It took a long time, and I had to start twice, but I finally have some pomegranate seedlings. They are really cool-looking, such a bright green on these gray, dreary days we've had for most of February. But they are unlike any other seedling I've ever seen; ever since they've emerged from the soil, their little leaves have been coiled into a tight roll. I keep expecting to see them begin to unfurl, but there's not a hint they will, so far. So interesting....
I had a mandatory workshop for school Saturday, which put me in not the greatest of moods. I'll admit it - I am pretty selfish with my time. I'm especially selfish with my weekends during the school year, because those are my only "free" times to do laundry and grade stuff and maybe, just maybe, have a couple of hours for something fun.
Add to that the fact that the workshop was really just a re-hash of information and policies I already know. So there wasn't much point to spending the biggest part of my Saturday listening to lectures. As the day went on, my mood went lower and lower.
I would liked to have spent what was left of the day at home, but I had a social commitment that evening. I went, but I probably wasn't the most engaged guest. Until I saw the menu, that is.
The hostess had made Frito chili pie with fresh taco toppings (and I had promised to bring guacamole, so we had that on top, as well). Another woman in the group had made two cobblers, peach and cherry,made with big red and black sweet cherries (but I had eyes only for the cherry!).
I haven't had either of those things in a long time, and they just absolutely hit the spot Saturday night. I know this is a small thing, but the bright color of the lettuce and tomatoes and the fresh jalapeno slice atop the pile of Fritos and chili was just so pretty and cheerful that I felt my mood lifting as soon as I sat down with my plate. And the cobbler, with its flaky crust topped with a sprinkle of extra sugar, was soul-soothing.
Intellectually, I've understood the phrase "comfort food," but Saturday night, I came to an experiential understanding. And man, it was delicious!
Last year, I decided I was going to read the entire Harry Potter series, and it took me most of the year. I also had time to read In That Time of Secrets, but then I was left with a couple of weeks at the end of the year before starting a new reading challenge. I decided I would read through my own novels since it's been a while, and I was hoping it would maybe spark me into writing again (it hasn't, so far). When I finished the first one, I thought I might as well go ahead with the second one since they are a pair. While reading the second book, I made a discovery that kind of shocked me - my beloved leading man, John David McKellar, is a racist.
Just a little context - John David is a "pioneer" who has moved West looking for opportunity and a home. The place he decides can give him those things is not free for the taking, though; it is land that was ceded by treaty to the Cherokee tribe. While writing the novel back in 2010, I was brought face to face with the unethical way the United States came to be "settled" - stealing land and breaking treaty after treaty with the Native Americans, mistreating them at every turn. I set up the conflict in the novel as centered around John David and a Cherokee man ("Little" Elwin Root) who wanted the same spot of land John David wanted. A good story needs strong conflict.
What I hadn't realized in the excitement of writing the story is just how racist the things were that John David accepted in the person of another character or even the things that came out of John David's own mouth. Maybe it's an indication of how the world has changed in the 10 years since I wrote the novel and how much more "woke" (to use the young folks' slang) society is in the aftermath of the Black Lives Matter movement and the travel ban on Muslims and the caging of immigrant children at the Mexican border. But I found myself cringing as I read things my "hero" in the story was saying and the attitudes they reflected about his place in the world and Little El's place.
I try to defend him by offering several excuses. 1) I was trying to accurately reflect the time period and its attitudes, and sadly, racism against Native Americans was reality. 2) John David's grudge against Little El is rooted in personal things rather than simple racism (but is that where racism always starts, at least on a personal level?). 3) Characters in a story can't be too perfect; they need to have believable flaws (and I always thought his flaws were part of what made John David an appealing character). 4) As a literary character, John David is on an arc of personal growth from mindless stereotyping of the Cherokee as "savages" to an understanding that the differences between him and Little El are superficial and that Little El is a human worthy of respect.
I've recently started reading the part of the story where John David's arc starts to turn away from the blatant racism toward understanding and respect. But as I remember, there are still vestiges of those racist attitudes, even after John David has "redeemed" himself. I'm afraid he's going to always be tainted for me now, a character in my mental library who's always going to be carrying an asterisk.
As I was writing this post, I remembered a song called "We Americans" off the Avett Brothers' latest album. In the song, Seth Avett ponders the legacy of a country built on "stolen land with stolen people," and how we can move forward together from that past when so much of that past still remains viable. People grumble about the occasional awkwardness of the lyrics (he's trying to fit in a lot of ideas), but I find it to be a profound and moving song. I'll attach it here and you can see what you think.
