More on hunger

17 March 2009 | 2 Comments

In the early 80′s, I saw my first Will Work for Food sign. I was riding in the back of a car; conversation was going on in the front seat, and no one else noticed. I was so horrified I couldn’t speak.

I had been “hungry.” I spent a month living on nothing but potatoes and bread; I took 248 pennies into Burger King for my single meal of the day one time; my friend Ronnie, who worked in the university cafeteria, used to give me breakfast for free on the sly when she could get away with it. But I’d never been in a place where I imagined standing out on the street with a sign like that.

When I was younger, wandering men who would work for food (whom we called hobos in the South, as opposed to tramps who stole or begged for money) turned up sometimes on our doorstep. They would ask my mother for work, and she would always say we had none (that was a lie, but she was a woman alone with a child and didn’t want strange men around the place). But she would always offer them food, and they would always accept. She had them sit on the front porch steps, and she took out to them a plate with a peanut butter sandwich, or a baloney sandwich if we had it, and a big glass of milk. They would say thank you, and eat the food, and bring the plate back to the front door when they were done. One time, I answered the door to take the plate, and the man said to me, Your mother is a good woman. And then picked up his things and went away, knowing that however good we might be, there was no more help for him here.

I don’t give money on the street, but I buy food for people who are begging for money. I’m ashamed that it took me a few experiences of this to remember to ask what they would like to eat, as opposed to just deciding. These people are mostly men, and some of them are bugnut crazy, and some of them are sad, and some of them are wary; but they always say thank you, and they always eat the food.

The thing is, I’m pretty sure that buying meals like this, and donating food to the food bank, is the limit of my help. And most of us have limits. It’s good to help other people when we can, and it’s everyone’s right to draw boundaries on how much energy they give to strangers. And it’s easier to intervene on an individual, situational level. It’s a lot easier to buy fried chicken and a cup of coffee and a bottle of water for a guy on the sidewalk than it is to fix hunger problems in my city.

Or so I thought, until I came across the article I posted yesterday about ending hunger. I’m still thinking about it. If you haven’t read it, please do. I’ve been trying for a couple of hours to find the right person in Seattle city government to send it to, but the city’s website is broken (hah, isn’t that just perfect?). Perhaps you can forward the article link to someone in your local government. Because it would be great if people on the street didn’t have to depend on people like me, who only help to the extent of the next meal. Maybe “will work for food” should mean that we will work to feed each other, instead of assuming that we should all just feed ourselves.

I don’t often believe in system solutions, because I often think they don’t work and sometimes even make things worse. But it makes sense to me that local governments should put systems in place to see that people don’t starve. I would much rather have a food system than a brand new sports stadium, for example. But hey, that’s just me.

What do you think about boundaries, about helping, about system solutions versus individual interventions?

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog

Yes, we can end hunger

16 March 2009 | 3 Comments

I hope someone in the Obama administration is aware of this story about a city in Brazil that is successfully fighting hunger (thanks to Jeremy for the link).

This is one of the grand things about human beings, this urge we sometimes have to help each other, in small ways and large. And to learn from each other how to make things better. It’s not just about changing process, it’s about changing perspective.

Edited 21 March to add: Thanks to Steve for this additional article on Belo Horizonte’s anti-hunger programs.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under being human, blog

The Haunting

15 March 2009 | 3 Comments

Busy day, and so although there are things to say and stories to share, today, as they say, I got nuthin’. But since I have written before of Shirley Jackson, and since so many high school students find their way here looking for essay content, I thought I would give you this — a few minutes of Act 1 of The Haunting, the 1963 Robert Wise movie based on The Haunting of Hill House.

This clip begins about 8 or 9 minutes into the movie, after Eleanor (Nell) has been invited to come to Hill House to participate in a paranormal study.

The book, and this movie, have long fascinated me. Eleanor’s overwhelming need to escape is so finely balanced against her clear instinct for good and evil, for what is good or not good for her. And yet, knowing that Hill House is not good for her, she enters into it with only minimal hesitation, with a subterranean lightness of being. There’s a sense of power and freedom in crossing the line of no return… and of course that’s where the horror always comes from, the final realization that what we thought was freedom was just a better trap. It’s subtle and brilliant stuff, both in prose and in film.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, movies, writing

A brilliant horizon

14 March 2009 | 3 Comments

Several staff writers for @U2 (still the biggest and best U2 fan website on the planet) recently reviewed the new album, No Line on the Horizon.

Love, love, love.

I’ll be writing my next “Like A Song” essay about “Breathe” in mid-May. But for now, here’s my review; I invite you to read the other staff responses, and give the album a listen. Chances are I’m listening to it too.

Enjoy.

It’s a brilliant album.

I am a U2 fan, but I’m not an automatic fan of all things U2. I haven’t listened to a single track from How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb since the Vertigo tour. I am lukewarm about All That You Can’t Leave Behind — I love some of the songs there, but as an album it feels uneven to me, disconnected from itself and certainly disconnected from me. And so I’ve been worried.

And here I am, back again in the church of U2, mad in love with No Line On The Horizon.

It reminds me structurally of War — an album in two parts that takes me on a single, spiraling journey to a place that I can only describe as “deep inside.” Deep inside U2, who are in my opinion truly stretching themselves musically for the first time since Pop, and finally — finally! — back to making deeply personal music that is also sometimes political, as opposed to tub-thumping numbers or the horror that is “Window in the Skies.” And deep inside myself, too; these are songs I can connect with, soar with, cry to, move to. Songs I can love.

The base of the music is what I love best about U2: the strength and grace of the bass and drums, the guitar like soul in flight, the voice that is someone’s heart turned into sound. And from this base, the album climbs into places like “Breathe” and “Cedars of Lebanon” that literally take my breath away. I’ve never been so astonished by the ending of an album before.

It’s good to be in love again. It’s brilliant.

click here if you can’t see the player

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, music

Friday pint

13 March 2009 | 4 Comments

Every week I transfer posts here from the Virtual Pint archives.

On the InterWeb where time is flexible, we have nearly reached the end of 2006. That means there are only a couple more weeks of Friday pints before we are magically back in real time (whatever that means in the virtual world…)

Never (November 2006) — It’s a big word, one I don’t use often. But I mean it here.

More naked (November 2006) — The continuing conversation on where the writer is, and isn’t, in the work.

The conversation (December 2006) — Nearly 21 years of talking, so far. I hope for another 50 or 60 at least.

Enjoy your Friday.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, friday pint

Slow buzz

12 March 2009 | 5 Comments

I just heard a tock against my window and looked up to see a bumblebee…well, bumbling, that’s what they do. It tapped the glass and dirigibled off.

I’m learning that if I keep my eyes and ears open, and especially my heart, spring comes to me in ways that are unexpected both in form and in timing.

Do you hear that gentle buzzing sound?

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog

Dangerous wordle

12 March 2009 | 3 Comments

It’s “the writers discover Wordle” day in our house. While Nicola was teasing the world with her new book, I was busy uploading the entire 25,000 words of “Dangerous Space” to see what I’d get…

(click on it, it gets big)

Wordle is fascinating in the way that one can manipulate the presentation of the word cloud — which can greatly change the impact, the meaning, the “story” behind it. I went through about 4 or 5 iterations of font, color scheme, layout that didn’t inspire any response in me. And then found this one and thought This is it. The way that the smaller words fit inside the letters of Duncan’s name, the way that random positioning of two words close together takes on a meaning of its own… so interesting to see the story in this way.

Wordle will do this for any text or url. Go on over, have fun.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, writing

Wilhelm and Murdoch

11 March 2009 | 1 Comment

[Kelley's note: I'm combining two questions into a single response here. ]

I know Kate Wilhelm was a co-founder of Clarion, but I know her best as a prolific and wonderful writer. I have read all of her stories about Charlie Meikeljon and Constance Leidl, some of her science fiction, and the novel Death Qualified, which is based on chaos theory. I know you have probably read her stuff.

And have you ever read anything by Iris Murdoch? I discovered her work by reading her biography by Peter Conradi. She mingles her peculiar perspective of fantasy with hard reality in a way I really enjoy. Readers love her because she wrote a lot of books, some better than others.

Please tell me what you think. Thanks.

Barbara

Kate was one of our instructors at Clarion ’88 — the one whose presence most excited me going in, the one I most wanted to like my work. I looked up to her.

So you may imagine that I was like a bunny in the headlights walking into the private conference with her and Damon. And there Kate told me, “You’re a writer.” I still remember how that made me felt.

She also taught me a lot about how editors (and, it turns out, screenplay readers) approach submissions: when she critiqued our Clarion stories, she drew a red line at the place where she disengaged from the story for whatever reason. A lot of those red lines were on the first page…

So yes, I’ve read her work (grin). I highly recommend the Constance and Charlie stories — wonderful characters, and I love the elements of sf and mysticism behind the mainstream mystery murder setups. I also very much like Death Qualified for that same approach.

And I love that her characters are grownups. Charlie and Constance are in their 50′s, I believe, and they are smart, capable, in love, truly married (with all the understanding and empathy and head-shaking not-again frustration of long and successful relationships), funny… characters whose stories always end too early for me, because I like spending time with them. That’s one of Kate’s real strengths as a writer, in my opinion — both in her series books and her standalones.

Have you read her collection of novellas Listen Listen? Absolutely fantastic. There’s one of my favorite Charlie and Constance stories (“With Thimbles, with Forks, and Hope”) plus the fabulous story “The Winter Beach.”

Here’s her bibliography. Start anywhere, they’re all good.

Iris Murdoch — wow, you caught me off guard with this. I read some of her work many years ago, so long that I can’t remember titles or details. I wish I had something intelligent to say about her, but instead I will thank you for bringing her back onto my radar. I will definitely read something — can you recommend a book to begin with?

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, reading

First Lady crush

10 March 2009 | 14 Comments

CNN reporter Jack Cafferty has a crush on Michelle Obama.

Me too.

Not an art crush (where I wish passionately to work with some amazing actor or musician or artist or writer, or to witness their process up close). Not a mad-sex crush (I’m sure I don’t have to explain that kind to you). It’s a friend-crush — I think Michelle Obama would be totally cool to hang out with. And definitely a First Lady-crush. I have never had a FL that I could look up to in this way. Not even Hillary, although I admire her extremely, did such a fantastic job of carving out her own distinctive space so quickly. Maybe it’s because I have always seen the Clintons as a political team, and I see the Obamas as a married couple both in highly influential political roles.

I do know that Michelle Obama is as much of a role model as her husband, and that she’s going to influence a lot of young (and not-so-young) lives by being smart, savvy, energetic, empathetic, engaged with people around her. By being a strong woman whose First Lady leadership puts a human face on her husband’s presidency.

And she has great biceps. Maybe I have a gym-crush…

Whatever it is, I think she’s fantastic, and she’s on my party list for sure. The President can come too (grin).

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog

When you think about it…

9 March 2009 | 12 Comments

… writing really is kind of like a passionate romance, and writers (even the married ones) are serial flingsters. (Except for those wanton multi-project floozy writers out there. You know who you are). Story, novel, screenplay, it doesn’t matter — it always starts with those lingering glances exchanged across a crowded brain with an irresistible character. Or more than one (oooh, those crazy pantextual writers). And before you know it, there you go again, slipping away from your sweetie to rendezvous with the story. Oh, by the way, I started working on something today…

And then the fun really begins.

I will let Maggie Stiefvater explain this part to you, because she does it so well. If you are a writer, this will help you explain the daily drama to all the people who look at you funny when you’re working. If you’re a person who thinks Someday I’ll write that novel, well…. the thing is, writing is like romance. If you fall hard, no one can talk you out of it. Just don’t fool yourself into thinking it’ll be any different for you.

Enjoy your Monday.

Posted by Kelley | Filed Under blog, writing

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