"I was 17 and Worried about My Hair ... I Had an Inoperable Brain Tumor." Guest Blog Post by Anonymous

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MRI image of a brain tumor. Source

At seventeen the greatest of my worries should have been finding a prom date, choosing the right car, going to concerts and meeting new people and living life to the fullest. I worried about my hair instead. At seventeen, my doctor discovered an inoperable tumor in my brainstem, but I didn't care. My only concern was, "Is my hair going to fall out?" I could handle being ill because it was something I was very familiar with. However, the thought of my hair leaving my scalp was terrifying.

The nightmares began soon after I received this horrible news. I would wake up in the middle of the night with my oversized Lady Gaga t-shirt clinging to my body and reach frantically for my dark strands and pray that they were still connected to my head. They always were, but I always had trouble falling back sleep with two fistfuls of thick black curls. Eventually, the tumor took its course and I still couldn't shake away the fears. Several therapists and a few bottles of Xanax couldn't stop the panic-attack-filled dreams.

So, I cut it off.

The stylist was in disbelief. "Are you crazy?" she asked. "You want me to just cut it off?" I closed my eyes as she tied it all behind my neck in a thick elastic and began sawing off the precious locks. When it was all over and my hair was in a giant plastic bag labeled "Locks of Love," my nightmares left. I confronted that fear by severing it off and donating it to a girl who wasn't as lucky as I was. 

On the first day of the semester, I ask students to provide me with a writing sample.

These writing samples are written by hand, with pen and paper, not computers, and without any preparation. Students usually spend about fifteen minutes on these writing samples.

Reading these writing samples is one of the most moving things I do all semester. Students always surprise me. When I read these writing samples, so full of hope, vulnerability, self-examination and good intentions, I always think, if everyone knew what was going on in the invisible mind and heart of their neighbor, we would all be less cynical, and more gentle.

I've been asking for prayer here for my sister Antoinette. You can read those posts here and here.

I mentioned to the former student who wrote the above first-day writing sample that my sister has received a scary medical diagnosis.

My former student immediately wrote back to remind me of her first day writing sample, in which she had talked about a brain tumor. I save these writing samples and I went back and found it and reread it.

It's an amazing piece of writing. She wrote this spontaneously, on the first day of class, with a black ballpoint pen on a piece of theme paper.

There's so much in this brief essay. The love of beauty that sometimes surpasses the love of biological existence. The confrontation with fear. The defiant, generous sacrifice of her prized hair as a gift to kids who lost their hair to health problems like cancer.

My student wrote to me, "I know I'm a stranger to your sister, but if she wants someone to talk to about the situation that can relate to it, then I'd love to help in any way I can."

I am more touched by my former student's courage and generosity than I can say.

The charity to which my student donated her hair is "Locks of Love." Locks of Love provides hairpieces to children who have lost their hair to health problems.

The Locks of Love website is here.

"42" Jackie Robinson's Story: Beautiful, Inspirational, Must-See

"42" about Jackie Robinson, the first African American major league baseball player, is a beautiful, inspirational, must-see movie. "42" has been accused of being corny. For heaven's sake, it IS corny. Jackie Robinson was a true hero, as was Branch Rickey, the white man who decided to break the color line in baseball. This is an old-fashioned, all-American, even Christian story that makes you tear up and get goosebumps. "42" is about good v evil. The bad guys in this movie are repellant scum. The good guys are true heroes of historic proportions. I wish more people would see this film.

It's the late 1940s. America has defeated Nazism. It's time for the Civil Rights movement to defeat white supremacy in the US. Baseball executive Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford) selects Jackie Robinson (Chadwick Boseman) to be the first African American player on a major league team. This choice puts Robinson's life at risk.

Pitchers attempt to hit Robinson in the head with their balls. Base-runners drive their spiked heels into his legs. Philadelphia Phillies' Ben Chapman hectors Robinson when he is at bat. Chapman repeats ugly, disgusting insults. Robinson is powerless to silence Chapman. Hotel owners won't allow any members of the same team as Robinson to rent rooms. Robinson's own teammates shun him and sign a petition protesting his inclusion. Robinson must wait until his teammates are done in the shower room before he can shower. While his teammates are given lockers, he is given only a peg with a hanger. Toughs arrive at his house and threaten him so badly he must be driven out of town. Letter writers threaten to harm his wife and child.

Robinson's heroism in facing all this is the inspiration. Branch Rickey is also a hero. He was a devout Christian. He chides an interlocutor, "Love they neighbor as thyself. That is repeated eight times in the Bible, more than any other commandment."

"42" isn't an especially deep film. It does not probe deeply into any of its characters. It presents the history of baseball's integration in a fairly straightforward, easy to follow way. Production values are high. The 1940s era is captured in vintage clothes, cars, ballpark ads and architecture.

Chadwick Boseman is handsome, heroic, and stoic as Jackie Robinson. Nicole Beharie is incredibly beautiful as his wife Rachel. Harrison Ford is a bit hammy as Branch Rickey, but he's Harrison Ford, so he can get away with it.

I loved this movie and I wish everyone would see it. We need more such "corny" films.

"The Great Gatsby" 2013 Baz Luhrmann Forces The Great Gatsby through a Kaleidoscope -- And It Works!

Baz Luhrmann's "The Great Gatsby" is an eye-popping, over-the-top, hyperkinetic, loud, heavy-handed circus, opera, and kitchen sink drama. Luhrmann takes F. Scott Fitzgerald's quiet, brief, cerebral novel and forces it through a kaleidoscope, crashing and scattering images in a peacock-colored, geometric Busby Berkeley dance routine. The amazing thing is, it works. The heart and soul of Fitzgerald's novel are there onscreen, and honored. Underneath the literal glitter – that sticks to characters' faces and shoulders in multicolored patterns – this is a genuinely serious film about big themes. It entertained me, it moved me, and I cared.

I am very sensitive to color and there were scenes in Luhrmann's "Gatsby" when I was overwhelmed by chromatic sensation. There is a hotel room orgy. The women wear vivid, finger-in-your-eye obvious eye shadow that contrasts with their vivid, obtrusive colored jewelry that clashes with their crazily colored dresses which throb in contrast with the hideous, red, patterned wallpaper which I am sure is the wallpaper in the hell that bad interior decorators go to. In another scene, purple, blue, and gold metallic streamers cascade downward on a dancer in a buttercup-yellow, ostrich feather tutu.

And it all moves so fast. That ostrich feather tutu is onscreen for seconds. The camera just keeps moving on to the next visual sensation. The costumes, the cars, the special effects, Bollywood film icon Amitabh Bachchan as Jewish gangster, Meyer Wolfsheim!!!: this movie's fabulosity budget must have been a zillion dollars.

Luhrmann lays everything on with a trowel. Long after the audience has realized that certain characters are users whose wealth protects them from the consequences of their evil deeds, Luhrmann tells the audience that, not just by speaking those words from Fitzgerald's book, but by writing the words out on the screen. Luhrmann shows, he tells, he beats you over the head. Only twice, though, did I feel he'd gone too far. Once when an obviously fake shooting star crossed the screen not once but I think three times, and when a character, struck by a car, is shown hurtling through space not once but twice. Once really was enough in both cases – one shooting star, one hurtling corpse.

There is a scene in this movie that took my breath away. After all that jazz, and color and movement, the movie just … stops. It stops in a hotel room. If you've seen the film, you know exactly which scene I'm talking about. There are no special effects in this scene, no fireworks, no presto changeo. It's just a group of people sitting around talking. And suddenly you feel as if you are on Broadway watching a Tony-winning production of Eugene O'Neill. That scene make my guts churn; it broke my heart. Is Luhrmann showing off here? Saying, See, I could hook you in with fabulousness, and now I will move you with nothing more magical than words and real feelings.

The cast is perfect. Leonardo DiCaprio totally owns Jay Gatsby. DiCaprio manages to be human amidst all the glitz. He conveys Gatsby's power and his vulnerability. His voice is perfect; he sounds like someone trying to sound like a Kennedy. Joel Edgerton inhabits Tom Buchanan's brutality and snobbery. Isla Fisher is solid trash. Carey Mulligan brings Daisy to charming, pathetic, despicable life. Tobey Maguire is appropriately observant, lost, tempted, and jaded as Nick. Gorgeous Elizabeth Debicki channels Kirsten Scott Thomas. Richard Carter conveys quiet menace as a character whose job it is to announce, "Chicago is calling." If you can make that line scary, you are very talented.

The soundtrack mixes genuine jazz age music with rap-influenced music, and it works, too.

Praying for a Miracle for my Sister Part II

Me and my sister

Scruffy, my sister's dog. Please pray for Scruffy's family. 

I asked for prayers for my sister a few days ago in this blog post.

There's been news since that blog post and the news is not good.

So I'm praying even harder for a miracle.

I am also praying for God's grace for my sister, her family, and me.

***

I sent the message, below, to my sister's children.

Your mother, your Uncle Greg (Marlee's father) and I used to sleep in the same bed, and bathe in the same bathtub. Our family was very eco-friendly before it became popular. We also wore the same clothes.

Antoinette and I were in constant contact.

It was a big shock for me when she went off to nursing school. Suddenly I was all alone in the house. I used to be the youngest of six kids. Suddenly, I was an only child. Except for our dogs, Tramp, Artie, and Benjie.

Here's the thing, though. I would think something -- a thought would just flit through my mind -- or I would see a movie I liked, or I would hear a song on the radio -- and the next time I saw Antoinette, or the next time she wrote to me in her elegant, long, loopy handwriting, or the next time she phoned -- it would be as if we were Siamese twins, sharing the same brain.

At the same time that I was thinking X, she was thinking X. At the same time that I was singing along to song Y, she was singing along to song Y. At the same time that I was laughing at a joke, or swooning over a movie star, or remembering some event we shared, she would be thinking the exact same thing!!! Even though we were miles apart!

this happened so often, with such exactitude, and such intensity, that it was ... it was as if we were connected by some invisible, highly sophisticated, electronic wiring.

As time went on, this faded. I'll never forget it, though.

Why tell you all this ... you will never not be in touch with your mom. No matter what happens. I promise you. I know.

"That Just Took My Breath Away in Ways I Can’t yet Articulate" The Anchoress reviews "Save Send Delete"

"Save Send Delete" "is a splendid and insightful and fun novel … that is lyrically written. For Catholic readers in search of good Catholic fiction that reflects something of what it means to be passionately Catholic in a post-Christian, secularist and politically correct era, the book is almost cathartic."

I am very grateful to Elizabeth Scalia, aka the Anchoress, for her positive review of "Save Send Delete." 

Letter from a Student: "A Bumpy Ride"

Lady Writing a Letter by Johannes Vermeer. Source: Wikipedia 

Bette Davis as Margo Channing in "All About Eve."
Her famous line, "Fasten your seat belts. It's going to be a bumpy night."
Painting by Trevor Heath. Source

I distinctly remember my first day of Mythology and Folklore. As an English major with a writing concentration, this was my first time walking into the intimidating Science Hall East with its tall grey walls, automatic doors, and clean-cut, contemporary design. It was nothing like the rustic Raubinger Hall and mildew-scented Hunziker wing that I was so accustomed to. The only common denominator between these buildings was a plethora of smokers huddled under the awning in order to keep dry. As I ventured into room 5041, I noticed the previous professor had left a lecture on the going influenza epidemic that was sweeping the nation.

When Doctor Danusha Goska walked in, the entire class was in for a surprise. The wispy thin, white marking on the green and black chalkboards were revealed to be hers. She set her enormous backpack and curiously strange walking stick in a corner of the room and without a pause continued into a discussion of how it was the students' responsibility not to become ill: how to wash our hands, cover our mouths when coughing and keeping a distance from those who are or may seem infected. As my eyes crawled along the faces of my peers, Doctor Goska's voice was still murmuring in the background and I knew we were all thinking the same thing. "This course is going to be a bumpy ride."

However, four months into the semester, I have no reservations in saying that our lives have completely changed because of this class. I become excited when seeing my classmate William because he is a fellow English major, Chiyomi, in order to discuss the difference in our cultures, allow Christopher to vent about his girlfriend and future deployment, or Nikki and her precious new niece. It is because of Doctor Goska that we have gained confidence in ourselves and trust in each other.

After introducing us to absolutely repulsive creation myths, fairy tales ranging from Cinderella to talking snakes in India and the issues occurring in modern times, she has filled us with not only a vast amount of knowledge, but the ability to dissect materials presented and fully understand them. Due to her eccentrically charged personality, we were given an unforgettable experience. She spent some time regarding proper research methods, and together we can locate the appropriate sources for my project and distinguish them from false sources. I have learned so much in her class I was completely unaware of. My communication, debate, and analytical skills have increased. I am delighted to recommend this class to all students. Together, Dr. Goska and I can create something magnificent that we will both be proud of.

***

Letter from a student to my boss, quoted with permission.

What delights me most about this letter is my student's great skill at writing. What pleases me second is that she reports that I taught her how to do research and how to assess material for its truth value. She wrote to report that these skills with help her with her own research.

I am so happy that I left this student with these feelings. That’s what I want to do most as a teacher. Teach my students not WHAT to think, but HOW to think.

Yay. Yay. :-)

Finally, I'm really pleased that my student felt that our class was a place where she could connect with fellow students. The professor isn't all that important. What is important, what will serve students for the rest of their lives, are their human connections, and their people skills. I encourage students to connect, not only with me, but with each other. 

What It's Like to Be Swallowed by a Hippopotamus

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"There was a terrible, sulphurous smell, like rotten eggs, and a tremendous pressure against my chest," Paul Templer said, recalling the moment he realized he had been swallowed by a hippopotamus.

At the time, Templer was 27, a river guide taking groups of tourists down the Zambezi river near Victoria Falls, along the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe...(Full story here.)