I've Got Breeders Cup Fever!

Tomorrow is Breeders Cup Day! For Thoroughbred racing fans it's like the Super Bowl and World Series rolled into one. Or maybe it's more like the Olympics since it features champions from all over the world. (?) Anyway, it's big. Besides Derby Day it's my favorite sporting day of the year.

I'm not the handicapper of the family (that would be my dad) I'm more the racing historian but here are my picks:

Juvenile Fillies - Folklore
Juvenile - First Samurai
Filly & Mare Turf - Film Maker / Wonder Again
Mile - Singletary
Sprint - Lost in the Fog
Distaff - Ashado/Society Selection
Turf - Shakespeare/Better Talk Now
Classic - St. Liam (My sentimental favorite is Sir Shackleton since I admire his namesake so.
I'm also a Rock Hard Ten fan but he has trouble winning outside of California)

Check it out at 1pm on NBC- go baby go!

Thank You Sister Rosa

Everything as been Rosa Parks here since her death. A Detroit resident since the 50s, she was a local hero as well as a national icon. I bought a series of Successories-like posters at the National Civil Rights Musuem a few years ago on a visit to Memphis-the one featuring her has the famous bus photo with the word COURAGE underneath. Even cooler, when my parents were in town once we went to the Henry Ford Musuem where the actual Cleveland Avenue bus is-you can get on and sit in the famous seat and everything. American history up close and personal. The bus is covered with black crepe now.

I've read many books on the subject, some of which debunk the archetypal story of a tired maid who refused to give up her seat. Parks was an activist with the local NAACP chapter so there has always been speculation that she was a plant-a tipping point needed to galvanize the troops for a long bus strike seige. For some, that lessens the story but not for me. Just like the Bible doesn't have to be completely factually true to have meaning for me, neither does this. In my book it would actually take more courage to do what she did if it was preplanned-then you'd have to think about being brave. It was a dangerous, gutsy thing to do regardless.

So in words of the Neville Brothers song (why hasn't that been used in any montages yet?)
"thank you Sister Rosa".


For another perspective on Rosa Parks check out the new blog clarioncalled.blogspot.com.

Letter to My Neighbor

To the Resident of 1A,

Yes, I hear you. I can always hear you unless you're gone or sitting in your car talking on the phone (that really creeps me out-can't you talk inside like a normal person?) The thump, thump, thump of the bass line coming through the floor. The loud guests coming and going and coming and going at all hours. The stoop standing that blows smoke into our apartment. (I especially liked the time that you were having an arguement with your girlfriend out there-the part about how you "almost love her" was especially sweet. ) The list could go on and on but the facts are simple. You don't want to go up againest me. That's not a threat, it's a statement of fact. I'm not afraid to complain-I've been living in apartments longer than you've been alive and I know how to deal with a bad apple neighbor. You have R&B and Hip-hop but I have Opera. And worse yet, Country. Yeah, you don't want to mess with me.

One Good Reason I Love Marla

I had a great friendship moment last week that I'm still thinking about. My folks were in town and my friend Marla and I had dinner with them. We were strolling down Main Street, full of food and (in my case at least) too much wine. We stopped to browse the remainder tables at Afterwards, the discount bookstore. They had a stack of George Pelecanos' Soul Circus so I flipped it over to say hey to my author crush (too much wine remember).

"Hello George."

"Hey, he's really good looking," Marla said in surprise.

"Of course," I sputtered in indignation, "would I have a crush on a crusty.."

She stopped me with a look. A look that said not only have you, you probably will again. Yeah, she had my number alright. Still, it's a pleasure to have someone you love call you on your shit.

The Joy of Thrifting

The new Salvation Army store opens here tomorrow and I'm very excited. New pickings just a mile away. (Insert me rubbing my hands together in anticipation here.) For a college town Ann Arbor thifting is just okay so I'm hoping the Army can lift things up a bit.

I have always maintained that anybody can take $1000 to Marshall Field's or Barneys and come out with something cool but it takes a real shopper to walk into a thrift store with $20 and do the same. Yes, it takes patience-sometimes pickings are slim-but if you stick with it you'll be rewarded with the J. Crew sweater coat (never worn, tags still on) for $3. Or the $10 vintage leather jacket.

Thrifting's gone 21st century too with the advent of shopgoodwill.com and other sites-you can shop at home in your pjs. Yes, the whole thrifting world awaits and I, for one, can't wait.

"House" vs. "The Wire"

I think every pop culture fan has their favorite award show travesty (Mariesa Tomei anyone?). One of mine happened at this year's Emmy Awards. In the Writing for a Drama Series category an episode of "House" ("Three Patients") beat out a episode of "The Wire" ("Middle Ground").

Yeah, it's crazy.

Everytime anyone writes anything about "The Wire" they write that it's a novel for television. To read it in every article does get tiring but it's an apt description. You have to watch it from the beginning and pay close attention cause they're not stopping if you can't keep up. It's complex, entertaining and genuinely moving television.

If "House", on the other hand, were a novel it would be one produced by the Strathmeyer Syndicate (the folks who brought us Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys)- it's that formulaic. Every episode, with one exception, follows a rigid pattern. Dr House is called upon to diagnose a mystery illness with the help of his three young impossibly good looking minions. There are two or three wrong turns, House says a few incrediably callous things that cause everyone to gasp (they really do) but then there is one moment where his kindness is revealed so we know he's really a softie at heart. The one exception to this template is our Emmy winner. It cleverly breaks the pattern, tells us how House became a cripple and even features a cameo by Carmen Electra in golf clothes. Now that is tough to beat.

I'm not saying "House" is all bad-Hugh Laurie is fantastic and carries off the role with his usual aplomb-it's just not award worthy writing that's all.

My Baby's Gone South

My boyfriend left this morning to work in a Red Cross shelter in Baton Rouge. One of the founding rules of this blog was that I couldn't write about him too directly so I'll simply say I couldn't be prouder.

I'll keep the home fires burning and I'll care for the menagerie but mostly I'll be missing you and counting the days until you come home again.

Dear Jonathan Safron Foer

I was working at my desk today assembling one of the care packages I'm famous for when I reached for the rubbber bands. The tiny plastic case is almost empty. It took me a second to remember why.

I had just finished your second book. The critics said it was too precious-I could see that but it worked for me. When I saw you were coming for a signing I was excited and made plans to attend. But if it really didn't go well, did it? You remember.

There were actually 3 events going on that night. Jayson, the events guy, made several announcements about them, considerately I thought, in case there were people who planned to attend more than one. I guess that didn't make you feel special though, did it? When you went up to the podium to begin the event I was very impressed with your VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR vibe. In 14 years of bookselling I've met lots of authors who've written lots more than 2 books who didn't have that vibe.

Then you spilled water on your crotch. On a taller man it would have hit his belly but you're probably used to being short by now. After that you kind of looked like a boy who forgot the Hebrew at his bar mitzvah. You tried to make a joke but it didn't quite come off, did it? It was one of those angry jokes people make when they really want to yell and stamp their feet.

So you began to read. But someone forgot to tell the cafe person to hold that smoothie order until after you were done. You didn't appreciate the blender noise much, did you? You're a New Yorker, I thought you be used to noise. My e-buddy, Craig, tells me you have a millon dollar brownstone in Brooklyn. Guess it's a lot quieter there.

After the reading came the Q&A. I thought you'd like all the young co-eds asking you questions about your method and comparing you favorably to Jonathan Lethem and Mark Haddon. But it turns out you don't like Jonathan Lethem and you don't appreciate your protaganist being compared to the one in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. You really turned those well intentioned comments around. You're really good at that.

At last came the autographing. I got in line in the back. When I reached you you signed my book and I gave you my gift-a hand decorated vellum envelope full of cunning Japanese rubber bands shaped like animals. I remember the conversation well:

(me) "After reading your book I thought these would not go unappreciated."
(you, flatly) "No, they won't go unappreciated."
(me, taken aback but continuing on) "Thank you for creating Max, I really enjoyed meeting him. If I were going to have a kid, I'd want him to be like Max."
(you) "You don't get to pick."

Insert stunned silence here. Even the author escort was surprised and she drove Chuck Paliniuak around..

I collected my book and left your vicinity. Your I'M AN IMPORTANT AUTHOR WHO IS NOT GETTING THE RESPECT DUE HIM FROM THIS CRAPPY EVENT vibe was giving me a headache.

Now as I look at my nearly empty box all I can think is


Send them back you pompous jerk!


signed ,
Sam in Ann Arbor

What I Would Have Said

I had an appointment at the Storycorps booth on Saturday, October1st. For those who don't know, Storycorps is an oral history project sponsored by NPR. They have mobile booths going cross country to collect people's stories to preserve them. Maybe because my mom died when I was young (moms being the traditional keeper of the family history) or because I'm a huge fan of stories or perhaps just cause I like to talk, I wanted very much to participate. I settled on doing it with my best friend, Carrie, who I've known for 20 years now. The Ann Arbor dates filled too quickly so we were aiming for Murray, KY. But, life is messy and plans get unraveled and we were unable to go. So, this what I would have said:

My friend, Carrie is, hands down, one the coolest people I know. In my close friends I am always attracted to those "never met a stranger" types (probably because I'm so not that way) and she definately qualifies. She also has that scientist/artist/mom vibe going on which is tremendously appealing-her right and left brain are switched way on. Carrie is also one of those people who can always see a thing or a person's potential, which speaks to her deep down optimistic spirit and good eye. When you go thrifting with her (as she says "it is the way of our people") she'll inevitably find that cool, hip thing you overlooked that you'll be kicking yourself for missing all the way home. But then she'll offer to share custody of it (we had a Petey t-shirt we shared for years-you know, the Little Rascals dog) and then you're just hap-hap-happy she's your friend.

Whether she's on a boat in the middle of her beloved ocean or home with her daughter, Riley (cool in her own 4 year old way) Carrie is and will always be there for me. Through marriage, divorce and all the sidetrips and detours along the way we've been together. We may not get to see each other as much as we would like but we are true blue nevertheless.

It's not the world's most dramatic or original story but it's mine and I'm sorry I didn't get to tell it. I hope whoever took our spot had one as full of love and friendship to tell.

My Old Kentucky Home

I've been thinking about home a lot lately thanks to the movies. I saw "Junebug" a few weeks ago which was pretty terrific. (And yes, Amy Adams was as great as the reviews said. She's so in character you feel like she must be exactly like that character to play it so well.) It's about a lot of things, one of which is about living away and how things are when you go home. You belong because it's home and your people but you don't really fit in anymore because your life, your day to day life, is elsewhere. As someone who has lived away from home for 11 years I can relate.

The new Cameron Crowe movie also has me thinking of home. Crowe has a romantic streak that runs deep and wide so I have a huge soft spot for him anyway but when I found out the new movie was "Elizabethtown" as in Elizabethtown, Kentucky I was thrilled. When I saw the trailer where Kirsten Dunst is teaching Orlando Bloom how to say Louisville properly i.e. Luavull (it's not french, it's native) I must admit I squealed. Yep, that was me, sorry about that. Orlando Bloom hanging out at Leatherhead on Bardstown Road? My Bardstown Road? Yeah, you know I'll be seeing that on the first day. My old Kentucky home, six hours hours away, will be a lot closer, for two hours at least.

King of the Wind

As part of my preperation for the Breeders Cup (aka the World Thoroughbred Championships which will be held this year at Belmont Park on October 29th) I just listened to the audio version of Marguerite Henry's Newbery Award Winner King of the Wind. It tells the story of the Godolphin Arabian, one of the three founding sires of the Thoroughbred breed. Every racehorse today from Derby winner to claimer can trace their lineage back to at least one of these stallions.

The Godolphin Arabian is the most famous of these because of King of the Wind and because his story is the most vague and therefore the most conducive to creative license. He was born in Yemen in the stables of the Bey of Tunis in 1724. A bloodthirsty sultan looking to improve his reputuation overseas, the Bey gave the stallion to Louis XV, the boy king of France. At this point history gets lost-legend says the stallion was rejected by the king and reduced to Black Beauty like hard times-pulling a water cart through the streets of Paris. A more likely explanation is that he was sold or given to the Duke of Lorraine. History picks up again when the horse was acquired by Edward Coke, who then bequethed his stock to his great friend the Earl of Godolphin. The Earl, seeking to improve the English breed, bred the African import to his finest mares. The results were Lath, Cade and Regulus all racing champions at Newmarket.

From these scant facts Henry wove a great adventure story of the fictional stableboy Agba and his journeys as he followed the sultan's order to "care for the horse in his charge as long as the horse shall live." From the lavish stables of the sultan to the Newgate Jail to the famous Newmarket Racecourse young readers have read along with Sham (as the horse is called in the book) and Agba for sixty plus years in their riches to rags to riches story. Listening as an adult I am again impressed with her beautiful yet spare writing. Judging by the long list of books consulted she obviously did her research and it shows in her vivid descriptions. I am also impressed by the vocabulary-there is no dumbing down. If young readers didn't know what a minaret they would just have to look that up. I appreciated that as a reader then and now.