Month: August 2025

  • ODDS and ENDS: My Head Hurts, (Place Holder), and SOUP!

    (Revved up like a deuce…)

    I didn’t sleep well last night, so I know that’s the main reason, but man, my head hurts. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being barely there and 10 being the worst pain imaginable, I would say I am at a 2. But the pain in behind my left eye, going up the left side of my head and ending at the back of my skull. Usually, when I get pain behind an eye, that is the red flag of a migraine. But like I said, the pain is low and that leads me to believe that this will become a dreaded migraine. In fact, it’s been years since I had one. I used to get migraines a handful of times a year, while normal headaches would happen at least once a week. You might find this hard to believe, but this would happen to me back when I was working a normal 9 to 5 job. I think it had everything to do with stress, and now I don’t live as stressful of a life, but there are still stresses.

    (Place Holder for a good idea)

    You know who loves soup? Me and my wife. You know who hates soup? My kid. You know who is willing to try any food you put in front of them, except soup? That is also my kid. I find this so confusing about her. I’ve asked her often, what is it about soup that you hate? And she just says, I don’t like soup? But she likes ramen. She loves when we make a Japanese hotpot at home. She loves getting pho. But soup. Even a normal basic chicken noodle soup, she hates. And this hatred for soup has been growing. The kid won’t touch a stew, or gumbo. My friend made a really great gazpacho the other day, and she refused to try it. The wife and I are getting a little worried as we are getting closer to Autumn, and we have soup plans. (And I realize how funny and odd that last sentence was.) There’s a clam chowder I want to make, and the wife has her eye on a couple of different French stews that she wants to try. We both found a mushroom soup recipe that we want to try, and I found a video of a Japanese vegetable soup that think would be perfect for a cool Fall lunch. I mean, we are going to move forward with the soup plans, I just really don’t want to leave the kid behind, nor turn her off to the idea of soup for the rest of her life. You know, like how people who ate too much canned tuna as a kid can never have anything with tuna in it, no matter how well prepared it is. I don’t want that to happen to the kid. But… soup. SOUP!

  • Short Story Review: “Something Has Come to Light” by Miriam Toews

    (The short story “Something Has Come to Light” by Miriam Toews appeared in the August 25th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Marcus Schaefer for The New Yorker

    I had a humanities teacher in high school who explained existentialism to my class this way; “We are all free to make choices in our life. Nothing is determined. You can choose to be whoever you want. Being able to choose doesn’t always mean you will be happier.” At least that’s the notes I took in my first journal way back in 1995. I went back to this journal after I finished reading Miriam Toews’ story “Something Has Come to Light,” because not only did the story make me think about choices I’ve made, but also about living with those choices.

    To sum this story up, perhaps a bit too simply: A grandmother has written a note/story for her grandchildren about a moment in her life where she should have said yes, but said no to the neighbor boy, Roland. Some years later the boy moves away, but dies, and his parents bury an urn that contain his ashes on their property. Sometime even later, after the parents on the neighboring property pass away and their land is to be sold, the grandmother sneaks onto the property at night, digs up the urn, and reburies it on her property. Every day, the grandmother has passed by the buried urn, and tells Roland she should have said yes. The letter/story ends with the grandmother asking the grandchild to dig up the urn and return it to Roland’s surviving sister, or if that’s too much to ask, leave him, and continue to tell him that grandma made a mistake and should have said yes.

    I loved this story. And I loved how this story snuck up on me, how it placed itself in my head, and kept poking at me, telling me to enjoy it more. The language here is simple and to the point, which is what you would expect from a woman that has lived a simple but contented life. The way it was written reminded me of how the Midwestern women in my family spoke – there was a plainness to it, but that didn’t mean that the words didn’t have nuance and revelatory meaning to them. The grandmother is a woman who doesn’t complain, but also is tough and doesn’t put up with much either, yet will never be rude about it.

    The story really is about Roland, and the affect he had on her life. Though the two of them weren’t close, according to the grandmother, you can tell that she had a deep appreciation for him. Roland was different from the other people in town. His great sin appears to be that he sat on the front row at concerts, had a gift for the piano as demonstrated with a concert he put on in town and which the grandmother saved a poster from. Then one day Roland rode up to the grandmother and asked if she wanted a ride, which she answered no. A decision she would regret as Roland moved away to England. The town never forgave him for leaving, and I sense that the grandmother never spoke up or out in Roland’s defense, but she lived with that regret. A regret that would possess her to the point that not only did she need to apologize to Roland for the rest of her life, but also to possess Roland for the remainder of her life.

    What I find captivating about this story is that it isn’t necessarily a romantic bond between the grandmother and Roland. Though I think there is a tinge about, like a frosting, but it’s not the driving motivation. What I believe the story is telling me is that the grandmother is mourning the exact moment where her life could have gone in a different direction. That she could have been, or done, something different. But, and this is most important, she does not regret her life. I say this because the start of the story, the grandmother explains that she keeps all the pictures of her grandchildren in a photo album next to her bed; how she looks at them, most nights. This is the act of a woman appreciating the life she lived, and what her and her husband created in this world.

    What I find Miriam Toews is asking me with “Something Has Come to Light” is can it be possible to love the life you led, but also mourn the moment when it could have gone in a different direction? Can you love a person who could have been your agent of change, while also not wanting to change? Can a paradox like this exist in a contented person?

    Perhaps. Perhaps the grandmother never wanted to let go of that chance encounter, to say she was sorry to the one person who wasn’t like anyone else she ever knew. Ultimately, the grandmother made her choice, and she learned to live with it, and with regret at the same time.

  • Earworm Wednesday: What the hell is a “Disco Round?”

    I mean, I know it’s referring to a disco floor, but “disco round” is still a weird term.

    Though the song came out in 1978, when I hear it, it makes me think of getting ready for elementray school in the early 80’s. My mom would play the “top 40” radio in the kitchen as she got all of us ready for school. And for whatever reason this song played one morning as I ate Frankenberry cereal, and became lodged in my memory.

  • Reality of Homework

    So, the kid has started middle school, and new things have been thrown at her from her school, and on the whole, she has handled all of these changes admirably.

    With the exception of homework.

    Now, I am NOT here to say that her school has given her too much work, or any of that stuff. No, I believe that her school is rolling out homework at a respectable pace.

    It’s just that the kid doesn’t like doing homework, because she’d rather be talking to her friends, or playing online games. You know…

    And this isn’t like the first time that the kid has had homework. Even in her elementary school, she was required to read for thirty minutes a night, and do a page of math problems. If things were very hectic, she might also have a little science homework as well. Tops, all of this work would take her an hour. Most nights, she was done in forty minutes, and with only a minor amount of grumbling. Middle school homework takes about an hour.

    As we have been dealing with this new found disgust of homework, it reminded me of when she first got “homework” back in second grade. It was like five math problems that she could do at home, and she was excited to take care of it first thing after school. I get, because I remember doing the same thing at her age.

    For me, not that I 100% remember what my “homework” was, let’s say math, but it was the fact that I felt like I was older, doing ready studying, really learning. Home work was that thing my older brothers had to do, and it must be a good thing because they were smarter than me, so homework made you smarter. And I wanted to be smarter. What I do remember concretely was the feeling of accomplishment for completing whatever that homework was, and also how my brothers told me I shouldn’t be excited to get homework because it was like a punishment.

    Clearly things changed, and I also remember the awful years in junior high, with so much homework, and feeling like it was looming over my life. I don’t remember that feeling in high school, though I know there was an enormous amount of homework. College was college, and studying and homework was just part of the deal – no point in complaining about it, but, again, it never felt soul crushing like junior high.

    Either way, life has come full circle, and the kid hates the amount of homework she has; no matter the size of work. I guess this is a lesson she has to learn – get your work done so you can do the stuff you want to do.

    Something like that.

  • Bad Movie Bible – Borrowing Blockbusters: Maxploitation

    Rob Hill is back with another installment of his “Borrowing Blockbuster” series from Bad Movie Bible. This time around he is tackling the Mad Max movies. If you are like me, then you love a wonderful good-bad movie to unwind with, and Hill find plenty fodder in the Mad Max world of rip-offs and imitation. This is just part one, so I suspect that part two might only be a week or month away.