My paper

Apr. 28th, 2011 04:57 pm
ceebeegee: (Virginia)
After the thorough defeat of the English at the Battle of Hastings in 1066, early medieval observers could be forgiven if they believed they had witnessed the demise of the infantry. Harold’s tight column of foot soldiers had ultimately proven no match for the mobility, speed, and sheer force of weight displayed by William the Conqueror’s Norman cavalry, and the 11th century nascent warrior society, which William exemplified perfectly, took notice. And so, encouraged by William of Poitiers’s panegyric portrait of the Conqueror leading his troops on horseback to overwhelming victory and the vivid, dashing imagery of the Bayeux Tapestry, the cult of Chaucer’s “verray, parfit, gentil knyght,” the elite mounted warrior guided by a moral and social code, emerged in the generations following Hastings, inspiring poet and historian, king and soldier. For over 200 years the cavalry’s invincibility in medieval warfare and the mystical righteousness of the knight were held as an article of faith—until the Battle of the Golden Spurs at Courtrai in 1302 proved the infantry was far from obsolete, and that the highly trained warrior caste could in fact be brought low by its presumed inferiors....


Whew. Banged out most of this Monday night but did some Tuesday night and Wednesday as well. This was actually kind of interesting because I used the Bayeux Tapestry as a source, and "quoted" sections of it in the paper, c&p-ing it into the body of the paper.

Even the etymology of Poitiers’s original text binds soldier to horse—William’s sobriquet of “redoubtable mounted warrior” reads as “terribilem equitem” in Latin. Appropriately the Norman horses share in their masters’ triumph: we read “[e]ven the hooves of the horses inflicted punishment on the dead as they galloped over their bodies” and the final image in the Tapestry shows William’s cavalry pursuing the fleeing English.



And my conclusion:

...[L]ater on we read “[m]ore than a thousand simple knights…fell there, and more than three thousand splendid chargers and valuable horses were stabbed during the battle.” These horses are not just valuable but splendid—the bewilderment of the anonymous Annales chronicler at this disaster is manifest and there is an elegiac quality to these passages, as though medieval chivalry itself were dying. Generations of cavaliers, nurtured on tales of the Conqueror and inspired by the imagery of the Tapestry, are now betrayed by their faith in the assumed superiority of the mounted warrior. But perhaps the knights themselves betrayed the code of chivalry—perhaps, as the cult of medieval knighthood developed and armor grew heavier, they took for granted their own invulnerability, and trusted that a cavalry charge and elite status were proof enough against the rabble. Courtrai would challenge such comfortable assumptions—and as a final insult to knightly and aristocratic privilege, we are told that “[d]uring the battle many [infantry]…who previously little thought that such a thing could happen to them, were knighted.”

I think you can tell I'm a Southerner from this passage! There is an echo of Rhett and Ashley's wistfulness for gallantry and the old days in this writing, now that I think of it, especially when Ashley looks at Scarlett and admires her gallantry (in the book, it's when she's making the dress out of the curtains). And the Southerners were crazy for medieval chivalry, they loved Sir Walter Scott.

DONE. Now, on to finals. And softball.

Booooks

Jul. 2nd, 2010 12:54 pm
ceebeegee: (Virginia)

So I'm reading several very interesting books right now.  One is about the Lehman Brothers collapse in '08, called A Colossal Failure of Common Sense.  It is really very dense going so after getting a concentrated lesson on convertible bonds and securitization, I literally have to stop reading for a little while to let it sink in.  But I am following most of it thanks to the book's readibility.  Ghost-written or not, it's still fascinating, although apparently somewhat polarizing among the cogniscenti

Also, via the ever-helpful Columbia library system (A Thing of Beauty), I got my hot little historian hands on a copy of James W. Silver's Mississippi: The Closed Society.  I read this book back in college--Silver was a professor of history at Ole Miss and personally witnessed the riot the night James Meredith (the first black student at Ole Miss) arrived on campus.  He wrote this book in response, a book-length treatment of a speech he made when stepping down from Ole Miss.  And so (like the Michener book below) it's very much of the time, which is fantastic.  When he wrote it, the Civil Rights bill hadn't yet been passed so he didn't yet know how things would turn out.  This is why I love reading contemporary accounts--it's great to read people's thoughtful analysis of what HAS happened, and very useful, but it is genuinely thrilling to read a running account of what IS happening.  Some fascinating, and relevant, analysis of the political insanity and the lengths to which people will go to justify their positions.  Of course we see some of the same thing today, only it's more coded and covert.

It occurs to me that Silver must've been at Ole Miss when Florence King was there, and I think her Master's was in history.  I wonder if she worked with him?

I also bought a great copy of James Michener's Kent State: What Happened and Why on Amazon Marketplace.  Such an excellent book--this is another book I read back in college that sparked my interest in Kent State.  KS is one of those historical incidents that, as shocking as it was, people seem to have closed the door on.  And this was indeed truly shocking--four students were murdered, shot dead during a peaceful protest (and two of them weren't even involved in the protest, they were walking to class).  My theory is that it was so terrible and unexpected, there was a kind of sea change of consciousness--students and activists decided that if that was the potential price for activism, it wasn't worth it.  So terribly sad. I find the opinions posted on Amazon interesting--most people who are still interested in KS tend to be (in my experience) liberal, probably because of what I said above, that KS hasn't been meaningfully addressed in our national history, it is still unresolved.  And a great many Amazon posters see the Michener book is conservative and therefore biased--I'm not sure I agree.  He sure doesn't have much regard for the SDS but the last part of his book is taken up by a kind of "where do we go from here?" manifesto and it is very sympathetic to the counter-culture. He also lists numerous examples of how badly the "other side" (non-hippies, conservatives) acted in the wake of the massacre, spreading all sorts of terrible stories about the dead, and sending "you should've died" cards to the wounded and even saying things like "the score is four/and next time more."  Just unbelievable.  Reading that book radicalized me to some extent (well, as far as Kent State is concerned--radical is always a relative term with me!); I don't see it as particularly conservative.  One thing I'm enjoying is the historically coded language--early on in the book he talks about people who'd appeared in the KS campus, non-students (in the contemporary lingo, outside agitators--no one's son or daughter ever came up with anything bad on their own, it was always blamed on outside agitators).  He describes them, and says something kind of throwaway about how they resembled "those monsters in California."  And that's it.  Of course he was talking about the Manson murderers--that casual reference, which apparently needed no explanation, tells how much the Manson killings two years before terrified the nation.  They killed the counter-culture as much as anybody.

Another book, also a contemporary piece--The Summer That Didn't End: The Story of the Mississippi Civil Rights Project of 1964.  This is a first-hand account of Freedom Summer, when a large group of trained activists, black and white, went down to the Magnolia State for a multi-pronged offensive:  to register more blacks to vote, to educate black kids and generally to raise consciousness--all without protection from the federal givernment.  This is of course the setting for the notorious murders in Neshoba County, when the sheriff and his hee haw thug deputy and their ilk, arrested three civil rights workers, jailed them and beat them, set them loose and then followed them out of town and murdered them and hid the bodies.  Undoubtedly because two of them were white, the case aroused an enormous amount of attention and the Feds came down (FINALLY), combed the area, finally found the bodies due to a tipster, and prosecuted the case.  The case inspired the (somewhat romanticized) movie Mississippi Burning and also a poster (this image is from their trial) with the sardonic slogan "Support Your Local Sheriff."

As you can see by the books, I've really been immersing myself in the history of the '50s/'60s/'70s.  It's riveting.  We post-Civil Rights babies take for granted what an amazing thing took place--when you read about pre-civil rights Missiissippi and Alabama, how utterly hostile and awful those societies were towards blacks and anyone who wasn't absolutely conformist to a specific orthodoxy, how literally savagely they behaved towards those who challenged the orthodoxy in any way--you start to comprehend what an incredible sea change happened--and in less than a generation.
ceebeegee: (Default)
I Netflixed Spike Lee's documentary 4 Little Girls; MAN.  It's not manipulative and there's not a strong POV in it; the camera just tells the stories.  There are extensive interviews, mainly with the remaining family members, but with other commentators as well, including Walter Cronkite and Bill Cosby.  And George Wallace.  Wallace is an interesting character, one of those byzantinely complicated Southerners regarding race relations.  Like Lyndon Johnson.  Johnson, in his personal life, was racist, called his chauffeur "boy" and expressed other racist sentiments.  But politically this man pushed through the Civil Rights Act of 1964--at the cost of his own party's hegemony.  (No one knows for sure whether Johnson said "we have lost the South for a generation" (after Reconstruction, the South was all-Democratic)--but you know a politician as savvy as Johnson recognized that reality.)  He was able to transcend his own personal racism and be the rarest of leaders, someone who appeals to the better side of people.  Sometimes, in fatalistic mood, I think Kennedy had to die in order to make Civil Rights happen. If he'd lived the administration wouldn't have had that emotional leverage, that nation united in grief, to push it through.

At any rate Wallace was another one of those torturously complicated racist Southerners.  (It's frequently like that down there--Southern racism is very different from Northern racism because even back then, blacks interacted much more with whites than they did up North.)  Wallace was THE arch-symbol of segregation--in his inaugural address as Governor of Alabama, he famously declared "segregation now, segregation tomorruh, and segregation forevuh!"  And yet later in his life, during his last term as Governor, he renounced his racist beliefs, apologized o civil rights leaders and acted on that--appointed blacks in record numbers.  Lee's documentary seems not to take that change of views seriously--it has an odd couple of interview snippets with Wallace where it uses subtitles for his speech (I dunno, I understood fine what he was saying, although he did have a strong accent--I guess I see that as a tactic to undermine what he was saying) and in general films the Wallace segments differently (no closeups, for one thing).  But I can understand why someone might not accept Wallace's conversion; he acted pretty badly in the '60s.  He had a lot to answer for.

Anyway, the documentary is very strong, just breaks your heart.  One of those pieces that just makes you hate people, sad to say.  Birmingham was some kind of dark place on the planet then--the background on the city, "Bombingham," is interesting because I have a lot of family there, my grandfather was from Birmingham.  A very dark place in the '60s that attracted a lot of dark, angry energy. 



I love this graphic for the DVD.  Although that's some awfully Catholic iconography for a Baptist church!

At one point in the documentary, two of the girls' sisters were talking about the last time they'd seen their sisters, or spoken to them, and the music was playing this one sustained string note.  Tension.  As if--their fate was nigh.  When we look back at events, especially those that are iconic, important turning points like this, we tend to accept them as already having happened, a fait accompli.  Fate.  We know it's already happened, we know the ending of the story and it's hard to watch the narrative without that foreknowledge.  Was this their fate?  Was Ate looking over the 16th Street Baptist Church, was it meant to happen?  Or was it a series of choices made by the racist filth who planted the bomb, and the leadership of the city and the South (like Wallace and Bull Connor--God, what an uptight, angry, hateful creature he was) who, deliberately or not, encouraged this kind of action, in conjunction with the random choices made by the girls and their family, and the church, that all aligned to place these girls in that basement at 10:22 that morning?

And the choir kept singing of freedom...

ceebeegee: (Default)
I've been rereading some articles about the Frank case. Can anyone tell me who is supposed to have written those two notes? Was it really the little girl? Surely Conley wouldn't have planted them there, since they implicate him.

Reading about this case makes me hate people.

Outliers

Feb. 2nd, 2009 12:40 pm
ceebeegee: (Moody Scotland)
I'm reading a couple of interesting books right now. One is Outliers--I borrowed it from the husband of one of my Sweet Briar friends. It's about the context of success--how success is NOT just a matter of hard work and wanting to succeed, but also involves a lot of unexamined circumstantial assistance. Not just things like a good family (wealth, good schools), but even something like the month in which you were born. One case that was quoted in a review I read (this may have been what caused me to want to read the book, as I always want to know more about context, it's like an obsession with me) is how all Canadian hockey players turn out to have been born in the first four months of the year. Something prompted Gladwell to notice this coincidence, and then go back and retrace why all these players might have done so well. The Canadian youth leagues have an annual cutoff date of January 1st. So of the players who are entering the system for the first time, obviously the bigger players--those who have had the advantage of being a few months older, with a few months more muscular development--are more likely to get slotted into the select tracks. They then receive more practice time on better equipment, they progress faster as a result and so the ball starts rolling.

He also looks at cultural legacies, both ethnic and socioeconomic, and how these affect our tendencies toward success. Comparing genius-level IQs from different background, he looks at why one guy with an IQ of nearly 200 is a farmer compared to, say, Robert Oppenheimer who came from a much more elite background but tried to poison his tutor in college. Why did the latter succeed spectacularly while the former is living quietly--not teaching, not researching, not published? Because Oppenheimer was able to talk his way out of being expelled, because he had the necessary skills to negotiate with authority. According to Gladwell, middle- and upper-middle class kids are generally raised to ask questions, to assert their place, whereas children of a lower socioeconomic class are taught to keep their distance from authority--not to question or argue. (I myself noticed this when living in the ghetto building--I remember waiting endlessly for an elevator when several were broken and saying something. One of my co-residents said "there's no use in complaining, nothing'll happen." I said in exasperation "if no one says anything, you're guaranteeing that nothing will ever change.")

Another section talks about why so many feuds (and crimes involving the concept of honor) are concentrated in certain sections of the country (the South, Brooklyn). Apparently cultures of honor tend to originate in specific geographies--typically hill country containing rocky soil, such as Scotland, Sicily, the Middle East. Of course it's difficult to cultivate this kind of land, so instead of growing crops, these inhabitants tend herds. A crop farmer has a different relationship with his neighbors than a herdsman--crop farmers tend to cooperate more, because they need each other more, and also because it's impossible to steal a whole crop. However herders are more vulnerable, and therefore more defensive. And of course most of the South is populated by people of English/Scottish descent--Gladwell argues that even though almost of all of them are many generations removed from that environment, the cultural patterns are still in evidence.

The whole book is fascinating and very readable.
ceebeegee: (Default)
Ha! I finally figured out how to use that userpic factory so as to make an icon of my beloved home state. Take THAT, Technology!

Michael and I saw Eccentricities of a Nightingale on Monday night. It's a (heavily) revised version of my favorite Tennessee Williams play, Summer and Smoke, about the somewhat eccentric daughter of an Episcopal priest in Glorious Hill, Mississippi around 1916. Alma is such a lovely, delicate creature, with Blanche's romanticism and love for the half-light but without her annoying qualities :) (Blanche gets on my nerves sometimes.) She has a line in the original, a quotation of Oscar Wilde's: "We are all of us lying in the gutter, but some of us are looking up at the stars." She's such a pure idealist, her yearning so strong--I love how she refuses to indulge John's summer of dissolution. John is the doctor's son (and newly minted doctor himself) who lives next door--she has been in love with him since she was a child.

In the original, the action starts in the summer and mostly takes place there. Johnny has just graduated from Johns Hopkins with honors but has no interest in applying himself; he only wants to gamble, drink, hang out. He and Alma have some pretty strongly worded discussions about the soul versus the physical and he makes a clumsy pass at her on the one date they attempt. Later in the fall, she tells him she's changed her mind ("Last summer I was suffocating in smoke, from somethin' on fire inside me...") and he says even if she'd let him before, he wouldn't have been able to--he wouldn't have felt worthy. She has a beautiful line, something about "so you've come around to my way of thinking, just as I have to yours, two people exchanging a call on each other at the same time, and each one finding the other one gone out, the door locked against him, and no one to answer the bell." Oh, it breaks my heart. He ends up engaged to one of her voice students, and she? As Johnny says to her teasingly earlier in the play "Miss Alma is lonely..." and the last we see of her, she is picking up a traveling salesman and about to hit the redlight district with all her brittle charm on display.

Eccentricities of a Nightingale changes the stories and characters considerably--Johnny in particular is much less interesting. He's much more of a mama's boy--they have this weird more-than-faintly Oedipal relationship that diminishes him quite a bit. Alma is muuuuuch more eccentric (some of it was the actor), not an improvement. She's so weird that frankly you wonder what he sees in her!--she needs to have some sweetness to attract him, and us. She's much less vulnerable. Alma's mother's cruelty has been transferred to her father. And most of the action takes place during the Christmas/New Year's season, instead of in the summer. This means one of my favorite exchanges is lost--when Alma has retreated into the rectory after the summer's failure and her father asks plaintively "what am I to say to people who ask about you?" and she replies "tell them I've changed and you're waiting to see in what way."
ceebeegee: (Helen of Troy)
Michael and I saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof last night. For the most part I thought it was pretty good, although not transcendently good (so no standing O from me). Anika Noni Rose did a great job as Maggie--not really the way I would've played it (I thought she missed a lot of the musicality of the role) but she did interesting things with it. Terence Howard was good in the intense scenes--his monologue about Skipper was quite good--but he was a little too subdued in the other stuff. He just looked drunk, not motivatedly drunk (IOW, I didn't see why he was drunk, I didn't see the torment within, even a hint). Was quite impressed with Phylicia Rashad, who I thought was wrong for Big Mama. She didn't seem the type but she came through--amazingly vulnerability from her. Great face, it registered a lot. I'm sorry to say, I was disappointed in James Earl Jones. I thought he missed a LOT in his monologues--seemed to rush through them instead of experiencing them, and I found it difficult to understand him sometimes. His cry in the third act, when Gooper says "sounds like the pain has hit" should be like a dying animal, a bellow, much bigger and more primal than it was. And when he realizes the truth at the end of Act II he should be MUCH more affected than JEJ played it--he has been betrayed, they're all "LIARS!" It seemed very casual.

Giancarlo Esposito as Brother Man was great, as was his Sister Woman. Their kids were cute and appropriately annoying except for the one who has the scene with Maggie--horrible, annoying child actor who played her scene like Dee from "what's Happening!!," ridiculously sarcastic and snotty. She also lounged on the couch during the curtain call--her father is Terence Howard so I doubt she's going to get called on it.

The set, transparent scrims for the walls, was neat except for the badly painted moon and the lame-o fireworks. And I liked the much-criticized "spotlight on monologues" thing that Allen had going, except for one fade-in that happened too quickly. However they didn't use the Elia Kazan ending (the one where Brick makes it clear to Gooper and Mae that he's backing Maggie's story)--they used the earlier one that Tennessee Williams wrote, that ends with Maggie turning out the lights and saying "you weak, beautiful people who give up! What you need is someone to take hold of you, gently, with love!...I do love you, Brick, I do!" Brick: "Wouldn't it be funny if that were true?" The writing of that last exchange is lovely of course, but I prefer the other ending, where Mae is screeching at Maggie, saying "we know you're not pregnant, we hear the nightly pleading and the nightly refusal." And Brick says "Sister Woman, how do you know we don't come to some kind of temporary arrangement?...Oh, I know some people are huffers and puffers, but others are silent lovers." Mae says in amazement "I cannot believe you are stooping to her level, I simply cannot believe you are stooping to her level." And Bricks says to Maggie "What is your level? Tell me so I can sink or rise to it." That's beautiful writing too, and it shows Brick has had a transformation--something has happened, something has changed. The other ending is awfully defeatist.

The audience was interesting--they laughed at everything. It was very unsettling--yes, Cat is nominally a comedy but it's really more of a Chekovian comedy, not a yukfest. It seemed as though the actors started playing to get laughs as well (at least some of them--JEJ and Terence Howard, certainly) which definitely undercut some of the power of these moments. For example, TH delivered the Skipper monologue, JEJ's next line was something like "are you done?" and he said it very quickly, as though it were a comic line. Of course it got a huge laugh, which completely undermined the power of TH's monologue.

I wish they'd tinted Terence Howard's hair a little redder (like Malcolm X's)--Brick got his nickname from his hair and they cut that reference in the script so the name made no sense.

The four (white) people who sat behind us were apparently annoyed that "the whole play is in Ebonics" (according to Michael). This amused and infuriated me by turns--no, it wasn't in "Ebonics," the entire script was pretty faithful to Tennessee Williams and nothing was rewritten, as far as I can tell (and I know that play very well). If you're referring to the "blaccent," well, the whole cast is black, what did you expect? They sounded great. Morons. The four of them left after the second act.
ceebeegee: (French Quarter in New Orleans)
This looks interesting. I'd love to see Cat again--I missed it the last time it was on Boradway (although Ashley Judd doesn't strike me as Maggie at all). The talent seems good--I LOVE Giancarlo Esposito as Gooper, that sounds perfect although he does seem a little old. (And I had no idea he was in Merrily We Roll Along on Broadway. That means he knows Jason Alexander, who knows Peter--so I am three degrees of separation from GCE, and four from Spike Lee.) Phylicia Ryshad as Big Mama seems off--PR is such an icon of strength, she seems miscast as Big Mama (and I've always seen BM as small and fat) but maybe she's got the range to pull it off. James Earl Jones is a great choice for Big Daddy (although--dude, smile in your picture). I have to say, I'm curious as to how the color casting is going to play. Cat is about a jumped-up white trash plantation family in the South in the '50s, and its dynamics are very specific to that, especially Big Daddy's dynastic pretensions (he's aping the "Gotta have an heir" obsession that WASPs used to have--some still do, although it's much less common now and seen as pretty silly). It would work better for me if they'd just cast Big Daddy with a black actor, because it would add an interesting level to his upward social climb. Another interesting idea would be to set it in New Orleans, since there was a thriving culture of people of color--wealthy and those trying to be. Are they still going to have black servants? Is Maggie still a former beauty queen? Like it or not, in the '50s the Southern black family (in Mississippi yet) that did all these things was virtually non-existent.

(And can I just say how much I love that Anika Noni Rose listed From Justin to Kelly in her bio? You go, girl, embrace the flop! I actually didn't hate that movie.)

I would love to play Maggie.
ceebeegee: (French Quarter in New Orleans)
I just came back from 5 days in North Carolina--I flew down on Saturday and came back Wednesday evening. Oh, I had SUCH a good time. I stayed with my friend Krista (who lives on one end of Chapel Hill) and Doug (who lives on the other end). The weather was absolutely gorgeous--5 perfect days of blue skies and heat and light breezes. I spent a lot of time sleeping in--perhaps I should've gotten off my tush a little more but heck, it was my vacation. The first night Doug and I grilled out on the deck--nothin' like burgers al fresco. I also introduced him to Cheerwine, a local specialty. Sunday Doug was studying for his real estate brokers' exam so I borrowed his car and wandered through Chapel Hill, poking my head into vintage shops and used book stores. Chapel Hill is such a pretty little Southern town, with itty bitty little bungalows and huge mansions with old, old oak trees along the streets. And lots and lots of greenery. Oh, my heart drank it up.

Chapel Hill has some adorable restaurants--one is called the Carolina Brewery and it has a CIA chef serving all sorts of Southern cuisine. Krista and I ate there and I ordered cheese grits topped with shrimp--oh my GOD, was it good. And I got bread puddin' topped with bubbon sauce. So, so, so delicious. Krista and I did some shopping and I got a darlin' little bag, a blue and teal canvas tote. I also picked up a little printed, smocked top for the spring--it'll look so cute with jeans and maybe a cowboy hat. Doug and I ate at a place called Mama Dip's in the middle of Chapel Hill. As fantastic as Carolina Brewery was, this place was better--I think this is the best meal I've had in a long time. I got the chicken-fried steak with gravy with sides of black-eyed peas and baked apples--I was pleased to see they called it chicken-fried, not country-fried, and they served it with regular (i.e., brown) not white gravy. Because that is how my Mother makes it and calls it, and that means it's correct! One bite of this steak and you can die a happy woman--it's beefsteak batter-dipped and deep-fried. SO delicious! For dessert I got chocolate pecan pie--fudgy and dark and rich and heavenly.

It was hard coming back to 50-degree chill and rain...
ceebeegee: (Southwest cactus)
I'm reading a book now called Death in the Delta, about the murder of Emmett Till in 1955. Emmett was a 14-year-old Chicago boy, a black boy, who visited his relatives in August of that year, and on a dare, whistled/made a kidding pass at a white woman in a grocery store. A few days later the woman's husband and his half-brother showed up at the house where the boy was staying, kidnapped him, and his body turned up in the Tallahatchie River a few days after that, horribly mangled. Emmett's mother had the body viewed in an open casket, Jet magazine ran the photos, and all over the world, the spotlight was turned onto the peculiar and lethal customs of the Deep South. Bryant and Milam, the two murderers, were acquitted in a laughably short jury deliberation (less than an hour) despite the overwhelming evidence against them. And a few months later, knowing they had nothing to fear due to double jeopardy, they laid out in detail exactly what they'd done in an interview with Look magazine.

I've done some research on the Till case before, but this book is probably the most in-depth I've ever studied. I knew that Carolyn Bryant didn't tell her husband at first--she'd told her sister-in-law, who was in the back of the store when Emmett interacted with Carolyn, but they agreed not to tell. Unbelievably, it was Emmett's 16-year-old cousin who told the husband. He must've known what would happen. The book speculates it was a combination of adolescent jealousy and poor judgement. (I suppose it could've been from fear of what would happen if he didn't tell--after all, he had to leave there all the time, and if Bryant found out a few months hence, he could've taken it out on him. But still...)

Anyway, knew all that. And I knew that after the case Bryant and Milam were more-or-less shunned by the rest of their (white) community after the case. The book talks about how the white community, when faced with a "threat" (sarcasm) to their sense of supremacy, almost always in the form of the Negro Male Breaching the Sancity of White Womanhood, would ignore class and close ranks against color. But only until the crisis passed. But what I didn't know was that when the case first broke, there actually was some talk in the white community about "this terrible thing" and the Sheriff was actually investigating it legitimately. It was when the national media focused on the case that the Delta became defensive and closed ranks--the Sheriff denied, justified and explained away, and even testified for the defense. With that in mind, it's amazing the case was prosecuted at all, and certainly that an indictment was secured.

The book also examines the link between integration and sex--although white supremacist rhetoric of the time (and all through the 20th century) was obsessed with Protecting the White Female (and hence violently opposed to integration), it really had very little to do with the woman per se, but the White-Woman-as-Property, the woman as an extension if the man (which explains why so many white men had liaisons, consensual or otherwise, with black women--to humiliate the black man). The book talks about when the civil rights movement really starting heating up, feminism was not far behind, and part of both of those movements was when white women started asserting their right to consenting liaisons with anyone they chose, including black men.

Toni Morrison wrote a play about the case, called Dreaming Emmett. I was thinking I'd like to direct this, maybe this winter. The problem is, it's unpublished--I suppose I could write Toni Morrison and ask for a script.
ceebeegee: (Default)
They're reopening the investigation of Emmett Till's murder. One quibble with this story--I'm pretty sure it was the boy's great-uncle, not his uncle. I'll check tonight.

This is good. I read on a board that some people are going to have a problem with this--I guess I can understand why people might think it's better not to dig up old bodies, literally, but a grave wrong was done with the trial of the two men that confessed to it after their acquittal. It was an outright travesty--the defense attorney during his closing argument said to the jury "I want every last Anglo-Saxon one of you to do your duty, and find these men innocent." Just appalling. They "deliberated" for an hour, and part of that time was taken up going to the general store getting sodas--they were trying to drag out the time to make it look as though they'd actually discussed the verdict.

Interestingly, Bryant and Milam were shunned in their community afterwards. Kind of a color-reversed OJ Simpson dynamic.

Rest in peace, Emmett Till, murdered at 14 in Money, MS, 1955. I hope it won't be too much longer before we can administer some justice.
ceebeegee: (Default)
...Grandpa John grew up in the city of Buhminhayem, not on a plantation, although he still had a Mammy, as did my mother's first cousins. My great-grandfather had been rich but lost a lot of his fortune due to some shadiness with his partner. Also, apparently he was cordially disliked by pretty much the entire family--my great-grandmother (Mama Hix) didn't actually divorce him, since that simply wasn't done in those days, but she did leave him. None of my mother's aunts (one of whom went to high school with Zelda Fitzgerald) liked him either. My mom said with the exception of my great-grandfather, her father's family was generally pretty progressive regarding race relations--she said none of them ever opposed blacks' right to vote or anything like that. I hope that's true. They were pretty iconoclastic though--Grandpa John was an actor and they all had bachelor's degrees and beyond. But I don't know any of them, except for my great-aunt Dottie--even Grandpa John died long before I was born.

Mama Hix lived to be 95. I met her as a very young child--I was about 2 and Bart would've been 7. My mom told me a story about us running around, in the yard I guess, and we would run by her on the steps, and she'd extend her hand to us and pretend to shock us, and we'd do it right back to her, laughing, and she told my mom how she hated passive children. 95. Wow.
ceebeegee: (Default)
I'm watching a movie on TV right now--I think it came out in '84. It's a TV miniseries about the Kennedy administration--Martin Sheen is JFK, some guy who played the prosecutor in the Farrah Fawcett TV movie about Diane Downs, "Small Sacrifices," plays RFK and Blair Brown is Jackie. What I like about this movie is what I liked about the movie The American President--they both show the sausage-making process of legislation and the executive position. How deals get made, how power is utilized, how an executive has to balance political concerns with what's right and must be done. The movie devotes a lot of time to the civil rights movement. They showed the Freedom Riders trying to get a bus out of some city in the South (Birmingham?)--Greyhound doesn't want to do it, and RFK literally has to order the Greyhound manager to drive them out. Grudgingly, Greyhound drives them to Montgomery where a bunch of whites, mostly male but some well-dressed females, are waiting, and just...savage them.

It's really hard to watch stuff like this. I love my background--I love that my grandfather was from Buhminhayem and my great-grandfather from Jackson, Miss'ssippi, and I have Hix relatives all over 'Tlanta, and Bartons in Magnolia, La., and Bartlett relatives in Nawlins. I love the food, the music, the accents, the land. I am proud to call myself a Southerner. But this...savagery...is part and parcel of that heritage. It's just awful to watch. I hate it that those people share anything with me. I know my grandfather was pretty evolved for his time--my mother tells a story about how when he was in the Army during WWII, he socialized with black Southerners because they were fellow countrymen to him. He got shit for it, but he'd rather hang out with another Southerner of whatever color than a Yankee. He was a hardcore Southerner but to him it was about regional pride and love of the homeland, not race. Growing up with that story, maybe that's why I can feel that love of the South doesn't have to equate to racism, or even love of the Confederacy. Grandpa John of course was also an actor, which can induce evolution, if that makes sense. Because Grandpa John didn't grow up in a particularly evolved atmosphere--he lived on a plantation, he had a Mammy, and as ashamed as I am to say it, my great-grandfather was in the Klan. I know that Grandpa John was born very late in my great-grandfather's life--my mother never really knew her grandfather because of that. Also I think there was some family rift--certainly Grandpa John didn't get any of that family money. *shrug*

I don't know. I don't know how much this stuff touches me. I don't believe in the concept of the sins of the father are visited upon the child, and a shared racial stain and stuff like that. But watching this, and watching the thing on Emmett Till on the History Channel a couple of weeks ago--I was just horrified, and very, very upset. I physically want to push those people away from me--because in some spiritual way, we are kin. We are white Southerners. I felt shame watching this stuff. I want to say, I am a Southerner, and I am nothing like you. That's not my heritage. That's not what I mean when I talk about the South. How can you do that? How can you treat other human beings that way? Especially Emmett Till--he was a baby, he was a child, 14 years old. That's a human being--he's your brother, we are all brothers and sisters under God.
ceebeegee: (Default)
I'm reading a book right now called The Jews of Primetime by David Zurawik, about how Jews have been represented, by Jews (since there is a huge Jewish presence on the executives of network TV) and how they employed self-censorship either to supress Jewish themes or simplify them to easy jokes based on stereotypes. The secondary theme of this is the "self-hating Jew"--are the Jews of TV self-hating because they can mine their culture for humor turned inward, or is this healthy? So far I've read through the sections on Rhoda, Friends, Will and Grace and Seinfeld, the latter of which was originally passed on by Brandon Tarkitoff (Jewish) who thought the show was "too New York, too Jewish." The whole book is very interesting.

Last week I skipped through Queen Noor's autobiography, A Leap of Faith. Interesting but really one-sided re: the Arab-Israeli conflict. She just keeps hammering home this theme of Israeli aggression and ignoring or trivializing Arab on Jewish violence--suicide bombers aren't mentioned at all, Munich '72 rates a barely passing reference. The constant putdowns of Israeli media are annoying and unnecessary--eg., she's talking about a heart incident her husband had--"typically, Israeli radio kept saying he'd had a heart attack." Whatthefuckever, LISA. (She talks about her giving her mother "license" to mistakenly call her "Lisa" after she'd been renamed "Noor" in the wake of her marriage, conversion to Islam, and ascension to the throne. But after awhile she demanded to be called "Noor." Jeez--that woman carried you for nine months and bore you. I think she can call you pretty much whatever she wants.) The most interesting part is when she talks about the Palestinian uprising in the early '70s, when Palestinian terrorists tried to overthrow the government. Very very interesting account, and she wasn't even there yet--she heard the story from other members of the royal family.

One part that annoyed me especially was when she's talking about the Six Day War, and how Israel won because of their superior arms buildup and equipment, but really, Jordan had the better soldiers--better-trained, "more courageous." Wow, LISA. Israel must have tanks capable of driving themselves and planes capable of flying themselves if one tiny country can beat THREE others, SURROUNDING them. Get over it, LISA--you lost. Israel played you and Syria and Egypt and won. And yes, sorry, they did indeed have much better soldiers. They kicked your asses up and down the Arabian peninsula.

There's a line in Florence King's book Southern Ladies and Gentlemen where she talks about the impact the Six-Day War had on Southern good ol' boy sensibilities--"I doubt if the world has ever seen such a rapid cease-fire in anti-Semitism. I heard boy after good ol' boy say things like 'By dern, them Jew boys shore can fight!' One man I knew seriously recommended Congress pass a law giving Moshe Dayan US citizenship, and make him Secretary of Defense. His reasoning: 'That one-eyed bastid would wipe anyone off the map whut gave us trouble.'"
ceebeegee: (Midsummer)
The Shakespeare showcase is tonight. Duncan, Jason and Paula will be there--yay! There's a champagne reception afterward and then I'm sure we'll get something to eat nearby. I love performing in the Village; I feel very close to the spirit of my grandmother.

Julie said last night that she wants to do The Last Night of Ballyhoo, which is fantastic. I'll be playing Sunny and I think Julie wants to play Boo. I really like this play. I seem to be drawn to what are generally regarded lesser plays by great playwrights--for example, I passionately love The Crucible, which is not considered the great work that Death of a Salesman. Uhry's work is so interesting--who would've thought a whole body of work (Ballyhoo, Driving Miss Daisy, Parade) could be written about Jews in the South? Who even knew they existed? I love Judaism and have Jewish relatives, and even I didn't know there were so many Southern Jews.

I was talking with someone at work today who's Jewish about how very assimilated the family is in Ballyhoo. I couldn't understand how people who self-identify as Jewish could not know what Pesach is, or its attendant traditions. Sunny has a line, talking about the big party--"Ballyhoo is asinine. It's a bunch of dressed-up Jews sitting around, wishing they could kiss their elbows and turn into Episcopalians." And I wonder, why can't they? It's your belief system that makes you an Episcopalian (not a WASP--that's a certain kind of Episcopalian), not your ethnicity. But Katie said being Jewish is more than a belief system, it's a culture which I get but isn't all the cultural baggage attached to the religion? If these people don't really know what Pesach is, they probably don't cook much kugel or gefilte fish. Or maybe they do--the whole mindset is just amazing to me. I think a lot of it can be explained by the time and the place. Even now the South is very conformist, and the '30s were so much more so, even in a sinister way. Even other Christians such as Roman Catholics stick out in the South (read Pat Conroy for more on this) and Episcopalians--well, they don't exactly stick out but they're not the mainstream the way hardcore Protestants are. (Virginia and New Orleans are the exceptions to this--RCs are very prevalent in NO, and Virginia is Hunt Country USA.)

Such a cool play. I'm really happy we're doing it.

How Cool!

Sep. 25th, 2003 06:12 pm
ceebeegee: (heart)
My dad sent this to my brothers and me yesterday.

Brothers donate fire horn to Jackson

By Clay Harden

One hundred and fifty years after Thomas Green was presented a silver Tiffany fire horn for founding Jackson's first volunteer fire department, his great-great-grandsons gave it back to the city.

They did so on the day their mother, Nancy Elizabeth Wyatt-Brown, would have turned 88.

"The horn had been passed around our family for years," said Wharton Green, 65
[my Uncle Chip], a retired radio broadcaster from Stuart, Fla. "My mother wanted us to take it home, and it works out perfectly we can do so as we celebrate her birthday."

Wharton Green and Harold Green, 63
[my Uncle Metty], a retired advertising executive from San Miguel De Allende, Mexico, visited Jackson for the first time.

Barton Green, 61, of Andover, N.H.
[my dad], flew into Jackson many times before retiring as a Delta Airlines pilot. But on this trip, he joined his brothers to explore family roots.

"I didn't know our great-great-grandfather had anything to do with Jackson until we became aware of the horn after I retired," said Barton Green.
[I have no idea why he said this--we've always known about the Jackson branch of the family.] "It makes this visit to Jackson more significant and gratifying."

Thomas Green made his mark in Jackson in many ways. He founded the first volunteer department in his parlor in 1839 and paid $5,000 for the first engine for Jackson Fire Company No. 1 called "The Thomas Green" in his honor. He served as the chief engineer until 1876.

A businessman, he served as an alderman, helped found the city's first public school, served as a trustee for the Mississippi School for the Blind and was active in the Methodist Church.

His influence has also been felt through his descendants.

Thomas Green's son, Wharton
[my great-grandfather], the lead architect for New York City, designed the city's subway system, Idlewyld Airport (now JFK) and the 1939 New York World's Fair.

Wharton's son, Wharton Green, Jr.
[my Grandpa Butch], later gained fame for inventing nylon carpet. He is the father of the three brothers who brought the fire horn home.

How cool is that! My great-grandfather designed the IRT! I knew about Idlewyld but not about the IRT. LBJ took the IRT down to 4th Street U.S.A....

I also found this online, written by my Uncle Chip:

Grandpa Butch

My grandmother Nina

I love their biographies. They sound exactly like what they were--beautiful, cocktail-sipping, F. Scott Fitzgerald characters.
ceebeegee: (Default)
Yesterday in Slate, their advice columnist responded, again, to the question of whether a bridal couple should ask for money.

Oh my God. I can't begin to say how completely tacky I think it is to ask for anything, much less money. I just shudder. I know many people give money which bothers me enough because it puts a financial value on what you're giving, in addition to making people who can't afford to give much feel like shit, because of course the couple are going to notice right away who gave more, and less. But to ask? To expect it? I don't have a problem with gift registries as long as they're discreet--not included with the wedding invitations. But money? Too, too tacky. Why don't I just skip the wedding entirely and send a check? That's what you really want, isn't it? I remember one snotty bride writing in to Carolyn Hax saying "if you're invited you have to send a gift, even if you don't go." You have to send a gift? Fuck off, greedy person. Get your hands out of other people's wallets.

This was great:

Good thing times have changed. Most ethnic traditions include monetary gifts at a wedding. In fact, any other type of gift is out of the norm. "Physical" gifts are usually presented by the family IN ADDITION to a monetary gift. I come from an upper middle-class, well-educated family, and we have never gone to a wedding that has not been this way.

Um, not my ethnic tradition. People in the South would faint if people asked for money. And justifying something by claiming to be from an "upper middle-class, well-educated family" is pretty transparent--your argument should speak for itself. My family would disown me if I asked for money at my wedding. And if we're going to get snotty, my family is descended from a Signer. "Times have changed..."--the standard for every attempt to hijack etiquette to suit your own urges.

This was the best:

So they think it's "tacky" to ask for money? Well, we think it's worse to make people spend precious time getting gifts we don't need or want.

You're right! You're so right! So rather than impose, how about telling your guests no gifts are needed at all? Oh but wait, that would cut into your "take." And I love the reasoning of "we're older, we have everything we need already." Bingo. So, you don't NEED anything. Why are you asking for something then? Or rather, expecting anything? What is it about weddings that turn some people into grabbing, entitlement-minded monsters? Ugh. Just UGH.
ceebeegee: (Default)
Out of something like 15 people called in, easily half have had to change their audition slot, or cancel at the last minute, or never bothered to confirm the audition slot for which they submitted. Idiots.

And in other news--few things in the world are quite so cringe-inducing as a bunch of bankers desperately trying to boost their sagging sense of masculinity by blustering about how they're going duck-hunting. Jesus Christ in a motorcycle. You know, you can take a pill for that now--you don't have to kill an innocent animal.
ceebeegee: (Default)
Lionel Richie is still pretty damn hot. Puffy cheeks and all.

I've been thinking a lot about the South this week, triggered by rediscovering Parade and being inspired to do some Internet research on the Leo Frank lynching. I even found a .pdf document that shows a handwritten list of many of the known participants--as far as I can tell, none of my relatives were involved, thank God. (No Hixes, anyway. But then my mother's family has always intermarried with Jews.) I was thinking about the exchange on the OTB board where I was trying to explain Southern culture to moppet. I could have said--the South is a product of the Romantic area, rather than the Rational one. At Sweet Briar we had the honor code, basically a more flowery version of "I will not lie, cheat or steal." We had to memorize it--during orientation we had to write it down word for word, comma for comma. And this made it possible for us to have unproctored exams and even take home exams, because the administrators had faith in the integrity of our word. Honor was a living, relevant, meaningful concept to them and us. And colleges all over the South have honor codes--I know UVa does, as well as W&L and VMI.

I can't remember if they had one at Mount Holyoke or not. If they did, it still wasn't drilled into us the way it was at Sweet Briar, where it was posted in every classroom, and where we had to sign "I pledge..." to every test and paper.

God, I miss the South sometimes. As dark and terrible as its history is, it's still so beautiful. Warm, wet nights and magnolia trees outside my dorm window, filling the room with a sweet smell and trains going by in the distance...

Profile

ceebeegee: (Default)
ceebeegee

May 2020

S M T W T F S
     12
3456 789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
31      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Feb. 8th, 2026 07:10 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios