1066 and Poetry

This week, Garrison Keillor has highlighted the importance of the Norman Conquest of 1066 in the English language.

Now, for those of you who did not take the History of England class with me, 1066 is the year William the Conqueror did just that to England.

And if you read this week's entries of The Writer's Almanac, you can find out how that helped make English one of the hardest languages to learn.

The next time you lament the fact that someone doesn't speak English, think about to, two and too. Or, better yet, its and it's. It takes a brave person to learn English.

And to that end, here is a poem that sets my teeth on edge. Enjoy!

Windows is Shutting Down

Windows is shutting down, and grammar are
On their last leg. So what am we to do?
A letter of complaint go just so far,
Proving the only one in step are you.

Better, perhaps, to simply let it goes.
A sentence have to be screwed pretty bad
Before they gets to where you doesnt knows
The meaning what it must be meant to had.

The meteor have hit. Extinction spread,
But evolution do not stop for that.
A mutant languages rise from the dead
And all them rules is suddenly old hat.

Too bad for we, us what has had so long
The best seat from the only game in town.
But there it am, and whom can say its wrong?
Those are the break. Windows is shutting down.

by Clive James
from Opal Sunset: Selected poems, 1958–2008
© W.W. Norton & Company, 2008

"Anti-Wedding" is Anti-Person

After reading the article about Washington Post writers Caitlin Gibson and Rachel Manteuffel's anti-wedding project, I was sickened. They were just as snobbish as the very industry they ridiculed.

In a video on the Washington Post Web site, these journalists thumbed through bridal magazines citing all of the images of material goods that oppressed women because, they said, the industry made women feel bad when they couldn't afford a $15,000 wedding dress.

Then they criticized those who wanted to do just that.

Go ahead, ladies, make the women feel bad for their decisions — join the Wedding Industry Complex Club.

For the record, not all couples want to spend six months' mortgage on a wedding dress. Some want an event that features lace, fondant and flowers but without the hype.

When David and I married this summer, I didn't flip through a single bridal magazine. I did visit The Knot once, though, to find bridal bouquet ideas for Louise, who was making my bouquet.

I was sniffed at by a snooty dress saleswoman (two months? and how much did you want to spend? Oh, well, we can't accommodate you, but let me show you a $20,000 wedding dress....). By Caitlin and Rachel's measure, I suppose I should have felt bad, but I didn't.

Although David and I didn't play the game, I cannot fault a couple who want all the tulle they can handle or a groom's cake in the shape of an armadillo. If you want to buy a Mercedes instead of a Yugo, go for it. Life is about making the best decisions you can, and this is the first a couple will make together.

However, no matter the make and model of the wedding, I hope the blissful couple remember: it's not about the wedding, but the marriage that follows. If you'd do it in a dreary office of the justice of the peace on a Tuesday afternoon, the only witness a tired secretary borrowed from the DMV next door, then you're marrying the right person.

No Longer Hip

Okay, the soft-focus, feel-good entries are over. Now the hard work begins.

As Wesley said in The Princess Bride, "To the pain."

Recently, when I walked (which was only when I had to), I used some sort of assistive device. I walked slowly, used elevators and sat a lot.

Now I'm trying to walk more frequently and farther. You know, it isn't as easy as I remember it being.

First of all, what happened to all of those muscles I used daily in such torturous ways for lo those many years? They stopped working. Now every move is an "Ow, so that's where that muscle is" moment. (If this is revenge by said muscles, I am in serious trouble.)

I never had a wild childhood or teen years, so now I'm getting my joints. The ankle is an ouch-fest. The knee is a challenge. The hip — oh, the hip; if anyone wants to trade left hips with me, contact me immediately.

I really am no longer hip.

I'd like to think that there's a part of my body that still likes me, but the more I think about it, the less I am convinced. I thought it would be pleased for the siesta and return refreshed and eager, like we all do when school starts in September.

You mean that was just me?

So, I guess I really had unreasonable expectations for my poor person. Thank you all for not mentioning it before. To have had a glimpse into the future with no chance to avoid or change it would have been mean. Silence, in this case, was very golden.

And, yes, I'll continue to walk. Just don't think I'll be happy about it.

And the nice thing is, I can be cranky. I feel well enough now to know the difference between comfort and discomfort — and to have the spirit to kvetch. I'll try to not be insufferable about it, but I make no promises.

"To the pain!"

The Paparazzi

Look to the right of this entry, and down a little bit. See the Cool Links section?

Do you see an entry that intrigues you?

Okay, I'll give you a hint: see what our Personal Paparazzo captured at David's and my nuptials. ("Our" paparazzo would be Steve Hayward. Isn't he great?)

Those who would like to possibly join the Hayward Gallery for The Event of the Century (so far), send in your photos! I'd love to see them!

In the meantime, check out the photos. I think you'll like them. I know David and I do!

Banned Books Week is on the Horizon!

This year, the American Library Association's Banned Books Week will be celebrated September 27 through October 4.

How are you going to mark that week?

I think I will try to read one or more frequently challenged books. I have read quite a few of them (but there's always more from which to choose, I'm afraid). In fact, last year I read And Tango Makes Three.

Really, protesters should know about people like me: I don't turn away from controversy, but wade into the middle of it. I research that which is being protested. If you tell me that something shouldn't be read, what do you think I do? I read it!

So, start shopping at your local library or bookstore. Find that "obscene" or "explicit" book and see for yourself if it's all that and a bag of chips.

Don't let others decide what you can read. Never let others make decisions for you. You're smarter than that. So go exercise that brain and your freedom. See what it's all about.

And whether you agree or not, decide what your course of action will be. This is, after all, the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave. Be both.

I "Cane" Do it

As David and I walked out of Red Robin tonight after a lovely dinner out, I stepped aside as three people entered the foyer: a father holding the door, a son entering the doorway and a mother bringing up the rear.

The son was a young boy, about age 3, using a 4-wheeled walker. His legs were twisted, but he pressed on with a steady and determined gait.

David greeted him, and the boy had a huge grin on his bespectacled face.

I added my piece: "Those are cool wheels!" (They were much fancier than anything I ever had, hands down.)

The young boy's front tires snagged on the door jam, and his mother reached forward to help him over it.

His father stopped her: "Let him do it. He can do it."

And he did.

And as we stepped outside and made our way to our car, I pressed my head against David's shoulder, tears in my eyes, and managed to whisper, "I'm having a tremendous grateful moment right now."

Don't get me wrong — I'm allowed to feel awful from time to time. Watching last week's women's marathon and this week's men's marathon was hard because I can't run. I had a meltdown today when I realized I made a mistake on my first equipment order, and I hope I can resolve it Monday — not earth-shattering, but still demoralizing that I can't even read a catalog.

But I am walking with a natty cane and I am healing, and for that I am grateful.

Grateful

This has been a pretty interesting summer — and everyone has heard the Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times."

David and I were thrilled to be married June 19. The day was perfect on so many levels. Most importantly, we were together. I couldn't think of anything that would have kept me from that.

There were a couple of things that tried to derail me from the joys of married life: a broken foot (a week after the nuptials) and emergency abdominal surgery (a month and a day after the wedding). One was hard enough, but the two together were formidable — especially when physicians look at only the part they're treating.

Then I had a reality check. I read computer bulletin board postings that began, "I'm 16 and I got my colostomy for my 10th birthday" and "I have been diagnosed with Crohn's disease" or "I'm in stage 2 colon cancer."

Suddenly, I realized just how fortunate I am. My interruptions are temporary.

Sure, I have a few cool new scars, and I'll have to make up a good story in case someone sees them and asks. ("Ninjas" worked for my foot, but probably not for abdominal scars.)

Plus, I am actually walking with a natty new cane now, and standing in the shower and driving myself.

Maybe I can't carry the groceries up the stairs, but that just means I shop for less or not assist the flagging economy myself.

So vacuuming will have to wait until someone is available (and, with the cats lacking opposable thumbs, I see David's name being tossed in the ring for that task).

So I'm a little slower than before. It was all that darting about that got me in trouble in the first place.

So I have to wait to start running for a few more months. That just means I train with David until the ice recedes and I can run the streets safely again. I probably overdid it anyway. (Wait, who said that?)

I'm not saying I'm happy that things happened as they did. Oh, no — catch me on a cranky day and I'll give you what-fer. Right now is not what I anticipated, and I have no illusion that it will pass quickly enough for my liking. There hasn't been enough frolicking for my liking (but is there ever enough, really?). I'm supposed to be drenched in the thrill of being a newlywed, swimming in clear waters in my new bikini, basking in the glow of wedded bliss. So far, I'm zero for three.

However, David has been fabulous. He has tended to me with loving care and I have wanted for nothing (except for Cake Batter ice cream, but that's a different story).

So we stretch out our honeymoon for a little while longer. I can live with that.

I'm just grateful that I will one day leave it all behind. And I'll still have David. I am definitely on the winning end of that situation.