Here's a feel good book just in time for the election season. But it's more than just that. Perkins weaves together an exquisite cultural sensitivity into her Presidential election drama, drawing on personal experience and what I can only describe as a really big heart. The characters: An adopted South Asian teen. A flower child mom who is a church-going political liberal! Her husband: the kindest, most tolerant Republican Presidential candidate (since Abe Lincoln), but not a church goer. The opponent: Hill sans Bill, with a handsome son to boot. But the best character of all is Uncle Mohamed. I can't wait for him to reappear in the sequel.
And yes, there are "bad guys"--an over-the-hill (at 30!) media know-it-all, and the usual paparazzi.
While marketed as a teen novel, ADULTS WILL REALLY WANT TO READ THIS as an antidote to the evening news. Perkins is clearly anchored in reality, even as she tries to bring out the best in (nearly all) of her characters.
First Daughter, Extreme American Makeover, by Mitali Perkins
http://www.amazon.com/review/product/014241154X/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt?%5Fencoding=UTF8&showViewpoints=1
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Sweet sixteen, an American folktale
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall SEE GOD"
This is a fairy tale about Kirsten. Not the doll, but a real, live girl, now grown into a young woman.
When she was little, all sorts of things were said about how cute and special she was. "Could she be any cuter…" was a typical comment. When she was a little older, people started saying:
"Oh, you have your mommy’s BIG Beautiful eyes." Older still: "Oh, you’re going to be skinny like your daddy." But there was one really strange thing about this otherwise perfectly normal girl. She had never seen a mirror! All she knew about her appearance was what people said about her. Her mommy and daddy told everyone: "Keep Kirsten away from mirrors, and shiny things where she might see herself." So, everyone did.
One day Kirsten was taking a walk in the woods, all by herself. The trees formed a great, dark canopy overhead, but she felt perfectly safe, as if in the most beautiful cathedral in the world. She came to a small pool, mysteriously still. There was a large flat rock along one edge. Kirsten thought. "Oh, if I stood on the rock and looked straight down, I could see myself! My beautiful, blonde hair. My big eyes. And how trim and healthy I look. Dare I? DARE I DO IT? I shall!"
So, looking all around her to make sure no one would see what she was doing, she stepped onto the rock, curled her toes carefully over its edge, and looked down. She saw something in the pool. "It must be my reflection, from head to toe!" But…..
There was no blonde hair, but a billowing cloud of very dark hair. Eyes, but not at all like her mother’s. A large, boldly shaped nose. The figure was very broad, and very very tall. "Is that what I look like???" She asked aloud in surprise. To her utter amazement, a deep, soft, kind voice answered. "Yes, it is, because YOU look like ME!"
"And WHO are you??" she shot back.
"I’m the One who made you, and I made you in My Image"
"But you’re a man! And I’m not! ‘Cause, well, I just had my period, you know …."
"I know everything about you"
"You do?? Well, you’re a man and I’m not. Tell me about THAT"
"Thank you for asking. I’ll try to tell you as much as you can understand in this life. First, I’m NOT a male of the human species. No testosterone, and, trust me, none of the relevant anatomy."
"I trust you, I trust you! But go on…"
"Well, I’m not the ‘way up there, won’t touch the earth’ kind of God that other religions talk about. So I had to allow you to imagine me in human form. Androgynous would NEVER do; too different, too impersonal."
"So, why aren’t you a woman! What’s wrong with us!"
"I thought about that for a long, long time. But if I was a big, powerful woman, people just wouldn’t get it. Especially the guys. Trust me, please. But you do resemble me, really, in all the ways that are important…."
"Oh." (Pauses) "But….there’s still one thing…""Yes, my child?""Wait, I figured it out"
"You were going to say that I’m holding a shining sword in my left hand, and you’re not left handed?""Yep…..until I remembered—you’re a reflection."
"Actually, you are reflecting ME, but that’s a story for another time…."
…..suddenly there was a brief, intense flash of light. Kirsten blinked, looked down into the pool, and straight into the big, dark eyes of the most beautiful, blonde 16 year old in all the world. A pure, white rose rested gently in her hand.
This is a fairy tale about Kirsten. Not the doll, but a real, live girl, now grown into a young woman.
When she was little, all sorts of things were said about how cute and special she was. "Could she be any cuter…" was a typical comment. When she was a little older, people started saying:
"Oh, you have your mommy’s BIG Beautiful eyes." Older still: "Oh, you’re going to be skinny like your daddy." But there was one really strange thing about this otherwise perfectly normal girl. She had never seen a mirror! All she knew about her appearance was what people said about her. Her mommy and daddy told everyone: "Keep Kirsten away from mirrors, and shiny things where she might see herself." So, everyone did.
One day Kirsten was taking a walk in the woods, all by herself. The trees formed a great, dark canopy overhead, but she felt perfectly safe, as if in the most beautiful cathedral in the world. She came to a small pool, mysteriously still. There was a large flat rock along one edge. Kirsten thought. "Oh, if I stood on the rock and looked straight down, I could see myself! My beautiful, blonde hair. My big eyes. And how trim and healthy I look. Dare I? DARE I DO IT? I shall!"
So, looking all around her to make sure no one would see what she was doing, she stepped onto the rock, curled her toes carefully over its edge, and looked down. She saw something in the pool. "It must be my reflection, from head to toe!" But…..
There was no blonde hair, but a billowing cloud of very dark hair. Eyes, but not at all like her mother’s. A large, boldly shaped nose. The figure was very broad, and very very tall. "Is that what I look like???" She asked aloud in surprise. To her utter amazement, a deep, soft, kind voice answered. "Yes, it is, because YOU look like ME!"
"And WHO are you??" she shot back.
"I’m the One who made you, and I made you in My Image"
"But you’re a man! And I’m not! ‘Cause, well, I just had my period, you know …."
"I know everything about you"
"You do?? Well, you’re a man and I’m not. Tell me about THAT"
"Thank you for asking. I’ll try to tell you as much as you can understand in this life. First, I’m NOT a male of the human species. No testosterone, and, trust me, none of the relevant anatomy."
"I trust you, I trust you! But go on…"
"Well, I’m not the ‘way up there, won’t touch the earth’ kind of God that other religions talk about. So I had to allow you to imagine me in human form. Androgynous would NEVER do; too different, too impersonal."
"So, why aren’t you a woman! What’s wrong with us!"
"I thought about that for a long, long time. But if I was a big, powerful woman, people just wouldn’t get it. Especially the guys. Trust me, please. But you do resemble me, really, in all the ways that are important…."
"Oh." (Pauses) "But….there’s still one thing…""Yes, my child?""Wait, I figured it out"
"You were going to say that I’m holding a shining sword in my left hand, and you’re not left handed?""Yep…..until I remembered—you’re a reflection."
"Actually, you are reflecting ME, but that’s a story for another time…."
…..suddenly there was a brief, intense flash of light. Kirsten blinked, looked down into the pool, and straight into the big, dark eyes of the most beautiful, blonde 16 year old in all the world. A pure, white rose rested gently in her hand.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
RELIGION ISN'T ONLY FOR REPUBLICANS
The above appeared the Boston Metro Tue., Feb. 26, 2008 with title and emphasis added by the paper:
Thanks for Thomas Keown's column on Christians who care deeply about poverty. Our faith is not the property of the Republicans or the Democrats. As Jim Wallis puts it, in his usual thought-provoking style,"the religious right is being replaced by Jesus." What is sometimes forgotten, though, is that left wing Christians need Jesus, too. Many liberal clergy have turned words about Jesus into a code, so that right and wrong become malleable, and where Jesus' resurrection and even his existence become secondary. Instead of remembering that Jesus said "not the smallest letter, or even a dot" will pass away from God's good laws, they substitute the relaxed morality of the secular world for the timeless safety of the Ten Commandments. If caring for the poor ever becomes as unfashionable as sexual morality already is, the religious left will have no more use for Jesus.
Thanks for Thomas Keown's column on Christians who care deeply about poverty. Our faith is not the property of the Republicans or the Democrats. As Jim Wallis puts it, in his usual thought-provoking style,"the religious right is being replaced by Jesus." What is sometimes forgotten, though, is that left wing Christians need Jesus, too. Many liberal clergy have turned words about Jesus into a code, so that right and wrong become malleable, and where Jesus' resurrection and even his existence become secondary. Instead of remembering that Jesus said "not the smallest letter, or even a dot" will pass away from God's good laws, they substitute the relaxed morality of the secular world for the timeless safety of the Ten Commandments. If caring for the poor ever becomes as unfashionable as sexual morality already is, the religious left will have no more use for Jesus.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Damn the Presbyterians!
or, what if C.S.Lewis had been Presbyterian instead of Anglican?
Location: A dungeon somewhere in Eastern Massachusetts
Time: November 19, 2007
First Voice: Damn those Presbyterians!
Second Voice: Will you stop saying that!
First Voice: What, now you're a prude.
Second Voice: No, it's just that...well...we are!
First Voice: Prudes?
Second Voice: No, damned. For all eternity.
First Voice: Eternity's a long way off, mate.
Second Voice: In The Enemy's time, it's already here.
First Voice: Gee, thanks, "Mr. KNOW IT ALL, the Pit's most theologically correct demon," come all the way from Pennsylvania to lecture me.
Second Voice: Don't say that name!
First Voice: Huh? "Gee?" C'mon, it's not his name, it's a misspelling of the first initial.
Second Voice: Whatever, I've still got the creeps from his last visit.
First Voice(embarrassed): Don't remind me. I was taking a Pit Stop myself. Rehab assignment, you know.
Second Voice: How could I forget? Demoted because for three successive Sabbaths you failed to get a Pharisee to count his cumin.
First Voice: I was trying to get him to peek down Martha's veil.
Second Voice: Did it work?
First Voice: No, she would always pray when she walked past him, and he knew it.
Second Voice: Great, you ended up making him pious.
First Voice: I figured he would be proud of his piety.
Second Voice: So that's why they assigned you to the skinny guy in Newton?
First Voice(grunts agreement): He has a great pedigree.
Second Voice: What? His dad???? Sure, he's a Republican, but real Pharisees don't pray like he does. They just can't.
First Voice: What makes you an expert?
Second Voice: I have a choice assignment myself.
First Voice: (sarcastically) Seine Namen?
Second Voice: The skinny guy's big brother!
First Voice: (snorts) Like how hard is it to keep him down?
Second Voice: Harder than it looks. The guy lives at the poverty level so he can be around books. Books about the Enemy. There's even a shrine to Machen, eight feet below his desk at the library!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._Gresham_Machen
First Voice: That makes it even easier
Second Voice: Like Hell it does
First Voice: Now who's swearing?
Second Voice: Shut up. Machen stayed with the Presbyterians til they kicked him out. Even mixed with pride and human weakness, the truth in all those Reformed theological tomes is straight from the Enemy. Years ago, the big brother even turned the little skinny one on to social justice!
First Voice(with a derisive laugh): You mean Sojourners? I love it! Too timid to stand up to the liberals, they spend their time smugly pretending conservatives are all materialistic despoilers of the Enemy's creation… But who am I kidding? Yesterday those Presbyterians at Fern Street had a sermon preached by a Jew about the Trinity in Isaiah 11. He went on to say the Enemy’s minions can work for social justice WITHOUT being motivated by guilt. That evening the girl that got away from Cluny's host told her story. We had to put out an emergency call for all the demons in town. Caused a traffic jam on The Pike.
Second Voice: Jews? Preaching at Fern Street? The pretty Unitarian Church? I love the Unitarians--great place to catch a nap.
First Voice: Hello, it was sold to the Presbyterians in 1946.
Second Voice: Unitarian, Presbyterian, most of our guys don't exactly bother to memorize either of their addresses. So, what happened?
First Voice: Well, the skinny guy is easy to distract--any pretty girl will do-- but another militant was hiding in the corner. She saw us swooping down, tapped the skinny guy's shoulder and BOOM! Next thing I knew, I was writhing in pain on that stupid linoleum, listening to a sermon.
Second Voice: Sermon? I thought it was, like, a community event
First Voice: Hah! They’ve been reading the Enemy's instruction booklet. And we lost 'cause of a couple of skinny elders, plus that lady whose teeth we knocked out last year.
Second Voice: Don't you dare mention the lady with the teeth again. How were we to know the Enemy had agents at a Dental School? It’s well known that we own every high school and University on the East Coast... But back to last night: it must've taken more than three of them to hold up Moses’ arms.
First Voice: For once, you're right: We forgot to sweep the basement. Turns out a militant named John was down there, on his knees, all evening. Like I said,
Damn those Presbyterians!
Location: A dungeon somewhere in Eastern Massachusetts
Time: November 19, 2007
First Voice: Damn those Presbyterians!
Second Voice: Will you stop saying that!
First Voice: What, now you're a prude.
Second Voice: No, it's just that...well...we are!
First Voice: Prudes?
Second Voice: No, damned. For all eternity.
First Voice: Eternity's a long way off, mate.
Second Voice: In The Enemy's time, it's already here.
First Voice: Gee, thanks, "Mr. KNOW IT ALL, the Pit's most theologically correct demon," come all the way from Pennsylvania to lecture me.
Second Voice: Don't say that name!
First Voice: Huh? "Gee?" C'mon, it's not his name, it's a misspelling of the first initial.
Second Voice: Whatever, I've still got the creeps from his last visit.
First Voice(embarrassed): Don't remind me. I was taking a Pit Stop myself. Rehab assignment, you know.
Second Voice: How could I forget? Demoted because for three successive Sabbaths you failed to get a Pharisee to count his cumin.
First Voice: I was trying to get him to peek down Martha's veil.
Second Voice: Did it work?
First Voice: No, she would always pray when she walked past him, and he knew it.
Second Voice: Great, you ended up making him pious.
First Voice: I figured he would be proud of his piety.
Second Voice: So that's why they assigned you to the skinny guy in Newton?
First Voice(grunts agreement): He has a great pedigree.
Second Voice: What? His dad???? Sure, he's a Republican, but real Pharisees don't pray like he does. They just can't.
First Voice: What makes you an expert?
Second Voice: I have a choice assignment myself.
First Voice: (sarcastically) Seine Namen?
Second Voice: The skinny guy's big brother!
First Voice: (snorts) Like how hard is it to keep him down?
Second Voice: Harder than it looks. The guy lives at the poverty level so he can be around books. Books about the Enemy. There's even a shrine to Machen, eight feet below his desk at the library!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._Gresham_Machen
First Voice: That makes it even easier
Second Voice: Like Hell it does
First Voice: Now who's swearing?
Second Voice: Shut up. Machen stayed with the Presbyterians til they kicked him out. Even mixed with pride and human weakness, the truth in all those Reformed theological tomes is straight from the Enemy. Years ago, the big brother even turned the little skinny one on to social justice!
First Voice(with a derisive laugh): You mean Sojourners? I love it! Too timid to stand up to the liberals, they spend their time smugly pretending conservatives are all materialistic despoilers of the Enemy's creation… But who am I kidding? Yesterday those Presbyterians at Fern Street had a sermon preached by a Jew about the Trinity in Isaiah 11. He went on to say the Enemy’s minions can work for social justice WITHOUT being motivated by guilt. That evening the girl that got away from Cluny's host told her story. We had to put out an emergency call for all the demons in town. Caused a traffic jam on The Pike.
Second Voice: Jews? Preaching at Fern Street? The pretty Unitarian Church? I love the Unitarians--great place to catch a nap.
First Voice: Hello, it was sold to the Presbyterians in 1946.
Second Voice: Unitarian, Presbyterian, most of our guys don't exactly bother to memorize either of their addresses. So, what happened?
First Voice: Well, the skinny guy is easy to distract--any pretty girl will do-- but another militant was hiding in the corner. She saw us swooping down, tapped the skinny guy's shoulder and BOOM! Next thing I knew, I was writhing in pain on that stupid linoleum, listening to a sermon.
Second Voice: Sermon? I thought it was, like, a community event
First Voice: Hah! They’ve been reading the Enemy's instruction booklet. And we lost 'cause of a couple of skinny elders, plus that lady whose teeth we knocked out last year.
Second Voice: Don't you dare mention the lady with the teeth again. How were we to know the Enemy had agents at a Dental School? It’s well known that we own every high school and University on the East Coast... But back to last night: it must've taken more than three of them to hold up Moses’ arms.
First Voice: For once, you're right: We forgot to sweep the basement. Turns out a militant named John was down there, on his knees, all evening. Like I said,
Damn those Presbyterians!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Even better than Dilbert's amazing mission statement generator
Mission Statement:
Our company seeks to glorify God by providing surgeons and endoscopists with innovative tools for the human side of healing
CORE VALUES:
Diversity: We will employ a diverse and talented group of people and ideas to a common purpose.
We will encourage "thinking outside the box" Yes, it’s a cliché, yet it manages to capture much of our approach. Our products will be orthogonal when that is efficient, and also spiral, random or anything else that works!
Integrity: We will not lie, cheat, or steal.
We are whole individuals, with lives outside of work.
Trust: We will be open and honest with one another, allowing differences to contribute to our creativity.
We will hold the above in creative tension with valuing each individual’s privacy
Results: We will deliver value to our shareholders
We will deliver useful tools to the medical community
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
What’s YOUR favorite body part?
(No, I didn’t say "favorite part of your body")
We just had TWO sermons on Unity and Community. Last week, a new staff member preached from the Psalms, and I loved her description of the shining beauty of the oil that covered the high priest from HEAD TO TOE[note double foreshadowing, you literary types]
This week was the familiar Pauline passage on the unity and necessity of the diverse body: No part is less important than any other.
So, what about the Head? Seems everyone wants to be the Head, but that job is taken by the One Slain from the Foundation of the World. So even though I must take up my own cross, that doesn’t make me "The Brain"
How about Heart—warm, vital, life giving? A nice thought, but no, not really.
Eye? A little closer—I see things many don’t see, and I often see things differently.
How about………….
A Toenail! I’m a little rough around the edges, and sadly, I accumulate a lot of odd-looking stuff that others think is junk. (In fact, some of it is)
WHERE IS THIS GUY’S SELF IMAGE? Please, don’t give up on me yet; I didn’t say I was a hangnail. That doesn’t count as a body part since, technically, I think only a tiny part of a hangnail is even alive. They are mostly dead tissue attached to living tissue with VERY functional nerve endings. And, yes, as necessary as toenails are, I don’t think most of the nail is "alive," either. The best part of me is what’s beneath the surface, and behind the visible part! All you see of me is what’s been pushed out from under the skin! And, far from having a low self image, consider this about me: when The Body is walking at a normal pace, not leaning or swinging the arms, what part crosses the finish line first??
You might even, gasp, call me a Leader! But please don’t.
We just had TWO sermons on Unity and Community. Last week, a new staff member preached from the Psalms, and I loved her description of the shining beauty of the oil that covered the high priest from HEAD TO TOE[note double foreshadowing, you literary types]
This week was the familiar Pauline passage on the unity and necessity of the diverse body: No part is less important than any other.
So, what about the Head? Seems everyone wants to be the Head, but that job is taken by the One Slain from the Foundation of the World. So even though I must take up my own cross, that doesn’t make me "The Brain"
How about Heart—warm, vital, life giving? A nice thought, but no, not really.
Eye? A little closer—I see things many don’t see, and I often see things differently.
How about………….
A Toenail! I’m a little rough around the edges, and sadly, I accumulate a lot of odd-looking stuff that others think is junk. (In fact, some of it is)
WHERE IS THIS GUY’S SELF IMAGE? Please, don’t give up on me yet; I didn’t say I was a hangnail. That doesn’t count as a body part since, technically, I think only a tiny part of a hangnail is even alive. They are mostly dead tissue attached to living tissue with VERY functional nerve endings. And, yes, as necessary as toenails are, I don’t think most of the nail is "alive," either. The best part of me is what’s beneath the surface, and behind the visible part! All you see of me is what’s been pushed out from under the skin! And, far from having a low self image, consider this about me: when The Body is walking at a normal pace, not leaning or swinging the arms, what part crosses the finish line first??
You might even, gasp, call me a Leader! But please don’t.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
From the Bottom of the Pit
>>>Remember, my "Darwinist hat" statements are NOT what I myself believe, but an application of my friend's reasoning!<<<
Continuing the discussion with my sincere, polite, online friend--
poster "Ashpenaz" offered a contorted argument, relying on alleged scientific discoveries to redefine the word "eunuch." I replied:
In spite of our mutual concern for the poor, I really doubt whether you believe in [the judgment of individuals and their sins], Ashpenaz. You said:'Everything is permissible" and "Love is the fulfillment of the law." We each have to work out our own salvation by determining what our conscience tells us is the loving thing to do.'
.
.
Meaning everything, or practically everything, is permissible if you can rationalize it as "love." This tosses out everything Jesus and the Old Testament say about sexuality and poverty if you are creative enough, I mean "sincere enough" before your own unique conscience. Let me put my Darwinist hat back on and posit: I help the poor by advocating natural selection. Since many people "make it" in spite of poverty, those are the ones with good genes. They'll live, the rest will starve, and in the future all poor people will make it and be tough. So my neglect actually helps the poor. If I am sincere enough about this, will God let me into Heaven?They didn't understand Darwinism back then, either, so just like "eunuch" means what your argument from ignorance might suggest (an interesting argument, really, though I disagree) so the means of helping the poor in the 21st century must take on a global, evolutionary perspective. In the end we all win: My Darwinist alter ego needn't feel guilty, and the poor get better as quickly as Darwinism will make them tough and resilient. Builds character along the way, really!
Posted by: Witness for Peace December 21, 2007 3:06 PM
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