November: That's It, Just One Line - La Isla Bonita

"It all seems like yesterday not far away"

Across the Prairie: Modern Day Laura Musings

If Laura were a teacup...?

This entry originated as a Facebook post on August 8, the beginning of my trip as I loaded up on the Hampton Inn complimentary buffet breakfast. Suppose I should have posted this first instead of last, but glad to take the time after my trip to muse this thought, once again: 

I wonder who Laura would be in the modern era, had she been born in 1967 instead of 1867. It’s an interesting contemplation of the roots of her brilliance: was she a product of her circumstances or was it in her regardless? She loved books, music, storytelling, and her handsome hero Farmer Boy. In between teaching in rural red schoolhouses, she wrote essays and poetry. Raising chickens, she wrote newspaper columns. Sewing buttonholes and scraping together a dollar to move to Missouri, she kept a diary. And after Ma and sister Mary died, she began taking notes.

I imagine modern-day Laura would be living a life similar to one of my other favorite Wisconsin writers, Michael Perry, a guitar-playing, firefighting, farmer who built a shed in the woods in order to drink terrible coffee and write.

I’m sitting here wondering what I get out of these excursions across the plains to stare at replica cabins, musty quilts, handwritten school tablets, and broken china. She told historical fiction about the founding of our country and some of that history is problematic in our modern era; she really painted Ma with a broad, racist brush and asked Pa some hard questions about who the land really belonged to. In her version of the events in which she created the stories that became Little House on the Prairie, I am conflicted with her point of view of Indigenous People; was she othering them when she wanted the baby in the papoose, or was she, in her child-like point of view, connecting with the plight of the Osage through the baby's eyes?

I feel like these books are an important stepping stone towards dialogue as opposed to dismissiveness. After all, I do believe she was quoted as saying if she were a part of the Osage tribe, she would have scalped the first man who tried to claim the beautiful prairie from her. 

I think she leaned into compassion for the plight of the Indians during that time in history but she missed the mark; I'm also judging her 90+ years later. 

Back to her as a more spirited writer, when she wrote, she invited you to delight in a delicious drink of lemonade, find magic playing in a creek, and find a connection to her humanity from long ago.

Will never got into the books but loved the chapter when Laura got a time out for being naughty, he knew exactly how she felt. She hooked me when I picked up On the Banks of Plum Creek, where she noted upon seeing the swimming hole for the first time that suddenly, her whole skin was thirsty; I too knew exactly how that felt.

It’s remarkable that her homesteads still exist, thank goodness for land records from 1870 and 1880. Seeing her living spaces—and not some soundstage—demonstrates how the magic she saw in her surroundings was real.

Good lord, this is a ramble. Best hitch up the Bronco and hit the road.

November 2024: Rethinking Purple

Oh yeaaaaaaah!

Purple is...

Taste: grape Kool-Aid, which kids often request as purple

Touch: chenille sweater that has been worn in

Smell: lavender flowers with a hint of summer 

Hear: Clair de Lune, Debussy 

WTF

It appears we didn't understand the assignment. And a mediocre man takes it from an accomplished woman. We are ok with doing all the heavy lifting but leadership? Aw, that's just going too far...

Americans failed on November 5. 

Why Art Matters: The Lighthouse

Girls, you know what you have to do today...

The Lighthouse, Stevie Nicks
I have my scars, you have yours
Don't let them take your power
Don't leave it alone in the final hours
They'll take your soul, they'll take your power
Don't close your eyes and hope for the best
The dark is out there, the light is going fast
Until the final hours, your life's forever changed
And all the rights that you had yesterday

Are taken away
And now you're afraid
You should be afraid
Should be afraid

Because everything I fought for
Long ago in a dream is gone
Someone said the dream is not over
The dream has just begun, or
Is it a nightmare? Is it a lasting scar?
It is unless you save it and that's that
Unless you stand up and take it back
And take it back

I have my scars, you have yours
Don't let them take your power
Don't leave it alone in the final hours
They'll take your soul, they'll take your power
Unless you stand up and take it back
Try to see the future and get mad
It's slipping through your fingers, you don't have what you had
You don't have much time to get it back

I wanna be the lighthouse
Bring all of you together
Bring it out in a song
Bring it out in stormy weather
Tell them the story

I wanna teach 'em to fight
I wanna tell 'em this has happened before
Don't let it happen again

I have my scars, you have yours
Don't let them take your power
Don't leave it alone in the final hours
They'll take your soul, they'll take your power
Unless you save it and that's that
Unless you stand up and take it back
Try to see the future and get mad
It's slipping through your fingers, you don't have what you had

You don't have much time
You gotta get in the game
You gotta learn how to play
You gotta make a change
You gotta do it today

In the midnight hour, they'll slam the door
Make you forget what you were fighting for
Put you back in your place, they'll shut you down
You better learn how to fight, you better say it out loud

Typing Out Loud: Seeing the Human in the Human

She looks so much like our host daughter Abby in this pic.

At the time of this writing, we are looming in on the eventual end to the election. I know how I'm going to vote, but I am exhausted. 

What is startling to me is the immature rhetoric behind, well, EVERYTHING. One social media post, while praising Taylor Swift for her generous donation to a Louisiana-based food bank on her stop there for the Eras tour, felt the need to drag Kid Rock, assuming Bob Ritchie hasn't done much for his fellow American. 

Oh my no: see blog post from 2012. I may not agree with his politics, but there's no doubt to his charitable works. Ted Nugent as well. 

I sobbed. Plus, fringe.

Also random, the next post was the top 20 countdown from 1980, and at #8 was Stephanie Mill's "Never Knew Love Like This Before." This made me think of the villain, Candy in the show POSE. She was the victim of a hate crime, and the subsequent fantasy montage was of her dancing and lip-syncing to her own funeral, attended by the members of her community in mourning. 

I don't see myself as religious, so this may seem hypocritical, but I beg of you all to see people through the eyes of God. Maybe it will help tame the hateful mud-slinging that is happening now and, I'm guessing, for the next few months. It possibly depends on who wins and who exhibits grace. 

All things on short supply. 

November 2024: Best Meal I Ever Ate: Salad

Yeah, I said it, a SALAD.

I was traveling to Minnesota on a girl's vacation with Lanette and Denise to attend an adult skate camp. It was pretty dash-dash-dash as we were all wrapping up a day at work to take an evening flight up to the Twin Cities. 

No time for dinner and it was a full flight for a short trip, so no free pretzels or peanuts. 

The moment we landed we saw that we were in a minority in our hotel, as it was packed with teenage hockey boys who had the nerve to be afraid of us. Since this trip was an athletic endeavor, we wanted something healthier and a bit more sophisticated than fighting for a table at the burger restaurant in the shared parking lot. 

A quick search for the best restaurants in the area yielded Cooper's Pub. I saw the niçoise salad and had to try it. Spinach, tuna tartare, hard-boiled egg, tomatoes, capers, olives, and chilled French green beans with a simple lemon vinaigrette. I was satisfied, full but not stuffed. 

We had drinks and enjoyed our night out watching the Tigers play the Twins before training diligently for the next three days. In a case of missed opportunity, we resisted the gourmet donuts at the local grocery store, which I suspect would have resulted in the Best Donut I Ever Ate. 

Such is the sacrifice of an adult athlete.