What books should you have read by now?

How was it that I was able to get through my entire public education and never had to read "The Grapes of Wrath"? It makes me a bit sad at the thought of having come this far in life without ever having read the book. I must admit though that if I had read it in high school rather than while living in Oklahoma this summer I would not be able to have such deep appreciation for passages like this...

"Al steered with one hand and put the other on the vibrating gear-shift lever. He had difficulty in speaking. His nouth formed the words silently before he said them aloud. 'Ma--' She looked slowly around at him, her head swaying a little with the car's motion. 'Ma you scared a goin? You scared a goin to a new place?'
Her eyes grew thoughtful and soft. 'A little,' she said. 'Only it ain't like scared so much. I'm jus a settin here waitin. When somepin happens that I got to do somepin -- I'll do it.'
'Ain't you thinkin what's it gonna be like when we get there? Ain't you scared it won't be nice like we thought?'
'No,' she said quickly. 'No, I ain't. You can't do that. I can't do that. It's too much -- livin too many lives. Up ahead they's a thousan lives we might live, but when it comes, it'll on'y be one. If I go ahead on all of em it's too much. You got to live ahead cause you're so young but -- it's jus the road goin by for me. An it' jus how soon they gonna wanta eat sore pork bones.' Her face tightened. 'That's all I can do. I can't do no more. all the rest'd get upset if I done any more'n that. They all depen on me just thinkin about that.'" ---page 124

It's better because it's in Texas America.

One of the most overlooked places for the Momon "you've been called on your mission to..." joke is none other than Paris, Texas. I mean, we make fun of Paris and Moscow Idaho all the time in that context. Why have we been overlooking Paris, Texas all this time? After having to take a pilgrimmage there to get my fingerprints (it's a bit of a long story and not particularly interesting) I found myself in Paris, Texas. Not a bad place really. In some places it had an utterly quaint feeling and in others some dumpy features. It was Small Town, U.S.A.

When I went there, I kept in mind something that I had learned from a friend that I had worked with at Redfish Lake. She was from Paris, Texas that is*, and she told me there was a replica of an Eiffel Tower there in town. So when I stopped at a gas station once I had arrived, I was sure to ask the clerk at the register where I could find this little tourist attraction. She gave me some rinky dink directions that I tried to follow in my head. When I asked a couple of questions she assured me, as you would probably expect, "It will be on yer left. Ya just cain't miss it!"

That got me confident enough to leave with her directions and go exploring a bit. I followed her instructions as best as I could and after a having to take a U-Turn at the very end I realized that the only instruction that had led me astray was the "ya cain't miss it" one. Really, it was about as easy to miss as a lone telephone pole out in a parking lot because...well...that was more or less what it was. That is not to say that it was a disappointing sight to see in the least. After all, there was a red cowboy hat on top AND it was in Texas. As far as I'm concerned, it was much cooler than that stupid looking thing in France. They charge you money to go up in that thing and there isn't even a beret on top. Seriously, who would take stinky cheese over pit BBQ? I ask you honestly...

*See how funny that joke can be - try it next time you see an opportunity!

Pop Hero Native to America

Really there is a lot to mourn with Michael Jackson's death yesterday. I think that had Sherman Alexie written his book Reservation Blues after yesterday afternoon, I am pretty sure he would have included Mr. Jackson in this passage...

“Still, Big Mom had her heart broken by many of her students who couldn’t cope with the incredible gifts she had given them. Jimmy Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Elvis. They all drank so much and self destructed so successfully that Big Mom made them honorary members of the Spokane Tribe.

Late at night, Big Mom’s mourning song echoed all over the reservation. The faithful opened their eyes and took it in, knowing that another of her students had fallen. The unbelieving shut their doors and windows and complained about the birds howling in the trees. But those birds weren’t howling. They all stood quietly, listening to Big Mom, too. She didn’t teach just humans how to sing. And those birds heard her mourning song, they also wondered which of their tribe had fallen.”

---- (page 201) Reservation Blues by Sherman Alexie

June Padre Island

Seriously, I just don't know what people are talking about when they say, "I just don't like Texas beaches". I've heard it a lot actually and it wasn't until last week when I visited Padre Island and Port Aransas with Momma Brooks that I was able to get the authority to respond to a line like that with, "what the hell is wrong with you?" It's true, there is no "surfer dude" about it but there is a lot to love on from a Texas beach. Why if you want to:

... stalk some neat looking birds like this one....

or learn about neat ocean things from a ranger who knows...

or see the release of the world's most endangered sea turtles (the Ridley sea turtle) when they are only 24 hours old and smaller than the size of a silver dollar...

or walk aboard the "Blue Ghost" - the U.S.S. Lexington - aircraft carrier...

or get a close up look at a Portuguese Man-of-War...

or just take some great pictures

Well then I suggest that you take a trip down to the gulf with a kite and a different expectation than what you may have gone to San Diego with. Don't worry you can still get a dynamite shrimp taco there.

Oh and one last thing....captions for this photo anyone?

WHEW!

What a month! Can I turn this campy blog of mine into a scrapbooky-like Sweeney update? Please? I'll make you a promise. I will make sure not to add a personal radio station that will blare my favorite 90s band out of your speakers (which you didn't even know were on). If I promise not to get weird scrolling features or die-cut decor ....

That's the last of the promises. Here is the post of the Austin Sweeneys update.

#1 First off, and perhaps most relevant to why I haven't had a minute to post a blog as of late, I got a new calling in my ward to be the 2nd counselor in the Relief Society. Yep, the fightin' Shoal Creek Ward of the Austin Stake has asked me to plan their enrichment activities and the like. No more painting wooden blocks to look like Christmas packages with phrases like *"Today is a gift. That's why it's called the present." Well, I suppose they weren't really doing that before I was called but still...I suppose I will keep us strong in not ever doing that. That said, I am actually super enthused about it all even though has been like accepting that a spiritual firehose of responsibilities gets sprayed at your face. Once I get the hang of it, who knows? Maybe I can anticipate becoming much like one of these stalward R.S. souls?

#2 I saw my mom get hooded as a "Master of Education" as the girl who likes Cheese on Rye described it. It was a pretty thrilling moment. She's a smart gal and I hope I grow up to be as smart and stunning as her.

#3 I also got to meet that delightful Thomas that made his debut just this last winter. It was pretty happy getting to know him a bit and catching up with his really awesome big sister - who does a great Pomp and Circumstance dance. That Ash is so nice. Besides just being great to talk to, she was always willing to share her Fig Newtons with me when I got hungry. I hope I grow up to be as nice as her.

#4 My dear friend Laura married her Phillip and I got to rendezvous with a few of the best folk from my P-Town days.

#5 Matt finished his finals and when he did that, officially survived his first year of law school. It's too bad he only survived with a mustache. He is already looking like a pretty sleazy lawyer.

#6 Over the best pâté and a knee buckling good chocolate hazelnut torte with apricot preserve at Chez Nous, Matt and I celebrated our 2nd year of marriage. And we both agreed it was the best year we had ever eaten...I mean lived (that one goes out to Swirly Patterns and the rest of you Brooks folk out there).

*Who said that anyway? Was it Joan Rivers or Eleanore Roosevelt? Whenever I don't know to whom I should attribute a nice sounding phrase like that, I default to Mother Teresa or Nelson Mandella. You can't really question either of those people can you...

How does one cope?

In the last couple months at work I have been taking inventory of the library's collection and weeding out old books that seemed to have too much florescent color and adolescents in tight rolled pants on their covers to still give relevant information on teens' social habits. I also took notice of titles like "America Online: and the new age of the internet", which gave away potentially outdated contents. Although it was tedious at times, I have found it be a good exercise for me to get a more comprehensive view about trends in our non-fiction and audio visual collections. For example, I caught onto one recurring theme which I first noticed while going through the science and health books.

A series kept popping up called "How to Cope with...". It was a pretty ambitious set of books that treated "How to Cope with": Depression, Bi-Polar Disorder, AIDS just as seriously as the most pressing topics of "How to Cope with": Dating, Moving, Suburban Gangs and Teenage Moodiness. And although it struck me as funny that the last one was written for the students to read rather than for the rest of us that work for them at the school, I don't think it struck me as any funnier than the fact that I later found another series of "How to Cope with..." from the Agriculture class's audio visual collection. This series veered away from the emotional and physical concerns of teenagers in affluent Texas suburbia and focused on pressing issues for which seemed universal to us all. Indeed this series covered the ageless question of "Coping with Feral Hogs". Finally someone has found the courage to tackle this urgent issue and although I have not had the chance to view this film as it is in VHS format, I invite you all to learn more about how you can overcome the literal and metaphorical feral hogs in your life and become free of their ravaging effects.

Church Wisdom

I can always count on the church marquee along my running road to give me catchy and inspiration advice for the season. This Easter it has given me this to ponder...

"Christ had a grave....but it was only for a weekend."

A couple of months ago it read:

"Patience on the road, prevents patients in the hospital."

Try this one out loud for full effect. It took a second for me to even really get it at first but once I did, it was most rewarding.

More to come I am sure.

Neko

A week ago, Matt and I lived up to the Austin "live music capital" reputation and spent the evening with that soulful Neko Case at Stubb's BBQ. It was a great night for an outdoor concert. Aside from the wonderful 70 degree weather with overcast skies, the soft dirt ground made it not too painful to stand through the opening band, Shearwater. It turns out these guys are local favorites and although I didn't seem to quite catch their musical vision, I was totally compelled by this guy's performance.
Can you guess by which "guy" I was compelled? I'll give you a hint. Had he not been playing clarinet in a sleeveless pleather shirt I would have sworn he was missing from the 1988 filming of Willow. He must have been Madmartigan's stunt double. One way or another, he had presence. No matter how many veins surfaced in the lead singer's neck from wailing vocals, or how mysterious the bass player tried to play herself off as, I could not divert from the Willow man. I am still not sure whether or not it was a positive or negative fascination with him. Matt would call this "The Mime Effect"; it is so odd that it is nearly upsetting but you simply cannot take your eyes from it.

Willow man played all kinds of instruments from drums and clarinet to even a dulcimer for one song. When he hammered out that thing, he closed his eyes in some Transiberian kind of trance and his hairy bare arms and head acquired a blue halo-like outline from the back light. It was like unintentional performance art. I really don't know how to describe it. It was creepy-weird maybe transcendent kind of beautiful? Hmmm...I'll just stick with a confident "Mime Effect" description.

And Neko? She was beautiful (in a non-Mime Effect kind of way, of course). She really was beautiful. When she came out with her bright red hair and kelly green sweater, it was all I could do not to decide then an there to quit everything I was doing to play guitar and learn to sing something great. Sigh...I suppose the next best thing to being being a indie babe with powerfully haunting vocals is to promote research literacy in a library. I have to admit though that it was hard to remind myself that when I woke, up on less sleep than I should have gotten, that next morning and go to work.

Golf Ball Sized Hail?

Yep. It's real.

THE BAD NEWS: it's big enough to dent your car; it's also nearly deafening when it hits the hood or the top.

THE GOOD NEWS: it adds the most impressive touch to an Orange Spritzer (65% Sprite and 35% Orange Juice - try it)!

All us swimmers from the Amherst Community Swimming Pool found the good news to outweigh the bad.

A Case of the Lazies...

It seems like everytime I head off to Ada, OK to visit those delightful Sweeneys, I contract a serious case of "the Lazies". Have you had it before? My symptoms overwhelm me the moment I wake up from a 10 hour sleep (yep, 10 hours every night I sleep there)*. I have this moment when I try to conjur my "to do" list up in my head as I stretch and begin to come to my sense but it comes up utterly blank. In fact, there simply is no list of that sort to be found in my mind. There's a "I could do this ... if I felt like it" list or something the like but it is just not the same and it triggers this staggering torpor.

I think it can be a good thing, the case of the torpors/the case of the lazies. Maybe it just needs to be in moderated amounts like fats on sweets on the top of the active health pyramid. And since it was only four days of puttering around the Sweeney house, going for leisurely runs through Wintersmith Park, and watching an extravagant amount of television I am going to go ahead and say that it was a moderate case enough for good health. In fact, back home in Austin, I have never felt better.

I did get a chance to learn the secrets to a no-fail home made bread recipe from my dear mother-in-law.

And along with his brother Chris, Matt seemed to have anything but the "lazies" when their dad got out "Barry's Boot Camp." Don't take my word for it though...

So I suppose, if you find yourself with a case of the Lazies, you might let it carry on a couple of days before you try and shrug it off. Moderated laziness can prove to be most refreshing in the end.

*There's this magical thing that happens in Ada that I really can't seem to recreate anywhere else. I can sleep-in to astonishly late hours no matter how bad my "can't sleep past 7am" habits have been at home. What can I say? It's remarkable.