leave the kids alone

I was in a coffee shop today, reading a chapter about Camus, for my class. I was wondering how I missed the fact that The Plague is an allegory for Fascism, when I noticed a woman and her daughter getting their drinks from the counter.  The little girl was 2 or 3 years old. What do you say? asked the mother.
thank you
They walked past me. What do you say?
excuse me
The mother saw a friend. What do you say?
Hello.
Turn around when you talk to someone.
Minutes later I heard the mother pointing out a woman and child crossing the street. They looked both ways. He held her hand.  We always look both ways. We always hold hands.
And it seemed to me there was some slippery similarity between this well- meaning mother’s moment by moment intrusion into her daughter’s experience and the fascist denial of personal autonomy.

which is it?

A grim rainy day, harbinger of winter, everyone quiet and morose. Maybe my kids would have a different impression of this day-  I spent it in the library, but they were at a tailgating party.

not exactly Pinochet, but you know what I mean

The photographs of Chileans celebrating in the streets after Allende was elected remind me a little of the pictures of people here, after Obama’s election night.  For a moment, goodness triumphed.  And then it changed again. And then it was worse, more stupid and more cruel, than anyone could have imagined.

and then she became a Communist

At a reading at Eastern Oregon University, someone in the audience asked what books I read as a child, but I wouldn’t answer. I could only think: Gone with the Wind, three times, and how could I explain that? I read Gone with the Wind and I read, accidentally, what I think must have been Naked Lunch, which I found on my older sister’s book shelf.. I read The Group and then had to hide it from my friend Kathy Walsh, who wanted to read the sex part over and over again. I loved fairy tales. I read plays out loud, pretending I was an actress. I read about Bonnie and Clyde. I read a book by a priest who had left the church and Sr. Agatha told me she once knew a girl who thought she could read anything she wanted and she ended up becoming a Communist. During one particularly religious period, I read the Bible every night. I read trashy books and I read The Scarlet Pimpernel and The Scarlet Letter. I read Pearl Buck and I read comic books. I loved Archie and Veronica.

not a popularity contest

Today on the radio a woman from some book club organization talked about how important it is for writers to have a presence and to be good speakers. To be likable. Yikes!