Duly Noted

On a Saturday morning in July, Mike, Misha, and I headed to Powderhorn Park, a green bowl in the middle of the city, to meet some our favorite friends at the wading pool.  Minneapolis may not have the lap pools of my youth, but, as a parent with a toddler, I have certainly discovered the value of the wading pool.  I don't think that there are many experiences more pleasant than sitting shin deep water, talking with good friends as you watch your little ones splash and play games together.  A light breeze fluttering through the trees and playing with our hair.  Our children pretending to be fish and crocodiles.  Learning to share.  Learning to swim.  Learning to linger.

I want to write more often.  Everyday, a least one idea runs through my head that pulls at me to write down, but I rarely do.  I plan to start carrying around a little striped moleskin I received in my stocking so I can capture these fleeting ideas. This afternoon, let's have a quick chat about routine. For me, routines are usually helpful and intentional.  These days, I eat before I run.  I run before I teach.  I make dinner for my family.  I read before I sleep.  During the school year and the work week, I have a pattern that I can count on for stability and balance. During the weekend, I have a few routines too.  I like to eat pizza on Fridays.  I run my longest run, usually with a friend, Saturday morning.  I try to go to church on Sunday. Then, there are my routines with little Misha.  We read before he goes to bed.  I sing him the same songs as I tuck him in at night.  He watches an episode of "Elmo" while he...

When I chose to teach a handful of Hemingway short stories in my twelfth grade English class, I did not expect to moderate a heated discussion about acquaintance rape.  Yet, to veer away from the conversation directly counteracts my belief in literature’s ability to tackle the most human and difficult of topics.   Hemingway’s “Up In Michigan” begins innocently.  Liz is infatuated by Jim.  Jim thinks Liz “had good legs,” but “he never thought about her.”  Suspense builds as Jim gets drunk and Liz waits for him in the kitchen.  Thanks to the omniscient narrator, readers learn that Liz is frightened but she goes for a walk with Jim anyway.  Even though Liz verbally resists, the narrator describes, “She was frightened but she wanted it.  She had to have it but it frightened her.”  After the deed is done, Jim passes out, and Liz, though miserable, covers him with her coat before walking away.   Whether Hemingway intentionally wrote Jim...