Monthly Archives: March 2023

Book Review:  Storyteller by Dave Grohl (Audiobook)

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I admit, it took me a little longer than usual to get through Storyteller:  Stories of Life and Music by Dave Grohl, but it certainly didn’t disappoint.  It is one of the best memoirs I’ve read.  Considering his current stature in the world of pop rock/alternative, whatever you want to call it, as a drummer, his humble nature shines through.  It all started with his pure love of pop rock, namely the Beatles, moving on to the punk scene of the late 70s and early 80s, and making it big with Nirvana and grunge.  Today, it seems as though Dave Grohl has settled in as drummer and girl dad extraordinaire.  If planning on reading the book, I highly recommend the audiobook version as he reads his own memoir.  There is nothing quite like hearing about Nirvana’s early days and the danger of their exploding fan base from the drummer himself.  Then there are the well-placed expletives in his internal monologue as he meets his musical heroes and juggles world tours with daddy-daughter dances and musical projects with Joan Jett.

There is so much that stands out that it is hard to know where to even begin.  First, the unwavering support of his teacher mother is undoubtedly one of several keys to his success.  She supported – or put with – his love of music and his decision to drop out of high school in order to tour the United States with a band.  Dave’s description of his discovery of punk rock at the hands of a formerly “preppy” family friend is memorable, as is his realization that she was in a punk band herself.  It sets the stage for what is to come.

His description of his life between dropping out of high school and eventually joining Nirvana is as hazy and transient as his life at that time.  It’s great and easy to imagine.  Opportunities to fill in and drum with his idols Iggy Pop and Tom Petty standout as it is clear that Dave was as star-struck as can be at the time.

Frankly, the section in Seattle with Nirvana is just sad as we all know how it ended.  Dave’s descriptions of Nirvana’s meteoric rise to infamy is gut-wrenching to read and full of danger.  He describes in spectacular detail playing venues far too small for how big Nirvana had grown in such a short amount of time thanks to MTV and “Smells like Teen Spirit.”  After Kurt Cobain’s death, Dave understandably took some time to process everything and ground himself once again.

Given the timeline, it appears that Dave developed Foo Fighters and started his family at roughly the same time, both growing together.  For me, the best part of the book involves Dave’s descriptions of juggling life with his three daughters and superstardom.  Stories involve things such as Paul McCartney giving his eldest daughter her first piano lesson and Joan Jett reading his daughters bedtime stories.

The Joan Jett story is one of my favorites.  It starts with Dave in the Barbie aisle helping his daughters pick out a doll and coming across a Joan Jett doll.  His girls didn’t realize that Joan Jett was a real person.  Soon, Joan herself was over to their house working on some musical project with Dave, when his oldest daughter asked her if she would read them a bedtime story.  She did .. in her pjs.

Then there is the story of the daddy-daughter dance.  It involves a whirlwind trip to Australia and back to make the dance, the Australian tour itself, and a horrific bout of food poisoning.  Yet, he made it and didn’t break his little girls’ hearts.

Above all, it is a series of stories about following your dreams, hard work, fame (or infamy), family, and music.  Dave’s descriptions of conversations with his dad are touching in the end.  In the beginning, it seemed as though Dave hated his dad due to his conservative politics and his parents’ divorce.  While much of Dave’s relationship with his dad remained complicated prior to his fame, it does seem as though they made up in the years before his father passed away.  It also appears that Dave took his dad’s financial and career advice.

While I didn’t outline it here, there are plenty of rock star stories from the road in the book as well.  They are just as good.  Dave appears to have found a balance between his career and family both in the memoir and in real life.  If you love music at all or just enjoy memoir, check it out.

Book Review:  The Reading List by Sara Nisha Adams

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The overall message of The Reading List by Sara Nisha Adams far outweighs anything else I can say about the book.  Are the characters relatable and well-developed?  Yes.  I found myself cheering them on throughout the entire book.  Would I say that they are the best or most important aspect of the book?  No.  The relationships they develop with one another are much more interesting.  Above all, the role that the local library and the reading list plays in the plot and the development of the relationships between various characters is the real story.

The main protagonists, Aleisha, a young teenage girl with a troubled home life who works at the library over the summer at the suggestion of her older brother, and Mukesh, a widower who struggles to regain his sense of purpose after the loss of his wife of decades, Naina, meet at the local library.  The unlikely friendship that unfolds after their first unpleasant meeting sets the stage for all that follows that fateful summer, changing both of their lives irrevocably.

Set in the quiet London Borough of Ealing, the local library serves as a focal point for the community, even if it is well-loved and in search of additional patrons.  The reading list Aleisha finds, labeled “just in case you need it,” ultimately brings several people together in unexpected ways.  It is this list that I find to be the most interesting aspect of the book.  It is obvious that The Reading List was written by a bibliophile for bibliophiles.

The following reading list is found in the book:

In Case You Need It …

The Time Traveler’s Wife * (discussed in the book, but not included on the list)

To Kill a Mockingbird

Rebecca

The Kite Runner

Life of Pi

Pride and Prejudice

Little Women

Beloved

A Suitable Boy

______________________

From the Author …

Jhumpa Lahiri, The Namesake

Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Zadie Smith, White Teeth

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Americanah

Katherine Heiny, Standard Deviation

Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance

Hiromi Kawakami, Strange Weather in Tokyo

Angela Carter, The Magic Toyshop

Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Attia Hosain, Sunlight on a Broken Column

Ali Smith, There But For The

Ultimately, The Reading List is about how books and libraries can bring us together.  It is a great message that more people need to hear.  While I don’t often hear it anymore, there are still some people who do not recognize the modern importance of libraries.  Personally, I believe that they are more important than ever.  I am grateful that my local libraries appear to be doing well and have a lot of local support.  I can’t imagine life without them.  What makes The Reading List so powerful is the demonstration of how various characters connect over books and how those connections impact their lives.  The right books seem to appear at just the right time.  I feel for anyone who has not had that experience.  I cannot recommend The Reading List enough.

Yes.  I do intend to eventually read through both lists.

Omer, Michigan

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Recently, I realized that I mention my hometown extensively without providing many details.  Unfortunately, many readers – even seasoned Michiganders – might have no idea where Omer, Michigan is.  It is just under an hour north of Bay City.  If you take the 188 Standish exit off of I-75, you will likely end up on US 23 north in Standish.  Omer is the next small town, approximately 7 miles north on US 23.  A bridge over the Rifle River, a caution light, and a set of railroad tracks are all landmarks to let you know that you have traveled through the city.

Being from Omer, Michigan isn’t for the faint of heart.  For decades, the city of Omer has held the distinction of being Michigan’s smallest city, boasting a population just shy of 300 souls.  Living in a small town does not come without its hazards.  Nothing remains private for long.  Both of my parents grew up in the area as well, with both of their families having ties to the area going back generations.  Growing up attending Standish-Sterling Community Schools, not only was I a teacher’s kid as my mom spent most of her teaching career at Standish Elementary, our family business, Russell Canoe Livery, meant that my family was well-known in both Omer and Standish.  In fact, Omer has no school, aside from a Head Start program aimed at preschoolers.  When Omer’s school burned down in the early days of the 20th century, it was never rebuilt.

Sadly, despite its location in the heart of Arenac County and its one-time status as the county seat, little remains of a once thriving city.  Today, the Arenac Country Historical Society works to preserve the Old Courthouse, the lone remaining structure to tell Omer’s cautionary tale.  During the early part of the 20th century, roughly 1905-1918, Omer experienced a series of natural disasters (namely fires, floods, and tornadoes) that nearly destroyed the city.  Throughout the 80s and 90s, the local diner, first known as Cody’s and later Ziggy’s (now a Dollar General), had disposable placemats outlining Omer’s history, including the natural disasters.

Originally named Rifle River Mills, Omer’s identity has always depended on the Rifle River.  In the late 19th century, lumber from dense northern Michigan forests traveled rivers such as the Rifle to the sawmills in the south, namely in Bay City and Saginaw.  In fact, our main location in Omer, our smaller campground, is the remains of an old mill pond.  In fact, it becomes easy to imagine the pond if you look at the current topography of the campground.  Today, the Rifle River is used exclusively for recreational purposes – fishing, canoeing, kayaking, rafting, tubing, and more.  One day last summer, I saw two young girls in bathing suits walking down Carrington St. carrying their canoe.  It is forever frozen in my mind as the most “Omer” thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Today, Omer is home to three campgrounds, two of which are also canoe liveries, Russell Canoe Livery and Campgrounds, Inc., being the largest.  In addition, Omer is home to Meihls Mechanical, a self-storage business that is continually growing, Dollar General, the Sunrise Side Senior Center, a library attached to city hall, a post office, a small park with basketball hoops and playground, the Old Courthouse, and not much else.  While not exactly thriving, the city itself looks better than it has in decades, closed Rob’s Auto and Greg’s Market aside.

Today, Omer is relatively well known for two things:  the local sucker run and witchy wolves.  The sucker run deserves it own post.  As it will be starting soon, stay tuned.  My piece on the witchy wolf legend, dating back to right after the US Civil War, can be found here.  Omer will never be perfect, but it will always home.

Paul McCartney and Wings – Give Ireland Back to the Irish (1971)

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Picture used as the album cover of Wildlife (1971), Wings’ first album. Photo Credit: Barry Lategan

Paul McCartney and Wings – Give Ireland Back to the Irish (1971) (Video) (Lyrics)

(Written March 19, 2023)

Paul McCartney never disappoints, and “Give Ireland Back to the Irish” can be considered a perfect demonstration of the breadth and depth of his talents.  This past winter, December 2022 to be exact, The 7” Single Box Set hit stores.  This monster encompasses 80 seven-inch vinyl singles dating from his Wings and solo careers, spanning over 50 years of musical history (1971-2022).  Easily retailing for hundreds of dollars, the idea works as vinyl continues to come roaring back thanks to collectors and the lack of a better medium.  What could be better than listening to music the way it was originally intended?  As I have no vinyl collection and my days of collecting physical music (my CD collection in the 90s, early 00s) are long over, it never occurred to me to find the collection digitally.  Fortunately, that is precisely what I did, and for that, I am grateful.  “Give Ireland Back to the Irish” shines in the collection as the gem it is.

Rediscovering my favorite Wings hits, along with Paul McCartney’s extensive back catalog of solo work, made listening to The 7” Single Box Set a guilty pleasure.  “Give Ireland Back to the Irish” definitely caught my attention.  First, I had forgotten how much I love the song.  It also hit me how easy it is to forget that Paul McCartney can actually rock all on his own, silly love songs aside.  I still consider it among the best protest songs of all time.

Then there is the significance of the song.  Growing up in the 80s and 90s, I devoured the news daily.  I learned about “the Troubles” at a young age, and it is still something I will never understand.  Hatred between Catholics and Protestants?  It didn’t make sense.  Differences of opinion and belief?  Yes.  Hatred?  No.  It went against not only everything I had experienced as a child in my daily life, it also went against everything I had been taught to believe.

First, my father’s extended family is roughly half Catholic and half various Protestant denominations.  While my family and I belong to the Methodist church, my paternal first cousins were raised in the Catholic Church.  As a toddler, I attended cousin Nicole’s first Communion.  When my Russell grandparents married in 1943, my Protestant great grandmother, Dad’s Grandma Russell, supposedly didn’t originally like the idea of her youngest son marrying a Catholic.

Next, Standish, Michigan, the site of my entire K-12 education, is largely Catholic.  I spent my early childhood watching my classmates attend Catechism on Wednesday evenings.  My Catholic classmates knew my beloved Joyce – my neighbor, babysitter extraordinaire, and adopted grandmother – from 3rd grade Catechism as she taught Catechism for nearly three decades.  I watched in envy that spring as the Catholic girls dressed up as miniature brides to make their first Communion.  Later, as an adult, Mom shared with me that she’d felt the same way watching her Catholic best friends make their first Communions decades before.

Finally, our neighbors were Catholic.  Not only were they Catholic, they were the most devote Catholics I’ve ever known.  It is no secret that my brother, sister, and I adored Joyce and Carl.  On Saturday afternoons, Joyce could often be found ironing all of the linens about to be used in Mass later that evening.  Earlier in my childhood, my parents actually used to go out from time to time on Saturday evenings.  Joyce could babysit, but there was one catch: my sister Erica and I would be attending Mass with her family, as would our brother Garrett years later.

Much to my Methodist grandmother’s amusement, her Catholic friends would comment on seeing my sister and I, dressed up and on our best behavior, in Mass with Joyce and her family, looking cherubic.  Erica and I may have attended the local Catholic church more than our Methodist church in our earliest years.  Those Saturday evenings are among some of my best memories of time spent with Joyce, Carl, Karla, and Joelle.

Even as a young child, I recognized the cognitive dissonance required for me to hate Catholics.  It would have meant hating many of the very people closest to me throughout my childhood – friends, family, teachers, etc. – solely based on religion.  Considering my paternal grandmother’s Ukrainian/Polish heritage, it would almost demand some level of self-hatred.  I will never even begin to understand.

Supposedly Paul McCartney’s family was a mixture of Catholic and Protestant as well, which would explain “Give Ireland Back to the Irish.”  Even given his level of fame, the song took a certain amount of courage to write and record, particularly in the aftermath of the Beatles and the formation of Wings.  The lyrics say it all:

Great Britain you are tremendous

And nobody knows like me

But really what are you doin’

In the land across the sea?

Lyrics:  Paul McCartney/Linda McCartney

The Corrs – Runaway (1995)

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The Corrs – Runaway (1995) (Official Video) (Lyrics)

(Written March 17, 2023)

It seemed appropriate to share a beautiful song by an Irish band on St. Patrick’s Day.  I fell in love with the entire album when it first came out, even though it wasn’t exactly the music I was into at the time.  It certainly has held up.

I hope to revisit Ireland one day.  I only spent a long weekend in Dublin while studying abroad in the United Kingdom, and yet, it left a deep impression on me.  I have yet to travel anywhere where I felt so at home.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!  More to come on Ireland in the week ahead.

Morcheeba – Rome Wasn’ t Built in a Day (2000)

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Morcheeba – Rome Wasn’ t Built in a Day (2000) (Official Video) (Lyrics)

(Written March 6, 2023)

I wish I could convey to today’s teenagers and young adults how much freedom we had in the late 1990s/pre-September 11th, 2001.  I consider myself fortunate to have grown up just enough to enjoy all that that time period had to offer.  Those years, roughly 1996-2001, still loom large in my life.  What a soundtrack I could create for that time!  Morcheba’s Rome Wasn’t Built in a Day would feature front and center.  It is upbeat, optimistic, and fun in a way that is sorely missing today.  The video is infectious and fits the song perfectly.

I don’t remember exactly when I first heard the song, but it will always remind me of my summer in London.  My freshman year at Michigan State, I had no doubt that I’d study abroad.  The only questions that remained were:  when, where, how, and why.  I settled into life at Michigan State with my mom’s experience studying abroad in the United Kingdom in the ‘70s firmly in the back of my mind, oblivious to the profound impact it would all have on my life.

From all the stories I grew up with, I could tell that studying abroad loomed large in my mom’s college experience.  It’s clear that she loved every minute of it.  Interestingly, I’m not sure if it would’ve happened without my dad.  When my mom wanted to marry my dad before graduating from Central Michigan University, my grandparents handled it brilliantly.  They suggested that she study abroad before she married.  I don’t know if she would have taken that step otherwise.  I’m just glad that she did and shared those stories with me.  I doubt she knows the extent to which they inspired me.

Spring semester 2000, the professor in my freshman literature class passed out a flier for a short term study abroad program in the United Kingdom that summer.  Even though I would be taking another literature course I didn’t necessarily need, I’d be able to finish up my required humanities credits.  A summer in London sounded perfect.  I couldn’t sign up fast enough.  In the end, I would spend five weeks in the heart of London (Bloomsbury) and one week in Glasgow, Scotland.  For the first time, I would be away from my family and the canoe livery for an extended period of time during the summer.

Russell Square Station just happened to be the closest tube stop to the University of London and Commonwealth Hall. Sadly, Russell Sq. Station was bombed in an act of terrorism on 7 July 2005.

It’s funny what I’ve taken away from the entire experience.  First, I became an addict.  I became addicted to studying abroad.  As soon as I returned to Michigan, I knew that I wanted to spend at least one full semester studying abroad.  I hadn’t given up Spanish just yet and spending a semester (minimum) in a Spanish-speaking country seemed a foregone conclusion.  The width and breadth of Michigan State University’s Office of Study Abroad did not make it easy – or maybe a little too convenient.  The choices seemed endless.  I couldn’t make up my mind between a semester in Caceres, Spain or Quito, Ecuador.  Ultimately, I didn’t have to choose.  With my parents’ blessing and plenty of scholarship opportunities, I did both.  In the end, I participated in five separate study abroad programs through Michigan State and three alternative spring break programs in Mexico (two in Merida and one in Puebla).  The two study abroad programs not mentioned above were short term programs studying business in Mexico (one in Monterrey and one in Merida).  I could not have asked for a better education.  I like to think that it all started with that summer in London.

When I finally returned to campus, I landed a position as a peer advisor in what was then called the Office of Study Abroad on campus.  I spent my time working in the Office of Study Abroad helping students plan their own study abroad experiences.  To this day, it is the best job I’ve ever held (Russell Canoe Livery exempted, of course).

In addition to becoming an addict, my experiences in London and Glasgow left me with the sense that I could take on just about anything.  I grew up in Michigan’s smallest city, Omer, Michigan.  Attending one of the largest universities in the United States, Michigan State University definitely resulted in culture shock, and yet, it was nothing compared to what I experienced living in London during that time period.

In essence, London and Glasgow represented an awful lot of firsts in my life.  For the first time in my life, I had easy access to world class museums and theatres.  In fact, the program I completed focused extensively on the Arts and Crafts movement.  Not only did I have the opportunity to visit the Victoria and Albert (the V&A), we often visited various exhibits as part of class.  One free weekend, I explored the Louvre with friends, traveling to Paris via the Chunnel shortly after it opened.  I also experienced all the pomp and circumstance of the British monarchy as the Queen Mum turned 100 years old that summer.  A closeup I’d taken of a Bobby while witnessing the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace didn’t win the Office of Study Aboad’s photography contest, but it did end up in their catalog for the following year.  I still have the catalog and countless memories.

Every time I hear Rome Wasn’t Built in a Day, I am instantly transported back to that time in London, to the 19 year old I once was, so many opportunities unfolding before me for the first time.  I can imagine myself rushing to catch the tube to class or the V&A each morning from Russell Square Station.  I envision myself catching the train to Bath after a failed attempt to spend a weekend of adventure in Wales or heading to the airport to spend the weekend in Dublin.  I can’t think of anything more powerful than the ability of music to transport you back to a time and place.

Character Study – Gwen (The Condition by Jennifer Haigh)

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I’ve been fairly open about my struggles with Turner Syndrome over the years (you can read my story here), but it still amazes me to see Turner Syndrome – along with certain aspects of myself – depicted in popular culture.  Lately, I’ve been thinking about how those representations influence perception and so much more.  Both well-known depictions of Turner Syndrome, one a “victim” in the Law and Order:  Special Victims Unit titled “Clock” (hint:  turns out she isn’t a victim at all) and the other, Gwen, the protagonist in the popular novel The Condition by Jennifer Haigh, have issues and inaccuracies, and yet, there are certain truths that shine through.  Personally, I have yet to meet a woman or girl with Turner Syndrome who isn’t as stubborn as we are portrayed in popular culture.  It is quite simple, actually:  We have to be.

Even though these images of women and girls with Turner Syndrome, along with their accuracy (or lack thereof), have been analyzed to death in the Turner Syndrome community, that isn’t my intention here.  No.  My intention is to describe my experience of seeing aspects of myself in relation to Turner Syndrome in Gwen in The Condition.  I am discussing my experiences only.

Frankly, while I enjoyed The Condition, it isn’t a book that I would necessarily reread in its entirety.  Yet, there are scenes, plots, and subplots in which I couldn’t help but see myself mirrored in Gwen – not as a woman, but as a woman with Turner Syndrome.  It is those pieces and depictions that have stayed with me for well over a decade at this point.  There are several things Gwen is faced with in the novel that most women will, fortunately, never have to face.

The opening scene still takes my breath away.  In it, Gwen’s father, who later becomes almost obsessed with the fact that she has Turner Syndrome, watches Gwen tag along with her slightly older female cousin at the beach.  He observes them as they run into the ocean.  The difference in their height and body structure is noticeable.  Gwen’s body remains almost childlike while her cousin’s decidedly does not.

Growing up with older female cousins, particularly my cousin Abby (10 months my senior), I couldn’t help but compare my body to theirs.  I always wanted to catch up but never could.  I distinctly remember one December shopping with my aunt, cousins, sister, and mom.  I desperately wanted to be able to finally buy clothes in the misses section (not kids, not juniors …) like my older cousins.  Nope.  Not yet.  Even though I was now in high school, it would have to wait.  In that opening scene of the novel, I could distinctly visualize Abby and I swimming somewhere as preteens.  In my head, I was the one comparing.

Later, Gwen is described as hiding herself away from the world in a job in which she remains in the background.  Now in her late 20s/early 30s, she wears jeans, t-shirts/sweatshirts, and sneakers everyday, all often too big for her.  Given the choice, I’d be right there with her (and am when I can).  Quite simply, it is often difficult to find clothes that fit correctly if you are a woman with Turner Syndrome.

A few years ago, I tried on a top while shopping with my mom.  I loved the color, the style – everything – except the fit that wasn’t quite right.  I came out of the dressing room to ask her opinion.  My mom almost mumbled under her breath:  “Damn Turner’s body!”  I found it hysterical because that is precisely what I was thinking.  I just needed it verified.  As much as I love the button-downed look, I could purchase blouses three sizes up and still suffer from gap-osis.  Sadly, fashion is a struggle at times.

At the end of the novel, I can’t help but root for Gwen.  She is so fed up with her family members’ actions and reactions to the life she has created for herself and the fact that she finally met someone that she runs off to the Caribbean to be with her new boyfriend.  Considering how her family treats her and reacts to different aspects of her life, I can’t say that I blame her.  Her new life in the Caribbean sounds fantastic.

I admit, I am extremely guarded about my personal life as well.  It is just that I’ve always needed space.  Throwing infertility into the mix is never easy.  The idea that someone you love would have to give up having biological children of their own to be with you …  Well, unfortunately, that is reality in many cases.  I pray that it will get better with age, and in some ways, it already has.

When I finished The Condition all those years ago, my immediate reaction was one of wonder.  Did Jennifer Haigh have Turner Syndrome herself?  Did her best friend?  Who did she interview to get into our heads so well – or at least my head?  I loved the title of the book.  One may think that “the condition” references Turner Syndrome, but in reality, in the book, each member of Gwen’s family battles demons of their own, even without a diagnosis.

I am a firm believer that everyone has something – some huge hurdle he or she needs to overcome in life.  Everyone has a story.  As The Condition lingered in my mind, I couldn’t help but feel “seen” in a way I’ve never experienced in a book.  As a teacher, it reinforces the need to expose students to as many diverse books as possible. Unfortunately, when we talk about diversity in literature, we too often just focus on race, religion, and sexuality.  The reality is that there are so many other stories out there and so many other ways to view diversity. This is one reason why I wish everyone would share their story in some way, shape, or form.  No one is ever truly alone.

By the way, if you happen to be the parent of a girl with Turner Syndrome, I can’t recommend the National Turner Syndrome Camp enough.  I attended two years, and it allowed me to meet others with Turner Syndrome for the first time.  It also boosted my confidence in a way that nothing else ever has.