Becoming My Grandmother

I'll never forget the fateful trip to Greenville, North Carolina for my parents' high school reunion.

I was in elementary school, probably in 6th grade, and that would have placed my brother in 3rd grade. I had been dying to see Dirty Dancing of course. With my parents gone for the evening, it was the perfect opportunity for Grandmother to take us to the movies. The two hours we would spend together with Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey would form the basis for a lifetime of hilarity.

Not believing the "dirty" dancing scenes of Dirty Dancing proved to be the tip of the proverbial iceberg. After that, there were other things to worry about, like sex. The line my grandmother uttered loud enough for everyone in three rows to hear has lived on in stories ever since...

(Say in deep Southern accent) "If there is one more suggestive scene, we are leaving this theater!"

I remember silence on the way home. The next day was filled just as much with talk of who was fat, who never married, etc. as it was filled with Grandmother uttering her disbelief at the inappropriateness of Dirty Dancing. Grandmother wasn't the type to keep bringing something up, but you could tell it continued to bother her.

Fast forward 23 years, and I am becoming my Grandmother.

I literally cannot believe the crap in movies "these days." (Ah yes, another Grandmother phrase.) And it's nothing that enhances the plot. The rampant violence, sex, disgusting language (not used a few times for emphasis, but in literally every other line) are unbearable.  Most of it is senseless--there's literally no reason for it.

We took the D-Man (now 14) with us to see a PG-13 film recently, and among other things I would have chosen not to expose D-Man to, I counted at least 5 references to oral sex in the language. Everyone laughed, and while that may be okay for adult humor, is that something you want to hear your 14 year old laughing at?! I was completely embarrassed and in the spirit of Grandmother almost stood up and shouted, "If there is one more reference to oral sex, we are leaving this theatre!"

I felt like a terrible parent for not checking out the movie more thoroughly before going.  It's not that I'm living in a freaking box. But I am ultra-sensitive to the fact that what is portrayed on television and in movies is perceived as "the norm" and "acceptable" by young audiences. That's how behavior is modeled, and of course, it's what's cool.

He needs to know all about sex, drugs, alcohol, and to a greater extent, he'll be making decisions about those things on a regular basis. But seeing them treated so irreverently in movies doesn't contribute to the cause.

D-Man wants to go to a PG-13 movie with his friend today, and of course I'm thinking "Today's PG-13 is like way beyond what would have been in the last decade's rated R. What the heck is in this film?" 

I just found a website called Parent Previews, and although I'm not interested in someone else's judgement on what's appropriate and what's not, each movie review lists explicit details about each occurrence of violence, sex, reference to sex and language. I love it because it gives me the chance to make the call--not who is rating movies.

If you have a teen or tween at home, it's a great resource. Even if you want to see if you should waste your money on a movie full of crap just for the heck of it (not because it's part of a compelling story), you should check it out too. http://www.parentpreviews.com/

Sadly, I may have never seen Dirty Dancing if Al Gore was quicker to invent the Internet and spread it around virally back in the late '80's. Grandmother would be writing those reviews herself. I'd hate to see her face if she saw what our middle school audiences were exposed to now.

Peaceful Retreat

The trip began with a rainy drive to central Florida through one-gas station towns and seedy roadside restaurants that offered a burger and food poisoning. The moonscape left from Mosaic's active and obnoxious phosphate mining operation eventually gave way to orange groves. And orange groves. And a few more orange groves.

(taken today, in the sun obviously)

It was cold, rainy and desolate at Bok Tower gardens when we arrived on Saturday. But we put on layers, armed ourselves with umbrellas, and enjoyed an adventurous tour in the rain with a senior volunteer and passionate Bok-lover named Mary.  She did her best with a small green and white umbrella that barely covered her increasingly wet coat, and insisted on plowing ahead to reveal more of the garden's secrets and history. Most enjoyable and unique--and an experience you couldn't enjoy with meek and wimpy adventurers for sure! 

What can I say about our stay at the Chalet Suzanne, five minutes from the garden?  We were a little hesitant when we first arrived at the end of the meandering drive that deposited us at a partially crooked pink house with purple and yellow doors and funky tiles. Ask me about it now, and I'll tell you I'm a convert. Everyone who's in for something unusual and fine flies into the airstrip behind the chalet and dines there at least once--certainly if you're the likes of Dina Shore, Ed McMahon or Bono. So maybe Bono wasn't there. But there was quite a collection of autographed celeb photos displayed at the reception area.

We returned to Bok Tower Gardens today under blue skies without a single cloud and enjoyed the most inviting signs of spring: flowers from camelias to witch hazel and all kinds of birds including quail, catbirds, brown thrashers, cardinals, eastern towhees, Carolina wrens, and an ovenbird.

And yes, there were two swans as well. Both males, to prevent the inevitable mating and offspring that sparks aggression with guests. I can't say the theory worked--these were intent on eating shoes and pants in an attempt to bully us into feeding them. Yes, they knew they were "hot."

The gardens were designed for the purpose of providing a haven of peace and tranquility with nature, woodland creatures and music. I was surprised to find the tower--seemingly random plopped right in the middle of a hillside in the middle of Florida--so beautiful. Carillon music rings out twice each day, and decorates the nearby neighborhoods and groves in the timed assurance of calming sound.

"gilded" front door of the tower

the very top...don't get me wrong, it's reallly high

hilltop bench overlooking orange groves
(this is on a huge lawn that also includes the tower on the opposite end)

Pines Lake Redhead is a most excellent travel companion, and the trip wouldn't have offered the same peace and renewal without her lovely company! She even knitted me a scarf, which kept Gropius warm and toasty, even in the freezing rain.

Private Eyes Are Watching You...Watching Your Every Move...

Yesterday I had the pleasure of volunteering with Art Center Sarasota for its Private Eyes tour—a tour of lovely homes in town with fabulous private art collections.

As a result, the 1981 Hall & Oats song “Private Eyes” has been permanently marked in my conscious mind. I know about 10 words to the song, which I’m trying desperately to forget, but continue to mentally repeat them in a hellish rolling record nonetheless. I am ready to be Baker acted.

The volunteering gig was enjoyable. I am left with a great respect for all of those who opened up their homes to the sea of strangers who arrived with (and without) manners, looking at their stuff, commenting good things (and bad) about their most prized possessions, and shedding DNA calling cards on their floors, rugs, walls and windows. In general, people were on very good behavior and I would surely call the event a grand success.

However, it was one of those days I thank heavens for my little 7 room house in Bradentucky, with no worries of being called on for tour duty.

By the way, misery loves company:

I knew it. He digs social media.

Was I surprised to discover Gropius' YouTube video? No. This dramatic and somewhat creepy video (with The Shining-like background music in the middle), may have as well been made by Gropius himself. He was a Renaissance Man, a trend setter... Always well ahead of his time. And he would love the overzealous interactions focused on the mundane that are so encouraged by Web 2.0.

Though it's a bit long, it offers a proper introduction to Gropius. It captures the Bauhaus movement, which "reconciles art and craft to create a new industrial asthetic." Skunk Ape, this reminds me of your mission as a contractor here in Sarasota.

By far, one of the greatest aspects of this video is the narrator's pronunciation of "Grrropius." One day a similarly tasteful and elegant voice will repeat this name in the Skunk Ape's quarters. The young and sleek charcoal cat will approach, and though not very bright, it will start emerging from behind the couch as soon as the consonant "G" is released from the lips.

Gropius, you were so well-named. Where is your gilded leash?