home at last

Three weeks ago I left Memphis (and T-rav) to embark on a trip around the east/mid west. I flew 760 miles, drove a total of 1510 miles (205 from Richmond to the Outer Banks; 697 from the Outer Banks to Palmyra; 610 from Palmyra to South Bend, IN), and after realizing I somehow needed to get myself back to Memphis, took the train 549 miles from Chicago.

Total miles traveled: 2819

Aside from the guilt I felt for ditching my husband hard at work while I went to play, it was a great trip. I was able to relax at the beach, spend some time with my family, buy lots of books, and visit my dear friend Zillah.

And I took a train! I really, really heart trains. And train stations. And train platforms (which should always be called platforms, not "tracks" like they apparently call them in the Amtrak system). And the tracks. And really everything about them. But I had never ridden a train in the US before. I went expecting all sorts of unsavory folks, kind of like the ones you find on the Greyhound bus. But I stand corrected; there was a lovely assortment of people aboard Amtrak, most of them very run-of-the-mill.

Anyway. It's good to be home, although Memphis will only be home for 1 more week. Then I'm back to Utah by way of New Orleans.

Oriental Institute, Chicago, IL

pride or prejudice or hypersensitivity

For some reason I was thinking about Pride and Prejudice the other day (maybe it was seeing a guy with a copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies which I'm really dying to read). Anyone who has read the book or seen any of the movie versions can recall that Elizabeth's sisters constantly made fools of themselves, her mother was terrible, her father could be rude and tactless, and her cousin mooned and fawned over those with high status and money. Elizabeth and Jane remained the only Bennetts who retained some sense of propriety and dignity in social settings. So we can agree that the Bennet family was socially awkward and behaved inappropriately on a fairly regular basis, but would it have bothered a more confident or laid back person? Was Elizabeth's embarassment due to being overly sensitive? Was she just plain uptight?

Granted, during Elizabeth's time there was quite a few more rules of social etiquette one needed to follow in order to be a respected member of society. So maybe Elizabeth really did have reason for humiliation. But let's think about this during today's time. If Pride and Prejudice were set during modern times, would Elizabeth be justified in her feelings or would you tell her to lighten up?

reminiscing

I spent a large portion of today going through the ridiculously jam packed closet in my brother's old bedroom. I found treasures and trash, in equal portions: my little sister's doll stuff and ancient but sassy nail polish; my brother's trash (literally), clothes, and backpacks; pictures/paintings that used to be up on the walls but have been replaced by something more modern and chic; and a mountain of my papers and other stuff from high school. I also discovered a questionnaire about myself that I answered when I was 15. I learned all sorts of things that I didn't remember:

• I loved the movie Titanic. Who knew! I don't remember loving it. I hate it now.
• Even then I was obsessed with Italy.
• I wanted to become a spy.
• I also wanted to become an author. Maybe I should write books about spies. This explains my love for the show ALIAS.
• Regardless of my reasonable career aspirations, it seemed like a good idea to me to study genetics. I don't think there are words to describe how completely that does not suit me.
• I considered myself athletic. Ha! I was totally and completely uncoordinated.
• I was a pretty dang good essay writer. My essays were leaps and bounds better than most of those my ESL students write, even the ones who have been to college (regardless of the language barrier).
• I was sassy and feisty and proud of it.

I don't have too many regrets from my teenage years. I do wish I would have put aside my lust for money and worked less so I could be more involved with school activities. I wish I would have not been so stubborn and proud and refused to sing in the "select" choir because I hated the director. But the real question is would my 15 year old self be pleased with how my life has unraveled thus far? Maybe. I think she'd be disappointed I never served a mission and shocked that I had the nerve to get married before 25. She would ask me where my book was...and I would stare at her blankly. She would find linguistics to be totally perfect for us. She would scold me for still never having been to Ireland, but rejoice that I managed to get to Italy, if only for a month. She wouldn't believe me when I told her I'm not really a spy (as if I'd tell her if I really were!). Would she be more or less adventurous than me? Would she tell me to quit my very enjoyable and perfectly sensible job to go vagabonding around Europe for a semester? Would she approve of the decisions I've made along the way? And would I be proud of how we turned out?

I think so.

Would you?

Outer Banks

This morning I awoke to a cloudy, rainy, humid New York summer day- quite a shock when the past week was spent basking in the sun on the beaches of the Outer Banks. Aside from a few days of winds rivaling a sand storm in the Sahara desert, the weather was perfect. We shared our house with my aunt and her family and my grandparents, ate lots of fresh seafood, played cutthroat family on family games of Catch Phrase and Buzz Word, and basically had loads of fun.

This picture is a very proud one for my grandma because she's never actually been in the ocean. Ever. Although she has come to the beach with us almost every year we've gone, she never really learned to swim and has always been uncomfortable in the water. Unfortunately you can't entirely tell from this picture, but we're actually standing on a sand bar a few yards into the ocean. With my grandpa and uncle's assistance (she doesn't trust my grandpa to not push her in), she waded onto the sand bar and cheerily splashed around. Way to go, Beverly!

Our yearly beach picture (not on the beach due to sand blasting winds. My skin may need exfoliating, but not that badly!), lacking my brother and T-rav, but including our sister-in-law-to-be, Lauren.

And finally, I was exceedingly excited to finally go to Ocracoke Island, one of the more remote islands on the Outer Banks. The only way to get there is to take a 40 minute ride on one of 3 free ferries. The island is a whopping 9 square miles with a population of about 770. And it has a tiny but still functioning lighthouse on Silver Lake (it's really a bay). More importantly (to me at least), it also happens to be the home of the Ocrakoe Brogue, giving us charming little words like mommuck (to harass) and quamish (nauseated). I was hoping and praying to find someone who actually still speaks the brogue, but alas, we didn't encounter anyone actually from Ocracoke or under the age of about 30, and old people tend to be the only ones who hold on to their dialect these days. However, my disappointment subsided a bit when I found a charming little inn I intended to return to the next time I'm in the area. But since I wasn't able to bring back a real life sample of the brogue, here's a little taste of what we're all missing. Until next year...

Kristi's Sealing

Finally, some proof that my sister actually did have a sealing/reception back in April. Isn't she pretty?

I'm going to the beach tomorrow. Food. Sun. Books. Sand. Family. Waves. More books.

=

The Perfect Week.

Chess Titans

Lately T-rav and I have been trying to find things to do that don't include spending a lot of money, driving really far, or watching movies. Normally we would just read, but since I already finished or read all the books we (or the neighbors) brought with us, spent too many dollars at the local "Books-a-Million" store, can't get a library card for lack of proof of residence (I should have had someone write me a letter weeks ago), and am waiting for a large amazon.com purchase to arrive, we've been forced to think of other ways to entertain ourselves. And so we discovered chess.

Now neither of us have ever really played chess before, though I do vaguely remember playing with my dad's very strange friend named Tom when I was about 6. We don't have a chess board, so we've been using our computer chess game (called "Chess Titans"--it also has "Mahjong Titans," but surprisingly no Solitaire Titans. Solitaire is just called Solitaire.) For the first few days, we just played each other. Since we're both about the same degree of dreadfullness, there was no pressure on either side. But then we decided to try our luck against the computer, and promptly lost. And we lost again. And again...on level ONE. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like on level ten. I'm not really sure what we're doing wrong. I just know that I'm instantly furious when the computer's dirty rotten rook sneaks up from behind and kills my queen! (thank heaven for ctrl-z) Do any of you chess pros have any tips for me? Or rather, are any of you chess pros?

Along the same lines as my previous post....

Here's an article about one of the major Islamist groups that preys on impressionable youth looking for an identity. And somehow they're managing to sneak their way into American cities. I'm so flustered I can barely type. Read the article. Or check out the link to the right: Combating Extremist Islamism and see what some Muslims are doing to try to save their religion from fundamentalist freaks.

does multiculturalism fail?

The other day, T-rav found a goldmine of a book: The Islamist by Ed Husain. He said the caption was what caught his eye: "Why I became an Islamic Fundamentalist, What I saw inside, and Why I left." I just finished it and reading that makes me want to read it again! This was a great book, the kind that I think everyone should read because it's well written and interesting and a fascinating insight into someone's life and culture.

Husain became involved with Islamic Fundamentalism when he was a young teenager, something he partially blames on the lack of cultural identity he felt in Britain. Was he Bangladeshi? Muslim? British? British-Muslim? British-Bangladeshi? And if the latter two, what did that entail? He says that during his childhood (and still today) most immigrants developed confused identities because they grew up in a multicultural society where they were not forced to integrate with the dominant culture develop confused identities, making them an easy target for extremist groups.

I think this part deserves quoting: "In its attempt to support and recognize all cultures as equal, multiculturalism fails to empower minorities. How can the children of immigrants secure jobs in the workplace and advance economically and socially when they aren't even expected to learn English...A nation bonds through its language and shared culture; separate these two things and you have the vital precursors to self-destruction."

Is this happening in America? Are we, like Britain, in trying to be nice to all our minority groups, by embracing our liberal, open-minded multiculturalism, actually damaging our culture, creating a division among people instead of bridging cultural gaps? Maybe. Our government is ever eager to appease the social and cultural (and linguistic) demands of all minorities (be it women, Hispanics, Lesbians, Native Americans, etc). But do we go too far in accepting everything? Would it be better for immigrants to simply adopt American culture and start speaking only English? Does that mean they should also abandon their own culture and langauge?

In the final pages of The Islamist, Husain implores the reader to prevent future fundamentalists (or any kind of cultural extremism) by helping our immigrants find a place in society. I thought of it like an "adopt an immigrant" plan...find the nearest non-native English speaking person on your street and become their friend, let them see American culture, help them learn how to vote and have a voice in society. In this way, an immigrant's acculturation becomes our responsibility: if we want to keep America safe and peaceful, it is our job, as American citizens, to ensure that those living in our country don't find the wrong people in their search for an identity.

things to see in the south

What I've been up to lately...

This sign should have said "No bicycles allowed on trail because the mosquitos are large enough to put dents in your nice metal frame." After 20 minutes on the trail we decided to turn around because, if we dared stop walking, we were literally swarmed by huge vicious bugs. Maybe that's why there wasn't anyone else on the trail.

Now what would a slide show of the south be without a bit of road kill? Here's a smashed armadillo, one which Lindsey and I had to step over everyday on our way to Walgreens (I wonder if it's still there...).*

And this is where they keep the animals that they want to prevent from becoming road kill (that's an owl):

And this is how I usually look these days...not angry. Just wet. Either it's raining or I'm fresh out of the pool or...very sweaty.


*I'm sure you'll all be pleased to know that the armadillo remains have been removed from the side of the road. It now smells considerably better when we pass that bit of ground.