TV or not TV

Live births per 1000 women 15-19 years old, 2002. UNFPA, State of World Population 2003 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I read another memoir last night.  This one was by David Sedaris, and it was called "Us and Them."  It's about a family he knew as a kid that did not have a television.  Apparently he thought this was bizarre.  I guess I'm kind of on the bizarre side myself from his point of view.  I only watch a few hours of TV a week anymore.  I used to watch a lot when I was a kid, though.  Now, I'm just too busy between school, work, and my friends.  If I turn the TV on, it's usually to watch a movie.  One funny thing about this lately is that our neighbors asked us to join a boycott against Dancing with the Stars (because of Bristol Palin -- her claim to stardom being that she made teenage pregnancy glamorous).  We all did this the last time they asked (for the same reason), but I felt odd about it, since I have seen maybe 20 minutes total of that show since it began.  I wouldn't have watched anyway. 

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The Way She Was-- Was EVIL!

Girl receiving first Holy Communion, Sicily
 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Our first essay is supposed to be a memoir "of some experience you had BEFORE you were 12 years old that still has meaning for you now."  I had some trouble thinking of one, but then I remembered my first holy communion.  I was about six or seven, and my oldest sister played an evil trick on me.  She told me that I needed to be careful not to bite down on the host when I was walking back from the altar.  Like an idiot (or a six year old, I guess), I asked why.  She said, "because then Jesus's blood will gush out of your mouth and go all over your white dress."
I'm going to use this story, even though she did stuff like this to me all the time, because it shows just how evil she was.  Now that I'm thinking about it, there was the Christmas where she gave me a Milky Way and told me to cram the whole thing in my mouth because she heard Mom coming downstairs.  Then she gave me a glass of Coke to help wash it down.  Well, for some reason, the candy bar started to foam like crazy, and it actually did gush out of my mouth, all over my velvet Christmas dress.  
See what I mean about her being evil?  
And no, we don't really get along. 

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Was There any Shoutin'?

Cover of All Over but the Shoutin'

Yesterday I got my first assignment in English 101, to set up and keep a blog all semester that covered what I was reading (and writing, I guess).  The first thing I read was a memoir, called "All Over But the Shoutin'," by Rick Bragg, about his last meeting with his father.  It's pretty clear that Bragg hated his father, who was abusive and drank a lot, but Bragg doesn't get any kind of satisfaction out of facing him down.  He doesn't say anything to his father about how much he hurt him, mainly (I think) because he's in shock at how his father looks:  old, sick, and dying.  
After I read it, I wondered if when his father died, did he and the rest of his family manage to get out all their anger at this man who Bragg calls "the monster of my childhood"?  I don't think they could, really, but I also don't think that confronting him about it would have helped anyway.  And, I guess that's Bragg's point, that some things you just have to learn to live with.

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