Children of the Corn-y, or Why I Loved the 80s
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I don’t like getting older, necessarily, but the beauty of it is that it’s happening, whether I like it or not. Might as well relax into it. So, what does one do as one’s “twilight” approaches? One reminisces about “what made them cool back in the day.” Nostalgia for children of the 1980s leads automatically to all the cool tchotchkes and fads that defined what cultural historians would eventually call the “Me Generation.” I’m sure it does for children of any decade, but I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about me, us. And, really, can we be honest, here?, children of...
Ten Things I’ve Learned From Downton Abbey Most Of Which I’m Sure Are Historically Accurate
I don't normally watch TV. I prefer sleeping. But, every now and then, I come across a show that grips me for some reason or other, and that's exactly what's happened with Downton Abbey, seen in the United States, via PBS. (On another note, good for PBS. They have a hit show. And that makes me happy). Of course, I find very little to dislike with any show BBC originates, especially in Downton Abbey, not to be confused with Downtown Abbey which is not even a real place; everything about the show works, and I don't know why - even the...
A little note on compassion and the children who aren’t learning about it
Not so very long ago, one of my nephews—none are older than seven, yet—asked me a plain and loaded question. We were eating Sunday dinner at Nana’s and he looked up at me and simply said, “Why do I have to be nice to people?” He wasn’t baiting me; he was honestly asking. Granted, the context had been a Valentine’s Day activity of the sort that seems so obligatory in elementary school where everyone gets a card, even the mean kids, but humiliation is reserved for those who are a little too self-aware. That, sadly, is a family trait we unwillingly share. I countered by...
After that, I ate my chocolate cobbler in silence.
This past Sunday, my youngest nephew, Wynn, who by the way is a few months shy of three and has already rightfully earned the nickname of “Chunk,” turned to me and asked for coffee. “What…did you…say?” I implored of him. “Coffee,” he responded, and then with a nod of the head as if recognizing that he’d forgotten the magic word, added, “pease?” It’s always precious when the little ones remember that fading concept known as “manners.” But, precious aside, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. I went in search of his mother. She wasn’t a bit thrown off by what I felt had...
When I grow up, I want to be a box of crayons.
I’d like to share with you the conversation I had with a man from Maintenance, on campus, this morning, hardly an hour and a half ago. Let me set the scene, for you: I’m teaching my Theatre Appreciation class, which is held each Monday and Wednesday morning in the small theatre studio, a few rooms down from my office. I’m in the middle of my lecture, standing in front of several large benches, set pieces for our upcoming production. My back is both to the door and the darkened stage. One of my students, who insists on being called Poonie May, suddenly...
“I’m the freaking boss of TV, just so you know.”
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, family, humor
I’ve made no little secret about the fact that growing up, as I did, the television was not the center of the universe. Not in our house. It was carefully guarded: it and all its wonders of delicious and suggestive programming. The only television station that I was allowed to watch, almost entirely on my own and un-chaperoned, was good, old PBS. And, oh, how I watched it: Letter People, Clyde the Frog, Voyage of the Mimi, and one of my all-time faves, Read All About It. Even learning, early on, how to convince U.L. that some shows were appropriate—How could they...
A word about lesbians…
Filed under: Deep South, education, faith, family, humor, life
So, Mississippi’s made the news, again. Have you heard? Itawamba County’s School Board has decided to cancel the local high school’s prom because one student, a lesbian, wanted to wear a tuxedo and bring her girlfriend as her date. Of course, the media is licking its chops, I’m sure, over this newest political deep-fried Panic Button. All the more so because it’s straight from the Heart of Dixie, also known as the Buckle of the Bible Belt. It was only a little more than a decade ago, wasn’t it?, when we were splayed across the nation’s newsrooms (again, the culprit being North...
That, right there, is what you call a “teachable moment.”
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, family, humor, life
In one of my flippant, wine-accompanied, philosophical moments, the other night, I found myself saying, “Well, if it’s possible, it’s necessary.” It just fell out. You know, I was standing around, my mouth was open, and then, Boom. There it was, a whole sentence, a sentiment of ontological bent, floating around the room. Now, I usually say things for two reasons: Either I like the way it sounds (which is a sort of philosophy in and of itself), or I’m not aware of what I’m saying (which is more often the case). Of course, far be it from me to retract a statement....
Pointing, by the way, is not polite.
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, food, health, humor, life, theatre
I’ve become a little too close to the janitor, at the college. And it’s not that I mind, not one bit; it’s how we’ve become close that I find amusing and uncomfortable. It involves Miller Light. Sort of. Before I go any further, I want you to be plainly aware that this is not about an academic caste system. And I have a previous story to prove it. Though I rarely tell this story from my Disney Days, prior to having the high-class job of character entertainment and the allure of being an Attractions Host at Disney Studios, I will come clean and tell you that...
So, you know…I really like a potato log.
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, family, food, health, humor
Is there anything, even remotely, more wonderful than a gas-station-deep-fried potato log? I don't think so. No. I. Don’t. Think. So. I am, personally, mad-dog in love with the potato log. I look upon its tasty goodness as a drowning man would a life raft. (I wrote that and then had this visual of being a drowning man and seeing a life raft and then, in that life raft I saw, like, hundreds of potato logs and my heart started beating really fast and I almost had to take half a Xanax). So, you know...I really like a potato log. It has taken a place of supreme...
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