the surprise message in the morning. Or, if you are more tech savy, there is a FREE app for my iphone called “HiFutureSelf” that lets you send messages to yourself or to other people. In any case, it’s important to see positive messages IN PRINT. Send them to yourself. Send them to other people. Thinking good thoughts can get you far, but writing them down and seeing them can reinforce the mental muscle. It takes lots of lunch box notes to instill a positive life outlook, but if we all start taking lunch box sized action, perhaps together we can feed some souls. |
Diana CurtisWife, mom, stepmom, writing instructor, handbell ringer, choir singer, calligrapher, and expert napper. Archives
December 2017
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