Poll #1 Results

Thank you to everyone who voted in the first poll. The results are in. Below I will interpret the results and tell you what's right or wrong with your thinking.

What do you think?
I think beer should be served in fast food restaurants. - 42% of the vote
Pro: Beer is delicious in all circumstances and particularly with items such as burgers, tacos, and fried chicken items that are prominent in fast food restaurants.
Con: If you are eating fast food, you are probably driving or about to drive. Drinking and driving just doesn't mix, folks.

I think the world would be better if there were no telephones. - 28% of the vote
Pro: No one likes to hear other people's telephone conversations on the bus or in the airport or in any place where people talk too loud, as it seems that people have gotten more and more boring these days. It's easy to get stuck talking to people you'd rather not talk to. There are annoying cell phone commercials.
Con: If there were no phones, and written communication came back into dominance, I'd have to deal with poor spellers, and poor spellers annoy me.

I think dinosaurs are awesome. - 42% of the vote
Pro: They do look pretty cool.
Con: They could stomp on you and eat you. Possibly slimy.

I think dinosaurs got what they deserved. - 14% of the vote
Pro: If they were still alive, they could stomp on you and eat you.
Con: No one deserves mass extinction.

Libraries for all! - 28% of the vote
Pro: Libraries foster a passion for the world.
Con: None.

Be sure to vote in the next poll!

Here be dragons

Today Dad and I went to Dragon China for lunch. I had General Tso's chicken. Do you ever go have Chinese with people, and they're always asking who General Tso is? That seems to happen to me a lot. That's why I included the link. But General Tso never even had this chicken, so I am sad for him.

The real point of this post comes down to fortune cookies. My dad got a fortune that said, "You will have an almost perfect day. Enjoy it." I got a fortune that said, "Here we go. Low fat whole wheat green tea."

That's all it said.

Now, I am a person who enjoys making decisions based on horoscopes and fortunes and the like. So things like this really throw me into a tailspin of doubt and confusion. I got back to the office and Googled the fortune, only to find lots of other blogs with people complaining about this fortune. But no one knows what it means! So here is a list of what it could possibly mean.

Possible meanings for "Here we go. Low fat whole wheat green tea."
1. I am going to die within 24 hours. Antidote: low-fat whole wheat green tea
2. I am going to die within 24 hours due to exposure to phrase low fat whole wheat green tea. I am hypnotized and don't even know it.
3. I will increase my Google hits by repeating the phrase "Low fat whole wheat green tea." Someone will discover me and I will become very famous.
4. The phrase is a code for where drugs are hidden. I will increase my Google hits by repeating the phrase "Low fat whole wheat green tea." The drug lords will hunt me down and kill me.
5. I must go on a mission to find this product. I will either die or become famous for my efforts.
6. I should start a low fat whole wheat green tea business.
7. Why is the tea whole wheat? I don't understand that part.
8. I should start a blog dedicated to low fat whole wheat green tea.
9. Is the "we" in this fortune me and God? Fortune cookies are written by God, right? Where are we "going"?
10. I will bleed low fat whole wheat green tea. Will not be able to get blood transfusions. Might die.
11. I must fast on low fat whole wheat green tea. Must complete #5 first.
12. Low fat whole wheat green tea=fountain of youth?
13. Low fat whole wheat green tea=poison?
14. Horoscopes have been affected by the writers' strike.
15. I am going to marry someone named low fat whole wheat green tea.
16. Low fat whole wheat green tea will become the world's new currency.
17. Stock tip: buy low fat whole wheat green tea.
18. After apocalypse, pockets of low fat whole wheat green tea will still exist. Stock up now.
19. Anything is possible if you imagine it so.
20. That fortune is a tracking device and bobcats might find me and eat me.
21. Marie Osmond might win Dancing with the Stars.
22. I am dehydrated.

Please let me know if you have any insight into this fortune.

apples to apples

Thanksgiving was fun. I made an apple pie. This is Pope John Paul II and the Holy Turkey blessing my pie:


Why aren't there any Black Friday deals at bookstores? Like, every book is $5 between 5 am and 7 am. I would get up for that.

I'm sorry, goats

Right after I wrote my last entry, the 10th installment in my goat death march, I turned my attention to Time Magazine, and had barely read for five minutes before I reached an item about goats. It was a letter in response to the issue about the California wildfires (I am really behind in my magazine reading), with someone suggesting that communities in fire-prone areas should start stocking the land with goats, because they will eat the underbrush that fuels forest fires. Then firefighters, instead of having to worry about fires, just have to worry about taking care of the goats. I did a little internet searching and found out that this is a real idea.

Now, I won’t lie; immediately I thought about writing a story about a goat dying in a fire, but I just can’t do that to these potential heroes. I am too scared of fire to mess up my karma like that. So as much as I have enjoyed thinking of ways that goats who think they are dogs might die, I am calling an end to the series. Consider it a Thanksgiving miracle, goats. Now go eat some brush.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 10

Dan was a ninth-grader at Mountain Town High School. He excelled in the sciences and wanted to be a doctor someday. His biology teacher, Mr. Fezziwig, was his favorite teacher, and biology was the one class of the day where Dan could forget his problems and have confidence in himself.

There was only one time other than biology when Dan could forget his problems, and that was when he was hanging out with his goat, Chester. Chester was a goat who thought he was a dog, and he was Dan’s steady companion. They’d take walks around the lake and play fetch, and Chester was a loyal friend to Dan. Dan liked to feed Chester lollipops, which Chester would eat, stick and all.

Mr. Fezziwig, Dan’s favorite teacher, was an alcoholic who drank away the money from the school that he was supposed to use to buy fetal pigs for dissection. Despondent, and worried about disappointing his promising students by not having the famous ninth-grade biology dissection, Mr. Fezziwig went out on the town to try and find a solution to this problem.

Mr. Fezziwig tried, with no luck, to trap some squirrels. Then he tried to steal mean old Mrs. Hensley’s cat, because no one liked her, but the cat was just as mean as she was. Then he came upon a goat, sleeping in Dan Taylor’s backyard. Too drunk to see the collar around Chester’s neck, he killed the goat and took it to the school.

Dan was worried when Chester didn’t show up for breakfast, but thought his goat was probably just out eating some grass. When he got to biology, though, he had to watch in horror as Mr. Fezziwig dissected his goat. At first, he tried to tell himself that it wasn’t Chester, but when Mr. Fezziwig was showing the students the four-chambered stomach, Dan got a glimpse of lollipop sticks and knew what had happened.

After that day, Dan gave up his dream to be a doctor, and a year later he dropped out of school altogether. He became a drunk like Mr. Fezziwig and slept on a park bench.

Under infidel skies

Richard Shindell is a folk singer that I have liked since high school, when he formed the folk super group Cry Cry Cry with Dar Williams and Lucy Kaplansky. Some interesting facts about Richard Shindell include that he now lives in Argentina and that he once lived in a Zen Buddhist monastery.

Richard Shindell’s newest CD is a covers collection that’s pretty good, not his best but pretty good. He does a song by the Band, and one by Bruce Springsteen, and an obscure Bob Dylan…you get the point. There is this one song that I kept hitting repeat on, and every time, I’d think, I need to look up who wrote this song, because I love it. But the CD case was in my moving boxes and I probably won’t see it again for a long time.

Then last night, Dad and I went to see Jeffrey Foucault, another folk singer that I like. Some interesting facts about Jeffrey Foucault include that he is married to a folk singer named Kris Delmhorst who’s also pretty good, and he, like Richard, was also in a folk super group (Redbird, with Kris and a guy named Peter Mulvey, also good).

Well, perhaps you can see where this is going, but the Richard Shindell cover that I loved was written by Jeffrey Foucault, which I discovered when Jeffrey played it last night. The song is called “Northbound 35,” and it’s on a Jeffrey Foucault CD that I do not have.

It’s just a very evocative song with some haunting lines. Here are both versions.





Perhaps it’s boring to post the same song twice, but I’m obsessed with this song and not really thinking about anything else.

The rest of the Jeffrey Foucault concert was good as well. He played “Ghost Repeater” which is a great song that you can hear by going here: http://www.jeffreyfoucault.com/music.html. I would say he sounded better in person than he does on the CD; I think on the CD he can come across as a bit gravelly, but I guess the CD was recorded in Iowa during their coldest week and perhaps that affected things.

Caroline Herring opened; according to her website she lives in Atlanta these days. She had a really pretty voice but I didn’t love all her songs. One song I did like was called “Paper Gown,” a murder ballad that you can hear by going here: http://www.songsillinois.net/?p=3059. Hopefully it’s okay to link to that web site. I don’t know how to put mp3’s on the ol’ blog here.

They closed with some cover songs that I love, “The Ballad of Spider John” (written by Willis Alan Ramsey, also covered by Jimmy Buffett; sung by Jeffrey); “Across the Great Divide” (written by Kate Wolf, also covered by Nanci Griffith; sung by Caroline); and “The Long Black Veil”(covered by like every musician ever; sung by both of them; this song led Dad to suggest that perhaps Jeffrey and Caroline have something going on, but I certainly hope not, because I like that Kris Delmhorst).

Anyway, if you get a mix CD from me anytime in the future it will probably have “Northbound 35” on it.

Book #29: The Audacity of Hope

The book: The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream by Barack Obama

What is this book about: The book examines policy challenges and how we as a country might start changing our politics for the better, according to Barack Obama.

Why did I read this book: To figure out whether to vote for Barack Obama.

What did I think of this book: As I mentioned when I reviewed Dreams from My Father, Barack Obama is a great writer with a strong command for language. It's too bad that you can't run for president by writing a book. I will say that sometimes my eyes glazed over, reading so much about policy, but overall, the anecdotes were illuminating, albeit, of course, most flattering to Barack Obama.

When this book came out, I read an article in Time Magazine that was sizing up Barack Obama's chances on the national scene. On the plus side, so the article went, Barack is really great at trying to see both sides of an issue, and he's willing to walk a mile in the other person's shoes. On the minus side, according to the article, at some point, we're going to need a guy who can make a decision and stand up for what he believes in, no matter who he might offend. This book pretty much holds up that claim. It seems that Barack Obama really believes that the other side might meet him halfway, and I just don't know if he could quickly build all the consensus he wants before moving forward on some tough issues. All the same, it's nice to see a politician not completely jaded about his political foes and how the system works. You can't fault a guy who truly does believe that we can use politics for good.

What was my favorite part of this book: I liked the anecdote of one of the first meetings between Barack Obama and George W. Bush. From page 46, after shaking Barack's hand:
"The President turned to an aide nearby, who squirted a big dollop of hand sanitizer in the President's hand. 'Want some?' the President asked. 'Good stuff. Keeps you from getting colds.' Not wanting to seem unhygenic, I took a squirt."

What did I learn from this book: Barack Obama is a guy who really seems to understand where this country has been, the challenges that it faces, and the middle ground that we need to achieve to move forward. He's an optimist who believes in the best of this country and in every person he meets. The downside is that he might not know exactly how to move forward with all his big ideas. The question is, is this decency enough to make one elect him the next president? I don't know.

What grade do I give this book: B-

Library saga, continued

Well, I guess I get a library card after all. Here is what has happened since I last posted:

-My dad called a county commissioner that he knows. "If we're going to give illegal immigrants driver's licenses, it seems like she should be able to get a library card," my dad said. "I'm just glad someone wants to read a book," the county commissioner said.

-The county commissioner made some phone calls on my behalf. He told me to call the library director, who would be waiting for my call.

-Before I called the library director, my dad saw another county commissioner, who said that if I still had problems, we should give her a call as well. Clearly, all county commissioners will be touting the achievement of getting me a library card in the next election.

-Today I spoke with the library director. He filled out the application form for me and put a library card in the mail to me, so I should have it by Monday. He asked me to tell him what happened at the branch and said that really, the post office thing was not a hard and fast rule and it really could have gone either way. For one thing, he pointed out, that library branch is next to a post office, so they really should be used to this. But when I suggested changing the website to say what they really want in terms of identification, he demurred, again saying that it was really sort of a discretionary rule.

-While I am happy to have a library card, and thankful to everyone in the process who helped me to obtain one, I will say that the library director was not as outraged as I would have hoped. I will not lie, I was already having fantasies about testifying before the county commissioners and the city council, perhaps in front of a giant banner that said, Libraries for All! And they would have changed the rule of the library system and called it Molly's Rule. And then maybe I could have been in the newspaper, with someone handing me a library card that had been blown up like one of those Publisher's Clearinghouse checks. I thought maybe I would wear my new John Steinbeck shirt for the occasion to promote the importance of literacy. And then I would be so popular and beloved in town that I would run for mayor or they would rename a library for me or something. But now I'm just getting my library card in the mail.

-I do have to wonder, what about all the poor children whose fathers don't know any county commissioners?

-Where was I when the library director returned my call? Barnes & Noble, buying some books.

Rejection

I have been doing some thinking about rejection in the last 16 hours, not counting those hours during which I was asleep, due to a heinous rejection that occurred to me last night.

Last night, at approximately 6 p.m., I entered the Enka-Candler branch of the Asheville-Buncombe Library System. I had these items with me: my Washington state driver’s license and confirmation from the U.S. Post Office that I had moved to Candler, North Carolina. The post office notification includes a little box that says, be sure to keep this document, for many agencies and local offices will require it as evidence of your move. I brought these two things, because according to the library’s website, a combination of identification was acceptable for obtaining a library card.

Now, anyone who knows me in the slightest knows that I love libraries, and I love books, and just because I buy an awful lot of books, doesn’t mean I don’t want free books too. From the time I was four until the time I was in college, I was a card-carrying member of the Asheville-Buncombe Library System in good standing (no late items, no lost items), with a strong level of participation in such youth events as the summer reading program.

So I walk into the library last night, very excited to get a library card. I present my two pieces of identification and explain that I just moved there, and the lady is looking at the paper. Then she tells me that my official letter from the Post Office is not valid, because my current address is a post office box. She needs identification with a street address. She tells me to come back with my light bill or some shit. I am not an official resident of Candler if I receive mail at a post office box. I leave with no library card.

Here are some thoughts:
1-Who the fuck would get a post office box in Candler, and show up at the Candler branch of the library, and not be a resident of Candler? If I were going to get a fake post office box, I think I could do a little better than Candler. Where do you think I live? Sylva? I’m coming up from Sylva every day to get my mail and abuse the library system? I don’t think so.

2-It is not my fault we have a post office box, lady. I live on a frickin dirt road that was arbitrarily numbered for 911 purposes. I can’t get mail there. I’ve gotten mail at that post office box all my life and never gotten too much grief about it.

3-Let’s just do a little comparison here. The Seattle Public Library (which by the way, gave me a library card without any evidence that I lived in Seattle, as far as I can recall) has wireless internet, a ton of computers for public use, and the newest DVDs, CDs, periodicals, and books. The Asheville system has no DVDs, no wireless internet, and I think about 4 computers that patrons can sign up to use. If I were going to abuse a library system, I think I’d pick a better one to abuse. This library should be so lucky to have me reading their old and decrepit books.

4-By the way, do you know who the Seattle Public Library lets use their computers? Homeless people. I guarantee you those people don’t have a piece of identification that has a street address on it.

5-I didn’t throw this one out there last night, but I should have. The light bill is not going to have my name on it. It’s going to my dad. What then, mean librarian?

6-I guess technically I’m not a resident, because I’m not going to change my driver’s license or car tabs or anything until I move to whatever new city I’m going to, eventually. Technically I might not be a resident. Technically that library might be right. But you know what, this little example illustrates why kids can’t read these days and why no one has a love of learning….because we make it too hard for them to access resources.

So anyway, after I excluded all forms of romantic rejection, I identified this rejection by the library as one of the three most painful rejections of my life. Here are the other two:

--Rejection from the elementary school chorus in fifth grade. I have always loved music. I have always just wanted to play an instrument and sing and play little dingy clubs. But one of the cruel facts of my life is that I just can’t sing. I sound awful. This fact was brought home when I did not make the fifth grade chorus. All my friends made it and I didn’t. I thought the world was over.

--Rejection from TJ Maxx due to ethical reasons. I have been rejected by a lot of employers, but it’s something one gets used to. The most painful job rejection, however, might be the TJ Maxx in Asheville. First off, you have to understand that TJ Maxx was having a “Hiring Extravaganza”, if the banner they hung outside their store was true. I took an application and the required supplemental information, which was an ethics test that I thought was designed to figure out if you’d steal money from TJ Maxx or try to give your friends free clothes. I filled out this ethics test WITH MY PARENTS, who are, in my estimation, very ethical people.

When I went back to TJ Maxx with my application, the lady’s eyes lit up, and she said, “Oh, let me just take it back and score it!” and she ran off and I settled back, thinking I’d have a job and some extra cash by the end of the day. Then she came back and she didn’t look me in the eye and she said she couldn’t hire me because I had failed the ethics test. I am not ethical enough to work at TJ Maxx. Have you ever shopped at a TJ Maxx? I don’t want to be rude, but the people there are not smart. You’re telling me that they’re more ethical than me?

Just for fun, here is the one question I really remember from that TJ Maxx test.

True or False: It’s okay if all my friends get in trouble, as long as I don’t.

What does that question even mean? The way I wanted to answer it is, I don’t want the kind of friends who are getting in trouble. But is the question saying that I did something bad too, but avoided punishment? Or that as long as I don’t do these awful things that my friends did, I’m okay?

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 9

It was ten-year-old Jake’s responsibility to get the family’s animals into the barn whenever it started to rain. One day, a real downpour started, and Jake ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, ushering horses into the stables, and the cows and pigs into their pens, and the chickens to the hen house. Little Jake was soaked through and through, and all he had left was to get the dogs into the house. “Run boys,” he called, and his four dogs and his goat who thought he was a dog set off a trot beside him. The goat couldn’t run as fast as the dogs, though, and he was struck by lightning and died. Jake got in trouble since one of the animals died on his watch.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 8

Marvin the Goat thought he was a dog, and followed the other dogs in the family everywhere. One day, the dogs jumped into the family swimming pool to play with the kids, so Marvin the Goat jumped too. Marvin the Goat couldn’t swim, and he wasn’t wearing flotation devices like the children, so he drowned.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 7

Little Lorraine had a pet goat named Frank, who thought he was a dog. One thing that Frank was particularly good at was learning tricks. He could roll over, say hello, bleat on command, and fetch. Little Lorraine even taught Frank how to jump rope, and she showed him off at school talent shows and county fairs. People would come for miles to see Frank the Jump-Roping Goat. He won blue ribbons and trophies and made Little Lorraine oh-so-happy.

One summer, Lorraine went off to jump rope camp, to learn more techniques and tricks to teach to Frank, and also because her mother was worried that she spent too much time with her pet goat.

Without Lorraine, the goat became bored. He hopped around the yard, but it was boring to do so without Lorraine holding a jump rope for him. He tried to do some training exercises so that Lorraine would not be disappointed in his physique when she returned, but he was really lacking in motivation.

Then one day, Frank the Goat who Thought He Was a Dog, (a.k.a. Frank the Jump-Roping Goat) spied a jump rope in the sky. “It’s higher than I’m used to,” he must have thought (assuming that goats can form logical thoughts), “but it’s the only chance I have to really practice.”

Frank positioned himself under that giant jump rope, took a deep breath, and jumped. And that is how Frank the Goat became tangled in the clothes line and died.

The next year, Lorraine went to cheerleading camp.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 6

Little Francie had a goat who thought he was a dog. He was out digging a hole for a bone one day, but unfortunately, Little Francie's lawn was contaminated with mercury due to a nearby smelter. The goat died from mercury poisoning, but his death served a greater purpose, for that was how the town found out about the mercury. They sued the state. That goat saved the whole town. They erected a statue of that goat in the square and changed the name of their town to Goatsville.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 5

Little Janey had a pet goat named Salamander, who thought he was a dog. One day, Little Janey fell down a well. Salamander alerted Little Janey's parents about this whole well incident. Salamander was hailed as a hero. The local newspaper took a picture of Salamander and he was on the front page, with a headline that read, "Local Goat: Next Lassie?"

To celebrate Little Janey's return, her parents held a party. Unfortunately, they invited someone who really wanted to eat some goat meat. That person slaughtered Salamander and started roasting him before anyone even knew what had happened.

Little Janey's neighbors sat and waited for the goat to finish roasting. "Do you know what's ironic?" one neighbor said to another. "Lassie never actually saved Timmy from the well. Timmy never fell down any wells during the run of the iconic television show. Only Lassie and Uncle Petrie actually fell down into a well."

"Is that truly irony?" the other neighbor replied. Then the two neighbors had a discussion on the nature of irony while enjoying some goat kabobs.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 4

Little Jimmy had a pet goat, who thought he was a dog. One day the goat was eating some dog food. Little did that goat know that the dog food had been poisioned by an evil witch. The goat died. Having no protection from his loyal goat, Little Jimmy was kidnapped by the evil witch and cooked into a pie.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 3

Little Mikey had a pet goat, who acted like a dog. One day, the goat was acting dog-like and chasing a car. The driver of the car, who was fed up with animals chasing her car as she tried to make her way home, ran over the goat. Absolutely flattened that goat. It was not an accident. The driver of the car, who we'll call Polly, heard through the grapevine that Little Mikey was upset, but she did not care. "That's what you get for having pets," she thought. "If I had to do it again, I would do the same thing." Polly lived happily ever after.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 2

Author's Note: See previous Author's Note.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 2
Emmylou and Willie had a pet goat named Charlie, who thought he was a dog. He was allowed in the house, where he was most helpful at dinner. Both Emmylou and Willie were picky eaters and liked to feed the food they did not want to an animal under the dinner table. Dogs had also proved to be too picky, but Charlie, proving true the stereotype that a goat will eat anything, was very accommodating with everything that was passed to him.

Emmylou and Willie also had an aunt named Hilda, who kind of resembled Charlie the Goat, although not in personality. Where Charlie the goat was loving, affectionate, and generally accepting of anything the children might do, their Aunt Hilda was a condescending, judgmental, and often very cruel aunt to the young children.

For example, Aunt Hilda had a habit of telling the children to try not to look so ugly, right before a photograph was snapped. Emmylou and Willie were in a lot of photographs where, if the picture had been taken two seconds earlier, they would have looked as happy and content as two children who own a goat usually look. Instead, those photographs depicted children who were about to commence wailing.

Hilda did not live nearby, so she did not visit very often, but when she did, the kids tried hard to be on their best behavior, so as not to provoke her. She complained about everything, but the children didn’t mind, so long as she wasn’t complaining about them. Hilda was on a rant about how awful the hors d’oeuvres were when she saw Charlie the Goat. Charlie, who was supposed to be locked in Emmylou’s room, had smelled the deviled eggs and was now headed straight for them.

“What is that thing?” Hilda shrieked.

“It’s our pet, Charlie,” Emmylou said.

“Well, why is he in the house?” Hilda shrieked (it should be noted that most things that Hilda said sounded like a shriek).

“Well, he thinks he is a dog, so we let him come in like a dog,” said little Willie.

“That is absolutely disgusting. Goats aren’t clean,” Hilda shrieked.

“No, he’s very…”

But Emmylou did not get to finish telling her aunt that Charlie the Goat was a clean animal, for Hilda had started shrieking that she would not stay in the house another minute if that goat was in the house. She would not come back if those children even had a goat, because they were probably crawling with goat germs as well.

Emmylou and Willie were overjoyed. Hilda would not be able to come back to the house as long as Charlie was there. Charlie was their protector, their talisman. What a great day!

But the children’s father was motioning for Willie to come near. “Willie, we’re going to have to put that goat down.”

“But why?” Willie whispered. “He’s not doing anything wrong, and I don’t care if Aunt Hilda never comes back.”

“Aunt Hilda is family,” his father said. “While I agree that it’s an unfair trade, we have to respect our family’s wishes. Go get my shotgun and kill your goat.”

Emmylou wept and threw her arms around Charlie the Goat’s neck. “Please don’t kill my goat,” she cried over and over again, even as her father dragged the goat outside into a field. “Do it, son,” he whispered to Willie. Willie took aim, and through the tears in his eyes, he shot that goat who thought he was a dog.

All through dinner, Emmylou and Willie sobbed, but they did learn a valuable lesson that day. Families are crap. It’s better to have a pet goat and never have to answer to your family. So, when Emmylou and Willie grew up, neither married nor had children, and they both lived together with a goat. Since their parents had died long before, and because Hilda did not care for them, there was no one to bury Emmylou and Willie when they died. And to this day, no one knows where they are buried.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 1

Author's Note: During the last month, I have seen so many different kinds of animals around my house and in this area in general. Just ten minutes ago, coming back from lunch, I saw a groundhog. But the most exciting animal is one that lives right next door. It is a goat that my neighbors keep as a pet. "It's a goat that thinks he's a dog," my mother said. "That sounds like a children's book," I said. Here is the first draft of my attempt to write said children's book. I'm taking applications for illustrators.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 1
Mabel and Johnny couldn’t quite remember when they got Marty as a pet, for they were slow children with poor retention skills. But ever since they could remember (it had to be at least a week, perhaps a month), they had enjoyed Marty’s company. He would come up and rub against their backs while they played boards games, hoping to be petted. He would jump around and run in circles and make the children laugh so hard they cried. He curled up in their laps and watched wrestling shows with them. Mabel would tie her dolls to his back and pretend that he was a horse, while Johnny would pretend that Marty was the finest hunting dog in the county while he shot at tin cans with his BB gun in the back yard.

In school, Mabel drew a picture of Marty when the class was asked to paint their best friends. “Oh my, no,” said the art teacher, who was well aware how far Mabel lagged behind the other children in her class. “I’m sorry, Mabel, but dogs don’t have horns.”

“Oh, I know,” said Mabel, right for once. “This is my pet, Marty the goat. He thinks he is a dog.”

Mabel and Johnny had three other dogs, Rowdy, Roddy, and Piper, and since the day that he had arrived, Marty had run around with the dogs like he was one of them. He wore a collar like them and he ate the same food as them. He chased cars, sticks, and balls.

Because Mabel and Johnny’s parents were, like their children, rather slow, they never had Rowdy, Roddy, or Piper vaccinated for rabies. One day, a rabid raccoon bit the dogs. And by dogs, I mean the real dogs, not the goat who thought he was a dog. He, luckily, was not bitten. However, once the dogs entered the second stage of rabies, otherwise known as the excitative stage, they mauled Marty the goat to death.

Mabel and Johnny cried and cried for their lost pets. Then, as children do, especially these children, they forgot all about them. To this day, no one knows where they are buried.

Book #28: Dreams from My Father

The book: Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama

What is this book about: This book, which was written in 1995, is a memoir of where Barack Obama came from, and the struggles he faced in trying to determine exactly where it is he did come from. He had a pretty big identity crisis because he did not know who his father was, or where he came from, and the absence of his father left him with confusion about how to be a black man in this day and age. The book traces his childhood in Hawaii and Indonesia, his college years in LA and New York, his early work as a community organizer in Chicago, and finally, his trip to Kenya to see the family he had never met.

Why did I read this book: Well, to be perfectly honest, I thought that if Barack didn’t get the nomination in a few months, then there might not be much reason to read this book anymore, so I wanted to read it before it became less relevant. That thought may be true of The Audacity of Hope, but not so of this book, because it’s a really interesting look at race, and you could read it without caring that the person exploring these issue of race and class and identity was running for president or not. Well, it probably helps a little that he is.

What did I think of this book: It’s really well-written. The language really struck me. Sometimes I had a problem with the way one anecdote with a minor character was supposed to show how Barack understood something for the first time or how he changed his world view, but everyone does that in memoirs, I guess. Overall, it’s a really striking portrait of a guy that doesn’t know who he is or where he belongs (something that most people can identify with on some level) made all the more intense by the questions about race and class that he is confronting.

What was my favorite part of this book: On page 203 Barack used the word “legerdemain” and it’s a word you don’t see much in books (well, I don’t), and I really enjoyed that moment. There were several really well-written and poetic passages of the book that would probably constitute my favorite part, but it would be hard to find the best one now, so I have to use one that’s from near the end:
“They both disturbed and comforted me, those trees that looked as if they might uproot themselves and simply walk away, were it not for the knowledge that on this earth one place is not so different from another—the knowledge that one moment carries within it all that’s gone on before” (437).

What did I learn from this book: I learned a lot about where Barack Obama came from, but I was left struck by how much I didn’t know. How did this guy who was really only beginning to come out of a fog of self-doubt and just beginning to understand the concepts of hope and faith decide that he had what it takes to become president? To be fair, that wasn’t the question of this book; this book was written in 1995 and the political stuff came later. So next I will read The Audacity of Hope and let you know how it all turns out.

What grade do I give this book: B

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