A Little Holiday Love and Gratitude Video for You

 

Notable Films Watched in 2020: February, March, and April (all streaming)

I Am Not Your Negro (2016):

In Raoul Peck's powerful documentary, Peck brings to life the book writer James Baldwin never finished, Remember this House, providing an opportunity for Baldwin to tell the story of race in modern America. 

Horse Girl (2020):

Horse Girl illuminates the inner world of socially isolated and PTSD sufferer Sarah (Alison Brie), a craft store assistant with a love for horses and supernatural crime shows and increasingly lucid dreams that begin trickling into her waking life.

The Farewell (2019):

Lulu Wang's amazing comedy drama The Farewell centers on Chinese family members who discover their grandmother (Shuzhen Zhao) has only a short while left to live. With Awkwafini leading the cast as Americanized Billi, emotions run deep when the family decides to keep their grandmother in the dark, scheduling a wedding so everyone can gather for a final secret farewell before she dies.  

Crip Camp (2020):

In Crip Camp, directors James Lebrecht (a former camper) and Nicole Newnham reveals the joy and activism that sprung from summers spent at Camp Jened, a ramshackle camp in the Catskills specifically for teenagers with disabilities. At Camp Jened, teens with disabilities enjoyed activities typically reserved for "the able bodied" in the 1970s and built bonds with one another that endured as they migrated to Berkeley, California, a promised land for a growing and diverse disability community. With our own Joseph Heumann's sister Judy at the helm, these friends from Camp Jened spearheaded the disability rights movement that helped secure life-changing accessibility. 

The Death of Stalin (2017):

A comic drama set in 1953 Moscow, The Death of Stalin highlights what happens after Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin (Adrian McLoughlin) takes ill and dies--the members of his Council of Ministers scramble for power. 

The Juniper Tree (1990):

Writer director Nietchka Keene turns fable into art film in The Juniper Tree, landscape sets the mood for story of two sisters, Margit (Bjork) and Katia (Bryndis Petra Bragadottir) fleeing persecution after their mother is killed for practicing witchcraft. More than the complicated love story, Iceland takes center stage in this atmospheric film. 

Notable Films Watched in 2020: January

 

Notable Films of 2020: January

The Laundryman (Dir. Chung Lee, 2015): A-Gu (Tang Su) enlists a group of contract killers while disguised as the owner of a laundry service. One of them, code-named "No. 1, Greenfield Lane" (Hsiao-chuan Chang), is haunted by the ghosts of his victims. He seeks help from Lin Hsiang (Regina Wan), a psychic. Lin helps him get rid of the ghosts, but the laundry hides secrets more than she bargains for. What "No. 1, Greenfield Lane" runs away from turns out to be the ghosts from his past. 

Yomeddine (Dir. Abu Bakr Shawky, 2018): Coptic leper Beshay (Rady Gamal) and his orphaned apprentice Obama (Ahmed Abdelhafiz) leave the confines of their leper colony for the first time and embark on a journey across Egypt to search for what is left of their families. 

 Whisky (Dir. Juan Pablo Rebella, Pablo Stoll, 2005): When his long-lost brother Herman (Jorge Bolani) resurfaces, Jacobo (Andrés Pazos), desperate to prove his life has added up to something, looks to scrounge up a wife. He turns to Marta (Mirella Pascual), an employee at his sock factory, with whom he has a prickly relationship.

 In the Theatre: 

1917 (Dir. Sam Mendes, 2019): During World War I, two British soldiers -- Lance Cpl. Schofield (George MacKay) and Lance Cpl. Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman) -- receive seemingly impossible orders. In a race against time, they must cross over into enemy territory to deliver a message that could potentially save 1,600 of their fellow comrades -- including Blake's own brother. Stylistic elements make this derivative war drama worth watching.

Love and Gratitude this Holiday Season!

Hi Dear Ones,

Despite the pandemic, the year 2020 has brought many joys here in Charleston, beyond dog walks, schoolwork, meetings, appointments, research, and workouts. 

In this season of gratitude and love, I am thankful for small things like these:

• curbside pickup and online ordering 

• climate pledge friendly products 

• the sun 

• peanut butter 

• year-round work in the garden 

• An election day holiday in Illinois!

• To-do lists 

• That huge buck running through a backyard 

• Hikes in the woods 

• My favorite prayer: “Help us all to walk more gently on your earth and live more gently with each other. Amen.” 

 • That hum my dog makes in the back of the throat when she eats or feels me hitting just the right spot behind her ear. 

• four beans growing on the plant I saved from the frost now sitting in my backroom window 

• changing the part in my hair 

• And you! 

Thank you for all you do. Please know Dolly and I are sending you much love!

A Few more Statements of Thanks

11/16/20: Can I be helpful for cooking? Chili, quinoa, and broccoli to go with tofu dogs. 

 11/17/20: So glad I finished a video for the Green Team today! Thanks, indeed, for the time to complete this. 

 11/18/20: Thanks for students and their hard work! 

11/19/20: Today I am so thankful for a warm sunny day and Jazzercise online. 

 11/20/20: Thank you for the wonderful hike at Fox Ridge State Park! 

 11/21/20: I am thankful for today’s e-devotion from Wesley Methodist Church: “Help us all to walk more gently on your earth and live more gently with each other. Amen.”

Thanks for the First Half of November

 

11/1/20: Thank you for continuing virtual church services, even after you resume an in-person meeting! 

11/2/20: Thanks to an understanding Zoom book study group for How to be an Anti-Racist, who all allowed me to turn off my video after talking with family members planning to celebrate Thanksgiving in a large group during Covid. 

 11/3/20: Today I am thankful for peanut butter, yummy peanut butter that makes apples transform into decadent treats. Spread a little peanut butter on a flax, oat bran, and whole wheat pita, add a little all fruit jam, and you have a dessert made in heaven. Delicious! 

 11/4/20: Our Illinois Governor and legislature voted in election day as a holiday this year, so I am thankful I was able to enjoy the unseasonably warm November day, cleaning out vegetable beds in the garden and trimming a few branches. It felt good to be outside, even getting in a short bike ride to mail a card and benefits form and enjoying my long dog walks even more! 

 11/5/20: Thank you for summer in November for happy dog walks and time to work in the garden after school. 

 11/6/20: Thank you for a fun RISE Conference committee, who all make it a celebration on Zoom when we meet. Thank you for long drives and new discoveries and spurts of research creativity, too!  

11/7/20: Thank you for a quick morning without ablutions to prepare me for a fun morning of raking and blowing leaves for our Helping Hands day. 

 11/8/20: Thanks to the continuing good weather, I’m digging into my summer clothes for church dresses and shorts. 11/9/20: Thanks for one more day of sunny 70s giving me a perfect day to wash windows, mulch leaves with my mower, and naturally fertilize my garden beds with compost! 

11/10/20: Thanks for a good Tuesday of excellent grading, class prep, and reading. 

11/11/20: Today I am thankful for completing tasks and checking off items on my to-do list. 

11/12/20: I am thankful for sunshine today and good walks and students who show up for conferences. 

11/13/20: I am thankful for time today. With grading completed, I started creating a video for the Green Team at.Charleston’s Wesley United Methodist Church. 

 11/14/20: My thankful moment today happened on a drive into the country where we saw a huge buck running through a backyard in that rich neighborhood on the hill above the horse farm.

11/15/20: Thanks to November rain and wind to blow it away and blow in the sun for a few more days of fall. 

Life in Two Lines

Even though work overwhelms me now, each day begins with journaling--in my list journal I fill in as the day progresses and my two-line journal recently filled with little things I give thanks for. 

That means this blog has been on hiatus, overshadowed by online teaching responsibilities, student Zoom conferences lasting till 10:30 at night, constant responding, and revised lesson plans. Because our tenure includes service and research here, my weeks are also filled with meetings--Making Excellence Inclusive RISE Conference meetings, creative writing committee meetings, department meetings, English education meetings, and too many others to count. 

Yet, I still add to this meeting list each week, participating in a church book study reading How to be an Antiracist and two church committees--Church and Society and Green Team.

So, I'm making excuses for missing two weeks of blogging in October and waiting until November 15 for my first blog this month.

That's all I can say. 

October Thanks

 

10/25/20: I am thankful for the Golden Rule, to love my neighbor no matter what, knowing that loving them doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with them, nor does it mean I condone violent behavior from any of them. But I can still love them and hope that love will change their hearts. 

10/26/20: I am thankful for Michael Babcock and ITS and student interns able to help with projects.

10/27/20: I am thankful for curbside pickup and online ordering, keeping me safe during Covid and providing my neighbors with jobs. 

 10/28/20: I am thankful for Benefits and phone counseling and opportunities to retire when I can still enjoy it. 10/29/20: I am thankful for climate pledge friendly products. 

 10/30/20: I am thankful for the sun. 

 10/31/20: Today I am thankful for long dog walks—and my dog.

MEI RISE

The Making Excellence Inclusive 

 RISE Conference 

 exhausted me today 

 even though, 

I only moderated

 two sessions on Zoom. 

 The responsibility weighed on me 

so much, I took an afternoon nap. 

 I’m not sure why 

it made me so anxious. 

 I use Zoom regularly with my students, 

 but I looked at 

the multiple steps 

 in the 

single-spaced 

 two-paged

 instructions 

 and worried.

Doggy Tooth Brush Emergency

Since I had 

all that dental work 

as a kid, 

 I’m obsessed 

with brushing my teeth. 

 Well, two of my toothbrushes 

 fell apart so quickly, 

 I didn’t have a spare 

But I found a handy solution

an unused 

in-the-package 

dog toothbrush! 

 Yes, 

 I brushed my teeth 

 with Dolly Dog’s toothbrush.

 

Although focused primarily on separating humans from nonhuman nature, Etcoff also notes that at least one animal “exhibits a form of dressing” (6): the bowerbird which builds and decorates a bower to attract a mate. Etcoff’s admission in some ways contradicts her assertion that the adornments of dress are uniquely human. It also broaches questions that may connect our evolutionary paths more explicitly to those of the animal world: Are there other species of animals that use ornaments outside their bodies for decoration or disguise? And do these examples begin to redefine our own connections to the natural world and evolution? Do they also reshape the purpose behind the changes we make to our bodies and selves? 

For us, the body modifications explored in American Mary do not separate humans from nature. They demonstrate all too well our connections to it. The multiple species of the male bowerbird, for example, build bowers consisting “of a thatched twig tunnel forming an avenue” decorated with bones, shells, berries, nuts, and stones the male displays to potential mates. They arrange the objects in regular patterns, creating an illusion that seems to increase their size, according to biologists Laura Kelley and John Endler. The bowers are works of art meant only for seducing female bowerbirds, not for nesting and clearly require objects external to the birds to build them. David Attenborough’s documentary, Bowerbirds: The Art of Seduction (2012) highlights the behaviors of multiple species of bowerbirds and demonstrates how deliberately the birds place their artifacts. In one scene, for example, Attenborough moves objects, and a male bowerbird immediately replaces it. 

 Other animals decorate their bodies rather than create external bowers. Sandhill Cranes preen their feathers with mud, turning their gray bodies red or brown during spring and summer. The purpose behind the preening may be related to breeding because it ends when the feathers molt in the fall. And the looper caterpillar ornaments its body with plant parts from the flowers on which it is feeding. According to Dr. Miklos Treiber, the loopers change the flower parts when they move to another flower, as well. Here the plant pieces act as camouflage. Dr. Treibe hypothesized that the looper’s ability to change disguises allows it to have a much more varied diet than some other caterpillars because it isn’t restricted to eating only those flowers or plant parts that it resembles in appearance. Multiple videos document the looper’s amazing camouflage.

Places I Probably Slept Part II

On raked green carpet 

in my best friend’s rec room 

after singing 

“Up against the Wall” 

 against a wall

in the backyard 

where one time 

a neighbor and I 

convinced my brother

to strip inside a tent 

to streak around the cul-de-sac

in a pup tent under a tree 

raccoons breaking into a backpack 

stealing bites of pepperoni 

from a side pocket

on a folding cushioned chair 

just small enough 

to fit in my Escort Hatchback

in too many beds 

 after watching model trains 

swirl around a bar

after listening to airplanes 

 land near a restaurant

after ripping off a beltloop 

to get rid of that lock you latched

on the couch where back cushions 

hug me to sleep

on a Blue Sky Motel mattress 

being eaten from the inside by mice.

Places I Probably Slept

I too have slept in many places 

on beds I chose 

or were chosen for me 

 as an infant in a wooden crib 

 perched beside a white wall 

 finger-painting from a diaper 

 as a toddler on a double 

 where my sister tricked me 

 into making the bed 

 a game hiding 

under the sheets

talking in my sleep 

 laughing pigs have no tails 

on a Quaker frame 

slats smashing to the ground 

 as I rolled on my side 

 scaring my brother 

 throwing his stuffed animal 

across the room

in a low-ceilinged attic 

pulling blankets up 

around my neck 

to ward off Barnabas Collins 

 from Dark Shadows

American Mary and the Nature of Change

 

At a turning point in the contemporary feminist “Frankenstein” film American Mary, Ruby (Paula Lindberg)—one of Mary’s future body modification clients—explains why she wants to change her appearance: “I don’t think it’s really fair that God gets to choose what we look like on the outside,” she proclaims. Ruby’s declaration at first seems to align well with scholars’ assertions that humans decorate and modify their bodies to separate themselves from the animals and nature, for, as genetic researcher Gillian M. Morriss-Kay argues, “Creating visual art is one of the defining characteristics of the human species.” Morriss-Kay agrees, suggesting, “The earliest known evidence of ‘artistic behaviour’ [sic] is of human body decoration, including skin colouring [sic] with ochre and the use of beads, although both may have had functional origins.”

 

Ruby’s desire to determine what her body looks like on the outside seems to take this characteristic just a little further, since, as anthropologist Enid Schildkrout of the Smithsonian states, “there is no logical reason to separate permanent forms of body art, like tattoos, scarification, piercing, or plastic surgery, from temporary forms, such as makeup, clothing, or hairstyles.” More extreme forms of body modification convey information about a person’s identity in ways similar to the more traditional and temporary choices people make to color their hair and shave their faces.

 

For Ruby, a fashion designer and owner of Ruby Real Girl designs, surgically changing her body provides some of the same results as fashion and makeup, except that those changes are more permanent. It seems to separate her from her natural “God-given” form and from the natural world it represents and inhabits. The claim is that animals change their appearance only because evolution has determined those changes ensure survival, both physical and sexual. And those changes rely on internal biological responses rather than deliberate additions from the external environment. A cuttlefish may change the color and shape of its skin and body to hide from predators, hypnotize prey, and seduce potential sex partners, but these survival adaptations are evolutionary rather than learned behaviors and draw on biology rather than the incorporation of external objects.

 

Yet we argue that this separation between humans and animals rests on a limited perspective of the natural world. Although the body modification illustrated in American Mary may amplify the drive for individuality found in makeup and hair changes, it does not necessarily separate humans from animals. Instead, it replicates the behaviors of animals from the bowerbird to particular species of spiders and caterpillars. When characters in American Mary modify their bodies to express their individuality and survive, they don’t separate themselves from nature; instead they align themselves with the animal world. When either animals or humans change their appearance, they gain an evolutionary advantage that assures their reproductive and biological persistence.

 

Enough

 

“You don’t have to believe in God. 

You just need to believe that you are not God.” 

Now that is a quote I can get my arms around. 

Although I do believe in God,

I definitely do not believe I am God. 

I do not believe I am God-like. 

In fact, I believe we are all equals,

 including those animals and plants outside my window.

That doesn’t mean we are the same. 

It just means we all have an equal right to life 

Rain and wind blew over Resurrection Lilies today, 

surprises more like amaryllis than lily 

leaning into grass on broad brittle stems 

like salmon bones breaking under teeth.

I know about those salmon bones 

because my father loved salmon loaf and salmon cakes, 

meals built from a can of pink and brown  

reaching “enough” with bread or flour and egg.

Joy

With joy I welcomed the rain last night, 11/2 inches of watering I won’t have to do to keep my flowers and vegetables growing. I may have broken a few purple cone flowers, but now they decorate my kitchen table, adding life to the piles of newspapers I must remember to place in the recycling bin tomorrow. 

My little life is full of beauty like that, from a dog’s smile to a squash plant’s flowers. To these colors and textures, I’ll add the songs of crickets and frogs outside my window.

What brings me joy? Right now, my joy seems limited to my garden, my dog walks, and my brief escapes with Joe. 

So let’s get specific… 

Watching: 

• bees feeding on my purple cone flowers, 
• a swallowtail butterfly laying eggs on a spice bush and pollinating a butterfly bush, 
• beans (lots of beans) climbing up a fence, 
• tomatoes turning red on the vine, 
• a volunteer squash or pumpkin plant (not sure which) thriving in a pepper bed, 
• cucumbers filling with water and ballooning into fruit, 
• zucchini edging into a yard, hummingbirds and orioles drinking from a feeder… Okay, there are many more joyful moments than I thought.

Butterflies arrived today, floating between feeding and nesting as I watch through a glass door and nearly smile when really what I want to do is cry.

 

Not Yet

 

When should I say “not yet” instead of “no?” 

When asked if I’m retired, of course, or if I met my goals, then “not yet” sounds like a typical and acceptable response. 

But how about when asked absurd and sometimes rude questions like do you have any children? 

• Have you remarried? 
• Are you in love? 

Yes, I think “not yet” works just fine here, even if I am post-menopausal, long-time divorced, and introverted. But I don’t think the answer needs to be personalized. 

I think we can answer “not yet” as a more hopeful response than “no” to question like these: Can we overcome racism? 

• Is it possible to solve the repercussions of climate change? 
• Can we live in peace? 
• Of course, we might need to answer “not yet” when those kids in the back seat ask, for the fiftieth time, if we’re there yet, too.

Reading and Me

I have always loved to read and was lucky enough to grow up in a family whose parents read. In fact, my father not only collected books, he even sold encyclopedias for awhile, keeping the sample sets of Childcraft and World Book encyclopedias in his office library. That's why I had already read the reading book when I arrived in the first grade classroom. And that's why my teacher resented me. 

If I'm not mistaken, our First Grade Reader was the same one Toni Morrison quoted in The Bluest Eye, with Dick and Jane, those happy white children, getting into trouble and living the American Dream. That was one of the books on my father's office shelves, so I read it the summer before I started school. Mom had been reading parts of the Jungle Book to us, and I fell in love with stories, even thinking of Mowgli's flute and hearing the flute dance as I write this. 

In my world, the story lives only as fantasy, a story as false as the exotic white-washed Mowgli of Kipling's Jungle Book. I see the racist portrayals now--and the gender stereotypes that persist in cartoons, animated films, and picture books. But I also see the words, the beautiful words like "friend" and "play" and "laugh" and "smile." Good words that have bad effects when their placed in a particular order.

But I'm not getting to my story about my first grade teacher putting me in a corner with a different book because I'd already read the primer she assigned. 

I love to read and have since I dived into my first story. Really, pictures didn't move me as much as words, like Mom reading Jungle Book and my memories of Dick and Jane. 

Morrison's Prelude to The Bluest Eye begins with a quote from the first grade primer:

Here is the house. It is green and white. It has a red door. It is very pretty. Here is the family. Mother, father, Dick and Jane live in the green and white house. They are very happy. See Jane. She has a red dress. She wants to play. Who will play with Jane? See the cat. It goes meow-meow. Come and play. Come play with Jane. The kitten will not play. See Mother. Mother is very nice. Mother will you play with Jane? Mother laughs. Laugh, mother laugh. See Father. He is big and strong. Father will you play with Jane? Father is smiling. Smile, Father, smile. See the dog run. Run, dog, run. Look, look. Here comes a friend. The friend will play with Jane. They will play a good game. Play, Jane, play. 

In The Bluest Eye, the words passage loses its punctuation, and its meaning is truncated by the racist world to makes Pecola want blue eyes.

Ceredo, West Virginia

Ceredo Grade School sits empty now, the brick one-story village school teaching only 199 students when it closed in 2018. Ceredo still owns the building, though, and plans to use it for overflow elementary and adult fitness classes. 

I walked past the building a couple of summers ago when my niece graduated from Ceredo-Kenova High School and couldn't help thinking about my first grade teacher, a vaguely blonde woman who didn't approve of my too-high reading level but made sure I looked good for picture day. This odd conflict between responses made no sense to me then. All I wanted was a teacher who liked me, and I did whatever I could think of to make that happen, with smiles and laughter and contriteness. She took me in the classroom bathroom once and spanked my bottom because of my chatter--or at least I thought that's what it was--and I was so sorry so sorry so sorry, even though I really didn't know what I'd done wrong. 

On picture day, my sister Colleen let me ride to school on the back of her bicycle, not because she wanted to, but because our mother wanted us both to bring home good photos, and biking to school meant less time in the hot sun and more curls leftover from that sleepless night wearing wires in our hair. I guess they weren't really cylindered wires, but those rollers secured with bobby pins cut into my scalp so much I counted the dots on the wallpaper just to cope with that barbed fencing poking into my brain. 

Of course, that morning that started out sunny didn't stay that way. Instead, we rode into a wall of rain between the IGA and the school, leaving our curls looking more like mops when we sloshed into the building. Colleen left me in a hurry, rushing off to her fourth grade class. And I dripped my way into the first grade room hoping for a towel or extra shirt to dry me. Much to my surprise, that teacher who didn't like me met me with a hair dryer and a curling iron, stopping class to dry my hair before the photographer arrived. She probably did the same for all of the other girls arriving wet after the rain. But I just remember her singling me out, taking the time to make sure that page of photos I took home to mom looked fine. 

Japanese Beetles

A skeletal effect

they call it

tree of bones

leftovers 

showing something 

lived

because they 

died

pocked leaves

bringing back

a joyful dog

racing around

a backyard

carrying 

her brother’s 

thigh

a happy game of fetch

Just Days

I don't remember many Independence Day celebrations, mostly because they weren't very memorable. A pleasant memory did happen in Galesburg, IL, watching fireworks from a paddle boat in the middle of Lake Storey. And that is really the extent of the memory. Pleasantly floating on a dark lake while sky flowers exploded above me, I forgot my pre-teen problems, even broken teeth and high water pants. I think someone paddled out there with me, but I don't remember who. I just really liked the contrast--dark quiet broken by cracks of colored light.

I think most 4th of Julys meant dad grilled bratwurst over charcoal while mom did the rest.  But that food memory really stands out when everyone but me lived in Gahanna, Ohio, because I was teaching high school about 100 miles to the North and West. On the 4th, I'd drive up in my Escort, probably carrying a G.D. Ritzy's garden salad to avoid the greasy brat. One summer I came back home and met old college friends in downtown Columbus to watch fireworks flash over the Scioto River. We sat and drank white wine spritzers made with Faygo Frosh and Gallo Chablis while we watched the display shot in time to the 1812 Overture.

Here in Charleston, IL, I remember one fun 4th of July before Mattoon and Charleston combined their fireworks shows out at the airport. It was the year my husband (now ex-husband) and I moved to Charleston, and I really thought we had a chance. It was a cicada year, and our house bordered a wooded ravine, so the hum of wings set the season's scene. As really the first house in Heritage Woods, just past the student apartments and the tiny playground, we easily walked to the campus pond where they lit off flaming peonies and a brocade of trailing stars.

Most of my Independence Days, though, are just days, with maybe a quick drive to the hospital across from the airport to see the sky fill with color quickly enough to get home before at least one dog jumps through a screen and runs away.

Two-Line Poems

This time 

rain brought 

a gopher 

out of its burrow, 

a race 

across a road 

to the acre 

beside the creek, 

high grasses 

lines of new trees 

putting roots into 

flood plain 

still soft enough 

to disappear 

before that woman 

with her dog 

crosses the bridge. 

Less than 

a 50 yard dash

a doe watches, 

face the color of Florida sand, 

not Gulf but Atlantic 

where sea traffic 

tans grains 

from that rice white 

to a yellow brown glow, 

a bright contrast 

to the still green 

soy beans 

under foot 

a shade dimming 

as she turns 

and waves goodbye. 

If I close my eyes long enough

that fan on an end table 

rolls up the aisle

offering water

pretzels

white noise

letting me drift

over pages of my kindle

missed paragraphs

filled with cat whistles

above the clouds.

Cli-Fi and Human Approaches to Ecology

Some contemporary monstrous cli-fi films embrace human approaches to ecology. The human ecology movement grew out of the work of Ellen Swallow Richards, who translated Haeckel’s work from its original German and, according to Robert Clarke, introduced the concept of ecology in the United States. Richards, an MIT chemist, defined human ecology as "the study of the surroundings of human beings and the effects they produce on the lives of men" (1910). Since she viewed humans as part of nature, she considered urban problems like air and water pollution as products of human activity imposed on the environment and, subsequently, best resolved by humans.

 

 

Although they also highlight a masculine action hero, both The Road (2009) and The Book of Eli stress recovery from Anthropocene apocalypses and the cannibalism at first associated with survival. Directed by Darren Aronofsky, Noah (2014) continues the human focus found in films such as No Blade of Grass. In this rewriting of the Biblical Genesis story, Noah (Russell Crowe) gains the trust of God and his “Watchers” by contesting the environmental disasters caused by Tubal-cain (Ray Winstone), a descendent of Cain. According to the film’s opening, Cain and his offspring “build a great industrial civilization” that “devoured the world.” Instead of exploiting the earth’s resources, Noah teaches his family to live sustainably, protecting nature as a steward rather than a figurative rapist. As a descendent of Seth, he “defend[s] and protect[s] what is left of creation,” according to the opening narration.

 

But Noah also serves as a super-masculine action hero protecting his family and the Earth at any cost. In this reboot of the Biblical story, Noah decisively revises God’s plan to rebuild all life, including humans, by eliminating wives and children from the Ark. In this version, Noah believes that because “everything that was beautiful, everything that was good we shattered, mankind must end.” After the flood ends, Noah tells his family, when his adopted infertile daughter Ila (Emma Watson) and the last of his sons Japheth (Leo McHugh Carroll) die, so will humanity. In Noah’s mind, humans will only repeat their mistakes and destroy creation if given the chance.

Instead, Noah’s grandfather Methuselah (Anthony Hopkins) has miraculously restored Ila’s fertility. When she gives birth to twins girls, Noah cannot kill his granddaughters, so human ecology prevails. In Noah as in the Bible, however, it is a higher power that intervenes to cleanse the world and provide the space for a new beginning after the great flood. As the narrator explains, Noah and his family must “be fruitful and multiply and replenish the Earth.” Most of humanity is destroyed, but the remaining extended family serves as a curious genesis for the rise of human populations around the world.

What Means Home, Part I

So many times I've written about ecology, literally the study of homes, emphasizing the influences of the local on all life--not just humans and animals, but plants and single-celled creatures. Only in poetry, though, do I insert my own localized experiences, mostly because my own view of home grows out of multiple locations. 

When folks ask about my hometown, I usually say something general and superficial like "I lived all over the place." But really I suspect those folks are asking something beyond, "Where do you live?" since a home means more than that (at least I think so and even argue that about our "sense of place" in my research). 

So what means home to me? Even though most of us haven't lived there since 1968, my family thinks of West Virginia as home, so much so that my Stepdad bought subscriptions of West Virginia Magazine for all of us. And I certainly write about West Virginia in poems looking at my father's first church and the accidents I had there--falling off stages, running into bricks, meeting a motorcycle at a street corner. 

But when I think about WV, it seems more like a box of memories than a home. The house we lived in there feels cold and hard in my mind, with cracked wood floors, a sagging mattress shared with an older sister, and tight walls that seemed to block out the sun. If the tiny WV town had been my home, I think, how could I have grown?

Dolly Dog and the Snake

Yesterday

A black lab
lay down
in the center 
of tall grass
waiting
watching
twitching

not for 
that chipmunk
eating 
suet
strawberries
potatoes
seedlings

but for 
a black snake
shining
scales
coiled 
head erect
to move

Both 
silent and still
they cross 
species 
class
with muscles 
poised

while 

all of us

gaze

Words from a Tiny Journal

Trouble

Now that's a word, a plea to make trouble, to save the planet

A board game with funny cone pieces

a cannibal movie with a Colonial source and cause

Getting in trouble for all those food sins

Corners of pie crust

brownies

graduation cake

Finger fulls of sugar from the bowl.

Props

Honestly

I can't remember 

when I last had props

under me

support for work or play

One of my favorite professors

called me too self-sufficient

to marry

and maybe he got it right

All I know is that today

and every day

I'll clean, cook, walk, work, play

prop-free.

Saddle

Getting up and doing

is my saddle.

I don't ride a horse but do ride a bike

and look forward to hours of riding

without care or work.

Dolly dog keeps me sane

but also keeps me off my bike

Dogs keep you walking

Bikes keep you smiling.

Word

Yes

I want to have a word

write a word

give my word

work in MS Word

Or something like that.

The word on the street

is that someone

didn't keep their word

What does Word Up really mean?

Do we always have to have words?

Are there really words of the wiser?

Was the Word God?