Have You Read Politics Daily Today?

Friends of FTITN,

I'm having a great time covering education for Politics Daily. Please take a look at it, especially my Q & A with DC School Chancellor Michelle Rhee and my most recent post on Goldie Hawn and leave a comment!

Book Club Members Need to Read the Fine Print

Fact: I have never had a conversation with anyone about their book club where they've said, "I've just finished reading a fabulous book, and I can't wait to talk about it!"

Nope. It's always some variation on: "I have my book club meeting tomorrow night and I still have 1004 more pages to read of NAME OF BOOK GOES HERE. And I can't believe this is the book they chose."

Don't get me wrong. I love books so much that when an acquaintance recently said she wanted to line the entrance of her row house with bookshelves, I thought, I wonder if my hallway is wide enough to do that, too? And, Can I rearrange my radiator to make space? We used to have book wallpaper in our old house, but can you imagine how welcoming it would be to be flanked by real books as you walked into your house? It would be a lot better than being pawed at by a dog standing on her hind legs, which is what happens where I live. I've long dreamed of building bookshelves in my dining room so that I'd be surrounded by good friends on all sides. It would be like repairing to the library after dinner for brandy, cigars, and conversation, only you wouldn't have to leave the table. 

Having said all of that, I feel like the bad mother--you know, the woman who wrote an essay in the New York Times about loving her husband (who turns out to be the novelist Michael Chabon) more than her kids. But here's the thing: I don't ever want to be in a book club.

For me, the joy of books comes from the freedom to choose, both what--and when-- to read. Sure it's fun to talk about books, such as recently, when it seemed like everyone I know happened to be reading The Middle Place. And I was touched when my friend Lisel brought me her copy of The Girl I Left Behind because she had read it and thought I would like it, too. (She was right.) But that's different than having to slog through The Moviegoer because someone in your book club is trying to assauge her guilt over never having read it in college. Or willing yourself to stay awake as you inch your way along in some tome about geopolitics when you'd really rather be curled up with a good mystery. The only period in my life that I didn't love reading was in grades 6 to 12, because there was never a time--summers included--that I was without an assignment. Next came the agony of having to analyze the book in class. What is a book club except English Lit. without the tests? On the rare occasions when I leave Ralph and the kids at home and get together with friends, possibly the last thing I want to discuss is the plot of a 19th century novel. 

The reason this is on my mind is that the other day, my sister's friend Pat came up with a brilliant idea: a magazine club. Members would read an agreed-upon piece like the Gisele cover story in Vanity Fair or Orangette's piece on salmon in Bon Appetit, or, hell, the Organizer Doctor's solutions for arranging what's under the sink in Red Book, sift through it, and still leave plenty of time for free-ranging conversation. 

Think about it. After a lively evening with friends, you could go home, climb into bed, and read. The book of your choice. Without the guilt.

Anyone want to join with me to start Magazines Only?

Life at 24,000 Feet - No Place to Run

One of my sisters is a flight attendant, but for a variety of reasons, that is not a job I could ever hold down. One is that I am a spiller of drinks. Another is that I am a bad flier. I'm not neurotic about it, which is to say I've never declined a trip because I don't like to fly. Let's just say I have a reputation. 

Years ago, when I was scheduled to accompany my elderly cousin on a month-long boondoggle to South Africa, the plane we were supposed to take was grounded overnight to have its engine replaced. Maybe it's because I didn't have anything else to do but worry during my unplanned stay in Chantilly, Va., near Dulles Airport--my cousin Abram, 92, had retired to his room, and I hadn't even packed dental floss in my purse to keep me busy. Still, under the best of circumstances it wouldn't sit well with me to fly for 17 hours with an impaired engine and so I calmly phoned the airline and asked why, with its puny fleet of two jets, I should trust them to fix it. Some way into our trip, my cousin told me that our guide had taken him aside and asked why the airline had a record of my being a "nervous traveler." Word had gotten out, I guess. I felt somewhat justified when, mid-trip, South African Airways went bankrupt and we had to fly another carrier home.

Even before that, when I was on a transatlantic flight in my early twenties to visit my then boyfriend in London, the ride was so rough that I grabbed the hand of the man sitting next to me and gripped it for the next four hours. I don't think I ever learned the name of the person who belonged to that hand, but I know that no amount of pleading on his part would have gotten me to release it. I remember his eyes on me when we were waiting for our luggage, but we never spoke. At least that encounter was anonymous.

Despite my history, I was trying to play it cool the other night when the plane from Atlanta, where I'd gone to visit my parents, started to bump around--a lot. I wouldn't be able to save them if thing went down, I thought, looking at Sam and Julia in their pajamas in the seats next to me. Sam was asleep, and Julia seemed oblivious to the roller coaster. Then Julia reached out and took my hand. And by the look she gave me, which made her momentarily more 30 than 3, I could tell it was for me. After all, she had announced just that day that she wants to be a smoke jumper and then a princess when she grows up. In that same conversation, as if to justify her life's ambitions, she told me that she is brave and smart.

I know people say you can learn a lot from kids, but I didn't learn a thing that night at 24,000 feet. I was just glad to have my little girl's pudgy palm in mine. And to know her name.

Announcing My New Gig on Politics Daily

Dear Friends of FTITN,

Many of you have called to check in about my absence from the blog, and I'm so grateful for your concern and loyalty. Everyone in our life is as good as they can be, which, of course, means varying things depending on who we're talking about. 

Partly my radio silence is due to the fact that I've been getting ready to cover education as a columnist for AOL's new venture Politics Daily. Here's how our editor in chief, Melinda Hennenberger, describes the site, which launched two days ago:

"Welcome to Politics.Daily.com, a political news magazine for the general reader updated every day, throughout the day. Instead of leading off with extravagant claims about how we're the best thing since Caller ID, what I really want to promise is that we'll work hard to distinguish ourselves the old-fashioned way, with heavily reported, well-written stories. We'll offer a straight mix of news and opinion -- and a mix of views in our reported commentary. And I can't tell you how grateful we all are that AOL (yes, Alec Baldwin, deal with it!) is willing to take this gamble, and fund a small team of old pros committed to traditional journalistic values..."

People have asked me how we're different from Politico or Slate, and the answer is, I don't know. But I can tell you from a purely personal standpoint, as the mom of one, and soon, two, kids in D.C. public school, I'm thrilled to be covering a core issue that feels to me like it's now or never in terms of making our country's public schools work. And that's what I plan to say to Michelle Rhee, our controversial chancellor, when I go interview her for PD tomorrow. 

And I'm ecstatic (and a more than a little rusty) to be reporting again. So check us out. And while you're at it, please read (AND COMMENT) on my first story about how schools are gearing up to deal with swine flu. I'll also be blogging on Woman Up on the PD site. 

It feels so great to be back on FTITN! 

Recession: Carrot and Stick

Not that it's really affected me, because I've scarfed down more Girl Scout cookies than a whole troop should be allowed to eat in one sitting. But...is it me, or are the Girl Scouts of America skimping on the size of their peanut-butter-creme Do-si-dos these days? 

If so, they're not the only ones who have used the recession as an excuse for portion control. It wasn't that long ago that it seemed everywhere I went, people behind counters were trying to upsell me on more popcorn, bigger burgers, and larger fountain drinks. I'm sure that's still going on, but recently I've noticed a few restaurants and gourmet take-out shops around town where they're charging the same but quietly dishing up less--and also piling on the lettuce in place of other, more expensive ingredients. For all the warnings we've heard about obesity, maybe the real cure for the nation's collective weight is a down economy.

I'm going to start a running list on Friends Talking in the Night of good things to come out of the economic turmoil we're in, so please send in your thoughts. I only wish you could also drop in for a cookie! (I just ate another one when I went to the kitchen to check on the correct spelling of Do-si-dos.)

Economics 101: Learning in Life What I Didn't Learn in College

The only reason I did well in Econ in college is that I took the courses with my friend, Bill, who had a mind for all the charts and graphs about guns and butter that I lacked, and he was generous enough to pull me along. 

But even as I've tried to deny the daily damage being inflicted on my retirement account--I've been tossing the unopened statements in the trash for the past several months--the economy has risen to become THE conversation. It pops up in headlines in the daily papers and on my phone. It comes up on walks and over dinner with friends and even during Ralph's and my pillow-talk time at night. We who have Greatest Generation envy are finally to be tested, it seems, by the Great Recession. 

Since history never repeats itself precisely, however, I find myself obsessing about what form the paradigm shifts our lives will take. About the only change I've made so far is to stop acquiring and start whittling: I've made a deal with myself that for every day I don't go to Starbucks, I transfer $5 toward my credit card balance (Last week when I was in bed with the flu and only craved tea, I "made" a whopping $35!) 

This nonetheless represents a big change for me. I have lived my entire adult life by an approach that Calvin Trillin calls "Alice's Law of Compensatory Cash Flow." That's the principal by which if you think you absolutely must buy a fabulous new flat screen TV that cost $5,000 but then remember that if you do there will be no money to pay the mortgage, feed the kids, or train the dog and so you forego it, you have in effect "saved" $5,000 that you can then spend on something else. 

But surely this is only the first of many adjustments, small and large. If few can afford to send their kids to college in the manner to which we upper-middle-class aspirers have planned, will the Harvards and Yales somehow become devalued, replaced by windshield stickers for Georgia State? Will we be blown back a generation, so that we raise our kids the way our parents grew up--living with multi-generations? taking in boarders? We will we start mending the clothes we buy from Target? Will we never be able to retire?

All of this is still in the realm of fantasy right now, and I hope that's where it stays. But in my imagination, what I picture from the turmoil we're in is a more communal life, with greater reliance on and interdependence among friends, family, and neighbors, less waste, and more of a focus on what we really care about because choices have to be made. 

I'd love to hear how the economy has affected you, and where you think we're headed?

Public School? A Private Matter (But It Shouldn't Automatically Be Discounted, Either)

As anyone who's ever read Friends Talking in the Night knows, I struggle mightily with parental guilt--that just-kicked-in-the-gut feeling that comes on unbidden each time you think you might be failing your kids, however temporarily or slightly. I'm agonizing at this particular moment over the fact that Julia is in daycare on what for many kids in Washington is a snow day, while I'm at home blogging and doing research for a speech--never mind that she was happy to be there, kicking about in her boots like the little boy in Ezra Jack Keats's The Snowy Day. So I'm totally sympathetic with a piece in yesterday's New York Times "SundayStyles" about the hard calculus many parents are currently facing over whether or not to keep their kids in private-school education in this grizzly economy. 

Still, as the mother of a child in public school, I took umbrage at the writer's utter failure to question--even in a single throw-away line--the possibility that public-school education has any positives. If we hadn't made different decisions with the money we earn would Sam be in a private school? Maybe. But each morning when I hug him goodbye and give him a good luck pat on his backpack, I also feel that he's in a pretty perfect situation and that our family--and, in some tiny way, our neighborhood--benefits from being a part of the school down the hill. That sense is reinforced at pickup each afternoon by the engaged boy who hurls himself into my arms, talking without a breath about Harriet Tubman or Grandma Moses or his science teacher's voyage on an ice-cutter in Alaska.

I learned all I need to know about feeling that your child may be in the wrong place in the few weeks of kindergarten last year when Sam wailed every day, apparently over the stepped-up demands of academia: I couldn't have lived like that for long without making some changes in one direction or another. It's one thing to be unhappy yourself and altogether another to see your child in distress. It's primal. But I'm also reminded of a lesson I learned as a newlywed back in my twenties that seems so obvious now as to never have needed learning: you can't get everything you need out of one relationship--or one school.

I'm not preaching that public school is for everyone. Obviously, we don't know what, if anything, we're missing. And since we won't ever have a control group, only life will tell.