The Crab Chronicles

Pondering Boyhood

My Netflix copy of the movie Boyhood is sitting in the mailbox right now and ever since I finished watching it last night, I have been thinking about it.

I guess that's the mark of a good movie but in actuality, it may say more about the fact that a movie I really wanted to like I couldn't really like, despite the fascinating way it was made. The story is basically the life of Mason, a boy who is raised by a single mom from age 6 to age 18 -- familiar territory to me, a single mom raising a boy. The writer/director Richard Linklater spent 12 years making the film, so instead of using several different actors to portray the main character, he just filmed over that 12 year period of time. 

When I heard that the movie had been nominated for a bunch of Academy Awards, I watched the trailer and then ordered it from Netflix.

I guess the main things that bother me about the film are going to make me sound very "un-cool" but so be it. I was raised by a banker and a stay-at-home mother in the South in the 1960's and 70's. We went to church on Sundays, cheered on college football teams and watched MASH and All In the Family as a family. We had a cabin on the lake where we went in the summer. My parents voted Republican.

That description of my family doesn't begin to describe everything of course. There were fights sometimes. There was tension. My dad was a bit of a control freak and he could be very hard on my brother. My mom and I have totally opposite personalities so there was some tension there.Yet, my brother and I always knew we were loved and we were secure.

As I watched Boyhood, there were so many ways that I felt dismayed by the portrayal of that family life. The mom went from man to man and never made a good match. The son came in from a night of drinking and smoking pot and she not only didn't fuss at him, she acted like it was no big deal. The father (although rather unstable job-wise) seemed like a guy that could otherwise do no wrong - his character was really unrealistic in so many ways. The kids never seemed to act out or have problems in school, or show much reaction to their chaotic lives, except for a couple of times when Mason's sister was mouthy and disrespectful to the mom.

Spoiler alert - if you want to see the movie, you may want to skip the rest of this.

One of the mom's boyfriends was supposed to be an Iraq War veteran, and his portrayal seemed fine right up until one point. He was talking about his experiences in Iraq, and someone asked how the Iraqi people felt about the American Army's presence there, and he said "Oh they said we were just there for the oil." Good grief, way to inject your liberal viewpoint there, Linklater. My brother served a year in Iraq. Most of the Iraqi people were happy the Americans went in there and ousted Saddam Hussein, happy to live free of that tyranny, glad to have their country stabilized, finally. I'm sure there were insurgents there in 2008 when Brother was there, but most of the Iraqi people he and the other soldiers interacted with with were pleased with the American presence there. He was very interested in that, so he talked to a lot of different guys. He didn't base that opinion on a couple of random encounters. I've never heard a veteran say they were there just "for the oil." Linklater (the writer/director) did a poor job of portraying that vet.

Just like the movie Avatar was spoiled for me because it portrayed all military personnel as insensitive jerks, this movie was tainted by that one ridiculous and unrealistic line.

Also, the movie was set in Texas. None of the main characters had anything remotely approaching a Texas accent.

The last part of the movie showed some behavior that I found disturbing. Young Mason allowed to drive a couple of hours to another city to see his sister, then he was drinking beer [at about age 16 or 17] in a public bar. He had sex with his girlfriend in his sister's dorm room. He casually used drugs.

Maybe that's mild these days. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned. But my kids would've never been allowed to do that at that age.

My final bone to pick -

Nobody in this movie ever told each other "I love you." My family may not be ideal, but we have always expressed our love for each other, every day. I felt sorry for these kids that didn't kiss their parents goodbye or say I Love You to them.

But I'm not saying don't see the movie. See it. Make up your own mind.

This is the trailer:

 

Incredible Love

I saw this story, Real-Life 'Notebook" Couple Dies Hand-In-Hand and I thought, what an incredible story, this couple who died within hours of each other.

I have been privileged in my life to know similar stories. The one I know best is the story of my aunt and uncle who died within hours of each other, December 23, 2008. My uncle Bobby had had Parkinson's for years but my aunt was always healthy. He was doing poorly and hospice had been called in, and there was a hospital bed in their family room. My aunt was sitting on the couch and just died, of a massive heart attack. They took her to the hospital, came back, and my uncle had passed away.

He didn't want to live without her. They had been in love for more than 50 years and had the best marriage I've ever seen. Below, they are in the photo with their son Robert. They also had two daughters.

photo credit Don Hasty

If I could wave a magic wand and wish anything for my children it would be this - that they could find a partner for life that would give them the same kind of love and devotion my aunt and uncle had for each other. Actually, even half as much love and devotion would be more than enough.

Another story I know is my dad's parents. They married late in life but had a very strong bond.

My grandmother Cordelia spent years nursing my grandfather because he had emphysema. They lived on his social security and really didn't have much. When he died, though, she couldn't bear to be in the house without him at night so she would go next door and sleep in her neighbor's guestroom. Within about 2 years after he died, she died.

I wish I had known her. Mom said I am a lot like her -- from the reddish-brown hair, to the sound of her laugh.

Below, the only photo I have of Thompson and Cordelia. I think that's my uncle Bobby with them. [Yes, I had two uncles named Bobby...]

Below, a shot I like much better. She's holding my cousin Frann, the grandchild she kept all the time and knew the best. Now Frann has grandchildren. [Not sure why Cordelia had her dress pulled up and her slip showing, likely just because it was hot and the house wasn't air-conditioned..]

Pie and Dresses

Much to my shock, I am looking out at my back yard and there is snow on the ground. I was so hopeful we would finish this winter without seeing any snow. Last year we had the nightmare that was Snowpocalypse, but I was able to just hunker down here at home for that.

I heard a lot of stories, though -- one of my cousins was trapped in his car for more than 8 hours. A friend of mine was forced to spend 3 days at the home of a friend because he couldn't get anywhere near his house. Kids were trapped in schools. 

Ironically, last week snow/ice was predicted on Tuesday morning and there was nothing. Nada. Mike's school was delayed 2 hours anyway. This morning, at 7:15 when I checked, snow was falling like crazy and there was no delay in school. I told Mike to go back to sleep, anyway. I didn't want him driving on these roads. Better an unexcused absence than a car accident.

PASTRY FAIL

Last night I decided to make a quiche with shrimp and asparagus. Sounds yummy right?! I have a great quiche recipe. I made the filling and pulled the ready-made crust out of the freezer and set it on the kitchen counter, than went to the bathroom. When I came back, 2 minutes later, Lola had pulled the crust off the counter and was eating it, on the family room floor.

I must admit I over-reacted to that. I hollered at her. She fled to Mother's room which is her sanctuary. I later apologized for hollering and we made up. She is just a puppydog, after all. [What, you wouldn't apologize to a dog? Shame on you. They have feelings.]

I didn't have any more pie crusts in the freezer. So I did something I've only attempted a couple of times in my life -- I made homemade pie crust. I know the general idea - butter, flour, ice water. I cussed and threw a lot of flour around and finally ended up with a raggedy crust, of sorts, on the bottom of the pan I was using. It was edible.

Some day, when I have loads of spare time [!!] I will learn pastry. It's an art. I may even buy a rolling pin and stop using a glass.

OSCARS

I know you're dying to know my thoughts on the Oscars. I've watched them every single year since 1972. Michael was supposed to watch with me but he got called in to work - and he should've known he had to work, but he had failed to check the schedule and so he ended up going in late. I was so ticked. I had made boiled shrimp for dinner, and a batch of brownies for dessert. I ended up watching the Oscars by myself.

It was depressing.

I had only seen a couple of nominated movies. I have gotten where I just don't like watching movies in the theater. I know that sounds fuddy duddy but so be it. At home I can wear pajamas and stop the movie whenever I want. I saw a story on TV the other day that said theater attendance has really dropped off. Well, most folks have nice high def TVs and DVD or Blueray players, so the quality is far better than it used to be. It's not surprising we prefer home viewing.

I used to say I was always willing to see movies in the theater that were big budget extravaganzas of special effects, like Titanic or Avatar. They were certainly more impressive on the big screen.

Now, however, I prefer smaller movies, about humans rather than stuff that blows up.

I always enjoy seeing everyone's dresses. Below, this was by far my favorite dress.

So many of the dresses [like Jennifer Lopez's dress] were just super tacky, showing boobs and butts and gynecological areas better left as a mystery. I am always puzzled who women who can afford elegant, gorgeous dresses opt instead for tacky. If you want to see more of the dresses, click here.

Cooking Dinner In A War Zone

I love to watch cooking shows, but they are often terribly unrealistic.

Pioneer Woman always has a spotless kitchen, all the right ingredients, and loads of time. You don’t see her children running in and out with the dogs or the cats, poking their fingers into her food, loudly asking when dinner will be ready, complaining that they don’t like an ingredient, etc. No, they are all perfectly behaved and nobody complains.

[She never burns herself and yells SHEE-IT, either. Not that I ever do that…]

Here’s a typical memory of my early childhood -- and I had a stay-at-home mother. She would stand at the stove cooking dinner, drinking a drink and smoking a cigarette, with the phone propped so she could talk while she cooked. The dog would be nearby to catch anything the dropped on the floor. Bruce and I would be underfoot, bothering her.

After we moved to Knoxville, Dad’s trick was to call her and say “I’m bringing home Larry and Jerome for dinner, and we are all hungry.”

Many many times she had to completely re-think dinner when Dad called her like that. She had, at most, a half hour. There might be 4 pork chops that suddenly had to feed 6 people. Dad didn’t like casseroles, either. He ate them grudgingly.

[She developed a lot of tricks to deal with that situation, but I don’t know them. I will help her write a blog about that one of these days.]

Dad also wanted a hot meal at night. Rarely did we do sandwiches or something easy and fast. No ordering pizza, either, as he wouldn't eat it for many years.

left, 1971, me and Mom

Bruce was a good eater but I was picky. I mentally cringe now, thinking how awful I was as a kid. When we went to Shakey’s Pizza I would loudly declare that I wanted a pizza with NO tomato sauce. We didn’t eat much fast food but when we did, I demanded a perfectly plain cheeseburger. In those days, the burgers were pre-made and so they would have to scrape off the ketchup, onions, etc. I refused to eat a scraped burger.

I refused to eat anything with onions, or peppers.

I refused to eat a lot of things made by anyone other than Mama or Mamaw. I was highly suspicious of all other cooks, except my aunts.

My mother was never taught to cook by her own mother, so when she got married she had to learn fast. They were poor and couldn’t afford to eat out a lot. Mother could make tuna salad and jello salad. That was it.

They would eat at Dad’s mother’s house, at his brother’s house, etc. When they had to return the favor and invite people over, Dad would make spaghetti. His college roommate was Italian and had taught Dad how to make great spaghetti sauce, and Dad taught Mother, who improved the recipe. It’s not a fast or easy thing to make, though.

Mother learned to make food by the trial and error method.

She got Mamaw to explain how to make fried chicken, and Mother made it exactly the same way. It was terrible. Mamaw was famous for her fried chicken. After much anguish and failed attempts, Mother finally figured out by talking to someone other than Mamaw about it. She said that before you ever fry the meat, you salt it and let it rest for at least 30 minutes.

Un-salted fried chicken isn’t fit to eat. Looked nice, though. Mom and Dad would take it to church functions and put the beautiful plate of chicken on the table, then eat what other people had cooked and avoid it. My Uncle Jake always memorized the location of Mother’s chicken so he could avoid it. Once Mother learned the pre-salting method, though, her fried chicken became almost as renowned as Mamaw’s.

My grandmother always put the flour in a paper sack and put each piece of chicken in there and shook the sack to coat the chicken in flour evenly. Then she got an electric skillet full of hot Crisco and dropped in the pieces one by one, quickly.

I always marveled at Mamaw doing that and not burning herself. (She certainly never yelled SHEE-IT either.)

[I must admit I have never, ever made fried chicken even approaching the perfection of Mother’s or Mamaw’s. I do have a recipe I have figured out that makes tasty chicken, though. I soak the pieces in original Ranch dressing, then roll them in breadcrumbs and either fry or bake them. Baking is easier and less greasy.]

above, some of Mamaw's handwritten recipes

Anyway, back to cooking shows.

Giada and Ina and Ree always stand in perfectly clean kitchens, without TVs blaring, dogs barking, kids running in and out, etc. They haven’t worked all day in an office, or spent the entire day running around shopping, cleaning, dealing with carpools or after school activities. Maybe they worry about their hair looking good on camera, or their makeup, but trust me, they have no idea of the stress most moms face when trying to cook dinner.

Plus, they have all the best equipment.

I have such a serious case of mixer envy it’s not funny.

They all have these fabulous, expensive Kitchenaid mixers that do the work for you and cost more than my first car. I have a mixer bought at Service Merchandise in 1978, and you have to stand there with a spoon and watch it, and turn the bowl manually, and if the bowl is too full, whatever is in it gets all over me and the counter.

[Lola stands there and watches me, because I let her lick the bowl. Don’t judge. She does a good job and then the bowl goes into the dishwasher.]

Or there’s the cheapo hand mixer which doesn’t work as well, and I can’t always find the beaters.

[Anyone reading this who wants to make my mixing dreams come true, if you will buy me one of those fancy Kitchenaid stand mixers I will make you a homemade pound cake and ship it to you Fed-X.]

Seriously.

So listen up Cooking Channel and Food network. If you want a realistic cooking show, go see my friend Nicole, a single working mom with three kids; or my friend LeeAnn, a married mom with a full-time, demanding job and two kids with lots of activities; or my friend Cindy, with a tight budget and 5 kids who are all homeschooled. In fact, hang out at the homes of just about any of my friends. Then you will see the reality of trying to cook for a family, and all the variables that make it so challenging.

You will also see something that you never see on Giada or Ina’s shows, though – you will see love. You will see moms who are past tired, who love their kids and their husbands and who want to make nutritious meals everyone will like. You will see families struggling to pay bills, struggling to have decent sit-down meals, struggling to get homework done before bed, struggling to do the dishes and then have some quiet time to relax each night.

You will see heroes, in my book.

Nothing Is Taboo

Every night between 6 and 7 p.m. I cook dinner and watch the news. Otherwise I would have no idea what is going on in the world.

I have noticed something strange about this particular time period.

Every commercial during the nightly network newscast has something to do with being old. The target audience is all men with erectile dysfunction and women who wet their pants.

I wish I were kidding.

I find this commercial to be particularly annoying:

 

So the subtext here is that if you wear Tena adult diapers when you are singing obnoxiously loud in the car or laughing like a hyena in a theater, it won't matter if you wet your pants.

There's another commercial where a bunch of people are parading around the streets in their undies, celebrating wearing diapers and living life to the fullest.

And all these obnoxiously singing people or dancing people are IN THEIR THIRTIES. I'm sorry but if you are that young and you need diapers, you need to get medical help, not magic undies.

The Cialis commercials are a bit more subtle but what horrifies me is the language at the end.

 

"Side effects may include headache, upset stomach, backache or muscle ache." What if you have all the side effects? Yikes.

"To avoid long-term injury get medical help right away for an erection lasting more than 4 hours."

As one of my guy friends said "If I have an erection lasting more than 4 hours I'm calling all my friends and throwing a party!"

The visual there is frightening to most women.

But what if you have loss of hearing or vision, or rash, hives, swelling of the lips tongue or throat? That will REALLY kill the mood, huh?! If you experience those, or "...difficulty breathing or swallowing, STOP TAKING CIALIS."

Is there anyone out there who would keep taking a drug that renders you unable to breathe? Forrest Gump isn't that dense.

When I was a kid, I would run out of the room in embarrassment if a Tampon commercial came on the TV. Nowadays there are no limits, and it's scary.

There's a new show on TV about couples who have sex in a box and then talk about it. I WISH I were kidding. 'Sex Box' a Reality TV Show is on a network that's an offshoot of American Movie Classics. It's imported from Britain.

I am OK with importing costume dramas like Downton Abbey -- even though I don't watch it. But importing tacky, raunchy shows about people having sex... UGH.

The sad thing is that it seems to me TV crossed a line sometime ago, and there is no more good taste in TV programming. I feel so blessed that I grew up watching Mary Tyler Moore, and Carol Burnett, and All in the Family - shows with talented people involved, and some creativity. I think sometime in the 80's it all started going downhill, and I started watching less and less TV. The last show I watched pretty regularly was Ally McBeal, and it was so unrealistic I snorted derisively many times per episode. It was fun though.

 

I want more dancing babies and Brits in costume, and less talk of adult diapers and erectile dysfunction!

Here endeth the sermon...

 

Writing News

One good thing about not being employed in a regular job at the moment is that I have more time to write. When the weather is bad and I don't get outside for long walks or gardening, I get a lot more writing done.

Heard some great news this morning: "Congratulations, your Short Story "The Last Gift" has been selected for inclusion in our forthcoming anthology. The anthology will be published in June/July of this year." No word yet on the title of the anthology or where it can be purchased but as soon as I know those details, I will share.

My essay was about the events surrounding my dad's death in 1996, many of which were much more in the realm of the paranormal than the normal.

I love writing essays. It's much easier than an entire article or book, or even [sometimes] a poem.

It's also therapeutic to write essays, sometimes. Just organizing one's thoughts into a coherent whole makes them easier to handle.

Sometime probably this summer I have a long [3,000 word] article coming out in Georgia Backroads magazine. Very excited about that. The magazine is all about little-known aspects of Georgia history and historic figures. Their most recent issue has a great article, Women of the Jekyll Island Club. It's always fun to read about a place you've actually been.

Earlier this month, I published a blog over at Monday Coffee, Freedom and Loss.

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While all around us folks are dealing with snow and ice, here in Atlanta, we've just had rain and then cold. Totally boring. They canceled schools all around because yesterday we were supposed to have ice. Some of the more northern counties did have some ice, but not here in the suburbs inside the perimeter.

Trying to manage a teenager is giving me lots of new gray hair. Michael didn't come home from his friend's house yesterday and walk Lola -- one of his regular chores -- and so this was pretty much the expression on my face late yesterday afternoon:

photo by Mark Embry

 

Lanhydrock Church

I am not much of a churchgoer right now but I am always mulling over spiritual ideas and questions, and when I saw the photo below, I asked permission of my buddy Elizabeth Harper (a very talented photographer who lives in England now) if I could share it here. For some reason when I see this beautiful photo it makes me feel peaceful, and I thought this was an appropriate image for a Sunday.

It is the church at Lanhydrock, in Cornwall, England, and part of the Church of England. You can read more about the adjacent house here. It has a fascinating history.

"Immediately behind the house is the 15th century church of St Hydroc, where many of the Robartes family lie buried. Outside the south porch stands a pre-Norman Celtic cross, made of granite, with finely carved plaitwork panels and a reworked cross-head."

TB and Me

I think this is the longest I have ever gone without blogging in a long time, but things with us have been very quiet. The only outing all week was taking Mother to get a haircut on Thursday.

There simply wasn't anything I could blog about. I have spent a lot of time going through papers and files in my room, trying to throw out old stuff I don't need any more. I am also actively job searching and I don't blog about that.

I was watching a show on PBS last night, The Forgotten Plague, about how tuberculosis [TB] patients were treated in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. I had been unaware of the fact that it was such a prevalent disease. Many people moved west because the vast area between Mississippi and California was considered more healthy.

So TB played a big role in how our country was settled. Fascinating.

I was also surprised to learn that Vivien Leigh had suffered from TB and it caused her death at the age of 53. I have been a big Gone With the Wind fan since I was a little girl and I thought I knew a lot about her, but I certainly didn't know that.

I also had never really thought about TB affecting my life in any way.

I was telling Mother about this program about TB, and she said when she started teaching [in 1956] she had to have a chest x-ray every year, to prove she didn't have TB.

When I adopted Alesia, there was some question about her TB test not being accurate, and so her chest had to be x-rayed at a Moscow clinic before the Department of Homeland Security would let me bring her into America. I couldn't get Michael enrolled in school here until he had a chest x-ray, even though his TB test was negative.

We're so fortunate that there are now ways to cure TB, although it is still a problem in a lot of countries.

Hatpins and Gloves

Mother was cleaning out some of her dresser drawers this afternoon and came across some small items that belonged to her parents, and those items are treasures, to me. Mamaw and Papa Hasty were married in 1923, almost 100 years ago. I get a huge kick out of seeing things like this because of sentimental value, but also it's just fun to hold something that my grandmother used as a young woman.

See the fashionable hat she was wearing in the photo below? Women never went out in public bareheaded in this days. They held hats onto their heads by attaching them with hatpins.

Above, Mamaw's hatpins. According to the History of Hatpins (fun page to see, click on it) hatpins varied in size, depending on the era and the size of the hat. Mother remembers that Mamaw wore these hatpins in the hat she was wearing when she married. They may have been in the hat pictured above, too, because that photo was made shortly after they married in 1923.

I can tell you one thing about hatpins - you could stab somebody with them.

Michael walked in Mother's room and saw the hatpins - "These are for voodoo dolls, right?!" was his first reaction.

The medallion below was carried by my grandfather when he played for the Philadelphia Athletics - sort of like a company badge, I suppose, although this one was made to last. I couldn't pull up anything about this on Google. There may be another name for it - medallion? id badge? Not sure what to call it. Mother had it attached to a charm bracelet she wore for many years.

We also found pairs of kid gloves, in pristine condition. I tried them on and they fit. Ladies wore gloves, I suppose to protect their hands? I remember as a little girl Mother making me wear a hat and little white gloves to church.

I imagine there were practical reasons for why ladies started wearing hats and gloves. Perhaps hats were for protection against sunburn, and the gloves to protect a woman's hands while she was handling buggy reins? I don't know.

Mother said Granny Butler [Mamaw's mother] could handle a buggy as well as a man. Of course, she was about 5'8 and birthed about 14 children, so she was a strong lady.

Even in her 70's, Granny Butler liked to ride the trolley from Acworth to downtown Atlanta and go shopping, and walk all over town.

Below, Granny and Grandaddy and their 7 daughters, including Mamaw on the far right with the big hair.

Notice the World

One of the great benefits of getting older, for me, is that I notice more beauty around me, all the time. When I was young, I was always restless. Always wanting excitement and adventure, always wanting to travel and see the world.

The irony of that is that only after I matured and actually did travel to different countries, only then did I appreciate the beauty all around me right here close to home.

Below, a view of Edinburgh Scotland, from the castle there, in 1988. For the first time in my 25 years, then, I was looking around, really noticing. This exact same view had hardly changed in centuries -- the sense of history, everywhere, was profoundly moving. I must admit, though, that I wanted to take back interesting photos, to remind me of the trip, or I wouldn't have noticed much. I was like my dad, zipping along as quickly as possible from one thing to the next. When I got home and really studied the photos, only then did I really appreciate what I had seen.

I took some good photos on that trip, but it wasn't until I went to Russia in 2003, with the choir, that I really became acutely aware of things. I was in a country so unlike America that I noticed everything. The beautiful churches. The potholes in the roads. The trash everywhere. The beautiful and exotic buildings. The faces of people so different from Americans. There were huge contrasts of the lovely and the ugly everywhere.

I love the photo below, because it was made the day after I had actually taken custody of Alesia, and we were walking down the street next to the beautiful Amur river in Khabarovsk. I was so glad the ordeal of that adoption process was over, and I had a little girl who was happy to be in a family, even if her mama bought her pants that were too short..

When I came home, I realized that there was a lot of beauty here, too. I was insanely busy, though, between work and being a first-time mom to a child that didn't speak English.

A couple of years later I adopted Michael, and my life began to be more about being outside, because Michael loved to play outside.

Below, a street in Petropavlovsk Kazakhstan in March 2007 when I was there for the first adoption trip.

I have written often about the extreme contrast between Kazakhstan and Atlanta in May 2007, when I returned from my second [and final] trip. After the ordeal of getting home, I wanted to weep at the sight of Atlanta's beautiful flowers and shrubs and trees, as soon as we got off the plane and were going through town in a taxi. Michael was stunned, looking everywhere. I imagine he felt like he'd landed in Oz.

Along with the [unnaturally hot] weather, though, he had a sister, Granny, uncle, and Mom who adored him, and a big backyard to play in. I like to think living here has significantly impacted the sweet, thoughtful young man he has grown into.

Since I have lived here these past ten years I have learned to notice the world. I notice our house, the pool, the tall trees, the streets not filled with potholes. I notice that we live in a lovely place. I used to say I never wanted to live in the suburbs, and now I've totally changed my mind. I love living here.

When I started walking Lola every morning some months ago, I started to notice even more. (I wish I had a better camera than my phone, but at the moment a new camera isn't in the budget.)

No matter where one lives, there is beauty there, if you look for it. You don't have to live in an exotic place. You don't have to have mountains or a lake in your backyard. You don't have to have a cute doggie to walk. Just look around. Notice. Take photos. Don't take photos. Remember.

God is everywhere, in everything beautiful.

Notice how nice it is to walk around and breathe in quiet and clean air.