Tuesday, February 26, 2013

"There Are No 'Good Old Days'"

I read this essay earlier today and have been thinking about it ever since. It makes me think of those times when students say that people in the nineteenth-century had morals and values (unlike our own time, the implication goes). And I so appreciate the writer's analysis of O'Connor's "A Good Man is Hard to Find," which I teach regularly but struggle with when explaining the grandmother's words to the Misfit. Here are the essay's last two paragraphs, which I find quite moving and humble:

n the instant before her death, the Grandmother has a moment of revelation – the Misfit, a murdering criminal, is her “child,” a reflection of herself and her own wickedness, a product of her own hypocrisy and self-righteousness. The irony of the tale is that a good man is hard to find, not because of the times, but because there are no good men – then or now – except for One.
Essentially, a “good old days” response to the problems of our time is a form of blind self-righteousness, an attitude that says we and our time (or the time we yearn after) would have never committed the same errors of the present age; people were at one time good (or polite, kind, safe, etc.), but no longer. However, as Christians, we cannot accept this attitude. First of all, we must continually be aware of and preaching that since the Fall, all men are broken and evil, from all times and places. The pendulum of culture and civilization swings from one extreme to another, but each time, each era and century and decade, has its flaws, most of which are unrecognized by those within it. As believers, we must do the work of first reminding ourselves of our own personal and cultural brokenness (both in the present and the past) and of working to make ourselves aware of the real vices of our own age, vices which we are most likely unaware of. Second, we must work to rid ourselves of this subtle and dangerous form of self-righteousness, one that masks itself in fuzzy nostalgia. We must recognize that all people, past and present, including (and especially) ourselves, are all Misfits in need of the only One who ever raised the dead.
- See more at: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/christandpopculture/2013/02/there-are-no-good-old-days/#sthash.OLh5F2sH.dpuf
"In the instant before her death, the Grandmother has a moment of revelation – the Misfit, a murdering criminal, is her 'child,' a reflection of herself and her own wickedness, a product of her own hypocrisy and self-righteousness. The irony of the tale is that a good man is hard to find, not because of the times, but because there are no good men – then or now – except for One.
 
Essentially, a 'good old days' response to the problems of our time is a form of blind self-righteousness, an attitude that says we and our time (or the time we yearn after) would have never committed the same errors of the present age; people were at one time good (or polite, kind, safe, etc.), but no longer. However, as Christians, we cannot accept this attitude. First of all, we must continually be aware of and preaching that since the Fall, all men are broken and evil, from all times and places. The pendulum of culture and civilization swings from one extreme to another, but each time, each era and century and decade, has its flaws, most of which are unrecognized by those within it. As believers, we must do the work of first reminding ourselves of our own personal and cultural brokenness (both in the present and the past) and of working to make ourselves aware of the real vices of our own age, vices which we are most likely unaware of. Second, we must work to rid ourselves of this subtle and dangerous form of self-righteousness, one that masks itself in fuzzy nostalgia. We must recognize that all people, past and present, including (and especially) ourselves, are all Misfits in need of the only One who ever raised the dead."

Lately my own life has a Christian has been focused more on the good in everyone than the evil, mostly as I work to be more accepting and loving towards others and those who might feel, act, or live differently than I do. (I suppose that's been my long-term spiritual journey, from my last couple of years of college onward--all of this is on my mind, too, because of conversations with both a good friend and with a smart young student yesterday.) 

But it is Lent, so I suppose it's somewhat appropriate to remember our own brokenness. That does seem to be, as the writer reminds us, one of the things O'Connor does best. And, recognizing our own brokenness can play that key step in recognizing what connects us--and what is lovely and worth loving in us all. The "good old days" (which never existed) don't have a monopoly on that wonderful potential for recognition.

In the instant before her death, the Grandmother has a moment of revelation – the Misfit, a murdering criminal, is her “child,” a reflection of herself and her own wickedness, a product of her own hypocrisy and self-righteousness. The irony of the tale is that a good man is hard to find, not because of the times, but because there are no good men – then or now – except for One.
Essentially, a “good old days” response to the problems of our time is a form of blind self-righteousness, an attitude that says we and our time (or the time we yearn after) would have never committed the same errors of the present age; people were at one time good (or polite, kind, safe, etc.), but no longer. However, as Christians, we cannot accept this attitude. First of all, we must continually be aware of and preaching that since the Fall, all men are broken and evil, from all times and places. The pendulum of culture and civilization swings from one extreme to another, but each time, each era and century and decade, has its flaws, most of which are unrecognized by those within it. As believers, we must do the work of first reminding ourselves of our own personal and cultural brokenness (both in the present and the past) and of working to make ourselves aware of the real vices of our own age, vices which we are most likely unaware of. Second, we must work to rid ourselves of this subtle and dangerous form of self-righteousness, one that masks itself in fuzzy nostalgia. We must recognize that all people, past and present, including (and especially) ourselves, are all Misfits in need of the only One who ever raised the dead.
- See more at: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/christandpopculture/2013/02/there-are-no-good-old-days/#sthash.OLh5F2sH.dpuf
In the instant before her death, the Grandmother has a moment of revelation – the Misfit, a murdering criminal, is her “child,” a reflection of herself and her own wickedness, a product of her own hypocrisy and self-righteousness. The irony of the tale is that a good man is hard to find, not because of the times, but because there are no good men – then or now – except for One.
Essentially, a “good old days” response to the problems of our time is a form of blind self-righteousness, an attitude that says we and our time (or the time we yearn after) would have never committed the same errors of the present age; people were at one time good (or polite, kind, safe, etc.), but no longer. However, as Christians, we cannot accept this attitude. First of all, we must continually be aware of and preaching that since the Fall, all men are broken and evil, from all times and places. The pendulum of culture and civilization swings from one extreme to another, but each time, each era and century and decade, has its flaws, most of which are unrecognized by those within it. As believers, we must do the work of first reminding ourselves of our own personal and cultural brokenness (both in the present and the past) and of working to make ourselves aware of the real vices of our own age, vices which we are most likely unaware of. Second, we must work to rid ourselves of this subtle and dangerous form of self-righteousness, one that masks itself in fuzzy nostalgia. We must recognize that all people, past and present, including (and especially) ourselves, are all Misfits in need of the only One who ever raised the dead.
- See more at: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/christandpopculture/2013/02/there-are-no-good-old-days/#sthash.OLh5F2sH.dpuf
In the instant before her death, the Grandmother has a moment of revelation – the Misfit, a murdering criminal, is her “child,” a reflection of herself and her own wickedness, a product of her own hypocrisy and self-righteousness. The irony of the tale is that a good man is hard to find, not because of the times, but because there are no good men – then or now – except for One.
Essentially, a “good old days” response to the problems of our time is a form of blind self-righteousness, an attitude that says we and our time (or the time we yearn after) would have never committed the same errors of the present age; people were at one time good (or polite, kind, safe, etc.), but no longer. However, as Christians, we cannot accept this attitude. First of all, we must continually be aware of and preaching that since the Fall, all men are broken and evil, from all times and places. The pendulum of culture and civilization swings from one extreme to another, but each time, each era and century and decade, has its flaws, most of which are unrecognized by those within it. As believers, we must do the work of first reminding ourselves of our own personal and cultural brokenness (both in the present and the past) and of working to make ourselves aware of the real vices of our own age, vices which we are most likely unaware of. Second, we must work to rid ourselves of this subtle and dangerous form of self-righteousness, one that masks itself in fuzzy nostalgia. We must recognize that all people, past and present, including (and especially) ourselves, are all Misfits in need of the only One who ever raised the dead.
- See more at: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/christandpopculture/2013/02/there-are-no-good-old-days/#sthash.OLh5F2sH.dpuf

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Yay!

Earlier today I learned that my paper has been accepted for the Emily Dickinson International Society Conference in August. So exciting!

My favorite part (well, my favorite part beyond the "yay I am going to the conference!" part):  the woman who sent the acceptance (one of the biggest names in Dickinson studies) used the phrase "In Possibility" as her closing. Awesome. (If you need a reminder as to why that's awesome, click here.)

Sunday, February 17, 2013

A cat with impeccable taste

Wesley, in the laundry basket, watching Parks & Recreation on the Kindle.


"Countermeasures"

I came across this poem in the January 2013 issue of Poetry. It has ducks in it, so I was, of course, an immediate fan.
 
"Countermeasures"
Sara Miller 
 
I wish I could keep my thoughts in order
and my ducks in a row.
I wish I could keep my ducks in a thought
or my thoughts in a duck.
My point is that we all exist, wetly, in the hunt.
The ducks are aware of this
in their own way, which is floating.
The way of the mind is brevity.
There may be other thoughts on other days
in the minds of other and better men
and their constant companions, the women,
but these same tidy capsules — never.
This is just one of the things
I noticed about my thoughts
as they passed easefully by.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Sarah Michelle Gellar's New Show

While I'm posting about new shows, you know I've got to mention this one: "The single-camera entry revolves around the dynamics between a father named Simon Roberts (Good Will Hunting Oscar winner Robin Williams) and his daughter and is set in the world of advertising. Gellar will play Sydney Roberts, Simon's daughter. She's described as pretty, intense, driven, organized and burdened with being practical. Sydney is the creative director and life and soul of the Roberts and Roberts Advertising Agency at the center of the comedy. She wants to be her father but is too busy having to parent him."

That description doesn't sound promising, but it will be interesting to see Sarah try a sitcom. I hope it works. 

Kyle Chandler's New Show

He'll be on a new show called The Vatican. Given my love for all things Coach Taylor, you know I'll be watching.

Best part of this article: "Jesus, Chandler! You've already made us feel totally screwed up by making us want you as both a husband and a father. Now you're adding Catholicism to it? Are you trying to kill us with guilt?"

Thursday, February 14, 2013

"All the Y'alls from Tami Taylor"



This is so perfect. I've been using "y'all" more or less all the time since college, no small linguistic adjustment for a born-and-bred New Yorker. It is second nature now, coming effortlessly from my mouth, much to the amusement of certain family members. It is, of course, an eminently useful pronoun, especially for teachers. That say, I found even more justification in the my continuing effort to be the sort of person Tami Taylor would be friends with. I adore the sheer variety of uses and inflections she employs in this compilation, from the enthusiastic greeting, to the frustrated appeal to a group, to the rhetorical "Come on, y'all" spoken to a traffic jam.

Enjoy the video, y'all! 

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Thinking about Dickinson today...

The sweetest Heresy received
That Man and Woman know –
Each Other’s Convert –
Though the Faith accommodate but Two – 


The Churches are so frequent –
The Ritual — so small –
The Grace so unavoidable –
To fail — is Infidel –


via Daily Dickinson

Monday, February 11, 2013

Sometimes the title says it all...

...but you should read the whole thing anyway. Here's the title: "Jessica Chastain and Jennifer Lawrence Both Want an Oscar. That's Not a Catfight."

And just a bit more: "Bradley Cooper and Jeremy Renner may be at similar points in their careers, and are probably competing for some of the same roles in search of a definitive chance to break out with the public. But there's room for both of them, and I certainly haven't heard of an anonymous whisper campaign suggesting that the two are eager to claw each other's eyes out at the next awards show after-party." Preach on, Alyssa Rosenberg!

Sunday, February 10, 2013

And there goes my Sunday...

Encore is showing all of North and South today (it got started at 10:00 this morning and runs until 7:30). When I saw that, you know I set the DVR (because, yeah, I can't watch 8.5 hours of TV straight). But I have been watching since 10:00, pressing "pause" every 30 minutes or so to get some work or chores done. And it's as awesome as I remember. (And I've blogged a bit about it before.) Take a look at the imdb page and check out that cast (besides Patrick Swayze, of course). Elizabeth Taylor as a madam? Johnny Cash as John Brown? And that's just scratching the surface.

Plus, since I haven't seen the whole thing since I was much younger, I can feel even smarter than I did back then. For instance, when Orry and George are at West Point, I remember young me feeling all clever for recognizing what it meant that an older cadet was named "Ulysses Grant," whose friends called him "Sam." But now I knew what it meant that two of their fellow cadets are Georges--Pickett and McClellan and another is Tom Jackson, later known as Stonewall.

So far, it's also offered up some terrific, 80s mini-series lines, including the villain yelling at a horse, "Faster, Satan, faster!" and one friend saying to another, "We're supposed to be fighting Mexicans, not each other." Good stuff.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

"Love (III)"

Earlier today, some friends and I went to hear Robert Pinsky give a lecture/reading in Frederick--a wonderful event, full of great insights on language and poetry. One of the poems he shared was George Herbert's "Love (III)." It was the second time I'd encountered that poem twice in the past 24 hours (the other place was on a podcast), so it feels like something worth sharing. One of my favorite early grad school papers was on Herbert and I've always been a fan. Maybe I should revisit The Temple soon.

"Love (III)"

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
        Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
        From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
        If I lack'd anything.

"A guest," I answer'd, "worthy to be here";
        Love said, "You shall be he."
"I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear,
        I cannot look on thee."
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
        "Who made the eyes but I?"

"Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them; let my shame
        Go where it doth deserve."
"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"
        "My dear, then I will serve."
"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."
        So I did sit and eat.