Shakespeare, Hawthorne, Poe and I Haven't Written Much Lately, and at Least I'm Not Dead

Was my last blog post really in January? Seems impossible.

But then, consider that I moved in February (and got sick), created a new FB page (Life in Georgia, you should go check it out), and have been doing a lot of things so that I have things to write about. Sometimes I even write about the things. Sometimes I share when I write about the things.

April was Camp NaNo, but the first week, my son and I drove back to AR for Spring Break, a birthday party, several friend visits, and a speaking engagement. We drove and only lost an hour, but I felt like I had jet lag that cost me another week. I made it to PTA events -- which is probably why I'm chairing a committee -- too tired to act like I didn't want it. And I do want to do well. I want my kid to be proud that I'm around before those teenage hormones fully come into play. But I only showed up to make adult friends that might have kids my son is friends with. Obviously I have learned nothing about the typical PTA... (I have met a few people that now know me by name. So far they seem really nice. I'm sure they are also not typical PTA of the type terrible tales are written!)

 (Harper Valley PTA clip that I don't own -- all rights to their rightful owners, etc, etc.)

I BETA-read a friend's book in late March and handed it off in April. I can't reveal anything yet, but people are going to love it. Here's one hint (see image):


That's it -- that's all you get! And it isn't enough -- I promise!!

Anyway...











I met with many of the young authors during my Spring Break visit.

Aren't they a wonderful looking group? And don't get me started on the talent!  Ian's working on book #3, Cadence a new series, Bella book #3 and Ari book #2. #proudteacher

I collected the BETA readings of A Muse Meant over Spring Break. I edited for the last time (cross fingers) and handed it off to one last BETA reader. I'm excited about that.

My son and I started a story about the explanation and evolution of mermaids, and I'm working on that -- a very little. IDK if this cover works, but I kinda liked it:

I'm worried about all the tales I feel like I'm abandoning, and think I may have found a loophole to do a short story collection for a bunch of random fantasies I've half-baked. I wrote an intro and shared it with one of my young authors -- she took it and ran with a new dragon story that has not one thing to do with my introduction (as I had intended it). But she's got a new wonderful story in the works and her giddiness was catching. So I told her if all the young authors wanted to add shorts or if we wanted to write a story together -- whatever works and sounds like fun for as long as it IS fun!

And I have a Scavenger Hunt to arrange. "It'll be easy!" I said. "There will be zombies!" I said.

I say a lot of stupid things.

I did not create this Zombie Bingo Card. I was thinking that something LIKE this would make finding items out of order easy. We shall see.

I have been and done more things. I have loads of half-written blog posts that I need to finish, type, and post.

One thing at a time, right? Sure... Let me know how that works out for you...

No, I Don't Wish We Could Go Back to the Days...

People and nostalgia are funny. And not always in a good way.

I've seen several memes wishing we could return to the days where kids played Cowboys and Indians.

And then there was the horrible holiday photo of the female family members tied up with Christmas lights and with their mouths taped shut while the guys rejoiced and held up a sign saying "Peace on Earth."

THEY say kids these days have no respect. And generally, THEY are the same people demanding for others to say "Merry CHRISTmas," not "Happy Holidays."

So who has no respect?

Back in the day, we thought it was perfectly OK for a white kid to paint his face black and be Chubby Checker. I'm sure there have been days where people with darker skin tones wished they could white wash to get a better job, to protect their kids from police brutality, to get better housing. Not permanently, because the goal is to be accepted as is. But on the days when some things just needed to go right and didn't.

Back in the day -- a day before my day -- people owned people. We've gotten past that, but not very far past. Because workers in our most trusted professions -- teachers and nurses -- fear losing their jobs to outsourcing. They fear going to the bathroom or taking a sick day. These people care for our sick and educate our children, and their employers (up to and including lawmakers) defend corporations and add difficulties to the lives of these individuals that we could not function without. And what does the average person do about it? Nothing.

If American women stood in solidarity with each other the way women have in Africa and Norway and every other civilized (and some not) country on this planet, we could achieve the goal of gender equality in weeks rather than lifetimes. But we don't. People have nostalgia for "Leave it to Beaver," failing to appreciate that June Cleaver was a paid actress (Barbara Billingsley) who had two young boys at home or school while she was on set with "The Beaver." And we take two steps back for every inch forward.

Back in the day we sat Indian style and had one or two pages about the Trail of Tears in our history books. We used brown paper grocery bags to mimic buckskin clothing and we designed tee-pees. Maybe we painted our faces and whooped a lot. Today we still have our young people dress up as Pilgrims and Natives for Thanksgiving feasts. We don't talk about what Columbus and other explorers and settlers did to indigenous people in the US until our children are much older. We neglect the whole truth.

We lie.

And then we wonder why young people do not respect us?

We talk to our children about racism and being colorblind, but we haven't stopped telling racist jokes and laughing at caricatures. We haven't stopped trying to explain why black kids deserve to be shot by cops, but affluenza is a legitimate legal defense, and white young (and not so young) men who go on killing sprees live to stand trial. We accept the bull crap that it is a difference of opinion that is the reason so many people fear Muslims that Muslim kids are afraid to be in public American schools. I know, because I'm friends with their parents or their friends' parents. It's not something being made up to garner sympathy. And it's ridiculous.

And sexism? I could go on for days. People act like boys have no self control and they shame and police what girls and women wear.

Then they call out the sissies (like me) who complain that the choir sings way too many love songs. Back in my day, it was "Silhouettes in the Shade" and "Going to the Chapel." Today, it's Bieber's "Mistletoe" and the revived old song about Cindy with the refrain "Get along home/Cindy,Cindy/I'll marry you someday." It's every Disney movie (and the vast majority of popular films, period) with a major section devoted to the handsome prince as love interest. It's the women's roles that are still lacking. It's how when Jennifer Lawrence openly discusses how much less she made than her male co-stars in a film -- people criticize HER because she made an exorbitant sum in the first place. It's the presidential candidate who's on the record saying if his daughter wasn't his daughter, he might be dating her. Sure, it's just a joke. So were the girls tied up in holiday lights. I'm not laughing.

Anyone else see a pattern?

It is about respect. It is about being KIND and COMPASSIONATE to others. And people who want respect not giving it.

I didn't create this. These are someone else's words. But I agree with these words.

I feel confident most of the people posting these memes or making these curriculum choices aren't bad people. Maybe not even racist people. But they do, some of them, want to keep Muslims out. They do want to limit immigration. They want to make it harder for people to be here and be successful here. Often in direct opposition to their own histories of immigration and success.

Still, I know they wouldn't ever say "I wish we could go back to the days when black people had no rights." I feel confident they would never say "I wish we could have another Trail of Tears for those uppity Indians" or "we should round up all the Japanese again -- don't like those squinty eyes." (Sorry, George.)

But that's where backwards takes us. Pining for those terrible good old days is asking a lot of people to go back to being bugs on the windshield of life. And I'm very happy not to be a bug, thank you very much. Those jokes -- those memes that are just meant to be funny -- those songs -- they make a pattern. They drop an anchor toward something in the past and our entire boat starts moving backward and sinking.

People should very much want to move forward. To create, to innovate, to work together towards common goals. To respect differences of opinion. To be kind.

Ribbing on our friends is one thing. Our friends can rib right back. And we get to decide if there is a limit to that. We get to say. And our kids are watching us so they will know.

However, if the way we treat others -- those who can do nothing to us -- our subordinates at work, our students, our teachers, our janitors, our caretakers, our (dare I say it) food service providers -- makes our kids stop respecting us, then we deserve their vitriol.

I want to keep my Apple products by the son of a Syrian refugee (Steve Jobs), my Dave Matthews Band music (he's from South Africa), my Sammy Sosa baseball (Dominican Republic), even my memories of Back to the Future (Michael J. Fox lived his first 18 years in Canada, don'tcha know?). Eek! Those are all male examples!  And I want to know and be influenced by Malala, and Leymah Gbowee, and Stana Katic, and Sandra Oh. And I want to be influenced by my good friends who aren't famous (yet) They're from the US -- and Mexico, Eritrea, Nepal, Peru, Malaysia, Egypt, and the Middle East. Their children are raising the bar for the rest of their classmates in all sorts of ways. I want to see more people working hard like that. Working smart like that. 

And I want my kid to respect me. So I know I have to earn it.



Phyl Campbell is Author, Mother, Dreamer. She writes on a variety of topics: Education, Women/Feminism/Equality, Book Reviews, and Writing. Her books are available on Amazon. If you'd like to see her speak at an upcoming function, contact her through her website or Facebook page.

Lacking the Appropriate Holiday Spirit

I'm certainly lacking the appropriate holiday spirit. I'm too pissed at people thinking the world should stop in recognition of only their holiday. I'm tired of trying to please people because it's Christmas when the same people don't give a damn about me or my family any other time of the year (including this one). I want to be nice, but I have limits, and they shorten each year.

So the following are two articles I wrote for Wikinut because I felt writing on there allowed me to get some things off my chest. And I thought I'd get paid for them. (I've made less than $10 since 2013 for my efforts there.) So I need to move all those articles (well over 100) to my blog and get them sorted. Fun, fun, fun.

When I Say I'm Unchurched

This is another article that isn't as rambling, but I still need to re-write and re-post. I tried for a while not to let my website and FB author page be a platform for my religious views, as I felt sure I would lose the few followers I had. But now I have come to realize that the more I speak my truth, the more I hear people respond that I never heard before. Perhaps I am too "in your face." I can be more tactful and sometimes I am. But there is also a time to be the wolf that defends the sheep. There is a time when being silent or appearing so allows other wolves to descend without anyone keeping them in check. I just can't do that anymore.

A Handful of Change

I need to edit the rambling out of this. I'm posting this here and now in hopes to find the link later, do a better job of editing what should have been about five articles, and re-posting it/them here on my blog.