Sunday, October 7, 2007

SEPTEMBER BOOKS PART III

I decided that my final September book deserves its own post too, and I am getting up on my soapbox to discuss it. Our book club selection for September, it was written by North Dakota's junior senator, Byron Dorgan. I don't think I have ever gotten political in this blog, but there's a time for everything.

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" Take This Job And Ship It" should be read by every single American man and woman. It's that powerful. I don't know that I have ever said about a book that it changed my life, but this one already has and will continue to do so.


After reading this book, I finally understand why a senator from my state was against NAFTA, the North American Free Trade Agreement. Americans may have free trade, Dorgan says, but he insists that we don't have FAIR trade. I learned so much about our huge trade deficit (it increases by $2 billion a day), about companies taking good jobs from Americans and outsourcing them to other countries, about corporations so greedy that they locate subsidiaries in countries where they find tax shelters. Did you know that such venerable American companies as Fruit of the Loom, Fig Newton and Radio Flyer have gone overseas? Did you know that we lost three million jobs in five years?
I understand why Dorgan is anti pharmaceutical industry and pro-union. and why he praises the economic theories of Warren Buffet. But most of all, I understand that the baddest of all the bad big box stores is Wal Mart. Here's where I step on that soap box.
I will never shop at a Wal Mart again. My friend Jude kept trying to tell us book club members about Wal Mart, but I never got her point. I get it now. Wal Mart is so large and powerful that it can force manufacturers to lower their prices. Because of this, they take their manufacturing plants to places like Mexico or China, where they can find cheap labor.
Wal Mart, in turn, acts like it's doing Americans a favor by offering them low-priced goods. My friends, Wal Mart is doing you no favor. It has taken good, solid, well-paying jobs out of your communities. One example Dorgan used is that of the closing of a certain American plant. On the last day, each worker left a pair of his or her shoes in the parking lot. Their message: "You will never be able to fill our shoes."
Although unions may have shady pasts, they built America. They got us fair wages and safe working conditions (remember the young girls in the woolen mills on the Eastern Seaboard in the 1800s?). Workers at a Canadian Wal Mart tried to form a union, and Wal Mart shut down the entire store.
Wal Mart has led to the deaths of Main Street businesses as well. A very good example is Williston, North Dakota. When Wal Mart opened at the edge of town it was the death knell for Williston's downtown. First the Woolworth's went, then Ben Franklin. Pretty soon, people couldn't seem to find a reason to go downtown anymore. The cafes closed, then other businesses. There is a definite ripple effect when a Wal Mart comes to town.
As well, Wal Mart is offering you goods made in sweat shops, hellholes that work people - children even - literally to death, for just pennies a day. Low-income people look to Wal Mart as their savior. But, says Dorgan, picture this: A woman is standing in line with her two daughters, proud that she can afford to buy her girls the colorful t-shirts she has in her hands. But what if someone came up and grabbed her daughters and put them to work at a slave-labor factory, starving and mistreating them? No, it's not her daughters being forced to do that, but it's some woman's daughters.
Wal Mart is ruining our standard of living, destroying American prosperity and dooming the American working middle class. Soon we will all be either rich or poor. And I know I won't be one of the rich.
As I said, this book has changed my life. I will try to look for the Made in America label, although it will be difficult to find. I buy a lot of clothes at resale already so at least I won't be directly contributing to the demise of American clothing manufacturers.
If I can afford an item only at the Wal Mart price, I'll wait until I have the extra dollars to buy it somewhere else, or do without it entirely.
If I need a pretty trinket, I don't have to buy something new made in China. I can always go to a thrift shop, flea market or antique shop, knowing that what I purchase was either made in America or that I, again, did not contribute directly to a company's death.
I note, sadly, that although Dorgan's book was a New York Times bestseller, it hasn't made much of an impact. I know for certain we will end up with a Democratic Congress after the next election. Hopefully, Dorgan can then do something about those "brain dead politics." At the end of the book, he offers specific solutions to each of the problems he outlines in the book.
I am proud of Senator Dorgan for taking up the challenge of writing this book that needed to be written. He is one elected representative who gives a damn.
By the way, I am also proud of our other North Dakota Congressmen. Our senior senator, Kent Conrad (below) was named by Time Magazine as one of the 10 best senators. Not bad for a sparsely-populated, backward state, eh?


And our lone representative to Congress, Earl Pomery (below), made news a couple of months ago when caught on video phone calling President Bush a "clown". Yes, I'm proud of that. Bush is a clown. Let's not beat around the Bush about. He is an embarrassment to our country, an incompetent, bumbling fool, and much worse, a danger to our country.

North Dakota, a redder-than-red Republican state, consistently re-elects these Democrats. They must be proud of them too.

Well now you know my political leanings, for better or worse. It's time for me to get off my soapbox. It's not a comfortable place for this girl to be. But sometimes a girl's just gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

SEPTEMBER BOOKS, PART II

I ranted so much about one book in my previous post that I though I had better open a new post for the rest of the books I read in September.

I walked into Barnes and Noble one day recently to find an entire display devoted to the book shown above, by Sarah Addison Allen. They are promoting highly and have it on sale for a low price (as hardcovers go). I remember seeing it and liking the description in my One Spirit book club offerings, and the price was certainly right, so I bought it. It's about the Waverly sisters who have peculiar gifts that make them outsiders in their hometown. Even the apple tree in the backyard behaves strangely. This book reminded me a lot of Alice Hoffman's "Practical Magic" book and movie with Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock. If you loved "Practical Magic" you'll love "Garden Spells." I did.

I have said before that I plan to read or re-read at least one classic a month. This month, I re-read "The Good Earth" by Pearl S. Buck. In this time in my life, when I am trying to re-build my connection with Mother Earth, it is good to read a book about a man so completely tied to the land and so dependent upon it.

Another book I loved this month was "The Observations" by Jane Harris. Set in Scotland in the 1800s, it tells the story of Bessy Buckley, an Irish maid who goes to work at a grand country house for Arabella Reid, a wealthy Scotswoman, and her husband. Bessy discovers that Arabella is writing a book of observations about her and the other servant girls who preceded her. Incensed, Bessy plays a trick on Arabella, and all hell ensues. I loved this book so much because it is written in the voice of Bessy, an earthy, unintentionally humorous, sharply observant, very likable girl. Without Bessy, it would have been a quite ordinary mystery story about what happened to the servant girl before Bessy. Thanks Barb N. and Judy for recommending it.

I started out liking "The Wonder Spot" by Melissa Banks. I had enjoyed her "Girls Guide to Hunting and Fishing" and enjoyed the first chapter, in which our heroine attends her cousin's bat mitzvah. But the ensuing chapters turn out to be about her relationships with the various men who wander in and out of her life. I became as irritated with her as did her Jewish relatives who wondered why she didn't stay with the nice Jewish doctor. His only fault seemed to be that he name dropped the names of famous patients. At the end, our heroine has found a great guy younger than herself. But will he be the last? I doubt it.

SEPTEMBER BOOKS, PART I

I bought this book because it is set in (fictional) Buffalo Valley, North Dakota. "Like so many Midwest towns, it's dying. Stores are boarded up, sidewalks cracked, houses need a coat of paint. But despite all that, there's a spirit of hope here, of defiance. The people still living in Buffalo Valley are fighting for their town."

That sounds like so many North Dakota towns. In fact, I have never gone back to northwestern North Dakota after the last of my relatives died. It's just too depressing for me to see a thriving town like Crosby with closed storefronts, the high school at Columbus, which I attended, torn down and little villages like my Larson slowly being taken over by the prairie from which they sprang.

One of the things the people in Buffalo Valley are fighting for is to keep their school open. They need a new teacher, and they find her in the person of Lindsay Snyder, who has North Dakota roots. There's where the story veers off the reality path and goes right over the cliff. The people of the town are looking for one teacher - the SOLE teacher, for their high school. One teacher, expert in teaching all the subjects of a modern high school, in a one-room school. Yeah, right.

Shame on you, Debbie Macomber, since you supposedly have North Dakota roots too. Our state is already seen as backward. You didn't have to contribute to that image. To anyone who has read this book already, know that North Dakota high schools are consolidated when one or more in the district are forced to close. North Dakota students still receive good educations from teachers trained in specific fields like chemistry, history, English and math.

Yes, there were one-room schools in North Dakota. I went to one, which I will write about sometime. And I think there are a few still out there. But there were never one-room high schools. It's a shame Macomber couldn't have written a book closer to the truth of the North Dakota out migration problem. She is apparently a popular author in the mass market paperback trade.

Saturday, October 6, 2007

PIXIES, ELVES, BROWNIES AND SPRITES

The Pixie sez to the Jack O'Lantern...
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"Beware of a witch and a black hoodo
For they are a-coming to
capture you
If you cross your fingers
and count thirteen
They won't touch you on
Hallowe'en"
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I mentioned in the previous post that the Irish, along with the Scots, brought Halloween to America. Irish legends of pixies, brownies, elves and sprites found their way into early 20th century postcards. Here are some examples. Enjoy!


What are those elves brewing up?

Dueling Brownies
And some Irish turnip Jack O'Lanterns!


"There are elves and
black cats all about
Pip! Pip!
You'd better look out!"



But they seem pretty friendly!


These brownies don't look very scary to me!

THE HISTORY OF THE JACK O'LANTERN

Did you know that the Scots and the Irish brought Halloween to America? As a person who is half Celtic (1/4 Scottish, 1/4 Irish), that make me proud indeed. And it was the Irish who introduced Halloween's most enduring symbol - the Jack O'Lantern.

History of the Jack O'Lantern
(copied from www.pumpkinnook.com)

The Irish brought the tradition of the Jack O'Lantern to America. But, the original Jack O'Lantern was not a pumpkin.The Jack O'Lantern legend goes back hundreds of years in Irish History. As the story goes, Stingy Jack was a miserable, old drunk who liked to play tricks on everyone: family, friends, his mother and even the Devil himself. One day, he tricked the Devil into climbing up an apple tree. Once the Devil climbed up the apple tree, Stingy Jack hurriedly placed crosses around the trunk of the tree. The Devil was then unable to get down the tree. Stingy Jack made the Devil promise him not to take his soul when he died. Once the devil promised not to take his soul, Stingy Jack removed the crosses and let the Devil down.
Many years later, when Jack finally died, he went to the pearly gates of Heaven and was told by Saint Peter that he was too mean and too cruel and had led a miserable and worthless life on earth. He was not allowed to enter heaven. He then went down to Hell and the Devil. The Devil kept his promise and would not allow him to enter Hell. Now Jack was scared and had nowhere to go but to wander about forever in the darkness between heaven and hell. He asked the Devil how he could leave as there was no light. The Devil tossed him an ember from the flames of Hell to help him light his way. Jack placed the ember in a hollowed out Turnip, one of his favorite foods which he always carried around with him whenever he could steal one. For that day onward, Stingy Jack roamed the earth without a resting place, lighting his way as he went with his "Jack O'Lantern".
On all Hallow's eve, the Irish hollowed out Turnips, rutabagas, gourds, potatoes and beets. They placed a light in them to ward off evil spirits and keep Stingy Jack away. These were the original Jack O'Lanterns. In the 1800's a couple of waves of Irish immigrants came to America. The Irish immigrants quickly discovered that Pumpkins were bigger and easier to carve out. So they used pumpkins for Jack O'Lanterns.
Below: a turnip JOL


Below: 19th Century Americans find that pumpkins
make better Jack O'Lanterns than does a turnip.


"THE PUMPKIN"
Oh! - fruit loved of boyhood! - the old days recalling
when wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling!
When wild ugly faces we carved in its skin
Glaring out through the dark with a candle within
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John Greenleaf Whittier, 1850.

CANADIAN THANKSGIVING

Happy Thanksgiving to my friends across the border!

I think the Canadians were wise to set their Thanksgiving in October. When going "over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house," you don't have to worry about icy roads and blizzards. Mums and asters are still in bloom in your yards. You don't have a ton of snow covering your wheat sheaves, wreaths and other outdoor decorations. Your pumpkins aren't frozen to your front steps!

Plus, Canadian Thanksgiving is closer to harvest, which is of course the original reason for Thanksgiving (nope, it's not pigskins and pigging out).

Canadians were wise, as well, to set Thanksgiving on a Monday. I, who have seldom had a Thanksgiving Friday off, hate to go back to work that day, knowing that a lot of people don't have to. Having Thanksgiving in October means it can be treasured as its own special day, instead of being just the kickoff to the Christmas season. American Thanksgiving gets lost nowadays. I even have couple of friends who put up their Christmas trees and decorations in the middle of November. What a shame, when there are so many gorgeous autumn decorations, both natural and man made.

I want to send special wishes to my Canadian blogging friends - Sheila, Nature Girl, Tea and Pea. Also to any other "Canucks" who might be reading! I hope you have a lovely long weekend and a blessed Thanksgiving on Monday.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

NATIONAL POETRY DAY

I've noticed that several blogs are celebrating National Poetry Day today. When I googled the subject, I found that almost all the sites originated in the UK, so I'm wondering if it is National Poetry Day there only. No matter . . . I'll just help the Brits celebrate their day with a poem by a beloved American poet.

Since the late Daisy Lupin started her Poetry Fest in June, I have been publishing several poems a month. I followed the themes she chose for June, July and August, and chose my own for September. The subject for September was fall, and I think I'll continue with that theme in October, and add Halloween poems as well. Usually when I post poems, I choose one of my favorite poems first and then add the illustration. This time it was the other way around. I actually found the painting first and then found the poem to go with it.

Did my unconscious mind associate maple leaves and a lady in a pretty scarf with Emily Dickinson's poem???

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The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

- Emily Dickinson, Nature 27 - Autumn

Monday, October 1, 2007

I REMEMBER MAMA

MYRTLE OPAL MUNRO

It will be 20 years ago this fall that my mom died, but I don't want to remember that terrible November day in 1987. Instead, I want to look back at her life today, October 1st, the day that would have been her 86th birthday.

I love this photo of Mom in her early 20s. Myrtle Opal Munro was a pretty, slim young girl with her whole life ahead of her. She looks so poised and confident to me. Unfortunately, my mom had a lot of hard knocks that robbed her of much of her outer beauty, but left her inner beauty intact.

Mom was teased from an early age about her name: "Myrtle the Turtle, wears a tight girdle." I tried to tell her she had a proud name, with a brilliant fiery gemstone for her middle name and a noble plant for her first name. (In addition to crowns of laurel, champions were also given crowns of myrtle.)

Not long after this photo was taken, Mom had to have a cyst removed from her face, and was left with a scar along her jawline. Although it was about four inches long, it was very faint in my mind. But she thought it ruined her face. I think that was the beginning of her losing her confidence and self-assuredness. It didn't help, either, that although she was the first in her family to attend college, she had to cut short her studies and return home.

The worst was yet to come, though, and that was me. At age 27, she discovered she was pregnant by her boyfriend, Sonny. (I only learned about him two years ago - she never spoke his name to me.) When she told him she was going to have his child, he said goodbye and was never a part of our lives again. My mom went to the Florence Crittendon Home in Fargo to await my birth.

Either before or shortly after I was born, my mom made the momentous decision to keep me. This did not happen very often with Florence Crittendon girls, who were usually forced to give up their babies. But my grandma, aunts and uncles had agreed that they would welcome me into their home. It was an extremely courageous act for my mother to bring me back to Crosby, back to the small-minded, small-town gossips. (When she was angry with me she would say, "I didn't have to keep you, you know.")

When I was four, she married my stepfather and they moved to the village of Larson. Within a few years, she had three other children. Was it having a tiny house overrun by four rambunctious kids? Was it being trapped in a village and not knowing how to drive? Was it the lack of outside support? Was it having a spirit-killing husband?

Whatever the reason, it soon proved clear that my mom could not cope. She couldn't keep up the house; she couldn't keep up her personal appearance. I hate to admit it, but I was ashamed to bring friends over to my house. Her food was tasty, but it always looked "smooshed up" and her fresh bread was coarse and full of holes. How petty those complaints of mine seem now.

She had few friends, most of them being the sanctimonious "church lady" types who secretly looked down their noses at my mom. My stepfather never bought her a single present for her birthday or at Christmas. If she wanted a box to open at Christmas, she had to buy herself a robe and wrap it. As adult, I was able to give her a measure of happiness by sending her fresh autumn flowers on her birthdays. She dabbled in art, and I would send her art supplies, but her work was primitive and messy. I wish she could have had art lessons or any other kind of outlet for her creativity.

My mom was, I think, just too fragile for this world. She eventually had a total "nervous breakdown", which is what they still called it in the 1970s. I never learned what the actual diagnosis was. She eventually got better, but she was never completely cured. When my brother, John, was killed in a car accident at age 25, it just about killed her too.

For all my mom's shortcomings, she was a beautiful person. She was a warm-hearted lady who loved nature. She was the one who taught me to appreciate flowers and birds and North Dakota sunsets, which she always said were "the most beautiful in the world."

She was wonderful to her mother, my Grandma Julia. My Aunt Mary, on the other hand, sneered at my mom, and she was mean to Gram. Mom was a great letter writer, corresponding faithfully with her old friends and her female cousins. She wrote me lots of letters too. I wish I had written back more, or called more often. Mom never asked for much, and she never had much, but she always gave abundantly of what she had.

One of my Mom's favorite poems was called "High Flight." The poem describes a pilot's ecstasy while flying. One line of the poem describes "the surly bonds of earth." I think the world was, in many ways, a surly place for my mom. On November 18, 1987, Myrtle Opal Munro Johnson "slipped the surly bonds of earth, and touched the face of God." I like to think my mom is now basking in the glow of God's love for his beautiful Myrtle Opal. Happy Birthday, Mom.

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MYRTLE MUNRO JOHNSON, JULY 1986

AN AUTUMN WINNER

I received some great news today, as well as some not so great news. I also have some good news to announce. I'll start with the announcement first. The winner of the drawing for my Autumn giftaway is . . . Autumn at "Autumn's Meadow"! How appropriate is that!! Autumn, please email me your address so I can get that package mailed right away.

The great news I received is that my dear daughter has been given a fantastic promotion at work. She is now the Acting Director of Serials at the university library where she works. She gets a super raise along with the title. Hurray for Kristen! She called with the news this morning and I pictured her as the new "director of cereals". LOL!

The not-so-good news is that I have been having tingling and numbness in my left hand, and today the doctor confirmed one of my worst fears: he thinks it is probably carpal tunnel syndrome. This could have serious economic impact for me, since I am at the computer all day long at work. And of course, blogging doesn't help. Fortunately, I sought treatment right away. He is starting me off with a splint, and hopefully that will do the trick.

I had so many October and Halloween posts planned that I was going to make you cry for a ban on orange and black and beg for mercy for me to stop! Halloween is my favorite holiday other than Christmas and I go all out for it.

I plan to write one more post tonight and then make my rounds of your blogs. After that, I plan to take a week-long break from blogging and see if that helps my hand. Other than that, I don't know what else to do, except do posts with a lot of pictures and not many words. Of course, I'll still be reading your blogs - like downloading photos, that only needs a click with my good right hand. Please understand when I do not comment.

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Saturday, September 29, 2007

MICHAELMAS DAY

Today is Michaelmas, or St. Michaelmas Day. This holiday isn't celebrated in the United States to my knowledge, but it is observed in England.

We do, however, have Michaelmas Daisies in the U.S. These late-blooming purple flowers are a welcome addition to the fall garden. They get their name because they are usually blooming profusely on Michaelmas Day.

Since I don't celebrate the holiday, I'm going to let an Englishwoman take over. Please check out Leanne's wonderful post today at "Somerset Seasons". To see history, lore, quotations and poetry surrounding Michaelmas Day, just click here: www.somersetseasons.blogspot.com