LOS ANGELES REVIEW OF BOOKS | Even as Everything Melts

LOS ANGELES REVIEW OF BOOKS | Even as Everything Melts

Jonathan Foltz on Malcolm Turvey’s history of avant-garde film in the 1920s.

The Grass is Greener

Over the rainbow. One day my ship will come in. The sun will come out tomorrow. You can't get there from here. We gotta get out of this place.

You get the idea. Any more to add?

So the Gray Lady had this story last weekend about the Hudson Valley being the new Williamsburg. Yeah, you probably read it and rolled your eyes. Me too. And yet... Memories of my time at Bard come back as I imagine that Lynchian vibe to the industrial decay in Hudson, the creepy woods, the expansive view from Blithewood...I'm swept away imaging a little house in the Victorian section of Kingston, the little shops, driving on 9...and of course the brutal winters, the mosquitoes, the actual lack of jobs...

So that leaves me back in lovely Brooklyn. Why yearn when I'm here in a neighborhood so sought-after that it is deservedly derided? Is it just human nature? My nature? Have the last few years just been what life is like when you're raising a small child? Is it too much to want urban living with a house and yard?

Which just brings me back to cliches. You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes...

Well, at least now I have a good song in my head...

The Acronym That Broke the Camel's Back

Over the past year+ I've learned, and even become conversant in, a long list of special needs and education acronyms. SN, SPD, ASD, OHI, OT, PT, IEP, CSE, CPSE, BOE, G&T, GT&E, NEST, ICT, CTT, SEIT, SETTS, OSIS...and then add in some numbers for good measure: 15:1:2, 12:1:2 and D15, PS 10, 230, 39, 395, 15, 32, 154...


I've learned all of these out of necessity in order to communicate effectively with my son's teachers, caregivers, education professionals, and other parents. Some I've learned even if they don't directly apply to us (ADHD, PPD-NOS...).


I've tried to keep all of this in perspective. Amused when an email to a parent coordinator has looked more like a recipe for a chemical compound rather than anything resembling conversation.


And yet there is one piece of paper, an FNR, that is proving to be so elusive, so ridiculously difficult to obtain that I fear I may BOMF*.


It's a simple piece of paper, just the name of school, the child's name, info, classification and services needed. A 'Final Notice of Recommendation.'


I was a lucky parent and had the IEP meeting for Fall 2011 in April. No school placement, but we had an idea of what we were looking for and how to get it.


[Note: I am skipping over volumes of painstaking detail here. You're welcome.]


In June we reconvened and at that time we were able to pull everything together. The school we wanted was going to have a seat for my son. All they needed was this FNR to complete his registration. Somewhere between the case worker/district rep and the district placement officer's desk there was a communication breakdown prompted by a new software system. The FNR arrived on the mail, but it had the old classification from the April IEP. This change required a trip to the BOE district office (not my first). But they of course said it wasn't them, it was the case worker. Called her. She pushed the 'final' button she needed to push. It took days for the central system to see that keystroke. Calls, emails to the DPO (see, it's hard not to do) with assurances they'd mail it to me – they could see the change finalized in the system and it was just a matter of printing it out and putting it in an envelope. And no, I couldn't come down to the office to get a copy. Since then (yes, the end of June), I have been assured several times that it was 'in the mail' and yet it has not arrived. I've even tried to have it faxed but in a cruel twist of technology the fax came to my office illegible. Luckily the school has taken the incorrect FNR as a placeholder. But they will need the corrected one before school starts in September.


Yes, I will be heading back to the BOE DPO office ASAP to get the FNR which confirms my DS IEP of OHI with CTT and OT for PS10. And then I will need a DRINK.


*See Star Wars, Episode I: Pavilion Movie Theater, May 1999.

Polytheism and the 4 Year Old

Jax is at an age when he is starting to ponder some deep issues. Mortality. Religion. Why adding the word "poop" to a sentence isn't funny to adults but it makes his friends howl with laughter. Big, big thoughts.

On a recent trip to the Brooklyn Museum I was able to see all of this in action. We were meeting friends to see the Vishnu exhibit (highly recommend).

Before our friends arrived we checked out the installation Jax dubbed "The Giant Jellyfish." Then on to the Mummy Chamber (another fantastic exhibit).

Jax loves Ancient Egypt and we spent much time looking for depictions of Anubis and Sobek, his favorite Egyptian deities. Abubis was easy to spot on many of the sarcophagi, which delighted our little archeologist. But the actual mummies were a bit intense for him -- or maybe just the x-rays of the wrapped bodies were. At least they had canopic jars: he loves canopic jars. I mean, who doesn't? Jars to store your organs in, each guarded by an animal-headed god? What a lovely way of organizing yourself for the afterlife. There's a touch of Martha Stewart to it.

We talked about tomb raiding, The Book of the Dead, our recently deceased cat and his cremation, Sobek's link to Ra and the creation of the world. You know, typical four year-old talk. Jax is an experienced museum-goer (an NYC kid thing?) and we calmly strolled through the rooms, remarking on different pieces. He's drawn to statuary, so we veered that way more often than not. (Is that why he likes action figures, or is it the other way around?)


Word arrived via text that our friends had arrived and were already enjoying the Vishnu exhibit, so we headed upstairs to meet them. My friend and her family are Hindu and Jax was looking forward to asking about Ganesha, whom he had recently discovered but knew very little about. But once we arrived he became both shy (hiding behind my skirts) and louder (all the better to impress the other boys). My friend was looking at the series on Varaha, Vishnu's third avatar, and discussing with her sister the similar elements of the story with that of Noah's Ark. Jax was transfixed. He loved the boar's tusks holding up the world, the idea of a cosmic ocean. He and my friend's son talked quietly together over some aspect of the story, looking like little scholars as they inclined their heads towards first this painting, then that scroll. Then I think Jax said something about poop and they dissolved into giggles. 


When it was time to pick our avatar at the interactive welcome station (we did that part backwards), Jax was insistent that he get Varaha. I got Buddha (the 9th or 24th avatar, depending on the tradition). Then we headed to the gift shop (a highlight of every visit) and Jax immediately gravitated to the books of Sanjay Patel on display. I liked the one on the Hindu deities, in the same style of his avatar art in the exhibit, but Jax wanted to read the more intense Ramayana. I realized, while watching him absorbing these 'new' gods that he has been raised completely polytheisticly. He seems to gravitate to it, and to him the Ancient Greek and Roman myths are the same as Green Lantern's origin story; Ahuizotl, the Hydra, and Animal-Vegetable-Mineral-Man are all a part of his world. The love of the big story, the archetype, the colorful characters. I was thinking about the diversity of his experience, quite proud of him as we got ready to go.   


Then as we passed through the museum's beautiful Beaux-Arts Court on our way out (seriously, can someone get me invited to an event in that space?), we came upon the European Collection, with many Christian-themed paintings. Passing by a very striking Golgatha canvas, Jax turned to me and said, "Mom, who's that guy?" 

Varaha art courtesy of Brooklyn Museum and artist Sanjay Patel.

Tropismes

* * *

First you see the puppy. Floppy, fluffy: young. You follow the leash up to see a young girl holding it. She sees you. She is grinning from ear to ear, bursting with: happiness, pride, incredulity. Beyond her you see a mother, a sibling, perhaps a father in the background. The are all buoyant. The mother catches your eye, looks down at the puppy, laughs a bit. You realize they are walking their new puppy for the first time. And for a brief moment you have been included in their joy.

* * *

The sky is usually heavy, low, close. It can be a comfort, like a blanket drawn up to keep out the world. It keeps things contained. And yet every once in a while there is a morning that dawns with expansiveness. The sky has elevated itself, soaring overhead. Perhaps it is as simple as a blue sky with distinct clouds to add contrast to the dome overhead -- altocumulus and cirrus instead of stratocumulus. Perhaps that is all the Western Sky has over its Eastern counterpart: high clouds.

* * *

Random Blogger Profile Question: No Limits

Blogger asks you a Random Question on your profile. This was mine:

The children are waiting! Please tell them the story about the bald frog with the wig...

But then they go and give it a 400 character limit! Before I knew that I had a whole story in my mind and I wanted little Frieda to have her story told, so here goes:

Ah, Frieda the Frog. She was a beauty. Everyone in the pond could agree on that. But she did have some strange ideas about being a frog. First off she liked to wear jewelry. Usually made from seeds and bark, bits of vine. She didn't seem to mind the way it inhibited her leaping. Frieda had secret aspirations of being human. And as all frogs are bald she was heart-broken she didn't have long flowing locks like some of the lady humans she'd seen by the pond. So she worked for weeks on a wig of algae and twigs until she had a head of fake hair worthy of her dreams. The other frogs weren't sure what to make of her bangles and green tresses, but they all agreed she was still pretty cute, as frogs go.

I am the Worm God!

After a heavy rainstorm a few weeks back we had some worms appear on the concrete patio in our shared backyard. Jax and David had gone out to play in the yard and came back upstairs with tales of worm saving.

"One of them was as big as a banana," Jax informed me (not exactly sure what meant). I think at that point they had found and rescued 3 worms. Picked them up off the hot concrete, where they would quickly dry out, and deposited them back in the garden soil, under shade.

For the rest of the weekend Jax kept a vigil by looking out his bedroom window to see if he could spot anymore, which he actually did (bless 4 year-old eyesight that can spot a worm two stories down). I was dragged out (down the basement steps, wrestle with the backyard door, up the jagged concrete steps) to the yard on two occasions and I believe our worm-saving count was 7 all told. He told David and me, "I'm very proud of myself for my work today."

Jax knows that worms are important for the soil (thank you Diary of a Worm!) and was very disturbed after a Spring rainstorm to realize they could bake out in the sun after being flooded out of their homes. And this particular worm saving episode had particular import due to the recent passing of one of our cats. Jax, as he does with so much, took his knowledge of mortality very much to heart.

So at the end of our last worm expedition, after we'd checked all the pathways and patio to make sure we'd saved every worm we could, Jax looks at me and says, "You know, I think I'm a god. The Worm God!"

(Before this little tale comes to an end it might be worth mentioning that David and Jax have spent the summer reading The New Gods.)

(And I am now notified every time I miss stepping on an ant on the sidewalk...)