Wendell Berry

One of the highlights of last week was that we got to meet one of my favorite authors, Wendell Berry. He came to SLC as the keynote speaker for a symposium commemorating the 100th anniversary of the birth of Wallace Stegner (Berry's mentor). It was quite a treat because, as you know if you've read much of Berry's work, he believes in mostly staying put in the place where he lives (Kentucky). The last time he was in Utah was 20 years ago when he came to southern Utah for a wake for his friend and fellow author Edward Abbey, so we jumped at the rare chance to see him.

Berry did a book signing at Ken Sander's Rare Books in SLC and that's where we got to meet him (as seen in the picture above). Berry is critical of our unthinking eagerness to jump on every new technology, so I decided that it would be bad form to bring my camera. I decided that I would just enjoy the experience of getting to meet an author whose work I like. But . . . a lady from the bookstore was getting Berry to pose along with the people whose books he was signing. It was clearly bugging him and after she took our picture he turned to her and asked, "Are you getting what you want out of this?" It was pretty funny. So I got my picture with him and didn't have to be the thoughtless annoying person to force the situation—have our cake and eat it too.

After the signing Berry did a reading at the masonic temple in Salt Lake.  He's not a mason.  It was just the place with lots of seating that they got for the event.  It was cool to see inside the place.  Berry read from an essay he is still working on about the economy.  He's written a lot on how our current economy is wasteful, glutenous, and destructive and he brought this conversation forward in light of the current economic crisis.  He thinks that we should be thrifty, self-reliant, and that we should nurture a local economy and made some great points about struggling with the question of needs vs. wants.

He also read from one of his short stories (very entertaining) and then did some Q & A.  It was great to hear his written words in his voice and I think that I can "get" his fiction that much more now that I've heard him read it.  I'm feeling a bit too lazy now to try to capture some of what he said, but let me give you some links to a few of his essays.  He's really worth checking out if you don't know his work.  BTW, make sure you realize that he has a sense of humor when you read this stuff.

Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer

Feminism, the Body, and the Machine

Home Economics—Analysis of U.S. Agricultural Policy

The Pleasures of Eating

"One of the good ones"

Ever since we learned about our upcoming move to Knoxville, we have been so excited to finally be able to tell people where we are going and what our plans are. The response for the most part has been reciprocal excitement, maybe some tips or mention of someone somebody knows who once went to Knoxville. Recently I had an encounter that was quite different. I was at the health center and a nurse was helping me get a prescription refill processed. The processing was taking a while, so that meant it was time to chat and apparently fill her in on everything that is going on in my life. I have worked with this nurse in the past, and she’s really quite helpful, but it did seem strange how intensely interested she suddenly was in our upcoming plans. As soon as the internship came up, well, I had to dish all kinds of details about Brady’s degree, what he’ll be doing, what his career goals are, and so on. It really didn’t feel rude, just weird that she wanted to know so much. She was almost grandmotherly about it, except it was weird since she isn’t my grandmother. She’s really very sweet, and I didn’t want to be rude since she has been so helpful to me in the past. Eventually, she asked where we’ll be going. This is a snippet of the conversation at that point.

Me: Knoxville, Tennessee

Nurse: Where’s that? Is that one of the good ones?

Me: [a little surprised at the first question, but not sure what the second question even means, decided to answer the first anyway] Well . . . Knoxville is in the eastern part of the state, which borders North Carolina.

Nurse: Oh, well that’s all right [apparently North Carolina is one of the good ones]. Ya know, when ya get down into some of those others like, oh, Oklahoma or Arizona it’s not as good [really, she said Arizona—in retrospect, I think she meant to say Arkansas].

Me: Oh . . . yeah.

I imagine that my soon-to-be Southern sensibilities kicked in, and all I could think was, “Oh, bless her heart” in that slightly condescending, you-just-don’t-get-it use of the phrase. I think I know what she was getting at, so next time someone asks if Knoxville is “one of the good ones” I’m going to say, “Nah. We’re jus’ gonna go live with a bunch of hillbillies.” Although Tennessee did pass her standard, so maybe that wouldn’t be accurate. I do think they should change the state motto to “Tennessee: One of the Good Ones.” I think that would look nice on a license plate.

P.S. The picture has nothing to do with this post. It is one of the images I found when I typed “one of the good ones” into Google images—seemed fitting enough, though, since I'm not entirely sure what that phrase is really supposed to mean.

Knoxville, Tennessee!

The Wigginses are going to Knoxville!  We're thrilled—this was our first choice.

Success!

I got an internship! Hooray! Come back Monday when I find out where we're headed.

Awaiting an Internship

So, my grueling process of internship application has nearly come to an end.  On Tuesday I submitted my rank-order list of 10 internship programs.  They run applicant lists and site lists through some sort of Willy Wonka machine and come out with matches between applicants and sites.  I'll hear back on February 20th if I matched to a site and on February 23 which site I matched to (I've decided to think positively and assume that my match is a given).  We're excited for this next step in our lives and frankly wish we didn't have to wait any longer to find out where we're headed.

The ranking of sites is pretty sensitive, so I'm not going to publish here on the internet the order I've ranked my sites.  I will, however, let you know the sites I've ranked.  Here they are in alphabetical order (they're all university counseling centers):  Illinois State University, Kansas State University, Montana State University, Oregon State University, Texas A & M University, University of Idaho, University of Maine, University of New Hampshire, University of Tennessee at Knoxville, and Washington State University.

All of the sites look good to me and I think that we could be happy if we get any of them.  I am particularly excited about those that made it to the top of my list, but I don't think that any of them will disappoint.

An observation . . .

Did you know that it is impossible to accurately sing more than 5-6 notes of the tune of the Little House on the Prairie theme song? Seriously, try it (and don't pretend like you don't know it). It is absolutely impossible. Call in the X-files.

So that was Christmas

Well, we've packed up Christmas for another year (all except the outside lights; the weather has not been cooperating for that yet). Now we're both back to teaching and wondering where in the world our Christmas break went. (sigh). We did have a very nice Christmas break playing with family and friends, but it was far too fleeting. I'm including just a few highlights below. I got quite a few pictures of nieces and nephews because everyone else's camera batteries died on Christmas Eve. So I'm putting in a few of those. But first I am including a bit of Christmas cheer Brady and I wrote on Christmas Eve. A little background first: my family decided it would be great to start a tradition of having a sort of talent show on Christmas Eve. All the grandkids could play the piano, sing, we have some musically inclined in-laws, my sister plays the violin, etc. We, however, did not realize this was the program until just a day or two before. Since Brady didn't have his guitar, we were a bit stumped on what to do (not that Brady's cooking for people wouldn't count). A few years back I wrote some funny little poems about my nieces and nephew, which other family members illustrated and made into books for presents for them. So my mom suggested I write them another poem for my talent. I was pretty short on time, so I got the ball rolling, then recruited Brady to help me finish it on time. The other item you need to know about this is the origin of "Stinklebert." A few months ago our then-two-year-old nephew, Benjamin,  got very interested in learning everyone's whole name (he had sarted to figure out the whole middle and last name thing I guess). When he asked Brady what his whole name was, without missing a beat Brady responded, "Brady Stinklebert Wiggins." It was a new introduction to teasing for the kid, and pretty much sums up Brady's relationship with most of our nieces and nephews. Eventually our nephew accepted this as fact and subsequently named one of his trucks "Stinklebert." He even used the name as a verb, I guess meaning "to tease" in his mind (as in "I'm just stinkleberting you"—his words, not mine). Brady and I were actually a little proud of that. Anyway, out of this Stinklebert lore arose this little creation of our own (Brady was quite pleased with coming up with 3 rhymes for "Stinklebert").  It's obviously a bit of a rough draft, but i doubt we'll ever go finish it, so here it is.

Stinklebert’s Revenge

 

You’ve heard that Santa won’t come to children awake,

a lie all children are told—not true, a mistake!

The reasons you’re told to sleep are phony and fake;

The true reason I’ll tell you, and for your own sake.

 

Yes it’s true you must sleep, but it’s not what you think;

Santa’s not hiding while you kids catch a wink.

There’s one teasing elf with a ripe, raunchy stink,

a trickster and joker, a dirty ratfink.

 

His name is Stinklebert and he ruins the toys

for the kids who won’t sleep, for those who make noise.

It’s not the destruction that Stinkle enjoys,

it’s just that he’s frightened of small girls and boys.

 

You see Stinkle is not the brightest old elf,

he mostly sews buttons, puts toys on the shelf.

Till one day said Santa, “I can’t do this myself,

I’ll send Stinkle ahead to get things ready for twelve.”

 

So it started like this, one Christmas Eve night

Stinkle was straight’ning stockings and setting things right.

Out tottered a child into Stinklebert’s sight,

the elf gave a shriek out of terror and fright.

 

“Hem-a-na-ha-ma-na-herma-na-herk!!”

Our frightened old Stinkle was going berserk.

He pulled down the stockings, ’twas almost kneejerk,

smashed the tree and the toys so nothing would work.

 

He took all the bounces out of the balls,

he tore up toy soldiers and broke all the dolls,

he splattered new paint sets all over the walls,

with a blood-curdling cry heard from here to Twin Falls.

 

He shouted and screamed until every wrinkle hurt.

He tore the new clothing, even the twinkle shirt.

Upon Christmas dinner he liberally sprinkled dirt.

The Yuletide in ruin, all care of ole’ Stinklebert.

 

Christmas was ruined, was over and done,

no toy was unbroken, not even one.

Tea sets were shattered, toy trains wouldn’t run,

When Stinklebert finished, nothing was fun.

 

So now Stinkle’s ready if kids aren’t in bed,

before they can scare him, he’ll get them instead.

The havoc he’ll wreak, well, that need not be said,

We all know that Stinkle’s not well in the head.

 

Even if you’re awake, Santa comes all the same,

but remember the tricks of old Stinklebert’s fame.

He’ll smash up your presents, oh what a shame,

What good is a stocking a’kindled in flame?

 

So on Christmas Eve close one eye and then two,

sleep snugly and soundly all the night through,

keep snoring and snoozing and sawing logs too

because if you don’t he’ll stinklebert you!

  

Ben and Jared thought off-roading in the snow was a good idea. It really wasn't.

Hannah, Mindy, and Grace listening to the Christmas talent show.

Acting out the nativity.

Jonathan's not so sure about this sheep thing.

Bleating?

Big brother Ben shows him how to pose for the camera (seriously, he had his hand like that for 3 pictures in a row)

Grace, Isaac, and Hannah playing with my new toys (balancing bamboo dragon flies from Brady's dad).

Ben thought he was a pretty good present.

Uncle "Stinklebert" with Jared (aka Jelly-face) at Ben's (aka The Knock-em-out Kid's) birthday party. Brady introduced the kids to the concept of nicknames.