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Friday, November 6, 2009

Friday Mieography


How about another Margaret?

Margaret Mead was the eldest of five children born to a Quaker family, in Pennsylvania. Her father was a professor of finance at the Wharton School of the University of Pa, and her mother was a sociologist, who studied Italian immigrants.
Her family moved frequently, and because of this, her early education was kind of fractured, she was both home schooled, and traditional schooled. She was accepted at De Pauw University, where she studied for one year, then transitioned over to Barnard College, where she earned a Bachelor's degree, in 1923. In 1924 she obtained her Masters from Columbia University, and in 1925, she set out to do fieldwork in Polynesia. She came back from that, and ended up working at the American Museum of Natural History in NYC, as an assistant curator, while she worked on her Ph.D, which she got from Columbia in 1929.
She was married to Luther Cressman, a theological student during this time. They divorced in 1928. She often referred to this marriage as "my student marriage". She next married a New Zealand native, Reo Fortune. He was also an anthropologist. They were married until 1935. Interestingly, she describes this marriage as more passionate. She had been told she could not have children, but when, in 1935 a different doctor told her that she might be able to have children, they divorced.
She married, again, in 1936 (no grass grew under her feet), and kept this man, (a British anthropologist named Gregory Bateson) until 1950. They had a daughter, Mary, who grew up to be an anthropologist, as well. Interestingly, Dr. Benjamin Spock was Mary's pediatrician, and Margarets views, and experiences from observing other cultures, and implimenting some of what she liked (such as breastfeeding on the baby's demand, instead of a set schedule) influenced Dr. Spock, and ended up in his writings. Her husband, whom she loved dearly, left her in 1950, and she was heartbroken. They remained friends, and she took his picture with her on every trip, and even had it at her deathbed
She also had a close, and, many claim (including her daughter Mary) a sexual relationship with Ruth Benedict. She never outwardly proclaimed her bisexual ness, but said, instead that it is to be expected that an individuals sexual orientation may evolve throughout life. She had a second female partner, Rhoda Metraux, also an anthropologist. They combined their professional lives, as well. Their personal (romantic) letters were printed in book form in 2006.
As far as her career, she did much. She was a curator of ethnology at the Natural History Museum from 46-69, she taught at Columbia as an adjunct professor from 54-78, she was the professor of anthropology and the chair of the Division of Social Sciences at Fordham University from 68-70, she founded their anthropology department. She has also held numerous positions in the American Association for the Advancement of Science.
She also wrote some important research books, her first about Samoa, "Coming of Age in Samoa", which was very controversial when it was published, in 1928, after she had spent time there studying. She also wrote a book called "Sex and the Temperament in Three Primative Societies, where she documented female dominancy in some of these tribes, shocking the then male dominant world.
She also spent much time researching the European Shtetl, this study financed by the American Jewish Committee. She spent much time interviewing many European born Jews about their family structures and experiences. Some blame this study for the "Jewish Mother" stereotype.
Margaret died, of Pancreatic Cancer in 1978, and is buried in Buckingham, Pa.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Unease.....

sometimes, it never goes away.


I guess this is the time for my brain to revisit boyfriends past.
Honestly, usually once they are past, I don't usually give them much thought, they are PAST for a reason.
But somethings, just don't fade.
Up until a bit over three years ago, I had never had a boyfriend who scared me. Sure, I had a few end bad, with modicums of animosity, but, I was never scared.
Thus, I am sure I was fairly naive about that, uh, aspect.
I will actually call him out by name, because, frankly, he's not smart enough to find my blog, and if he did, well, more power to him. He may scare me, but he won't limit me.
Anyhow. His name was Jeff. Commonly referred to now as "The Village Drunk". (I have also dated The Village Idiot.)
I knew, when I met him, that he was probably going to be a problem. On our first date, he drank a lot of beer, then, came to my apartment, and drank more.
Still, he had personality, he had a job, and at the time he seemed well, stable. Oh, how little I knew.
Within short order he lost his apartment, and went to live with family, about 3 hours away from where I was. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt, and so I did, and, he'd come up here every weekend, and usually end up passed out on my couch each night. More of his stuff showed up in my apartment, including a fax machine where he got work orders. After about a month of this, bottles of Jack Daniels started showing up, too. And disappearing as quickly as they showed up.
Then, we started having to go out only to places that served hard liquor. I found myself drinking more than I had in a long time. And it did not feel good. I wasn't happy. I recognized my own drinking was increasing, and cut myself off. He didn't care, at this point I was a pretty handy designated driver for him.
He was so drunk on Thanksgiving, around my FAMILY that he went out to his van and passed out. I was super embarrassed. I was searching for the person that I thought he was. I KNEW I wasn't going to change him. The "relationship" was surprisingly platonic, (booze is a serious mood killer, at least booze in excess is...) for which I am forever grateful. He does not have intimate knowledge of me.
It blew up badly, while he was drunk (no surprise) and involved him getting behind the wheel and ME threatening to call the cops if he did. Cell phone in hand. I had to work that night, and went to work shook up, but resolute. He slept his drunk off in my apartment, then left. I never saw him again.
But I heard from him. He had a fun time, calling my phone, both cell and land line, threatening me, telling me I needed anger management classes, and wanting his stuff. One night, while I as at work, he called my phone, every 15 minutes, for over 6 hours. I bet my neighbors were thrilled. I changed my numbers, changed my locks, and put all his stuff out on my stoop for his collection. That REALLY pissed him off, let me tell you. That, and the fact that I refused to go have dinner with him after he picked it up.
"We could have been friends" he said.
"Not on your life" I thought, glad I had changed the locks.
Because of the nature of his threats, I looked over my shoulder for weeks. He knew where I lived, where I worked, and what I drove. I knew what he drove. A windowless, beat up white work van. Every time I saw one, it scared me. I envisioned a drunk Jeff, carrying out his threats. I saw a white van at work one evening and got so scared I called in for security to walk me in.
I gradually got over that. I met MM a year later, and, well, things have obviously progressed. I've moved, I drive a different car, I have a different (and much happier) life. I occasionally reference Jeff, especially to show Monkey Girl that we don't settle for unstable men. We don't accept this kind of behavior. But I never really sit and think about it.
Unless a dirty white work van shows up in my rear view mirror.
And a part of me still thinks
Did he find me?

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Wordless Wednesday

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Creepy old man!

Way back when in 67
I was the dandy
Of Gamma Chi
Sweet things from Boston
So young and willing
Moved down to Scarsdale
And where the hell am I

Hey Nineteen
No we can't dance together
No we can't talk at all
Please take me along
When you slide on down

Hey Nineteen
That's 'Retha Franklin
She don't remember the Queen of Soul
It's hard times befallen
The sole survivors
She thinks I'm crazy
But I'm just growing old

Hey Nineteen
No we got nothing in common
No we can't talk at all
Please take me along
When you slide on down

The Cuervo Gold
The fine Colombian
Make tonight a wonderful thing
We can't dance together
No we can't talk at all


Heard this in the car today. I had forgotten about this one....
Creepy old man!

Monday, November 2, 2009

I give love a bad name

I was running some errands the other day, listening to this radio station, (call letters are Jack, ironically).

It usually plays a fairly decent mix of music, though MM has warned me that they like to play blocks of Bon Jovi on monday mornings. (So I avoid monday mornings). So far, I had heard some good stuff, like "Last Dance For Mary Jane", "Just Like Heaven" by the Cure, and other things. Its a very eclectic radio station.
After a commercial, they started playing, well. Bon Jovi. "You Give Love A Bad Name." And bang. There it was. Suddenly, I was a junior in high school again, riding the school bus, listening to all the kids giggle because a boy I had broken up with was singing this AT me.
He was bitter, I guess. But let me give the back story.
I never liked this boy.
Sure, he was nice enough. He sure liked me. My friends poked and pestered me about him, constantly. His name was Marcus. Pick pick pick, nagging me to give him a chance. I did what a lot of kids do, I gave in. I dated him, because my friends so desperately wanted me to. Stupid.
Well, it lasted less than 2 weeks. During that two weeks, I was gifted with candy, stuffed animals, even a dozen roses. For no good reason. (found out later he stole the money to buy me those things.) I was hung upon, never left alone. Pestered, to death. Called constantly. Never ending.
At the end of one of those phone calls, he told me he loved me.
I said
No you don't. ( I was seventeen. I knew the truth, even if HE didn't)
the next day I broke up with him
and that was the day I gave love a bad name.
And now? How many years later? (almost 23)
I still think of Marcus when I hear that damned song.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Friday Mieography


You could call this woman by many names.

Her birth name was Lucille Wood Smith. She was born on Halloween, btw.
Her name was changed, when she was an infant to Frances Octavia Smith.
She would go on to take the stage name Dale Evans.....

Whatever you want to call her, she had an interesting life.
She was married at age fourteen, and bore her first child at fifteen. She was divorced by seventeen, and remarried, that same year. That marriage also failed, and she married another. It also did not go well. Divorce number three.
Then, she met, and married Roy Rogers. It was his THIRD marriage. They were married for fifty-one years; she helped raise the three children he'd had with his second wife, whom had passed away.
Her singing career started at a radio station where she worked as a secretary. She sang jazz, swing, and big band music. She eventually landed a screen test, and was contracted with 20th. Century Fox. The studio didn't want her known as a single mother, so they touted her as the unmarried supporter of her teenaged brother, (whom was actually her son, Tommy). It wasn't until she was married to Roy that she was able to clear up the misconception.
She and Roy had a child, Robin, who was born with Down's Syndrome. During this era, parents of Down's kids were encouraged to place their children into institutions, Roy and Dale would have none of that, they took Robin home, instead. Sadly, she died, just before her second birthday. Robin inspired Dale to write her bestseller, "Angel Unaware". She wanted to change people's public perceptions of of developmentally disabled children. There is a training center in in Texas now named after her. She and Roy went on to adopt two more children after Robin died.
She also had a very successful television career with Roy, co- starring in The Roy Rogers show, where she rode her trusty horse, Buttermilk. Dale wrote the song "Happy Trails".
She is also known for being very public, and outspoken about her Christianity.
During her career, she was in more than thirty films, and wrote over two hundred songs. She has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and is in numerous Hall's of Fame. She died of Congestive Heart Failure two and a half years after Roy died.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

sugar high

Most of us, at this particular time of year (myself included) find ourselves partaking of more candy than we usually would. I firmly believe Halloween brings out the sugar tooth in all of us. Except those who have no sugar tooth at all. I've met a few like that, they are few and far between.

The other day, we of the Mustang household decided to go see Where The Wild Things Are. (I am not ready, really, to talk about the movie. Don't know if I will be).
We decided, wisely, not to break the bank on candy purchased from the theater, and went into one of the local candy and ice cream shoppes instead. (Yes, it is a shoppe). MM and MG are into all things sour, and made their selections accordingly. I hemmed and hawed, as usual, looking for what I wanted.
What I did find, though, was something I hadn't had in a LONG time.
Zots.
I found Zots.
Remember those?

They make pop rocks taste like child's play.
Zots are brightly flavored candy that have a tiny hole drilled into them. The secret to a zot is what comes out of that hole. Fizzy, fizzy (probably chemical) goodness slowly oozes out, fizzing on your tongue, making a constant, fizzy party in your mouth.
Of course I bought numerous Zots (and some tropical starbursts, too), and as we walked down the street, towards our movie, we all had a fizzy party in our mouthes..