Category Archives: To Think About

Tea for Two. . .or One

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tea cup I love tea in china teacups. It captures all kinds of cultural and historic overtones—the ladies of Jane Austen’s era exchanging tidbits of gossip along with spoons of sugar, the velvet-covered steel of women’s influence in days gone by, distinctive and very feminine patterns of flowers and swoops and gold tracings.

I’m not sure why. Certainly my family background didn’t lend itself to gentility. On both sides my ancestors were workers, tillers of the soil, hammerers of nails, sellers of dry goods. Whether they even had time to slurp a refined saucer (yes, tea used to be drunk from a saucer, especially if hot), I doubt.

Tea in a china cup is different from a mug of tea or a glass of iced tea. It encourages lingering over, especially with friends. Confidences to be shared, trusts to be built. If I’m alone, it signals relaxation and thoughtfulness, qualities I’ve learned to value as I matured.

I’m guessing if we could get political leaders to sit down over a cuppa, our talks about disarmament and the economy would progress much faster. How can someone think angry thoughts while sipping the fragrant yet simple taste of tea.

So put on the kettle, find your favorite type of drink, put your feet up, and savor. Tea anyone?

Strange Bedfellows

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bed In my rabid youth, I judged my friends by their politics and philosophies. I figured if someone wasn’t at least a left-leaning semi-socialist, they neither cared about the good of society nor read literary novels nor hugged trees. I didn’t want to be around them. I’m sure I had acquaintances who didn’t fit, but I carefully side-stepped discussions in which certain issues might come up.

Fast forward post-marriage and babies, and my outlook changed. Radically. Perhaps it was the consistent disruption of my nights by noisy if anti-war neighbors or the littered mess similar folks left in the wake of their parades and demonstrations. Perhaps it was the lackadaisical attitude of clerks in natural foods stores and cafes, who placed more importance on chatting with their friends than providing service.

I’ve come to believe that walking the walk absolutely over-rides talking the talk. Courtesy is critical, the kind of courtesy rooted in respect, not necessarily in etiquette books. Does an individual cut me off in traffic? His numerous bumper stickers supporting the candidate of my choice don’t prevent my knowing he’s a rude ass. The advocate for the homeless who dumps construction materials from his remodeling all over the alley gets zero points from me for his philanthropy.

This is especially true for people who make hard and fast stands on ethical issues. Puh-leeze. You’re not going to convince me by screaming. Just because you think the system of tipping service staff is patronizing and outmoded, you can’t force me into neglecting a gratuity. So what if you love dogs and want them prancing leash-free around the park? I’m scared of them, and I’ll continue to scold dog owners who don’t restrain their pets. And if I want to snitch a few fronds of dried greenery at the end of the summer from a neighbor for an arrangement, don’t excoriate* me as a thief.

To my surprise, I’m finding some of the nicest, most thoughtful people I know are ones whose choices on the ballot wouldn’t come close to replicating mine. Yes, people should express their opinions. Yes, they should live their lives and conduct their personal affairs as they wish. But as we struggle to walk, run, jog or crawl the rocky road through life, we’d be wise to value the oil that keeps our society functioning smoothly. The most important thing to bring along on the trip is human consideration and compassion, not opinions.

While politics can make strange bedfellows, civility brings even stranger fellows into bed. But to my way of thinking, at least the sheets are clean and the blankets tucked in properly.

* Excoriate: to criticize harshly, condemn

Dark Futures

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What’s your vision of the future? I think we find it nearly impossible to believe life as we know it will continue past our own deaths, so our pictures tend to be catastrophic and depressing. Think of 1984, Brave New World, The Road.

This certainly is true with the current spate of dystopian novels targeted to young adults. Over the past year or so I’ve read four, beginning with The Hunger Games trilogy, continuing with Article 5, Legend: Day and June, and Divergent.

Some interesting points appeared as I reviewed the quartet:
• They all were written by women. When I began reading scifi years ago, few of these novels had female authors, and it was not uncommon for a woman writer to use a male or androgynous pen name.
• They all feature very strong female protagonists. To a greater or lesser degree, they don’t depend on men to get them out of trouble.
• The works all envision a future so wretched I’d certainly entertain the idea of suicide to escape.
• Violence is common, and the women indulge nearly as frequently as the men.
• The heroine has a male companion who verges on being a strong love interest. These are YA books, so the couples don’t have sex.
• There is hope at the end of the book (or the series) that the current order will be overthrown, and freedom, equality, and peace will prevail.
Unfortunately, the sub-genre is becoming formulaic, so I hope writers will start throwing in some surprises. . .NOT including zombies or vampires!

Why do these books appeal to teens, and to adults who don’t rule out the protagonists in their books by their ages? Yes, the tomes are escapist and entertaining, but I think there’s a little more at work. Consider this:
• Humans want perfection or as close as we can get in our everyday lives, but we also long for challenges. These plots provide thought-provoking trials
• We need contact and love, but we also seem to lust after violence and hate. As long as we’re not in danger. Stand-ins for brutality, cruelty, and sadism thrive in the narratives.
• It’s kind of nice to think the world will go to hell after we leave it. Like a mother saying, “I told you so” to the child who burns himself with a match.
• Through these books, we can explore the paths our society might be on, as well as eternal questions of good and evil, justice and injustice, individuals and groups, albeit in greatly simplified approaches.

I think I’m close to my limit on this type of novel, primarily because their visions are restrictive and repetitive. But I have something up my sleeve. My own dystopian novel entitled Emancipation. Whether it ever sees the light of day will depend on my reaching an Utopia, in which publishers are beating down my door to release my work.

Good Job! No Problem!

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Recently waiters, clerks, even folks holding an elevator door for me have burbled “No problem” in response to my request for help.  Puzzling because I’m not sure my request would be a problem even under the worst circumstances.  Why does my call for a glass of water, or inquiry if a dress comes in my size, or a gasped appeal for a short delay in an elevator ride result in this response rather than “yes” or “sure” or a British-like “certainly.”  

I’m not offended, simply curious how the phrase caught on. Its users are almost always under the age of 30 or 35; they frequently work in a service industry. Do they mean they’d let me know if they have a problem with my bidding?  I can’t imagine anyone responding, “No, that’s a problem” and slamming a door in my face or refusing to refill my coffee.  

I’m not the only person who’s noticed this.  A commentator on a national news show feels wait staff are substituting the term instead of saying “you’re welcome.”  I think its usage is broader; it also functions as general fill-in-the-blank verbiage and as a synonym for “I hear you.”  

Perhaps I should be grateful for this small sign of language adapting to new needs.  It confirms the vitality of English and its speakers.  But it brings me to another phrase I DO have a problem with—good job!  I first heard this maybe 15 years ago, used by a mother of three young boys on an airplane.  I was very impressed by her calm demeanor and positive words to the trio.  I’ve learned to use the phrase with my grandchildren, and it’s become so engrained, it’s automatic.  

I was drawn up short recently in a restaurant when my waiter used the phrase on me.  I’d eaten every scrap, and he lauded, “Good job!”  My response?  “Does it look like this body needed all that food?”  He laughed, but I began to wonder if (1) I look as simple-minded as a young child, or (2) if I use the term too much?  Some child-rearing specialists are pondering this point themselves.  “Good job” may be too obviously reinforcing the adult’s desired behavior. . .it doesn’t encourage the child to make decisions on his own. . .is too judgmental.  (See http://www.alfiekohn.org/parenting/gj.htm)  

Food for thought, and certainly no problem.

The Days That the Rains Came Down

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Floods of near Biblical proportions. Hardly. But that’s been the description of Colorado’s weather this September as deluges, torrents, surges, and crests inundated what normally is semi-arid country. While “100-year flood” is a fairly common description, ours this year has been more like a 500-year level.

Have people been taken by surprise? Certainly those who build on or travel over flood plains shouldn’t be. Yet we don’t normally expect waters to mount so high out of their ordinary channels that they escape bounds and cover nearby acres. It’s easy to think, “Well, we should build more wisely.” But we simply can’t anticipate every contingency.

I kind of like that. I like knowing people aren’t omnipotent, despite our illusions to the contrary, that the natural world exists beyond our control, and we’d better remember that. Still for reasons unknown, the public complains. “The storm sewage system is inadequate.” “The schools should have water-tight basements.” “Why aren’t there broader shoulders on mountain roads to catch the slides?”

It might be that our world has so few real challenges that we need natural disasters. Humanity hits its highs and lows at these times. We always hear stories of heroism and tragedy. The media has something to spotlight other than a film star’s marriages or the stock market’s changes. We all have a chance to think “what if” and chatter about a near-miss we’ve had. Like this one: I was going to drive to a mountain town with several friends on the first day of the rains. The downpour didn’t look that heavy along our route. My wiser companion pointed out that our highway went through mountain areas with steep, rocky, and bare slopes, and mud- and rock-slides could be a problem. We cancelled the trip. Sure enough, whoosh!, slides hit the route we would have traveled.

We should realize we can’t prepare for every single potential disaster. If we go with the flow a little more, and enjoy challenges as they come along, appreciating our participation in and survival of nature’s vagaries, we might approach my two-year-old grandson’s attitude. When he spotted the flood in his basement, he ran for his swim suit, begging his mom to take him down to the “Pool! Pool!”