Thoughts from today May 26, 2011

Field trip + sick (thus absent) teaching assistant + absent (attending 5th grade graduation) PE teacher + high school exams in cafeteria until well into regular lunch time + my turn to teach Social Studies = one very full day.  Instead of the almost-2-hours of prep time I often have (some days more), I had about 20 or 25 minutes to do the work of both myself and my TA. Not a bad day but not one of my best!

Cherries straight from the tree taste great.  Not least because you can just spit the pits on the ground instead of trying to politely get something from your mouth to the appropriate receptical in a dining or living room.

Yarn is one of the most wonderful inventions ever. Not only did my students happily knit during 4+ hours of rehearsals for the spring concert last week, they also played a complex game of cat’s cradle on the way to and from the cherry orchard today.

I’ve been blessed quite without merit or petition three times that I can recognize lately (above and beyond things like a nice apartment, a good job, salvation!)  Twice I woke up, wide awake, ahead of my alarm, and was able to fit in things in the morning that I didn’t realize I’d need to before I woke up.  It saved my morning both times!  And yesterday we welcomed a parent who sent a note asking if she could join the cherry-picking expedition, not knowing Arry would be sick today. I can’t imagine what I’d have done without her.

The guitar is amazing: it’s both so simple – hit these six strings, here are 4 chords, you can now play an almost endless list of songs (if you can find them) – and so complex – wiggle this finger in this chord, move that finger in that chord for a moment, you get a whole new and beautiful sound!  I found one video for each of those things today (see my Facebook wall if you want to watch them).  My left hand hurts when I type now but I’m pretty happy.  Only about 5 days of practice so far, a looooong way to go, but I can play (with pauses) three songs and a million more.

Stella’s bored. She meows, then goes looking for trouble. My problem is I like to procrastinate, so I don’t always respond when she meows!  Time to spray her off the top of the AC, where she is chewing on the pull cord for the curtain, then give her some positive attention so we can both sleep tonight.

Of Timing and Four-Letter Words May 18, 2011

*This post is again interspersed with random photos. If I posted about them all I’d never have time to work, but I want to share them!  They are completely unrelated to the actual text of the post. We now return you to your irregularly scheduled blog post.*

Today’s is a tale of timing and four-letter words.

No, not those kinds of four-letter words.

To provide some necessary background, I buy my electricity in advance.  My apartment has been issued with a card that one takes to the electricity office, pays to put money onto, and then inserts into the fuse box downstairs in the correct slot for my apartment, thus depositing the credit into my own power supply.  My apartment in ZZ had this too; the office was just a block up the street, but I had to hurry home a couple of times to get to it before it locked up for the night.  Bankers’ hours and no joke.

 
Two cooking failures: The strawberry cake was wonderful with yogurt on it but would have been just as good without the strawberries, which sank and made the bottom soggy; and the cooking-show-recipe stir-fry wasn’t worth all this prep work as it tasted pretty much like any generic stir-fry I cook in the way Celia taught me.  Live and learn!

Our story begins as I was preparing breakfast this morning.  I was enjoying the sound of a fading storm outside when there was a sound of thunder, and the electricity went off.  “Rats.”  (No, that’s not the four-letter word I mean, it comes later in the story.) I looked out the window and didn’t see any lights on in the neighboring apartment building, so I figured it was the storm and not my own problem.  The oven was already hot but cooling quickly and but it didn’t really toast my English muffin slice. I didn’t want to open the fridge again to get out the natural PB so I had to make do with some generic skippy-type.  Not so yummy, but no harm done.

 

As an aside, I would love to find out from a scientist or chef or anyone else who could explain to me WHY toasting turns rather blah things like English muffins into heavenly breakfasts?  It’s partly the texture, I think – chewing this “raw” breakfast was half the battle, it just didn’t feel right – but some other change seems to take place as well.  Anyone?

 
This man draws chalk images on the pavement to earn a little money.  He was very friendly rather cheerful and I enjoyed talking with him and admiring his art, though he couldn’t tell me the Chinese word for “eagle.” I didn’t determine which country’s flag he was going to fill in under the bird, nor did I ask how he lost his left leg or what he did before, though I do wonder.  At the end he even busted out a little English – “Thank you very much.”  Isn’t it always such a blessing when someone speaks your language to you?  I hope I run across him again.

Back to the story.  I turned off all the lights I could remember leaving on (missed the kitchen, as it turned out!), literally thanked heaven I’d charged the computer when I first woke up that morning – 15 minutes before my alarm and those 15 minutes saved my morning – did a couple of digital chores, transmitting them to school by USB stick rather than internet since it’s too much trouble to go plug the laptop in to the cord when the wireless goes out, and then left for the day.

getting ready to drill!

On my way to school, I learned that the other teachers in my complex had NOT lost their electricity.  Hmm.  A bit worrying.  We are not the only people leaving this early, but we are among the first; could it be that my neighbors’ homes were dark simply because they weren’t awake yet?  The idea that I was out of electricity, earlier so easily dismissed by their dark windows, began to claim a bit of ground.  Still, what were the chances it would happen to run out of money right after a clap of thunder?

   
Miss M, the elementary art teacher, organized this massive event to produce art for the lunch room.  Every student got to help, from pre-K through fifth grade (along with a few high school helpers!)

This afternoon I crammed myself and all my dongxi (stuff) onto the Chinese staff bus after my Chinese class ended in an attempt to get home before 5, check the power, and make it to the office before it closed if necessary.  Indeed, at the foot of the stairs my power box held a glowing red “5.”  That’s the warning – when you’re almost out, the power goes off, and you can stick your card in to start it again, using up those last few credits while you go get more.  If I’d grabbed my card that morning I could have checked on the way out and gone directly from school, but I didn’t even think of it.

 

So now I dumped everything inside my door, picked up my card, and headed out.  On the way, I put the card in the slot to activate those last 5 credits so my fridge could start cooling off again in the meantime.  The 4-digit screen flashed some sort of 4-letter word at me.  I shrugged, then went to catch a cab.

   

It was past 5 when I arrived, but as it turned out (a) they closed at 4:30 anyway, and (b) I’d forgotten that I’d already been told by the DeKonicks that there’s an ATM there that you can simply insert the card into.  Duh, I didn’t need to take that early bus after all.

 

There was a woman using the machine ahead of me, and she was there a long time.  It seemed the machine wasn’t working correctly.  It kept spitting her card back out.  She finally gave up and I tried.  Same problem.  Oh, dear.  We tried asking a nearby guard, but it wasn’t his domain – he didn’t even know which slot to put the card into.  Then another customer drove up.  The woman and I exchanged glances but decided to let him try; who knows?  Who knows, indeed.  We stood there watching him feed hundred after hundred into the machine.  It was working!  My companion in distress quickly asked him why this switch, and he tried her card for her – again, it was spit out.  Mine also was refused.  But he inspected the screen, inserting my card several times in order to get a complete look at a message that would flash when it refused the card.  Apparently I needed to insert my card into my home box once, then return and use the machine.  (My companion’s problem, on the other hand, was that she had brought the wrong card.) Turns out I was there at the right time after all – I’d never have figured that out on my own!

 

Still. Go home, come back, and then go home again? Now might seem a good time for four-letter words, but you’ve probably figured out by now which four-letter words I’m talking about. That’s right. When I found another cab and had him drive me the 1 1/2-circle round trip, the fuse box flashed “9OOd” at me when I inserted my card, and then the ATM was willing to take my card.  I now have power (obviously!) after inserting the newly-charged card to deposit my 400 yuan worth of electricity into my apartment’s account.  It said “9OOd” again when it charged, so I’m safe.  I do wonder what that other four-letter word was that I disregarded earlier, but I’m too paranoid now to put my card in to check.  I’ll just make sure I put a couple hundred on it before I leave for the summer, so I won’t be caught unprepared next time!

 
Enjoying the spring!

(That used to be my strategy, by the way.  It’s just that last time 600 was put on it, which seemed like a ridiculous amount, so I didn’t think it would be running out yet.  I guess 200/month isn’t too bad an average, though.)

 
Teacher’s Day gifts

Maple Oatmeal Bread May 16, 2011

I made this bread spur-of-the-moment Sunday a week ago, and I am in love!  It was perfect, despite the fact that the dregs of my maple syrup had finally gone ’round the bend and I had to toss it.  I’ve adapted the recipe a bit to make up for that fact, and finally caved in to add maple flavoring to my summer spices-and-flavorings shopping list.

Maple Oatmeal Bread
adapted from Country magazine, obviously submitted by someone who lives in Vermont and can spare a huge half cup of liquid gold on a single recipe!

1 cup hot brewed coffee (or instant in my case)
3/4 cup boiling water
1/2 cup maple syrup (or corn syrup, or molasses… I did about 1/4 cup of each)
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 cup old-fashioned oats
1/2 cup sugar
2 tsp salt

2 packages active dry yeast (total 1/2 oz)
1/4 cup warm water (110-115F)

2 eggs, lightly beaten

5 1/2 to 6 cups flour – I used 2 cups bread flour, 2 cups slightly coarse whole wheat, and the rest all-purpose white flour

Combine the first 7 ingredients in a large measuring cup or bowl.  They should be at least as cool as the warm water when you finish mixing them; if not, let them cool a bit.

In a large mixing bowl, dissolve the yeast in the warm water.  Add the wet oat mixture, eggs, and 2 cups of flour.  Mix well.

Stir in enough remaining flour to form a soft dough and knead until smooth and elastic, 6-8 minutes.

Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease the top.  Cover and let rise until doubled, about 1 hour in a warm spot.

Divide dough in half and knead briefly to form 2 loaves.  Place into greased loaf pans, cover, and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes.

Bake at 350F for 40-45 minutes until golden-brown; the bread should sound hollow when you remove one from the pan and knock on the bottom with your knuckle.

Remove from pans and cool on a cooling rack before slicing.  Serve with butter freshly churned by your students, with natural peanut butter and raspberry jam, or with sharp Vermont cheddar cheese melted over it!

Exits and Entrances May 15, 2011

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

Is the world a stage?  Perhaps, perhaps not, but we are living out the most amazing story to be told, and Shakespeare has some nice descriptions in this monologue – I don’t much like Jaques, but I do enjoy reciting this one speech of his.  Lately, life here is full of exits and entrances.

The transient nature of life in a foreign land, in a community of expats, is a big part of what defines it, and especially what defines TCKs. (Third Culture Kids = children whose lives are shaped by spending at least part of their formative years in culture outside theirs or their parents’. I’m an ATCK – A for Adult, though to me it always looks like the word “attack”!)  Knowing that either you will move or many of the people in your life will move, at any time and after any length of stay, and that very little is permanent – it affects your outlook on a lot of things.  I know I didn’t put much into decorating my last apartment, once I got over the effort of unpacking and realized I was only going to live there for 10 or 11 months.   Why spend the time, money, creativity, when I wouldn’t be able to take it with me to the new place?  I have found that my personality is something of a contradiction in that way.  I can procrastinate decorating, unpacking the last few boxes, etc, yet I also try to make my locale as much “home” as possible, be it apartment, dorm room, or house.  I always carefully arrange the kitchen and begin cooking my own meals as early as possible, because to me, cooking is relaxing and “home.” I consciously brought several little touches with me when I first moved to China to hang on the walls, spread on the bed, or set on the kitchen counter.  Some of those might even count as “sacred objects” that TCKs accumulate. (If you’re not up on Third Culture Kid lingo, please read the book! For now: a sacred object is something precious from a time/place of your life that you keep through the years, something permanent in the face of all the transiency.)  Then again, knowing that life here is never completely certain or permanent, and having a home base in my passport country at which to store things, I took the most precious object back there the next summer for safe-keeping.

More than things and places, though, are the people.  TCKs often struggle to make deep connections with people when they know that their friends may be torn away or they themselves uprooted.  Somewhat paradoxically, they also jump right in and get to know people; there’s no time to waste on small-talk and surface issues.  I’ve found both of these to be true in my life to some extent; the latter is also true, I think, of people in a small group with a shared goal, such as summer M trips, internships, the I-moved-to-China-alone-and-so-did-you-so-we-must-be-crazy-in-the-same-way connection, or now with a group that all came here to teach children and love on Chinese and fellow expats.  The shared goal/experience is looser in some ways, tighter in others, but it’s definitely here.

Last year very little changed in our community.  One teacher left for a sister school; several teachers stopped teaching after giving birth to their first child; a few new teachers came to take their places.  I wasn’t particularly close to any who left.  This year is different.  Or perhaps this year is more normal, really.  The contrasting feelings are hard to grasp in my mind simultaneously.

As an example of the goodbyes, two weeks ago I attended a shower for a wonderful woman here who is getting married and beginning a new life in the States.  What a happy event, a gain to balance the loss.  Right around then I also learned that a dear family here will be moving to a sister school in another province, far from us.  I won’t get to teach their oldest boy when he’s in third grade a couple years from now, nor enjoy their comfortable hospitality and conversation, nor likely even invite them over again as the days tick down and they are busy preparing and I am busy finishing the school year.  Those are just two of the goodbyes that I am processing.  Yesterday kicked it into overdrive.

When I woke up, I read an update on a family in the States that just lost a little girl. They have adopted several times from China, and after a very long and difficult paper trail they were preparing to come pick up two beautiful daughters here at the same time.  Then they got a call telling them that little Esther had passed away.  I don’t know them in person, but have been following the mom’s blog, and it is heartbreaking.

As my day continued, I went to a party welcoming home a little boy who was adopted from Africa a month or so ago.  It was my first time to interact with him, and he seems sweet and happy in his new family.

After doing my errands around town, I stopped in at a goodbye party for a couple who are leaving in three weeks, moving back to the States.  While I was there, I held a precious little boy whose welcome party was last week, and watched my newly-one-year-old honorary niece toddle around.

Then I took a note of appreciation to a co-worker.  She is ill and leaving sooner than expected in order to have tests done in another country and begin treatment.  This time of goodbyes and closure is being short-circuited for her, right when she most needs support.  I don’t know how to help her but am glad to see others who are close to her coming around to hold her and lift her up.

The grief of parting, the pain of unanswered questions – Why is she ill? Why did little Esther die?  Will I ever see any of the leaving people again?  And at the same time, the joy of new life and new families.  Just a month ago we were mourning the loss of a boy in our own community, and welcoming another newborn boy that same week.  We are created to handle these events but I really don’t know how.  And how must our Creator feel, loving all, seeing all that goes on, knowing our injuries and victories and sorrows and loves and everything else that happens in our hearts and words and actions?  He is All-Powerful, so he CAN experience these without shutting down, without ceasing to be involved, without turning off his heart to avoid being hurt again.  He also gives me his Spirit, so that I can function as he created me to.  I don’t need to dig a hole and crawl into it; I have his promises of  “strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.”  Now to walk in it.

Two songs for the Wannabes May 9, 2011

I had meant to put these on yesterday’s blog, but forgot.  I’d like to share two songs that connect with the theme of contentment in C, apart from any roles (mother, wife, or single person) one may or may not have.

Yesterday we sang “I’d Rather Have J,” a great old song that I like.  I felt yesterday that the lyrics weren’t quite tailored to me, unless you stretch them a bit – perhaps having “houses or land” could mean having a household to care for?  But it’s still a great song.  To go a bit on a tangent, it also suffers from the same grammatical confusion as the song that first taught me what it was to be picky about grammar.  (Cue a flashback!)

When I was in second or third grade, our elementary put on the musical “Angels Aware!” (which apparently beat Yahoo! to the trick of having an exclamation point as part of the title and making punctuation of surrounding sentences awkward.)  One of the songs was about the Ten Commandments, and has stuck with me through the years – I never learned them by rote from Exodus or Deuteronomy, but I know what they say and in what order because I can still sing that song!  A pair of lines went thus:

Number Seven: Life is heaven when you’re true to your mate.
Number Eight: Don’t steal and break this rule for goodness’ sake!

Makes sense, rhymes, gets the point across, no?  Only my classmates were all singing “Don’t steal OR break this rule…” which makes no sense whatsoever if you stop and think about it.  After all, we’re listing the rules; how much sense would it make to say “Don’t drive drunk or break this rule” (or fill in your own example)?  If the rule IS not to steal, there should be an “and,” and if the rule ISN’T to not steal, why on earth are you telling them not to steal, instead of telling them what the mysterious rule is that we aren’t supposed to break? It drove me crazy because I couldn’t make them see the importance of not singing nonsense and correcting it once they’d all learned it incorrectly.  Ah, young Lily, get used to it – life is full of people who don’t think grammar is as important as you believe it to be!

End flash back… this song has a line like that too – going on the theme of “I’d rather have J,” the chorus begins “Than to be the king of a vast domain,/ Or be held in sin’s dread sway.”  Okay, that COULD be the line, but it seems to me what the writer is trying to say is “I’d rather be poor and powerless on the earth and have J than be rich and powerful AND caught in sin.”  Doesn’t that make a better contrast?  Otherwise it seems to imply that two without-J options are (a)be a king (without sin?) or (b) be sinful, which isn’t quite accurate.  Okay, end grammar lesson!

The other song, which has been special to me for a while and also meets my other “think about what you sing” rule of actually being sung TO J, not just ABOUT Him, is “Enough.”

“All of you is more than enough for all of me,
For every thirst and every need.
You satisfy me with your love,
‘Cause all I have in you is more than enough.”

It is so true, whether sung with conviction or with faith that feels weak.  May that be true for you today as well.

One of the Wannabes May 8, 2011

Well, it’s Mother’s Day, and this entry IS about motherhood, but it’s not about my Mom. (Sorry, Mom! I do love you so very much!)

Today at fellowship there was an insert in the usual printed matter, between song titles, announcements, and the passages of the day.  It was a print-out of a six-paragraph blog entry by Wendy Alsup titled “For Moms, Former Moms, and Wannabe Moms.”  I started reading it there but half-way through I realized that it was going to hit home for me, so I saved it until I would have time to process it alone.

I am still chewing on what she wrote (well, it’s been less than an hour since I finished reading it!), but I wanted to share it with everyone else while it’s still Mother’s Day here as well as in the West.

There were too many good lines for me to pick just one or two – believe me, I tried! I ended up wanting to quote the whole first four paragraphs – so I really encourage you to click over and read it.

Back?  OK. One facet of it that really hit home for me was her statement that “In heaven, you will have no longing for something you missed.  You will not be disappointed. May confidence in that hope sustain you.”  That is true.  I have known it is true for years. It is true about all things, not just being a mother, whether they be big things (being a wife, seeing the world) or small things (watching a great new TV show, reading all of your favorite author’s books, getting to the perfect weight).  I am convicted to keep checking my thoughts and actions to see if they line up with that confidence I am supposed to have but don’t always feel.  In heaven, I won’t care that I didn’t read this great new novel the library got!  A daily struggle over how I use my time.  That’s a total tangent from what the article was about, but it’s a powerful truth on so many levels.  And it always reminds me of what C. S. Lewis wrote about chocolate in his book Miracles

Another facet that got to me was the way she said, “While you are disappointed in deep ways and that disappointment is real, you will one day sit with J. in heaven profoundly content with his work in you through this disappointment.”  I have not yet anywhere near given up hope of having children, but to acknowledge that it is a possibility… wow. And then the point, that He will work in and through me for His glory, not just “no matter the circumstance” (ie “oh it’s so terrible but somehow he’ll make something good from all the badness”) but specifically in such a disappointment or during such a period of longing… Yeah, just go read the whole article.  She is so wonderfully tender in the way she writes and I wish every woman could read it, no matter their current mom-status.

One of these days, I have got to read Balzak May 1, 2011

(This post is randomly interspersed with photos from the last couple of weeks. Because I felt like it.)

Back in the 90′s, I listened to records – yes, records, and in fact I miss them somewhat, much though I love the transportability of digital music – and one of the records I listened to the most was the movie-cast recording of “The Music Man” soundtrack. It was special because Mom and Dad were both in the play (at different times) when they were single, and special because I enjoyed most & loved several of the songs.  I also claimed (complained) that it had the most love songs of any movie I knew.  A few weeks ago I finally bought the soundtrack digitally, though all I could find was the Broadway-cast  version, so of course it isn’t the exact nuances and voices that I grew up singing along with *sigh* BUT it’s very good.

 
weather at twilight; cherry blossoms

Several things have been going through my head today that tie in somewhat with the songs from “The Music Man,” so I thought I’d do a themed post here about it.

   

A list produced by my class; A beautiful full moon plays with the clouds

My favorite thing about the “Music Man” soundtrack is probably the barbershop music.  I think that was the main reason I finally caved and bought it – to have some good recordings of “Lida Rose,” “Sincere,” and “Goodnight Ladies” (and the Broadway version has one more song!!!) I really love barbershop music.  This is no doubt mostly to my father’s credit, since he loves it too and introduced me to it as a child.  I only remember three times of hearing it live, Lake Winnipesaukee, at a park somewhere in Virginia Beach, and at Hong Kong Disneyland, so it’s precious.  I’ve hunted down a few YouTube videos – this one and this one, two parts of one performance, are particular favorites of mine – but the quality just can’t compare with live shows or at least good studio recordings.

 
Cookies make funny shapes when they start to melt in the oven! And did you know that orange zest can eat holes through a plastic yogurt cup?

All of that said, there was a women’s barbershop group at the show Dad and I went to in VB.  I only remember the main line of the refrain, “I’m a Renaissance woman in a Diet Coke world.”  The main theme being, I am wide and curvy, and thus would be more valued in the 1500s, when such a figure was desirable in a woman, rather than today’s world, in which skinny-yet-still-hugely-curvy is the image practically painted on the inside of our eyelids. (Or at least that’s how I interpret it.)  The idea of being a woman of that era resonates with me, not just the figure but also the expectation that went with womanhood then: bearing a bunch of kids, running a household, and teaching the kids both to love God and how to read, write, etc, at home.  Of course, I can’t use that as an excuse to not take care of my body, nor would I probably like the lack of indoor plumbing, air conditioning, recorded music, and mass market paperbacks.  But our I find the lies of our culture hard to get out of my skull.  Sure, I *know* the truth – that it’s what inside that counts, that we should take good care of our bodies but the way we’re built or current state of them doesn’t lower or raise our value as a person, that everyone deserves love and is loved by God.  But then I catch thoughts lurking in myself when I try to lose weight – “Maybe after I lose 20 pounds, then I’ll get married!” – or celebrate a friend’s wedding – “What does it say that the slimmest single woman I know here is the one getting married? Are some of those lies true?” – and I have to literally take the thought captive and force it into alignment with the Truth. Paul was not kidding, it’s a battle, and the enemy sneaks in and sets up camp and then suddenly springs up in opposition to what you know is true!

 
willing volunteers… until they see what the “wolves” will do to them!

 
“Let’s all back up now… a lot!”

“The Sadder But Wiser Girl.” I caught myself singing that song today and had to stop myself – several times – by singing a praise song.  No, I don’t pray for Hester to win just one more “A.”  As an aside, I remember the first time I finally “got” that reference, after reading The Scarlet Letter in eleventh grade, and the large number of times I heard it before that reassures me a bit that I can show such movies to my kids and they won’t automatically know what he’s singing about. (Well, I did have a pretty good idea what it was about before I was 16, but you know, not all at once and not when I was 9, or 6, or whenever I first heard it.)  On the other hand, the fact that I still catch myself singing a song about preferring sexually experienced and disgraced women, despite knowing full well what he’s singing about, is probably just as strong an argument to NOT expose my own children to it.

 
A palace created on the living room floor

“You’ll find it in Balzak.”  Yeah, it’s fun to get literary references. This one, of course, I still don’t understand (see post title), but others (such as Hester) I do get.  Are the special feeling of inclusion you get, and the wider range of pre-explained scenarios, feelings, characters, etc, available to writers and speakers, reason enough to keep teaching these books in schools?  Probably not (there are better reasons), but for me they are!    They also explain why it takes so long to really be fluent in a new homeland – you not only have to learn the meanings of words, you have to learn what on earth they’re referring to.  For a very good illustration of this, watch the “Star Trek: the Next Generation” episode titled “Darmok.”

  
“When are you going to stop quilting and play with me?”

“Goodnight, My Someone.” This was my favorite song when I was just beginning to be romantic. I still like it, though I don’t sing it very often – I figure praying for my someone is more effective, but sometimes a song still expresses my feelings best and I suppose the Father understands.

     
Easter brunch (also the one below)

Okay, this next one is a small story that I’m only just now able to tell (I am SO easily embarrassed, and awkward around guys! I can celebrate getting older with the fact that some stories are finally passing the statute of limitations on making me want to melt into the earth… at least when I’m only typing and not talking face-to-face!)

“Being in Love” – So, my favorite PART of a song, starting sometime later in my teens, was the little piece in this song that goes thus:

“All I want is a plain man
All I want is a modest man
A quiet man, a gentle man
A straightforward and honest man
to sit with me
In a cottage
Somewhere in the state of Iowa.
And I would like him to be
More interested in me
Than he is in himself
And more interested in us
Than in me. (* here I insert some thought about how her priorities aren’t QUITE straight)
And if occasionally he’d ponder
What made Shakespeare and Beethoven great,
Him I could love till I die.
Him I could love till I die.“

(One good reason to hold out for the movie soundtrack is that it has this piece nestled in the song “Being in Love,” which is sweet and funny, while the Broadway version has it in the middle of a prayer to Aphrodite titled “My White Knight,” which is lousy.)

      At lunch

So, to the story: I was hiking in the mountains – OK, foothills – of LA with three friends: my roommate Trisha, and two brothers, all four of us college seniors studying film-making there for the semester.  We were talking about this and that as we went, and the conversation took a literary bent, and one or both of the brothers said something quite witty or insightful about Shakespeare, and I instantly thought of that song. NOT that I wanted to love that particular man till I expired (totally awesome though they both were), just that it was the first time I’d spotted a perfect example of “And if occasionally he’d ponder….”  So I asked Trisha, “Have you seen ‘The Music Man’?” And the brothers replied, “Yeah, we were in that play in high school.” And I instantly changed the subject and hoped like mad they didn’t connect it to what we’d just been talking about, because of course, awkward being that I am, I could not (and still cannot) face the idea of saying something along the lines of, “Oh, because your conversation just reminded me of the main character’s description of the perfect man, which I happen to rather agree with, and isn’t that funny?” to any single male not related to me.

So, those were a few of my thoughts and memories this afternoon.  What musicals are powerful memory-holders for you?