Monkeys, Maids, and Other Polically Incorrect Things

I am a reader. This is not a new thing. I have been a reader since I was born. (Okay, someone else was doing the reading then, but I still enjoyed it.) When I was little, my mom read my books to me so many times that I could recite many of them, and it was a family pastime to have me do this for company. I guess it's fun to make people think your three year old can read. I had favorites back then, and some of them have stayed with me over the years. I loved Curious George. (So I'm not super original. Sue me.) I loved Dr. Seuss and Madeline and Corduroy and all the other books that mothers read to their babies. Some children's books I discovered as an adult. I'm obsessed with A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner. I adore anything by Beatrix Potter (so much so that I even sat through that mediocre sapfest of a film with Renee Zellweger and Ewan McGregor.)

I am also a book collector. It is not enough for me to love a book. I have to own it. My children's book collection is significant, and I have been lugging it from house to house for my entire adult life. And now, my book hoarding has finally paid off. With the arrival of Lucy Addison, I now have a legitimate excuse to display and read from all my childhood favorites. So every day, I pull out the Boppy, prop up the baby, and read a good book.

This revisiting of my old favorites, however, has brought to my attention the politically incorrect nature of some of the classics. Now, I am not one to be particularly P.C., but I must admit that I did get a little chuckle thinking about how they are selling these less-than-modern tomes to children at your local B&N. In a world where everything has a non-offensive title (I'm not short, just vertically challenged), it's nice to know that we can count on classic children's literature to take us back to a different time.

Amelia Bedelia - The story of an artless, hapless maid with a penchant for taking things much too literally was one of my childhood favorites. Upon re-reading, however, I was shocked to find our friend Amelia working away in what amounts to a modified French Maid outfit, complete with lace apron and cap. Nothing says, You're my inferior, like making your employees dress in what would now be considered a Halloween costume. Then there is the cavalier way with which Mr. and Mrs. Rogers hire, fire, and re-hire poor Amelia Bedelia. I'm certain that she's not getting any health benefits at that job. Perhaps the president could use the frequently unemployed maid as his new poster child for the health care bill. I'm sure it would improve his standings in the polls for the under ten set. Also hearkening back to a time long ago (and maybe never) was the way which Mrs. Rogers lives. Not only does she have a maid, but she has a sewing circle, for crying out loud. Neither Mrs. Rogers nor any of her lady friends have jobs. So why do they all need maids? Oh, that's right, to clean their mansions. Now there's some relatable characters for today's youth. Either you're so rich that you have a staff to wait on your every need, or you're so poor that you must wander the streets looking for work (See Come Back, Amelia Bedelia.) Don't worry, A.B., you're still one of my favorites, and I swear I don't find it offensive that the only reason the Rogers take you back at the end of each book is because you can bake.

Curious George - So this little primate was definitely before the days of the Crocodile Hunter and Animal Planet. We are introduced to our long-limbed friend as he swings happily about his jungle binging on bananas and just being, well, curious. Then along comes the Man in the Yellow Hat, or as I will henceforth refer to him, The Man. The Man tells George that he knows somewhere where he'll be very happy...the zoo. Are you kidding me? Our monkey friend seemed just fine swinging on vines in his (probably doomed, let's be honest here) rainforest. The Man honestly thinks he'll be happier in the ZOO? Never mind the fact that he tricks George into a bag to trap him. Now there's some light reading for children. Just when you thought it couldn't get any more politically incorrect, poor, little George gets thrown in jail for playing with the phone and calling the fire department! (And while we're on that subject, what fire department has the number 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9? And shouldn't a monkey that can work a rotary phone be congratulated not imprisoned? I have trouble dialing the numbers on my cell phone's touch screen.) Of course, this is a children's book, and it simply must have a happy ending. So what becomes of our mixed-up monkey? Does he hop a jet back to the jungle and live happily ever after? No. He gets dumped in a zoo where The Man buys him and all the other trapped animals balloons. That's right. Balloons. And let us not forget that there is actually a book entitled, Curious George Gets a Job. I wonder if his employer pays for insurance.

Beatrix Potter's stories - Forget the outrage over violent television and video games. Miss Potter had it all covered way back in the day with her fantasy-meets-horrific-realism stories or as I would like to rename Peter Rabbit's story, When Farmers Attack. That's right children. This is not just a morality tale of do good things or bad things will happen. This story is VERY specific. Do what your mother says or you will get eaten and die. Kudos to Mr. MacGregor, though, for his clever mocking of the naughty Peter by hanging his jacket on a stick in the garden. That's not disturbing at all.

These are only three small examples of the politically incorrect nature of the books I treasure, and it is these very details that, in part, make them so dear to me. I'm not naive enough to say they hearken back to a simpler time, so we'll just say a different time. And yes, Lucy Addison will be hear about Madeline and her life in a Catholic girls' boarding school where the parents never visit their children. At some point, she'll probably even read some Mother Goose in all its Gothic horror.

She will not, however, be sung "Rock-a-bye-Baby" as a lullaby. A song about a child falling out of a tree? A girl's got to draw the line somewhere.

Technophiliac

When did I become that person who perpetually has a phone attached to their head or whose fingers are frequently found to be flying over a tiny keyboard texting away? I have become so addicted to all this technology in such a short time. Less that 2 years ago, I believed I was as likely to join Facebook as I was to start shopping at Abercrombie & Fitch. (That's who I imagined populated Facebook - the 20 year olds who people the A&F ads.) I also scorned texting and was only able to gaze longingly at the iPods that everyone but me seemed to own.

June 2009: I sit at my laptop typing away at my blog while my cell phone sits on the arm of my chair just in case I get a text message. While I type, my iPod Nano plays my favorite tunes that I purchased from iTunes. I just finished uploading pictures from tonight onto my Facebook profile.

What changed? When did I go from being the girl who didn't even own a VCR 9 years ago to this plugged in, logged on, status updating woman I am now? The first and most obvious answer would, of course, be Steve. Nobody loves technology like my gadget craving sweetie. When we first started dating, he would bring his DVD player to my apartment so we could watch movies. (I didn't have cable at the time.) I remember being so impressed that he owned a DVD player.

Then we got married.

I got a cell phone "just for emergencies," since I would have such a long drive to work. While Steve always had the newest, coolest phone, mine was the most basic model in existence. I was okay with that. What did I need with some fancy phone that I probably couldn't figure out anyway?

I suppose another reason that I've slipped into this hi-tech addiction is my return to college. Nobody is more technologically savvy (at least when it come to communications and music storage devices) than college students. I watched my new (and much younger friends text during class without even looking at their phones. I saw them checking their Facebook pages as if their lives depended on their friends' status updates and pictures.

Then these new friends started texting me.

At first I was indignant that anyone would assume I had a texting plan and would send me text messages over seemingly small things. It didn't take me long to realize 2 things, however. #1 - This is the way these people communicate, so I'd better get used to it. #2 - I've never been big on phone conversation with its awkward pauses and meaningless chatter. Texting was the perfect solution to my phone anxiety. Of course, the other way my college friends communicated was Facebook, so I soon found myself signing up for an account "just so I could access things for school."

The third reason I have gone from retro recluse to high-def devotee? I've made friends. When I think back to even 2 short years ago, I am amazed by the number of really wonderful friends I've gained. I've never made friends easily, and consequently, I've always kept to myself. Now, between school and church, I've have this huge (at least huge for me) circle of friends that I want to stay connected to - with texts, status updates, tagged photos, phone calls, and blogs about random nothingness. I don't know how it happened. Apparently I underestimated the sneakiness.

So the cynics out there can say that my cravings for cool phones, downloaded music, and Facebook surfing is just a result of commercialism or that technology isolates us. I'm going to go ahead and disagree with that. Sure I "friend" people on Facebook that I haven't seen in years and may never see in person again, but I also plan lunch dates, read my friends' good news, and share photos.

Though I may have become a bit of a techonphile, I haven't become jaded yet. I still get a little thrill when I get a text message from someone (beside Steve and my mom, they have to text me.) I check my Facebook "Wall" frequently for postings from friends and find myself beaming when I see a comment on one of my pictures. I see the cool acceptance of others as they smoothly respond to a text or return a voicemail. I'm not there yet. There's still a part of me that thinks, "They must have called/texted me by accident."

Maybe one day I'll see all these texts and postings as a nuisance. Perhaps I'll be able to call up a friend on my cell phone "just to chat." Not today. Today I rush through my blog entry so I can check Facebook. Maybe someone has looked at my latest pics....

Glorious, wonderful, unsurpassable SOLITUDE!

Today has been one of those wonderful peaceful days where there's nothing you have to do, so you're just grateful for everything you manage to do anyway. I even went outside and walked today...that's right, I voluntarily exercised. I'm pretty sure that pigs will be soaring by my window pretty soon, so I'm keeping the blinds closed. After a full weekend and with a busy week to come, I'm enjoying the quiet today. No tv this afternoon: just my laptop and then my book. Tommorow and Wednesday will be full of fiction class, writing center, and meetings for Concept. We're almost to the deadline for decisions about what to include in the 2009 issue of Concept, the literary journal at Converse College. All the girls on staff are amazing, and I'm really excited to hear what they have to say about all the submissions we've received.


Of course, there is one upside to being so busy this week: I get to enter all of my appointments into my newfangled phone. I am now completely obssesed with it. Steve and I spent at least an hour, maybe longer, downloading ringtones online the other night. Now, if you should happen to call me, depending on who you are, my phone will either play the theme from Arrested Developement, the opening music for the Hercule Poirot movies, or the killing music from Kill Bill (also known as the theme from Ironsides.) I even found a ringtone that says, "Bueller...Bueller...Bueller?" for whenever I recieve a text message. Everywhere I go, not only will I be able to communicate in short, cryptic burst of text, but I can also celebrate my dedication to the film, Ferris Bueller's Day Off. If you were to leave me a voicemail, my phone would quote a line from Monty Python's Flying Circus. (I think I chose that one just to annoy Steve.)


Speaking of Steve, he gave me a great idea for a story last night. Isn't it amazing how things come to you. I spent the summer writing and struggling through my complete lack of ideas, and I came back in the fall to suffer through a list of classes that had little to nothing to do with writing. I'm three weeks into my fiction tutorial, and now my brain is brimming with ideas. Steve and I were in the grocery store parking lot just loading our bags into the trunk of our car. Not exactly the place where you go for inspiration. And so here we have Exhibit One for the argument against writing holed up in isolation. Bummer. Now I have one less excuse to stay home.


As for staying home, well, I'm making an effort to be less of a recluse. Every Sunday night, Steve and I go to Life Group with a bunch young marrieds from our church. I'm even going to a women's Bible study on Thursday night - chock full of a bunch of women I've never met. This does not come naturally to me. I'm quite content to stay at home with Steve and the girls (the cats) and watch tv or a movie, maybe play a little Rock Band. But, I am trying to do better. Just last week, things seemed promising. I found out that the girls in our small group also shared a love for all things HGTV. We loved and hated all the same shows. So this week when they were talking about movies, I thought, I can join in this conversation, too. Guess again. Steve must be right, after all. I am the only woman on the face of the earth who doesn't like Sleepless in Seattle. All the women were oohing and ahhing over their favorite chic flicks, and the most I could manage was "I like movies where things blow up." (At least the guy next to me agreed with me.)

Apropos to nothing in this entry, I also wanted to include a picture of the wonderful bunch of kids who invaded our house Saturday night. They were so much fun, and Abby is still asking when they'll be coming back.

One Ringy Dingy

So tonight we had a house full! My kitties went from their sedate, laid-back, stress-free life to an evening of 9 people in the house, five of which were children. Hobson remained unimpressed by the crowd of younguns, but Abby was a star, letting every friendly, little hand stroke her. In fact, I think Abby went into immediate withdrawals when all the willing hands left, and she had to resort to giving Steve and me the sad-nobody-ever-pets-me eyes.

If you know me, you know how I am about the house. I like things neat and tidy and orderly. It's probably a result of 13 years of living in my own house with no one to mess things up but me (or Steve)...well, that and being an only child. So, five kids (four of which were under 12) running around, eating dinner at the coffee table, drinking soda, playing outside (and then in and back out and back in) was a good experience for me. Overall, I think I did pretty well. I couldn't quite relax, but I did manage to keep the cursory glances around the room to a minimum. (And these were great kids, by the way.) Steve, of course, was a cool customer. He just dove in, playing the PS3 with the kids, never breaking a sweat. Whenever we have kids, they're going to love him...and either hate or fear me. Oh well, I supposed every family needs crowd control.

Today was also a big day because I got a new cell phone. This is a big moment in our marriage. For the first time EVER, I have a cooler phone than my husband. I feel this may cause some tension, causing an imbalance in our familial technology equilibrium. Steve just got a new cell phone a few months ago, but while we were standing at the Verizon counter, he had to check with our sales guy to see when he would be eligible to get a phone like mine. I feel such a sense of power...makes me generous. I allowed Steve to play around with my phone for a few minutes this evening. Between the new phone and the new iPod Nano I got for Christmas, I feel like such a technophile. And to think that when I met Steve, I didn't even own a VCR!

Now, it's after midnight and I'm still up on my laptop tapping away at my blog, yet another sign of my technological growth. Unfortnately, there is no technology that will make me want to get up and be at church at 8:45, so I better go to bed!