Better living through facts

I've been gone a while. Lots of good things going on. I'm back because I have a problem. It's not a big problem, but I think it's a common one in this age.

I just read a post over at donmilleris.com ("Remembering Ludwig van Beethoven"), and it stirred a dilemma in me.

Miller's post includes a note from Beethoven to his brothers. Beethoven's note raises great questions about life and artists. His loss of hearing, so deeply felt. Would he have been a different artist if he had never experienced that loss? Is it really "less easy for the artist than anyone else?"

These are the questions raised, but my dilemma is this: I'm distracted. The post begins by pointing to today as the anniversary of Beethoven's death. In my mind, I hear a audio recording ("Beethoven Lives Upstairs" maybe?) purchased after taking one of my kids to the symphony as a birthday present. We listened to it on the way home. Bells rang out, and the narrator intoned, "March 26th ..." We looked at each other in disbelief. March 26th, my child's birthday, and the widely reported date of Beethoven's death.

The intent of "Remembering Ludwig van Beethoven" is not to proclaim fact, and I know it. I want to think about the broader truth, but I am weak. I do a little checking. Today is likely the anniversary of Beethoven's baptism. Perhaps I should let it go. Perhaps I should contact the author privately, but there's no way to do that. I don't want to be snarky, but I don't want to see someone's words discredited because of a simple mistake.

Miller says in his post that some believe that in this "age of television and consumer distractions, another Beethoven will not develop." But we will know the facts!

(I keep thinking about this issue. If you'd like to read more of my thoughts on facts and truth, and about the birth of a different child, please check out For Victoria Crawford, an essay I wrote for curatormagazine.com.)

On Football

My latest essay is now available at The Curator. Here's an excerpt:

We spend our autumn Sundays, each Thanksgiving, and the rare Monday, in the throws. We visit Ford Field; we stare at our televisions. Sixteen times every fall, we participate, identify, and scream — sometimes with joy, usually in pain. We are offsides; we are injured; we shake our heads and curse ourselves for wasting a perfectly good afternoon on this ridiculous team. Occasionally, we win, and we shake our heads just the same. We are being strung along. Stupid Lions.

Winter brings the playoffs, and we watch numbly, from afar. By the second round, we’re adopting a team. The Super Bowl is played. We don’t wonder when it will be our turn. We have no dreams for our future. It’s February, the mercifully shortest month, the worst month. Our hearts and road conditions unite: we are cold, iced over. We are sick of winter and done with football.

The rash among us disassociate and make vows: they will never watch another Lions game until that team proves their worth. These rash might get teased a little, about jumping off the bandwagon, but mostly, everyone nods.

How do Lions fans go from this to the unbridled optimism of August? Read the entire story here, at curatormargazine.com.

New personal essay

My latest, After the Fourth, is available starting today at Curator magazine. An excerpt:

The days surrounding July 4^th normally trumpet the ease of summer, but this year’s music is different. It was Tuesday, the fifth of July, when the horns gave way to the unrelenting beat of the future.

A careful listener would have heard the cues sooner. On Friday, my oldest went away with a buddy and his family. We packed my boy’s things and wrote down all the phone numbers. His dad and I spoke out of both sides of our mouths, reminding him to call if anything made him uncomfortable and assuring him that everything would be fine.

Thump, thump.

Saturday the wind and rain washed the rhythm away, but it returned on Sunday, pulsing as I came up the stairs and saw Connor in combat boots and camouflage...

Read the whole story here.

Real produce, real answers

What do you do about the tiny black bugs in the organic broccoli? asked a foodpickle writer.

I know the answer, but I couldn't bring myself to post it there.

We had these same tiny black bugs in our homegrown cauliflower when I was a kid. I would spend minute after minute at the kitchen sink, plunging the white heads into cold water and inspecting each and every floret.

This sort of effort was fruitless, and my father would tell me so. Then he showed me his way. Like me, he plunged the cauliflower under the water. Unlike me, he left it there and went to the cupboard. He returned to the sink, an open tin in his hand. He shook the tin above the surface of the water, let the cauliflower soak for a time, and then pulled the whole head from the sink before draining the water, grinning.

So to the foodpickle person, I say this: pepper the broccoli. No one will ever know the difference.

Summer is Here!

Dear Bush Beans: 

You are a pain to harvest and process, but I love you. Especially drizzled in olive oil, simply seasoned, and grilled. 

All winter long I pine for this, the beginning of the summer harvest. Our local farmer's market had sweet corn and tomatoes and berries. My husband went with me for the first time, and he described me as practically vibrating.

Things are a little slower in our own garden, graciously housed and cared for by my in-laws. The pepper plants look a little short, the tomato plants seem to be coming up slow, but the beans promise a good yield. Hope your summer produces as well!

Where I've Been

Hiya blog readers. It has been a while. Summer has me in her grips, and she's not letting me go until I out-scarf the hot dog eating champion at Nathan's Famous.

I'll post from time to time this summer. In the meantime, I'd love it if you read my latest piece, a "short imagined monologue", as published at McSweeney's Internet Tendency:

A WOMAN, RETURNING TO THE WORKFORCE AFTER HAVING CHILDREN, ANSWERS A STAR BEHAVIORAL ASSESSMENT JOB INTERVIEW QUESTION.

BY LAURA TOKIE

- - - -

The situation was that my second child was going on four and still in diapers. People were starting to talk. I was already “that mom with the biter.” They called my firstborn “The Shark” around the St. Nicholas Daycare. His dental impressions were found on everyone, or so they claimed. I swear one of those kids was biting himself just to get an extra turn on the scooter, but whatever. Eventually they put my boy on the naughty list and kicked him out… hence the employment gap you’ve noted, and The Shark’s complete hatred of Santa Claus.  

Once nursery workers turn on you, you’re under constant surveillance. You pass them in the dairy aisle. They smile sweetly, avoiding eye contact, noting the mismatched socks and the odor of soy sauce as they select their fake butter. ...

Read the full piece here. Fifteen dogs and counting, Laura

How to Be Cheap

Some people believe that cheapness is innate and unchangeable. They believe that in order to be cheap, Mom's birth plan had to assume your birth in the back of the Vega, Pops cutting through side streets, hunting for the lowest gas price. 

If you were not to the tightwad born, don't fret. They can believe what they want; I believe you can overcome a generous nature. Here are some tips on how to cultivate cheapness.

Holidays/Entertaining

• Convert a Christmas cookie jar into a bank. When the kids get rambunctious and ruin wrapping paper for re-use, fine them.
• For Easter, cut jelly beans in half. Give some to the kids and save the rest for Halloween 'tricky treats'.
• Homemade wrapping paper: use original store bag, scribble on it, and call it 'eco-friendly art packaging.' Feeling self-conscious? Say it was the kids' idea.
• Buy a 99-cent card for Mother's Day. Insist that she give it back so it can be reused the next year. If you have a mom and a step-mom and/or mother-in-law, make them share.
• If leftover meat remains on the guest's plate, cut around the bites and store for your use later.

Toiletries

• Once you buy the week's toilet paper, ration equal amounts for each person in your household. Extra Cheap Tip: make guests bring their own.
• Dental floss: measure out a comfortable length and mark in two-inch increments. Use only one section per day. Rinse and save in toothbrush holder until entire length is used. 

On Vacation

• Never book a motel. Only travel where you have family. Fall asleep while looking at old family movies; play "sound sleeper,"and they'll feel bad for you and let you spend the night. Raid the fridge on your way out in the morning before anyone else gets up -- free room and board!

Shopping

• Dress the children alike. Ask all clerks if they offer a 'multiples' discount.

Social Life

• If your girlfriend is short, try to get her into the movie on a kid's "12 and under" ticket.
• Invite a friend out to lunch and 'forget' your wallet. Keep friends away from each other, so you can do this more than once.
• Make your kid use the same plastic bag and messed up piece of tinfoil for his school lunch all week. Explain to him that it's a 'Friendship Test': he doesn't need friends who would tease him about saving money. Extra Cheap Tip: make him reuse a napkin too. 

Apply these and they will naturalize, like day lilies dug up from alongside the road and transplanted to your flower bed. Congratulations on your spreading cheapness!

This is my third collaborative article, and it's always a good time. Thanks Jennifer B., Tina C., 
Mary Ann D., Fred H., Gina L., Kamla L., Kathleen R., and Mike T. Want more? You can read about writing your own bio blurb, or surviving Michigan's rich tradition of high school graduation open houses.