I never watch the Grammy awards. I couldn’t tell you who half the artists are that are recognized on the show, but last night I tuned in to watch the Dixie Chicks perform and was thrilled with what I witnessed.

After long last, the Dixie Chicks were celebrated, not only their talents, but for their defiant stand to support America’s freedom of speech. I have long said the American public (more specifically country music) owed the Chicks an apology. Last night, receiving all five of the awards they were nominated for, including the incredibly ironic Best Country Album, the Dixie Chicks stood proud for the fight they fought for all of us, the right to speak your mind. As I tuned in to my standard country music station this morning, I wasn’t at all shocked to find no mention whatsoever of the Chicks’ accomplishment last evening, it is now par for the course, but I didn’t find it difficult at all to turn off the station and turn on my “Taking the Long Way” Dixie Chicks CD. The Chicks don’t owe it to anyone to “make nice”, they’ve done us all proud. It’s time country music owed up to it’s hypocrisy by not only apologizing, but by playing music regardless of personal political beliefs. It is, afterall, the American thing to do.

I’m not sure how I came across having Christopher Moore in my notes as an author worth reading, I think I need to keep better track of who recommends what to me.

I read the first hundred pages and have quit. I never quit on a book, but this is such a weird, darkly satirical novel, full of profanity and evil spirits that I simply do not wish to continue. If you are a Moore fan, perhaps you can tell me how to get past the profanity and cult references to actually find his writing to be humorous.

If you’re not familiar with Moore, I don’t recommend him.

Now, on to Lonesome Dove, which I have no doubt I will enjoy tremendously.

So, when I started this blog thing, I thought it’d just be for fun. And it is, but the more I do it, the more it has become a scrapbook/journal thingy and the more I’m beginning to think I want to make sure it exists for awhile.

So, I pose the question to all the bloggers out there who are far more html savvy than me (than I?): How can I save my blog onto a disc, or publish it onto a hard copy or in some way PRESERVE all my hard work in case something bad should happen to Blogger?

I’m already noticing when I go back to link older posts that some of the pictures no longer come up. What’s with that?

Anyone know?

Anyone?

Bueller?

HELP!

I believe I have read Lamb’s previous novel, “She’s Come Undone” but without my ever-faithful shelf of books, I can’t be certain. If I have, it’s been awhile.

“I Know This Much is True” is an undertaking not to be taken lightly. The enormity of the book itself mirrors the enormity of the battles within. The story is told through the voice of an indentical twin in his 40’s, as he wrestles with his past, the history of his family, the schizophrenia of his twin brother and his present relationships. As his story unravels for the reader, we are also given the chance to read a novel of his grandfather’s writing, a history that traces back the long reach of abuse in the narrator’s family, a legacy of broken people, a parable on the exploitation of power.

As we struggle alongside the narrator to uncover the truths to the mysteries that plague the novel, we find the plot only thickens as answers are elusive. Lamb tells in tanglible detail a personal history that has raged like a river through this family. The detail is rough, crass, and even gruesome. His characters are troubled, selfish and broken. The plot is huge in scope and yet particular in it’s detail. Seek answers and find only more questions.

I was captivated by the novel by the mid-point. The characters had attached themselves to me and I was eager to pay witness to their struggle, to hope for their personal recovery, to plead for their forgiveness. Beyond the mid-point, I struggled to take it all in. I wanted more answers and fewer questions. I wanted something to play out with grace and dignity and nothing did. I, like the narrator had grown tired of fighting the fight for absolution.

Lamb wraps up the ending in his own due time, following his own lengthy course. Some answers were not difficult to predict, some outcomes feel more similar to what he hoped would happen than to what seems realistic, but we reach a point where we understand that for the fight of all that was unknown through the novel, throughout the life of the narrator, we do, perhaps, alongside each other, come together at the end to understand a few certain truths.

While I’m not certain I would put this book near the top of my “must-read” list for life, it was certainly a book that I will think over for awhile. A struggle with questions not unfamiliar; a lesson on the necessity of forgiveness that we all need to hear. Sometimes it is not the answers to questions that we wrestle with that bring our lives meaning, but the process of wrestling through the questions. At least from my own life, I know this much is true.

I think Peyton Manning should send Rex Grossman to Disney World as a thank you for the gift of his first SuperBowl win. It wasn’t so much that Rex lost the game for the Bears as he gift wrapped it and hand delivered it for the Colts.

At least people will stop talking about ‘when’ Peyton will win a big game, though.

And Tony Dungy deserves the Championship.

When I moved to the East Coast nearly 9 years ago, I was astounded by how frequently people stopped to ask me where I was from. People all around me noticed immediately from my speech that I wasn’t ‘from here’. Having been raised in northern Illionis, it had never crossed my mind that I had an accent. Where I live in Pennsylvania, we are situated south of the New England/Boston/New York accents, west of the Jersey accent and north of anything southern. I had not recognized there was a uniqueness to this area as well.

Sometimes it wasn’t an accent per se that gave me away, it was my choice of words. Over the years, I’ve learned to say ‘pocketbook’ instead of ‘purse’, sometimes I even say ‘carriage’ for a stroller. No one here goes to the ‘beach’, they all go to the ‘shore’. If I listen closely, I notice a difference in the way people say ‘water’ here, it sounds more like ‘wudder’, but in general, I’ve learned to tame my Chicago ‘A’ sound and have changed the way I say ‘pajamas’, ‘radiator’ and sometimes even ‘aunt’ depending on whom I’m speaking to.

Having just watched an interview with a Brit named Bear Grylls (from Discovery’s ‘Man v. Wild’) and I have to say, if I could choose how to speak, I would speak like he does. There is something so incredibly proper and sophisticated and intelligent in the way a Brit speaks (in my mind). Perhaps it would lose it’s appeal if I lived there and I understood the slang and noticed the dropped syllables and the mispronunciations, but it seems as if the language is cleaner, and more correct than ours is anymore. Even their idioms seem more entertaining and creative. Their word choices seem to elevate a conversation to a more sophisticated level.

I am sure to some, the English accent and even the East Coast accent sound snobbish (I hear you nodding, Bear and Jules). And I am certain my Dad and Judy would have much to say about learning the southern speak after they moved to Tennessee a number of years ago. My brother, G, switches between a southern drawl and his Illinois upbringing anytime you talk with him.

All I can say is, if Hallmark would make a talking card with a British Accent, it would be the best Valentine card ever.

I could not begin to review this book and do it justice. I will simply quote the author. “Hidden blessings inside suffering. This is ultimately what “Little Altars Everywhere” is about. We are given our lives, our fear, our broken bones and broken hearts. Breaks create openings that were not there beefore, and in that space grow the seeds for new creation.”

Exactly what I needed today. Thanks, Poka, for the recommendation.

I need to apologize. Remember all those times when I was a kid and you told me to do something a hundred times and I didn’t do it? Remember when you paid for piano lessons and for my flute and even later for my oboe, and you insisted that I practice, but I didn’t, or I said I did, but I really didn’t? Remember when you told me to plan ahead with my homework so I wouldn’t have it all to do in one night? Remember when we stayed up late the night before that big math project was due so I could get it done because I hadn’t planned ahead? Remember when you told me to double check my work to make sure I turned in my best but I rushed through it and turned it in incomplete anyway? Remember when you took me to some cool event (no, not the Captain and Tennille concert) and I moaned and groaned about how miserable it was going to be, and even during the event I was completely uninvolved and distracted but afterwards I spoke like it was the most amazing thing I’d ever done? Remember how it took teamwork between the both of you not to kill me before we got home? Remember when you wanted to take me out to do something nice for me as a surprise but I spent the whole time complaining about some silly little issue that you turned the car around and went home instead? Remember how I thought you were always wrong and I was always right? Remember how I resented how you pushed me to do and to be my best even though it helped me to get an academic scholarship and then a 4.0 in my major? Remember all those times I just drove you batty as a child? I AM SO SORRY!!!!

All I can say is, paybacks are hell.

Love,

Eliza Jane

I was certain I had read Maeve Binchy before, but none of her titles are ringing a bell. Maybe I’ve just heard her name so often I assumed I had read her. “Tara Road” is another library book sale book I picked up. As the author’s name would suggest, the book is set in Dublin, Ireland. “Tara Road” tells the story of a number of characters, interwoven throughout a twenty year period. The main focus is on Ria, whose marriage and friendships serve as the common denominator that connects the characters.

I could summarize the plot but so could you without ever reading the book. If I told you Ria meets a dashing, charming man who sweeps her off her feet in her 20’s, you could finish the sentence and the story by saying he probably betrays her and leaves her in her 40’s. If I said she is surrounded by several close friends and family members, you could probably peg their personalities, even if you didn’t know which belonged to whom. Surely there would be the friend who is married, too, but not as richly, not as romantically (her sister); of course there would be the friend who is always there in times of trouble, an extremely successful, independent icon of a woman who mysteriously never marries, a fact that leads us to easily realize she must be having an affair with Ria’s husband (Rosemary); there would have to be the cynic in her life (Ria’s mother) and the friend who is worse shape than she is and balances out the themes of unearned abundance and hard-earned poverty (Gertie). Perhaps you might even suggest a few minor characters to throw in, surely a mistress (or two) will come into play (Orla, Bernadette, even Polly); and some character must represent the sinister side of humanity, the side of greed and arrogance abundant in novels, (Barney).

Given the already overly-simplistic, idealistic plot line that a high school writing student might have drafted, it’s not hard to take the next step and dream up the conflict. Upon knowing that her husband has betrayed her, what will Ria do? Of course she will do something that both drastic and assertive (the contrary would be even worse reading), but also something that will demonstrate the strength of a woman and of friendships. Binchy introduces us at this point of the novel to Marilyn, an American, who through a very fast and barely thought-out negotiation, occurring at the perfect time, swaps houses with Ria for the summer. And it’s not hard at all to realize that Ria will find herself, her independence, her worth and her ability to support herself during this sojourn.

It’s a sweet, simple story of friendship. I guess I’m just looking for a plot that I can’t surmise on page 5. I can appreciate conflicts that I can relate to, or that are familiar to me, but it doesn’t make exciting reading material. In my mind, a book filled with stereotypical relationships doesn’t make a bestseller without a creative perspective, a unique plot or matchless depth and “Tara Road” lacks them all.

If you’re looking for an easy, summer, beach book, this might be one, if you can get it cheap. If you’re looking for something unique, something to remember for awhile, something that leaves a sweet taste in your mouth, this isn’t the book.