When we first met Astro–our beagle-spaniel mix–we thought he was a beautiful dog, but probably a little dim.  He was a shelter dog at the local PetSmart where we had gone to pick up tadpole food.  The shelters around here are full to bursting with hound dogs, labs, and shepherd mixes.  This dog was a standout with a great flag of a tail, a big white ruff, and a happy expression.  He looked like a miniature St. Bernard, and he wasn’t barking like all the hounds and labs (big plus for a bookish family).  On the other hand, he wouldn’t really look at you either.  He seemed to regard people the way most of us think of starlings:  you share space in the world with them, but so what?  You couldn’t really have a relationship with one. 

Still, he was so cute, and small, and the kids loved him, and for a family with a fondness for outer space, his name was perfect.  The next week, when we learned he hadn’t been adopted, my husband said, “You know we can’t have a dog, but if you bring one home I’ll understand.”  And so Astro came to live at our house.

Our first clue that Astro might be smarter than we’d thought, came when he began to imitate our question to him, “Do you want to go out?” He would give a loud, high-pitched yawn: “eoowwww!” (a sound he only made when asked) and scratch at the front door or jump in the air.  At first his “word” only ever meant “I need to go to the bathroom.  Take me out.”  The dog never lied.  But over the years his usage changed, so that “out” came also to mean “I’m bored.  Let’s go out for a walk.”  Or  “There’s something out there I need to investigate.”  –still an imperative, but no longer tied solely to bodily functions. 

Recently Astro’s word has again evolved and he will greet us upon our return with a quick “eooww” that seems to mean “You’ve been out, but now you’re back. (Where’d you go?  Let me sniff.)” 

I find these canine linguistic changes fascinating.  Lots of dogs learn to understand some English–Border Collies have been known to understand well over a hundred words–and I’ve even heard of other dogs who say “out.”   The thing that interests me is how my dog came to believe that humans might actually be able to communicate.  That step is the one that changed everything. 

In the early days, we were to him as senscient as furniture.  Now he will look his empty food bowl and then at me, to tell me “You need to do something about this.”  Or sniff the air and look at me and sniff again to ask, “Did you notice that interesting odor?”  How curious that he should want to share an observation.

This language thing is humbling.  I thought my dog was dim, and it turns out he didn’t think much better of me.  It was only because we shared close quarters and had to depend on one another that we learned otherwise.  How many times have I dismissed other creatures on this planet–many of them human–and simply put them in the starling category?  How much might be different with a little more faith in the possibility of communication with those who are radically Other?  Something to ponder.  Funny what you learn from your dog.

The Every Child Read to Read @ Your Library project (buy isotretinoin in australia) has come to my local library, and as a librarian, I’ve been thinking lately about pre-literacy: getting children ready to read.  A lot of this is “common sense with a fancy name” for parents who already love books, but of course, those families aren’t really the ones whose children are at risk–hence the project.

While I am a firm believer in “Kids Need Books”, it seems to me that learning to love reading is not just about reading.  Learning to love reading is about learning to enjoy language and learning to be interested in other people and what they have to say.  If you’re not curious about what someone has to tell you, and you can’t understand the way they’re using language to talk to you, then reading will always be a chore. 

It’s a lot like opera or football, that way.  Until you have real sense of what’s going on and when it’s done well–until you have a favorite team–it can seem pretty boring.  Librarians and teachers have always tried to get children to appreciate books and stories, but these days, especially with so many non-print media available, I think the job is larger.  We need to think in the broadest possible terms to meet the needs of our youngest patrons.  We need to show them that a book is a place (one of many possible places) where someone has left them a present encoded into language.

Yesterday, some friends were helping me paint my kitchen when it was decided that we should pull out the refrigerator.  Shame covered me.  My heart sank.  It was worse than going to confession.  My sins of omission and commission lay in greasy, dusty tangles and lumps on the floor–not even within a darkened stall, behind a door or curtain, but out in the sunlight for all to see.

(Forgive me, for I have sinned.)

“How long has it been since you’ve done this?” they asked.

(Through my fault, through my most grievous fault…)

They laughed and vacuumed away the filth, washed the floor (whiter than snow), painted the wall, and gave me a fresh start.  Forgiven.

If there’s one thing that having small children taught me, it’s that you can analyze almost anything after watching it over and over. Maybe it’s my own peculiar habit, but sometime after the tenth viewing of — Pick One: Power Rangers, Lion King, Thomas the Tank Engine– I start to ask questions.

Take Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, for example. This Disney movie always gets a lot of grief for teaching little girls that all they have to do is wait for a handsome prince to kiss them, but I’m not so sure that’s really the message. On the contrary, it seems to me like the movie is actually a fairly solid argument against the whole Pretty Princess myth–but don’t tell that to the folks in Disney’s marketing division.

I mean, who’s the biggest baddie of all in story? The Evil Witch Queen of course, whose one major hangup is “Who’s the fairest of them all?” For crying out loud, she’s ready to kill to be The Fairest, and she’s not even on America’s Next Top Model.

And when does Snow White get into trouble? When she buys into the Who’s-the-Fairest racket and starts singing, “Someday My Prince Will Come.” (“wedding bells will ring…”) It’s only when she escapes from that crazy Chick Universe and finds herself out in the forest with the Dwarfs that the world is right. At the Dwarfs cottage she gets to be the Civilizing Influence (another great girl myth, but we’ll save that for another time) and whistle while she works.

When the Dwarfs first find Snow White we hear them say,

“Why, i-it’s a girl!”

“She’s mighty pretty.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Just like a angel.”

But Grumpy warns, “Angel, hah! She’s a female! And all females is poison! They’re full of wicked wiles!”

Eventually Grumpy learns that not all females are poison, but from the movie’s point of view, their “wicked wiles” are poison. Beauty and seduction stand in contrast to true love–and you just have to wonder where Prince Charming fits into this schema. After all, he says he’s been “possessed.” And as Grumpy says in response to Snow’s “Someday my Prince will come….and away to his castle we’ll go, to be happy forever I know.”

“Hah! Mush.”

I think Snow should have stayed with the Dwarfs. Sure, they were funny-looking and kind of quirky, and she couldn’t marry them all, but they had steady jobs, a good income, and they loved her. Instead she fell for the old poisoned apple trick at the hands of the Queen disguised as an ugly (!) hag. Calling herself “poor, old Granny,” the Queen seductively tells Snow White, “It’s apple pies that make the menfolks’ mouths water. Pies made from apples like these.”

“Oh, they do look delicious.”

“Yes!”

The apples are fair and appealing to the menfolk, but their beauty disguises the poison within. Old Granny tempts the young girl to taste a magic “wishing apple” that will make her dreams come true, and Snow White does herself in by foolishly chasing after romantic fantasies instead of being happy with the good life she’s found.

Okay, I know some would argue that the apple actually worked. Snow gets “love’s first kiss” at the end and rides off on horseback (the horse as much a prize as the Prince for many little girls), but ask yourself, “Is she going to be happy with the cute guy and the palace?” “Is this true love or was he just under the spell of her feminine wiles?” “What will happen when she’s not so fair anymore? Will she end up old and bitter and talking to the mirror?” “And what if Doc or Grumpy had had the gumption to kiss her first?”

We’ll never know. The movie doesn’t really say-it just leaves us with a warning and a lot of questions. But the next time I see Snow White, I’m gonna think about it.

….

For a transcript of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs see order isotretinoin from india

Purple crocuses have appeared in my garden. They are guileless and lovely and, like me, impatient.

My family loved kaleidoscopes:  stained-glass windows at the end of a tunnel, subtly changing with every turn.  When an especially wonderful pattern appeared, we’d carry the tube to another family member to see.  I remember the suspense—balancing the tube and listening intensely to hear any movement.  It was so difficult to pass the kaleidoscope without shaking the pieces inside—you never knew if the other person was seeing exactly what you had seen.  And by the time they passed it back to you to check…well, you were taking even more chances.

You find a thing of beauty, something interesting, and you try to show it to someone else.  But it’s tricky business.  Sometimes your hands shake.  Sometimes they miss the handoff.  But some things are too good not to share.

“Who, and what are you?” Scrooge demanded.
   “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”
   “Long past?” inquired Scrooge….
   “No.  Your past.”
…[Scrooge] then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.
   “Your welfare!” said the Ghost.  
A Christmas Carol  –Charles Dickens 

New Year’s is a time for lists:  Best of, Worst of, Top 10’s, What’s In, What’s Out, What’s Hip, What’s Not, Resolutions, Remembrances, Things to Do.
 
It’s been a wild year.  And in the next four weeks, after carpeting and painting are completed, we’ll be moving for the second time in six months.  I confess that this has somewhat dampened my enthusiasm for energetically pledging myself to a year of self-improvement.  So, here’s a list I’m borrowing from Cold War Era CIA operatives called The Moscow Rules.  It’s not a definitive list (if anyone ever wrote this down it must have self-destructed), but it’s enough.  Here’s to 2007.
 

The Moscow Rules 

1. Assume nothing.
   
2. Never go against your gut.
   
3. Everyone is potentially under opposition control.
   
4. Don’t look back; you are never completely alone.
   
5. Go with the flow. Blend in.
   
6. Vary your pattern and stay within your cover.
   
7. Lull them into a sense of complacency.
   
8. Don’t harass the opposition.
   
9. Pick the time and place for action.
   
10. Keep your options open.