Curious George, your days are numbered

I finally found the first Curious George book and gleefully checked it out so Isaac could have some context for all those miserable Curious George sequel books he was obsessed with in Sudan. We got to the climax of the story, the page where Curious George has dialed the fire department's number and they have responded and burst into the room, realizing the call was false. Curious George tries to escape by running out the window but gets tangled in the phone cord and the firefighters grab him. Isaac examined the picture for a while and then pointed at the telephone. "What's that?" he asked. The child, I realized, has never seen a phone with a cord.

And I grew up with Deer Hunt Vacation

Last month was Crocus Vacation and next monthh is Tulip Vacation. We're not on vacation right now, but it is definitely daffodil season.

You must see this now

Sharla and Kris, our friends and neighbors, loaned us the DVD of "New York Doll," a documentary nominated for Sundance's Grand Jury Prize. I've already watched it twice but I can't return it yet because there are still people in this house who haven't seen it and maybe I can watch it once more. It's about a member of one of the seminal protopunk rock bands and his reunion with the band after his conversion to Mormonism. It's a wonderful and honest look at genuine religious experience, human quirks and flaws included. I loved it.

She's seventeen!

Today Ruth turns seventeen. I told her I can't figure out how she got so old so fast. She assures me it wasn't fast for her.

At her birthday dinner, we told the story of when she was born and shared fond memories of her. Then, in our newest birthday tradition, we made up futures for her. We have lots of fun spinning the tales out with much detail. In short, however, seventeen years from now, she will be...

a neurosurgeon turned conceptual artist in Central Kazhakstan, or

the founder and translator for a charity hospital in the highlands of Ecuador, or

an art restorer, or

a mother of five children, race organizer, and ultra-marathon runner, or

an arts critic for the Los Angeles Times, or...

Feel free to add your own possible future for our birthday girl. Happy birthday, Ruth!

Friday Isaac spent the day building hammerhead sharks out of Lego. He carefully positioned one on David's night table so it would bite him as he got into bed. "Daddy will be so frilled when he sees my hammerhead sharks!"

Friday afternoon I found myself in an unfamiliar spot--sitting in the school library telling the librarian that I thought a book should be removed from the shelves. I read a graphic novel from the library that was, I thought, way too graphic. It deals with a girl whose father is a sexual predator and who is, understandably, traumatized by confusing sexual messages as she grows up. The book is also full of sexually explicit pictures, rather ironically subjecting its high school reader to similar traumas. The book bothered me a lot so I scheduled a meeting to talk with our high school librarian about why it's in the school's collection.

This is not a familiar or easy position for me to be in. I believe wholeheartedly in personal censorship--that individuals and families have a right and responsibility to be selective in the books they consume--but I also believe that libraries should be a marketplace of ideas. Some of our family's most meaningful discussions have come out of books with which we disagree: it's valuable to look at your own opinions and beliefs in the light of another viewpoint.

But. This was a book in a high school library. In a private school. About pedophilia. And it was full of pictures that deeply disturbed me (and I didn't even look at most of them!). I'm not sure it even belongs in a public library.

So Friday I sat across from the librarian telling her why I thought the book didn't belong in our high school library. It actually ended up being a great discussion. She told me about why she thought it belonged there and about where she would draw the line. In the end, we agreed to disagree about that particular book but found we do have a lot of common ground. So the book I hate remains on the shelf, but I'm glad I had the conversation.

West, my boy...to the East coast

Because we don't think we've moved enough in the past nine months, we've decided to move yet again. In June. To Jacksonville, Florida. David will teach law school and we'll do all the normal American things like buy a house and a car and go to public schools. Ruth will qualify for a medal--her fourth high school in fifteen months. At least she can learn to drive.

We do not look forward to the move itself or to having to say goodbye to Holland, but the prospect of living in Florida and having Dad around is pleasing.