This morning I finished Russell Banks' novel Cloudsplitter, which I picked up after reading Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson. Both books deal with the "Kansas wars" of the pre-civil war era, with the figure of John Brown looming large.
As a recent immigrant to the Midwest, I had always underestimated this area. This is a place where the people are nice, sure, but not very interesting, right? And this is a place where not much has ever happened, as far as I had heard. The very definition of "flyover country" to jet-setters from the coasts.
Yet these books tell another story. While Gilead has characters who share this unsymphathetic view of the Midwest (a boring place to leave as quickly as possible), the total picture from the books is one of a region that formerly spilled over with violent struggle and moral courage. These were the first battlegrounds of the fight to free the slaves.
And today's solid, stubborn, self-denying residents of the region (the people that Garrison Keillor makes fun of all the time) turn out to be the descendents of moral heroes whose same traits were essential in changing this country. And people don't know the history of it. Not even the residents know their history.
In my previous home state, Texas, school children are required to study the history of the state, often in ugly self-serving anti-revisionist versions of history that celebrate the smug capitalist white folks who greedily broke the terms of their contracts to get better land deals, while demonizing or ignoring the native population, the people and government of Mexico (which was OUR history--just ask "Six Flags") and African-Americans.
Meanwhile, the people I asked about local history around here seemed to buy the consensus of the world that nothing much had ever happened here.
I had already come to respect the creativity, intelligence, and general kindness of the people here. But now, as I learn the historical significance for our country's greatest moral struggle in its history, I see just how interesting a place I have come to live.
Somebody pinch me. I never thought I would find this region interesting.
Today for lunch I had two KFC Snackers: one original (with great gobs of remarkably peppery and vinegary dressing) and one with cheese sauce. It was yummy, but I wish I had gotten a side instead of one of the sandwiches. I ate light because I had a late and huge breakfast, many snacks at work, and was anticipating an early supper. Not a bad lunch for $2.18.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Thursday, March 8, 2007
I dare you to eat that
When I was a late pre-teen, I considered myself a troubled youth. I had all these questions about life and the universe that none of my peers seemed to have. I took all sorts of things more seriously than the people around me. So I decided I was probably crazy.
(If only Gnarls Barkley had been around then!)
So I asked my neighbor friend if I was crazy, and together we developed a test. We called it my crazy test. He would suggest things that you would have to be crazy to do, and I would see if I was willing to do them. For example, I jumped off the roof of the shed by his house. And stared at the sun. And other vaguely self-destructive benign things.
But my favorite challenges were the food challenges. We anticipated Survivor by years. I was frequently challenged to eat gross things. Dirt. Worms. Pillbugs. Dog and cat food. (Gaines burgers were my favorite, but Milk Bone biscuits would help clean my teeth.)
Our tests were never conclusive. I wouldn't find out definitively that I was crazy for years. It finally came as a bit of a relief.
But to this day, I am a bit of a daredevil. Only when it comes to ideas and food, though. I am a chicken when it comes to physical danger or amusement park rides or starting new projects. But I'll try almost anything to eat.
Once, shortly after I moved to this town, I went with some work colleagues to a Chinese buffet. They had prominent signs on the wall claiming that they had passed their health inspections, which is never a good sign. Apparently some time ago they had been shut down for numerous violations of the health code.
Anyway, the food seemed fine, and I was enjoying the variety of things on the buffet. But on the dessert line I noticed a bowl of strange little white globes floating in some sort of syrup. The balls were veined and resembled nothing more than little floating blind eyeballs. So when the waitress came to our table I asked what they were.
"Chinese Leech," she replied, with a concerned look.
Well, this meant that I had to try it. My table mates did not share my reaction. But I went and got a couple and popped them in my mouth. It was surprisingly sweet, with a nice crunchy texture, but a little slippery at the same time. Only after eating a couple did I realize that she meant to say "leeks." And then I wasn't nearly as interested.
So the other day when I heard about Frog's Eye Salad, I had to try it. Turns out to taste not much different from tapioca pudding, but crunchier. (I've always wanted to see what a tapioca tree looks like.) It's some sort of quasi-jello salad made with some small round pasta. The lady at my table claimed the recipe is on the box for Acine di'Pepe.
Anyway, food experimentation was a big part of my (limited) sense of cosmopolitanism. I used to feel proud that I had eaten Ethiopian food, Thai food, and plenty of local stuff wherever I visited. But these days I mostly cook and eat relatively tame stuff.
Today's lunch, for instance, was the perfectly pleasing but rather ordinary Ham and Cheese omelet from Perkins, with hash browns, coffee (lots of cream and sugar), and three pancakes. Also, three kinds of syrup--apricot, blueberry, and maple--one on each cake, but all layered together. This meal brings back great memories from my schooling in the Midwest.
(If only Gnarls Barkley had been around then!)
So I asked my neighbor friend if I was crazy, and together we developed a test. We called it my crazy test. He would suggest things that you would have to be crazy to do, and I would see if I was willing to do them. For example, I jumped off the roof of the shed by his house. And stared at the sun. And other vaguely self-destructive benign things.
But my favorite challenges were the food challenges. We anticipated Survivor by years. I was frequently challenged to eat gross things. Dirt. Worms. Pillbugs. Dog and cat food. (Gaines burgers were my favorite, but Milk Bone biscuits would help clean my teeth.)
Our tests were never conclusive. I wouldn't find out definitively that I was crazy for years. It finally came as a bit of a relief.
But to this day, I am a bit of a daredevil. Only when it comes to ideas and food, though. I am a chicken when it comes to physical danger or amusement park rides or starting new projects. But I'll try almost anything to eat.
Once, shortly after I moved to this town, I went with some work colleagues to a Chinese buffet. They had prominent signs on the wall claiming that they had passed their health inspections, which is never a good sign. Apparently some time ago they had been shut down for numerous violations of the health code.
Anyway, the food seemed fine, and I was enjoying the variety of things on the buffet. But on the dessert line I noticed a bowl of strange little white globes floating in some sort of syrup. The balls were veined and resembled nothing more than little floating blind eyeballs. So when the waitress came to our table I asked what they were.
"Chinese Leech," she replied, with a concerned look.
Well, this meant that I had to try it. My table mates did not share my reaction. But I went and got a couple and popped them in my mouth. It was surprisingly sweet, with a nice crunchy texture, but a little slippery at the same time. Only after eating a couple did I realize that she meant to say "leeks." And then I wasn't nearly as interested.
So the other day when I heard about Frog's Eye Salad, I had to try it. Turns out to taste not much different from tapioca pudding, but crunchier. (I've always wanted to see what a tapioca tree looks like.) It's some sort of quasi-jello salad made with some small round pasta. The lady at my table claimed the recipe is on the box for Acine di'Pepe.
Anyway, food experimentation was a big part of my (limited) sense of cosmopolitanism. I used to feel proud that I had eaten Ethiopian food, Thai food, and plenty of local stuff wherever I visited. But these days I mostly cook and eat relatively tame stuff.
Today's lunch, for instance, was the perfectly pleasing but rather ordinary Ham and Cheese omelet from Perkins, with hash browns, coffee (lots of cream and sugar), and three pancakes. Also, three kinds of syrup--apricot, blueberry, and maple--one on each cake, but all layered together. This meal brings back great memories from my schooling in the Midwest.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
non-judgment day
On my first post from February 23, I don't think I represented the movie "What Dreams May Come" very well. What I like about its imaginary world is the way it posits an afterlife that seems less judgmental than most.
Most of the movie takes place in an afterlife world--it's neither the traditional heaven or the traditional hell. For one thing, movement between the nice parts and the awful parts is possible. For another thing, God (or any sort of authority figure) seems almost as absent as in our own world.
But what is most interesting to me is how this movie about the afterlife sidesteps an issue that has always troubled me: God the perfect judge. How do you reconcile God's perfect justice with God's loving mercy and the fact (in most afterlife scenarios) that everybody has to be assigned some place that is definite, fixed, and eternal? Which categories supercede others? Does my past as a murderer mean that I go with all the murderers, despite all my charity work with kids? Is there some perfect solution for distributing every person to an appropriate assignment, even with a more subtle system than the binary heaven or hell?
Well, says this movie, the assignment is simply that you, basically, continue to be who you were. If you were fixated on visual impressions, you'll have a beautiful afterlife. If you were a dog, heaven will have a lot of smells. And more to the point, if you surrounded yourself with people, you'll find heaven well populated. If you cut yourself off from people in this world, the afterlife will be lonely. Whether this feels like punishment or a blessing is open to interpretation.
This seems to (partially) get God off the hook for being arbitrary in judgment. You simply are punished or blessed with who you have proven yourself to be. This also leaves open the room for further improvement. Maybe there will be further levels later once you have gotten over the baggage from this existence (like in "Defending Your Life" or Hinduism).
Ultimately, this movie shows a vision of the afterlife as an exaggerated version of this life. Which is why I think it has much more to say about life now than about the future. You are in hell now if you make it so. You are in heaven now if you are truly connected with what is eternal. So why say anything at all about what dreams may come?
Today's lunch continued the leftover extravaganza. More reheated pork roast with the vegetables it came with and saltines. Diet coke to drink, and a peanut butter chocolate chip granola bar for dessert.
Most of the movie takes place in an afterlife world--it's neither the traditional heaven or the traditional hell. For one thing, movement between the nice parts and the awful parts is possible. For another thing, God (or any sort of authority figure) seems almost as absent as in our own world.
But what is most interesting to me is how this movie about the afterlife sidesteps an issue that has always troubled me: God the perfect judge. How do you reconcile God's perfect justice with God's loving mercy and the fact (in most afterlife scenarios) that everybody has to be assigned some place that is definite, fixed, and eternal? Which categories supercede others? Does my past as a murderer mean that I go with all the murderers, despite all my charity work with kids? Is there some perfect solution for distributing every person to an appropriate assignment, even with a more subtle system than the binary heaven or hell?
Well, says this movie, the assignment is simply that you, basically, continue to be who you were. If you were fixated on visual impressions, you'll have a beautiful afterlife. If you were a dog, heaven will have a lot of smells. And more to the point, if you surrounded yourself with people, you'll find heaven well populated. If you cut yourself off from people in this world, the afterlife will be lonely. Whether this feels like punishment or a blessing is open to interpretation.
This seems to (partially) get God off the hook for being arbitrary in judgment. You simply are punished or blessed with who you have proven yourself to be. This also leaves open the room for further improvement. Maybe there will be further levels later once you have gotten over the baggage from this existence (like in "Defending Your Life" or Hinduism).
Ultimately, this movie shows a vision of the afterlife as an exaggerated version of this life. Which is why I think it has much more to say about life now than about the future. You are in hell now if you make it so. You are in heaven now if you are truly connected with what is eternal. So why say anything at all about what dreams may come?
Today's lunch continued the leftover extravaganza. More reheated pork roast with the vegetables it came with and saltines. Diet coke to drink, and a peanut butter chocolate chip granola bar for dessert.
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