A literary night--and some thoughts on heat and puppies

Tonight was the panel discussion at the Haltom City Public LIbrary celebrating the 50th anniversary of Harper Lee's classic To Kill a Mockingbird. Bob Ray Sanders, a leading journalist and community figure and also a native of Haltom City, moderated a panel discussion that ranged from the book to segregation in Fort Worth--Bob Ray remembers having to walk by three schools to get to the one he was allowed to go to, even though his family had been property owners for generations--and finally to integration in the '60s. Audience participation was lively, and everyone thought it was a stimulating and thought-provoking evening. We talked about the book as literature, as social commentary, and as it relates to today when prejudice surely is not erased from our society though we've come a long way. Othre panels members were author Mike Cochran, a high school teacher who has taught the novel for ten years, and an actress who read portions with great dramatic appeal. I was pleased to see some familiar faces in the audience and to have others stop and talk to me about my work.
Betty and I were joined by my friend Linda from Granbury and her friend Nancy, so we had a happy foursome at supper--I got my favorite meatloaf at the Grill--and it was nice to have my own cheering section in the front row of the audience. I like getting out to events like that and realize I should do more of it. Made some phone calls today to inquire about visiting various book clubs in the area.
I don't think Sophie had ever seen me in a skirt before--she kept biting at the ruffles on it.
I think the high today was 108, maybe a notch or two higher. I know the heat will end, I know it willr ain someday, and I know the puppy will be housebroken, but as you plod along day by day, it all looks like a long way away. The keep predicting lower temperatures--l04 is lower at this point--a few days out, but when that day comes the lower temperatures have been pushed further away. Sue asked me last night if it scared me, like maybe it would just keep getting worse and worse. I said that doesn't frighten me as much as the the feeling that I am trapped by a huge, hot monster, sort of like Grendel in Beowulf.
As if to prove to me that things aren't going to change soon, the puppy just pooped on my office floor. I took her out half an hour ago, probably didn't wait long enough. 'Scuse me--I have some cleaning to do.

Reading (or re-reading?) To Kill a Mockingbird

Several months ago I was asked to be part of a panel discussing To Kill a Mockingbird in August. Smart program planners always ask months in advance, because it's so easy to say yes to something six months away whereas if it were next week, it would be easier to say, "No, can't do that." In the interest of getting my name out as an author, I agreed, all the while thinking "Darn, I'll have to re-read it. It's been way too long." For the past week I've been re-reading that classic book and been totally immersed in it, finding it hard to tear myself away to do the things I really need to be doing.
The panel moderator sent out a list of questions to spark the discussion, and one was when did you first encounter TKAM? In reading, I decided I may never have read the book, though that seems impossible--surely I read it in college or graduate English classes. But I can see the movie clearly in my mind--especially the scene where Atticus shoots the rabid dog--and I'm beginning to wonder if that's the only way I know it. I think this book is so deeply engrained in many of us that we honestly can't remember our first encounter.
Everyone wonders why Harper Lee never wrote another book. I can't speak for her, but I know this book needs no sequel. It ends where it should end, comes full circle, and any attempt to carry it beyond that point would fall flat. Perhaps Lee, with her deep roots in and knowledge of southern culture could have written another totally different book, but she chose not to.
TKAM offers an in-depth writing lesson for authors who want to take time to explore it's structure. The voice of Scout is dead on as narrator--the story could not have been told from any other point of view. Scout combines an unusually acute perception of the world around her--for an eight-year-old--with the naivete of her age, which sometimes leads to the novel's most ironic moments. The society in which the action takes place is fully developed, without didactic description, through Scout's view of things--we see the truth about the black community and the way they're treated, about the poor whites, about the townspeople set in their ways and counting their ancestors.
Atticus troubles me only because he's so wise, so calm, so perfect--but he too has his weak moment, his fall from grace if you will, at the end of the book when he realizes humanity triumphs over law. (No spoilers here). The other characters live in our minds because Scout makes us see them as individuals, often eccentric.
This is not a novel about justice--rather it's a novel about the injustice inherent in our legal system. The tragedy is peculiar to the South in the 1930s and yet it is with us today--dare I cite the Casey Anthony case? While that case is tawdry at this point, TKAM is rich with humanity--its great moments, its small moments, and, yes, a good dose or humor--not slapstick, always the ironic comment or turn of events.
Harper Lee's novel will make you laugh, wring your hands, and despair for humanity, but it will in the end enrich you. I've always thought a novel could be called significant if when you finished it you were in a slightly different place emotionally or intellectually than when you began it. TKAM fits that criteria. And if you're a writer, this novel will teach you about subtlety and economy of words and the soft but sure approach to telling a story.
Maybe Harper Lee knows best. She might feel, to this day, that she could never equal this accomplishment. I for one bow to her judgment and wishes. Did you know she has decreed that no edition of the book will ever have an introduction? Good--scholars won't be picking it apart and dissecting it as scientists do a moth or butterfly.

Good small things about a holiday weekend

When I had a houseful of teenagers, weekends, especially holiday weekends, were wonderful, crowded with my children and their friends coming and going. I routinely cooked Sunday dinner for at least ten and usually more. I loved the hectic atmosphere. But now that I live alone, weekends tend to be long, and I confess that I dreaded this holiday a bit. Then again, I'm a different person these days (I think)--more relaxed and able to go with the flow. I can spend a morning getting my household going, taking care of my animals and plants, reading email, exercising, showering--suddenly it's almost lunch time, and that's some of what happened this weekend. Another good thing was Jacob--he spent Friday night and is spending Sunday night with me. So here are a few things that I think made it a good weekend:
--Jacob and I spent Friday night in companionable silence. He was on his bed in the playroom, watching TV, worn out as he often is at the end of a school day; he likes me to be in the room but not bother him, so I usually find something I can do away from the computer. This night I sorted recipes, which for me is fun. We had a pleasant evening together.
--I spent a lot of time researching anchovies and anchovy recipes for my food blog, Potluck with Judy, and was pleased with the results--it could have been twice as long. But I'm not sure if anyone read it. Although I'm supposed to post it on Sunday nights, I got mixed up because I wrote it last night and went ahead and posted it. It's a funny thing about blogs--those you think will get lots of comments don't, and the most offhand comment on Facebook can draw twenty comments or more. I love anchovies, but if you're leery of them, check out this blog post. http://potluckwithjudy.blogspot.com.
--Saturday morning Jacob and I went to Central Market. I didn't have a long shopping list and didn't need meat, which often means waiting a long time. He had a delightful time riding on the end of the cart and putting his toys in the rack there--have you ever tried to steer a cart with an almost-fifty lb. boy child on the other end? Hard to do. (Yes, he's in the higher weight percentile and the doctor has begun to talk to his parents about his snacks.) We came home and had lunch--he ate almost a whole can of Spaghetti-Os, a half ear of corn, and a chocolate waffle. Maybe the latter was dessert?
--Saturday night and again Sunday morning I forgot about dietary cautions and indulged myself. Sat. night I put chocolate/mint sauce on one of the small ice cream cups I keep for Jacob and the other grandchildren (I never put chocolate sauce on them for anyone else); this morning I scrambled not one but two eggs with smoked salmon.
--Saturday night I went out on the porch with a glass of wine and a book, but the dead cone flowers caught my eye. Greg, who keeps my garden in order, is out on medical leave for three weeks, but these flowers really look ugly. They need to be cut back and the heads scattered where they are to seed for next year. I don't usually try it because my footing on the lawn is uncertain--no, let's say my confidence in my footing is uncertain. But last night I took clippers, a lightweight bench (can't bend over and cut flowers for more than two seconds and this one bunch took 45 minutes) and a walking stick and attacked one whole bed of cone flowers. A double-size bed to go but I'll do it bit by bit in the cool (?) of the evening.
--A wonderful irony: yesterday the mail brought a royalty check from Amazon for $25.26 and an electric bill for $251.76. Something out of whack with my income and outgo, but it made me laugh.
--Tonight Jacob and I labored over his letter to our friend Weldon, who does something with comic books and online stuff and asked for a letter from Jacob about Kung Fu Panda. Jacob dictated to me, but his letter was basically asking Weldon to buy him some toys and then "Have a good day, Weldon" which he repeated five times--I think he's listened to his parents too long. He also got the giggles trying to tell me how grumpy he was. Yeah, sure.
--I'm re-reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Scout's voice is right on, and it reminds me all over again how important voice is in fiction. I've always said that Elmer Kelton's voice carries his fiction, and now I've found another voice perfectly on pitch. I'm reading this because I'm to be on a panel on the book in August and thought it might be a pain--but the reading makes it all worthwhile.
Jacob and I will probably go to the neighborhood parade tomorrow and then before lunch he'll go off with his folks. But I'm sure tomorrow will bring it's own small blessings.

Exploring

My friend Carol and I went exploring today. During my time at TCU Press, we talked to members of the Sanders family about a history of the Garden of Eden, an African-American community on the east side of Fort Worth. It's residents have dwindled in numbers, but the descendants of Major Cheney, who founded the community in the 19th century, still live on the family property and there are other residences scattered around, although the area is now heavily industrial. When we worked on Grace & Gumption: The Cookbook, newly out, I had the pleasure of getting to know Brenda Sanders-Wise, a prime mover in organizing the history. Carol has been given the task of researching and delving into the history to help shape the book. So we both wanted to see the Garden of Eden. Alas, there's not much to see from the street, though a piece of land being cleared bears a sign indicating it is the future home of a replication of the home of Major and Malinda Cheney--whether it's the first home that burned or the second I don't know, but I think most of the family homes are way back off the road, in the woods and close to the river. They still raise their own produce in summer and fix lavish Sunday meals--we though maybe if they saw us drive by we'd be invited for lunch, but of course we saw no one. But Carol is a back-roads explorer, and we drove down several, mostly surrounded by industrial sites, including perhaps the largest junk car yard I've ever seen. But at least we got a feel for the geography and place, and when we both see Brenda at a happy hour next week, we hope to tell her about our trip and ask some questions.
Then I led Carol the explorer to the beer can house closer to our part of Fort Worth--I've mentioned it before but it is a modest (to say the least) house decorated with an amazijg array of strands and strings of Miller Lite cans, some artistically shaped so that the look almost like Christmas tree ornaments.
Our explorations left us hungry, of course, and we had lunch at Patrizio's, where I had angel hair pasta with artichokes, tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, and a lemony sauce--so good. Tonight I ate out of the refrigerator, using up leftovers from the weekend.
For fans of To Kill a Mockingbird: Today I read about a lawyer who was asked if there could ever be a lawyer like Atticus Finch. He replied he didn't think anyone could be that perfect, but that before he had a serious talk with his teen-age son, he asked himself, "What would Atticus do?" A local bookstore jumped on the idea and is now selling bumper stickeers that ask "What would Atticus do?" and "What would Scout do?" I'm sorry I don't have the information, but you can probably Google "Atticus bumper stickers" and find it. What a great idea!

Retirement the way it ought to be

My pictures didn't come out quite as I intended--the plumbago in the second one doesn't show off its glorious blue color, and in the third the coneflowers that are thick in the front yard don't really show unless you look in the foreground. But the whole garden and porch are so pretty that I just delight in them. Tonight I sat out on the porch--there was a slight breeze, for a change--read a book, and thought a bit smugly how good my life is. (I hope it's not a case where smug goes before a fall!)

This morning it was 10:45 before I was dressed and ready for the day--I am learning to putter. I read my emails, read the newspaper online (how I hate that!), did my yoga, straightened the house a bit, and showered--and there went the morning. More emails, and it was time for lunch with an old friend.

After a good visit over a delicious lunch--I had lox and cream cheese, and he had smoked trout and cream cheese--as I was gettingout of the car, he said, "You're doing everything I hope to do in retirement." And a friend from Omaha emailed me to say she thought I was handling retirement with grace. I do hope so.

This afternoon I actually did some work on the proposal for a nonfiction book that I am trying to put together and ran into that bugaboo for which I'm always on to authors--inadequate documentation. I can't believe I cut out newspaper clippings without the date and page # attached, but I did. All I know is they were published in 2008 in the local paper. A hunt will ensue.

Last night, it seemed hot in the house, and I discovered that though the a/c was laboring, it was almost 80, when I had the thermostat set at 73. My a/c guru told me to turn off the a/c and turn on the fan--the unit had frozen (the filter was wet on one side). It worked, but someone from the company came to check it all out late this afternoon, and all is well, though his ominous words were "It will probably make it through the summer." It was nice tonight to hear the unit kick off--which it hadn't done for over 24 hours. My mind runs to the electric bill.

Betty and I had an adventure tonight--we went exploring in a new upscale condo/restaurant/you name it district. We had eaten at a Mediterranean restaurant there that we didn't really like, so tonight we ate at Bailey's Prime Rib--I had misgivings because it sounded pricey and like heavy food. My misgivings grew when we got inside--most elegant, one of those places with with menus that are as heavy as most books. I whispered that we might have to eat pbj sandwiches for the rest of the month, but we split a fried avocado stuffed with a lobster mixture and each had a small salad, plus a glass of wine. With tip, it was under $30 apiece, though I always feel that people in such places are looking askance at us, as though we've wandered out of our proper milieu. Only when we got up to leave did I realize that Betty was wearing jeans! It was fun, the food was good, but we won't go back. I prefer a more casual atmosphere.

Yesterday I spent the whole day reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo--I had read a lot about it some time ago when it received high critical praise, so I bought it for Megan for Christmas 2008. She took a long time before she got around to reading it, so I thought it was a bust as a gift, but when she finally got to it, she absolutely loved it. I asked her to bring it when she came up a couple of weeks ago, and I too loved it, couldn't put it down. It's suspense, intrigue, with a couple of gory scenes, but it's so well done, so well written--and the characters are amazing. Because I read the book trade publications, I keep thinking everyone knows the story but apparently not. Swedish author and magazine editor Stieg Larsson turned in three novel manuscripts and then died of a massive heart attack at a young age and before the novels were published. I am now reading The Girl Who Played with Fire, the second one. I can't remember the exact title of the third (The Girl Who . . . Hornet's Nest). The first is definitely set in Sweden, and I imagine the others are too though the second opens in the Caribbean. After publication in Swedish, they were translated into English. I recommend them heartily. You get lost in the fictional world (the best kind of reading), but it's also a little like reading To Kill a Mockingbird or The Angle of Repose. I know I'll never write anything that good--but I can read and enjoy.