Remembering October

Ok, I am totally jamming out tonight. Alan Cross is on the radio with a listen to the history of ska. For those that are not familiar with ska, it is akin to reggae and rocksteady, but boppier. It is also an older musical form. There is a very distinct off beat and there is almost always a heavy influence in the brass department (trombones and trumpets) as well we saxophone, guitar, bass guitar and drums. Big artists were Desmond Dekker, English Beat, The Specials, Prince Buster, Toots and the Maytals, the Skatalites, Madness, The Clash continuing on up to more recently The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones and No Doubt. There has been several different waves of ska, from the original styles that came out of Jamaica in the 1950s and 60s, to the British Two-Tone Invasion in the 70s with other waves in the 80s and the 90s finally making some headway into the US. I want to share something, but am struggling as to what might work best. I love older ska, which has a certain heavy hand in swing, but grew up with The Specials and English Beat. "Mirror in the Bathroom" was a frequent request at high school dances. I think that I will go back to some of the origins though with a taste of Desmond Dekker, arguably one of the kings of ska that had a wide influence on the music of the day and musicians that fall under other umbrellas from reggae, to punk  with many things in between. Enjoy!

~~~~~
PS. You were right Patti. I went to bed and had another poem running round my head. I will share this one with you and the good folks at OneShot.

October Goodbyes


Her words whipped away
in the October air;
Unseasonably warm for
   this day.

Water fell to Earth
piled high in preparation,
but not quite ready for
   this moment.

A pop and a fizz
slowly saluted you while
tears, words, flowers and lager offered
   this goodbye.

Strength carried her
on unseen wings
into tomorrow's world
   with sorrow.

Gleefully released little ones

scooped clodfuls of dirt up

under parent's watchful eye

   with sweet sadness.

Children's laughter and scrabbling fingers
remembered, responded and rejoiced
filling memory's hole
   with joy.

The wind kissed her limp hair
with soft hands that waved goodbye
to a wife's sagging shoulders
   for eternity.


*Blessed be the children for they go where we fear to tread with innocence and love. Their purity and innocence lighten any moments from birth to death...


  

Naked as We Came

I wrote a poem that I am not sure I like.

I am too tired to fly to Africa tonight.

I cannot seem to get into my photo album to regale you with a new picture of something uber-wonderful to share with you and perhaps be inspired to write about.

I did go visiting some wonderful blogs this evening though (Just about Wednesday and OneShot is up and running already). I came across this post over at my friend C's blog and nodded my head all the way through it (something about everything to say/nothing to say and nowhere to start, so lost). Is the changing of the seasons sucking the life out of our feeble brains? I think not with seeing all the rest of the posts out there.

I shall turn into a pumpkin in approximately 2 minutes though, so regret I have not enough to share.

perhaps I will just share a song with you today. Iron and Wine is a staple for me when I need a musical comforting hug. Enjoy.

We Need to Talk About Kevin

We Need to Talk About Kevin;
By Lionel Shriver
(© 2003 Harper Collins)

It's that time of year again. Yes, I am speaking about my book club. We took a break for the summer, but our first meeting back is this evening. The wine will be chilling and appetizers always appetizing. So as I finished the book about a week ago, I thought I would get back into the swing of things and write a book review today.

***

Our first book of the year is "We Need to Talk About Kevin", by Lionel Shriver. I mentioned the book the other day in a post, but now that the book is finished, I can give you a broader picture of it. As I noted before, the book was a little dark in genre. The story opens with Eva Khatchadourian writing a letter to her estranged husband. She beseeches upon him to somehow forgive or understand her side of the story in the gruesome massacre of  seven students, a teacher and a cafeteria worker by their 15-year old son. She has not only had to deal with the ghastliness of this incident, but also the following trials that served to destroy her dignity, force her to sell her beloved travel guide company that she started from the ground up, and of course ultimately leads to the imprisonment of her son. Guilt at her flaws as a Mother is laced throughout this letter, and all the ones that follow.

"We Need to Talk About Kevin" is a work of fiction, but takes a very real look at potentially what makes a young mass murderer. Through letters to her husband, Eva paints the often difficult path she struggled with in raising a child that seemed disturbed from birth. From their son Kevin's birth, she laments on her lack of bonding, his incessant screaming and his seemingly critical eye on her. While she struggles to maintain that it is not all her fault, she illustrates over and over again her failings as a Mother. Eva recounts her life with her husband prior to them having children and constantly bemoans the losses she has had to suffer starting from the moment they conceived.

While portrayed as self-centered, I believe that Eva is too hard on herself and her overly critical eye. There are certainly incidents which seem regrettable in her child-raising abilities (to say the least), but as parents I believe that we are all often overly critical of our own ability to raise another human being at times. No one is perfect, but Eva seems to think that without perfection she is an abysmal failure. Perhaps given the final outcome of her son's life, she could have done more, but in her circumstances, parenting was a two-person job. It is apparent that despite the twisted mind that Kevin develops, he does have a certain measure of respect for his mother and very little for the father whom he patronizes with false platitudes from a very early age.

Can one person truly be to blame for another's faults? I have to wonder at the nature vs nurture balance, when the nurturing of Kevin does nothing to give him a base to enter society.

When Eva connives to have a second child to test whether it is truly her fault that Kevin is so twisted, I lose sympathy for her. I understand that she yearned for someone to love and to love her back, but she does not gauge the effect that this will have on the rest of her family. Her experiment to see if it is her maternal instincts that failed or if Kevin is truly just a bad kid, without even a thought to what might happen to the new child is selfish (and plausible? not so sure). Her beloved husband is not even consulted in this step and I wonder really at how beloved he really is with this flagrant lack of respect for him. He doesn't ever seem to forgive her for this and I wonder again, why they stayed together at all (except in part for story's sake).

While the story is well written, I have to say it was not a favourite of mine. I found Eva too critical and cannot cite lack of warm fuzzies from her own childhood as a great excuse. If we are to wonder at her upbringing as a possible cause to the calamities that befall Eva, I think perhaps this avenue should have been revealed more. I also wonder why Kevin's Grandparents are brought into the story at all, as they do not serve to advance the story or ignite other reasons as to why Kevin is so disturbed.

Regardless of my feelings, I understand that the story has been well received and is touted as an excellent take on the delicate topic of Columbine-style shootings in school. As my children were on the cusp of starting school, it didn't really make me want to let them go though. There was the barest hint of a positive note at the end of the story though, for which I am grateful in all of my silver-lined world.

Hope you are enjoying what you are reading... 

The Sleep Over

Bath

free, fun

scrubbing, splashing, singing

wash off day's memories

Clean

Bed

close, secretive

reading, tickling, sharing

whisper in the dark

Sleep

Girls

exasperating, cute

playing, wiggling, giggling

never going to sleep

Friends

The Maytag Repair (Wo)Man

As I rap, clap, tapped on the washer
it just rang, clang, banged back at me.
No foul-mouthed fix,
nor long-sleeved tricks
could charm it back to be.

I push, shove, bumped on the side.
I pull, push, turned on the top.
No water did stream
or so it would seem,
as the lid slipped my fingers and did drop.

My 'driver twist, spin, whirled on the screws
a faceplate lift, wiggle, scraped as I removed
Wires splayed a'plenty
connections tight as any
so what have I done proved?

Not certified, authorized nor qualified
To identify, evaluate, nor repair.
Take away my tool-belt
before I leave a big welt
on confidence that reigns on false airs.