Daily Blues & Views

About two blocks from my home is a lovely pale yellow bungalow.  It features perfectly matched shrubs and a well-tended landscape.  The house has character.  But it is not the house that draws me there, but rather another little house right on the property. Next to the little walkway that leads to the front door is a tiny home standing on a post.  It's not really a home but it does house something.  Books.  It is one of many "Free Libraries" around my town.  I'm sure you can find a few in your neighborhood as well. Here, people walking by can stop and open the glass door/window and browse the contents.  If you see something you like or want...take it.  A Free Library is just that.  I'm sure some folks take the books for their own shelves, while others no doubt return what they've borrowed. This morning I placed three books on the little shelf of the Free Library.  In a week or so I'll go back to see if any are there and if it ...

I walk the same streets,                  looking for character and finding                  irregular families and those alone who mark their trails with institutional voices. This would be a good place to get depressed, that is if it weren't already in the air, New attendees think that a quaint spirit is somehow in the coffee, in the movie theater, or in what passes for a bookstore. The motorcycle gang eats sushi before polishing their leather, they attend sessions in the county medical clinic.  Just like I said, they smile at you and try to pretend their machines aren't too loud, or too blinding. Come walk with me, we are sure to see a child who is delighted to be hiding under a tree.

I have three distinct memories of Richard.  The first one is a first-grade class picture.  He is easy to find because he's a head taller than everyone else and he's smiling.  We are all smiling as best we can but Richard is the only one whose puffed cheeks resemble a squirrel. Richard did not live with his parents.  The only one of us who didn't come from a postwar suburban household, he shared a small garage apartment with his grandfather and younger brother.  I don't think I ever heard his grandfather speak, but I did see him on occasion because they lived across the street from Bob's, the neighborhood barbershop.  He had the look of an old German man. Richard's last name confirmed that.  His actions screamed frugality. There was very little money for anything according to Richard. Richard and his brother were always well groomed, but not up on the current trends in clothing.  They must have struggled along and their grandfather looked to be w...

They were talking very low, but even though I was a few steps ahead of them I heard the anger and self-righteous demeanor of their voices.  I heard their words too.  They said we were "fetishizing pain."  That was hardly our motive.  Who does that? Well, I know, but we were interested in things like history, remembering, and reclaiming. This conversation occurred during an intense summer institute that brought teachers from three parts of the country to discover and "make" American Literature.  The two whispering about fetishizing pain were referring to a film we had just watch: Ethnic Notions by Marlon Riggs. Ethnic Notions is a look at the history and development of racial stereotypes in America.  It is most informative, but it is also brutally honest and often difficult for many people to watch.  The shocking content features the origin and evolution of everything from the iconic racist images of Sambo, the Pickaninny, Mammy, Aunt Jemima...