Book Review: four letter words by Truong Tran

Four Letter Words by Truong Tran

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
Yowza! Poetry with a vengeance...makes people who don't "like" poetry cry and that's a good thing. Fabulous backstory to this book tho' not a prerequisite for beatific results. Recommended dosage: twice a week or whenever mediocrity overwhelms. Up dosage to daily as November elections approach.


View all my reviews.

Blahhgg #7: Initial iotas on The 'ville...

So we've been here 3.5 weeks approximately and I must admit it: I like it. I like it much more than many of the relo's I've been through (including Santa Clara). Some first impressions for ya':

The 'ville is a PARTY town but dissimilar from SF Party Town. I remember when I first got to SF I thought "okay so they can't deal with the scat of the homeless on the streets but they can sure throw parties." And especially parties around sex/gender/nudity: Pride, Folsom Street Fair (my very first SF civic event - yowza!), Bay to Breakers (with their perennial running nudists - ick), Exotic Erotic Ball, etc.

The 'ville is all about music/cafe society; all kinds of music and drinks - pre-gig drinks, drinks during gigs, post-gig drinks. Not just alkihall either - this is a big wine town. All the good restaurants have good to great wine lists (and can we tawk about the low prices? Oy!). There are at least two restaurants with 100 wines by the glass! They all have good tequila choices too and, of course, the full selection of brown likker: scotches, whiskies and buhrbun.

The other demonstration of how SERIOUS they are about their cafe society is the hours: last call is 2:45 am. You can get nice dinner in town up until that hour as well. Many places open at 11am and close at 2 or 3am. That's a lifestyle commitment!

In addition to music, something I love about Nashville is the weather. Face it - I was raised in NJ where the humidity bred mosquitoes big enough to go cowtipping at night. I know humidity and mugginess and fireflies and thunderstorms. And those of you who know me well and have stood still long enough have heard my diatribes about how much I miss all that (not the mosquitoes though). So even though in August I'll probably be whining about it like I never left it, right now, I'm enjoying thawing out from the perennial coolness of SF. The spring here has been lovely with very little humiditiy - so I've felt welcomed.

But the thing that has reminded more than anything else of how South we really have moved - more than the blue laws, the Christian scripture quotations at the end of yoga classes, and the lovely soft accents, is that fact that the sun rises about an hour earlier here! That I was not prepared for - 5:30am is broad daylight!

The first two weeks I found it quite disorienting - my bedroom (which has no curtains just yet) flooded with sunlight before 6am even. And it prompted the following scribble:

Daylight drinking makes the cowgirl come out. She hip checks her hipster and sucks
down homey brew. Daylight drinking in moist sun and tender air with you, my newest
darling. I taste your big vowels of cotton. I want to sing all the time. Your wood working ways
turn me shapley spindle despite my brinded hair and netted skin.
Is 50 too old for a new lover?

Blahhgg #6 – I'm now a Villien!

Ah yes - arising in Fort Smith - where else is the Visitor's and Convention Bureau housed in a formerly notorious whorehouse! How true to Fort Smith's recent history as border town to the American west. But everything's tamed now. The only raucousness emanating from bars when yuppie vultures from the big consulting firms (8, 6, 3?) alight to try to cosset some personal merger activity from the local wildlife. We were hit on (!) but having been in their shoes a scant 10 years ago we identified their stale humor immediately!

So we hit the road but not before dipping into the local Starbucks which is replete with a yuoung hipster in skinny pants, aviators and WHITE driving loafers. (I guess Vogue is nationally distributed).

Driving along we pass a road sign for Clarksville (as in "The Last Train to..."; penned by Neil Diamond for the fabulous Monkees). The moisture of the place is slowly seeping in - everything feels a little plumper and more vital.

A scene I missed photographing was a row of wind turbine blades laid out ready for installation. These are enormous! When they're mounted on the poles and turning they just don't look as big. Here's a shot cribbed from the Internet to give a sense of how big BIG really is:
Very cool. We also saw lots of trucks carting them around (also huge!). At least someone somewhere is harnessing a renewable energy source that also doesn't seem to require coal or some other such odious fuel for creation.

We pass Toad Suck Park, AR (exit 129) and pretty soon after that we were crossing the BIG river - they Mighty M - right into Memphis and Tennessee - my new home state! Woo hoo!!!

To inaugurate me into proper TN culture we stopped at a fish shack in Memphis called SoulFish. All I can say is Super Duper Yum!!!! MM got the catfish basket which came with the most perfectly fried (see below) catfish I've ever had (4 big pieces) and 3 HUGE hush puppies that were the most delectable things: crisp light hot with whole corn and bits of jalapeno inside. I've never had a hush puppy that good (and most are really awful) but these things were like "more please sir" to the max! I had a salad because I spied coconut cake. They gave me a wedge that was like 1/4 of an entire cake - OMG. Unbelievable. Memphis is 4 hours from The 'ville but we're going back soon babee!

We moseyed past high points like the Tennessee River Fresh Water Pearl Musem and Bucknort but I could hear my honey calling and wasn't stopping for nanythin' else. We rolled into The 'ville at 4:50pm and ta daaa! The end of the Road Trip!

The Moral of the Story: Size matters. America is big country and it's just ridiculous (and hence certain) for any of us to make generalizations. But if it's details and particulars that distinguish us, it is the process of living where our shared DNA resides.

[Unsolicited Political Rant: And oh how I do wish the mass media would get that. These recent calls for Obama to demonstrate how he 's a "regular guy" the way W. did - where people said "well I'd like to sit down and have a beer with the guy". Well Chick-O-Ree - just 'cause the moron can drink beer and crack a joke doesn't mean he can effectivley lead Amereica! Guess we know that now (lowest approval rating of ANY incumbent ever). So hello Geo. Stephanopoulos, Geo. Will, David Brooks, etc., etc. Get off that horse already! Obama has a family, eats breakfast and does something at some point to relax.]

Up next: Val in The Ville for real!

Blahhgg #5: Day Four – of Drop (Dead Delish) Biscuits and Memorials de la Muertes

Okay: I've been in Nashville for 3 1/2 weeks now and I'm still blahgging about the road trip getting there. So I'm going to try to push through the last two days so I can move to the end of the space time continuum that everybody else is operating in (is that good?).

Even though it's situated in a dreaded red state territory I was really looking forward to the National Memorial in Oklahoma City - built on the site of the Alfred J. Murrah building which was bombed in 1995 - and the adjacent Museum which occupies the former Journal Record building. The effort to create this memorial/museum has been much written about because it was such unique effort - many different constituencies (survivors, victims families, service personnel, governmental agencies, etc.) were all tapped for input in a open but structured process. And someone evidently had final say because (unlike the 911 site in NYC) they finished the thing.

So we arrive in OKay Citay around noon on Thursday, May 2nd (where else can you just drive up to the front of a national memorial midday and find ample street parking with 2 hour meters). The first thing we saw was a long chain link fence with the personal decorations that people leave at these places (there's now like 60,000 items there). You can't see the memorial at this point because there's a big concrete barrier fence behind the chain link. You just proceed through this opening and this is what unfolds in front of you. What you don't realize is that there is a matching portal to the one you see at the end of the pool (you just walked through it). These two gates represent the minute before the bombing (9:01) and the minute after (9:03). It's very monumental and impressive and beautiful and (on the day we were there) quiet.








Then to your immediate right is the Field of Empty Chairs.


This is my favorite part of the memorial - 168 chairs, one for each person who died (including 19 children who perished in the Murrah building day care center). The chairs are bronze with translucent glass bases (where the names are etched) and so if you look quickly the bronze parts look like they're floating. There are several set apart from the bulk of them and they commemorate people who were outside the building when they died. The very first chair you reach is for Rebecca Needham Anderson, a nurse who died from injuries she sustained trying to rescue others.

The 9:03 gate (that you're facing when you enter the memorial) is also one of several spots where you can interact directly with the memorial (although you're not prohibited from touching anything or walking anywhere on the grounds). Here's someone trying to make his mark on the gate.
I have tons more pictures that I'll be posting later but I want to get to what's in the museum: they've done a fantastic job of presenting information and relics from the entire history of the building as well as during and after the blast. Organized into "chapters" the topics range from "Chapter 1 - Background on Terrorism" through the explosion itself (you can sit in on a hearing of the Oklahoma Water Resources Board which was being audio recorded and thus hear the blast itself which is really unbelievable) all the way through the investigation and prosecution of the perpetrators. They seemed to have saved tons of rubble and debris from the event which is now very interestingly displayed. The huge bronze seal of the building is displayed - the thing is enormous and the damage it bears demonstrates the power of the blast.

The most fascinating thing for me was the recorded interview of some of the survivors; which I think were done several years after the bombing. Ernestine Clark, a librarian at the Journal Record building, gave a long and detailed interview of her experience. She was in shock but did not realize it and spent many hours looking for coworkers and seeking help for those injured. Her intelligent, unemotional and very self-observed remarks of the chaos of the event are some of the most darkly humorous yet chilling things I've ever heard:

* Outside her own building, trying to flag down help: "...the typical kind of logic a person in shock uses, I thought, they [ambulance] can't come here because this is a one-way street."

* On hearing that there was a triage unit set up: "...it seemed[triage] a very dramatic word for anything having to do with Oklahoma City."

* On reflecting on her experience: "But I can tell you a librarian...no matter what,... is not prepared for a bombing or running from the threat of certain death."

We left Oklahoma City reluctantly but had to press on. Here we come to the "lesson" of the road trip: expectations can be horribly wrong so unless you have factual data - keep an open mind (and tummy). Case in point: Fort Smith Arkansas. I never, ever thought I'd ever be in Ft. Smith, so I approached the prospect of overnighting there with real trepidation. What a surprise! This is a jewel of a town: historic, preserved, artsy yet still authentic to Bubba culture (Clinton's home state). I did not take any pictures on the perfect evening we rolled into town but we did find our way to a great restaurant: Doe's Eat Place!
http://www.doeseatplace.com/our_history.htm
Made famous in "Primary Colors" this is a fantastic (if supersized) steak place set in a lovely old stone building. MM and I were reposing on its back porch, a soft breeze (replacing the screedy wind of the west); robins chirping in one ear, good ol' boys jammin' in the other (playing a wide and well executed variety of tunes). We ordered our steak and what did they drop on the table first (which they don't even discuss on their website) but these "drop" biscuits with butter and honey. Dessert first! Yeah!

What they don't tell you about drop biscuits is that they've been baked and then dropped into a deep fat fryer - OMG! These are some of the best things you'll ever put in your mouth! They make regular donuts look like the sickly sweet wannabes that they are and of course they bring like 6 of 'em for two people.

Have I told you I'm starting to like the South?

All for now (so much for finishing). As Ernest says: the sun also rises.

Blahg #4: It's a beautiful day on the road today...

When we woke up in Needles it was a classic blue hot desert day with a strong wind to cool off the 75+ degree temperature on our skins. Today in Albikirky it's cold! 50's overcast with a persistent, chill wind. And I feel like my sinuses are full of dirt! What a strange place New Mexico is: alternately blocks, miles, moments of dog-eared sad and wealthy new age. The drive to our next sleeping spot (Amarillo) is a short 500 miles so we bee line into Santa Fe for a nice lunch and some shmieing around. We check out the Plaza and head into the main Albuquerque art museum, surrounded by these brass plates honoring the founding fathers.

After an hour of eye-popping window shopping at Glorianna's, the BEST bead/loose gem shop I've ever been in, we have a restorative lunch at SantaCafe (10 years plus and still delish) and then head out on some two laner to reconnect with 40E.

Here's what I love about NM: It's beautiful. It's SCALE is beautiful. It's untiring wind pushing the puffy cotton clouds is beautiful. It's miles of blue skies are beautiful. It's weather - which you can always see coming - is beautiful. Even the construction in Santa Fe is beautiful:

So we light out of Santa Fe and, lulled by the expiring miles, I keep missing all these great road signs: Endee, Rodeopia, Wildorado (home of The Original Pie Place). And the best (all on one sign): Cuervo, Tucumcari, Amarillo.

We cross into Texas and it almost immediately gets lusher, more populated and agricultural. That's when it hits me: NM is so poor partly because there doesn't seem to be much agriculture (at least in the I40 corridor we just traversed - but I've not hear that Alamogordo and other parts south are big ag either - unless you count UFOs and mushroom clouds as USDA approved products).

Amarillo was the one place I decided to get cute re: our accommodations on this trip and booked the only 5 star hotel (with respect to amenities) about 20 miles south of Amarillo in a fetchingly named place called Palo Duro Canyon. Actually the hotel was not in the canyon per se but in Palo Duro the little town on the other side of the highway from the canyon. (<- See over there?) Anyway we check in - it's very nice, new, clean, etc. - and learn that UT has a campus here in Palo Duro - college towns usually mean good, cheap food so we're psyched. We head over to Fred's Wrong Way Diner for "the best burgers ever" and are greeted by our young waitron with a "can I get y'all ladies a Coke, milk, or water?" Alarm bells!!! "Uh, 'scuse me miss. Is this county dry?", I ask. She hides her overt judgement of our incredible lameness and smiles: "Welcome tot eh 1920's". And of course - it's just the county where Palo Duro is - Amarillo is not dry! So much for cuteness... We experienced another "just how big this country is" moment in Palo Duro: when we first pulled up to the side entrance of our hotel (close to our room) there was also a big black pick-up truck parked there. A man was walking a beautiful black lab outside the truck. The dog was still a big puppy. We got into our room, freshened up and then as we were exiting to eat our burgers and drink our non-alcohol we saw they were still out there and the man seemed to be trying to tie the dog up to the light pole illuminating that part of the parking area. We had heard the dog barking while we were in our room too. Over dinner we worried that the man might try to leave the dog out all night. We thought this incredibly stupid and cruel. When we returned they were still out there and now there was a woman in the truck. My friend Margaret was getting very concerned now for the dog and I was also worried about barking. We discussed various strategies and she decided to head out there and as she did she ran right into the man. They chatted briefly - she had obviously come out there to check on him/the dog - and she was relieved in that it seemed he would be bringing the dog into their room for the night. Just the idea of leaving an animal like that outside all night - a strange place where it could easily be harmed or stolen - really made me think about how different and yet similar we all are: we're the same in the challenges, problems and desires we all have. We seem to differ mostly in our methods of addressing these situations and desires. Or maybe not. Maybe we are all different in what we want, what we need. Particulars are more important I think than many people think - especially when it comes to those with decision making authority for others. And 300 million people spread out over 3,794,066 square miles is a lot of particulars.

Blahg #3; Day Too Roadtrip

The next day we cross AZ thru this amazing wind – big warnings on the roadside and HUGE clouds of pink dust pittering the car ALL DAY – at one point we were in a literal fog of pink dust which we could see from a distance and just had to drive through.

This photo ->
doesn’t really do it justice. It was a true sand storm.

We finally stopped in Winslow. The Winslow of “well I was standing on the corner of Winslow Arizona…” It was blowinlikehell!

When we finally pulled into Albuquerque that night, before we went to dinner we washed our faces: it looked like thick pink pancake make-up on our white washcloths!

Blahg #2: Roadtrip – Day Won…

[Note: The author indulges in drive-by photography –take your Dramamine!]

South on I-5 south through some vasty agribusiness. I detest what’s going on with the food supply (the majority of our food coming from less than 10 companies – can anyone say bio-diversity?). Yet when you’re driving through Central Valley its sheer scale of the landscape and man’s engagement with it impresses. The one human artifact in that Valley that I just LOVE is the California Aqueduct built to the tune of “Food Grows Where Water Flows.” I couldn’t get a good shot of it myself so here’s a link with some history and GREAT pix: www.spillwaynews.net/Water/CalifWater3.html

As you cruise along I-5 at whatever speed limit multiple your vehicle allows (the hottie can go pretty fast) when you come up over a rise in the land it’s Ka-Bang! You see this huge blue strip of water and think “is that REAL?” This was not the age of the micro-chip.

When we got down to I-40 and turned east we went through Tehachapi and saw these mega wind farms (another human artifact I love).

and all these cute baby Joshua trees right by the road.

By now we were sick from the crappy fast food Mex we’d chowed but the sounds of Cold Blood from twenty years ago and more current Boz Scaggs soothe us a little . And wouldn’t ya’ know, we quickly passed a signpost for the Twenty Mule Team Road right outside of Boron, where where they mine Borax, of early TV western sponsorship fame and now a "green" cleaning agent. Being originally from NJ I had to snap the exit:

The bug smears show that we’ve been on the road for awhile now. We’re just trying to make it to Needles for the night. As we come into the border area I realize we’re basically paralleling Route 66 – the first interstate to cross the US along a "scenic" route (opened 1926). I've left California!

Blahg #:1 29 April 2008

7:21 am PDT

Trying not to wake Mike, I get up and do a little yoga in our hotel room. I guess I'm trying to preserve what I can of my old, ersatz routine. The one part I thought I’d not miss : rising at 6:15 every Tuesday and Thursday for morning yoga. But the last couple of days have been so frantic that I do miss it.

I leave today at 10:30 am on a 2,200 mile road trip to Nashville, my new home. My friend Margaret is riding with me and I must say that I was excited about the move until now. Now it is sinking in, now that all the goodbyes are said and the boxes have been closed and shipped. Now I wake with gulping thoughts like: I should have packed my little book light or did I remember to pack extra razors? And they feel like semaphores for other, more fundamental concerns.

I’ve been a coastal person most of my life: New Jersey, Maryland, California with a ten year hiatus in-between in the inter-mountain west. But it was this most recent spell in California – land of my husband and perfect contradictions and a pervasive sense of “whatever, man” that I feel like I’ve hit my stride. I never thought I’d ever live in the Central Time Zone. I don’t have that kind of equilibrium. I like boundaries, markers. The edges of things – they seem important, where one can witness great changes and upheavals. The great plains seem well plaintive, sighing and moaning, unchanging and boundless. I hate constant wind. And even though Nashville is in what might be described as piedmont; rolls of earth undulating away from the Appalachians, how the hell will I ever know where I am without an ocean or a mountain to point me?

Maybe I'll learn to use a compass...

Note: the photo collage above is actually the cover of a wonderful travel journal that fellow poet Kathy O'Brien gave me at the last meeting of the GOMT Poetry Collective (dinner at Cha - Ya). I love it because it captures much of the American Road experience in general and for me specifically since we went south on I-5 and took 40 East for almost 2,000 miles. Kathy - thanks a jillion for this little gem. Posts from my scribblings held within it are forthcoming.

I love you and miss you all.
Val