REVIEWING THE BLIND MAN'S ELEPHANT

We've all heard that metaphor about the blind man describing the elephant, and one feels the tail and says an elephant is like a rope. Another feels the side of the elephant and says he feels like a wall. The other blind man feels its trunk, and says it's shaped like a hose.

What we never hear is someone asking why they think it's shaped like what they feel. And the reason I bring that up is because when we read a book, it's much like feeling the side of the elephant. We are feeling with our eyes, and interpreting the words with our brain unless it's a picture book, we may all see different things even when reading the same book. What we see, we bring to the book review if we are a member. And isn't that what a book club is all about? If one says, I reviewed this book and can understand that this book is like a wall, we have to ask why they think that, not just think... "Well, I thought it was like a rope... or a hose."

For example, I read a book about a girl who was put in foster homes when her mother was convicted of manslaughter in the first degree. It tells of her life in each home she had while waiting for her mother to serve her sentence; of the misadventures; of her visits to the prison and such. One who read the book held it in the air and said, I don't know what you others thought of the book, but I didn't see the point. I don't believe all these terrible things could happen to one foster child.

The person reviewing the book... the same one who suggested the book felt like she had been reprimanded. How could she select a book which so badly misrepresented the life of a foster child. Suddenly everyone began questioning it themselves. What this person's statement caused, was for everyone else to think their insights of the book were wrong. That her the critic wielding the book was the correct interpretation. That the book was a severe misrepresentation of the Foster System. Someone who knew of the life of a foster child was like, having been a social worker herself, spoke up and said that this story was as true as many that she had heard. Sometimes terrible things happen. It isn't a perfect system.

The difference from what the book wielder and the reviewer was that they had felt different sides of the elephant.

Next time someone who has read the same book as the group says, "I didn't believe it..." I'm going to ask what was it that you didn't believe. The only one who could tell the blind man for sure what the elephant felt like was the one who saw the whole picture. The social worker was the closest to seeing the total picture of the foster child.

Once when reviewing the book, I did what normally takes a lot of time ...I summed up the book quickly in modern language as I saw the book's story. What I didn't say in the summation, was how beautifully written it was. The book was Madame Bovary. When you just told the story of this spoiled woman, it sounded so trite. What Flaubert had done is to take a soap opera of a story, and because of his powerful descriptions and insights, paying attention to the least detail even to the way a person walked, or the look on a face, his writing was as much a masterpiece as a great painting. What I summarized was merely like saying "This painting is of a eyebrow-less woman with a mysterious smile... if summarizing Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa.

Once I was called to review for another who couldn't make it to the review of The Grass Harp, by Truman Capote, and she wanted me to review Capote as well as the story he wrote. I hadn't remembered to do that, but I had said I would. When someone took me up on that and asked why, I felt like I'd missed the mark. She reminded me that he had quite an immoral life. Later, when I thought about it, I wondered if I'd ever bring his morals into even a review of the author when talking about his book. If I had reviewed the author from just reading this book, I would have said that Capote, as an author, had a way of opening up our eyes to a beauty in characters who wanted to be free to express who they really were, as well as the beauty in nature-of the grasses whispering a tune in the wind like the low notes from a harp, as that's what the author brought to me in this book. I've heard some damning background of many famous artists, authors, and even presidents of the United States. When we are reading a book, or looking at a beautiful piece of art, or appraising what kind of president this man was, we appraise what he's accomplished, and that work if it is of grate value, should not be jaded by the morals of that person, whether an author, artist or leader. The only way we can 'review' an author's life aside from what his written work tells us of his personality, is if it is a biography about him or her.

That's my thoughts for today.

DAN'S GIFT OF THE RED HAT

CHRISTMAS kind of left me cold this year. It was an aggravation from beginning to end. We send out cards... cards that are sent from so many charities, and nice ones that I don't get a chance to buy some nice one's with meaning, but these are too nice to waste. But... sitting down and writing them out somehow seemed like jumping a hurtle too high this year. Finally I buckled down and wrote to those with whom I'd already heard from. GIFTS were not purchased until last minute... , and they weren't really gifts to my grandchildren, but "gift cards" to Target, Michael's, or iTunes-for my grandson's Alex and Austin. Then the Michael's one got lost in the mail and their sister Anna felt forgotten. I'M THINKING that perhaps we could all get together somewhere and sit with our chairs in a circle and pass money or gift cards from left to right. They are about that much fun. I'll admit I appreciated my Aunt Hilda's sending me a dollar in a Christmas card or for my birthday. I always had to send a thank you back. [Thanks, Mom... good manners that I probably didn't instill enough in my own, but I have gotten thank you notes from grandchildren. Now that there's email it's even easier than sitting them at the dining room table and pushing them to write Grandma and get it over with.] THE HOLIDAYS weren't all that Happy this year. No reason except I couldn't seem to catch the Christmas Spirit. I resented the way things are. Everyone spread so far and wide we'd be lucky if we saw any family this season, but we did get up to Jim J's to drop off gifts. And my stepdaughter Trese had us up for New Year's dinner. That saved the holiday season for me. TODAY I'm reading about another's discontent written to "Ask Amy". I didn't share her gripe, but my own would have been these generic gift cards. I might just as well send money. The danger there is it getting lost or stolen along the way. I still don't know if Anna's gift card ever arived. So, I would have said, Dear Amy, I'm tired of sending stupid gift cards. The most personal thing about them is if you ask what place the kids would shop..." THEN I got thinking about gifts I've gotten throughout the years and their meaning. I remember the generic dollar from Aunt Hilda. But I also remember the RED HAT! I got it from my brother Dan when I was about 20 year's old. He gave me a red felt hat with a net veil... maybe even had a feather. Something a pretty older woman would wear to church. It was very nice, but NOT ME. Somehow it charmed me that he thought of me as that mature and think it would look good on me. (I also remember him giving me a teddy bear when I was 12 years old, and he was home on leave from the Air Force. I was too old for teddy bears, but I loved "Twinkle" as I called my bear.) I WANT TO WRAP A GIFT and send it from the Post Office. Sure it's more trouble, but I want them to have it delivered, wonder what's in the package, open it up and find a wrapped gift with a "do not open until [your birthday] or [...Christmas]. I want to send them something they'll remember... even if I miss the mark... like my brother did so many years ago. I knew my brother loved me, and gave from his heart. I've asked before, and appreciate the Wish Lists at Amazon.com. I guess I would rather know them so well that I would see something and say, "Oh... I've got to get that for (...so and so)." I'M GOING TO WRITE EACH OF THEM before their birthday or Christmas. I'll ask them about their hobbies, their favorite things ...music, sports, types of clothes, arts and crafts, favorite colors fads games, puzzles, magazines, favorite type of clothes, jewelry, and every question I can think of to get an idea of their personality and their pleasures. I'll try to get a grasp on how to think while shopping around. Like if they liked Barbie dolls, I'd check that aisle and see what's new. I know that gift cards are more practical, and if they insist, that's how I'll go. But they'd better respond, as I'm thinking about how I never forgot that Red Hat. The fact that I only wore it a few times doesn't detract from the memory, and who gave it, and that he thought his sister was pretty and that hat would look nice on her. I remember the Red Hat, so NOW I HAVE AN IDEA. I'M GOING to ask each child who's expecting a gift for whatever occasion what they would enjoy as a gift. AND, if I don't hear back, they are going to get a red hat. This goes for the adults as well. Oh, it won't be like the one Dan gave me, but it will be red. It will be as suitable as I can gather from what I do know about whomever I'm giving it. It may be a scarf they could put on their head or wear around their shoulder... but it's going to be red, and it's going to be a hat... and if they do not want to receive that in 2012 they better tell me what they like, and give me a long enough list or clues enough to their personality so that I can give them something meaningful from Grandma, or Mary Jo.

I FOUND MY ANGEL

WELL... When I left you last, I was going out of my mind. When the day was done, and I came downstairs to this computer-room, as I'm passing the wood stove where Tom parks all his farm boots, my peripheral vision caught something incongruous. There were three tall boots in a row, but when I looked straight at this, there my upside down angel was still in it's plastic tubular container, which was exactly as high as Tom's boots. I'd looked under the stove, in back of the stove, on top of the stove it would have been seen... BUT I HADN'T LOOKED DOWN AT THE BOOTS. I'd unpacked the Christmas lights, taking the angel out and placing it right there, only to think it was misplaced later, and just didn't see it. Maybe I'm not losing it, but these things happen all the time. However it reminds me of our son's need to have a key chain that would give off a beep when you pressed on this little finder remote that came with it. It also reminded me of a mother's many times having to find just about everything for everybody in the family during those teen years or even younger... with the toddler's toys. Before I get myself worked up about losing my mind, I've got to remember... this has happened throughout my lifetime. Probably everybody's lifetime. It's the reason I have a long piece of that rubberized twine connected to my car keys on one end and on the handle of my purse on the other. Saves me lots, and lots of time! ;-)

Descent of our Minds:

We're both losing it... I swear!! How can we lose a WHOLE Christmas angel. It's larger than Barbie size, and housed for the year in a cylindrical clear plastic container. I even have the lid... it does exist. I think I took her out when I was checking our Christmas lights downstairs... I'd pulled the gray plastic storage bin out from the downstairs bathroom closet. Things weren't together from that point on. Yesterday or the day before,I took the gray bin upstairs. I had to go back down to get the lights today. Three fairly old sets, and one that Tom had before he and I got married... over 26 years ago. I brought them up. We have a tree. We priced the artificial, and at Lowe's I couldn't believe the scrawny things they had to offerunder $100 ...just barely, and if they were $10, I'd still call them Charley Brown Christmas trees... if you know what I mean. So... we went up to the field above, and used our squatting rights to cut down a nice pine. I cut it so close to the ground that Tom had trouble looking for where I'd cut it... he just wanted to check how obvious it was. Don't worry, no one will know the difference. So, in figuring out how we'll string the lights, I thought... we need the angel to see how we'll do it... it will be at the end of one of the strings. IT HAS JUST DISAPPEARED. It just bothers us so because we know it was here. I remember taking it out of the box to get the lights out. Tom remembers as he took the lights out into the garage to test them throwing away a set which only half lit. Tom said that after the box of ornaments was upstairs he saw the angel-upstairs-as its container was upside down, and he could see the plug. I said I didn't remember seeing it upstairs, but I remember vacuuming with the box upstairs, at least I thought it was upstairs then. That must have been Wednesday, a day when I was driving myself nuts trying to get the DVD burner to work... one last stab before putting them out of the way to make room for Christmas decorations. Well... I even took the vacuum out again to see if I thought I'd automatically taken the angel and put it somewhere out of the way, and by acting it out, 'where would I put it? NO. I even wondered if Tom had taken it out to the garage since he'd taken the Xmas lights out to test them, and had first thought the angel was some more lights. We stopped looking and ate supper. [Had some more BBQ chicken thighs from the Family Reunion.] After supper Itake and trim our bones for the dogs. Bear had been sitting under our feet sort of... a good place if anything falls during supper. I'd been saying how Bear won't even let Polly go near this spot while we're eating. I didn't think, "Hmm, where's Polly. I shoulda'! DAMN. She was nowhere to be seen. I swear, if I take her for a walk, the old arthritic dog will disappear if I get distracted for 60 seconds. Usually I can track or see her ahead, but any more than a minute, and she is GONE. I called out front, and when I called out back... there is the gate... wide open! DAMN!! I'd left it open when I took the garbage over to the composter. We both call, and call. I decide to throw on a coat and check the garage for her and, for sure the angel must be there... like George Carlin said, "Must be somewhere, Can't be nowhere!!" Not in the garage either. I'm going NUTS. It's not just that. It's a lot of little things. I go out and call Polly again, and there she is, sitting under the cherry tree in the back yard chewing on some venison bones she dragged over from somewhere. I swear, I have to make believe I made that mistake [on purpose], and stalk her while she goes to whatever gut pile from where she's getting the bones. I called her in telling her what a bad dog she was, took the plate of leftovers left, as Bear cleaned one plate, AND I GAVE IT TO BEAR again, with her watching. "YOU got your OWN leftovers... you can't have what we saved for you." I doubt if she understands. I now have a piece of safety ribbon at each gate to put around my wrist if I for any reason have to leave the gate open. But... I still just cannot figure out what happened to the angel. Tom swears he saw it upstairs... but he's no better. If I moved it while vacuuming, I must have done it automatically,but where the HELL would I have put it??!! It's driving me nuts! Tomorrow we're getting another extension cord so we can easily plug the lights in and take the plug out at night before we go to bed. I hope the angel turns up. We're probably looking right at it but just don't see it... Yep... I've done that too. I'll let you know where we find it.... ... If we DO!! (?????????????????)

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES...

24 little hours later, and I couldn't care less about the rest of the world, as the one around here sparkles of sunshine and cool crisp fall air.

I'm reading A Simple Amish Christmas, and think maybe that's the way things should be... each group of people that make up this United States live in their own little world taking care of their own problems. But to me that's almost like being in denial. However, worrying and complaining is worse. Unless someone's complaints are valid problems that something can and should be done about, why complain. If all my/our worrying is not going to change a thing, then change it into prayer or positive meditation for the non-religious and Hope there is a God or a Force that can instill a sense of justice in the human beings on this great earth.

After all, it's not like the world was going to hell in a hand-basket (whatever that means anyway), it's the people.... The birds on the wing, the bear groveling in the garbage at the side of the road don't care. They live for the moment, but even the bird and the bear prepare for winter. The chipmunk hoards seeds and nuts in a special food locker in their underground system, and is set for the winter. We are more like the gray squirrels in that we can hole up in the bad days, but have to leave our warm nests to get supplies, to go to work... as 'in the long run... to get them.' But, you see where I'm going. We all have our place on this planet, and,

but for the Media, we wouldn't know what's going on in all sectors.

At my age I'm content that I've done my stint with the League of Women Voters; Letters to the Editor; time on the Democratic Committee. I've done my volunteer work; feel a bit guilty about not giving more blood; but I give to charities... now with caution... like "What DOES Komen for the Cure DO with all their money."

Be wise, and be discerning. Don't believe all the forwarded messages; nor give to every charity that is dropped into your mail box; nor to follow every shout from the discontented without checking as to what they intend to accomplish, and their good plan on getting it done.

Most of all, don't let the wonders of the common every day miracles of life elude your notice. Life is magical. And, if you need a boost of medication in order for your post-menopausal brain to look through your own rose colored glasses, please don't forget to take it. It too is a miracle of modern age. The age of innocence, if it ever did exist, had those aunties or grannies holed up in some attic with the blinds pulled shut. There are those scientific and medical wonders that keep the diseases that used to kill at bay. Bless your life always, and thank your Maker for it.

Yours,
Cranberry Jo

LETS GO CAMPING FOR FREE IN NYC:

You want to know what really bugs me? No? Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. I get so freakin' aggravated by half assed groups of people disorganized as hell, and no way to get some goal accomplished. "LET'S JUST GATHER AND PROTEST"
"PROTEST WHAT??"
"PROTEST BIG BUSINESS... IT'S RUINING OUR COUNTRY."
"HOW IS IT RUINING OUR COUNTRY?"
"BY THE BAILOUTS THEY JUST TOOK THE MONEY AND HERE WE ARE UNEMPLOYED WITH NO MONEY."
"WELL, I GUESS I COULD GO TO NEW YORK AND SEE THE SIGHTS. I ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THAT, BUT COULDN'T AFFORD THE HOTEL BILLS. ARE YOU SURE IT'S LEGAL TO CAMP OUT DOWN THERE?"
"SURE... AND SAFE TO. YOU KNOW... SAFETY IN NUMBERS"

SIX WEEKS LATER
"THEY'RE MAKING US MOVE. I THOUGHT YOU SAID IT'S LEGAL. THEY SAID WE HAVE TO MOVE OR THEY'LL ARREST US."
"THAT'S OKAY... WE'LL MOVE TO THE SUBWAYS. WE'LL TAKE OVER THE WHOLE SUBWAY SYSTEM."
"WON'T THAT MAKE THOSE WHO USE THE SUBWAYS TO GET TO WORK A LITTLE ANGRY?"
"THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT. THEY HAVE JOBS... WE DON'T. WE WILL BE PROTESTING THOSE WHO ARE LUCKY ENOUGH TO BE ABLE TO WORK."
"BUT, YOU'RE ON WELFARE, WHY SHOULD YOU MIND?"
"NEVER MIND WHY, WE JUST HAVE TO LET THESE STINGY PEOPLE WHO WON'T PAY OUR WAY KNOW THAT WE'RE MAD AS HELL AND WE'RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE."

ONE MONTH LATER
"HOW LONG ARE THEY GOING TO KEEP US IN JAIL?"
"UNTIL OUR CASE COMES UP... DON'T COMPLAIN, YOU'RE GETTING 3 SQUARE MEALS A DAY, AND A WARM DRY PLACE TO SLEEP."
"YES, BUT I MISS HOME. WHY THE HELL WAS IT WE GOT IN THIS SPOT ANYWAY?"
"WE LET WALL STREET KNOW HOW UNHAPPY WE WERE WITH BIG BUSINESS."
"YEAH... I GUESS WE LET THEM KNOW!"

MEANWHILE, IN THE LITTLE QUIET TOWNSHIPS OF THE UNITED STATES, PEOPLE LOOK ON AND THINK, "WHAT THE HELL DID THEY ACCOMPLISH."

ANSWER: NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING! JUST A GOD DAMNED WASTE OF TIME, TAX PAYERS MONEY IN CLEANING UP THEIR MESS, IN POLICE CALLS, AND HOSPITALIZATION, THE COST OF IMPRISONING AND IN THE MEANTIME, AT WALL STREET IT WAS BUSINESS AS USUAL!!

THE STATE OF THE NEWS... NEVER MIND THE STATE OF PENN STATE:
What kept me awake last night was the stupid unfairness of the media in riling up the powers that be at Penn State that they fired Coach Paterno.

Since when has this country accepted into its Constitution that Freedom of the Press means that the News Media can be judge, jury and sentencer for a person's reputation, job, and life through the innuendo and unsubstantiated information?! SHAME ON THE NEWS MEDIA in America. They've reduced their voice to tabloid levels if not less, as the Inquirer would have been sued for libel years back with what they've said about Joe Paterno based on NO facts, as once Paterno's reputation was ruined, it became clear that 'he had done the right thing' in reporting the incident to the Campus Officials after McQueary had reported the incident to Paterno. [And McQueary also did discuss the alleged sexual assault with the university vice president who oversees campus police (as the Grand Jury had indicated this fact).

So why has it come down harder on Joe Paterno's head than on anyone else's... and up to this point that includes the perpetrator, Jerry Sandusky.

I absolutely detest unfairness, so in this case it was enough to keep me awake just thinking about this injustice to Joe Paterno even happening in these United States. It makes me wish I lived in a different nation... one that actually lives by abiding to the same Constitutional values as in our Constitution. I miss the days where I could count on today being better than yesterday, and tomorrow being better than today. Maybe I'm just getting old. But I think not. I think that this nation is going to hell in a handbasket. I wish I could go back to the good old days when this seemed a more Christian acting nation, when the wooden ruler given to us in the first grade had the quote, "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you."

Just one more thing. The worst thing about all this is that it takes focus off the original victims by making Paterno and the students Penn State look bad to the point where yesterday someone with a Penn State shirt on at a store near the Penn State campus was told that he should be ashamed to wear that shirt. At my bookclub we discussed this situation and one said their grandchild was going to wear his Penn State shirt to school, but his mother was afraid he'd get chastised for doing so. We thought this was a bit overboard, but if it happened to a college student, it very well could have happened if the mother let his son wear that shirt.

[This stings of the same unfairness I saw in the movie Indictment that put innocent women in prison for over a year when they were falsely accused of sexually abusing their day care children until the courts found that they were innocent, and the mother who reported the abuse was not taking medication for her schizophrenia. I feel that Coach Paterno is innocent of any wrongdoing. I would change my mind only if as it should be, it was found out factually in a court of law, that he may have not followed the chain of command for reporting the incident, or had not done anything about it if he believed it to be true.

What the hell is the world coming to. I've never felt so disillusioned in my life. I feel that we have now officially lost our innocence. AGAIN I SAY "SHAME ON THE MEDIA!!!" ...And, of course we are ashamed of ONE PERSON, the perpetrator... remember, Sandusky is his name, not Paterno for God's sake.