Letters

Letters 08-31-2015

Inalienable Rights This is a response to the “No More State Theatre” in your August 24th edition. I think I will not be the only response to this pathetic and narrow-minded letter that seems rather out of place in the northern Michigan that I know. To think we will not be getting your 25 cents for the movie you refused to see, but more importantly we will be without your “two cents” on your thoughts of a marriage at the State Theatre...

Enthusiastically Democratic Since I was one of the approximately 160 people present at when Senator Debbie Stabenow spoke on August 14 in Charlevoix, I was surprised to read in a letter to Northern Express that there was a “rather muted” response to Debbie’s announcement that she has endorsed Hillary Clinton for president...

Not Hurting I surely think the State Theatre will survive not having the homophobic presence of Colleen Smith and her family attend any matinees. I think “Ms.” Smith might also want to make sure that any medical personnel, bank staff, grocery store staff, waiters and/or waitress, etc. are not homosexual before accepting any service or product from them...

Stay Home I did not know whether to laugh or cry when I read the letter of the extremely homophobic, “disgusted” writer. She now refuses to patronize the State Theatre because she evidently feels that its confines have been poisoned by the gay wedding ceremony held there...

Keep Away In response to Colleen Smith of Cadillac who refused to bring her family to the State Theatre because there was a gay wedding there: Keep your 25 cents and your family out of Traverse City...

Celebrating Moore And A Theatre I was 10 years old when I had the privilege to see my first film at the State Theatre. I will never forget that experience. The screen was almost the size of my bedroom I shared with my older sister. The bursting sounds made me believe I was part of the film...

Outdated Thinking This letter is in response to Colleen Smith. She made public her choice to no longer go to the State Theater due to the fact that “some homosexuals” got married there. I’m not outraged by her choice; we don’t need any more hateful, self-righteous bigots in our town. She can keep her 25 cents...

Mackinac Pipeline Must Be Shut Down Crude oil flowing through Enbridge’s 60-yearold pipeline beneath the Mackinac Straits and the largest collection of fresh water on the planet should be a serious concern for every resident of the USA and Canada. Enbridge has a very “accident” prone track record...

Your Rights To Colleen, who wrote about the State Theatre: Let me thank you for sharing your views; I think most of us are well in support of the first amendment, because as you know- it gives everyone the opportunity to express their opinions. I also wanted to thank Northern Express for not shutting down these types of letters right at the source but rather giving the community a platform for education...

No Role Model [Fascinating Person from last week’s issue] Jada quoted: “I want to be a role model for girls who are interested in being in the outdoors.” I enjoy being in the outdoors, but I don’t want to kill animals for trophy...

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Blessings Explores the Workings of Faith

Nancy Sundstrom - September 26th, 2002
As an avid reader, it has been a pleasure to follow the evolution of Anna Quindlen’s writing career. She’s become successively more graceful, sharp-witted, and confident with each new effort in her versatile oeuvre, and many have come to look forward to seeing what she does next.
As expected, her hot-off-the-presses “Blessings“ is now shooting to the top of the bestseller lists.
It follows the novels “Object Lessons,“ “One True Thing“ and “Black and Blue“; the nonfiction books “A Short Guide to a Happy Life,“ “Living Out Loud,“ “Thinking Out Loud,“ and “How Reading Changed My Life“; and two children’s books, “The Tree That Came to Stay“ and “Happily Ever After.“ Her New York Times column “Public & Private“ won the Pulitzer Prize in 1992, and she now appears every other week in Newsweek.
“Blessings“ is about exactly that, and much more in the form of the remarkable nature of things that become blessings in our lives, particularly when they are unexpected, perhaps even unwanted. Quindlen’s plot quickly drew “E.T.“ comparisons, because it centers around an endearing orphaned creature adopted by an unlikely caregiver who doesn’t want to love the little being, but can’t help doing so. All the while, sinister authorities lurk in the background, ready to disrupt their growing happiness.
That, however, is a highly simplistic version of the plot, which is far more textured and complicated, and, at times, even heart-wrenching. In “Blessings,“ the foundling is a newborn who has been abandoned by her parents in the garage of a vast estate owned by a cranky, wealthy, 80-year-old, widowed matriarch named Lydia Blessing. The baby is discovered in a box by Lydia’s handyman, a young ex-con named Skip Cuddy, who, for reasons even he doesn’t understand, wants to keep her.
He does so, secretly, for a few days, when Lydia becomes involved, and against her better judgement, Lydia decides to assist him in the effort. For a time, Lydia, Sip, and the baby they’ve named Faith are a family, something which redefines who each one of them are. Ultimnately, though, they will be betrayed.
What gives the book much of its power is Quindlen’s finely-tuned senses for details. As the story begins, she sets the stage for the abandonment of the baby with a mood that is so palpable and dense that one can envision the landscape as it unfolds on the page:

“In the early hours of June 24 a car pulled into a long macadam drive on Rolling Hills Road in the town of Mount Mason. The driver cut the engine, so that as the car rolled down the drive and into the oval turnaround between the back of the big white clapboard house and the garage, it made only a soft swishing sound, like the whisper of summer rain those first few moments after the dirty gray storm clouds open. There were deer in the fields that surrounded the house, cropping the rye grass with their spotted fawns at their flanks. But the fields stretched so far from the drive on either side, and the deer kept so close to the tree line, that the does did not even raise their divot heads from the ground as the car slid past, although one or two stopped chewing, and the smallest of the babies edged toward their mothers, stepping delicately sideways, en pointe on their small hooves. “I don’t feel that good,“ said the young woman in the passenger seat, her hair veiling her face. The moonlight slipping at an oblique angle through the windows and the windshield of the car picked out what there was of her to be seen: a suggestion of the whites of her eyes between the curtains of her hair, the beads of sweat on her arched upper lip, the silver chain around her neck, the chipped maroon polish on her nails—— a jigsaw puzzle of a girl, half the pieces not visible. She was turned away from the driver, turned toward the door as though she were a prisoner in the car and, at any moment, might pull the door handle and tumble out. The fingers of one hand played with her full bottom lip as she stared at the black shadows of the trees on the rough silver of the lawns, silhouettes cut from construction paper. At the edge of the drive, halfway down it, was a small sign, black on white. Blessings, it said. Blessings was one of those few places that visitors always found, on their return, even more pleasing than the pleasant memories they had of it. The house sat, big and white, low and sprawling, in a valley of overgrown fields, its terrace gardens spilling white hydrangeas, blue bee balm, and bushy patches of catnip and lavender onto a flagstone patio that ran its length. The land surrounding it was flat and rich for a long ways, to the end of the drive, and then the stony mountains rose around as though to protect it, a great God-sized berm spiky with pine trees.“

Quindlen coaxes a surprising amount of density out of seemingly simple statements, and their accompanying credibility gives this work much of its strength. She addresses complex issues like paternity, making hard, unpleasant choices, and the miracle of life in deft ways that are accessible, yet render fresh insights worth taking the time to ponder. When Skip and Lydia marvel over what a new baby looks like, for example, Quindlen writes that “The deep pleat in the fat at her elbow made her arms look muscled.“ Phrases like that are so beautifully constructed that they are worth rereading, and remembering.
There are other familiar Quindlen themes at work here, such as social contrasts, redemption, and sacrifice, but “Blessings“ takes her into decidedly new territory, which makes for a wonderful reading experience. Those who enjoy her work will anticipate that, but if you haven’t had a chance to yet read something by this fine writer, don’t let “Blessings“ slip by.

 
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