I grew up in the 50's and 60's, the heyday of television. When I was teaching, kids were incredulous that I remembered life before TV. We got our first TV when I was five in 1955. There wasn't much programming in the early '50's. That quickly changed. Between 1955 and 1970, American life revolved around TV. Since there were only three channels plus maybe one local channel that ran bad local programming, every 10 year old I knew had memorized the exact line up of the TV shows every single night of the week, well, up to bedtime anyway.
Families developed tastes. For example, my family watched "Have Gun Will Travel" while Drake's did not. Everybody watched Andy Griffith, Bonanza and Ed Sullivan. All kids watched cartoons after school. I was a traditionalist as a kid; I only really WATCHED the old Hollywood cartoons that would appear on the local channel's kiddie show. The most famous of these kiddie shows, Bozo, got syndicated, but usually each town of any size had their own desperate actor who would assume a persona, do pratfalls, interview sweaty, snotty, scout troops on bleachers watching the program live, and introduce old cartoons. And then there was Saturday morning: All cartoons, all the time up until about 11 am. Now that was living: Parents asleep, bowl of Sugar Pops, and sitting 12" from the glowing TV.
My first cartoon love affair, which continues to this day, was with Scooby Doo. As the age of 25, I would leisurely arise on Saturday morning to drink coffee and smoke endless cigarettes while being entranced by Freddie, Daphne, Velma and Shaggy. Scooby was only of passing interest since his speech impediment annoyed me. At age 40 I got to come out of the closet and watch cartoons with my five year old daughter. She liked Scooby, but was much more enthralled with the sappy Care Bears. We both agreed that Winnie the Pooh and The Blustery Day was high art. She fell away from cartoons quickly, so I had to go back into the closet.
My favorites over the next 20 years were: Dexter's Laboratory, the PowerPuff Girls, Spongebob Squarepants, ScoobyDoo Kids, and Jimmy Neutron. I watched all of them by myself with both Drake and Sarah rolling their eyes when they saw me glued to the dancing figures. I no longer get to watch while smoking - a great pleasure lost to the realities of health. I only drink coffee infrequently, but can still find time to sit down with my healthful glass of water (boring), and tune in. In some ways it's easier to find cartoons due to Nicktoons, Cartoon Network, and Boom, but also harder to find ones I REALLY like. In the old days, man, you could count on cartoons at 3:30pm every day like teatime is to the British. Somehow, the constant availability has diluted the pleasure.
Tuning in the other day, I was electrified to find a NEW cartoon series that I really, really liked. My favorite Jimmy Neutron character - the one will all the laugh lines - had been given his own series. WOW! This is like winning a mini-lottery. So, FYI: Planet Sheen is on Nicktoons, but you have to search for it since it floats around. You'll have to excuse me; I just found the Jetson's on Boom. Cripes, is George really THAT dumb?
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
For the Girls, it's 1972
I've joked and said that living in Logan is being time-traveled back to 1962. Well, I've discovered the young women I know from class are poised to leap into the last quarter of the 20th century. It's slowly dawning on these women who have grown up with the culturally imposed expectation that their purpose is to become loving wives and dynamite mothers, that perhaps, just perhaps, there might be other life paths.
They are split about even in my class - we have four who are already married or about to get married, and some even have either a child or children which they popped out before they were 25. Now, they are struggling to get an education, work crappy jobs, be a mom, and try to make a marriage work while struggling with financial hardship. It just seems like the priorities for women who live here are all messed up.
Then, there are the women in class who are struggling to have an identity different than what is expected. They are in their 20's and not married even though they freely admit their families are exerting pressure for them to do so. Some have 'left the church' - which means they are non-practicing Mormons. (Had THAT discussion today - I think that once a Mormon, always a Mormon - just what gradient - devout, practicing, non-practicing - kind of like you are always Catholic or Jewish or Evangelical whether you participate or not because of your upbringing.) Oh, sorry, off the topic.
Anyway, I think we could use some good consciousness raising here: I'll do my part. Here's a website in which women talk about the books that were turning points in their lives: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2007/sep/26/gender.politicsphilosophyandsociety
Pick up some of these books. They will open some windows, and maybe even some doors.
They are split about even in my class - we have four who are already married or about to get married, and some even have either a child or children which they popped out before they were 25. Now, they are struggling to get an education, work crappy jobs, be a mom, and try to make a marriage work while struggling with financial hardship. It just seems like the priorities for women who live here are all messed up.
Then, there are the women in class who are struggling to have an identity different than what is expected. They are in their 20's and not married even though they freely admit their families are exerting pressure for them to do so. Some have 'left the church' - which means they are non-practicing Mormons. (Had THAT discussion today - I think that once a Mormon, always a Mormon - just what gradient - devout, practicing, non-practicing - kind of like you are always Catholic or Jewish or Evangelical whether you participate or not because of your upbringing.) Oh, sorry, off the topic.
Anyway, I think we could use some good consciousness raising here: I'll do my part. Here's a website in which women talk about the books that were turning points in their lives: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2007/sep/26/gender.politicsphilosophyandsociety
Pick up some of these books. They will open some windows, and maybe even some doors.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Small Chairs
Just like all good and proper students everywhere, I have saved one monster assignment for the very last minute. The assignment is to blog consecutively for seven days. Sigh........ I've found three times a week to be a pretty hefty challenge, but we'll see if I have anything to say for seven days in a row.
Last night we went to the Ellen Eccles theater to see five people play the piano, actually a pair of pianos. Logan has an Opera Company which has a full orchestra as part of the company. The pianos players from the company put on a show called '8 Hands and 2 Pianos'. There were actually 10 hands, and at the finale all 10 hands played two pianos. You just had to be there.
One of the Logan claims to fame is all the musical talent that is everywhere in this town. There is the straight theater with accompanying music - that's the Lyric Theater and then there's the Opera Company with accompanying music - that's the Ellen Eccles Theater. As far as I can tell, it's about the same talent level with the Eccles winning out because THEIR SEATS ARE COMFORTABLE.
The Lyric Theater was build in 'ought something and the seats are those wooden folding seats - which they have put a cushion on, but they are designed for the 19th century behind. It's seats like these that really make me realize that Americans are getting BIGGER. Now, it's not all obesity; we are just better nourished and our bone structure is bigger than 100 years ago. If Drake, who doesn't have a fat cell in his body, thinks these chairs are too small, well, by gum, those chairs are too small.
Last night we went to the Ellen Eccles theater to see five people play the piano, actually a pair of pianos. Logan has an Opera Company which has a full orchestra as part of the company. The pianos players from the company put on a show called '8 Hands and 2 Pianos'. There were actually 10 hands, and at the finale all 10 hands played two pianos. You just had to be there.
One of the Logan claims to fame is all the musical talent that is everywhere in this town. There is the straight theater with accompanying music - that's the Lyric Theater and then there's the Opera Company with accompanying music - that's the Ellen Eccles Theater. As far as I can tell, it's about the same talent level with the Eccles winning out because THEIR SEATS ARE COMFORTABLE.
The Lyric Theater was build in 'ought something and the seats are those wooden folding seats - which they have put a cushion on, but they are designed for the 19th century behind. It's seats like these that really make me realize that Americans are getting BIGGER. Now, it's not all obesity; we are just better nourished and our bone structure is bigger than 100 years ago. If Drake, who doesn't have a fat cell in his body, thinks these chairs are too small, well, by gum, those chairs are too small.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Finding the Names.....
Today, I learned that the blooming tree with the fragrant hanging bell blossoms is a Linden. Everyone in class was, "Oh, yeah, of course, that's a Linden. The subtext was "Everybody knows THAT tree." Newsflash: If you are new to an area, and I mean from more than 500 miles away, then not only is the landscape different, but the flora is also different. We don't have Linden trees in Texas. I didn't see them in the East either, or if I did, I didn't recognize them because plant appearances change from season to season.
A common thread running through all the locations I've been in is that most people don't have any clue what the names are of the plants and trees in their own backyards. Yes, people recognize 'maple' and 'rose', but get much beyond those generics and when I ask, "What is that?" the answer is generally a shoulder shrug. It was like that in Sun City with the cactus. One of the best things about Sun City is that it is a 50 year old community specifically desert landscaped. Now, the streets are stuffed with fabulous mature cactus which no one knows the names of. My only defense was to do a study of cactus and educate myself.
Book in hand, bottle of water in basket, helmet securely fastened, I rode my bike throughout Sun City trying to determine the names of the cactus I was seeing. The best thing about Sun City bike riding is that it is FLAT. I quickly discovered that I could also generalize about cactus: barrell, pincushion, prickly pear, but the nuances within those catagories were what was interesting. This is a barrell cactus, but it is also called a Senilis - a bastardized Latin form meaning 'old' referring to the white hair that hides the thorns.
There's a whole genus of cactus, the centia, which have one common denominator - they are giant. The Saguro is called The Monarch of the Desert, and is the most famous in this genus. However, there are lots of other giant cactus, and no one knows their names.
Prickly pear cactus are the most common cactus and certainly the most widespread, but other than the two weeks a year that they bloom, they are low growing menaces to feet and cattle. However, there is one prickly pear of note: The purple prickly pear. It's still fairly low growing, and it's still a menace, but at least it's pretty all year round. Perhaps because purple is my favorite color has something to do with my fascination for this plant.
In any other location cactus would mostly be dead boring, but they are the only spots of color in closely set together houses which are all some shade of brown. Such a sad commentary on the imagination of the people of southern Arizona; would it kill them to paint their houses pastel shades instead of BROWN? Then, each street could be it's own rainbow. Instead, they must rely on cactus to colorize their existence.
A common thread running through all the locations I've been in is that most people don't have any clue what the names are of the plants and trees in their own backyards. Yes, people recognize 'maple' and 'rose', but get much beyond those generics and when I ask, "What is that?" the answer is generally a shoulder shrug. It was like that in Sun City with the cactus. One of the best things about Sun City is that it is a 50 year old community specifically desert landscaped. Now, the streets are stuffed with fabulous mature cactus which no one knows the names of. My only defense was to do a study of cactus and educate myself.
Book in hand, bottle of water in basket, helmet securely fastened, I rode my bike throughout Sun City trying to determine the names of the cactus I was seeing. The best thing about Sun City bike riding is that it is FLAT. I quickly discovered that I could also generalize about cactus: barrell, pincushion, prickly pear, but the nuances within those catagories were what was interesting. This is a barrell cactus, but it is also called a Senilis - a bastardized Latin form meaning 'old' referring to the white hair that hides the thorns. 
There's a whole genus of cactus, the centia, which have one common denominator - they are giant. The Saguro is called The Monarch of the Desert, and is the most famous in this genus. However, there are lots of other giant cactus, and no one knows their names.
In any other location cactus would mostly be dead boring, but they are the only spots of color in closely set together houses which are all some shade of brown. Such a sad commentary on the imagination of the people of southern Arizona; would it kill them to paint their houses pastel shades instead of BROWN? Then, each street could be it's own rainbow. Instead, they must rely on cactus to colorize their existence.
Back to the Hyper
One of the things the accident has done is set me back on my get into better shape program. We have access to both an indoor swimming pool as well as the HYPER (Health, Phys Ed, Recreation Building) which has weights, elipticals, machines, treadmills, and bikes. And, of course, the horrible hill up to the campus.
These hills around here are daunting. The students are in awesome shape. They RUN up these hills. They arrive in class with a little dewy glow not even breathing hard. I hate them. Being 20 MIGHT have something to do with this. Valerie rides her bike up the hill, and her goal is to beat her brother's time. She's hovering at 10 minutes, and I'm rooting for her to break 9 minutes by next week.
We have two football players in our class, and they are not only huge but with awesome muscles. There are no fat people in my class...except ME
These hills around here are daunting. The students are in awesome shape. They RUN up these hills. They arrive in class with a little dewy glow not even breathing hard. I hate them. Being 20 MIGHT have something to do with this. Valerie rides her bike up the hill, and her goal is to beat her brother's time. She's hovering at 10 minutes, and I'm rooting for her to break 9 minutes by next week.
We have two football players in our class, and they are not only huge but with awesome muscles. There are no fat people in my class...except ME
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Moving
I've been corresponding with a friend of mine who has recently moved a great distance. They left Texas to pursue a dream of living in Alaska. They were there for more than two years. Before she left, I suggested to her when you 'leave' it takes about 18 months to really feel at home again.
That's what happened to me when we left Texas for New Orleans. Similar to moving to Alaska, going to live in NOLA (New Orleans, Louisiana) was like moving to a foreign country. Feeling transplanted to a different culture was made even more bizarre because Lousiana and Texas share a border. I discovered in my NOLA time that's about all they share.
Another friend is leaving Texas, where she has lived her entire life, to move to Minnesota, and she's already worried. I have plenty to say on this subject since I've been moving almost constantly for the past two years. My reaction to the NOLA prepared me for this peripatetic lifestyle we live now. When I arrived in Naw'lins, I was, at first, so interested in all the differences. However, when the new wore off, I plunged into what I recognize from hindsight as a pretty severe depression. During that period, I was way too vocal about how I HATED EVERYTHING ABOUT THE PLACE. Looking back, I cringe at how I dissed the entire culture and must have insulted the people I was meeting.
Now, my friend who left for Alaska has moved back to Texas. She's been shocked to discover there's something to Thomas Wolfe's idea you 'can't go home again'. I think that means you can physically go back to a place you called home, but you won't be the same person who originally left. In the USA we think we all relocate, but that's actually not true. In a recent book I read, the author is looking for the statistically average American. It turns out one of the qualities of that person is they never move more than 8 miles from the exact locale where they were born.
If you are a 'mover', take a deep breath. Expect to long for where you've left. There are going to be some bad days. Be patient. Everything passes, and everyone adjusts. You can choose to adjust easily or the hard way to the trials of resettling into a new place or a new old place. It's mostly up to you, but it's OK to be caught by surprise by powerful feelings about the experience. Our homes from our actual physical residences to our towns to our states grow into us and become part of who we are. Parts of me will always be Okie and other parts will always be Texan. I'm increasingly feeling I'm taking bits of these other places I've lighted for a few months with me when I leave. I'm already realizing that I'm going to be tuning into USU football when it pops up this fall, and rooting for Bryce and Jorden to be starting linemen. Go Aggies!
That's what happened to me when we left Texas for New Orleans. Similar to moving to Alaska, going to live in NOLA (New Orleans, Louisiana) was like moving to a foreign country. Feeling transplanted to a different culture was made even more bizarre because Lousiana and Texas share a border. I discovered in my NOLA time that's about all they share.
Another friend is leaving Texas, where she has lived her entire life, to move to Minnesota, and she's already worried. I have plenty to say on this subject since I've been moving almost constantly for the past two years. My reaction to the NOLA prepared me for this peripatetic lifestyle we live now. When I arrived in Naw'lins, I was, at first, so interested in all the differences. However, when the new wore off, I plunged into what I recognize from hindsight as a pretty severe depression. During that period, I was way too vocal about how I HATED EVERYTHING ABOUT THE PLACE. Looking back, I cringe at how I dissed the entire culture and must have insulted the people I was meeting.
Now, my friend who left for Alaska has moved back to Texas. She's been shocked to discover there's something to Thomas Wolfe's idea you 'can't go home again'. I think that means you can physically go back to a place you called home, but you won't be the same person who originally left. In the USA we think we all relocate, but that's actually not true. In a recent book I read, the author is looking for the statistically average American. It turns out one of the qualities of that person is they never move more than 8 miles from the exact locale where they were born.
If you are a 'mover', take a deep breath. Expect to long for where you've left. There are going to be some bad days. Be patient. Everything passes, and everyone adjusts. You can choose to adjust easily or the hard way to the trials of resettling into a new place or a new old place. It's mostly up to you, but it's OK to be caught by surprise by powerful feelings about the experience. Our homes from our actual physical residences to our towns to our states grow into us and become part of who we are. Parts of me will always be Okie and other parts will always be Texan. I'm increasingly feeling I'm taking bits of these other places I've lighted for a few months with me when I leave. I'm already realizing that I'm going to be tuning into USU football when it pops up this fall, and rooting for Bryce and Jorden to be starting linemen. Go Aggies!
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