Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution

I was surprised by how much I liked this show. I guess it follows in line with my frustration with our school lunch program. It does seem like, despite my angst, that our school district is doing a bit better than the one that Jamie was dealing with. If you have a bit of time, watch the 6 episodes of Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution and be inspired.

Bright Star -- a poetic movie

Bright Star (2009)

In honor of poetry month, I had to make a point of watching Bright Star, a film about the relationship between 19th Century poet John Keats and Fanny Brawne. Lord, this was depressing. It was a beautiful movie and it got me digging into their stories after I watched the film, but ultimately I wasn't blown away or quick to recommend it to others.

The Parent Problem in Young Adult Literature

I just read an interesting article on YA Literature by Julie Just in the New York Times. It examines the role of parents as either dead, absent, demonized, or so bland they fade into the background. It's something I've thought of with books for younger readers like The Boxcar Children and the Series of Unfortunate Events and the like. It does seem like there are an awful lot of orphan books out there. Which reminded me of how years ago when playing with my friends' daughter Hope, she informed me that we were sisters and our parents were dead. I was horrified. Then I remembered a version of "playing house" that my brother and I played on the farm. We pretended our parents were dead and that he was my older brother (though he is actually three years younger) and he was a carpenter named Tommy. I was a bossy sister who crafted the scenario and his persona as well as my own. So, yes, maybe there is something developmental about the idea of children wanting independence...

One of the most profound gems in the article is as follows:
Many contemporary young adult novels seem to reflect genuine confusion over what the job of parent consists of, beyond keeping kids fed and safe. This isn’t surprising, after a decade in which “overparenting” became almost a badge of honor and you could sign a child up for a clay-modeling class only to find that you, too, were expected to stay and make coil pots. The Mommy & Me trend helps explain the baffling numbers from a report, published in 2006, that found working mothers were managing to spend about the same amount of time per week with their children as stay-at-home mothers did 40 years ago. In those days they said “Go play” rather than “Go away,” but the comparison surely says something about the expectations of both groups.

When I think about my own childhood and how I was raised in the 70s and 80s, I would concur. The thought of my mother accompanying us to the swimming pool or the neighborhood park or outside to play is literally absurd. I understand why that has changed with the times, but I wonder if it's always for the better.

UPDATE --
Liz Burns from A Chair, A Fireplace & a Tea Cozy addresses Just's article here. All very interesting stuff.

A Poem

Here's a draft of a poem I wrote tonight as I drove home from my sister's new place. She's moving into her first house--renting it with three other girls.

No title yet. It's a first draft. It's sort of scary to post something in its rough form. Enough apologies. I'll try to do more of this to truly celebrate poetry month.


Driving home in the rain
I heard Bob Seger
singing Against the Wind.
and for about five minutes
I could have been 16
on a side street in my hometown
turning corners
past sleep-darkened houses.
Me and the night.
Those were different days when
gas was practically free,
and I had nothing but time.

And life is sweet now, mostly
and my problems, if I have any at all,
are the big sort,
the I-can't-solve-this-on-my-own sort,
the it-takes-a-village sort.
Yet, this song stirs something--
A memory wound up tight,
spooling out more feeling than fact.

How many nights did I shut the car door
turn up the radio and drive nowhere at all?
A sweet release.
A small sanctuary from the world.
To think, to be.
Free.

Poets, Start Your Pencils...