Controlling — and opening — minds in Arizona

Posted on December 29, 2010 by sheilawill

Ethnic studies end in Arizona on Jan. 1. The conservative state legislature is really calling for an end to teaching about social justice. What the hell. It’s OK to teach about a genocide relating to one ethnic group, such as the Holocaust, but not about its relationship to other genocides.

Isn’t a major goal of studying genocide figuring out how to stop it from happening again? Will ignoring the history of genocide move us in that direction?

The wacko state legislature also wants to end campus gun bans. “If an assailant comes into a classroom with intent to do harm, it’s minimized by a law-abiding citizen that’s allowed to carry (a weapon) concealed,” says Sen. Jack Harper, R-Surprise.

That’s right, we’re going to trust that more Arizonans “carrying” will protect us. The initial vigilantes will be “qualified” faculty on university and community college campuses, but Harper also aims to qualify certain students as wild westerners in the future.  A return to vigilante law to herd off a possible attack?

The fears of police chiefs are unwarranted, says the legislator. Oh really? I’m not sure how many students have been murdered on Arizona college campuses, but I don’t think more people carrying guns will help.

So the state legislature raises the paranoia level.

With Arizona racing to the bottom of spending on public education (they’re nearly there at #49), I understand why parents choose to send their kids to private schools — if they’re lucky enough to afford them.

Expansive learning opportunities are plentiful at local private schools or a few of the charter schools where the legislature doesn’t institute its obsessive fears.

After a hiatus of six years, I’ll be returning to teaching starting next week. The Jewish Federation of Southern Arizona’s Hebrew High is offering an exemplary program to teens: “A Commitment to Remember.”

Local Holocaust survivors will tell their stories to a small group of high school students, who will commit to sharing the survivors’ stories through 2045 (100 years after the end of World War II) and beyond.

Students will keep journals, interview survivors and discuss what they’ve learned.  Their questions, epiphanies and the survivors’ historical testimonies will be presented at the public Yom HaShoah commemoration on Sunday, May 1 from 2 to 4 p.m. at Congregation Anshei Israel, 5550 E. Fifth Street.

Now that’s education.

Posted in For Love of History | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

“Generosity”

Posted on December 26, 2010 by sheilawill

What a title. What an author. Eight of Richard Powers’ nine novels now reside on our coffee table, each waiting to be chosen by Dan or me for reading next. Dan has already read half the titles; Powers is that good. A MacArthur fellow, he teaches at the University of Illinois.

Enrolled as a physics major in 1975, Powers turned to literature because “the sciences demanded, even encouraged, an intolerable specialization.”

Dan keeps raving about his books that balance story and neuroscience, and I’ve flipped through the pages of a few titles. Last week I opened “Generosity: An Enchantment,” and saw psychologist and “An Unquiet Mind” author Kay Redfield Jamison’s  quote from “Exuberance.” I couldn’t resist.

“Exuberance carries us places we would not otherwise go — across the savannah, to the moon, into the imagination — and if we ourselves are not so exuberant we will, caught up by the contagious joy of those who are, be inclined collectively to go yonder.”

Exuberance. Moods. Is happiness genetic? Powers explores these questions in “Generosity.” How can an Algerian refugee who’s known tragedy in her life be so joyful? Is her happiness real?

The book’s protagonist, Russel Stone, is a writing teacher enamored of his student, the Algerian/Canadian Thassa Amzwar. She catapults into the news because of a near rape, which doesn’t come close to breaking her. Having escaped from a country that experienced a ten-year bloodbath, “Thassa has emerged from that land glowing like a blissed-out mystic.”

I don’t want to give away too much of the story. Plus, I still don’t understand it all so I’d like to discuss with other readers. Maybe I’ll suggest “Generosity,” which won the National Book Award (as did Powers’ “The Echo Maker”), to my book group.

“Generosity” may be a newly important book in my life. Added to the intrigue is Stone’s early writing career set in Tucson, and the geneticist character Thomas Kurton’s “smart house” that he retreats to in Maine. Uncanny, don’t you think?

It’s always so exciting to discover a new author who resonates. Hello Richard Powers.

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Getting stuff done

Posted on December 23, 2010 by sheilawill

I’m not getting anything done because I feel crappy, but part of my brain seems to be working. Going to the doctor soon to see if I have a sinus infection.

But Quack! Quack! Congress got something done in what was to be a presumably do-nothing lame duck session.

I understand that politics rules but if only the prez could institute everything that Pulitizer Prize-winning Princeton prof and NYT columnist Paul Krugman suggests. He was interviewed last night on Rachel Maddow’s special leadership series at the 92nd Street Y in New York City.

A we’re all in this together attitude isn’t vaguely on the minds of most Republicans in Congress. What Republicans said during the Great Depression, noted Krugman, “sounded humane” compared to a complete loss of sanity today.

Newt the creepy newt Gingrich has said we shouldn’t give money to people for “doing nothing.” Not to mention that laid-off Americans who receive unemployment benefits have paid into this system for security during their working years.

And, said Krugman, “the blackmail will resume” for Congress to keep extending upper-level income tax cuts beyond the two years in the bill that President Obama signed this week.

That’s about all the thinking I can do today. I tried. I’m reading “Generosity,” an intriguing book by Richard Powers. I’ve watched “Easy A” (on the stupid side) and “Letters to Juliet” (gorgeous Tuscany scenery and romance galore). Mostly I’ve slept and walked around complaining, sighing, “Oh Boy.”

Think I’ll go to Casa Video on my way to the doctor’s and pick up more videos, and this week’s Tucson Weekly with terrifically inspiring “Local Heroes” stories, including mine about Jill Rich.

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A family of Schragers

Posted on December 22, 2010 by sheilawill

Their posed photograph at cousin Alan’s bar mitzvah sits on my desk. Only seven of the twenty-seven Schrager family members are still alive. It was more than 50 years ago when Sid, my smiling father, had his arm around two women — my mother with her eyes closed, and the sexier NY cousin Bess. I probably only met her that once but how can I forget her strapless gown?

Aunt Lee, my mother’s younger sister and mother of the bar mitzvah boy, wore a stunning icy blue taffeta dress. She was a redhead, as was my mother, whose hair appears much darker in the family photo.

And there I am, sitting on the floor in the first row wearing a ruffled organza dress. The photographer must have told us to put our arms out in front of us, which we kids did, except for the blond boy whom nobody ever recognizes.

Like my mother, Ida Schrager Wilensky, my eyes were closed. I remember nothing about that day. But I will tell you that my svelte, adorable Aunt Esther just died last year at age 98. The last time I saw her was in Atlantic City around 15 years ago.

“Does Ethan have a fake I.D.?” she asked immediately, wanting to show my game teenage son around the casinos. “Uh, no,” I replied, but Ethan was a tall 15-year-old with facial hair.

I remember his smile and reply, which was something like “Alright, Aunt Esther!”

In the formal Schrager photo my older brother, Joel, sat immediately to my left and in front of our beloved “Bubbie,” or grandmother, known by her Yiddish name Sima, meaning celebration.

In her final years, Bubbie alternated between living in Philadelphia with Aunt Lee and her family, and with us in Waterbury, Conn.

I’m an optimist: Although sad memories linger, such as my mother swearing at Bubbie in Yiddish when she dropped an egg on the floor, I prefer to conjure the image of Bubbie and me dancing  after school to American Bandstand.

When the family photo was taken, I was around seven, the baby of the Schrager cousins.

These days, Joel and I talk by phone every week. I got back in touch with cousins Linda, now Sita, and  Gloria, now Nikki, around 20 years ago. We’re still alive, and boy/oh girl, do we have stories to tell.

Happy holidays to all Schragers, Sanchezes, Smiths or Santoris. May you have a lively and peaceful new year.

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An author’s racket: Clive Cussler

Posted on December 20, 2010 by sheilawill

Do you know any bestselling authors whose names appear on their book covers but they didn’t write their books?

We were at Changing Hands Bookstore in Tempe on Friday evening, looking for a way to pass the time. Clive Cussler and his son Dirk were scheduled to appear at 7 p.m. I’ve always enjoyed listening to authors, and have set up many author events when I owned Oz Books.

Maybe I’ll learn something about writing, I mistakenly thought.

The two Cusslers hopped onto the small stage, launching into the obligatory writer stories. First some repetitive and boring blabber from Dirk about getting his dad to begin work on their latest adventure saga, “Crescent Dawn.”

Each instance of approaching the older Cussler ended with “I skulked away with my head down…” But the Cusslers had their adoring fans, carrying shopping bags laden with hardcovers waiting to be signed, which wasn’t lost on Clive.

I don’t even remember his writer’s story, but I was surprised that he so quickly asked the audience, “Are you ready to have some books signed?”

A treasure hunter and diver, the 79-year-old Cussler didn’t look his age. His bronzed face made him look like an adventurer.  Hearing him talk briefly about diving down into the ancient Alexandria, Egypt library confirmed that indeed he was.

Dressed in a big sweatshirt and casual pants, Cussler appeared ready to hightail it back to the Biltmore for a few gin and tonics. But his die-hard fans had some questions. Someone asked about the collaboration between father and son, “How much do you each write?”

“Oh, Dirk wrote about 99 and 44 [/100] of the last four books”  (like the old Ivory soap ad), Clive told the audience. Father and son have a formula that sells books. Many readers like to know what they’re getting into. A little mystery, some history, tension, perhaps a battle or conflict, more tension, and denouement. I guess they deliver.

I looked at the first page of “Crescent Dawn,” and was bored with the overblown descriptions. I prefer more subtle fiction with lots of introspection, complex characters, language that won’t let me go.

Clive had been in advertising before writing his first novel. His son Dirk was a financial planner. Do they know how to make money? You betcha.

What a racket they’ve got going!

I like the sound effects on Clive’s website, tingly ship bells, ocean swooshes. I clicked on a listing of his books. Canned music played that you’d hear when your dentist puts you on hold.

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Believing what you see: the information desk

Posted on December 18, 2010 by sheilawill

We had three hours to kill in Phoenix. Connor’s plane would arrive late from Eugene and we weren’t sure what time he was landing. There was only one sensible thing to do: head over to the Mesa Gateway Airport to find out.

We got there around 8 p.m., intending to read new/used books scored on a fun visit to Changing Hands Bookstore.  The arrival room at the spiffed-up little airport was practically empty, a big open space with a shiny tiled floor, four rental-car booths and one guy reading a newspaper.

The Allegiant Air wall sign posted only four flights, from Eugene, Grand Island, Bozeman and Rapid City, all about two hours late and landing between 9:30 and 10 p.m.

Dan decided that the rows of stiff chairs were too uncomfortable for reading. He strolled over to the information desk, which had two empty padded chairs behind it. We settled in with our books. That’s when the fun began.

First an old man came up and asked why the flights were late. We made up a theory that became feasible: the early morning fog in Phoenix had caused the delays.

At least four people wanted us to explain how the parking payment system worked. I suggested that it was better to pay outside in the parking lot, since I was clueless about how to use the payment machine nearby.

“Let me help you,” said Dan to one woman and walked over to the machine with her. Whenever he factually, but unknowingly, answered a question, I cracked up and slapped him on the knee. The situation was just too funny.

Why weren’t these folks noticing that we didn’t belong there?

Two men hung around and chatted us up. One got married at 57, had a son who was a banker, flew all the time on business but now preferred driving. The other was originally from Wyoming, had been a farmer, lauded the Arizona Republic newspaper for providing coupons for over $450 worth of groceries that only cost him $150.

He started talking about how efficient Wyoming farmers were: “You know why? Because Wyoming is conservative!” I was itching to ask him if he knew Dick Cheney, which would surely have gotten us into a political mess.

Thankfully, and partly out of respect for Dan’s current aversion to politics, I opted not to. “Oh, let’s not talk about politics,” I pleaded. Good move.

Talking to regular folks is entertaining. We could have been in any small town. I thought of so many similar conversations I’ve had with strangers at the Bangor “International” Airport.

No tension, no fear, no disagreements.

When I saw people who looked like they had a question but weren’t coming up to the desk, I smiled or said “hi.” Guess that established the trust for them to come closer.

“Can I take those?” one quiet woman pointed to the Phoenix maps, brochures about the play “Annie,” Arizona tourist magazines, and listings of Allegiant Airlines destinations in a display behind us.

I wanted to give everyone permission. I’m not sure for what, but I replied, ” Absolutely!”

Posted in The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

My friend Kathleen

Posted on December 13, 2010 by sheilawill

Kathleen retired at around 40 from a high-level executive position with a major hi-tech company. She told me that she was a real hard-ass, didn’t have much compassion for employees who wanted to stay home with a sick family member. That’s hard to believe.

I met Kathleen eight years ago at DansKinetics (yoga + free-from movement) training at the Kripalu Center for Yoga & Health in Lenox, Mass. She was trying out what she would do next, as was I.

Yesterday Kathleen called me through Skype from Geris, the Turkish village where she’s lived for the past three years. Coming from Rhode Island, she’s a capable sailor and has also spent time sailing around the Greek Isles.

Kathleen has cooked at organic restaurants, became an esthetician, learned Reiki, created pottery, spent six months in India and headed a school in Pakistan for a few years.

She’s a different person than her  formerly uptight corporate self, she tells me. Her face often seems illuminated by kindness. Kathleen is spiritual but not religious,  and the most open-minded person I know. She doesn’t take any crap but can get along with anybody.

In my last post I mentioned that my world seems smaller, not in a bad way. Today I’ve changed my mind. Looking at the photos Kathleen e-mailed of the view across from the small house she rents, there was the blue blue Mediterranean.

The southwest coast of Turkey, she says, is very European. It’s easier to live there than in Pakistan, where she purchased rice at the market, had to pick the rocks out and thoroughly wash it before she could cook it. In Turkey she goes to the outdoor market, buys rice, takes it home and prepares it.

I’ve never experienced any of this.

Just the other day, I heard about the remote possibility of participating in a trip bringing together Israelis and Arabs. Yesterday I read that Nicholas Kristoff, the New York Times columnist, is looking for someone over 60 to travel to a developing country with him and a recent college graduate.

It wouldn’t be an easy trip but it would be eye-opening. I think I might apply.

Posted in The Rest of the World | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Comon’ baby light my fire

Posted on December 11, 2010 by sheilawill

Jim Morrison, the legendary Doors lead singer, was pardoned by the state of Florida for supposed “indecent acts” that occurred 40 years ago at one of his “raucous” concerts.

Why does outgoing Florida Gov. Charlie Crist care about  forgiving Morrison posthumously? Morrison often sang bare-chested in skin-tight black leather pants. He denied the charges but admitted to “profanity” at the time.

Does whatever Morrison did or didn’t do affect the legacy of his singular music, his haunting voice? I guess it does for some people.

Would anybody but the most conservative give a hoot today?

Other historical landmarks that are on my mind: John Lennon was shot and killed 30 years ago Dec. 8. My father would have been 104 on Dec. 9. Today is my niece Amy’s 41st birthday and my and my friend Julie’s half-birthday.

I used to think that being a tiny speck in the flow of history was my “religion.” Regardless of how small, I was a part of it all. I mattered.

Somehow my world seems smaller now. Maybe that’s what growing older does. Not that I’ve given up, but I’m more willing to leave activism and lots of activity to my kids, to my young friend Julie who reminds me so much of myself in my late 30s.

This isn’t a lament, far from it. I just don’t care so much about every little detail, or every why, and that’s a good thing. But I still wish I had seen Jim Morrison in person.

Posted in It's only rock 'n' roll | Tagged , | Leave a comment

“Fair Game”

Posted on December 10, 2010 by sheilawill

Why aren’t Dick Cheney and George Bush in jail? And why wasn’t “Fair Game” widely released prior to the election?

It was the best movie I’ve seen in a long time.

Naomi Watts was terrific as Valerie Plame, the outed CIA operative who with her husband, former Ambassador Joe Wilson, were used as pawns in the Cheney/Bush Iraq WMD fantasy. (See all the related NYT articles above).

I especially liked how the movie depicted Plame and Wilson reconnecting and saving their marriage. There were some poignant, realistic moments, like when Wilson (the always amazing Sean Penn) pleads with his wife to tell him the truth about the planning of a trip that he took to Niger. He was knowledgeable about the country, so the CIA asked him to check out some aluminum pipes, supposedly instrumental in the making of WMD. Some reporters later asked if the trip was a boondoggle — a week in Niger?

I liked how Joe and Valerie resolved to tell their story about BushCheney ruining Plame’s professional life, not giving a wink about people she was helping around the world. As she says, her job was “counter proliferation,” not starting an unjust, unnecessary war. That was the BushCheney blunder.

At the end of “Fair Game” Watts ascends the stairs of the Capital to testify. As she takes her seat to begin, the film switches to the actual Plame. Very powerful.

But here’s what I remembered in the middle of the movie: I covered the 2004 Democratic Convention in Boston. During boring daytime speeches allowing every pol to share some limelight, I strolled across the bridge to Cambridge to attend  alternative convention sessions.

I had completely forgotten about the dynamite talk Wilson gave to political activists and reporters. I was sitting on the floor next to Amy Goodman, taking notes. At the end of Wilson’s talk, he warned the audience of BushCheney’s total disregard for the rule of law.

“Be afraid. Be very afraid,” said Wilson. His words still gives me chills.

 

 

 

 

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Mussels and meat

Posted on December 8, 2010 by sheilawill

I’m not a food reviewer but I know when something tastes good. Especially mussels because I am from the coast of Maine.

So — I’ve been to three new restaurants lately: here’s my take on the grub.

Happy hour at the new Abbey at Kolb and Sunrise in the old Gavi location, owned by the folks who started Jax Kitchen two years ago. Definitely laudatory that they wanted to open a place named after their little girl since Jax was named after their son. I get it.

But they served the tiniest mussels I’ve ever seen! About as big as my pinky fingernails. They reminded me of the miniature Betty Crocker cakes that came in those toy box sets when I was a kid. Tiny.

It was also too crowded, close and noisy. I’ll give them another try.

Tonight we went to the elle wine bistro’s “soft” opening. All the food was comped and customers paid for the booze. Nice deal. Thanks Lori!

We had mussels — curried at that — for an app. Normal size for the most part and tasty. Then we went for meat. Dan had peach-glazed pork chops (not medallions as stated on the menu). I had two small but not miniature lamb chops, which were juicy and spiced just right but a bit on the raw side.

Made me recall the lollipop lamb chops topped with dark chocolate at the Red Sky in Southwest Harbor. Perfect. I was sorry they weren’t on the menu this summer.

Lori said she invited around 50 people for the opener tonight. Big Ethan the bartender waited on us, and mentioned something about problems with the computer. We were satisfied.

Luckily, there was no creme brulee for dessert. I’m usually happy to just hear about the dessert choices; I don’t have to order any. Tonight I was ready to indulge but alas, none was served. I can’t complain.

Last night I went to happy hour at Janos’ new Downtown Cocktails and Kitchen. Their nightly drink special is a bargain: only $4 for a vodka or gin mojito-type concoction with fresh grapefruit juice and a sprig of Tucson-prolific Rosemary instead of mint. Yummy.

I was with three pals, two of whom are traveling to India soon. Reason enough to celebrate how big our lives are. We ordered a bunch of half-price apps. Janos had told me when I interviewed him for my AJP “Downtown Tucson Hopping and Bopping…” story that he would have reasonable snacks.

He’s really liking peanuts these days. That’s okay; we had a tasty bowl of peanuts with lime juice for $3. Penny and Julie shared a lamb tongue taco. Not for me. Lots of ginger in Ahi ceviche, tender calmari with mango-ginger-pineapple garnish, and an extraordinary crusty bread with fresh, rich mushrooms, smothered with cheese and tomatoes. We couldn’t complain.

I felt like we were in Soho.

Across the street construction workers were clamoring around the skeleton of the new Tucson Electric Power building. Amy said that recently when she visited Austin there were chairs set up in the street for an audience to enjoy a dance performance at a construction site.

Tucson isn’t cool enough for that.  But who knows what’ll happen next?

 

 

 

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