Is that the sun or is it your smile?

In honor of my dentist's birthday, I'm posting a blog post I wrote last year (October 3, 2012), about my trip to the chair.

True confession, I plagiarized that blog post title. I totally stole it from my dentist, who happens to be a writer. Yes, you read that right, my oral health practitioner is a writer. My tooth doctor blogs. My cavity healer tells stories.

"I didn't know you had a dentist," you might be saying.

Valid point. Before noon today, I didn't. So you can imagine how relieved I was when Dr. Snavely told me that his office is not a judgemental one. He assured me of unconditional acceptance after I told him it's been a while since I'd last been to the dentist. (Six or 15 years, however you want to count it.) It was a relief to know that I wouldn't be reprimanded for my sinful oral health behavior. Seriously.

And then Dr. Snavely invited me to wear dark sunglasses. That's the part I liked the most. Those shades protected my eyes from the florescent lights while looking straight up to the ceiling during the exam. But they also protected my dignity in light of such pathetic preventative dental history. I could write a whole meditation on my personal dental life story, but we'll save that for later. (Or you could chat with my mom). The dark glasses kind of covered it all up, at least metaphorically. Or at least they helped me relax.

It has been six years (or 15 however you count it) since I'd last seen a dentist before today, and dang, things have changed. Not only was Dr. Snavely kind, gentle, and non judgemental -- he was all high tech. He has this camera on the end of a stick that shows images on a computer screen right in front of you. So as he describes the condition of each tooth and surrounding maladies, you can see it live on the screen. It is an information geek's dental daydream: to observe the inside of your mouth in live time with dynamic commentary by a trained expert who can explain the status of your inner mouth in terms you can understand.

You're right, I don't have a dentist. I have a decay whisperer.

Which brings me back to the issue of plagiarism. You see, Dr. Snavely not only practises dentistry, he also writes about it. Like all writers, he seeks to understand it, to explore it, to share it. Today I ran across a piece whereby he mentions a couple teeth whitening methods in a post called, "Is that the sun or is it your smile?" (Title, here.) How could I not steal that blog post title? How could you not want a dentist who would write that? Plus, I seriously didn't know that teeth whitening was available to regular folk like me but now that I am dental empowered, I'm thinking about it. I'd like to have sparkly white teeth.

All this to say, if you're in Greater Des Moines and looking for a dentist. I have a recommendation. Check it out: http://www.snavelyfamilydentistry.com/2011/05/is-that-the-sun-or-is-it-your-smile/

Thanks for coming over to the Charmer Blog.

Cheers, T

School Office Conundrum

She's a senior in high school now, but here she is in fifth grade,
otherwise known as her duck tape stage,
when she hand crafted purses, wallets, skirts, and other items
from sturdy, sticky strips.

My daughter is now a senior at Roosevelt High School in Des Moines. Here's a post from a year ago, when she started her junior year. I feel the awe of parenting.


One of her toddler dresses was the color of watermelon. Green and pink with white zig zag piping and black dots like seeds. It had a matching hat. I miss those cute little girl smock dresses my daughter used to wear. We pass through a department store children's section and I still long to buy another one today. She was cute then.

But you know what? She is fun now. As it turns out, the teen years offer as much innocence and inadvertent humor as the pre-school years when my girl would wonder about things such as, "Why are we going the right way?"

These days the funny material comes from her newest thing: working the principal's office during first hour in school. Answering the phones. Helping the secretaries. Filing paperwork. Coordinating students. Typical office stuff. My interest is surely self serving because I've done so much office work in the past 20 years or so. But still, she cracks me up with reports like:

"Mom, they gossip a lot in that office."

and

"Mom, people call crazy mad about the bus company and I have nothing to do with the bus company."

and

"Mom, we had to pass out student ID's this week and it was a madhouse."

and

"Mom, it took me a while to figure out how to transfer calls and I think I hung up on some people."

Sounds pretty normal to me. I have mixed feelings about her office work. On one hand I'm glad she can get the experience. On another, I hope she gets a dose of it then runs as fast as possible in the other direction. I'm reminded why I rarely answer my own phone anymore. My tenure of office work plum burned me out of answering phones, never knowing what the caller was going to say, always knowing that I had to figure out on the spot a way to answer even if there wasn't really an answer. You spin a response on the spot. Receptionist linguistic Olympics. I think I've really made it because I don't have to answer the phone in my current job. For my daughter it goes something like this.

Her: "Roosevelt High School, student speaking, how may I help you?"

Caller: "The bus is late! I want to talk to the principal!"

Her: "The principal is on another line with the bus company."

Caller: "The X@#!% bus is late, I want to talk to the principal now!"

Her: "The principal is on another line resolving the issue with the bus company right now. Can I put you into her voice mail?"

Caller: "The X@#!% bus is late, put me on with the principal!!!"

Her: "But if I put you through, the principal will have to discontinue her conversation with the bus company and thus, not resolve the issue, which is probably the very same issue you are calling about." (OK, she didn't really say that but just thought that response out loud to me.)

That was her first day answering the phones, also her first day of 11th grade.

The only problem is she answers phones during first period, which is the same period that I usually call the school to say that my kid will be late (most always because of me being late in getting her there). Do you see my conundrum? My kid is now the one answering the phone line you call when your kid is going to be late. And the reason your kid is late is because you had to pour another cup of coffee, feed the cats, change your shirt, sleep five more minutes, check Facebook, or whatever valid reason.

The other day my daughter told me that one of her classes was discussion non-verbal communication and political speeches. The teacher showed convention speeches of Paul Ryan and Bill Clinton. They observed the uses of hand gestures and eye contact. "Those guys like to point," she said. But towards the end she was loosing interest in the long speeches, she said.. She was falling asleep in class and apparently wasn't too impressed by Clinton's spellbinding command of relevant factoids. I admit to unabashedly watching every minute of the Democratic National Convention I could, like an idealistic big-eyed puppy who cuddles up close to the we're-all-in-this-together mentality.

Since my daughter and I were on the topic of convention speeches I mentioned that Iowan Zack Walls would be speaking. "He's the one who testified at the Iowa legislature about having two mom's," I said to my speech-analyzing daughter. "Remember, it went viral on You Tube."

She said Paul Ryan was charismatic and could really hold a crowd. "Paul Ryan talked about marriage a lot," she said.

And then it was a slow motion moment. You know, when you see something click. When the air shifts and the person you're with stops and thinks "wait a minute" in a cartoon bubble above her head.

"Wait a minute," she said, "What do they say about marriage?"

As in who can and who can't, who's legitimate and who's not, who's in and who's out. As in, she got to that glorious place beyond the non-verbal communication and wanted to explore the real communication. What are they all really saying? She knows and loves gay cheerleaders, got a good dose of anti gay bullying talk at the ELCA Youth Gathering, plus we watch Glee and have friends at church in committed relationships. So civil equality genuinely holds her interest.

I think in that moment, she realized that a single word can mean two things, depending on who says it and what their record is. Details matter. Marriage on prime time this week was way different than marriage on prime time last week. And I didn't even get a chance to chat with her how different again marriage is in the Bible. (Put it this way: definitely not one man, one woman.)

My lunch break was going long and I had to rush back to my office. I would've loved to continue the conversation because for that moment, she was into the discovery.

I remember another adorable toddler dress. It was light blue denim and had layers of ruffles. Like a denim wedding cake she wore with sneakers. The dress was play-in-the-dirt sturdy so she could rough around while still looking cute. She always was that blend of girly and its anti. A be-ribboned cheerleader who slobs around on weekends. She used to painstakingly dress up her Barbies and then methodically rip off their heads. Presently, we have a box full of decapitated dolls in the garage. We have a house full of dilapidated hair paraphernalia tucked in corners and drawers.

Who knows what children think or how they'll turn out? I have a lot of hopes, but really I have no idea. For now I'm simply enjoying the ride, grateful for every moment. These days when I need a little laugh all I have to ask is this: "So how was the office today?" I might get a some gossip, the transcript of a nutty phone conversation, or I might hear something like this:

"Mom, I like office work but I don't think I'll sign up next semester. I'm taking a class instead."

Huh? It took me decades to get to that place.

Thanks for coming over to my blog.

With love from yours truly,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart


Cheers, T

My War Shelf

This week for fun I reorganized my books and realized we have a war section in the living room. Since we are already talking about the next tax-paid conflict, I thought I'd pass along this excellent reading selection, straight from our living war shelf.

Here goes, from left to right on this picture:

The Bottom Billion, by Paul Collier (This book is not explicitly about war, but rather about the reasons why a billion people on this planet remain in desperate poverty, mostly due to reasons around war. The author is an Oxford Economist, so you could say this is almost like an international socio-economics textbook).

The Forever War, by Dexter Filkins (This New Yorker writer has much experience in Afghanistan and Iraq. He writes like a reporter, not so creative, but super wonky if you're into analysis. Plus, have you ever thought how a team of soldiers defecates while doing house to house searches? He describes it in detail, and it ain't pretty.)

Memories in Mosaic, edited by Maria Lopez Vigil (Letters and stories leading up to the assassination of Salvadoran Archbishop Oscar Romero, smack dab in the middle of presiding over communion, aka, body and blood of Jesus Christ, paid for my the tax dollars of yours truly.)

Jarhead by Anthony Swofford (U.S. Marine writes about his tour in Iraq. He's such a good writer that he went on to Iowa Writer's Workshop after he returned. You probably already know that the Iowa Writers Workshop is the premier writing program in the world. Yes, the world. Anyway, I really liked this book, probably because I love the literary memoir style so much. He's written a couple more books, which are on my list.)

The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien (Critically acclaimed memoir about Vietnam. The book is a collection of stand alone essays that work together to tell a greater story. It's exquisite. You must read this book.)

War is a Force That Gives Us Meaning, by Chris Hedges (If you can only read one book on this list, I'd say read this one. Author talks about his addiction to war, why we love war, and how he got out of the business of war. Since he's a classics scholar, he weaves in a lot of Roman and Greek mythology into his writing.)

Romero, a VHS-tape of my hero, Archbishop Oscar Romero, starring the late, great Raul Julia. (See earlier reference, Memories in Mosaic.)

All I Could Be, My Story as Woman Warrior in Iraq, by Miyoko Hijiki (Someone, send this book to Reese Witherspoon for her next movie project. Thank goodness there's at least one book written by a woman who served in combat, and combat she did, and writer she is. It was such an honor to meet this Des Moines-based author. Since I have her book on my e-reading gadget, she was prepared with this nice postcard of her cover art, the opposite side includes a personal inscription. I'm so honored. This book is so important and I hope you read it.)

Also, because I link propaganda to war:

A Handmaiden's Tale by Margaret Atwood
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (which I admit, I need to read)
Animal Farm by George Orwell

There you have it, my war shelf. I wish these books never existed, never had to be written, never needed to be recommended. But please let me know what you think, if you've read them, or if you have additional recommendations.

Thanks so much for coming over to my blog.

With love from yours truly,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart

A Woman Warrior Reflects

The lovely and talented Kirsten LaBlanc
was the first of six readers at the inaugural public
reading of my writing club, River City Writers,
held at 4th Street Theater
attached to Java Joes in downtown Des Moines.
Bravo, everyone!

Woo hoo! Last night my writing club, River City Writers, hosted our first reading and it was awesome. I pretty much forgot to take pictures but fortunately, a friend took this one so you get the idea of how cool it was. We were in the 4th Street Theater, attached to Java Joes, a full service coffee shop/wine bar in downtown Des Moines, with two awesome waitri to tend our food and drink orders. (And set up the mic, as my stage hand skills have only just begun.)

This is the first reading I've organize and I hoped for six people. 25 people showed up, including one guy who walked in from the street because he saw something "literary" on the event calendar, he said. He didn't leave early so I took that as a good sign, and I'm sure it wasn't for the free wine. Seriously, I was thrilled with group who showed up; everyone was so casual and mellow, just what I'd hoped for.

I am so proud of all the readers, most who were in my summer writing class "Song of Myself." Happy teacha here. I couldn't believe the stories they wrote and read. We were all spell bound with tales of heartache, love, road trips, shame, fire, a first kiss, and Clark Kent. Bravo, everyone, bravo. And now I feel the force of momentum pushing me to put together the next four-week class for October, "Radio Station KFKD." (An exploration of Anne Lamott's "Bird by Bird." Let me know if you're interested. Watch for more info.)

Our guest reader was truly spectacular. Miyoko Hikiji read from her memoir, "All I Could Be, My Story as a Woman Warrior in Iraq." (With thanks to Kirsten LaBlanc who booked Miyoko.) Presently, I am half way through reading the book myself and it is a page turner. But it's more than a good read -- it's a thoughtful, thorough, interesting, truthful, passionate, painful, chilling, thrilling account of her experience as a soldier, as a female soldier, as an Asian American female soldier. While she's pretty dang tough, her writing style is not just a rockem' sockem' war story (although there is some of that too). Miyoko is deeply reflective and introspective while using plain and simple language the described the military setting which centers her memoir. I think she could eventually sell her book for a movie deal. I don't know much about how Hollywood works, but I think this book would work there. Miyoko effectively utilizes dialogue to tell her story, so much so, that the screenplay could almost write itself. 

I close this post in deep gratitude for everyone who came out last night, for the awesome River City Writers, and for the amazing Miyoko Hikiji, who has a story to tell that is important to all Americans. Check out her video blog below. 

Thanks for coming to my blog. 

With love from yours truly,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart

Messy awesome kid

Seems like yesterday, but here we are celebrating the boy's 14th birthday. (I've been trying not to use my kids names in social media, fyi, after realizing how prevalent they are on Google searches, thanks to me, and after they specifically requested that they be removed from google searches, but posting your kid on the internet, like so many other parental actions, cannot be undone.)

I'm posting this picture with permission, and with great nostalgia for my children's childhood. We blinked our eye and now he's a teenager on the verge of high school and a driver's permit.

Just in case this gives the illusion that I've been a vigilant scrap booker ... sadly, no. It's one of a half dozen pages I've created to represent the past 20 years of marriage and motherhood. The will is there, by gosh. Scrapbooks, look out 'cuz here I come.

There's so much I could say about this time and place, summer, 2001, Baltimore, backyard. For now, I'll just say "we made it."

With love from yours truly,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart

Man Candy: 'til death or DMV do us part

Guest blogger, the right reverend Erik Elkin in front of,
I believe, the original "American Gothic" house, somewhere in Iowa,
a place for which I should know more location details, a place for which
I should have already visited, an artwork for which I can truthfully say
I have seen the original, it was awesome though it gave me the creeps
(looked like incest to me). However this blogpost is hilarious
and I give thanks to the extraordinary  Erik Elkin
for allowing me to post. I hope it makes you laugh.
 

Dear Bleeding Heart readers, as you know, this blog has been sorely at loss of humor for a very long time. I apologize. Thankfully, I'm able to troll Facebook for material and today came upon this gem of a guest post, brought to you by and with permission from, the indomitable storyteller, Erik Elkin. Enjoy!

Peggy (the presumed wife) received critical information today while attempting to get a Minnesota Driver's License. It turns out we're not legally married. The pastor never filed the paperwork. We just went through a rigorous series of background checks under new government lending laws to borrow money to purchase a house. But It took the fine investigative work of the DMV to figure this little nugget of information out.

She's really upset about it, on the verge of tears and the DMV guy says, "Don't worry, you can still take your test." Thank you Jesus for protective glass. As she tells me the story all I can think about is all the times we have been rejected by the DMV for not having the correct forms with us, this one takes the cake.

So, as Peggy is crying, I think to myself, I'm single! Hey, Ladies! In a predictable lapse of judgment at a critical moment I decide to blurt this out loud. You know, to make her feel better. She then reminds me about all the money Margaret and Eric Elkin have borrowed in recent years. Since Margaret Elkin does not exist, Eric Elkin must pay back all this money by himself.  

This gets her on a roll. She gets even more mad when she realizes, because I am male and did not change my name, Eric Elkin will not have to go through this humiliation. Which now all of a sudden has unleashed her feminist inner-tiger, complete with the claws and fangs of death.  It's no longer about me, but men in general. Since men in general are not in the room, I take the heat for all of them. Men get this, men get to do that, yada yada, yada... Peggy decides she needs to start making a stand for herself and declaring her liberation.

So short story long, Peg's got a date tonight a wealthy guy named, "Man Candy." And, I'm looking for a second job to avoid debtors prison. Damn you DMV!

 

Seeking security in my own backyard

Hello, dear friends. I hope this blog post finds you well and safe and secure. I've been thinking about security lately, mostly because it's one of those things that you don't know you have until you don't have it. Some of you may have been reading the posts that I've uploaded on behalf of my dear friend, Heba, who lives in Cairo, the capital city of Egypt. She and her family live close to the city center, close to Tahrir Square, and so they are very front and center of the current events there, helicopters, soldiers, blockades and all.

It seems so very far away from where I write this post -- my back deck with the sounds of birds and cicadas as the evening sets. I am not afraid for my safety, although last weekend when I slept outside in the tent it occurred to me that there might be some backyard marauders who would swoop down on my little faux-camping escape and attack me. Even though I was approximately 50 yards away from my back door, the fresh air and the glorious nature gave way to genuine fear, or loneliness, or silliness, and I packed up my pillows and headed back into the house.

The funny thing is, when I trudged up the stairs to our bedroom at 2 a.m., feeling all stuffy in the house after being outside (I was feeling very James-the-cat, who prowls around all night every night) there was Bob, awake and standing there as if he was anticipating that my backyard adventure would be over soon. Stuffy indoor-air aside, it was very nice. I have no idea how we can be that in tune to awaken at the same time of the night.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, personal security. Many of us live in a time a place when we can hardly imagine what it's like to feel genuinely unsafe, for the most part. That's why I feel so worried for Heba.

I remember after 9-11, back when I had my international job, how many people sent messages of condolences to my organization. 9-11 to us was a big deal because we had never before experienced such an attack, however to many, many people who sent messages of love and support to my former employer -- people from places like Indonesia, Uganda, Tanzania, Kenya, the Phillipines, Colombian (and on and on) -- such acts of aggression had been already painfully experienced. They knew what it felt like. They wanted to reach out and offer a word of love.

Anyway, here I am, in my back yard, warm air, cool breeze, orange sunset, and full of you, dear readers. Feeling safe, and feeling hopeful. Feeling full of concern and solidarity for my friend Heba, and everyone who lives in some sort of state of insecurity. (As my professional work involves constantly seeking funding for domestic violence survivors, I think also often think of these folks. That's been a whole other eye opening experience.)

Thanks much for coming over to the Bleeding Heart blog.

With love from yours truly,

Natural Born Bleeding Heart

P.S. Speaking of personal security -- I am feeling sick at the verdict just handed down for the Trayvon Martin case. Apparently it's Ok in Florida to chase down an unarmed kid doing nothing but walking through a neighborhood and gun him dead. I feel sick. I feel sick.