If You Can't Say Something Nice...

I have never seen anything good come from snarky comments that undermine the belief systems or religion of another group. And I especially am bothered when people claim (or flippantly imply) that a certain group/person is "annoying," based on their belief system or the way that a group/person chooses to act (when such actions are somehow informed by a belief system). These people who complain that other religions are "annoying" could very well be undermining the belief system or ethics which they (the annoyed people) widely claim to uphold. It seems ironic and sad to me.

People! If you are annoyed by a certain group or belief system, can't you keep it to yourself? Does it do any good to complain or be snarky about it? Even if you oppose some of the political or ideological stances of a certain group, I can think of better ways to go about promoting your own agenda than complaining about, belittling, or attacking other people. When I notice people complaining about religion or a belief system, it seems to me that these complainers basically want to view themselves as being superior to the other group. And, in turn, these complaints seem to only function as a cry for validation or affirmation of such superiority. Do we really need to find superiority through the belittlement of others?

I don't think that religions and belief systems are things that should be flippantly described as "annoying" or "irritating." These systems are the things which give meaning and reason to a person's existence. Attacking such fundamental, personal aspects of a person's life seems heartless, especially if goal of the attack is self-aggrandizement.

Okay. It is ironic that I am complaining about people who complain. I get that. But this is an issue which is quite sensitive for me (for a myriad of reasons), and I find myself getting defensive and saddened when I read/hear such flippant remarks. And I don't just get defensive for myself. I get defensive and saddened on behalf my family/friends/neighbors/anyone who is the butt of such a joke or flippant remark.

The Miracle of America Mobile

Over the past two weeks or so, I have seen three —three!— old Nissan Stanza Wagons. The first one was blue, the second one was white, and then I saw a brown one this afternoon. I'm always shocked (and pleased!) when I come across one of these cars. I can't believe that there are still some which are still running. Each time I see one, I'm reminded that I need to write a post in homage of the Miracle of America Mobile, which used to be my car in college.

My family had this car for a long time (probably about fifteen years), before this car ended up being handed off to me and my sister V. We bought this car when it was brand new (in 1986 or 1987?), when I was pretty young. It was our first brand-new car in our family, and I have a vague recollection of tediously waiting in a car dealership while my dad haggled with the salesman over a good price for the car.

I remember going for long car trips in the Stanza Wagon when I was little. V and I would sit on the very back seats, which faced backward (so we looked out the back window of the hatch door). I remember being on one particularly long road trip, sitting backward, and staring at some people who were driving behind our car. The driver and his wife kept waving at me and V, which I thought was strange. I don't think we ever waved back. Now that I think about it, it was probably amusing for those people to see two little girls continually staring at them for a long time, as our cars drove down a long stretch of highway in Wyoming.

Not long after we bought this car, the hubcaps were stolen while we lived in Los Angeles. We never replaced them - I suppose it gave the car a little more character. And then many years down the road, my mom put a bumper sticker on the back of the car: "See the Miracle of America Museum in Polson, Montana!" (We visited that museum on a trip once, and my mom really liked the message of patriotism conveyed by the museum.) And hence, the car got it's name: "The Miracle of America Mobile" (or "Miracle" for short). And that car really was a miracle. It lived for a long, long time (just like my cousins' Volkswagen Quantum wagon, which lived so long that Sars once had a dream that the Quantum had been translated!).

By the time I took "Miracle" to college, a second sticker had been affixed to the bumper (to complete the patriotic look of the car?): a Power of Pride bumper sticker. So, in true patriotic spirit, V and I putted around our college town in our miraculous car. My roommates and I would sometimes go for joyrides to the grocery store a few blocks away; we would open the sunroof and sliding back doors while driving (which we claimed would convert the car into a Jeep). One time, we even took the car all the way to B City on a trip for ice cream. That trip really pushed my car to its limits; it really couldn't handle driving more than 60 miles or so in a single drive. And oh, it was such a temperamental little vehicle: you couldn't drive right at 65 mph, or the car would start to shake quite violently. But if you drove at 60 or 70 mph, your ride would be as smooth as can be.

I loved this car. (I loved it so much, in fact, that in 2002 I obviously persuaded someone (Joanna?) to take pictures of me with my car, which I included in this post.) I loved driving a stick shift; I felt more "tough" and tomboyish if I could shift gears. I also loved to decorate the car in my own small way; I would often rotate the decorations that hung from my rear view mirror. Sometimes I would hang a cowboy hat air freshener (to go along with my tough-ish image, I suppose), and other times I would hang one of the miniature disco balls that I got at Classic Skating.

Oh, those days with the Miracle of America Mobile were great. Even today, car trips and driving adventures pale in comparison with those that we experienced in Miracle.

Shirley Temple and Me

When I was young, I loved to watch Shirley Temple movies. My family owned several VHS tapes of Shirley Temple films, and my favorites included The Bluebird (which FOX created to compete with MGM's film The Wizard of Oz) and The Little Princess. As I got older, I felt a special connection with Shirley Temple, because of a letter that I got from my mother.

I don't know exactly why, but I was reminded of this letter today when I was driving in the car. When I got home, I pulled out the letter to read it again. My mom wrote this letter when I was at camp as a young teenager, sometime in the mid-1990s. Here's an excerpt:

"When I see old Shirley Temple movies and see Shirley Temple being extra grown up and mature and cheerful for her age - I think, 'M is like that.' Even though you have had some less cheerful times (on the surface or on your face expression) usually you are cheerful again soon. I see you use wisdom at a young age to be a leader to yourself to pull yourself out of gloominess. Of course we all have good reasons to be gloomy but I have seen you bring yourself back to cheerfulness even when the reason to be gloomy still exists..."

The letter continues with my mom saying that she hopes I don't get any headaches while I am at camp (which is ironic, because I'm typing this post while fending off a slight headache).

Although I don't feel much like Shirley Temple, I've always liked that my mom saw a similarity between me and the charming little child actress. And even more, I like that my mom believed that I have the ability to "pull [myself] out of gloominess." Sometimes I don't feel like I use the right coping mechanisms to deal with gloominess; I'd rather ignore problems and pull myself out of a grumpy mood through denial (something I am trying to correct).

But I do want to be a cheerful person, and I'm glad that my mom recognized that desire in me.

Rhino Horns in Museums = Endangered!

Rhino head in England's Museum of Natural History in Tring after the theft of a replica (!) horn

This is a topic that I almost feel tempted to write about on my art history blog, since it deals with museums and crime. But since the target of theft has been natural history museums, I thought I would write about it here.

This past weekend I recently read a little blurb in a recent National Geographic about the rising theft of rhino horns from museums (February 2012, p. 21). In the first eight months of 2011, thieves broke into multiple museums, a zoo, an auction house, and even a Czech castle. Apparently, rhino horns are fetching prices on the black market that rival that of gold or cocaine, partially because of an Asian rumor that the horns can cure cancer. The demand for horns has is driving thieves to do pretty desperate things. In some instances, the thieves have made off with 200-pound mounted heads!

Luckily, due to the rise of thefts, the Museum of National History in Tring had replaced their rhino horns with replicas out of resin (and therefore held no commercial value). The missing horn in the image above was a fake! Other museums have been advised to hide their rhinos or install replicas, too.

What does this mean for the future of rhinos (in zoos or in display cases)? National Geographic grimly notes that "postmortem poachers are making the imperiled species an imperiled specimen as well" (February 2012, p. 21).

Here's another article in the New York Times on the same subject, if you are interested.

Young Love

Happy Valentine's Day!

(Have you ever seen Cupid depicted with an ear horn before?)

There is a little girl at Sam's school who has a mega-crush on my son. I think it's adorable. From what I have heard, she always wants to get Sam to play "prince and princess" with her at school, and often asks Sam if he will marry her. One of the teachers at school told me that this girl asked the other day, "Sam, did you know that you are handsome?" And Sam said, "Yeah. [Pause.] I know."

This little girl's mom says that Sam is quite the topic of conversation in their home. And when I come to pick up Sam from school, this cute girl tries to ask me questions about Sam. "What does Sam's house look like?" "What is Sam's dad's name?" "Does Sam live by a hill?" I guess she wants to visualize more of Sam's life when he isn't around at school.

My son, on the other hand, is totally oblivious to her affection. He didn't even report that he "marries" this little girl when he is at school. Obviously, marriage doesn't phase him that much (or it's not exciting enough to report to your mom).

Anyhow, yesterday this little girl gave Sam a really darling valentine with her photo. The picture was taken in a studio with a backdrop and props set up for a Valentine's Day theme. She's wearing sparkly shoes and hugging a little heart pillow. It's darling. I know that she gave photos of herself to the other kids in the class, too, but I guess that her Valentine had added significance for my handsome little man.

J saw this photo and was reminded of when Alicia M. gave him a valentine in third grade that had her photo (in soft focus, he remembers). That reminded me of when I got a love note in second grade from David S., who wrote "Whenever I see you, my heart goes crazy." (That's pretty romantic thing for a boy in second-grade to write, don't you think?)

It will be interesting to see when Cupid will pay a visit to our little man. (At this rate, I don't think it will be for a long time, which is fine with me!) This morning I tried to get him to make a nice Valentine's Day video clip for family members, but he wasn't completely cooperative. If any family members see this (who are not mentioned by name in the clip), please know that you are still loved by my son. He's just rather fickle with his emotions at three years old. I promise that he loves you more than, oh, his shirt.

Towers and Bell Towers in the Movies

The other night, J and one of his long-time friends were watching the first Batman movie (1989) at our house. I didn't watch the movie with them, but I could hear their commentary from the next room. During the scene when Batman and the Joker have their final showdown in Gotham Cathedral (see above), K commented something like, "I wonder how other shows there are that have scenes with towers. It seems like there are a lot."

I thought this was an interesting comment, and I've been thinking about it lately. I can think of lots of movies that include tower scenes (often as part of the film climax), bell towers, and tower/bell tower imagery. When K made his passing remark, I immediately thought of Hitchcock's movie Vertigo (1958, see below), which culminates in a bell tower scene (see here and here).

And what about the clock tower scene in Back to the Future? ("Save the clock tower, save the clock tower!") As a kid, I also remember feeling anxious during the clock tower scene (in Big Ben) of The Great Mouse Detective (see below).

Side note: Interestingly, towers aren't always the location for climaxes, but their imagery is often incorporated into films. Big Ben is probably the best example. Tonight I came across this blog post which is a compilation of films in which Big Ben makes a cameo appears in the movies.

So here's my question: Why the obsession in film with towers, bell towers, and clock towers? What makes this setting so appropriate for the climax in a story? Is it because the height (climax) of the plot is visually emphasized through the height of the tower? Or, in a less metaphorical way, is it because of the physical height that is involved (to make the acrophobic in the audience nervous)? Or perhaps because towers usually only have one entrance/escape route (to make the agoraphobic in the audience nervous?) Or maybe the threat of lightning striking the tall structure? Or does it have something to do with what clocks and bells represent (i.e. the passing of time, the death knell, etc.). Perhaps towers embody all of these things, and I've answered my own question?

What do others think? Are there other reasons why towers are appropriate for climax scenes? And what other movies (or books!) do you know that include "showdown scenes" or climaxes located in towers? At present, the closest book scene I can think of is the "Lightning Struck Tower" chapter in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, the scene in which Snape kills Dumbledore. There is also a scene in the film made from the book, too.

Oh, there also is a great rooftop scene described at the end of Jane Eyre, after the insane Mrs. Rochester set the house on fire. But that's not a tower scene. I just felt like writing about it. Interestingly, though, Mrs. Rochester is locked away in the attic in the actual novel, but the Masterpiece Theatre film version elected to place the crazy woman in the North Tower.¹ Perhaps the director felt that towers better embody mystery and doom?

What is the earliest example of a "tower showdown scene" can you think of? The historian in me wants to trace a historical trajectory for this trend. Could Hitchcock have been a trendsetter for this type of scene with Vertigo, at least when it comes to film? It seems like there must be earlier examples, though!

1 Since I mentioned the attic in Jane Eyre, I thought I should mention that a few years ago a secret cell was discovered at Norton Conyers, the 16th century home thought to be the the location for Bronte's "Thornfield Hall." This has nothing to do with towers, obviously, but I think it's interesting.

my wrestle with a root

Many of you know that we moved into a new house about two weeks ago. We love our new house. After we get a few more things (and to swap out some of our non-matching furniture), I might end up posting some pictures on here.

For now, though, I'll give you a small preview of our side yard (see below, but pay no attention to our dilapidated shed in the background). Our house was vacant for several months before we purchased it, and I've been trying to clean up the yard when the weather is decent. (And, miraculously, all of the snow and ice has melted since our Snowpocalpyse/Snowmageddon last week.) Today I tackled some of the dead grass and prickly vines in our side yard. There was one prickly vine whose root would not give way, no matter what I did. I pulled on that root (and dug a huge hole, trying to loosen the root) for a good thirty minutes. My legs and arms were trembling from exertion. And finally, finally, the root gave way to reveal my largest uprooting achievement. Ever. I was so proud, I made Sam hold the root (to give a sense of scale) and I took a picture:

This root was even larger than what is shown above; a couple of parts snapped off in the uprooting process. And yes, my son is wearing a Jack Sparrow hat, sweat pants, and puffy coat. Fashion does not suffer when we do yard work.