Science Fiction and Christmas and Stars, Oh My
Mamacita says: I love a good short story, but exactly what is a short story? Is it a short story because it’s always short?
Surprisingly, no.
It’s a short story because it has only one main plotline and set of characters.
However, most short stories are pretty short. One of my college professors told us that one should be able to begin and finish a really good short story while sitting on the toilet. I think I agree. Sometimes there’s a fine line between a novella and a few paragraphs, but the right length of a proper short story is somewhere in between: just the right length for a beginning, middle, and ending, giving you plenty of time to finish your business without getting hemorhoids from sitting too long. We keep a lot of our books in the big bathroom and many of them are collections of short stories.
I’m reminded of the scene in “The Big Chill” wherein Jeff Goldblum laments that most of his writing is read on the toilet, and when someone comments that one can read “War and Peace” on the toilet, Goldblum counters with “Yes, but you can’t finish it.”
But with a short story, you can.
Stop laughing. Where else, and when else, in our busy lives do we have a few minutes to ourselves?
Occasionally, I come across a short story that haunts me, makes me obsessed, changes me, affects me, and not always in a positive way. When I say, ‘not positive’ I don’t mean ‘negative.’ I really don’t know how to explain what I mean, either. That doesn’t mean I don’t know, it just means there are no words for it. I don’t count short stories that were poorly written or that I personally just simply disliked for whatever reason. I mean, a well-written short story that knocked me flat on the ground. Right flat, on my back gazing up at the ceiling with a look of dumbstruck amazement, or joy, or sadness, or whatever as long as it was well-thought-out and beautifully written.
Arthur C. Clarke’s short story “The Star” is one that knocked me flat and wouldn’t let me back up again for a long, long time.
How long? I’m still on the ground from it.
I first read it when I was in the fifth grade and it fascinated me, and frightened me, and made me ask questions that were not always appreciated by my elders, but isn’t that what a good story is supposed to do to us? I came to the conclusion back then, and I still hold to it, that elders who are suspicious of, and do not encourage, sincere questions about any subject, are themselves not secure in their beliefs and are, on some occasions, downright ignorant.
This story absolutely blew me away. I adore it. I am afraid of it. I always approach the ending with trepidation, hoping somehow that it has changed from the last time I read it. It never does.
It will make you think. It will make you question. It will make you glad to be alive. It will make you wonder about the future, and about the past.
Many pastors have forbidden their congregations to read it. It’s been removed from most textbooks for fear of offending someone. But it still exists. And since most bloggers are intelligent, open-minded, and not easily offended, please click on the link below and read this short story. It’s the right time of year for wondering and pondering.
See what you think.
Arthur C. Clarke’s “The Star.”
Be Nice Anyway. You're Not The Center of the Universe
Mamacita says: Let’s talk about simple, basic, seasonal etiquette. Where is it?
I will never understand why some people feel they have to be so defensive and hostile all the time. These people whine “insensitivity” but the truth is, THEY are the ones who are insensitive.
This time of year, in particular, one reads article after article, letter after letter, about incident after incident concerning “violation of my rights as a citizen/resident of this country and I want it STOPPED RIGHT NOW or I shall SUE and WHINE SOME MORE and WRITE SOME MORE LETTERS TO THE EDITOR and COMMENT ON WEBSITES and DEMAND THAT MY RIGHTS BE HONORED.” Not anyone else’s: just theirs.
Well, in this country, we all have a right to our rights. But shouldn’t rants like this be reserved for issues that are more, well, life and death? Because if you’re raising such a stink about a candle and a candy cane, what have you left for horrific death and tragedy?
I really don’t think anybody had you singled out for abuse when that snowman and the reindeer were put out in the yard. And if someone wishes to put out a nativity scene, well, they’ve got rights, too. Just don’t look. Why can’t we all make these diverse ways of celebration a learning time, not a time of hostility and tempers and offense? Oh, and if you want your own beliefs represented in public via a symbol, why don’t you simply ask for one? You know, BEFORE you start ranting and raving and whining and complaining, etc. Nobody is trying to suppress you; maybe people just don’t KNOW! And whatever a person’s beliefs might be, there is never any excuse or good reason for bad behavior and violent reactions. Often, such public displays were purchased by donations or contributions; ask the others who share your beliefs to chip in.
When Sam Levinson came home from school and announced to his mother that “I’m the ‘S’ in ‘Merry Christmas!'”, his mother didn’t go bonkers and storm the school demanding that this very non-Jewish program be removed immediately for the sake of her family. She sighed, and smiled, and said “Oy.” Her family was secure enough in its beliefs to allow a little participation in other people’s beliefs as well.
Families so insecure in their beliefs that they can’t tolerate the slightest insight or gesture from someone else’s belief system are sad pathetic entities indeed. Families who are so sure that THEIRS is the ONLY proper belief system that they can’t tolerate the slightest insight or gesture from someone else’s are even sadder. All religions have that kind of people. They are not good advertising.
What’s happened to people? Why are so many people out there up in arms because the majority of this nation’s population is happy and smiling and sharing and putting up symbols of a belief system that most of that population believes in? Why can’t those who don’t, just smile and shake their heads and go home and put up their own stuff? I don’t get all huffy when it’s Eid-Ul-Adhaor or Boxing Day or Kwanzaa or Navaratri or Omisoka or Posada or Hanukkah or Solstice or Hug-A-Tree-Sprite Day or whatever it might be for someone, and I’m flattered when these people wish me well with language and vocabulary I don’t use myself. It wouldn’t bother me in the least to have to look at a symbol that doesn’t represent me. I would just be happy that someone is probably happy to be represented; I know I am! And if someone doesn’t approve of a symbol in a government building, why not just ask if they would please represent yours, too? Wouldn’t that be nicer, all around, than demanding that ALL symbols be removed because YOU don’t approve of them? People who work for the government like holidays, too. Government represents the people, doesn’t it? And you can always turn your chair so you don’t have to see people being happy because of something YOU don’t approve of. That little twinkling tree or creche on someone’s desk wasn’t put there to make you angry. It was put there to make someone happy. Why are some people so bent on removing other people’s happiness?
Pretty much my only good memories about elementary school are about holidays. Take those away and I’ve got year after year of sitting out in the hallway tutoring the slow kids.
Why can’t we all just chill?
Because it just seems to me that if you’ve chosen to live in a country wherein the majority of the population believes in celebrating Christmas, you’re a bit of an asscrack if you make a big loud stink about your ‘rights’ and get all huffy when a little old lady smiles at you and wishes you a Merry Christmas. That’s just plain bad manners, oh sensitive one. You don’t have to participate, but what’s the harm in letting others do so? Are people storming your home and forcing you to be jolly? It’s not working.
Why are you so insensitive about the beliefs of friendly people who mean you no harm, and so ultra-sensitive and quick to find and take offense if you suspect someone has put up a twinkling star or a bell or perhaps has a candy cane in the house and might offer you a lick? Someone is wishing you happiness and peace? How dare they! How DARE someone wish you well! The NERVE!
I’ve been invited to Christmas parties all my life. Not everyone does it to my liking. That’s none of my business; I’m just happy to be with a bunch of people who wanted me there, too. I’ve been to Chinese New Year parties and regular New Year parties. I’ve been invited to Hanukkah parties, and Kwanzaa parties, and parties given by Hindus and Buddhists and Pagans and atheists and people who write “nothing” in the blank that asks for ‘religion.’
People who consider themselves ‘nothing’ make me kind of sad, but that’s their business, too.
People who pressure others to conform to a particular sect or belief system, now, that’s another subject altogether. But people who just want to express a wish for happiness to another person, using terminology he/she is familiar with? Thank them and smile back. Your face won’t break unless your belief system is based on finding offense in other people’s belief systems, in which case you’re a prick. And just seeing or hearing evidence of other people’s beliefs isn’t going to hurt anybody, either. I love learning about other people’s cultures and beliefs, and I love seeing their symbols and hearing their stories, too. This knowledge isn’t going to change or betray my own, but it might make me smarter.
Oh, and if I lived in a country amidst a population whose beliefs were alien and even offensive to mine, would I make a stink about it? No, I would not. I would pay attention and maybe learn something, and do my own thing at home. I would never presume to insist that the world revolve around me and believe only what I myself believed. How presumptuous can a person get?
Honestly? I am not offended when people use their own personal belief system to wish happiness to me. I am honored.
If a person sees me in public – or in private, for that matter – and extends a hand of friendship to me with words that are not representative of my own personal belief system, I don’t withdraw my hand in a huff and hurt them with a stream of words expressing my OWN beliefs in such a way that this person is fully aware they’ve somehow offended me by wishing me well in terms they understand but I don’t.
I’m also smart enough to understand that a creche is not only a symbol of Christmas but the reason we have it in the first place. Talk all you wish about winter solstices, etc; that’s something entirely different. We may have busted a move on your month, but the reason for the season is not the same. I’m willing to share; are you? And Hanukkah belongs to Christians as well as to Jews; at least, it belongs to the ones who’ve read up.
Please, everyone, wish me a Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Kwanzaa. If you celebrate nothing, wish me a Happy Holiday Season. Pleasant December. Good Times. People want to be friendly and wish you well. Don’t throw it back in their faces. Be nice.
Merry Christmas. Etc.
Previously posted last year, and the year before, about this same time. Still true. Nice people don’t let their belief systems get in the way of being nice to others. If you can’t deal with that, you might want to look into your belief system a little more closely, because if it’s teaching you to be impolite, there’s something wrong with it. Secure, good people don’t have to tear down other people in order to feel validated, vindicated, or politically correct.
Then again, political correctness has never been a goal for me. I much prefer being intelligent, snarky, and kind.
Unless you’re obsessed with politically correctness, in which case, may the bird of paradise fly up your nose.
This Teacher Loves GLEE, and Here's Why
Mamacita says: Glee makes me want to sing. Glee even has the power to make me think I CAN sing. But that’s beside the point.
When I watch Glee, I switch back and forth with my point of view. Sometimes, I’m one of the students, and then I absorb the wonder of having a safe place in which to express my talent with other students who feel the same way. I curl up in my chair, totally digging the dancing, the belting, the counterpoint, the Broadway songs my family listens to as a matter of course but that others don’t always know, the interaction among the students – very diverse in the midst of their shared talents. I watch the artsy kids rally behind any of their number who have problems – pregnancy, bullying, slushies in the face, football – and I relish the proof that kids can be athletes AND musicians, and do both well.
Sometimes, in my head, I’m dancing with them. I, so graceless that I trip over nothing, am part of this choreography of camaraderie and talent, walking and chewing gum in perfect time to the music.
But the main reason I love Glee is this, and I dare say it’s politically incorrect to the max. Might I add that being politically correct has never been important to me? I love Glee because it’s so refreshingly wonderfully awesome to see classes taught in school by instructors who know how to do what they’re teaching, and do it well.
My career has been lush with English teachers who didn’t know how to spell or write a complete sentence, and whose vocabulary was woefully small. I’ve had to work with PE teachers who were flabby and overweight, and who sat on the bleachers and WATCHED their students run laps, etc. I’ve dealt with math teachers who knew nothing beyond algebra, social studies teachers who gave out handouts and slept in class, and coaches who didn’t even know the rules of the game, let alone how to help a student learn them, and insisted the “no pass, no play” rules did not apply to their starters. Even Sue, whose technique is blistering and hardly a good example, knows exactly what she’s doing and what her cheerleaders need to be doing out on the field. She’s a mean one, but she absolutely would not put up with bullying in the building. An exception might be Emma, the counselor, but even though her quirks and obsessions are many, her heart is in the right place, and I can’t imagine her ever pointing to the door and telling a student, “Sorry, I don’t deal with anything to do with sex or personal problems.”
It’s so refreshing to see teachers who are experts in what they are teaching. I love to see Will singing and dancing; his students know for a fact that their teacher KNOWS what they want to know. I love to see Bieste – my favorite character right now – teaching by example all kinds of things besides football, and it’s obvious that she knows her football.
By example. That might be what I’m trying to say here. A teacher who doesn’t know his/her subject thoroughly, and who doesn’t know how to use it in AND out of the classroom, and who expects/requires students to “do as I say, not as I do,” is not a good example, and has no business in our classrooms.
The world of GLEE is by no means a perfect world, and all the bad, negative things that exist in every school exist here, as well, but somehow, the adults in this school seem to know what to do. At least, they try.
Their school board, however, is made up of cowardly gits who allowed a dangerous bully to return to school in spite of the fact that he gave a death threat to another student. This is morally wrong, but sadly, quite typical.
I am also looking forward to what will happen when a teacher witnesses a slushie toss.
GLEE rocks. I watch it online every Wednesday.
P.S. The addition of Dot Jones, as Coach Bieste, was a masterstroke of genius. Dot is a fantastic addition to an already fantastic cast.
