Monthly Archives: November 2008

a father’s words
a daughter’s pictures

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After the death of her father, Melissa Volker discovered some uncanny similarities between her photos and the poems in a collected, unpublished work of his.

As a tribute and a tether, she brings them together here — a poignant sharing meaningful to parents, children, those who have lost, those who love.

Word and pictures. Together a common vision.

The above is the description of my daughter’s book, which she is publishing online through Blurb.com.
The title of this book of her dad’s poetry and her photos is the title he gave his collections of poems: “Seeworld: visions from the wonderground,” and you can get a preview of it here.
The poems are as much for children as for adults. They are filled with unique images that reflect the simple wonders of nature. The photographs visually capture that simplicity and that wonder, adding to the delight of the poems themselves.
“Seeworld” would make a great holiday gift for any family that treasures the special relationship that a daughter can have with her father.
(Of course, this proud mama just can’t resist plugging the publication.)

a father’s words, a…
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neither here nor there

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In my slow fits and starts move to my daughter’s, I usually listen to my NPR station as I make the the two a half hour dirve in a car loaded with bins and boxes. Yesterday, the Writer’s Almanac featured this poem:

Lucky
by Tony Hoagland
If you are lucky in this life,
you will get to help your enemy
the way I got to help my mother
when she was weakened past the point of saying no.
Into the big enamel tub
half-filled with water
which I had made just right,
I lowered the childish skeleton
she had become.
Her eyelids fluttered as I soaped and rinsed
her belly and her chest,
the sorry ruin of her flanks
and the frayed gray cloud
between her legs.
Some nights, sitting by her bed
book open in my lap
while I listened to the air
move thickly in and out of her dark lungs,
my mind filled up with praise
as lush as music,
amazed at the symmetry and luck
that would offer me the chance to pay
my heavy debt of punishment and love
with love and punishment.
And once I held her dripping wet
in the uncomfortable air
between the wheelchair and the tub,
and she begged me like a child
to stop,
an act of cruelty which we both understood
was the ancient irresistible rejoicing
of power over weakness.
If you are lucky in this life,
you will get to raise the spoon
of pristine, frosty ice cream
to the trusting creature mouth
of your old enemy
because the tastebuds at least are not broken
because there is a bond between you
and sweet is sweet in any language.


The peom really got to me — maybe got to my guilt because that’s not how I feel about my mother, who, with moderate dementia and more aches and pains than one would think possible, is 92 and as demanding as a spoiled toddler with a cold. There is no sitting by her bedside reading a book. She still feeds herself, although more and more often she doesn’t like what I cook for her.
As I sit here at my daughter’s computer, I worry about how she is doing with only my brother to care for her while I’m gone. She panics if she is left alone — or even if she can’t see you (even though you are in the same room). I will be back there again for a few days, and then after a few days, I will cart more of my belongings out here until all that are left of my life with her are my cat and my plants and my computer. They will fill up my car on my final out to my new life..
As my mom gets adjusted to someone new to help with her care I guess I will have to be both here and there for a while. Love and punishment. Neither here nor there.

Is he black?

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My 92 year old mother is up late since I am watching the election returns. Obama has won and is about to speak.
“Look, Mom,”I say. “That’s the new president of our country.”
I’m never sure she hears me and/or understands. But this time she looks hard at the television screen, taking in the crowds, the shouting, the man.
“Is he black?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer, explaining (now that she seems to be paying attention) that his mother was white and his father was black, and he is now the president of the United States.
She continues to look intently at the television screen as Obama begins his acceptance speech.
“Can you make it louder?” she asks and moves to a chair nearer the tv, where she sits and listens and watches until he’s done.
I’m not sure what it all meant to her, but I sure know what it all means to me. We have a truly democratic leader as president.
On my daughter’s blog, she reflects on her feelings about the election and tells of how this election has been a unique “teachable moment” for my grandson:

This morning I explained to my son why this is so historical. Why it’s a big deal that an African American could be President. To do so, I had to introduce slavery as part of our history (mind you, he’s only 6 and in first grade)…he askes SO many questions. “Why did men take them from their homes?” “What do you mean, can you explain more about how they were treated badly?”

And as I explained the best I could in appropriate terms for a 6 year old, but also without sugar-coating the truth, I saw tears fought back in his eyes. Our SIX YEAR OLD felt the injustice those men and women must have felt. Our child felt the horror and sadness of it. “Just because of the color of their skin?!”

He was aghast and stymied. Disgusted and outraged.

The only way I could make him feel better was to assure him that in the end, other men felt the way he just did. Which led to teaching him a bit about the civil war, Abe Lincoln and Harriet Tubman. It helped a bit, but there was no totally shaking him from the sadness he felt to learn how human beings had been treated.

I told him I was proud that he cared. Proud that it mattered to him. And that in the end, that is why it was historical today.

Don’t tell me kids can’t get it. And don’t tell me a kid can’t help direct his learning. Homeschooling rocks!

And my son b!X parties in Portland, missing his Dad, who would have been overcome with joy at the reality of President Obama.
Yes, mom. He’s black and he’s our president.

the digital family

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family.jpg
As I walk out of their little “office,” where I had been using their desktop to do some late-night catching up on the Scramble games that I play with my friend in Saratoga, I come upon my daughter and son-in-law engrossed in their laptops. He’s checking up on the latest presidential campaign issues, and she’s going through her photos to find images that match the series of nature-based poems her father wrote. The television remotes lay on the couch where they were tossed. The only sound is the rustling of pages and the tapping of keyboards.
It’s a telling scene for me. We have, as a family, embraced this technology for all that it offers our hungry minds. We are constant learners, thoughtful and curious. The Internet is our classroom.
And it is becoming so for my grandson, who is being home-schooled. He not only has his own XO Laptop; with his mom’s help, he uses their desktop to look for and print out images for learning projects, such as identifying animals and their habitats. The world map that hangs from the mantle in their living room is a constant source of questions on his part that he knows have answers somewhere in the great net-out-there.
At the moment, I am without a laptop, and I find it a great inconvenience. My old one has a major problem with the port the power cord goes into so that the machine turns off as soon as it is turned on. Now it doesn’t even start because I fiddled with it once too often.
I also recently caused the crash of the brand new laptop that I inherited from my once-husband. I guess I got too impatient with Vista, and I am convinced I want to stay as far away from that OS as I can. My plans are to have Vista uninstalled and have a different operating system put in. I’m even thinking about Linux.
It’s interesting how quickly we have all adapted to this technology. I’m planning to have my laptop repaired before I move into my digs at my daughter’s and son-in-law’s, where wifi rules.

What? Me biased?

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For the last year and a half, a team of psychology professors has been conducting remarkable experiments on how Americans view Barack Obama through the prism of race.

That’s the first line of an article in the New York Times that links to online tests that you can take to assess your attitudes about race and skin color, particularly in relation to the presidential race between McCain and Obama.
The article goes on to say:

A flood of recent research has shown that most Americans, including Latinos and Asian-Americans, associate the idea of “American” with white skin. One study found that although people realize that Lucy Liu is American and that Kate Winslet is British, their minds automatically process an Asian face as foreign and a white face as American — hence this title in an academic journal: “Is Kate Winslet More American Than Lucy Liu?”

After you read the article, you might want to test yourself here or here.
I took one of the tests on the first link above. The results said that I prefer black people to white people and that I prefer McCain over Obama. I am positive that neither statement about me is true. And the two results are conflicting anyway. So, I’m skeptical about that series of tests, but I plan to try out the rest of them anyway.
The second test is a whole other approach, and I think I’m just not quick enough to connect what I’m seeing with the right key.
Nevertheless, I’m going to go back to both sites and try more of the tests. As the Times article states:

….with race an undercurrent in the national debate, that also makes this a teachable moment. Partly that’s because of new findings both in neurology, using brain scans to understand how we respond to people of different races, and social psychology, examining the gulf between our conscious ideals of equality and our unconscious proclivity to discriminate.

Incidentally, such discrimination is not only racial. We also have unconscious biases against the elderly and against women seeking powerful positions — biases that affect the Republican ticket.

As the article goes on to explain, our attitudes and biases probably are formed by some combination of “nature” and “nurture.” Understanding that can, indeed, make this a very “teachable moment” for a great many Americans.
While I don’t have a bias against McCain’s age or against Obama’s race, I admit that I do have a bias. And it’s in favor of a liberal policy agenda. Whoever has that has my vote.