Going Back

This weekend I return to my hometown--not just to say hello to my dog or sleep in my childhood bed, but to reunite with old friends. After two and a half years of being away (and skulking around the smalltown grocery trying not to be seen on my short visits back), it's the first time I return for this purpose.

I will attend a hometown gathering, a sort of informal high school reunion. A bonfire. Most of the people who will be there are probably people I don't know or care to see.

However, since it is being held in honor of a formerly close friend on leave from the fabulous Armed Forces, I will attend. I will smile, stand around, and leave.

In between, I hope to reach through the crowd swarming around this year-absent man and touch the hem of his garment. Perhaps some small charge of recognition will go out from his clothes, and our malnourished friendship will get up and walk.

But how much going back can one do, really?

Well Endowed

I went to a poetry reading last night at Grand Valley's downtown campus. Two famous poets--Paul Muldoon, an Irish rocker, and Natasha Tretheway, born in the South to parents prohibited to marry in Mississippi--read fantastic poems, told jokes, and shared wisdom.

The highlight?

Refreshments afterward. Open bar (of which I did not partake, but which my classmates enjoyed), assorted cheeses (not just cubes of cheddar and moterrey, but smoked gouda, fresh mozz, and baby swiss), strawberries dipped in dark chocolate, and tiny plates of berries and honey drenched lemon pastry with tiny matching forks.

Here's to big schools with big money: oh, to be well-endowed.

Frozen River

So instead seeing of Hair last night, I ended up going to Frozen River, an indie film about two women who smuggle illegal immigrants into the U.S. from Canada via a river on the border. It was suspenseful, thought-provoking, and somewhat hopeful at the end (although, like all good indie films, it did not wrap up into a neat conclusion). I reccommend seeing it.

One element I thought was most interesting was the comparison of the Native American and United States justice systems. The smugglers, both single mothers seeking desperately to provide for their families, represent an unlikely collision of two worlds: the Mohawk reservation and rural White New York.

Although the women are at first reluctant to work together, in the end they become interdependent and other members of their worlds begin to interact. At the end of the movie, a member of the Mohawk Tribal Council, which confronts crime on the Reservation, meets with the White woman's son, who deceived an elderly Mohawk woman to steal her credit card number. Instead of punishing him (as the U.S. justice system would do, with jail or some sort of fine), the council member acknowledged the teen's circumstances and provided the opportunity for him to meet the woman he had wronged and apologize.

This approach seems to have the same ideological underpinnings as the Restorative Justice model my friend Katherine recently introduced me to.

Behaviorist B.F. Skinner emphasizes that punishment is not the most effective way to change behavior. If that is the case, why do we favor punishment so much in our homes and court systems? Skinner proposes that punishment is rewarding to the punisher.

Retribution may be sweet, but in the end it does not satisfy, and it will not improve society.

Movie on a School Night

Tonight I will study sociology and history, immersing myself in a cultural phenomenon from before my time.

This intense study session will take place at Celebration Cinema, watching the 1979 movie Hair.

Forget my upcoming psychology exam or the poem I have been assigned to write about a one-armed man shoveling snow. Forget that I will not have time to focus on either of these things tomorrow, since all day I will be learning how to deescalate aggressive behaviors in group homes. Forget that I also ditched homework yesterday night to go bowling at The Clique downtown (not that it was for entertainment: I took my Insignis mentee; it was community service, I swear).

My studies can wait for Hair. This is a serious academic endeavor.

You're a Grammar Geek When...

You know you're an official Grammar Geek when you create a tree diagram to display the reduced relative clauses in all eight verses of the song "The Green Grass Grows All Around."

When you bring a guitar to your college grammar class to sing the song to your students--then...well, you're just a geek.

More power to you, Dr. Brooks. I sang along.

Seven Passages Film

Seven Passages: The Stories of Gay Christians debuted last October at Spectrum Theater. The play, written and produced by Calvin College professor Stephanie Sandberg, is based on hundreds of interviews with gay and lesbian people in West Michigan.

This year, Sandberg worked with eight actors to produce a film based on the same interviews. Unfortunately, I missed its screening this month at Celebration Cinema. Although I'd love to see the video, I don't have 30 bucks to throw down for it, which seems to me like an excessive amount for a DVD.

I also watched the trailer and wasn't that enthused. I really think it's meant to be performed onstage. At the Spectrum performance, Sandberg did a great job with the costumes and set, all of which were completely white, very simple. She integrated live video screens, which gave it a documentary feel. She also worked with the words of the scripture passages the play discusses: the projected words sometimes fell directly onto the actors, as if imprinting them. The stage allowed some distance from the actors, and since they rotated through many different characters, it also gave the voices some anonymity. The stories could belong to a friend, a brother, or even yourself.

The play, which is gradually debuting worldwide, has been performed at Western and is slated to appear at Grand Valley this January.

Why I Hate Vacation

Here's another mood recipe for the book:

Lack of routine = dismal mood.

At least for me, anyway. I guess I just can't handle unstructured time. I neither relax nor accomplish anything.

In addition to not having classes, Sr. Kathi was in Denver this week. When she's gone, I miss her presence and her conversation, but even more I miss her organization. She provides the momentum for all the gears of our community life to turn--prayer, meals, recreation... Without her, the Fort is just a hallway where I am coming and going. An amorphous empty space.

Now everything is back in place. Laundry is spinning in the dryer. The Regina Hall front desk is up and running again, and I worked my normal shift today, counting quarters and monitoring vacuum usage. With classes beginning tomorrow, deadlines once again have a motivating effect.

Bring on the 2nd Quad. All is well.