twinkly’s parenting of teens advice column-vol. 1

Perhaps, like me, you have children of the teenage persuasion. I have two, of the female variety (homo sapiens sapiens teenager femini)

I am happy to report that the following news item appeared in our local weekly paper’s POLICE REPORT yesterday:

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25

DISTURBANCES

• 6:59 p.m. — Police kept the peace at a South Amherst home where a teenage boy refused to follow parental instructions to empty the dishwasher.

♦

Well, didn’t I think that was the cat’s pajamas until I was shopping earlier today and witnessed the following scene. This screenplay is based on actual events.

INT. TJ MAXX STORE, HADLEY, MASS – WOMEN’S COATS – A SATURDAY – DAYTIME

MOTHER, approximately 47, slightly disheveled and definitely exhausted in appearance; and DAUGHTER, teenage

MOTHER stands next to daughter in front of coat rack

MOTHER

Don’t tell me what to do. Ever! I’m in charge.

twinkly’s astute, perceptive, and erudite commentary on the screenplay:

While at first it may appear that the character of MOTHER was indeed in charge, upon closer inspection one sees that if in fact she were truly in charge, both in feeling that she was and in the reality of such, she would not have needed to speak at all. The scene would have played very differently.

FIN

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teacher marks our height against the wall

First day of 9th Grade for my youngest, just past dawn tomorrow morning.

The older kid? 11th Grade.

we don’t notice any time pass 

but I do….I see the empty nest on the horizon.

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Protected: Poetry Jam III

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Music Monday–Wilco/Woody Guthrie/California Stars

Obviously, we’re not in the realm of sexiest songs any more (fear not, I have a few in my pocket for future use). However, if you count romance as sexy, then this one goes way up on the list. It’s sexy in its own way, including the lyrics that hint at domesticity (“tell me why I must keep working on”), in typical Woody fashion. Or maybe they hint at his lefty politics. I don’t care either way and then some. To me, Woody was a great poet and his Voice will always contain the pulse of something human and whole. It’s all fine with me.

I grew up listening to one half of Woody Guthrie’s album Songs to Grow On. I still have it, and sort of can’t bear to part with it. It’s an old 10″ record, the vinyl so thick and heavy you could practically chop ice with it; not like the flippy-floppy albums that came later, all bendy and pliable. Of course, it’s full of pocks and skips and scratches. Something my kids will never know about, that sound.

It was an album that apparently drove my mother crazy from overplay. But my dad got a kick out of it and he would sing the songs to me, and laugh.

When my girls were babies, I sang the same songs to them, too. Waking up, middle of the day, driving in the car, taking a bath, bedtime. Woody Guthrie was a real influence in my life. One of my heroes from way back to wee child-dom.

A CD came out of Songs to Grow On, with Arlo Guthrie and a slew of Woody’s clan singing along to the old, taped voice of Woody. But I didn’t really care for it and finally, the original recording of Songs to Grow On came out on disc. It was then that I realized that my 10″ record was only half of what Woody had recorded. I should have known since the cover stated right on the front “Vol. I.”

When my second daughter was born, I, for the second time, got into a severe depression. Mermaid Avenue came out the same year and we were all in love with California Stars, right away. You knew it was a classic, with a pedigree to boot. We can all be grateful that Tweedy (and Jay Bennett, not sure who did what) got a hold of it.

I was going to print the lyrics here, but thought the better of it because the music and the lyrics seem so well married (ah, I have come back to the 20-year anniversary after all).

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