Showing posts with label America. Show all posts

Sunday studies: East of Eden, At the Pulpit, & Black people and the early history of the church

(some rambling[-as-in-meandering] thoughts from my afternoon reading today—I am no expert in these histories, but I feel it is important to read and sit with the lived accounts of people who came before me in facing up to racism in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and to talk about these stories and people, to name them and honor them. This post is simply a means of sharing what I have been reading and thinking today in the hopes that it may lead you down a studious rabbit-hole of your own.)

 . . . . 

As part of my Sunday study today, I read several chapters of "At the Pulpit" (as part of my ongoing cover-to-cover read-through). If you've not read it, it's a fantastic compilation of women's writings in the Church, compiled and meticulously researched by the Church History department. It was previously only available in full in print, but has since been made available online (presumably once a few copyright issues were straightened out that had made online access tricky previously) and on the Gospel Library App (Restoration and Church History > At the Pulpit).

Chapter 19 is an address by Ellenor G. Jones, and the introductory biographical sketch of Ellenor is striking. I was particularly struck by her story given the premise of a novel I'm currently reading ("The Vanishing Half" by Brit Bennett). A quick online search does not render many results on Ellenor G. Jones, so I am grateful for the work of Church historians to compile her biographical details alongside her words on prayer. Although my online search did not yield much in the way of results for Ellenor G. Jones, as I endeavored to find more about her, I did find historical accounts of other early Black members of the church. Today I read about (including some of the available primary sources) Samuel & Amanda Chambers and Bridget "Biddy" Mason.

Bridget "Biddy" Mason's story is an important one. She was enslaved by a Mississippi family who converted to Mormonism and joined the saints in Utah (then-Mexico, always and still the ancestral homelands of the Ute, Bannock, Goshute, Paiute, and Eastern Shoshone peoples who were violently displaced by the saints upon their arrival). Though she herself was not a member of the church, Mason was affiliated with the church to an extent, by nature of her proximity to it as a forced laborer in a household undertaking the journey west. She cared for members of the traveling party in all imaginable ways, in addition to caring for her three own children who were also part of the group.

I think it is significant and important that Biddy Mason's story is included here by church historians—this is a critical and imperative acknowledgment that slavery was practiced in Utah, even when it was made illegal in other places. Too, that this account given of Biddy Mason's life includes the story of her emancipation in California, philanthropy, and founding of First AME Church in Los Angeles (the oldest African American congregation in the city), is significant as well. It would be easy for historians to have painted her life as an anecdote or the object of interest in a larger story of the Mississippi family who brought her with them to Utah; but that kind of approach would be inherently dehumanizing, as it de-centers Mason's experience and humanity. Instead, this treatment of Biddy Mason's cumulative life experience is humbling and empowering. It positions her as the moral and spiritual authority of her own life, with the inherent worth of a child of God. I think that is a powerful thing.

Now and then, I still hear about Sunday School lessons in which past and present racism in the church is ascribed to and perpetuated by false teachings from the Biblical account of Cain and Abel. I think it is a human instinct to want to ascribe meaning to stories. But I refute this ill-conceived notion of racial assignment being tied to spiritual worthiness; in its place, I would like to share from one of my favorite books, "East of Eden"—itself, a retelling of the Book of Genesis. John Steinbeck's characters' meditations on choice and agency resonate deeply with me and have for years. So, too, does this reimagining of the fundamental lessons apparent in these early Bible stories. I also love these passages within the broader context of these chapters of "East of Eden"—the characters are unafraid to delve deep into scriptural works and to turn them every which way, as though examining an object and all its facets in bright light. It is altogether an instructive account of how one might reexamine old ideas with new vision.

below: several favorite passages from one of my most favorite books, "East of Eden" by John Steinbeck (honestly one of the most brilliant books of all time).

 . . . . 

Adam said, "I can't get over a feeling that Cain got the dirty end of the stick."

"Maybe he did," said Samuel. "But Cain lived and had children, and Abel lives only in the story. We are Cain's children. And isn't it strange that three grown men, here in a century so many thousands of years away, discuss this crime as thought it happened in King City yesterday and hadn't come up for trial?"...

Lee said, ... "And here I make a rule—a great and lasting story is about everyone or it will not last. The strange and foreign is not interesting—only the deeply personal and familiar."

Samuel said, "Apply that to the Cain-Abel story."

And Adam said, "I didn't kill my brother—" Suddenly he stopped and his mind went reeling back in time.

"I think I can," Lee answered Samuel. "I think this is the best-known story in the world because it is everybody's story. I think it is the symbol of the human soul. I'm feeling my way now—don't jump on me if I'm not clear. The greatest terror a child can have is that he is not loved, and rejection is the hell he fears. I think everyone in the world to a large or small extent has felt rejection. And with rejection comes anger, and with anger some kind of crime in revenge for the rejection, and with the crime guilt—and there is the story of mankind. I think that if rejection could be amputated, the human would not be what he is. ... It is all there—the start, the beginning. One child, refused the love he craves, kicks the cat and hides his secret guilt; and another steals so that money will make him loved; and a third conquers the world—and always the guilt and revenge and more guilt. The human is the only guilty animal. Now wait! Therefore I think this old and terrible story is important because it is a chart of the soul—the secret, rejected, guilty soul. Mr. Trask, you said you did not kill your brother, but then you remembered something. I don't want to know what it was, but was it very far apart from Cain and Abel?" (p. 268-269)

...

"Don't you see?" [Lee] cried. "The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in 'Thou shalt,' meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—'Thou mayest'—that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if 'Thou mayest'—it is also true that 'Thou mayest not.' Don't you see?"

"Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?"

"Ah!" said Lee. "I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I am well prepared. Any writing which has influenced the thinking and the lives of innumerable people is important. Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, 'Do thou,' and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in 'Thou shalt.' Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But 'Thou mayest'! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he still has the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win." Lee's voice was a chant of triumph. 

... Lee said, "These old men believe a true story, and they know a true story when they hear it. They are critics of truth. They know that these sixteen verses are a history of humankind in any age or culture or race. They do not believe a man writes fifteen and three-quarter verses of truth and tells a lie with one verb. Confucius tells men how they should live to have good and successful lives. But this—this is a ladder to climb to the stars." Lee's eyes shone. "You can never lose that. It cuts the feet from under weakness and cowardliness and laziness. ... This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed—because 'Thou mayest.'" (p. 301-302)

 . . . . 


p.s. If you haven't yet, I highly recommend watching the Black Lives Matter to Christ's Juneteenth Fireside; doing so is several hours well-spent.

on living in a western world; modernity and convenience; complications

(most of what follows is draft text from a couple of separate blogpost drafts from 2018—I am cleaning out my old drafts so I'm posting these half-baked thoughts here as I think there's some worth to what I started writing on several different occasions but never officially finished.)

 . . . . 

I've long harbored a pet theory about the world I live in—about modern America and why so many things are the way that they are. As I've grappled with my identity as an American, I've had much to consider and to think about, as well as topics drawn into sharp relief in my experiences outside the states and outside myself.

In a nutshell, my theory is more of an observation that the 21st Century-United States has placed a premium on convenience above all else—above all else and often at a cost: costs to ourselves and our relationships, costs to our national identity, costs to the environment, and innumerable costs to our fellow humans.

The summer I spent in Italy first opened my eyes to the conveniences of modern America that I took for granted. Italy is another industrialized nation, so it, too, has many of its own engineered conveniences, but the cultural differences are notable, and I think significant.
 . . . . 

trying to understand the structures of power and society in which I have grown up and to which I have been accustomed for the last 28 years of my life (i.e., all of it). they are not necessarily better, but they are what I know and what I am familiar with and what have been institutionalized in mainstream modern America for years, decades, centuries. that's not to say they're right or that they're the best way. lately I've been grappling with those very beliefs and trying to understand how change could be possible when everything is so entrenched in those systems and structures of power.

specifically, I have been trying to educate myself more on modes and methods of thinking that are unlike, divergent, different, reductive, expansive, new, unassuming, and every other possible adjective than my own. I am no expert, even in those systems that I have been raised, but I am an observer and so I bring to this writing my own observations and musings, informed or uninformed as they may be. I recognize that my own manners of thinking and seeing and being have their own flaws and biases—I am still on the journey to recognizing more plainly what those are exactly and how to quantify them. I don't pretend to be aware of all of the things. it comes back to David Foster Wallace's analogy of "this is water." (—an excellent speech that discusses the very notions we take for granted as the norm). I write this fully acknowledging that this is simply my way of seeing some things, at this mere snapshot of a moment. I'm still trying to read and learn and listen, amongst the hustle and bustle of the rest of my everyday life. it is fully and unapologetically a process.


thoughts I need to suss out:
western powers of structure - many of these have marginalized and suppressed and exploited people who are other. many times intentionally. it is terrible. terrible doesn't feel grave enough a word.
the human pain and suffering and the ongoing damage and harm are enormous.

western structures of power - white, male, landowner. holdover of feudalism when you think about it. classism.
then voting rights in america.
the whole thing of america and colonialism and imperialism and westward expansion.
why is it still a thing? we say it's not but it totally is. i sit in dozens of meetings where the ideals of home ownership are touted above many other things. i get it  i do — the proverbial american dream. the white picket fence, the green lawn, the perfectly kept house. things within our control and a space of our own. and western systems of power support this ideal—cities and local governments make revenue from property taxes and sales taxes (which businesses often rely on property ownership and use of natural resources or other resources) to provide the services to fuel the quality of life for residents. the american dream. the 40 hours 5 days a week suburbia dream.
but where does that leave us? anyone who doesn't fit that mold - neglected, othered.

and that mold was never what this land originally was. indigenous inhabitants—these groups and peoples are not monolithic, but some nations and cultures I have learned about never prized land ownership in this way. some groups were migratory, relying on the natural ebb and flow of seasons and herds and abundance to direct their days and their villages. others entirely do not use land ownership as a model. and so those communities, now in a nation that has exploited and conquered and ostracized and marginalized their ownership—not to use a word that doesn't necessarily apply, but take it to mean their prerogative to live how they choose—now those people live in poverty without water and without the resources necessary to survive. because we have foisted upon them this 'ideal' that isn't necessarily such.

and i don't know how to undo the things of this day and age - globalism, imperialism, colonialism, the industrial revolution, modern agriculture, the industrialization and convenience that are expected, CAPITALISM. these are all parts of the problem. I don't know how you just undo those things—when global economies and markets and trade and existences are intertwined with and dependent on them. decolonization—I have been becoming better acquainted with this term and what it means and what it looks like—both its theoretical implications as well as its material implications. I still cannot fully grasp what that looks like, but I know it is a question I will continue to harbor and to try to understand, and to understand through the lens of my shifting relationship with it. I think I jump to the conclusion that that phrase and mindset connote deconstructing these systems of power that have resulted in the world we have now, or at least the world where colonization is still occurring. and again the whole point of this post is that when I jump to that conclusion I cannot see how it can be done. But seeing this for that end helps me to better understand and work through the metaphysical implications—the racism and discrimination and exploitation and appropriation and marginalization that all play into those greater systems and structures of power. those must be dismantled, too. I don't think it's a chronological timeline, and it is probably not at all linear. i think those two elements are inextricably connected and slowly we must dismantle them piece by piece in what ways we can. we can never accomplish anything to make reparations and to make our world a more equitable and just world for everyone who lives in it, until we acknowledge the bias that is at the heart of its problems and inequities, to acknowledge that the deck is stacked, the dice are loaded, and it is up to us to keep doing the work of undoing and readjusting those things.

again this essay is not an attempt for me to try to tell anyone that I know anything—rather, I am still very much a learner and observer in many of these contexts and conversations. This is simply an attempt for me to try to articulate some of the mental and ethical journey I have been silently undertaking, silently in an attempt to let those marginalized voices to speak for themselves and for me to sit back and take notes and listen (and act).

 . . . . 

capitalism isn't really all that great—it is, overwhelmingly, a system built on exploitation, or if that is a hard pill for you to swallow, it is a system that utilizes exploitation as one of the means to its ends.
the industrial age - child labor and poor working conditions. these things still happen, but now they're simply outsourced. (why I avoid fast fashion and try to be a careful and cautious and conscientious consumer)
the economic basis for modern America had a long-ago reliance on the unpaid labor of enslaved people. Even something so basic as a pair of jeans, iconic American Levi's relates back to those origins of a modern industrial and capitalist America—cotton was a cash crop of the plantation-studded south.

Timothée Chalamet in Lady Bird: "I try to live by barter alone" lol but also yes.

the gospel teaches the law of consecration. lately I have been feeling very in awe of that idea and

King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon, the Nephites at that time. other societies and peoples who lived in a consecrated manner and shared among all. I loved the hofjes in Amsterdam—the poor and widowed lived in small enclaves within a block of canal row homes, and the people who lived in the row homes shared of their substance and living space to care for those in need and without resources.

the good place season 3—the season is essentially about how complicated and hard it is to be a good person!!! this show is so good.

Marie Kondo - highlights much of the metaphysical clamor of capitalism in stark contrast with her Japanese culture and traditions. We are burdened by our things.

all my qualms about home ownership
to some extent perhaps my trepidation is influenced by the time in which I live; I graduated from high school in 2008 and left for college, in the midst of the biggest financial downturn since the Great Depression. I am grateful to have been shielded from the worst effects of it, due to my parents' support as I got off to a good start in college.

home ownership - land ownership - property ownership - to me these are obvious ties to feudalism and many of the systems that have oppressed people of color (through abduction and enslavement) and women (only white male property owners could vote!!! THINK ABOUT THAT FOR A SECOND!). Where I am an 'American' whose ancestors were party to the colonization of this place where I live, I have a lot of qualms. I haven't figured out how to connect these qualms with the reality of my life and the world in which I live, and I haven't the faintest how to do so. And even if I do, is it enough. Would any of it ever be enough for the unspeakable damages and horrors and genocide wreaked on the people who have historically lived in these lands? Maybe I'll just repatriate to one of the places where my ancestors came from—the Netherlands or the British Isles or Germany or Scandinavia. But I know even those places have their own histories of prehistoric peoples who conquered or were conquered; this globe is dotted with histories, a peopled palimpsest.

Forgive me if I'm not jazzed about home ownership when the homeowners in my neighborhood have extremely vitriolic generalizations to make about me and my peers (my generation and me and my peers are not monolithic I might add). Forgive me if I'm not jazzed to have the uncertainties that accompany home ownership—right now my risks are covered under the auto insurance I am legally obligated to have. It's strange, the concept of insurance, but I have been grateful for it many times due to the world in which I live. I wonder if God knew insurance would be a thing. In a way, insurance is how we all opt into [or are required to participate in] a system that takes care of everyone.

The rideshare-crowdsourcing economy is fascinating because it also connects to the internet and shows in small part how power dynamics become more dispersed among the general populace.

I believe in change and hope and decency and goodness. It is often discouraging to me to hear about the few dozen billionaires whose wealth and dollars have shaped our tax laws, our government, and so much of the way that people do business. And it's not something out of which one can easily opt. (opt out). I use commercial airline travel to visit my family across the country. I buy books, some of which are printed with soy ink on sustainably harvested paper fibers, but others that undoubtedly weren't. I click on the ads on Instagram, feed the algorithms, and unwittingly allow my data to drive more of this system I hate. For all that, I try to acknowledge the inequities, and I try to put my money where my mouth is—literally. It takes effort and work, but I believe it is these small pieces of cumulative, collective change that can demonstrate that we know better and demand better, and that we are the ones who are ready to change how the world works (is my naïveté showing? I don't care. I know I'm not alone in feeling how I feel).

I'm lookin' for a mind at work (work!)


My dad grew up about an hour outside of Albany in upstate New York and I spent a significant portion of my childhood romping around the Catskills and Adirondacks—those rolling green hills are as familiar to me as any.

Naturally, three sisters with a Dutch surname, a tradition of summer vacation in upstate New York, and feminist ideals to boot... well, we're shoo-ins for modern-day Schuyler sisters. "Take a Break" is an obvious family favorite from the Hamilton soundtrack and when we were in town for our family reunion last summer, we decided a field trip (and photo shoot—my parents were all for it) was in order.

Eliza Hamilton's portrait on the right
Not pictured: the room and desk where Alexander and Aaron Burr studied for the bar!!

prettiest brickwork and crisscrossing groundcover

Lauren and Schuyler-kitty


The grounds of the site now are much smaller than what they would have been back in the 1700s, but the drawings showing the layout were amazing, as was Philip Schuyler's bookplate ("Take Philip Schuyler, the man is loaded"—as evidenced by their impressive hilltop location and view of the Hudson). The historical society volunteers said the site has been so busy ever since the Broadway hit and they were excited to share this piece and place of local history with us. Who lives, who dies, who tells your story, indeed.

as quaint as can be


A while back, I was looking at something on Google maps in a town close to mine and loved that the tractor driving down the road made it onto the Google maps imagery—an all-too-common sight. I think I should start describing my homeland as 'small-town Iowa, plus trees.'

Go Set a Watchman


No spoilers here, just a quote from the book that still makes me laugh and makes me think and an interesting interview that I came across a while ago with Mary Badham (she plays Scout in the 1962 Academy Award-winning film).
. . . . 

"Maycomb did not have a paved street until 1935, courtesy of F. D. Roosevelt, and even then it was not exactly a street that was paved. For some reason the President decided that a clearing from the front door of the Maycomb Grammar School to the connecting two ruts adjoining the school property was in need of improvement, it was improved accordingly, resulting in skinned knees and cracked crania for the children and a proclamation from the principal that nobody was to play Pop-the-Whip on the pavement. Thus the seeds of states' rights were sown in the hearts of Jean Louise's generation." –Harper Lee, Go Set a Watchman, p. 45
. . . . 


I had come across this interview a while back and while cleaning out my emails today I found the link again (Yahoo News = random/how did I even find this?). I love Mary Badham's level-headed responses and experience/insights—she grew up in the South and was close to both Harper Lee ("Miss Nelle") and Gregory Peck.

"I feel like Miss Nelle is a mirror for us to look in, and we have to look at that reflection and see what it is that we need to really focus on in order to better ourselves. 'Is this really the world we want to live in?' Miss Nelle makes us look at these questions and focus on them and give[s] us the ability to work through these issues—sometimes in funny ways, sometimes in very upsetting ways."

On how Gregory Peck would feel:  "I think he would be understanding of the complexity of human beings. I can't answer for him, but he was so well-read and so knowledgeable about the human persona that he would be able to work through it, I think."

 . . . . 

And I love love love this photo of Gregory Peck and Harper Lee during filming of TKAM (thanks iMDb).

Thoughts? Did you read Watchman? Or did you vow never to do so?

The Rushmore Rush


Last but not least of the South Dakota posts (previously: Badlands and Wind Cave), the reason for the whole trip: Mount Rushmore! We decided nothing would be more patriotic, so we donned our star-spangled, striped, red, white, and blue attire and visited this national monument on the very day of Independence.

I think the magnet I purchased (ironically) at Mount Rushmore says it all: "Shrine of Democracy" (I am still rolling my eyes at that one). Recommended viewing: North by Northwest. Alfred Hitchcock recreated the Black Hills pine-treed setting in a sound studio in LA for some scenes in the movie and after visiting the real deal, it is very impressive and fairly convincing.


I have heard so many people say how disappointing, how small, how underwhelming Mount Rushmore is, but I was surprised by the reality of it! Perhaps the key is to have little to no expectations and the trappings of a great roadtrip, all of which likely contributed to our great reception of the sight. It was fascinating to watch the videos in the Visitors center showing footage and explanations of how the monument was systematically blasted and sculpted—it took from 1927 to 1941! It was especially remarkable, then, to see the Crazy Horse Monument, which has been under construction for years and of which the estimated completion isn't for 100 years! The whole idea of these monuments carved in rock still housed in actual mountains feels a little archaic to me, and doesn't quite jive with my personal philosophies of conservation, but seeing as these decisions have already been made many generations before us, it is fascinating to learn from and see them.


THIS SIGN! The atrocious grammar and weird syntax! That alone is hilarious to me, but I am further baffled by the thought that doesn't this have to go through seven committees or something before it can be designed, printed, and posted!?!? At the site of a national monument no less! I work for the government, and I'm pretty sure that's how most things go, so I find this even funnier because I can't believe no one caught this before it made it to the public eye.


Fireworks, of course, in Rapid City. We found this delightful park and watched from just outside the baseball stadium, continuing our Americana celebration (complete with watermelon for me, because I could not celebrate without that quintessential element of summer).


On our way between the Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse, we passed a picture-perfect lake at a break in the trees. All of us desperately wanted to pull over right then for a swim, but we had a timetable and second car in the group so drove on and stopped on our way back. After a difficult and sketchy change of clothes in the backseat of the car, we jumped in the water. The water was the perfect temperature—cold and refreshing, not too icy if you kept towards the surface and kept moving. Horse Thief Lake was a game changer and definitely a highlight of the trip.


Homemade mcc (mint chocolate chip, for non-aficionado/non-acronym-savvy readers) ice cream in Keystone! (and any chance we can get, if we're being honest).


Once again with the stunning Wyoming skies! We drove through a roiling thunderstorm and the clouds were so dark and ominous when you were in the thick of them. At the time, we were also driving through a construction zone when Sarah England needed a bathroom. Age missed the exit because of the confusing construction routing; as we drove past the last rest stop for quite a while, Sarah looked (genuinely) longingly out the window and with some panic and heartbreak in her voice said and then kept repeating, "Bye bye!" This is probably funnier to the other passengers in the car than other readers, but I was laughing so hard. Gotta love those (delirious) twelve-hour rides in the car.

pop culture confessions

A while ago I shared this opening scene of the film "Les Quatre Cent Coups," a French New Wave film by François Truffaut. Although on the melancholy side, it was one of my favorites that we watched in my French and Italian cinema class [below are several screenshots from the scene in question].


A few days ago I was watching the movie Monte Carlo with my sisters and I realized this scene below (yes this is a terrible quality video-of-a-screen excerpt) very obviously references this opening scene by Truffaut! I'm glad to know Monte Carlo is not lacking entirely in substance as it lends some validity to the guilty pleasure status of such a movie. (They also watch "To Catch a Thief," a Cary Grant and Grace Kelly favorite, during the movie—more bonus points with its allusions to the setting of the film, character/actor's names, and jewel thievery.) That and the one liners are too good (my sister, as I found out, knows them ALL; "Precious cargo!").

(the score track is "Feeling Eiffel" by Michael Giacchino)

(further reading if you're interested: I love this analysis of the scene from Les 400 Coups)

I've been thinking a lot lately about pop culture and the level to which I partake of it. What with the second installment of the Hunger Games movies, "Catching Fire" coming out recently, I've had a number of conversations at work and with friends about those movies and books and others, about who has or hasn't seen or read this or that.

When the first Hunger Games movie was coming out a couple summers ago, I had not read the books merely on principle, merely because everyone else was reading them. Upon learning more about the story and ideas in the books, I realized that was a dumb reason, so I read the first book just as the movie was released in theaters. A couple weeks ago my sister got midnight-showing tickets for the second movie, so I got my act together and spent an afternoon the weekend prior reading the second book. I have not yet read the 3rd book, but I probably will, as I enjoyed the first two as far as young adult literature goes. On an intellectual level, I found the cultural subtexts very interesting, in particular the reference to the ancient use of the Colosseum and the commentary on the modern-day American fascination with reality TV shows.

In thinking about pop culture, I remembered a passage from a book I recently finished reading and went back to reread it:

"[These] are both "memes," to use a term coined by the British zoologist Richard Dawkins in his 1976 book, The Selfish Gene. A meme is simply a unit of memorable cultural information. It can be as small as a tune or metaphor, as big as a philosophy or religious concept. Hell is a meme; so are the Pythagorean theorem, A Hard Day's Night, the wheel, Hamlet, pragmatism, harmony, "Where's the beef?," and of course the notion of the meme itself. Dawkin's theory is that memes are to cultural evolution what genes are to biological evolution. ... Memes are a culture's building blocks, passed down from brain to brain in a Darwinian process that leads, by trial and error, to cultural innovation and progress. The memes that prove themselves best adapted to their "environment"—that is, the ones that are most helpful for people to keep in their brains—are the ones most likely to survive and replicate and become widely regarded as good, true, or beautiful. Culture at any given moment is the "meme pool" in which we all swim—or rather, that swims through us.
"Cultural change occurs when a new meme is introduced and catches on. It might be romanticism or double-entry bookkeeping, chaos theory or Pokémon. (Or the notion of memes itself, which seems to be catching on today.) So where in the world do new memes come from? Sometimes they spring full-blown from the brains of artists or scientists, advertising copywriters or teenagers. Often a process of mutation is involved in the creation of a new meme, in much the same way that mutations occur in the natural environment can lead to useful new genetic traits. Memes can mutate when they get combined in new ways, or when someone working with them makes a mistake—misreading or misinterpreting an old meme in such a way as to yield something new."
—Michael Pollan, The Botany of Desire, p. 148-149

This context, that of the relevance of memes and the role of pop culture as a vital part of our cultural consciousness, puts things in a new light. Certainly there are pop culture fads that are strictly fluff or otherwise deplorable, but many others draw on cultural history to interpret current ideas in a new light and to tie the popular trends in with the classic, persisting ideas that define the human race or a particular nation and cultural identity. As I have discovered lately, creating these kinds of connections between the two brings an additional richness to life, to the quotidian barrage of information, news, and media in the unexpected instances where those connections occur.



(On a similar pop-culture confessions note, I have been listening to JB's Christmas album... I am not ashamed)

gouda + apple

We love the Olympics, Pushing Daisies, and pie. This was another Pushing Daisies-inspired combination and even better than pear with gruyère (although that crust was also amazing). We used this recipe and just switched out cheddar for gouda. Yes, please.

4th of July

Last year I was in Italy for the 4th of July and we celebrated our native country with a BBQ at the church (complete with soggy French fries) and a rendition of "Fifty Nifty United States" by Heather, Michelle, and me. I wore red, white, and blue and at the studio, one of the architects told me she liked my nautical (marinara) colors. Last year was undoubtedly memorable, but it was great celebrating America in America this year.
[we discovered a tire swing walking home from the parade!! I miss this tire swing. nor will I ever forget the time Wade spun me until I was so dizzy I nearly fell off.]

The day was full of time with wonderful friends and exciting festivities which underlined the fact that [excepting stereotypical American tourists] I love America! I'm grateful for the many blessings and opportunities we enjoy in our country.

P.S. 4th of July eve at 7-Eleven. Who are all of these people, you ask? We had no idea. But University Avenue was a madhouse, let me tell you.

9.11


The NYT recognized the ten years that have passed since the attacks on September 11, 2001 with a series of articles, photographs, and other items. "Witness to Apocalypse" is an account of that morning pieced together from oral accounts of New Yorkers recorded shortly after 9/11, before the media coverage tainted their experiences with its own interpretations.

I think for one thing that it is a compelling anthropological look at that day and the people intimately connected with the events. But it's also so inspiring and poignant in its casual, uninhibited prose, the candid and moving words of these people who were there and experienced this firsthand.

(photo source)

squatters

This first photo has been living on my computer desktop for a while (cue title). When I was in Paris, I discovered a store called Monoprix, which I think of as 'the Target of Paris.' I happened across it while I was looking for something else, but I'm glad I wandered in—the store said so much about European and specifically French culture and I loved it. And in the children's section I saw this backpack which I still think is the greatest.

That's right, a backpack disguised as a satchel. Euro children at their classiest.

I obtained this photo from their website, but unfortunately I cannot find the exact link.


[Zara Home in Paris. THIS EXISTS]

Zara, another European store, has a site featuring a collection of photographs of the 50 states, a series called "Dear America," since they just opened their US website.
The photographs are so very dreamy and lovely, and as a whole I love that they reflect different aspects of the fifty nifty [United States].
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