clique track

On "Grey's Anatomy," there has been until recently a shameful neglect of Dr. Miranda Bailey. Finally she is getting a chance to lead again. Her leadership provides me some assertiveness training reinforcement from time to time.

Well, Shonda Rhimes (sister of LeAnn and Busta) is already doing her predictable deflation-of-any-character-who-shows-any-strength-whatsoever thing on Dr. Bailey, and tonight's episode provided me with some food for thought.

First, an old high-school friend showed up to provide a heaping helping of what some call cake. (By the way, Lesley, write your book already. Yes, boys can understand the concept, though probably not immediately and probably never perfectly. In my seven years as a recovering cakeboy, I would claim I have been less cruel to women than before I learned the vocabulary. Sometimes still cruel, of course, but less cruel than before.) And Bailey demonstrated just how powerful an old but life-defining adolescent relationship can remain long after you were supposed to be an adult.

So far, all good, messy, life-situation defining fun.

But then Bailey starts to complain to the local recovering cakeboy (McDreamy), which I approve, and she talks as if the most defeating characteristic of her high school life was wearing a band uniform, and I cannot approve of this one bit.

Why does suddenly membership in the band connote lasting shame into adulthood in our culture? Is this the influence of the "American Pie" movies? Is it really so damaging to think of oneself as a former band geek? I've seen this many places, and it is getting to be an awfully unfair cliche.

My wife claims that this shame varies from school to school, or from region to region. But I would claim that band members should have fewer lasting effects from high school geekitude than other kinds of high school geeks.

Yes, at the time I was occasionally ashamed of my membership in the band rather than in other, more prestigious, high school cliques. In high school, I felt like a geek for enjoying the band so much. But in retrospect, the band was a relatively healthy community that instilled self-respect and leadership ability and plenty of friends and support for its members. And the ability to play an instrument is something to enjoy later in life, not be ashamed of.

(Maybe doing a pronounced "glide stride" during the parade at my son's music class was something to be embarrassed about. I don't know. Other people seemed to be laughing at me.)

And at least I wasn't in the orchestra.

Lunch today was red beans and rice from a cheap mix. With lots of saltines, extra spices, and water. And then I cooked a whole 'nother meal for supper to cover up the smell, due to lingering trauma from an unfortunate olfactory incident during my wife's pregnancy.

you could be headed for the serious strife

I am enough of a snob to be embarrassed by how much I enjoy the most popular drama on TV. (And yeah, I also enjoy the most popular reality show on TV.)

But "Grey's Anatomy" makes some bold choices. They didn't quite kill off the title character tonight, but they did give her a glimpse of a pretty bleak afterlife. And I love theories about the afterlife. I think they reveal a lot about what writers have to say about this world.

For instance, "What Dreams May Come" (the movie--I haven't read the book) tells us that the writer has probably been in recovery, and that life seems to be a constant struggle to connect with people despite misunderstanding and change. And the only hope for happiness is to continue to pay attention to the people around you, and to deal with your pain.

The fascinating but sleep-inducing Japanese movie "After Life" or "Wandafuru raifu" (whatever that means) proposes that the most important element of moving on with life is simply accepting your past. To go on to the next stage of existence, in this life or the next, you need to accept the past-ness, the is-ness, of what has happened. Whether it was good or bad. It is yours.

And tonight, on "Grey's Anatomy" we see a character's near-death experience, and the main obsession of people after they are dead remains the same as on the show: the desperate, futile desire to connect with someone, anyone, especially with the ones you love. Despite all the barriers in the way, despite the inappropriateness of the contact or the degree of intimacy. They just want to touch someone and be touched.

It fits the show, I guess. I just want something more. It makes me sad that the afterlife poses the same problems as the present for most of these writers. But who are we to hope for quick fixes to all our problems, in this world or the next?

Today at lunch I had a Stouffer's Southwest Chicken Panini sandwich, with a really stale handful of original Lay's potato chips, Diet Coke, and 2 Whoppers.