Posts of the Week
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The Books of Your School Years Catherine Coburn - 09:08am Jun 10, 1997 PST (#29 of 32)
I remember elementary and Junior High English as monumentally boring - badly written, pointless stories, with occasional snippets of good stuff. The thing that saved me was having a mother who read to me, and encouraged me to read, and a used book store that she used to take me to where I found some incredible treasures. The book store must have purchased the library of someone British, or with British parents, and as a result I grew up reading British children's books written, for the most part, in the 1920's, 30's and 40's (is it just me, or has there been a tendency over the past decades to 'dumb down' kid's books? I seem to recall those older books as having a much more demanding vocabulary and more complex sentences, which I think is why I liked them - they were a bit more challenging). A very odd education, for a little girl in Miami, however. High School English was marginally better, due to a lunatic English teacher who taught us Greek mythology and Shakespeare, while gleefully pointing out the'dirty parts' - a sure way to hold the attention of adolescents! The rest of High School English was pretty grim. It was with considerable shock that I discovered, years later, that I actually liked Hawthorne. Interior Spaces and How to Finish Them - Interior Design Asher Wilson - 10:28am Jun 10, 1997 PST (#1 of 3)
I have been around people all of my life concerned with finishing spaces either theater sets or the interiors of homes or public spaces. Thus with Dad, as a college theater professor, and my ex, owning her own interior furnishings showroom, the homes in which I have lived have always had either theatrical props or overflow from a showroom. On courting my ex, I (Mr. Sears) will never forget the peculiar blend of feeling - indignation, astonishment and fascination - on being advised (and matter of factly) that the tiny multicolor accent pillow I was holding went for $40.00 (in 1971 - now maybe $150.) The extravagance of such an indulgence was truly beyond my ken. I mean there were zillions of perfectly good throw pillows at Sears for under $5.00 at the time. Why would anyone foolishly pay so much for such a pillow. Then she patiently confided in me that the pillow was suede and actually different colored suedes stitched together and that people were willing to pay a bit more such a pillow. Well, needless to say - end of conversation on my side. Jeesh! Have moved on to acquire some tastes but more importantly to gain some appreciation of how interior designers make public and private spaces not only inhabitable (frequently redressing the oversights of architects) but in some sense permitting the human spirit inhabiting such spaces room within which to play, love and live. And one of the wonderful things about design is that is participatory. For it is in some sense about making your living areas your very own. So, if you get off on knotty pine and colonial - go for it. Just don't invite me for dinner. I start to get this claustrophobic/antsy feeling anticipating the momentary arrival of Ben Franklin. Dream Land Keith Chaffee - 10:04am Jun 11, 1997 PST (#2 of 7)
The most surreal dream I've ever had was in high school. I'm sitting alone in the bleachers of my high school gym, except that instead of the gym floor there's an Olympic-size swimming pool filled with ketchup. Suddenly, the locker room doors burst open, and comes the entire Carter family--Jimmy, Rosalyn, Amy, Billy, even Miz Lillian--all of them stark naked. One by one, they climb to the top of the diving board and leap into the pool, where they splash about, yelling, "Yippee! We're a bunch of french fries!" I've never even begun to understand that one, and I have the strange feeling I probably don't want to. |
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