Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Super bowl commercials and "Vaxxing"

For those of you unable to access the internet, social media, and therefore not reading this, nothing...

To the rest of you, I WANNA GO BACK TO FUNNY SUPER BOWL COMMERCIALS.

Also, I was in charge of the food stuffs during the Super Bowl, and I am officially firing myself. We had pretzels and soup. Not even a decent chili. It was like if taco soup and brunswick stew got married and had a really boring kid who only wore pressed khakis and never spilled his drink. I mean, it was nice, but not really Super.

Also, there was no dessert.

And then the Nationwide commercial came on.

Obviously I was already feeling tender in my near junk-food-less state, and then the beautiful curly, mop-headed boy FREAKING DIED.

Can I just make a bid here for some Bud-WISE-errrrr frogs or something?

Would that be too hard?

But here is where this Public-Health-Minded, Duke RN, preacher's wife, crazy foolish writer person has to say something Inflammatory and (for some mysterious and insane reason) Controversial.

Accidental death is the number one killer of children under age six in the US (thanks Nationwide).

Do you know why?

Because childhood diseases have had been nearly eradicated by vaccinations. We live in an era when children won't die of diphtheria or measles or be deformed by polio. Our children will most likely never have worms or rickets. Their teeth won't rot. In this light, public health has performed a miracle in the past one hundred years.

So, yes, accidental death is the number one killer of children in America--because childhood diseases aren't. For now.


Saturday, January 31, 2015

Suspense

Ball game tied.  Two minutes left. 

Rusty haired child standing elbows on knees, peeking through a veil of suspense. His game was this morning. He knows the rush of success and the hollowness of misstep. He watches, tongue pinioned, fingers splayed on the floor. The bumps of his child frame show through his own game shirt, smeared with dirt from an afternoon in the yard. His breath hisses and squeaks in time with the squeaks of the blue shoes. He is held safely between the knees and arms of his dad who leans over him in paired tension. Two strings tuned to different octaves. 

He is safe now--his world bounded by the shot clock and a tied score. We can keep him safe tonight.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Thunderstruck

How in brunch did I not know that a portmanteau was a mash up of two words and not a suitcase?

In light of this I have decided that I can no longer in good faith call myself a burgeoning word-smith and I will now take up French origami.

Thank you.


Why do we like things?

There are things we like.

We.

The larger collective. Things that last. Classics.  Things that Last. Books you want people to notice you are reading. But why?

Why do we like things?

Why this one and not that one?

I used to sit in halls of the music building talking with my friends. We would learn something on Monday and Tuesday it would be our most ardent passion. Bach's Goldberg Variations? the complexity! Bartok's work in ethnomusicology? seminal! I dream of doing similar work with the folk