Tuesday, July 22, 2014

My Angel

I wish I could sing like you!
I wish I could bead like you!
I wish I could write like you!

When you are doubting yourself, remember there is always someone out there who wishes they can be like you.  The specialness of you makes you who you are.  You are sometimes an angel, sometimes a pain (you know where), but you are my angel and my pain.

I wish I could look like you!
I wish I could draw like you!
I wish I could think like you!

My angel, my pain, my little confused one, you must remember that you are the only one of you and there is no one exactly like you.  Negativity only generates negativity.  So stop bringing it on and bring on the joy that is just as great within you.  The light shining within your soul is uniquely your own and you should show others that shining spirit that makes you my angel.


For Deena
7/21/14

Monday, July 7, 2014

The Bridges of Life


          We all cross the same bridge into this life through our mothers but sometimes in different ways.  Once this is done, the patterns of our life diverge in many directions just like the roadways of our country crossing many bridges.  The bridge of separation/segregation is now like an invisible string across the roads to success for many.  In the corporate world, this string is controlled and pulled tight from the top with obstacles most cannot discern or recognize as a bridge.  The interview for a very high position is mostly held by corporate Americans, usually older white men, with answers skewed towards a specific group of people.  In one interview I was asked if I would follow orders, even if I thought they were wrong, from a superior.  The wrong answer is, I would ask to discuss the order and express my concerns to that superior.  I am not military or from a military background and, even though I surpassed all other standards this was one I could not meet--- undemanding, unquestioning loyalty to a superior.
     Making it in life requires the crossing of many bridges to become a success, especially if you are one of the minorities in this country.  We have been climbing up and over many bridges created by a society that does not want us on the other side.  As a little girl, I wanted to see what was on the other side and at that time there was only one visible and indestructible bridge called segregation/separation that had to be crossed; so I figured a way around that bridge to get to the other side.    And this bridge still exists but has become hidden and covered like the old covered bridges, found mostly in the west.  The bridge of segregation does not always deal with the color of your skin but can be built around your heritage, sexual orientation, religion, or other differences that are prevalent in any society.  The latter, religion, should be a strong bond, a connector not a separating point.  Yet in America, we still have this invisible, insidious bridge that must be eradicated.
          Another bridge we encounter is deprivation which is inherent in all poor neighborhoods around the world.  People in America, striving to survive on the pittance from the government, which is supposed to supplement their employment, but they never make it through the last week of each month without the aid of food banks or friends.  Facing the struggle to subsist on the pittance, given for survival, especially if you are a single mother of children, there is always strife in your life.  This is supposed to be the richest country in the world and yet there are children in schools who do not get three solid meals each day.  In our schools, there should be a last meal of the day to help some children survive until the next day, yet this is not done.  There are surpluses of grain, wheat and other food products in our great country which are not being used but they could be used in these communities to survive.  How can you sleep at night knowing that this has not been remedied?  More Bridges to come….

Monday, June 16, 2014

Sounds from Above Birds

Stepping off the Express bus in front of our Longhouse on the way to class at Moreland, the English throne, I hear you above me--cheerfully chirping, complaining, chattering -- going about the tasks you have choreographed throughout time.
Busy with the everyday activities of making a nest for spring babies, not yet conceived, scouting out the best places to get the supplies needed to build your nest and maintain your family.
Most walk by you and don’t even notice that you are not only in the trees, but up in the rafters, for you have adapted to our circumstances and make your home where you will.
I stop and listen for I know that call, which I taught myself at an early age.  Bird calls are magnificent. 
It is a great talent to possess.  I used it once at the zoo with some birds and the males stepped forward to see what I was, giving everyone a great picture moment.  They were protecting their family from this strange bird and we were in heaven seeing them so close.
I know that you are one of the truly free creatures that exist everywhere.
You existed with the dinosaurs, with the prehistoric man, with time before time began.

You have been here and will continue to be here, after we have destroyed ourselves with our carelessness of your earth.

by
Elnora Palmtag

THE DECLAMATION OF GIRLS: SURVIVING THEIR HEGEMONIC FOLDS- Recitatif revisited

By
Elnora Palmtag
   After reading Recitatif by Toni Morrison as a freshman in college, I was asked to determine which of the girls was black and which of them was white by Linda Spain at Linn Benton Community College.  This seemed to be the primary theme of the work.   However, now I have come to the conclusion that there are many sociological, psychological, and metaphysical meanings to this text.  Sociologically, the relevance of social hierarchy in the school and society, the hegemonic status of women in this world, and the difference in the maternal values of the girls, psychologically, the treatment of the Twyla and Roberta by the big girls and the treatment of Maggie by all of them, and metaphysically, in terms of Twyla’s mother’s religious belief (her truth) and her unreal relationship to the rest of the world are only part of the new view of this work.
     My main claim is the commonality of the girls in both their lives and their relationships with their mothers.  When the girls meet at “St. Bonny's,” an orphanage, there is no mention of their race but more of their commonality, of being poor and uneducated.  There is only one person at the orphanage, Maggie, “the kitchen woman,” who is considered less than these two girls.  Why is there “trouble” as discussed by Judith Butler and how do the girls cope with it throughout their lives?  What are the common feminine roles in the story and how does this affect the lives of these two girls throughout their lives?  And, finally, what role do these girls play in the deconstruction of Maggie?
     Recitatif starts with two woman in “trouble,” as Twyla’s “mother danced all night, and Roberta’s was sick.”   Per Butler, trouble “euphemized some fundamentally mysterious problem usually related to the alleged mystery of all things feminine,” and these mothers are definitely trouble.(T. C. Pg. 2540)   They are also hegemonic, portraying the ideology of the respective dominant/male ruling specimens in their societies with a shared poor social status.  If as Butler states “gender is culturally formed” and “performative,” then these two mothers are not the normative of society but the abnormal and definitely would not be understood by the general society and especially the male contingencies of that society, for they do epitomizes “trouble.”  If as stated, they are “trouble,” have they passed  this trouble on to their girls?  Are these women, the mothers and the big girls, in this story truly uncanny?
     One  aspect of the commonality of these characters is their uncanniness in both life and their position in the mainstream of life as expressed the first time by Twyla when she stated, “I got sick to my stomach….it was something else to be stuck in a strange place with a girl from a whole other race.”  Twyla further reinforces the standard set by her mother when she says, “she said,” referring to her mother, “that they never washed their hair and they smelled funny.”  The girls are uncanny to each other because their understanding of the other’s race and culture is skewed through meaning “based on binaries” that are “hierarchical and arbitrary,” per Derrida.  What has caused this breach in understanding?  Is it because they come from different but similar poor backgrounds?
     When Butler states that “the real is replaced with the signified/signifier as a child is a blank page and we fill in the page with our signifiers,” however, the mothers in this story have shown signs that are wrong and the signifiers that are miscued, then the signified (the girls) will be erroneous in their perceptions and expectations of their roles in society.  This confusion is displayed when Twyla said of her mother, “I could have killed her,” when her mother came to visit her at St. Bonny’s.  The first signifier is of the racial separateness is stressed by her mother, which Twyla signifies erroneously.  Yet Twyla begins to recognize that her mother is not normative of the rest of society and she wants to destroy this abnormality.  This sentiment is stated again after her mother starts cussing in front of the whole church and Twyla states, “All I could think of was that she really needed to be killed.”  According to Raymond Williams, these actions show “a difference between a process of setting limits and exerting pressures,” (T. C. pg. 1426) and, in this case, Twyla’s mother is acting according to the hegemony of her society, the predetermined external forces in her community and trying to pass these on to her daughter,.  
     Roberta’s mother was “bigger than any man and on her chest was the biggest cross….And in the crook of her arm was the biggest Bible ever made” per Twyla.  And although she carried a Bible, she was definitely not a Christian personage, when “she didn’t say anything” after meeting Twyla and her mother, Mary, just “grabbed Roberta with her Bible-free hand and stepped out of line, walking quickly to the rear of it.”  Again, here are mothers who have conformed to the hegemonic base ideology of separateness of class, culture, and gender expectations, according to their separate social structures.    This is very apparent with one mother, being hypocritical and wearing the wrong clothes in church, and the other mother, always leaving her eight year old daughter alone, while she went dancing, and later cussing in church.  With these differences being reinforced by their mothers, what caused these girls to survive their mother’s uncanniness and abnormalities and not accepting their hegemonic ways?
      Per Naomi Zack, “women are those human beings who are related to the historical category of individuals who are designated female from birth or biological mothers or primary sexual choice of men.”  (Spelman, pg. 201)   So there is a commonality between the girls and their mothers in their poor status in their respective communities.   Commonality in their situation at the home, which is noted when Twyla imparts “it didn’t matter that we looked like salt and pepper…We were eight years old and got F’s all the time.”  Both girls had handicaps in their learning curve, Twyla because “I couldn’t remember what I read or what the teacher said.  And Roberta because she couldn’t read at all and didn’t even listen to the teacher.”
      Also, further perpetuating this aspect of their commonality was the fact that they “weren’t even real orphans with beautiful dead parents in the sky.  We were dumped,” which implies that they are outside the mainstream of society below all others, like garbage, to be discarded at the will by their abnormal mothers, with no fathers present to help raise them.  Connecting because of their commonality, the girls are bound in this “strange place,” “St. Bonny’s,” and were further pushed to a closeness because “the big girls (“they were put-out girls, scared runaways most of them”) on the second floor pushed us around now and then.”  Why did the girls focus so much of their attention on these girls and what effect did this have on their relationship?
     Not only was their commonality reinforced by “the big girls” but even though they were “big girls,” they were girls “who fought their uncles off but looked tough to us, and mean.”  This put the “big girls” out of their realm, because “we were scared of them, and also put them almost in a male role, which Twyla and Roberta were too young to understand.  What is the deconstruction of Maggie and its importance in the story? 
     Giving credence to this concept of the deconstruction of Maggie was the brutality portrayed on her by the uncanny big girls, because she was “the kitchen woman with legs like parenthesis” who “wore this really stupid hat-a kid’s hat with ear flaps,” and she “couldn’t talk.”  Maggie is the true epitome of femaleness, having no voice or knowledge, and being of a diminutive size didn’t help.  Adding to this is the uncanniness is the fact that no one knew  why Maggie could not talk.  How do Twyla and Roberta contribute to the deconstruction of Maggie? 
       When Twyla and Roberta tried to be mean to Maggie, they did not know how to do it, like the big girls, instead yelling “Dummy!  Dummy” and “Bow legs!  Bow legs!”  They were not strong or big enough to cause any real harm and Maggie knew this.  However, Maggie was lower than Twyla and Roberta due to her uniqueness, not only by not having a voice or any real power but also because she was a nonentity, in that she was neither black nor white. 
     All of these things brought the girls closer together in these commonalities of circumstances, if not culture or race.  Still, did these things from their past bring about a change in their futures? Or did they follow the hegemony of the society that spawned them?   Was there a change in their futures and how much?
     Because of their mutual non-acceptance of their mother’s appearances and actions and the abandonment of parental roles in opposition to societal expectations, both Twyla and Roberta became self-educated and improved their circumstances beyond their parents.  This is witnessed when Twyla asks Roberta years later, “Did you ever learn to read?” Roberta proceeds to read the menu perfectly for her.   And Roberta sees the “dark blue limousine” and asks Twyla “You married a Chinaman?”  “No,” she laughed.  “He’s the driver.”   In some respects, the mothers are still there.  Roberta does rise above her mother but not by not nearly as much as Twyla because she is “tired, tired, tired,” and she states “we had to economize.”  However, Twyla was “on her way to the Coast” as a hippie with “hair was so big and wild I could hardly see her face.”  And,when they meet later, she is married and living in “Annandale, a neighborhood full of doctors and IBM executives.”  This begs to wonder what other changes have taken effect in their lives and what are the repercussions of these changes?
     Twyla went to work at “the Howard Johnson’s on the Thruway before the Kingston exit.  Not a bad job.”   She married a man who “is as comfortable as a house slipper.”  Everything in her life is down home and never changes because “to my husband’s family” their town of Newburgh “was still some upstate paradise of a time long past.”   Twyla noticed a change was coming.  This change was demonstrated when she meets up again with Roberta who has married into the upper crust and now “her huge hair was sleek now, smooth around a small, nicely shaped head.  Shoes, dress, everything lovely and summery, and rich.” 
     Roberta is now well above Twyla and she uses the deconstruction of Maggie to belittle Twyla the way the big girls did them long ago.  When Twyla says she remembers the day Maggie fell, Roberta says, “Maggie didn't fall.”   Roberta insists,   "No, Twyla. They knocked her down. Those girls pushed her down and tore her clothes. In the orchard."    This is the truest form of deconstructionism, per Derrida, when he says, “Signified over signifier; intelligible over sensible; speech over writing; activity over passivity.” 
     Still all of these changes are well above and beyond the range of personal experiences from their childhood for both women.  They have lost their childhood commonality but “the point of articulating the grounds for commonality among women is not simply to prevent unwanted exclusion…; it also serves as “a moral basis to end oppression by making liberatory efforts compelling to all women in their sameness” (Spelman, pg. 202.)
     The new commonality of femaleness is stressed when they first meet up again and in the treatment of the education of their children.  At the Howard Johnson’s, Twyla and Roberta meet but they are so different now that Twyla observes that “there was a silence that came downright after I laughed,” for “laughter in the face of these is indispensable for feminism.”  At the end of this awkward situation, their old commonality is renewed when they both ask about the other’s mother before separating again.   Twyla asks, “How’s your mother?”  “Fine.” How’s yours?” “Pretty as a picture.”  These responses solidify their old friendship and bring cohesiveness to their mutual commonality.    What is the change?
      When next they meet, it has been over 20 years and “now we are behaving like sisters separated for much too long…Maybe it was the thing itself.  Just being there, together.  Two little girls who knew what nobody else in the world knew-how not to ask questions.  How to believe what had to be believed.”  Both women are protective and caring of their children in making sure they are given every opportunity to be better and receive better than they did.  When racial “strife came to us that fall, Twyla’s son was being bused across town, where Roberta lived and Roberta’s son was being bused the other direction.  Roberta was against the busing, while Twyla did not care as long as her son received a good education.  Coming into conflict over this issue drove the two friends into polar directions, especially when Roberta says, “It’s not about us, Twyla.  Me and you.  It’s about our kids.”  “What’s more us than that?  Although they are in disagreement over the school issue, they start a sign war that no one else understood.  In this instance, even the signs were a commonality, because they were addressing each other personally with the signs.   And, finally, the last sign asking, “IS YOUR MOTHER WELL?” brings them back to their original commonality, the bad mother.  Being women with lots in common, especially motherhood, after such a bad start in life, both women strive to make the best of their lives. 
      There is a positive reckoning at the end of the story when Roberta begs Twyla to sit with her in the coffee shop.  Twyla counters with “I’d just as soon not hear anything, Roberta.  It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”  Is this because they have not been keeping in touch through the years the way friends would?  Or does she just want to clear up the misunderstanding she caused with her callus words earlier, when she said, “You’re the same little state kid who kicked a poor old black lady when she was down on the ground?”    She confesses to Twyla that she hadn’t kicked Maggie when she was down, and “I don’t want you to carry that around.  It was just that I wanted to do it so bad that day-wanting to do is doing it.”  They have come full circle and now try to reconstruct Maggie and their commonality.  What is left for them?
     Bringing them back to their beginning, so that they could continue on with their lives and leave their past behind, Twyla says, “We were kids, Roberta.”    "Did I tell you My mother, she never did stop dancing."    "Yes. You told me. And mine, she never got well." When she took them away she really was crying. "Oh shit, Twyla. Shit, shit, shit. What the hell happened to Maggie?" Even though Morrison has brought the girls back to their common background and to them“behaving like sisters separated for much too long,” they are left in a quandary because they cannot reconstruct Maggie.  This will always be this issue between them, separating them.
It begs the reader to find out what other issues are affecting both girls in this simple tale.  Do they have underlying issues that cause all of this?  What about the mothers’ underlying issues and what about the Big Bozo?  How does she figure in the female issue of this story?

Works Cited:
Spelman, Elizabeth V. "Inclusive Feminism: A Third Wave Theory Of Women's Commonality." Hypatia 22.3 (2007): 201-204.Academic Search Premier. Web. 2 Mar. 2014.

 LeitchVincent B., Johnson, Barbara,  McGown, John,  et. al.  “The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism.” Second   Edition (2010) pg. 1-2758. College English: Academic Search Premier. Web. 2 Mar. 2014.

An Uncanny Beauty in the Midst of A Spatial Aura

You are scary in your complexity and your beauty,

So scared to hold you, caress you, or handle your parts.

Unfolding step by glorious step and still

You terrify me with your benign power.


You are so small in the scheme of life,

but so grand in the lessons imparted.


How do I take you in?

A day out of time,

An hour out of each day,

Some minutes out of each hour,

Or do I savor our time together,

Like soul mates destined to meet,

Again and again,


Oh, to truly make you my own.

(Inspired by my first viewing of God created the sky and painted it Blue so we’d feel Good in it by Michelle Ray on 3/4/2014.)

By Elnora Palmtag

How Could You Destroy Beauty

Slowly unfurling the patina of her life,
The beautiful imagery of a possible death,
To capture the majesty displayed for all to visualize
The work of a life cut short by the brutality of another.
 
A demise so cruelly undertaken by one,
still acquiring the products of her prime,
a beautiful soul so cruelly stopped,
like the hands of some broken-down wrist watch.
 
What is to become will never be,
for she has been stopped from discovering life’s mysteries.
 
The mystery of why, he will never know,
or understand the beautiful glow,
the swirling beauty that was within her soul,
which has been darkened by his sin.

The greatest sin of this life on earth,
which only now sees her potential worth,
worth so much more than she endured,
taken from us in a way so violently,
violence that has been put on display
for all to see in such a beautiful and glorious way.

She lives on in her earthen box with her dark secrets
displayed for all to witness
For all to learn from her life
all that they can or should become
Become the instrument of life
to treasure each moment that has been given
Given in a way that is as unknown as the why of her death.
 
Dream on for her and all of her ilk
Dream on for death is only a stopping point for one
to let all know that there is more to this drama called life. 
Uncanny it may be for some but a mystery
A mystery which can bring such joy and hope for her earthy soul.
 
Treasure each moment
no matter how intolerable the present existence is for you.
Be aware, wary, and worry no more about the how or why
concentrate on the beauty that surrounds each day that is given
Given as a gift to be unwrapped at leisure
Whether a small prize not worth the wrappings of life
or treat it as a beautiful expensive gift
to be treasured throughout time.
 
Time to make the best of your gift,
no matter how little time you have.
Time to contend with the dark clouds
That bring the murky undertones that is life.
 
Given so freely and taken so cruelly.
Live on with what you have left on this earth
for even a small contribution is the broadest claim
to a life well-spent.

(Inspired by the book, Batterers by Denise Levertov, located in Special Collections, 5th Floor OSU Library)
 
 By Elnora Palmtag
 

The Beauty of Sight




The sharp intense pain of the sun’s blinding light
stops me in my journey through this life.

It makes me want to close my eyes and
rest for a while from the strength of its gaze.

A glimmer of the truth that I want to share
with anyone willing to take the time to listen is all I ask.

How can I go on my way with this obstacle in my path
so that I see so little?

Ah, but what if I could not see this blinding beautiful light
that is so harsh while so beautiful to lay my eyes upon?
Where would I get my inspirations for these works which are shining in my soul?

Perchance I don’t need this light
 but need to look into my own soul
for the light that shines within
to show the glorious, hurtful, wonderful thing
that is this existence on our earth.

I must look for this light within
to shine a ray without.


 (This poem was inspired on 2/25/14 by the book, Shedding Light by Heather Weston, which is in braille but with a complex and intriguing translation for the sighted.  The viewing of this book will change your view of your world.)
By  Elnora Palmtag