Spider Sense

Young’un (picking up Spider Man lego figure from car floor): I’m going to take Spider Man inside to church today.

Me: Ok.

Young’un: He’s going to think this is craazy.

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Partisanity

Capn: Okay, time to brush your teeth.
Young’un: NO! I DON’T WANT TO!
Capn: Well, that’s one vote. But I vote “yes,” and I am a superdelegate.

So, our law prof, essayist, and reasonable conservative soundbite machine Doug Kmiec endorses Obama:

. . . as Republicans, we are first Americans. As Americans, we must voice our concerns for the well-being of our nation without partisanship when decisions that have been made endanger the body politic.

I like the sound of anyone starting a sentence, “as group, we are first bigger group.” I would guess we are creatures, way before we are voters, but in this case I appreciate the courage of Kmiec’s conviction. I’ll be interested in the impact on him, and maybe others.

HT B,B&B

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Man vs. machine

One of the young’un’s V’tines cards, which he enjoyed for what it contained rather than what it brought to my mind, stated in the declarative and not the imperative:

“Punch-out cars for Valentine’s Day!”

I’ve had years where that sounded about right.

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Sisyphus stops for coffee

I feel the difference
between dependence and trust
in the weight of my child
carried in my arms
or sleeping against my shoulder.
It may only be ounces,
or just distribution;
but feels like two completely different kinds of mass.
The difference settles with a sudden, heavy sweetness
that my heart will not forget.

I am always straining across the gap
between the Ground-of-all-being and the With-us-god,
as if a bridge’s cables could relieve earth’s burden.

Maybe I am more tired
than I have to be.

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Bringing up pacifists

“Do you think Hulk and Spider-man would like to drive your tractors?”

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Things I Don’t Have Time to Write About: The Reckoning

1) I’ve got a lot of music in the just-what-I’ve-always-wanted new release pile this summer, but somehow Ryan Adams‘ Easy Tiger is tickling me just right. It’s got this wonderful, easy, meandering Emmylou Harissness to it. Adams was an alt-country darling who never captured my heart, but I’m into this album. Guitar solo.

2) We saw Junebug this weekend. We get through the wife’s queue a lot faster than my cinemambitions. It was good. Strong and silent. I’m still in the rumination phase. Amy Adams.

3) Flight of the Conchords, my friends. Flight. of. the. Conchords.

4) We’ve been building the young’un’s library recently, and here are a few of my favorite recent adds: My Book of Thanks, The Man and the Vine, M Is for Music, Our Father. Of course, we are also very well read on trucks. Editor’s Note: And, grateful for the gift books! Notice above I said these were “my” favorites. 🙂

5) I’ve been using myYahoo for some time as a homepage, a good place to collect my favorite headlines and a few links, but always feel like Yahoo (or Google, which I tried for a while) is the man, and the man is against everything I believe in. Yahoo hates Santa. Anyway, I’m quite pleased with Netvibes, which doesn’t give me that “the man” feeling, and, after a little adjusting, does the job nicely. It’s probably still the man, I know. Mac is the man. Peet’s is the man. Bob Dylan’s the man. You gotta serve somebody.

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Hi, neighbor.

I’m in a phase of life where Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood is the most consistent TV viewing I’m doing. So I have a lot of time to think about it.

Somebody submitted a Postsecret card a few weeks ago that was a Mr. Rogers postcard with a message like, “You didn’t prepare me for how cruel the world could be.” I’ve been thinking about this. I realize that there is some legitimate concern about Rogers’ emphasis on self-esteem, his (Carl) Rogerian, therapeutic approach to people’s specialness and feelings, and sense that the way he suggests viewing yourself and others is just not realistic. Especially for a man of his age – a sentiment behind a lot of folks’ judgment that Mr. Rogers is just a little creepy. But I disagree.

What I’ve noticed about Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood is that it is filled with the most gifted people on the planet – Yo Yo Ma, Itzhak Pearlman, Wynton Marsalis, to name a few – and shoe salesmen, and Special Olympians, and a full range of people, tasks, and social roles, each of which Mr. Rogers treats with complete attention, sincere admiration, great curiosity, and tremendous appreciation.

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Life’s tough, kid.

I was looking for some new books for the young’un, and ran across this inspiring description (full description included):

Anna’s Corn
“Listen to the corn, Anna,”
Grandpa said. “It makes
its own kind of music.”

The music of the corn is beautiful to Anna, just like Grandpa’s raspy, crackling voice. When winter comes, though, Grandpa dies.

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Nice beat, and I can dance to it.

The current top five requests by toddlers in our back seat, for the week ending April 21, 2007:

5) “Radio Man,” David Wilcox (down 3 spots from last week)
4) “Shabalala,” Ladysmith Black Mambazo
3) “Can’t Stop,” Ozomatli
2) “We’re from Barcelona,” I’m from Barcelona
and at number 1:
“La La La,” Bert & Ernie

Number 3 holds position with the memorable refrain “shake it, shake it; shake it, shake it” inspiring random bursts of gyration at home. 1,2, and 4 are favorites for the infectious “la la la”s throughout. It’s “Radio Man’s” lyrical poigniancy that keeps it in the top five, but in trying times such as these, we naturally lean towards simple pop accessibility.

Number 6 with a bullet: The Weepies, “Gotta Have You.” With its even beats, easy nouns, and litany of “no’s,” this song’s headed for a number one spot.

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Corduroy? Baby Einstein? Clifford the Big Red Dog? Morons.

In A Color of His Own, Leo Lionni tells the story of a chameleon’s unease over his inability to maintain a coherent identity. His mirrored image is as impermanent as the colors of his context, whether shifting out from underneath or losing their own hue over time. Finally, in the darkness of the tall grass, the chameleon finds a companion. This friend cannot guarantee a color to permanently define him, but can promise to share in every change together. I read this to a class I taught to illustrate the crises and characteristics of life in the late-modern world, where it is not a shared certain foundation that makes for reality, but the identity we form in a community of shared narrative. Sure, there’ll have to be some supplementary texts, but I expect my toddler to be fully equipped for his postmodern condition.

Peggy Rathmann’s Goodnight Gorilla tells the story of a zoo watchman being followed on his nightly rounds by a gorilla who swiped the watchman’s keys. As the watchman makes sure each animal is down for the night, the gorilla opens their cages, and they join a stealthy parade back to the watchman’s house, into the watchman’s bedroom. When his wife says, “goodnight,” she is surprised to hear each animal respond in kind, and to find the gorilla cozied up between her and her husband. His wife turns the light back on, and silently escorts the zoo back to their cages. I have no doubt that this is the story of my spouse, and I am sure many others – spouses, dear friends, family, spiritual companions – who welcome us home even when we’ve left the door open behind us.

Also, I am fairly sure Dr. Seuss’s The Foot Book is a highly nuanced critique of the two-party system.

Left foot, left foot, right foot, right. . . .

Pulitzer.

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