The Memorial Acte

We went to the Memorial ACTe Museum in Pointe-A-Pitre last week. This museum tells the history of slavery in the Caribbean Islands through narration, artifacts and art. Phenomenal place. 

I want to tell you about The Tree of Forgetting  installation I saw there, by Pascale Marthine Tayou.  Here's a photo.  I had never heard of the original Tree of Forgetting's place in history.  I've been reading more about it.  Here's a description:

The Dahomey kings were known to employ magic to help their trades and as such, along the slave trails were left different elements given supernatural powers to help them in their evil business. The first stop along the slave trail of Ouidah contains such an element. Europeans desired slaves whose memory would be wiped clean of any remembrance of their culture, family and homeland. The kings were afraid that, if slaves knew were they came from, they would be able to flee and come back to their lands so a magical tree was used to allegedly make them forget all of that. Men were asked to turn around the tree nine times and women seven, after which it was said the magic of the tree would make them forget all their ties to the land they were pushed away from.    From https://www.youngpioneertours.com/slave-trail-benin/

I doubt anyone fell for this trick, but good try, slavetraders.  

As you know, we're dealing with our own kind of Tree of Forgetting in the here and now, with states passing laws left and right that aim to control what teachers can say about where we come from and where we are together today. Like the slavetraders of yore, these lawmakers and their supporters are fearful of liberty and justice for all. 

Their laws may represent a walk around the tree, but I doubt most of us will fall for these shameful tricks in the long run.   Memorial ACTe is a Site of Conscience.  Our classrooms are also Sites of Conscience.  You should definitely go to this museum if you want to.

The Turtles

 I've seen sea turtles two days in a row, while swimming at Malendure.  

So that's awesome. 

The Humdrum

 Husbandman gave a talk yesterday.  I went to the beach and started reading a new book.  Same old Same old.   Today we're going on a glass bottom boat. 

Polyps at Le Plage

 Husbandman and I swam at St. Anne Beach today.  It's the most beautiful beach I've seen in many a long day.  We floated along, loving life, when suddenly I noticed I had drifted into a shallow area with a lot of seaweed below me.  I used my left hand to push myself into deeper, less sea-weedy waters. 

I regretted this move instantaneously when 3  blistery welts emerged on my wrist, along with a weird stinging sensation. While others would surely have succumbed to panicked weeping in this situation, I remained calm.

Now, hours later, the welts are gone, yet a slight stinging sensation remains.  Through some topnotch internet research, I've discovered I could possibly have Stinging Seaweed Disease. Or I might have been stung by a polyp form of Cnidaria. 

I'm pretty sure it was the Cnidarian polyp and I'm not too happy about it.

I'm mostly better now, so  I'll be heading back to the beach tomorrow. As I've pointed out before here on little leeway, you've got to take the good with the bad.

Le Gosier

 

Last day of school ended with me crying through all the good bye hugs.  This gig is emotional, spending all day with dozens of 3rdLanders for months on end, dealing with their individual and collective ups and downs while teaching them stuff. After the tears, I headed home and collapsed like an out of tune accordion. 

Yesterday started with a Target run to buy a new suitcase.  Packed it up and then caught a flight to Miami.  Stayed overnight at an airport hotel which was one of the worst hotels on the planet. Do not stay there.  This morning we hopped a flight to Pointe-a-Pietre in Guadaloupe.  I finished a book during our flights.  Quick page turner- The Last Thing He Told Me by Laura Dave.  65 weeks on the NYT best seller list, so that's nothing to sneeze at.  I've heard that the mini-series based on the book isn't great.  I like the title of one of Laura Dave's other books: Eight Hundred Grapes. So curious.

We made it to our hotel this afternoon, which is in Le Gosier.  Full disclosure:  We're here because Husbandman's attending a math conference. The hotel is a simple, pleasant place with beautiful views.  Highlights of our day: walking on the beach, swimming in the ocean and in the pool, sitting in beach chairs watching pelicans. 

Get ready for fun times over here at alittleleeway. School's out.

The Star

    

      Today I waited patiently in a doctor’s waiting room.  Playing loudly on the television was an old classic, Bachelor Uncle, starring John Forsythe. 157 episodes of Bachelor Uncle were aired over 5 seasons. The show was cancelled in 1961 and was not part of my after school tv viewing (Bewitched, Gilligan’s Island, I Dream of Genie, Hogan’s Heroes).

      The gender and racist stereotyping in Bachelor Uncle made it difficult to enjoy.  I thought about asking the reception people to turn the channel to a home improvement show, but if you know me, you know that’s not how I roll.  I can tolerate a high level of annoyance.  (Thus my career choice). 

    While the show did not age well, I enjoyed watching a young John Forsythe, who stole my heart during his 9 years on the classic prime time soap opera, Dynasty.  He was the only actor to appear in all 220 episodes. I loved John Forsythe’s suave demeanor, his pompadour hairstyle and his warm, distinctive voice, which you may remember from Charlie’s Angels. 

     Fun fact:  John Forsythe was very involved in thoroughbred racing.  

     Fact of Sadness:  John Forsythe died at age 92 from pneumonia. If you’re near Santa Barbara, California, you can visit John’s grave at Ballard Cemetery. Please bring a small stone.  John Forsythe was Jewish. 

The Sweets

 May Day.  Husbandman and I joined the Morris Dancers downtown this morning to celebrate the Sweets of May.   We took an online class in Morris dancing during the pandemic, but haven't danced with others in real time until today.  So fun to finally join in, circling the Maypole with our bells, sticks and handkerchiefs.  We were nervous at first, worrying that we might not be good enough, but we did alright. Now that we've met the other Morris Dancers, we plan to join their weekly meetup on Wednesday nights. 

Join us if you feel like it.

The Arbor Day

Happy Earth Day, Friends.  And Happy Arbor Day this coming Friday.  

The Department of Natural Resources gives tree seedlings to 3rd graders every year around this time.  They gave us pecan seedlings this year.  There were a few extra seedlings, so I asked if anyone wanted another. They were snatched up quickly. 

I've taken tree seedlings home in past years and never planted them, so I didn't take one. This has actually happened to me more than once and it's a waste of a good seedling.  I told the 3rdLanders that they didn't have to take one if they didn't think their family would plant it.  One 3rdLander declined the pecan tree.  

2 minutes before the end of the day, this character starts crying like a banshee.  "I feel guilty that I didn't take a tree," he wails through his tears.  I couldn't do much for him at that point, but I understood his sentiments exactly.  I too felt some guilt about not taking a tree.  What kind of role model am I?  What kind of steward of the earth? 

I owe you one pecan tree, Earth.  I can buy one at the Arbor Day Foundation for 20 bucks.  Guaranteed to grow. (If planted and watered as needed). 

I could also make a donation to the ADF and call it even steven.

The Book I Read

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata.  

Plot Summary:  Keiko Furukura enjoys working in a convenience store, but people pressure her to blend in with others, so she tries to figure out what she wants to do with her life. 

After reading this "gem of a book," (Ruth Ozeki), I spent my time googling reviews and information about the author. Sayaka Murata has written 9 or 10 books.  Maybe more.  I can't remember. She used to work in a convenience store, so she knows her stuff.  

Don't want to be a downer, but when I read about how she commits to getting her writing done, I start to question if I can really consider myself any kind of writer.  I barely write one blog entry a week. Reading about the ways she takes charge of her writing goals creates a rising sense of hopelessness and self doubt. Still, while I feel judged by Sayaka Murata, I also greatly admire her.

In my research on the themes of the book, I learned about Japan's "aversion to sex" which some have coined "celibacy syndrome." There are four or five reasons for this asexual trend in Japan, but I won't go into them right now.  

I'm also curious about the book's exploration of what it means to pull off "being a 'person,'"  how being human involves absorbing the behaviors and mannerisms of those around us.  From page 26: "Infecting each other ...is how we maintain ourselves as human is what I think."

True or untrue?  We may never know.  We will discuss this question at our upcoming book club meeting, which will be at my house. I'll be ordering sushi. The long and the short of it is this.  Convenience Store Woman is "weird and funny" (Rooney).  You should read it if you feel like it.  

 

The Activities

This yesterday Saturday, I headed in to the compound to get stuff ready for the upcoming week. I  like to go in on Saturdays because a.) I'm the only person there and b.) when I'm done I can enjoy my weekend without thinking about school stuff.  

I started getting a case of stress-sadness in my fifth or sixth hour in empty 3rdLand. Once I get going on school, it's hard to stop.  I never feel like I've finished all I want to do because I never have finished all I want to do. Then I start whining about being at work on the weekend and I plaintively ask myself that age old classic, "Heffernan, why the heck can't you figure out how to do this job so that it doesn't take up so much of your gosh darn life?  I've asked this age old question every day since 1984 when I got my first teaching job in Stockbridge, Georgia.  Let's face it, if I haven't figured it out by now, it's probably not going to happen. But here's the good news:  I plan to teach for 3 more years.  After that, if I'm still alive, weekends will be mine.  Oh yes, they will be mine. In short, there's light at the end of the tunnel.

I went home grouchy in the late afternoon, but Husbandman made me a cup of tea and I read my book on the couch.  Then we went to Comedy Attic and listened to Ashton Womack, a funny man. Today we furthered our seizing of the weekend by walking to the Bart Kaufman baseball stadium on campus. We watched the Hoosiers beat the Iowa Hawkeyes.  After the game, we drove to the movie theater to watch AIR, featuring my two boyfriends, Matt and Ben.  Last, we were home in time to order a pizza and watch another episode of Friday Night Lights.  

In this way I achieved life/work balance and enjoyed a top notch weekend. Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy. I guess I really can have it all. 

 

The Wheelhouse

Photo Credit:  Cynthia

Cynthia's texting of this photo brought on a classic case of “flooding memories” because this plant and I go way back. 

Remember #30 Something’s beautiful wedding to Mr. HL last summer?  I did little to help with this once in a lifetime (we hope) affair, but in my defense, #30 Something had everything pretty much squared away. The one thing the event lacked was centerpieces for the picnic tables. Decorative arts aren’t exactly in my wheelhouse, but I jumped at the chance to prove my worth as mother of the bride.

I headed to the nursery, along with Husbandman and #1 Son. I wanted to take my time, but two other people who shall remain nameless kept hurrying my decision making process. We finally decided to divide the task, each of us going our own way. As is his wont, #1 Son added some challenge to the enterprise, suggesting that we complete the task within four minutes time. Timer on, we hustled off to procure plants for the Wedding of the Summer.

Four minutes later, plants in tow, we headed to the craft store for some burlap and colorful twine, hoping to replicate an image from an internet search.

Come to find out, even simple centerpieces require skills I apparently do not possess. Hours of trial and error produced centerpieces sure to bring down shame on the family. In short, I was concerned.

Ms. Shea came to my rescue and produced a prototype. When paired with a pinwheel and a plastic animal or two, The Shea centerpieces would surely pass muster.

Nearly a year later, this photograph provides evidence that at least one centerpiece plant continues to grow and thrive. I have it on good authority that the marriage is doing great as well.

In terms of Mother of the Bride responsibilities, we did alright.