I'm up...

At Ecotone!

The Faith Between Us...

There's a new book out, "The faith Between Us: A Jew and a Catholic Search for the Meaning of God".


About how two young men wandered around in the world, and found faith, of a sort. Or something... I envy them. They seem to have stumbled on something solid without giving up their stumbling...


And accompanying the book is a website, which promises to be a wonderful blend of all the things I like.


Most of all, authentic humility and an honest voice (or voices).


Perhaps I'll write to them, see if I can get you the Cliffs Notes.

All in one day...

Grandmother dead.


Both boys with fevers of 103/104.


Car completely wrecked, when two gansta types in an old Caddy crashed into me at a red light. Baby in car.


Sigh...

Gay Dumbledore...

So, the kidlit threads and blogs are alive with the Gay Dumbledore saga... and in fact, it's fascinating.


One big question is HOW we teach when we have "secret information" from a living author. Information not in the text (though there's nothing in the text to refute).


Another issue is whether Rowling chickened out. Whether she should have/could have been more opaque, more detailed in her exposure of Dumbledore's romantic life.


A third topic is whether this suits the needs of the nasty-minded, since Dumbledore was an older man, a priest-model, and Harry a young orphan in need of love.


A fourth is whether Dumbledore (if he is in fact gay) is the ONLY gay man in the wizarding world.


And my thoughts? I think that Rowling didn't *know* her headmaster was gay in book one, but that by book 6 or 7 she was envisioning him as a gay character. I'm guessing that she made this apparaent in an early draft, and was edited down. If this is all true, I'm glad she outed him at Carnegie Hall (in any case, really) since I think the HP7 audience is exactly the population that needs to be more open to discussions of identity/lifestyle.


What makes me sad is that a heartfelt scene about Dumbledore's struggles against the stigma would totally fit into the book. In book 7, Dumbledore gets unearthed and destroyed in the press, and it would make perfect sense iof he love life came out in that process. It would further make sense for Harry to struggle with this a little, and to then ASK Dumbledore about it in his dream/post death conversation with the headmaster.


And this would have been such a good way for Dumbledore to create a GOOD stereotype as an older gay man. To show the world that because his lifestyle was so hated (like Lupin, actually) in the wizarding world, he was denied a chance to marry and have kids, and so became the headmaster of Hogwarts (instead of minister of magic), where he could put his love of children to good use.


Which ties it all together. Dumbledore pours his love into Harry in such a healthy way NOT because he's a dirty old man, but because he's been denied a family by the closed-minded world around him. This Harry would be able to understand I think, after being hunted/hated himself.


I feel like Rowling missed her shot. But I'm glad she's outing him now.

Young Readers' Guide to New Poetry...

What would people think of such a thing? A truly contemporary list of poets who might interest young (let's say high school) readers? And tips on how best to teach and best use their work?

Last I checked, ee cummings was still being taught as "wacky new poetry".

Responding...

I'm getting a lot of traffic today, because of the NPR commentary. And in addition to that, I've gotten a few emails from people who *really* disagree with what I had to say on the radio. So I wanted to add something here...


And I did, wrote a looooong post explaining, but then I took it down again.


Because it's really not that big a deal.

Craaaaaaazy...

This has been a very intense week. Full of all kinds of random wonderfullness, but now I'm zonked.


Random wonderfullness will do that to you.


It all began on Tuesday night, when I met one of my favorite kidlit writers in the world and stayed up way past my bedtime chatting him up. I just stumbled over him online! And he turned out to be a real live person, and a delight!!! It's very nice when famous people turn out to be real people, nice people, smart people. It's very nice when famous people deserve their fame...


So then I was exhausted when some of my favorite Iowans blew through town to make beautiful music. But I did it-- stayed up late again, and drank some boozey beverages and clapped and thought and sang along and admired... and felt a little homesick for the midwest...


And so I was two days tired when, the next morning, I got an email from All Things Considered, asking if I could do a quick edit of something I'd submitted long ago. Of course I could! And did! But then I had to scramble to find someone to stay with the kiddles while I fast ran over to the station to record. Whew! But well worth it... and the commentary paid for the babysitting, so that's nice.


But while THAT was happening, another awesome (and wildly talented) friend turned up in town, en route from here to there. So of course I had to catch up with her too (and it was lovely!) You'll know who she is in a year or two. Mark my words.


So now here I am, sitting on the couch, inside my house-o-mess, listening to the sound of Mose sleeping through the baby monitor, and Lewis wiggling on the floor at my feet, and the long-overdue laundry churning and tumbling in the kitchen.


Here I am, just staring around me, thinking about how amazing my life is. Really. It's insane.


I'm a very lucky lady. I get to have it all-- both the regular and the irregular. The random and the rote.


The rote is where I want it to be, where it should be-- in naptimes and mealtimes and snuggletimes...


And the rest....


The rest is delicious insanity. Never a dull moment. Often unwashed and broke and sleep-deprived, but spectacular all the same.


The people who tell you you'll have to grow up... are just bitter.


And the people who say that having kids will end your fun... just don't have the right stroller.

And here we are...

A box arrived. I opened it up. There were books inside.


MY Books!


(Which are also available at Amazon, but if you purchase using the above link, the press gets a MUCH bigger cut... so please do that!?)


Can you believe it? I cannot believe it.


Now I have three babies. Two of them gestated 9 months, and one gestated about 24 years (I wrote my first poem in third grade).


I will probably be spamming you. I apologize in advance...


But can you blame me? It's a book of poems. A book of poems!


I HAVE A BOOK OF POEMS!!!!!!!

Kindnesses...

So, today the mail arrived, and in it there was a small heavy package, from NY. I had no idea what it was.


When I opened it, I found the sweetest, sweetest note, and these amazing magnets, little magnets that look just like my book.


For no reason. From someone I've never even met. Just a nice nice person.


Can you believe that?


Who do you think sent the package? It was a BLOGGER, and you know him/her!

What follows...

There is no appropriate way to follow up a death-post. How can you update your blog with any of the fluffy crap one puts in a blog, and not feel cruddy.


Because your dead friend is still dead, and that loss is still very real. But there you are, plugging your book, talking about the cute thing your kid did, poating piocs of your new haircut, etc. etc.


And yet, life does go on.


So here we are now, updating. Ken is still dead. That is horrendously, terribly sad. I'll be driving up tomorrow for the funeral, in case you need a ride and live in ATL.


In the meantime? I *do* have a haircut.

Ken Smith...

The fiction teacher at my undergraduate school, UTC, died last night.


While I never took his classes (I feared the commitment of long prose until very recently, and have never really been a short story person), he was a good good friend to me. A wonderful man. A mentor to many.


Not every college has teachers like Ken. He studied animal husbandry, and dropped out of school to join the Navy. He used to make stew from hunted meat--varmints you've probably never eaten. He used to sneak a bottle of bourbon into snooty wine parties and then drink it on the sly. I swear I've seen him do it at restaurants too. He smelled like smoke and he hugged HARD.


He was a serious writer, but he was wholly uninterested in trends. He read books he liked and he wrote books he liked and he tried to help kids understand what made books special. He also tried to help kids understand that they were special. In a place where that wasn't always easy to do.


He was a shoulder to lean on.


He was what people mean when they say "salt of the earth" Both the people who know what the phrase means (the light of the world) and the ones who think they know, but are kind of wrong (authentic, real folks, hard-working, unpretentious). Ken was all of that. And more.


In a few weeks I'll be in Chattanooga, for the Meacham Conference, and it will be very very sad. Can't quite imagine it.


In the meantime, for those few of you who knew him, and might visit this blog but have little contact with UTC these days, you can send a card if you want, care of Verbie Prevost, at the old address:


English Department
203 Holt Hall
Dept. 2703
615 McCallie Avenue
Chattanooga, TN 37403


Also, UTC is creating a student fiction prize in Ken's name, as a way to remember him. If you would like to help with that, you can make a check out to the UC Foundation, earmarked for the Ken Smith Fiction Prize, and send the check to:


UTC Development Office, Dept. 6806
615 McCallie Ave
Chattanooga, TN 37403


Finally, visitation will be Wednesday, October 10, from 5 p.m. to 9 p.m. and Thursday, October 11, from 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. and Friday, October 12, from 8 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. at Wilson funeral Home, 443 Boynton Drive, Ringgold, GA. And the funeral will be Friday at 11:30 a.m. in Patten Chapel with burial to follow at National Cemetery.


Ken, you will be missed.


Love!

Got God???

I'm ranting today, over at Jewcy!


About how an abusive and terrible and wrathful God...


Is at least something.


Checkit!