There’s a wedding just an hour from this beach (four hours from home) so we have a great excuse for a couple of days in my favorite place. It’s our second time this summer and an extra treat. Sadly, fall is almost here; just weeks after we return comes the onslaught of Big Jewish Holidays and lots of praying – and cooking! Good to have this first.
And this
Last Sunday the New York Times reminded us that Bonnie and Clyde, a film seared behind the eyelids of people like me, is 40 years old. I remember it particularly because just after I saw it, I went to a 21st birthday dinner for a friend at her uncle’s home on Park Avenue in Manhattan. I was new to such places then, and, despite my anti-war lefty politics, both thrilled and intimidated – particularly because her uncle was a writer of some renown. For a college senior, it was another experience milestone.
Along with most of adult America, our host had been appalled at the violence of the film. We, on the other hand, argued that the film was an accurate metaphor for the violence in Vietnam; a social comment that spoke deeply to all of us. The argument was long, fierce and audacious — and, of course, unresolved. I haven’t seen the film in many years and am curious how I would react.
I’ve become a lot more sensitive to visual violence as I’ve raised my sons. Beverly Hills Cop was released when my younger son was five. His big brother was nine and really wanted to see it; since we hated leaving Dan behind, he came too. Do you remember the ending? It was a gun battle too but multiples more gory and violent than Bonnie and Clyde ever dreamt of being. The worst part? My son was upset, yes, but the audience barely reacted – and many cheered. Film and TV violence in the years between 1967 and 1984 had escalated slowly, right in front of us – and we had barely noticed. That progression has continued.
It’s a creepy dilemma. I’m a true romantic who revels in love stories like Bull Durham (1988) and Shakespeare in Love (1998), oldies like Now, Voyager (1942) and two I’ve written about before, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)and Rebbecca (1940) as well as decade-old satires like Wag the Dog (1997)and Warren Beatty’s (aka Clyde’s) masterpiece Bulworth (1998). But another of my favorite films is Pulp Fiction (1994)- steeped in violence, much of it random. Silence of the Lambs, too. And of course, The Godfather Trilogy (1972, 1974, 1990) None of these, and other more "realistically violent" films, would have been possible before Arthur Penn brought Bonnie and Clyde to life.
My protective instincts as a mother and activist clash with my respect for the vision of the artist and the gifts those visions can bring to the rest of us. This isn’t a new conversation of course, any more than it was new in 1967. It’s been going on as long as artists have. What’s different this time is that I was a kid when Bonnie and Clyde slammed into our lives; now I’m at least the age of that angry uncle. I know a lot more and that colors how I look at things I don’t know.
I named this blog Don’t Gel Too Soon because I struggle to stay open – available to understand, to appreciate, that which comes next, and to remember that no matter how lovely the lovely there’s more to life than that. And that, after all, if someone doesn’t help us to see it, we can’t join together to change it.
The one and only Jenn Satterwhite has posted this on Mommy Needs Coffee and I just have to pass it on. Have fun!
I was ten in 1956, when the people of Hungary rose up to end the Russian occupation. It was a rout – and they remained under Communist domination until the fall of the Berlin Wall. It’s difficult to explain now just how scary it was to hear of these heroic people crushed in the streets, and, for a child, difficult to place. Could it happen to me? To my family? How did the Russians get there? Why did they care what people did in Hungary?
A couple of years later a local church group sponsored a Hungarian family’s move to the US and their son, our age and pretty good at speaking English, came to dinner at the home of my friend Lois and spoke to a group of us – maybe it was our Girl Scout troop; maybe just a bunch of girlfriends – I’m not sure. He was dramatic and dignified and so happy to be there. Listening to him and the stories of those he’d left behind was a haunting experience – especially in the mind of a romantic politicized 13 year old mad for JFK.
I hadn’t thought about any of this in years, but this summer TNT brings us The Company – a history of the CIA — and of the Hungarian tragedy of 1956. From the perspective of 50 years it’s still so sad, even through the gauze of TV melodrama – and the freedom and prosperity of Hungary today doesn’t mitigate much.
I’ve kept my eye on what happened in the East since then. We took our kids through Czechoslovakia and East Germany while they were still behind the Iron Curtain. We couldn’t get the boys dry socks after a heavy rain because, as the storekeeper told us “we don’t have socks today.” We gave all our Bruce Springsteen tapes to our guide; each one would have cost him a month’s pay on the black market.
I’ve even been to Pottsdam. That photo on the left is the bridge where spies were exchanged during the days of the Cold War. So it’s not like I don’t know what happened historically. Once in a while though the recreation of reality, even with Hollywood gloss, slams me back where I was for a little while.
That’s all – I’ve been sitting here trying to think of a real ending for this – and I can’t — no massive summary available. Good night.
I’m a big William Gibson fan. His new book Spook Country —
just arrived and I’m struggling to wait to start it on an upcoming beach
weekend instead of plunging in like I did with Harry Potter. It was
he – and his book Neuromancer,
published in 1984, that led me onto the Internet in the early 90s, well before most of my
friends. Once I dove into cyberspace (Gibson coined the word) I never
looked back.
Neuromancer was Gibson’s first book . Much of his early work was a dark view of a connected
world full of data pirates and megacities ("the Sprawl" in the US and
"Chiba City" in Japan) with skies, in one of his most famous quotes, "the color of television, tuned to a dead
channel."
I believed as I read Neuromancer and then all of his subsequent work that it was a preview of a
possible future and that parts of it were already on their way.
This appeared in Reuters today: U.S. consumers this year will spend more of
their day surfing the Internet than reading newspapers or going to the
movies or listening to recorded music, according a study released on
Tuesday. The report comes from the highly-regarded private equity firm
Veronis Suhler Stevenson, which examined consumer behavior to inform investment strategies. Where would future ad money (hence revenue, hence good investments, I assume) go?
When I began working online, I encouraged clients to include
their URLs in their ads and on their business cards. In the 90s, a major LA newspaper ran ad trailers in local movie theaters. Of course I urged them
to include their website URL at the end of the ad. Concerned about cannibalizing the print product , they declined to do so. I tell you this just to demonstrate how much has changed and how little many thought leaders realized what was going on around them (I also once heard Michael Eisner – on a public panel – call the Internet a fad – but that’s another story.)
The study goes on to report
that TV still rules: “in 2006 consumers
spent the most time with TV, followed by radio, which together combined for
nearly 70 percent of the time spent with media. That was followed by recorded
music at 5.3 percent, newspapers at 5 percent, and the Internet at 5 percent.” It then predicts that this year “the Internet will move up to 5.1 percent,
while newspapers and recorded music each move down to 4.9 percent.”
Here’s a final thought – a little out there but not totally unreasonable considering the Gibson constituency. Wikipedia tells us "in his afterword to the 2000 re-issue of Neuromancer, fellow author Jack Womack goes as far to suggest that Gibson’s vision of cyberspace may have inspired the way in which the internet developed, (particularly the World Wide Web) after the publication of Neuromancer in 1984. He asks: What if the act of writing it down, in fact, brought it about?"
I couldn’t take any pix on Friday night or Saturday because of the Sabbath so I don’t have very many photos and most of what I have aren’t worthy but here are three anyway.
Babyfruit’s Aliza Sherman in braids! I’ve known this woman a long time – with big gaps in time we’re happy to have closed. I knew her during Cybergrrl and served with her on the AAUW Commission on Technology, Gender, and Teacher Education. She’s a Web pioneer, a wonderful person and a great writer.
The BlogHer Big Three — and don’t we love them!
Cooper Munroe of TheMotherHood and BlogHers Act listens as action items are proposed for this launch-year’s actions on Global Health.
That’s all she wrote but it was a great great time!
This post is a valentine. I learned at the Blog Her 07 Conference – in a story telling panel, that a story is a series of unanswered questions – answered gradually over time. But I have to start with the answer today because it informs everything else.
That answer begins with the three women in this photograph – (left to right) Elisa Camahort, Lisa Stone and Jory des Jardin, whose vision led to the gathering of almost 800 women who streamed into Chicago for the third annual BlogHer Conference. From its small beginnings in 2005, this conference and the community surrounding it has become something far more than the sum of its parts. The reason for its success and for the remarkable warmth and commitment to the community from the community emerges from this trio’s commitment to building concept, content and structure from the ideas, perspectives and attitudes of the bloggers — us — ourselves.
It’s tough to describe the high of so many powerful, rebellious women gathered in one place – dressed up, made up (this photo is from Suburban Turmoil) and smart as whips. Why begin with "dressed up, made up?" Because I’m old enough to remember when women only got dressed up when they were dressing for men. Now we dress for one another; our joy in one another’s company is boundless. Most of the women I spent the weekend with are too young to remember that, but for me it’s one of many wondrous facts emerging from this conference. Times have changed.
Then too, the entire conference empowers us. In fact, one of the major BlogHer initiatives is the product of an idea from just two bloggers: Cooper Munroe and Emily McKhann (That’s Cooper on the left.) They and BlogHer’s founders have created BlogHers Act and it’s about to become a year-long initiative on global health issues — topic and focus chosen by BlogHers. How did it happen? A survey seeking nominations for topics and then a vote that chose global health. It’s an exciting enterprise — all generated from within the BlogHer community
The rest of the conference was also quite wonderful. Some details:
*That Art of Storytelling panel I mentioned, which I attended almost by accident, was moving in its honesty and support of artfully structured storytelling rather than the impulsive writing that blogging can become. Birdie Jaworski, Claire Fontaine and Ree were the generous, inspiring speaker and their words will stay with me for a long time.
*Another, on branding and promoting yourself and your blog, was fascinating. I’ve been in journalism most of my life and know all the obvious "tricks" people use to get attention, but there’s lots of thought and planning beyond that stuff and, even more importantly, serious discipline.
*Since the Presidential election is [only?] a year away, there was a Get Out the Vote panel too – with some real heavyweights brought together by BlogHer political editor Morra Aarons: Kim Gandy from NOW, and BlogHer’s own Lisa Sabatier (seen together in this photo) and others.
There was a second political panel, Earn Our Votes – also organized by Morra – to select issues women bloggers wanted to see the candidates focus on.
*I co-chaired a Media Training – which I had proposed because blogging women are of so much more interest to reporters but aren’t all experienced in managing those relationships- with Rachel of Sarcastic Journalist. We had great questions – the audience set the agenda for the panel and we got lots of positive feedback, which felt great.
Most of all – beyond the sessions and the very interesting keynotes was the community that BlogHer is. If I write too much about it I’ll get all goopy (I do do that) but in an era of Third Wave and post modern and generational blah blah these few days bring together women of all sorts in a common space, help them find common ground and just plain have a wonderful time – with one another.
If that doesn’t deserve a valentine, I don’t know what does.
I am in the most amazing session on BlogHers Act and global health. I’ll tell you more later but it is thrilling.
I’m a blogger, a producer, a consultant, a writer, a mom and a wife. I spent many years in network TV news then fell for the Web and never looked back. I love working with women; most of my jobs have been staffed largely by women (TODAY show, iVillage, Amazon etc.) and I’ve loved that. My grown sons are remarkable and have enhanced my life and inspired my work (kids book reviews, kids TV, news stories about family issues and family policy – all things I would never have thought of if they hadn’t been around.). I love to travel and my gypsy husband has taken us all over the world. Recently he and I have chosen to live an observant Jewish life that is surprisingly challenging, sometimes frustrating, always exciting and often inspiring. The women’s blogging movement and its manifestations at BlogHer, whose founders are so responsible for it, excite, move and inspire me. I love and admire my blogging sisters from Pittsburgh to
. What a wonderful parallel universe we’ve created!
OK so this movie was made in 1940 — way before I was even born! I read the book in 9th or 10th grade and saw the movie a couple of times late a night and probably with my sisters, pretzels and mustard. And commercials. Even so it had a profound effect on me then – and, apparently, now.
It’s on TCM — I usually have the TV on when I’m working. But I keep having to go back and forth between Rebecca and Angel – ANgel for God’s sake! — because it’s just about unbearable. This poor girl (she doesn’t even get a name – just "the second Mrs. deWinter) is a mouse – pathetic and scared. Everything she does is a mistake. Right now she’s begging her new husband for a costume ball like the ones Rebecca used to hold — I had to turn it off. I know she’s going to wear Rebecca’s costume — know what will happen – and I, of course, unlike Joan Fontaine, know the truth about the witchy, Rebecca herself. I can still see the flames — oh but I don’t want to tell you the ending — maybe you’ll see it yourself some day with your stomach in your mouth in mortification for this poor girl.
As I was writing this I realized that there’s another romantic tale — from a Bronte 100 years earlier – where the ending involves a fire; it’s another book I loved – made into a film – Jane Eyre. Wikipedia says there were 5 silent film versions and have been 10 film versions (they count Rebecca in that – apparently it was a "tribute" based on Jane Eyre so I guess this comparison isn’t very original, alas) and 7 TV versions. Another mousy dreamer – another poor girl making her own way (maybe with more of a spine though), another strong, angry man with a deep painful secret. How embarrassing that I still love both stories – remember where I sat when I first read each book and can’t quite avoid either film when it pops up on TV.
Rebecca may not have – as Maxim deWinter so desperately feared – "won in the end" but her successor – and Jane – won my heart long ago and I guess there’s no point in fighting it. Always, always, the phrase "last night I dreamed I went to Manderlay again" will strike images and memories of my days as a dreamy girl whose literary journeys to great but unhappy mansions and great but horribly haunted love affairs were such perfect gifts.
