skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Sophie on the upper deck of the Staten Island Ferry. The boat is a Coast Guard vessel, one of two that escorted the SIF back and forth. A machine gun is mounted in the bow manned by a member of the Coast Guard. I'm posting this because, for me, it's a disconcerting image--the 4 year old . . . . machine gun ("What's that, Grammie?" she innocently asked.) . . . the Statue of Liberty.What do you think? Before boarding the ferry we had visited the marvelous National Museum of American Indians & seen a moving performance piece, "Keeping the Fire in the Dark Moon Times," infused with the oral tradition, dance and music of the home regions of five performers--Ani Lokomaikai Lipscomb, Hawaiian; Debra Dommek, Inupiaq; Stephen Blanchett, Central Yup'ik; Candida Rose, Cape Verdean; and Jonathan Perry, Wampanoag. According to the program, the piece honors ancestral stories and the diverse symbolism of the moon, its cycles and the many meanings of harvest.We ended our Sophie/Grammie-Day by attending New York Philharmonic's rehearsal for the "Very Young People's Concert." Very cool, although Sophie noted that the narrator of a kids' story told to the music of Ravel mispronounced narwhal (she put an "e" on the end.) "That's what rehearsal are for," I whispered back. We had to leave before the storyteller finished. But we talked to a staff person before we left. "I wondered about that," she said. Then repeated (correctly): "Narwhal, narwhal, narwhal!" Sophie and I smiled!
This weekend we gathered in the Catskill at a house Steve and Sarah are renting as a writing retreat to celebrate Steve's & David's birthday. So serene! Amazingly quiet. Pristine snow. Clear dark night sky perfect for identifying constellations-- Sophie knew to look for the Big and Little Dipper; Orion; Pegasus; "the queen," Casseopia; and the Milky Way because of a wonderful nonfiction book for kids her "Auntie" Jan Kristo sent for her birthday in December (Tomorrow's a Sophie-day & I'll check the title when I pick her up.)
With March and National Women's History Month arriving on Saturday, I am preparing PowerPoint presentations & speeches for five engagements (listed on my web site). As always, one of my themes is women's history is everywhere & sure enough there it was in a remote memorial park to John Burroughs, the great naturalist who was raised in Roxbury, the closest town to where we were staying. Steve drove us there to see the photographs on the 3-sided display. The close-up is a photograph of a mule trip down Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon in 1909. On the mules, from bottom to top are: Dr. Clara Barrus, Harriet Ashley, John Burroughs, Olga Brant, John Muir. Do I know who the women are? Not yet because I've been immersed in Stirring Up The World & teaching, but ASAP I'll find out & post the information. Of course, if any of you know--please post an entry.
Continuing with this theme, on Monday I walked from 7th Ave to 5th Avenue along 34th street & Macy's Department Store and noted that a series of windows displays featured posters, art work, & information about Josephine Baker (1906-1975) US born, naturalized-French singer, dancer. movie star, social activist.
At about 6 a.m., I awoke to the sound of a neighbor's snow shovel. The weather predictions were correct! About 6 inches of snow & still falling & the bird feeders were empty. I put on my boots, grabbed a raincoat to wear over my nightgown and headed out to fill the feeders. The snowdrops, of course, were buried. The birds--cardinals, juncos, mourning doves, nut hatches, sparrows--had a feast.
My mother and snowdrops are inextricably joined in my heart and mind because one of my earliest childhood memories is the arrival of February in our snowy part of the country and my mother digging in the snow--oftentimes with her bare hands--looking for snowdrops.
"Spring," she'd tell me. "I'm looking for Spring."
This crazy-winter-weather year confused the snowdrops in my yard into appearing in November. Of course, I was glad to see them, but they were out-of-sync with my memories. So, today--in February--I was thrilled to see them back again.
Linda just appeared (from her office on the second floor down the stairs to mine in the basement) and asked me if I knew the definition of "secular." Of course, I did, and so did she, as in not being religious. What sent her down the stairs was how the word was used in an article she was reading for her class tomorrow about the prevalence of autism in which the author made a statement about the "secular increase of the prevalence of autism." Hummm, that use puzzled me too. While she checked my several dictionaries, I checked the Internet. Between us we found the meaning the author--who is Canadian--was using: "of or relating to a long term of indefinite duration." So, interesting!!!!
Unannounced the second pass pages for Thanksgiving: The True Story showed up on my doorstep Friday morning. (I found it when I went out to get the newspaper, so it may have been there since Thursday.) I stopped my plans for the day and scrutinized the manuscript so that I could return it before the day was over. I discovered this sentence had slipped by everyone who, to date, had proof read & copy edited the manuscript: "In late August 1565, ships carrying Menendez and hundreds of soldiers landed on the coast of Florida, and marched with trumpets blaring and banners flying into a Timucuan Indian village."
"Oh, no!!!" I exclaimed as the image of marching ships paraded in front of my eyes!!! Immediately I sent the editor an e-mail and corrected the sentence on the manuscript. As long as I've been a writer, it never ceases to amaze me how tricky it is to catch everything! So, what would I have done if it had slipped through into the printed book? Been embarrassed, recognize that readers would not necessarily noticed it, use it as an example when I teach/speak.
Next day update: At about 1:30 pm, 2/11, I received an e-mail from the assistant editor double-checking my change to what I will probably always think of as the "marching ship" sentence. Since at this stage, I had to make the least disruptive correction, I simply deleted "ships carrying" and changed "landed" to "arrived;" so now the sentence reads: "In late August 1565, Menendez and hundreds of soldiers arrived on the coast of Florida and marched with trumpets blaring and banners flying into a Timucuan Indian village." Oh, and if you're wondering what all this has to do with the true story of Thanksgiving; Menendez is involved in one of the 12 claims for the "first" Thanksgiving that I explore in my book Thanksgiving: The True Story.
I've moved forward writing Stirring Up The World and I'm really happy with what I've produced so far; it's such an intriguing story, especially with the race for the Democratic presidential nomination going on.
We had Sophie for an overnight. We rode a double-decker merry-go-round, etc. We also "talked" politics; from listening to all the political conversations swirling around she's concluded that "girls are for the girl and boys are for the boy."
Although it may seem that way, I told her, in our family some "girls" are for the "boy" and some "boys" are for the "girl."
