Nothing to see here...

That's it; I'm gone. Picked up and moved to the all-new Hypergraffiti.

Dear Blogger,

Dear Blogger,

It hardly seems possible that we've been together less than a year. What wonderful times we've had -- going right back to those shy early blogs when you helped me build my confidence to today, nine months later, when I feel confident calling myself a "blogger" (just like you! I've even taken your name!)

You've always been good to me. I have no real complaints, and I've treasured our time together. Sure, we never became a "hot item" with dozens of comments piling up under each post, but you've given me the freedom to express myself, and I think my friends and family have enjoyed spending time with us.

But now ... I have to go.

No, no, it's not you -- it's me. I've -- well, I'd better just be honest -- I've met someone else.

It was just a fling at first ... just checking out another site, seeing what it had to offer. I didn't think it would be any harm to register. Just an innocent little flirtation.

But I have to admit, my new love can offer me things you can't. No, it's not your fault -- it's more that my needs have changed. I've learned to appreciate a lot of qualities I didn't even know I needed. For the last couple of weeks I've been spending all my time with this new love of mine. You must have noticed I haven't been around as much. Did you suspect something was wrong?

I could stay with you and pretend to be content, but we'd both know I was living a lie. It's better if I leave so we can both start over. I'm excited about this new relationship and I can't keep it a secret any longer. It's time to go public, let everyone know where my heart is -- and that means saying goodbye to you, dear Blogger.

Thanks for the wonderful times. I hope you'll be very happy. You're a special, special piece of software and I know others will appreciate you just as I have.

Meanwhile, if anyone's got their bookmarks for my page set to www.hypergraffiti.com , you're already seeing the new site. If your bookmark is set to http://hypergraffiti.blogspot.com , you'll need to change it to www.hypergraffiti.com or http://trudymorgancole.wordpress.com --either one will take you to my new and beautiful WordPress site, where I'll be blogging from now on! Can't wait to see everyone there!!

Love,
Trudy

Newfoundland Spring

Snow and blowing snow.

That's what we had last night, after two or three weeks with no snow, some milder temperatures, and snowbanks melting all around us.

The landscape outside my window this morning looks as white and wintry as January.

Given that this is my 42nd year of life and I lived away from home for eight years, this is my thirty-fourth experience of Newfoundland "spring." I'm quite used to it -- the false hope, the ugliness of the melting dirty snowbanks and everything that's revealed beneath them, the storm that hits just as you've unzipped the inner lining from your winter jacket. I know that what passes for spring here is really the long, slow, painful death of winter, struggling back to life long after we'd thought it gone for good. I enjoy springlike days in March and April, but I don't get my hopes up.

In my last blog post I reviewed the movie Reign Over Me and commented that I liked the realistic way it dealt with recovery from grief. We have such an expectation (fed by media and fiction more than by real life, I think) that recovery from terrible experiences, or any kind of change in life, is a spring-like process. People get better gradually but certainly, moving from a dark cold winter of pain and loss into an inevitable and radiant summer, becoming a little stronger and happier every day.

I teach young people who are trying to finish their high school program after dropping out -- sometimes because of physical or mental illness, or addiction, or abuse, or the aftermath of grief and loss. Watching my students last year as we slogged through "spring" semester towards their June exams, it struck me that making changes in life is less like our ideal picture of spring, and more like a Newfoundland spring. We make two steps forward and one step back -- if we're lucky. Good days and bad days. Whole weeks when you think the worst is over, you begin to hope, you shed your protective layers and walk around enjoying the sunshine. Then the bad things (whatever your personal "bad things" are) hit like a storm, snow and blowing snow whipping around in front of you, and you try to move forward through zero visability and wonder if it will ever end.

Even the good days have their share of ugliness -- the melting snow piles reveal layers of dirt and garbage and dog poop underneath. When the frozen layers that protect us start to melt, there's a lot of stuff beneath them we'd rather not look at. Sometimes it's easier just to retreat inside while another load of snow gets dumped on top.

Recovering from grief or loss, abuse or addiction, or just finding your way in life when you've been lost, is not like spring in the movies. It's not like spring in America, or some idealized picture-book spring with crocuses blooming and robins hopping about on the grass. Change, healing, recovery is more like March in Newfoundland, a hard dirty slog, days of hope punctuated by setbacks.

But a snowstorm in late March is not like a snowstorm in February -- the roads have been cleared, the huge mounds of snow melted, so that even though the visability is poor you have more space to maneuver; you can see where you're going. It's hard to remember in the middle of a March snowstorm that summer is coming -- it seems to remote and unreal. But we're closer to it than we were a month ago. Two steps forward and one step back still puts you ahead of where you were. Change is slow, dirty and frustrating. But it happens. Summer comes, every year.

Another Good Movie

Jason and I got out for a "date night" last night (thanks to Jennifer babysitting!). We had dinner at the Magic Wok and then went to check out what movies were playing. There was nothing we had heard of or cared to see, so we decided to take a chance on a movie we knew nothing about -- something we very rarely do.

The movie was Reign Over Me starring Adam Sandler and Don Cheadle. I know ... Adam Sandler. Normally his presence in a movie is a deal-breaker for me -- I just can't watch his asinine pratfall comedies. Although after Spanglish I did have to concede that he actually can act, so I was willing to pry my mind open a crack. And I do like Don Cheadle, ever since Crash.

So this movie was ... a lot better than I'd thought it would be. Reviews have been mixed, and I can understand what some critics disliked -- the plot rambles a little; it certainly could have been tighter and I'm not sure the filmmakers really knew what they wanted to do with the ending.

But ... that said, Jason and I both thoroughly enjoyed it and found it moving and absorbing. I thought Adam Sandler did an amazing job of portraying a man completely lost in grief as a result of a horrible tragedy. The film did a better job than any movie I've ever seen of exploring how a person recovers (or doesn't recover) from a terrible loss; best of all, it avoided the movie cliche of assuming that once a person opens up and talks about the tragedy, things will start to get better. Because as most of us know, that's when your carefully constructed coping mechanisms fall apart and things really get messy. Both the lead actors are fabulous in this film (as are many fine actors in smaller roles, especially Donald Sutherland in a memorable cameo) but it's Adam Sandler who steals the show by brilliantly showing Charlie Fineman falling apart.

In other news ... I have some new book reviews up at Compulsive Overreader, and I am working on a Grand Plan for a website upgrade which I will unveil sometime over the next few weeks ... watch this space for further developments!

Tragic ... but Stupid

I heard a story on the news yesterday morning that absolutely gutted me -- but made me angry too.

I hate to criticize someone who has suffered the worst tragedy a person can suffer - the loss of a young child -- but I don't understand why the police are calling this a terrible accident no-one could have foreseen, and I don't know why the outcry is all around the dangers of power windows and how car manufacturers should install more safety features.

This parent left a six-year-old and a two-year-old alone in a car with the engine on. Not for a couple of minutes while she ran into the store to get milk either -- although even that would be ridiculous to do with the engine on -- but long enough to go into an office building (where she presumably couldn't see the car) and run an errand. Long enough for the six-year-old to unbuckle the restless two-year-old from her carseat and then, apparently, long enough for the six-year-old to fall asleep in the front seat.

Seriously, this woman has suffered a terrible loss, and it's awful that a moment's carelessness can result in the ending of a young life and such tragedy for the family. But let's call it what it is -- carelessness. Not an unforeseeable accident, not a design flaw in the power windows. You just don't leave two small children alone in a car with the engine turned on. Why would anyone even think that was OK?

Supposedly we live in a society where parents have become hyper-vigilant and everyone is making parents feel guilty about everything they do. And yet every so often something like this comes up in the news and you wonder if anyone is paying any attention to child safety at all??

OK parents out there, in case it didn't occur to you before ... kids don't belong alone in cars with the engine running!!!!! Power windows are only one danger ... there's also the possibility they could put the car in gear and drive into another car, or a building or ... it doesn't bear thinking about. Before we rush to blame the car manufacturer, let's exercise some basic common sense.

Getting Up In Front

Having angsted a little bit in my last post about some of the guilt and worry that goes along with raising your children in church, I want to write about one of the (IMHO) absolute and unadulterated good things that goes along with involving your children in a church community. This is the fact that, as a rule, churchgoing children get more opportunities than non-churchgoing children to develop that marvellous skill known as Getting Up In Front.

Unless a child has a fear of public speaking so morbid and intense that they simply cannot be dragged to the front of a group of people -- or unless you attend a church which is absolutely opposed to the participation of small children, in which case I would have to ask you Why? -- it's almost certain that by the time your churchgoing child has reached the ripe old age of, say, nine or ten, he or she has had the chance to Get Up In Front in numerous Christmas pageants, Mothers' Day and Fathers' Day programs, and similar Sabbath School or Sunday School experiences. He or she has probably had the opportunity to recite a poem, read a Scripture verse, probably even sing or play an instrument in front of an audience of loving and indulgent people who are thrilled just to see the child standing up there. As a teacher I truly believe that children who get these opportunities (in addition to what they do at school) have an edge.

Obviously there are other, non-church organizations that will allow your child this kind of exposure, but you do have to go hunting for them. Whereas if you happen to be going to church anyway, opportunities of this kind just fall into your lap.

I was raised to believe in the virtue of Getting Up In Front; I literally cannot remember the first time I stood up and spoke in front of an audience because it was probably before my conscious memory kicked in. Our children have had the same opportunities, and for the most part (except for a brief burst of stage fright on Chris's part when he was 4 or 5) they have lapped it right up.

Getting Up In Front was a major feature of the fundraising night we just had for our kids' Adventurer Club at church this Saturday night. The evening consisted of desserts and entertainment for the grand sum of $5 entry fee. Sprinkled in between the grown-up entertainers were most of the Adventurer kids, who eagerly volunteered to show off their talents. Emma was one of three children who played little piano pieces, while Christopher played his fiddle. But what made me proudest of all was the fact that Christopher and his friend Kurtis volunteered to MC the event, and actually did a great job of it. They told little jokes each time they got up there, taking turns being each other's straight man, and then announced the performers clearly and concisely -- basically they won the hearts of the audience. It was great.

As was the whole event, its best feature being that it is now Over And Done With, so one of the things that's been keeping me busy and hurried over the past couple of weeks is now finished. Another long-term project is getting wrapped up this weekend, and I'm looking forward to more relaxing days ahead.

Of course, when I'm not Getting Up Front, I like being in the audience ...

I've attended three public performances in the last five days, which is a lot more than I usually get out. You know (if you've ever ordered books from amazon.com) how Amazon tracks what books you buy and uses them to make suggestions for books you might like? They figure they can establish patterns and tell what you're interested in by seeing what you've already bought.

Thank goodness nobody's trying to do that by tracking the performances I've attended recently. I can't imagine what conclusions they would draw.

On Thursday night, I went to a thoroughly enjoyable performance of The Vagina Monologues along with a group of women friends (including Tina, who wrote such a good and thorough review on her blog that I won't even attempt one here).

On Saturday night, I went to the aforementioned fundraiser, which was as close to an old-fashioned church social/talent night as you will find anywhere in the 21st century -- cute little kids and nice talented church people up in front playing their guitars and singing for a good cause.

On Sunday afternoon, I went with Jason, the kids, and some friends to the final regular season game of the St. John's Fog Devils. I would not call myself a big sports fan by any stretch of the imagination, but I can enjoy watching the occasional hockey game, since I at least understand the rules. Our seats were good, and I do like the lively atmosphere of a hockey game -- although "lively" would be an understandment for the high-pitched enthusiasm of the three teenage girls sitting behind us.

So, what conclusions should the invisible spies draw from my tastes in public entertainment? I like frank and honest feminist discussion of the female body; I like local talent; I like hockey? Basically, I just like to get out and see stuff happening; I find it very hard to think of a live event I wouldn't go to, although there are some I wouldn't pay for -- but I'd go to a monster truck rally or a Chinese opera (once, each) if someone bought me a ticket and I had nothing better to do. You couldn't pay me enough to watch strippers (either gender) or "professional" wrestlers, but other than that, I don't have a lot of boundaries in this area. When other people are Getting Up Front, I'm a good audience. I love the energy of almost any live performance.

I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in St. John's who was at all three of these events this weekend. One friend was at the Monologues and also at the fundraiser with me; some of the friends who came with us to the hockey game had been at the fundraiser the night before, but I doubt anyone else hit all three of these diverse events. I wonder if there were any other crossovers between The Vagina Monologues and the crowd at the hockey game? Possibly ... one thing I can say for sure is that during the part of the VM where you have to yell a certain word for the female organ out LOUDLY with the whole audience, those girls behind me at the hockey game would have had a lot to offer. They apparently have no problem Getting Up In Front ... maybe they were taken to church as children.

Giving or Stealing??

My good friend Jamie recently posted in his blog about playing baseball in his youth (something that those of us who know him as an adult find difficult to reconcile with his lack of love for sports, but I'll accept the story at face value). He talks about not being able to join a Little League team because they played on Saturdays. Like me, Jamie grew up as a Seventh-day Adventist, and while Adventist interpretations of how to keep the Sabbath vary wildly from one culture to another, and one family to another, most North American Adventists consider team sports one of those things you Don't Do On Sabbath, and lots of SDA kids miss out on joining a sports team (or a drama class, or other fun extracurricular activity) because it meets during Sabbath hours.

Jamie's reflection on this experience (and yes, I have his permission to quote him and use his thoughts as a springboard for my own), continues: "So no team ball for me. It wouldn't be the last, or the worst, thing my religion robbed me of."

Reading these words yesterday really stopped me cold. I am raising my children in the Adventist church -- we are perhaps more liberal than a lot of SDA families, but one of the things we're pretty conservative about is Sabbathkeeping. Last night my kids missed out on attending a Fog Devils (local junior hockey) game which was a big fundraiser for their school. Their school competed with another school to see who could sell the most tickets to the game, and at the game there were going to be lots of fun activities for the schoolchildren, including the principal of the losing school getting a pie thrown in his face. It was just the sort of fun community event we would have supported 100% had it not been held on a Friday evening.

I realize there's a lot of room for debate even among Sabbathkeeepers about what constitutes proper Sabbath observance, and some Adventists might be quite happy with attending a hockey game on Friday night. That's sort of a particular in-group argument, and not really the point I want to pursue here. Let's just take it as read that this hockey game, while a fun and positive event, is also the sort of secular and commercial event that would be out of tune with how we, as a family, observe the Sabbath -- and explore the question that's really bothering me. By raising my children in this particular religious paradigm, am I robbing them of something? Will they someday resent us for the hockey games and other events that were "stolen" from them because of our religious choices, imposed upon them?

We've had some lively discussions over at Ship of Fools on whether parents have a right to "indoctrinate" their children in their religion, and the general consensus (not that there's ever anything much like "consensus" on the Ship) is that everyone, even atheists, passes on their worldview to their kids whether they want to or not. But if you observe religious practices, particularly ones that are rigid in some ways (and Sabbathkeeping can certainly fall into this category), then you're leaving yourself particularly open for the charge that you've forced your children to miss experiences they would have liked, and to live through experiences they didn't like (my son has an opinion on 45-minute sermons!), in the name of your religious beliefs.

The thing is, there's no way to know how they will view this without knowing what their own spiritual journeys will be like as adults, and that's the one thing I cannot know. I look back on my own upbringing in the church and I am so grateful for it. I think growing up with solid and unquestionable spiritual practices lays a foundation for those practices in adult life. I can think of two things -- taking a day of Sabbath rest every week is one, and tithing 10% of your income is another -- about which I often hear people say, "Oh, that's a wonderful idea, I'd love to do that, but I just couldn't fit it into my lifestyle, even though I'd like to try."

For me, there's no question of "try" -- these things have been a part of my life since I before I was aware of them, and so I don't have to make any effort to fit them into my life: my life has been shaped around them. (I will point out that my husband did not grow up with these practices and is arguably more observant about both Sabbathkeeping and tithe-paying than I am, so it is obviously possible to adopt such practices as an adult, but I do think it's more difficult). Despite the odd few interesting classes or concerts I've missed because of Friday night or Saturday scheduling, I am deeply grateful for a non-negotiable day each week which is completely dedicated to rest, worship and renewal. It's the reason why I can sit here blogging, guilt-free -- or, earlier this afternoon, lying by the fire reading -- when I have the hugest pile of dirty dishes you have ever seen in the kitchen sink downstairs. (We had family over for dinner last night, and the water buffalo is not doing his job!) Sabbath rest is simply a part of how I live, and so I view the fact that I was raised with it as a gift, rather than something that was stolen from me.

But I can see how I could so easily have turned out with the opposite view. I know far too many people who have been scarred by a fundamentalist or conservative religious upbringing, people who were made to carry a huge burden of guilt for trivial "sins"; people who have struggled to emerge from a worldview that simply didn't fit them; people who are angry about having been baptized as infants into a faith they have never accepted as their own. And people who are angry about having been raised with no faith at all, and left to figure it out all on their own.

It's a big question mark for parents -- what isn't??! -- and all we can do, I think, is to teach kids the things we think are important, try to do it with love and not harshness, and give them the critical thinking skills and the permission to seek and find their own truth as adults.

I don't know what my children will come to believe. I would be happy if they both grew up to be active but fairly liberal Seventh-day Adventists, exactly like me and their father, but honestly I know the chances of them adopting our exact same views are slim (and who knows if that position will even be a valid choice in 20 years?). I want them to be interested in spiritual things and pursue a relationship with God in a way that's meaningful to them. I am prepared for the possibility that they will be angry with their parents for some of the religious observances we imposed upon them. I hope they will be grateful for some, too. I even hope they will be mature enough to be able to say, "I haven't chosen to follow exactly the same path as my parents, but I am grateful for the foundation they laid down for me; they taught me what they thought was right."

They weren't too cut up, in the moment, about missing last night's hockey game. They seem to have already accepted "things we don't do on Sabbath" as part of who we are as a family. Last night we had various relatives over for dinner and they had a good time and didn't brood about what they were missing. My dad taped last night's hockey game off the local cable channel for them and we're going to watch it later to see if the pie-throwing and other hijinks made it to air. And tomorrow we're going to a Fog Devils game with some friends from church, which I hope will help make it up to them.

I hope they won't feel I've robbed them; I hope I haven't. But it basically boils down to the perennial parental hope that we're not messing up our kids too badly, and as we all know, only time will tell.