In our small circle, my wife and I are the Lennon & McCartney of almond pound cakes, that is, we both bake them, we both share them with mutual and different acquaintances, and we kind of share the credit, sometimes taking it if the other has baked it (throughout their career as Beatles, John and Paul agreed under contract to share the credit of each of their songs, no matter how involved the other might have been in its composition; that is why we see both their names associated with the almost exclusively Paul "Yesterday" and the almost exclusively John "A Day in the Life"). We bake a lot of almond pound cakes. One Christmas season not so long ago, we baked almost thirty within a one-week range of time. We began giving them to people as a show of good feeling, and, as we have grown to know more people, the list expands. There have been a couple of years where we have fallen off production, such as the 2012 let's-make-sure-Alan-doesn't-relapse-into-the-Thanksgiving-pneumonia period, but the production has been fairly consistent over time.
We use a recipe that we found in the Southern Living Annual 1990 Cookbook, with some variations. I am happy to share the recipe, by the way, but I would prefer not to post it here and incur the wrath of Time-Warner Communications. Let's just say that it is a rich recipe, calling for five eggs, three cups of sugar, and some obvious, tasty ingredients such as vanilla and almond extracts. In fact, the recipe in the book is for a lemon pound cake, and we adapted it in a successful attempt to replicate a recipe that my mother "followed" when I was a boy. I say "followed" because there lies the difference in how BetterHalf and I approach baking these cakes. When I say that she does not care to watch me do it, I think that I relate the root of the difference.
BetterHalf approaches baking these cakes as a romantic scientist, and I approach baking them as a pragmatic artist. I understand that it looks as if I have my modifiers wrong, but she loves the idea of the recipe. I don't mean to suggest that she is hidebound by it, but she likes to follow it. She likes the process--I don't blame the cooking shows on television for all of this tendency, but when she decides to try a recipe, every ingredient gets measured and placed in its own dish, she follows the order of procedure in the recipe, and that first attempt's success weighs on her careful execution of those descriptions. It's as if she is attempting to replicate a lab experiment, which she is, in a way, and she will tinker with the experiment in subsequent attempts. That first time, though, measures her success in how well she can do what the book says.
I, on the other hand, want the cake, and I tend to cut corners a bit, because I am also one who is concerned about cleaning up while preparing the recipe. So, for example, rather than put the milk, the almond extract, and the vanilla abstract in separate containers, to add them all later, I just put all the liquid ingredients in one measuring cup. Rather than soften butter, I melt it to speed mixing later, and I melt it in the same vessel I will blend in. I see myself as cutting time and work in order to concentrate on getting a tasty cake out of the effort. Did I put in too much vanilla? A drop won't make a difference, and, if I miscounted the eggs and put in an extra one, so be it. That kind of approach drives BetterHalf nuts.
But the cakes always turn out tasty, and I look forward to my diet cheat days when I can eat more than just the slightest taste. However, I imagine that now some cake recipients will want to know who actually put which cake together. Look and see how the almonds are arranged on the top. I discovered a couple of years ago that if I missed a spot in preparing the pan, I could put an almond over the missed spot to help prevent sticking. The side effect was the delicious taste of a roasted almond in a random slice of cake. If you see a cake with almonds clustered at random, that's probably one I put together. BetterHalf will have hers evenly spaced, all the way around.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Monday, April 15, 2013
I Know Someone Who Has Fantasies of Committing Suicide
My background has led to my having relationships with gun fetishists. I am not talking about regular gun owners, the ones who own a pistol for protection and/or rifles for hunting. I am talking about the people who yearn for semi-automatic weapons, who relish their prerogative to own one hundred-round magazines, who pack gun stores every time our president says something about gun control, who, in spite of their having sent their children to public schools and universities, having received treatment in clinics and hospitals subsidized by the government, and having enjoyed the protection of forces ranging from military troops and federal agents to local police, firefighters, and rescue workers, who pay lower fuel prices because of government subsidies and drive on roads built and maintained by that same government, who eat government-subsidized foods, who live and work in companies, factories, and communities of people who also have benefited from these same programs, consider themselves "libertarians." They believe in their hearts that the federal government wants weapons to be registered so that one dark day the government will show up and take their weapons away, so they buy more weapons than they could possibly fire off in an attack and so much ammo that they have serious storage problems. They imagine that someday they will be taking a stand somewhere and will kill off as many of those government troops as they possibly can. If they pursue their fantasy long enough, they imagine that they will die valiantly, their weapons clutched in their cold, dead hands, just as Charlton Heston, the Moses portrayer turned National Rifle Association president, claimed would be necessary to get his guns away from him.
In sum, they dream of committing murder-suicide, except that rather than turning their weapons on themselves, they will be committing suicide by proxy, making it necessary for a marksman to take them down in the midst of their defending their liberty to have the potential to kill people.
Of course, they do not necessarily follow their imagined scenario to its logical conclusion. These folks to a person tell me that mentally ill people should not have access to firearms. But they, unlike the great majority of the members of our American community, are opposed to background checks. They dislike the idea that people who take some medications should be denied access to guns. They hate "big government," and they to a person hate "socialized medicine" (even the ones who are on Social Security, receive disability payments, and get treatment from the Veterans Administration), but they apparently have no idea how people are supposed to afford treating the mentally ill. They do not want mentally ill people to get guns, but they are opposed to every conceivable step one can take to prevent the ill from getting those guns.
These people trouble me. There are so many of them that they appear to be "normal," a significant, vocal portion of the demographic that we have to accept as neighbors, that our elected officials have to court as constituents. They intend to do harm. They feel committed to the idea that, under specific circumstances, they will do harm. They do not intend to live long enough to see the consequences of that harm.
At least we agree that mentally ill people should have restricted access to firearms.
In sum, they dream of committing murder-suicide, except that rather than turning their weapons on themselves, they will be committing suicide by proxy, making it necessary for a marksman to take them down in the midst of their defending their liberty to have the potential to kill people.
Of course, they do not necessarily follow their imagined scenario to its logical conclusion. These folks to a person tell me that mentally ill people should not have access to firearms. But they, unlike the great majority of the members of our American community, are opposed to background checks. They dislike the idea that people who take some medications should be denied access to guns. They hate "big government," and they to a person hate "socialized medicine" (even the ones who are on Social Security, receive disability payments, and get treatment from the Veterans Administration), but they apparently have no idea how people are supposed to afford treating the mentally ill. They do not want mentally ill people to get guns, but they are opposed to every conceivable step one can take to prevent the ill from getting those guns.
These people trouble me. There are so many of them that they appear to be "normal," a significant, vocal portion of the demographic that we have to accept as neighbors, that our elected officials have to court as constituents. They intend to do harm. They feel committed to the idea that, under specific circumstances, they will do harm. They do not intend to live long enough to see the consequences of that harm.
At least we agree that mentally ill people should have restricted access to firearms.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Next Big Thing Blog Hop
“The Next Big Thing” is a blog hop where writers around the world share what they’re working on by responding to the same ten questions. Linda Parsons Marion invited me to participate, and you can read her post on Facebook. I’m tagging Sylvia Woods, Georgia Green Stamper, and Dan Westover for next week.
What is the working title of your book?
I am likely to title it In the Backhoe’s Shadow, which is a line from my poem, “Jones Valley,” first published in Louisiana Literature. In the poem, the speaker notices the gravediggers who wait in the backhoe’s shadow for the mourners to leave a new grave and briefly envies their sense of routine while others suffer such loss.
Where did the idea come from for the book?
This collection of poems comes from my growing awareness of generational shifts as I have become middle-aged, seeing the effects of time not only on my parents and children, but also on standards of value and standards of living. I have become more aware of how notions of family and tradition have changed in the past few decades, and, prompted by some family experiences, I hope to preserve sense of belonging. I am also, I admit, trying to figure out explanations for odd pieces of experience. “Mandolin,” first appearing in The Connecticut Review, came from my learning at fifty that my maternal grandmother insisted that her new husband stop playing his mandolin once they got married. I was astounded by that information; everyone had always encouraged me and my brother to learn to play music, as my wife and I have encouraged our children. Since my grandmother passed away many years ago, I of course could not ask her why she banished the mandolin; however, I pondered reasons for a long time and came up with some explanations, mostly centered around a young wife who believes her husband sings about experiences he yearns to have. I’ll never know my grandmother’s true reasons, of course, but I benefited from considering possible reasons.
I also started mandolin lessons pretty soon afterwards.
I think I am likely to face a couple of uncomfortable reactions to some of these poems, though. In some cases, for the sake of the poem, I have fudged on facts a bit and will have to plead “poetic license.”
Another situation that may crop up will come from my mixing completely fictional first-person narratives in with the more autobiographical material, some of it scandalous, so I am expecting interesting conversations in future family reunions.
What genre does your book fall under?
Poetry, with a mix of lyric and narrative pieces—
Which characters would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
I wish I could tell you that Tim Robbins would be perfect to play me, but mirrors have insisted over the years that either Michael J. Pollard (Bonnie and Clyde) or Eraserhead-era Jack Nance would have much closer physical resemblance. I think I would want Atticus Finch to consult with Sheriff Taylor in Mayberry, and go for that feel as long as the film can sustain it. Finch could use some of the relief, and Taylor could use some of the help.
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
I was listening that whole time, but I’m still trying to understand.
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
I have not started sending this manuscript out yet. I am new to the idea of publishing a creative volume, more accustomed to submitting single pieces to journals; my book publication experience has been with academic texts, and I am not certain how that experience will translate. The great majority of these poems will have been published in various journals. This collection will be my first book-length creative manuscript submission.
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
It has taken a bit over three years so far. I have been balancing creative writing with academic and scholarly writing, presenting papers, and publishing essays. My co-editor Roxanne Harde and I have a collection of essays, Walking the Line: Country Music Lyricists and American Culture, coming out later this year, and preparing that volume has taken a lot of concentration and energy. I do not know what it would be like to have the liberty to focus on creative writing alone. So, I’ve been piecing this manuscript together for quite a while.
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Most of these poems describe ordinary circumstances that carry emotional resonance not obvious in the immediate experience, so the content would compare to any number of works.
Who or what inspired you to write this book?
As I have mentioned before, questions about family and tradition have prompted many of these poems. I confess that a couple are a product of useful eavesdropping, but I have an immediate tie, either through personal experience or through having integrated family stories, to the situations in most of the poems. Of course, saying that any of it “really” happened is another matter. This volume is not a family history so much as an exploration of family and its meaning—I incorporate family to illustrate, not to define.
Regarding the writing itself, part of what happened was in spring 2008 I was at a scholarly conference and met someone who had been serving as associate dean at another university, and, when she learned that I had just gotten a similar appointment, she said that I “would never get anything written.” I took that comment hard, because I was still teaching and working on some projects. Her comment strengthened my resolve that I would continue writing as much as I could. Then, that fall, Jesse Graves joined our faculty at ETSU, and Dan Westover joined us in 2010. I cannot express how appreciative I have been of the catalyst these two have been to my writing, with the encouragement that they have offered and continue to offer. As I completed a book project, I was beginning creative writing again after a long fallow period, and I have regained a feeling of needing to write. I also began attending conferences that concentrated on writing (I have attended every Mountain Heritage Literary Festival at Lincoln Memorial University, for example), and I have come to recognize writing as a community activity. The generosity offered by these folks can be overwhelming at times, just overwhelming.
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?
On the submissions page for Appalachian Heritage, George Brosi expresses editorial preferences like so: “Please spare us the 'Papaw Was Perfect' poetry and the 'Mamaw Moved Mountains' manuscripts.” My work is not nostalgic, romantic, or sentimental, although I hope it does convey feeling and thoughtfulness, with a bit of mischief thrown in.
Coming up next, week, look forward to hearing from Sylvia Woods, Georgia Green Stamper, and Dan Westover. Thanks for reading!
Friday, December 28, 2012
I Think DC Comics Is Breaking Up with Me
I returned to reading comics in the mid '80s, while I was writing my dissertation on attempts to define race in African American novels addressing the issue of racial passing. In hindsight, I can see how my interest in dual identities led me back to reading comics as a light relief from the scholarship, but I must acknowledge that two major factors were also at work at the time. Alan Moore was writing the mini-series Watchmen, and Frank Miller was offering a dramatically different take on Batman in his mini-series, The Dark Knight Returns. Both of these works were from DC Comics, publishers of the Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Justice League comics. Radically different interpretations of a dystopian America, each prompted by the political inequities of the Reagan administration, Watchmen and DKR appealed to me, emphasizing the necessity for personal responsibility and resilience while also encouraging me to follow writers in a genre I had always loved but had put aside in my high school years.
This new engagement led to my continuing to follow specific writers' works and the works of related authors as I discovered them. Moore was involved in DC's Swamp Thing and Hellblazer, core titles of what would become the DC Comics' imprint, Vertigo, a line of comics intended for grown-up readers who were interested in reading horror, crime, and speculative works in the graphic format. Having been a long-time reader of Heavy Metal, a compilation magazine that at the time offered cutting-edge European comics, I found Vertigo a welcome experiment. When DC made the move of carefully segregating Vertigo characters from the mainstream universe, assuring, for example, that Swamp Thing would have only limited contact with the costumed heroes of the regular DC Universe, that the occult matters addressed in Hellblazer would stay in that title, limiting the aggravating tendency of grand, multi-title crossovers so common in the DC imprint, and that creator-owned, limited-series titles would assure a satisfying story arc in title after title, I became devoted to that imprint. I got to read Grant Morrison's run on Animal Man. I saw the horror and outrage of American culture reflected in Garth Ennis' Preacher. I suffered the serial heartbreak of Neil Gaiman's Sandman. Only rarely had the more mainstream comics affected me as these works had. I wrote conference papers about them and even published an article about Hellblazer in a national journal, an unusual but welcome addition to my professional CV.
(Permit me parenthetically to mention that I also followed the DC imprint Piranha Press, whose central title, Beautiful Stories for Ugly Children, delighted me but exasperated my comics dealer at the time of its publication. Piranha was a writer's imprint that had a more outre feel than Vertigo. I miss it.)
Nevertheless, I find myself with the realization that while I have read and enjoyed Vertigo Comics for a generation now, the comics industry has changed radically in that time. Part of the change has come from its misapplication of its success in the '80s. Many in the industry, seeing the violence in DKR and thinking that it was the most marketable aspect of the work, permitted the ongoing mainstream series to rely more and more on violence as a primary selling point--rather than relying on authorship to complement its art, these comics began to play a game of chicken in seeing who could up the ante further with bloodbaths and ruthlessness, at the cost of character development and story. Entire issues of some comics would wind up being little more than a continued fight scene throughout. The other disturbing element of the industry, the more and more obvious tendency of the corporations to exploit their creators to the point of stealing their creations from them, hurt as well. Creators were dying in near poverty while huge corporations were garnering obscene profits from their work. Even DC, who gained a great deal of critical and commercial success from Watchmen, denied Moore royalties from products they labeled promotional rather than commercial. These issues, in concert with questionable editorial decisions such as forcing Rick Veitch to abandon a Swamp Thing time travel storyline where the title character was to encounter Christ and a telephone survey to determine whether the new Robin, Jason Todd, was to die in a Batman story arc, led to my understanding more and more the distinction between comics as product and comics as a means of expression. Of course, I side with the creators and grow increasingly resistant to overt editorial decisions to move mere product.
In the past year, DC has condensed the Vertigo line considerably, and, next March, DC will have ended the long-running Hellblazer series at #300--a twenty-five year run. Its doing so makes an abrupt shift in policy; earlier, in its relaunching its entire mainstream DC Universe line in 2011, DC took two characters long associated with Vertigo, Animal Man and Swamp Thing, and placed them in the mainstream DC Universe, but these characters did not have titles currently running under the Vertigo imprint at that time. DC's step of cancelling Hellblazer moves its main character, John Constantine, squarely in the DC Universe, no longer half in and half out as he has been since the introduction of DC's Justice League Dark. With Constantine, the title character will find himself set fully in the DC Universe. In diminishing Vertigo, DC Comics has made its choice to reduce the number of titles whose approach I prefer to read, a move intended to beef up its line intended for action-oriented readers. This move, along with its letting go one of Vertigo's most influential editors, Karen Berger, suggests to me that DC no longer considers me a part of the reading demographic worth its vigorous attention. DC is withdrawing from me.
At this point, it is still withdrawal. There are still great Vertigo titles, most notably Fables, a consideration of how iconic figures of legend continue to interact in the current world. Vertigo will also soon offer a mini-series written by Neil Gaiman that offers more background stories about Morpheus, the lead figure of Sandman. Grant Morrison is currently writing solid Superman and Batman stories, although his involvement with Superman ends in early spring 2013. Further, as a life-long Batman fan, I cannot help but continue to pick up Detective and Batman (Scott Snyder's writing on the latter title engages me). I have also found that Dark Horse Comics offers some titles that have the feel that Vertigo has maintained, so I am also following Mike Mignola's work involving Hellboy and BPRD. I am not quitting comics cold turkey, but I see my pull list dwindling, down to a third of its former length, and I cannot help but sense that the comics industry is cycling me out.
This new engagement led to my continuing to follow specific writers' works and the works of related authors as I discovered them. Moore was involved in DC's Swamp Thing and Hellblazer, core titles of what would become the DC Comics' imprint, Vertigo, a line of comics intended for grown-up readers who were interested in reading horror, crime, and speculative works in the graphic format. Having been a long-time reader of Heavy Metal, a compilation magazine that at the time offered cutting-edge European comics, I found Vertigo a welcome experiment. When DC made the move of carefully segregating Vertigo characters from the mainstream universe, assuring, for example, that Swamp Thing would have only limited contact with the costumed heroes of the regular DC Universe, that the occult matters addressed in Hellblazer would stay in that title, limiting the aggravating tendency of grand, multi-title crossovers so common in the DC imprint, and that creator-owned, limited-series titles would assure a satisfying story arc in title after title, I became devoted to that imprint. I got to read Grant Morrison's run on Animal Man. I saw the horror and outrage of American culture reflected in Garth Ennis' Preacher. I suffered the serial heartbreak of Neil Gaiman's Sandman. Only rarely had the more mainstream comics affected me as these works had. I wrote conference papers about them and even published an article about Hellblazer in a national journal, an unusual but welcome addition to my professional CV.
(Permit me parenthetically to mention that I also followed the DC imprint Piranha Press, whose central title, Beautiful Stories for Ugly Children, delighted me but exasperated my comics dealer at the time of its publication. Piranha was a writer's imprint that had a more outre feel than Vertigo. I miss it.)
Nevertheless, I find myself with the realization that while I have read and enjoyed Vertigo Comics for a generation now, the comics industry has changed radically in that time. Part of the change has come from its misapplication of its success in the '80s. Many in the industry, seeing the violence in DKR and thinking that it was the most marketable aspect of the work, permitted the ongoing mainstream series to rely more and more on violence as a primary selling point--rather than relying on authorship to complement its art, these comics began to play a game of chicken in seeing who could up the ante further with bloodbaths and ruthlessness, at the cost of character development and story. Entire issues of some comics would wind up being little more than a continued fight scene throughout. The other disturbing element of the industry, the more and more obvious tendency of the corporations to exploit their creators to the point of stealing their creations from them, hurt as well. Creators were dying in near poverty while huge corporations were garnering obscene profits from their work. Even DC, who gained a great deal of critical and commercial success from Watchmen, denied Moore royalties from products they labeled promotional rather than commercial. These issues, in concert with questionable editorial decisions such as forcing Rick Veitch to abandon a Swamp Thing time travel storyline where the title character was to encounter Christ and a telephone survey to determine whether the new Robin, Jason Todd, was to die in a Batman story arc, led to my understanding more and more the distinction between comics as product and comics as a means of expression. Of course, I side with the creators and grow increasingly resistant to overt editorial decisions to move mere product.
In the past year, DC has condensed the Vertigo line considerably, and, next March, DC will have ended the long-running Hellblazer series at #300--a twenty-five year run. Its doing so makes an abrupt shift in policy; earlier, in its relaunching its entire mainstream DC Universe line in 2011, DC took two characters long associated with Vertigo, Animal Man and Swamp Thing, and placed them in the mainstream DC Universe, but these characters did not have titles currently running under the Vertigo imprint at that time. DC's step of cancelling Hellblazer moves its main character, John Constantine, squarely in the DC Universe, no longer half in and half out as he has been since the introduction of DC's Justice League Dark. With Constantine, the title character will find himself set fully in the DC Universe. In diminishing Vertigo, DC Comics has made its choice to reduce the number of titles whose approach I prefer to read, a move intended to beef up its line intended for action-oriented readers. This move, along with its letting go one of Vertigo's most influential editors, Karen Berger, suggests to me that DC no longer considers me a part of the reading demographic worth its vigorous attention. DC is withdrawing from me.
At this point, it is still withdrawal. There are still great Vertigo titles, most notably Fables, a consideration of how iconic figures of legend continue to interact in the current world. Vertigo will also soon offer a mini-series written by Neil Gaiman that offers more background stories about Morpheus, the lead figure of Sandman. Grant Morrison is currently writing solid Superman and Batman stories, although his involvement with Superman ends in early spring 2013. Further, as a life-long Batman fan, I cannot help but continue to pick up Detective and Batman (Scott Snyder's writing on the latter title engages me). I have also found that Dark Horse Comics offers some titles that have the feel that Vertigo has maintained, so I am also following Mike Mignola's work involving Hellboy and BPRD. I am not quitting comics cold turkey, but I see my pull list dwindling, down to a third of its former length, and I cannot help but sense that the comics industry is cycling me out.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Newtown and News
My heart goes out to the community of Newtown.
I wrote this material in reply to an e-mail I received Saturday morning, as my colleagues and I were closing a semester and coping with the news from Newtown. My comments about gun violence, weapons fetishism, and the like are elsewhere, not hard to find. I write here about the media. I have made a few editorial changes from my original e-mail.
Good morning, everyone. I am on campus—I got here early, thinking I would get some writing in before attending the convocation, where I will be editing an article while the names get called out. I will be in DJ mode there, the way I used to work in my hometown country station, listening just enough to catch the cue for the next action. In this case, rather than waiting for a song’s end before starting the next track, I will kind of wait for student’s names I recognize to see them walk with the empty diploma holder in hand.
Last night, Middlekid took a field trip to Knoxville to hear a symphony concert of Christmas music. His band teacher made the arrangements. At home, Firstkid took over one of the couches and stayed online while Dotter watched a newly-released director’s cut of Little Shop of Horrors. In this original version of the musical, not widely released because it tested poorly with contemporary audiences, the heroes die near the end, before the giant alien carnivorous plants take over the entire world to doo-wop-influenced eighties synth. Betterhalf worked until 8:00, because her company installed new programming, and she along with two other women were getting all the files straight so doctors and health providers in the area could get paid as they should.
This morning, while on campus, I checked. Our Department of Communication does offer a course in journalistic ethics. It is a sophomore-level class.
Over the past day, I have seen nationally renowned networks place seven-year-olds on television to discuss hearing shots. I have read how the networks got the name of a suspect wrong, sending the misinformation out globally before getting the information right, and completely misrepresenting the shooter's first victim, his mother, and her relationship to the attacked elementary school. At least one journalist started approaching relatives of victims through direct messaging them on Twitter; someone called the grandmother of the shooter to ask her what she thought before she had gotten official word of the incident; the estranged father of the shooter was ambushed with a microphone, completely oblivious to the reason why until the “reporter” shoved the microphone on his face. Opinions of people on the street are everywhere, and, of course, to preserve themes, some of them are even saying that somehow the shootings are more horrible because they have occurred during a holiday season, as if it would be better had it occurred in August.
These are the networks who, in their rush to be first, told us that in the Sago Mine disaster, only one person had died and the rest of the trapped miners had survived, when it was the other way around. These were the networks who prematurely reported that the Supreme Court had determined that the Affordable Care Act unconstitutional, when the findings were the exact opposite. These are the networks who declared George W. Bush the winner of the 2000 election, networks that accepted the notion of “embedded” reporters without fully considering that embedding reporters means that someone is controlling their access to events, networks that were considered heroic when they were doing their jobs by showing the neglected atrocities of Katrina’s aftermath, night after night for almost a month. These are the networks that devote hour upon hour to pundits and commentators because, even when a newsworthy event occurs, the rush to get footage on the air conflicts directly with the need to digest the information, check it for accuracy, and explain what has happened. They apparently feel pressured to rush content, because anyone with a webcam can offer opinion, too, ranging from the distressed call for everyone to love everyone else to the declaration that we should put concealed weapons on kindergarten teachers to prevent situations like yesterday’s from happening in the future. The internet makes it possible to find someone in agreement with just about every opinion imaginable.
And, to top it off, yesterday Rupert Murdoch was communicating his dismay. Since he owns Fox News, perhaps he could exercise some editorial direction and influence that network’s take on the events. Because, after all, in a world where we are quick to blame a couple of Australian shock jocks for causing a British nurse’s suicide with a telephone prank, perhaps even a global media magnate could consider that airing inflammatory viewpoints for profit and political sway could contribute to a climate where horrors become a part of the new normal.
One of my colleagues noted that one of his mythology students was dismissive of the course content because those gods are "not real, anyway," while my colleague had attempted to demonstrate that those unexplainable forces still exist, that our human impulse to embody explanations persists. In the wake of this heart-rending incident, many commentators were quick to refer to the shooter as "pure evil," participating in that cycle of attempting to put a face on a combination of factors difficult to weigh, measure, and confront. Sometimes the resonance of a story, especially as it gets repeated in various forms, does not become immediately apparent. Only rarely have I seen immediate effect from whatever I accomplish in a classroom.
I’m heading over to an event filled with hope and relief. It’s time for convocation.
I wrote this material in reply to an e-mail I received Saturday morning, as my colleagues and I were closing a semester and coping with the news from Newtown. My comments about gun violence, weapons fetishism, and the like are elsewhere, not hard to find. I write here about the media. I have made a few editorial changes from my original e-mail.
Good morning, everyone. I am on campus—I got here early, thinking I would get some writing in before attending the convocation, where I will be editing an article while the names get called out. I will be in DJ mode there, the way I used to work in my hometown country station, listening just enough to catch the cue for the next action. In this case, rather than waiting for a song’s end before starting the next track, I will kind of wait for student’s names I recognize to see them walk with the empty diploma holder in hand.
Last night, Middlekid took a field trip to Knoxville to hear a symphony concert of Christmas music. His band teacher made the arrangements. At home, Firstkid took over one of the couches and stayed online while Dotter watched a newly-released director’s cut of Little Shop of Horrors. In this original version of the musical, not widely released because it tested poorly with contemporary audiences, the heroes die near the end, before the giant alien carnivorous plants take over the entire world to doo-wop-influenced eighties synth. Betterhalf worked until 8:00, because her company installed new programming, and she along with two other women were getting all the files straight so doctors and health providers in the area could get paid as they should.
This morning, while on campus, I checked. Our Department of Communication does offer a course in journalistic ethics. It is a sophomore-level class.
Over the past day, I have seen nationally renowned networks place seven-year-olds on television to discuss hearing shots. I have read how the networks got the name of a suspect wrong, sending the misinformation out globally before getting the information right, and completely misrepresenting the shooter's first victim, his mother, and her relationship to the attacked elementary school. At least one journalist started approaching relatives of victims through direct messaging them on Twitter; someone called the grandmother of the shooter to ask her what she thought before she had gotten official word of the incident; the estranged father of the shooter was ambushed with a microphone, completely oblivious to the reason why until the “reporter” shoved the microphone on his face. Opinions of people on the street are everywhere, and, of course, to preserve themes, some of them are even saying that somehow the shootings are more horrible because they have occurred during a holiday season, as if it would be better had it occurred in August.
These are the networks who, in their rush to be first, told us that in the Sago Mine disaster, only one person had died and the rest of the trapped miners had survived, when it was the other way around. These were the networks who prematurely reported that the Supreme Court had determined that the Affordable Care Act unconstitutional, when the findings were the exact opposite. These are the networks who declared George W. Bush the winner of the 2000 election, networks that accepted the notion of “embedded” reporters without fully considering that embedding reporters means that someone is controlling their access to events, networks that were considered heroic when they were doing their jobs by showing the neglected atrocities of Katrina’s aftermath, night after night for almost a month. These are the networks that devote hour upon hour to pundits and commentators because, even when a newsworthy event occurs, the rush to get footage on the air conflicts directly with the need to digest the information, check it for accuracy, and explain what has happened. They apparently feel pressured to rush content, because anyone with a webcam can offer opinion, too, ranging from the distressed call for everyone to love everyone else to the declaration that we should put concealed weapons on kindergarten teachers to prevent situations like yesterday’s from happening in the future. The internet makes it possible to find someone in agreement with just about every opinion imaginable.
And, to top it off, yesterday Rupert Murdoch was communicating his dismay. Since he owns Fox News, perhaps he could exercise some editorial direction and influence that network’s take on the events. Because, after all, in a world where we are quick to blame a couple of Australian shock jocks for causing a British nurse’s suicide with a telephone prank, perhaps even a global media magnate could consider that airing inflammatory viewpoints for profit and political sway could contribute to a climate where horrors become a part of the new normal.
One of my colleagues noted that one of his mythology students was dismissive of the course content because those gods are "not real, anyway," while my colleague had attempted to demonstrate that those unexplainable forces still exist, that our human impulse to embody explanations persists. In the wake of this heart-rending incident, many commentators were quick to refer to the shooter as "pure evil," participating in that cycle of attempting to put a face on a combination of factors difficult to weigh, measure, and confront. Sometimes the resonance of a story, especially as it gets repeated in various forms, does not become immediately apparent. Only rarely have I seen immediate effect from whatever I accomplish in a classroom.
I’m heading over to an event filled with hope and relief. It’s time for convocation.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Thanksgiving 2012
Actually, today is Black Friday. Wal-Mart workers are on strike, two of the three kids (they are all home) are still asleep, and Betterhalf is about to slip out to her favorite store for a little shopping. I have not written a blog entry in months, but I have some things on my mind. Let's unpack for a while, shall we?
First of all, this holiday has not been as expected. I have pneumonia this year, brought on, at least in part, by my pushing too much to get a lot of work done this semester, teaching an extra class, presenting three conference papers, attempting to complete a book (still working on securing rights to quote lyrics, by the way), and carrying on the usual teaching and administrative responsibilities. It has been a long ride, but the semester is almost over, and I am looking forward to the spring.
I have had some modest success in publication this year, as well.
But, more important than work, always more important than work, is seeing how well my family is doing. My parents are in good health, my kids are flourishing, and my wife just loves the job she started last January. It is a pleasure to see them so happy and engaged in day-to-day life--they all have something to look forward to, and I can think of little more important than that.
I wish we could have travelled this weekend, but this little Thanksgiving has meant a great deal to me, too. I am about to start grading essays, I will get to teach again on Monday (I have been out for two weeks), and, surely, I will eventually begin enjoying the creative effects of codeine that Coleridge supposedly enjoyed--all right, that last part is a lie. I will recover from this bout of pneumonia just as I always have, and I will establish a new normal to adapt.
I hope you all have enjoyed a restful, satisfying holiday.
First of all, this holiday has not been as expected. I have pneumonia this year, brought on, at least in part, by my pushing too much to get a lot of work done this semester, teaching an extra class, presenting three conference papers, attempting to complete a book (still working on securing rights to quote lyrics, by the way), and carrying on the usual teaching and administrative responsibilities. It has been a long ride, but the semester is almost over, and I am looking forward to the spring.
I have had some modest success in publication this year, as well.
But, more important than work, always more important than work, is seeing how well my family is doing. My parents are in good health, my kids are flourishing, and my wife just loves the job she started last January. It is a pleasure to see them so happy and engaged in day-to-day life--they all have something to look forward to, and I can think of little more important than that.
I wish we could have travelled this weekend, but this little Thanksgiving has meant a great deal to me, too. I am about to start grading essays, I will get to teach again on Monday (I have been out for two weeks), and, surely, I will eventually begin enjoying the creative effects of codeine that Coleridge supposedly enjoyed--all right, that last part is a lie. I will recover from this bout of pneumonia just as I always have, and I will establish a new normal to adapt.
I hope you all have enjoyed a restful, satisfying holiday.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Long Summer (So Far) of Writing
It's been a while since the last post, but life has been pushing, and I have been pushing back. The summer began with my department's having to evacuate our building, so I have been working in a space that looks like the set for Sanford & Son, and it's been difficult to focus on composing while thinking of the moving job to come. At the same time, though, I have been writing chapters of a book to be published this fall--I am co-editing a volume of essays about the interaction of country music lyricists and American culture. My co-editor, Roxanne Harde, and I have been bearing down on this project for the last year. I am down to tweaking a chapter on Cindy Walker and Lyle Lovett (I have already written chapters on Johnny Cash and Merle Haggard, as well as co-writing the introduction with a discussion of The Dixie Chicks) and securing the publishing rights to reproducing some lyrics. I will make a big announcement when it appears.
There have been other writing projects, as well. I have been writing some poetry, and I have managed to place some, as well. I also received a few days ago Louisiana Literature's spring 2012 issue, which contains my two poems "Jones Valley" and "Copperhead." My blog's title comes from a line in "Jones Valley." I have poems accepted at a handful of journals, including Cape Rock Journal, The Connecticut Review, and Stoneboat, among others, and I will have two poems in the "Tennessee" volume of The Southern Poetry Anthology, due next year. I am also revising a couple of academic articles that will appear in scholarly journals in the next year, and I am scheduled to present two papers this coming fall semester.
Did I mention that I'm taking mandolin lessons, too?
I just want to assure you that absence from the blog does not mean I am slowing down. I'm pushing harder.
There have been other writing projects, as well. I have been writing some poetry, and I have managed to place some, as well. I also received a few days ago Louisiana Literature's spring 2012 issue, which contains my two poems "Jones Valley" and "Copperhead." My blog's title comes from a line in "Jones Valley." I have poems accepted at a handful of journals, including Cape Rock Journal, The Connecticut Review, and Stoneboat, among others, and I will have two poems in the "Tennessee" volume of The Southern Poetry Anthology, due next year. I am also revising a couple of academic articles that will appear in scholarly journals in the next year, and I am scheduled to present two papers this coming fall semester.
Did I mention that I'm taking mandolin lessons, too?
I just want to assure you that absence from the blog does not mean I am slowing down. I'm pushing harder.
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