Memoirs that Make Me Wonder on The Why of XY

Earlier this on this blog, I noted that I enjoyed reading Michelle Obama’s memoir this summer.

Well, last night I finished “Godland” by Lyz Lenz. Immediately before that, I read “Born a Crime” by Trevor Noah.

Reading them back to back was not really by design, but it seems a fortunate coincidence. I liked both books—both authors have interesting stories to tell, and are worth your time if you enjoy memoirs. And I see some parallels between these works by a African late-night comedy show host and an opinion columnist at my local newspaper.

One uniting theme is that, for an old white man (today is by 61st birthday), both books have interesting insights into the lives of women. That may be obvious in Lenz’s book and less obvious in Noah’s. But Trevor Noah’s memoir is very much a rumination on his relationship with the single woman who brought him onto this globe—his mom, who was shot in the head by his stepfather.

Noah’s book first—it's filled with poignant anecdotes and is also quite funny. That may seem strange for a book that concludes with the aforementioned violence, but (spoiler alert), his mother survived with minor injuries, the bullet passing through her head without entering her brain or destroying another life-required structure.

The book is very accessible—the fact that Trevor grew up in another culture on another continent somehow makes the stories of his misspent youth resonate more. Weren’t we all young and awkward and struggling to understand our moms? But the book left me angry at the universe, in a way, partly because the man who shot Noah’s mother suffered very little in return.

The patriarchy strikes again.

Speaking of anger, there is a fair amount of it in “Godland,” but mostly there is a yearning for completeness and a quest for it. Lenz wrote about the time when her marriage broke down and she was left adrift, seeking a new spiritual home as she rejected the male dominated churches she had been at home in.

The end of “Godland” is pretty powerful, and sneaked up on a me a bit, just because I had not looked ahead and didn’t know the number of footnote pages there would be. I was reading last night, and thought that this chapter, about her experience in a new church, not only seems pretty powerful, but is bringing the themes of this book together.

And I turned the page, and there was half a page of text facing footnotes. Well, cool? Except I wasn’t quite ready for it to be over, and I wish Lenz had written more. Well, that's a measure of a book you like, I suppose, that you yearn for the time you engrossed in it when it ends. At least with her new job at The Gazette, I'll be getting fairly frequent Lenz fixes anyway.

Although both Lenz and Noah have very different religious attitudes and different faith backgrounds, God is a potent character in both books, too. Across time and continents, Jesus can provide some pretty universal themes, which I guess is not really a surprise, but was interestingly on display in these books.

One contrast between these two books is that Lenz does a lot more reporting, while Noah is sticking with his personal experiences. Yet, Noah’s book, which roams over his childhood, high school years and early career, felt “broader” to me. It stretches over more time in his life, while Lenz wrote a tighter personal narrative on a narrower snapshot of her life.

Still, my own personal journey was, in some small measure, enriched by these two writers. And as an old man, I don’t feel that I understand women—but then again, they don’t understand me. In fact, I often don’t understand most men, either—in this life, gender is significant, but not the full story of our joint and severed humanity which makes all of us complicated individuals.

And I consider myself a feminist. I want all humans to be unfettered by biology in their personal journeys—life will throw enough barriers in our ways, we don’t need assumptions or ideas about masculinity or femininity to add to our burdens.

Yet, as demonstrated in both books, women have challenges that are weighted differently. Being heard. Being accepted as leaders. Being paid. Being acknowledged as full-fledged adults. And also, not being shot in the head by angry significant others—those are all human struggles, but they fall unfairly on the XX chromosome-bearing members of my species compared to those of us who express XY traits.

I don’t know why. The reasons are complicated.

And although answers may be elusive, the injustice is simple to see. And both of these books help with that.

Seeking Escape in An Action Movie

Are you looking for an escape from the heartbreaking news of the day?

Well, temporary escape, I hope. Tuning out is the American way of coping with bad news, and it’s a truly bad idea. A democratic republic depends on a populace that, at the very least, pays some attention to news of the day.

So, to briefly, only briefly, escape from the gratuitously violent news of the day, I followed a classic strategy. I went to a theater with my wife, bought a huge tub of popcorn (and a refill), and watched an action movie filled with acrobatic tricks, narrow escapes, and chase and fight scenes.

It even had Keanu Reeves. It was “Toy Story 4.”




When we were on the way to the theater, my wife noted that a friend had said that she cried at every Toy Story movie, and we laughed, a bit. The Toy Story franchise is indeed filled with heart-touching narratives, but hardly draws tears.

And then, near the end, your macho manly movie correspondent choked up. Tears filled my eyes. That lost little girl, that doll, that reunion with her parents—ahhhh.

Ok, Pixar, you did it.

Woody and Forky talking over the meaning of life in "Toy Story 4." Image from Disney.com.

 But wait, there’s more. A few minutes later the familiar cast members gather to say farewell and Godspeed to one of their own—and, sure, the waterworks are ready to start again.

Disney Image. Duke!

And Keanu Reeves! I’m not the biggest KR fan, but he is perfect as a Canadian clueless action doll, pining for the boy who rejected him.

“Toy Story 4” is not a perfect movie. I found the middle action scenes in the antique shop to take up a bit too much time. Toy Story excels in character development and dialogue, which the action sequences support, and the action sometimes is too central in this latest installment.

So maybe number four is not the very best Toy Story movie. But how many movie franchises manage to stay fresh and heartfelt into the fourth movie? And we were a bit skeptical of the idea of “Toy Story 4,” because the third movie felt so final. It would be like a fourth “Lord of the Rings” movie.

We were wrong.

Pixar, your writers are just so darn clever. I do wish Jessie had a more screen time, and wanted more of the interplay with the old cast—interactions between T Rex and Mr. Potato Head, for instance. Still, “Toy Story 4” is totally worth it. Who wouldn’t love the Mr.-Bill-like Forky?

You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, it will move you. And it will provide you some much needed emotional satisfaction in troubled times.

Sound and Fury, Signifying Something

Some observers don’t like political debates because we’re not electing a chief debater, we are electing a president.

Bah, humbug, I say. I found two nights with 10 candidates a bit exhausting, yet still worthwhile. The anti-debate argument is the same that was used in the 19th century when it was considered unseemly for men (back then it was always men) to campaign at all—the thinking being then that a head of state was not a campaigner, and it somehow tarnished the “royalty” of a president to have him do something gauche like ask for votes.

I do not think my vote for president should be solely, or mainly, based on debate performance—but, on the other hand, I think these spectacles are useful because they do give other voters and me a chance to do quick side-by-side comparisons and to “meet” many candidates. Before debates, campaigns were often contests of political advertising, so I appreciate that these events counterbalance that a bit.

Besides, while it’s true a president does not have to debate anyone directly, they do have to publicly articulate ideas and lead by what they say. They do have to make a case and counter ideas and persons that they oppose. And when they fail in that, well, consider the legitimate distress caused by the obvious communication incompetence of the clearly worst president in our nation’s history, Donald the Tweeter Twit Trump.

Anyway, I watched both debates this week. It was a bit easier for me Tuesday night—I found the Wednesday debate a bit harder to follow, a bit wonkier and a lot less positive.

Yet, I’m glad I watched.

The CNN moderators practically displaced their shoulders patting themselves on the back after the first night. I didn’t agree. They were not horrible, but their questions were often deliberately designed to pit candidate vs. candidate, which adds to the drama of the event but doesn’t do enough to show me the substance—that is, rather than provoke a fight between these people, prod them on how their ideas work or don’t work.

A few candidates did stand out to me as doing well in the two debates this week. Here is my list of debate winners, and why I liked their performances (images from Wikimedia commons or Wikipedia):

 Sen. Elizabeth Warren: She was calm, spoke well, and didn’t go after her chief rival for the progressive wing of the party, Sen. Bernie Sanders. She seems a force to be reckoned with, and I admit I would find it delicious to see her debate Donald Trump.

Sen. Amy Klobuchar: Increasingly, my girl. If I had to caucus today, I would be in team Amy. On Tuesday night, she kept more attention on the Don, and contrasting herself with Trump, than many other candidates did. I appreciate a relatively moderate Democrat with a bit of feistiness, and I like the way she emphasized the integrity card. Amy, you’re no Donald Trump. I am not declaring that I am on team Amy today—there are months before the caucus and I’m still shopping around—just that if I had to pick today, Senator Klobuchar’s Tuesday performance would seal the deal for me.

Sen. Cory Booker: I found the Kool-Aid line confusing—I doubt anybody ever knows the flavor because that odd, artificial drink rarely has a distinct flavor. But Cory stood out in being bright, witty and, above all, happy to be there. I like a warrior who relishes the battle—politics should have some sense of joy, and it looked like Senator Booker was having some fun in the fight. He also made positive appeals. “We know in this country our fates are united.” Nice reminder, sir, and on a lackluster second debate night, you spoke well. I like the idea of a Klobuchar-Booker ticket.

Rep. Tulsi Gabbard: I had not given her much thought before, she seemed like an obscure, second tier candidate. I am not on team Tulsi yet—as I noted before I’m a bit more of an Amy fan, but the congresswoman from Hawaii seemed like a woman of substance and passion. I wish, like Corey, that she had a bit more fun, too, but Tulsi seemed to have more depth than I expected.

Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand: Her explanation of white privilege was a little odd because the context was how to appeal to white voters, not now to put them in their place, but still—damn, girl. You were totally, and startlingly, right on target.

A good debate night is not a whole campaign. I’m fond of several other candidates who did not stand out on debate night. Julián Castro is still high on my list of maybe, for example. And Gov. Steve Bullock of Montana needs to do more than point out he won a governor’s race in a Trump state—but he spoke well Tuesday night, and I like the idea of a moderate governor as a candidate.

There were many who did poorly, too. I don’t understand that attraction of Marianne Williamson, nor why some commentators thought she had a good night Tuesday. I found her to be the crazy snake oil lady who prattles on about “causes” and love—not exactly spouting nonsense, but in that neighborhood. And that voice. Who would voluntarily want to be spoken to by the stern hippie nun of the candidates? Marianne, if we need a revolution, I want Pete to lead it, please.

And then there is Pete Buttigieg. I had heard him use his zinger—the Republicans will call us socialists anyway—line before. For me, he had an off night, although he also still seems quite intelligent. I continue to list him among my maybes.

The same week we had the Democrats debate, we had continuing rants form our dumpster fire of a president. Somehow, it surprised no one that the debate moderator he singled out for criticism was the one African-American on the panel. No, Donald Trump, Don Lemon is not the dumbest person on TV. You’re still there.

Anyway, who did you like in the debates, and why?