Originally written in Oct/10, but not posted until now.
This has been a crazy week. In fact, the last six weeks have been crazy for me. It has taken some adjustment (by everyone) to get used to the idea of Jill Jones, University Student.
This past week I had one midterm, one quiz, and two essays due. So today, after I handed in the last essay, I decided that Addie C. and I should go out for lunch. To McDonald's, of course ... her favourite.
While we were eating, I asked her about school.
"So, Addie," I chatted, "are you still learning about apples at school?"
"Nope, that's all done now," she explained.
"Oh, I bet you'll talk about leaves soon," I told her, feeling fairly confident since I have been through the JK curriculum twice recently.
"Yeah, Mommy, we already do that," Addie told me. "It's called Fall."
"Oh, pardon me," I said. "I didn't realize you were so smart. I wonder if you'll go on a nature walk this year." I was sort of talking to myself, wondering if I could somehow swing tagging along as a parental helper.
"We already did that tomorrow," she informed me. Addie C. gets her "esterdays" mixed up with her tomorrows sometimes. "And me and Simone were partners. So we shared a bag and we go alot of leaves, too."
What? How could I not know about this?
This is what I have been afraid of.
There are things going on in my little girl's life that I don't know about. That I am not involved in. It's what I have been afraid of, and I was heartbroken.
When Caiden and Marnie were in JK, I dropped them off every day and picked them up every day. I talked to their teachers every day; I knew what was happening in the classrooms; I knew who was naughty and who was nice; and occasionally, I did things with the class.
But now, I am doing things in my own classroom. With my own classmates. It feels great being out there, back in the world, talking to people, learning new things. But sometimes I feel like I am missing out on the stuff with my own kids. Like the effortless chatter when they come through the door after school.
But I cannot just sit at home, in case something interesting happens at school, right? Or wait around with the hopes that I might get the chanve to help out on a nature walk. That would be crazy ...
But still, this is what I have been afraid of ...
"Come on, let's get a stir-fry," he said.
"Why?" she asked. "Let's get some pizza."
"I just want to eat something relatively healthy," he explained.
""What?" she said. "Do you think I am getting fat? Look at me. Do you think I am getting fat?"
"No," he answered.
"No, really," she pressed. "Do you think I've put on weight? Look at me."
"No, it's not about that," he said, getting frustrated. "It's about eating something with some nutritional value."
"Well, the only reason you need to worry about eating healthy is if you need to lose weight. So, you must think I need to lose weight."
He sighed, obviously frustrated.
"Listen, I ate at McDonald's AGAIN last night," he said. "And, I feel like shit. I just want some vegetables."
"Look at me," she demanded again. "Do I look like I need to worry about eating vegetables?"
A big sigh was (over)heard ....
This is a conversation I overheard standing in a food line in the University Centre. It made me chuckle for two reasons ... girls still have the same (body image) insecurities they did when I attended University twenty years ago, and the boy makes a good point about food options on a University Campus.
While the boy was right on point, the girl completely missed the point. The boy was concerned about health and not weight ... which was great to hear. He understands food as fuel for your body, and the importance of eating fresh food. The girl, unfortunately, was wrapped up in appearances.
As far as the choices available, I'm not really sure what could change or how to make it better. I mean, they are trying to make food for thousands of people ... there is no time to make large quantities from scratch. But what about a soup from scratch? With actual fresh vegies? Or a huge batch of fresh, homemade tomato sauce? Leftovers in the freezer?
Perhaps I am too ambitious. But I do agree with the young man in line behind me. Some fresh vegies would be nice.
There is a totally awesome fresh salad bar ... with a Southwest Salad that cannot be beat! So, if I lived on Campus, I would eat salad for lunch and dinner.
I wish girls did not have equate their worth with how they look. We have all done it, at one time or another. Fortunately for me, I have never had a weight problem ... yes, I know that I am lucky. This does not mean that I have always loved the way I looked. In fact, a couple of years ago, in a moment of self-(body)loathing, I checked out the BMI Index. I thought that it might inspire me to get my act together and get serious about eating healthy. And do you know what? My weight was in the healthy range for a woman of my height and age. And yet, I hated my body.
Women's bodies should not be skeletal. Bones do not need to be sticking out. And, skinny does not equal healthy. Do girls know this?
I say these things with caution because there is a large obesity problem in North America. No pun intended. People eat too much fast food, junk food and processed food. I have written about this many times.
When did food and eating become such a problem? Shouldn't it just be something you enjoy with some people you like? Guess not.
"Fine," she said. "I'll have a stir-fry. But I still don't think I need to."
Sigh ...
I have a friend who has been encouraging me to read something by Stephen King as part of my challenge to read one hundred books in one year. Did you know that Stephen King reads seventy to eighty books each year? Suddenly, my pitiful thirty-five books read (to date) seems even more heartbreakingly pathetic.
In August I read, On Writing - A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King. I'm not sure if this counts as a Stephen King book to the general populous, but I sure did enjoy it. In fact, I loved it, however it is not for everyone.
For me, it was great to "talk" with someone who speaks my language. This is not to say that I feel like Stephen King and I are equals in the world of writers. Nothing could be further from the truth. However I completely understood everything that he wrote about with respect to the craft of writing. In fact, I learned a great deal, not the least of which is that I do have an understanding of the process. Some of the things he writes, I already do, some I understand the importance of but have not been able to achieve (because of the small people running around my house), and other things I had never thought of before, but completely appreciate. All that, just from reading this book.
His number one piece of advice to achieve great writing is to write a lot ... and to read, a lot. Well, that sounds like just about the perfect job to me. Does that mean that I can pick up a great book, hush the children (which means ignore them) and explain that Mommy is working? I'll have to try that one some time.
On Writing begins with a resume, of sorts. StephenKing remembers some of the early times in his life and some of the things that stand out from his childhood. He moves on to describe the events surrounding his first book (Carrie - 1974) being published, and he touches briefly on his alcohol and drug addiction. In fact, he admits that he has no recollection of writing Cujo (1981), which saddened him because he really loves that book and wishes he could recall the process of writing it. It is the kind of the auto-biographical writing that, when read, you want to share with someone else. So, suffice it to say, that Jonesy knows way more about StephenKing than he ever wanted to. But, having said that, I think he found the tidbits I threw out there, kind of interesting. Funny, gross, interesting ...
The other two thirds of the book are fairly specific to the craft of writing. Some is down-right instructional, other parts are teaching through example ... which I love. Sometimes he is specific - 2000 words per day- and other times he is more ambiguous, like when he says. "I'm doubtful about writing classes, but not entirely against them."
If you are a budding writer, I highly recommend picking this book up. But if you are just a fan of Stephen King and not really interested in writing as an art form, this may not be the book for you.
StephenKing - I cannot refer to him as King or Stephen, just StephenKing, all one word - is a really incredible person. I mean, aside from the writer; because as a writer, he is a genius and obviously, well-respected. I read lots of his stuff as a young girl ... Carrie (plus I saw the movie), Pet Semetary, Cujo are the ones that stand out. Of course, I have seen The Shining (red-rum, red-rum, red-rum) and The Green Mile which are movies based on his novels. And please, don't forget The Shawshank Redemption, based on the novella by StephenKing entitled, Rita Hayworth and the Shawhank Redemption -probably one of my favourite movies. I'll have to look for the novella.
But as a girl, my interests changed and I moved on to different writers, like Danielle Steele. Plus, at about the same time in my life, I developed a heavy social agenda, so I didn't have much time to read. Because when you are a teenaged girl, it takes approximately the same amount of time to "get ready" as it does to attend the actual event you are getting ready for.
He is a goofy looking man, whom I did not find compelling enough to really find out about the person behind the stories. For many years, I have thought of StephenKing as a grown up kid; like an adult with a boy's imagination. And, I don't think StephenKing would be offended by that statement; in fact, it would probably make him happy inside. Although he has matured, his interest still lies in the realm of science fiction. Just like it did when he was eight or nine years old and hitchhiking to movies in the nearest town. He wrote that he likes to get his character(s) into a predictament and then watch as they figure their way out of it.
Another admirable thing about StephenKing is that he has been married to the same woman for almost forty years. Which I consider a true accomplishment in the world of fame. He talks about her with respect and love and admiration. Don't you hope that your husband would describe your laugh as "adorable" or that he has a full understanding (and respect) for your lack of putting up with his bullshit - even after forty years of marriage?
Anyhow, after reading this book, I have my own piece of advice. Be patient as a writer. It is much easier to verbally tell a story than it is to write it down. Because most times, your brain moves faster than your fingers, so you have to slow down a bit and take the time to get it right. It is simple to invoke humor or expression using your face or hand-movements when telling a story. However, when writing a story you must be skilled at making your point (whether sad, or funny, or inspirational) using only words and punctuation. And you don't even get to read those words aloud to your reader ... you must hope that they can hear your voice.
Initially, I borrowed this book from the Public Library. I will be purchasing my own copy because I know I will refer back to it time and time again. That is how much I loved and appreciated this book. StephenKing is a natural teacher, and he has much to share. Do you want to learn from him?
It is the same, but it is different, too. University, that is.
As I have mentioned before, the campus is mostly the same. Of course, many of the classrooms have been updated to accomodate the use of laptops ... which means there are electrical outlets at each desk space. The classrooms are equipped for multi-media presentations, and there is free wireless available in several buildings on campus.
For the most part, the students seem the same ... the geeks, the jocks, the artsy people, the cool chicks. Plus those guys who you know will get kicked out after the first semester... They all wear jeans and t-shirts, just like in the late '80s. Pretty much anything casual goes ... I saw a guy today wearing a rainbow-coloured belt ??
And, I feel the same; which is to say that I feel comfortable. I am looking through my same eyes; the only problem is that when people look back, I look a little different to them than I did twenty years ago. I feel comfortable in a classroom, and until my Early British Literature class, I felt fairly confident in my abilities. Don't worry, we'll discuss it soon; just not today.
The one thing that has changed significantly are the professors. When I was a student twenty years ago, the professors were impersonal and distant. They were there to lecture and bestow their knowledge upon us. The professors did not care to know our names or anything about us (the students) for that matter. I felt like a number in a sea of faces. And they certainly didn't care if you came to class or not.
Today, professors seem genuinely interested in getting to know their students. In each of my first two classes, we had to introduce ourselves ... because the profs want to learn our names. They are interested in the students' opinions and thoughts ... they encourage open discussion. Sometimes they even talk about themselves in a personal manner. One of my profs told the class she failed Economics when she was an undergrad, and she talked about her little boy. This would NEVER have happened twenty years ago.
Plus, each of my four professors has given their curriculum vitae (verbally) ... like they need to reassure us they are qualified to teach university-level courses.
The professors care if you attend their classes. They want you there, and they encourage it by providing marks for class participation. Each of my four courses awards marks for attendance, and participation.
Teaching styles have changed drastically. Professors lectured when I went to school twenty years ago. They stood at the front of the class in front of a lecturn and they spoke at us. Many times it was boring, and dry, and unengaging. Today, the professors teach. It is interactive and fun. In one class, we got into groups, moving furniture around the room and putting together very small presentations on literary terms. I will forever feel comfortable in defining ideology, paradigm and hegemony.
As I am sure you can imagine, laptops are everywhere ... these kids even sit in the hallway, and while awaiting a class, they pull out their laptop and log in. Right there. While sitting cross-legged on the floor. I just don't have the energy to do that. It's much easier for us old ladies to just pull out a good old fashioned paperback book and do a little reading if we're a little early for class.
The other thing that bears mentioning is the abundance of information that is available to students today. There is an obvious and enormous difference from twenty years ago, and the contrast in the level of understanding is incredible. No longer are you dependent on just your textbook for information or explanation ... you have the Internet at your fingertips. For instance, my professor referenced a book that further expounded on the point she was making. In days past, I would not have really thought any more about it ... what could I do, other than check the University Library? However, since it was an essay published in 1967, I would never have found it. Plus I had the title wrong. After just a few clicks, I had all the information I needed to appreciate what she was talking about. My History professor posts all his power-point lecture notes on-line for easy access to what he lectured about.
It is all about easily accessed information.
The University of Windsor Library has put together special resources for each department ... just to make things even easier for research. For instance, the English resource page links students up to further readings by era, but also gives access to newspaper publications dating back to the 1800s. You can read the newspaper from the day your Grama was born ... how cool is that? But you must have a Student ID to do it.
Yep, things are definitely different. But in a strange way, it is all still the same. Except now I have to attend classes, do the assigned reading, complete the assignments on time, attend class and participate ... and try to get supper on the table for three hungry kids and a husband, too. But more on that another day.
In October of 1989, my Grampa Smyth gave me my first (serious) cookbook. Until that time, I cooked using my mom's recipes, her cookbooks - which numbered two or three, perhaps - and a children's cookbook I had received as a Christmas gift when I was ten years old. I still have it, and it was important in the life of me because it taught me how to make Cinnamon Toast.
But my Grampa recognized my interest in cooking, and I suspect that it was the first time he acknowledged (to himself) that I was growing up. He would have wanted to ensure that I could cook a good meal for my future husband. So while home (from university) for a long weekend at Thanksgiving, he presented me with the book. We had all gathered for Sunday dinner at Grampa's apartment, and he handed me this book, which had been wrapped up, if I remember correctly. I think this memory is so vivid because I was shocked that he was giving me a present ... we didn't exchange gifts at Thanksgiving?? And then I was so touched that he had been able to see me as a person, as an individual instead of just his granddaughter. That cookbook gave me my start into the world of culinary experimentation and exploration.
The book of which I write is the Good Housekeeping Illustrated Cookbook, and I absolutely adored it. I think I looked at every recipe, and then I tried lots of them. I perfected Cheesecake, homemade bread and pie crust and even made my own pasta occasionally. But it also served as a reference for roasting whole birds and (as Grampa always said) roast beast.
From that point on, my Grampa took credit for any and all my accomplishments in the kitchen.
"I gave her the first cookbook she owned," he would tell anyone who would listen, as he enjoyed a piece of my latest (dessert) creation. It was then that I became responsible for the dessert course at all family gatherings. But that is to be expected when you pump out the best apple pie on the planet, or homemade Cream Puffs.
The Good Housekeeping Illustrated Cookbook became my reference manual ... my cooking Bible.
Until I found Bittman, that is.
I have been wanting to buy How to Cook Everything (10th Anniversary Edition) by Mark Bittman for some time now. So, I finally did so a little earlier this summer, and I have not been disappointed.
Mark Bittman is a food journalist and an author. He is current, with an old fashioned sense of style. At least, that is how I think of him. He is a strong proponent of sustainable living and homecooking. He uses the freshest, most natural ingredients he can find, and his cookbook provides the reader with cool, hip recipes and some old-fashioned ones he has made-over.
How to Cook Everything is akin to a Journal or an Index of Cooking Information. It is my opinion that every kitchen should have this book ... even if you have been cooking for a number of years. Because you can always learn new things, right?
Bittman is a genius ... there, I said it. And I completely believe it, too. He makes food simple, but creates interesting, complex flavours. And he teaches technique as well. Most recipes are quick to make, with ingredients the average cook would have on hand.
One of the unique things about his cookbooks is that Bittman includes several variations for many of his recipes. For example, he will begin with a basic recipe for pasta or rice salad, followed by ten to fifteen different variations. Leave out this and this, and instead add that, that, and that ... totally different salad. And many times, he will give ideas on how take the same basic recipe and make it vegetarian by substituting cauliflower or a legume for the meat. It's really easy once you get the hang of it.
I'm sure you are familiar with the Apple campaign, "There's an Ap for that." Well, Bittman's marketing slogan could easily be "There's a recipe for that." Several times I have had an ingredient that needed to be used up so it would not spoil, and each time I have found a great use for it by consulting with Bittman. Just the other night I had some leftover corn-on-cob, and found a recipe for corn salad that was out of this world.
Don't let this turn you off ... but there are no photographs in this cookbook. Normally, the first thing I look for are great photos of the dishes you can create. Because we all eat with our eyes first, don't we? The only pictures in How to Cook Everything are instructional drawings. But, to be honest, I didn't really notice the lack of photos. I didn't need them, and you won't either. Because the more you make Bittman's recipes, the more you will come to trust him. He will not steer you in the wrong direction. Like the recipe for Watermelon and Tomato Salad ... it seems like the strangest combination of ingredients, but I cannot wait to try it. Especially since watermelon and field tomatoes are at all the local food stands.
If you are in the market for a new cookbook, please pick this one up. Look, this book has more than one thousand pages of recipes and ideas; so, if you cannot find a few good ones that would warrant the $40 you have to shell out for your own copy, then perhaps you should assign meal preparation to someone else in your family.
I think my Grampa would love it, and I wish I could surprise him with a copy of it. Why don't you? Surprise someone that you know with a fresh point of reference for their kitchen.
You can read Bittman's NY Times column, The Minimalist, here.
You can check out his blog here.
It was not that long ago that The Piano Man's Daughter came out. I can remember it clearly because I wanted to read it so badly. Therefore, when I stumbled on it at the Public Library a couple of weeks ago, I knew my search for another book written by a Canadian author was over. I could hardly wait to get home.
But when I did get home, I felt as though bitter reality had slapped me right across the face. It turns out that Timothy Findley's The Piano Man's Daughter was published in 1995.
1995? What? That just cannot be true because it seems like it was just a couple of years ago that I read the first reviews of it. Not fifteen years ago! Ugh ... there's that slap of bitter reality again.
It is a great read if you enjoy stories that encompass two or three generations of the same family, or a journey to understand the true character of one individual.
Just as the title suggests, this book tells the story of Lily - the piano man's daughter - and her battle with mental illness as seen through the eyes of her son. It is engaging and interesting, and although it is primarily the story of Lily, it also tells the story of the whole Kilworth family.
There are several themes running through this novel. Mental illness. Fire as a symbol. A little bit of religion. Spirituality, for certain ... Lily believed that "to be born was to be made visible." And the colonies of ants that Lily loved so much ... I would need to research that a little further before speculating.
As I neared the end of this book, I completely forgot that I was reading. I was so engrossed, I felt like I was there, with the characters. It seemed so real, I just knew that it had to be. And, I was right. Findley has acknowledged that the character of Lily was based on his aunt, who was schizophrenic. Findley describes Lily as autistic; however, I would have to politely disagree. Lily is most definitely schizophrenic, as well as epileptic.
Epilepsy brings a really cool aspect to the story because of the meanings attached to it. In ancient times, epilepsy came to be known as a "Sacred Disease." People thought that the seizures were a form of attack by demons, or that the visions experienced by persons with epilepsy were sent by the gods. Could Lily be a vessel? You read it, and let me know what you think.
It is the epilepsy that makes Lily different as a child, and the illness causes her mother (and family) to feel ashamed of her for that reason. They work very hard to hide the illness because at that time, mental illness (of any kind) was something that could bring shame on a family. But once she grows up, it is the schizophrenia that comes to define her life. She is delusional and has hallucinations, which are the hallmarks of schizoprenia. And the changes in her personality begin around the time she is eighteen or nineteen years old ... another indication of a schizophrenic diagnosis.
But I won't be able to convince Findley of my diagnosis because he died in 2002.
The characters really come to life, and force the reader to consider what is right for them. I had to question whether Lily should have had custody of her son? How could a mother choose her husband over the welfare of her daughter and grandson? Yes, she slipped them some money when she could ... but does that make her decision to turn her back on them all right? When do you stop being responsible for your child?
It is unfortunate that it took me fifteen years to pick this book up. Don't make the same mistake I did ... go, get this one right now.
She had been there hundreds of times before, maybe even thousands. But this time was different. At the age of forty-one, she had come to this store in search of back-to-school supplies ... for herself. Although she was very excited, she also felt a little silly, which is the reason she brought her daughter. Perhaps passers-by would just assume the supplies were for the little girl.
"Oh, Mommy," said Martie, holding up a package, "look at these pretty markers."
"Those are highliters," the woman explained. "They are used to mark the important things that you read ... so you won't forget them." Hopefully she wouldn't forget them.
"Can we get the pink ones?" Martie asks.
"Sure."
The woman and her daughter wandered around the store until they had found all the necessities.
"These are the cutest notebooks," said the cashier. "I think I am going to pick some up for myself."
"Do you attend the University?" the woman asked.
"Yeah," the young girl answered, with a little sparkle in her eye.
"Does anyone use actual notebooks to write notes in class?" the woman asked. She was truly interested in the answer, and waited while the cashier thought for a minute.
"Nope. Pretty sure most people use their laptop for notes in class," the cashier reports. There is a small (okay, it's very large) pit in the woman's stomach. "But sometimes I use a notebook. But not very often ..."
The woman laughed. What else could she do, really? When she last attended an institute of higher learning she felt fortunate because she had inherited her Grampa's electric typewriter after he retired. Honestly. The forty-one-year-old woman could hardly imagine unpacking a laptop to take notes in class ... wasn't that a lot of work just to jot down some notes?
"You know ... I am taking some classes at the University this Fall. And, I am going to use notebooks ... and pencils. I don't care what everyone else is doing ..." she told the cashier, with a little sparkle in her eye, trying to be very self-confident and defiant.
"Well," she said, handing the woman her bag full of back-to-school supplies, "there is nothing wrong with old school."
Wait ... she wasn't totally old school. She has an iPod and a cellphone like everyone else in the free world. She knows about Twitter. It wasn't as though she wasn't current and hip and trendy. Okay ... maybe not totally hip and trendy. But still cool, right?
But she wasn't nineteen years old anymore either. The woman brought perspective and maturity to the university campus this time around. She brings experience. And, she also brings a different level of commitment and an interest that she did not have twenty years ago. This time, she would learn things with a deeper understanding. That is not to say that she did not learn things before. Because staying out with friends until dawn and then doing the same thing the next night was a skill that came in handy for dealing with newborn babies and sick children.
There is nothing wrong with writing notes ... the woman wanted to be a writer afterall. And writers write. Some authors still write their novels long hand ... not very many, but there are some who still do.
Yep, the woman thought, there is nothing wrong with old school.
But she was in the spirit of learning. A laptop on campus could come in handy ... she did have a blog to maintain and she can't study the entire day. She turned to her daughter and said, "Come on, Martie. Let's go check those cute laptop bags I've seen in all the magazines."
Disclaimer: Although this is a fictionalized account, the facts are true - school supplies were purchased and the cashier did tell the woman she was "old school." Real names have changed to protect the innocent.
