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So, as part of this (so far, mostly failed) attempt to blog daily in July, a tale from last weekend.
I headed over to my mother's for a small July 4th party. So you know, my mother has a condo that overlooks a small lake and just beyond that, Universal Studios/Islands of Adventure on one side. From another balcony, you can see SeaWorld's occasional fireworks, and if you don't mind heading into the hallway, you can more or less see Disney's fireworks in the distance. That, combined with various small private celebrations (Florida: we can and will use gunpowder at will! YAY!) makes it a pretty decent place to watch fireworks, even if this year, the larger celebrations (the various city/town/neighborhood/resort fireworks) were split up between two nights.
Joining us were some friends and acquaintances from my mother's church – A and B (not their real initials), the acquaintances, and C and MF (their real initials; I think a few of you have actually met them), the actual friends. A was a quiet, older, uncertain man, eager to please; B, his wife, held herself carefully, tightly, and watched everyone. C and I bonded again over a mutual hatred for Alamo Rent-A-Car and Continental Airlines and Delta Airlines while A listened and nodded, and in another area my mother caught up on church news with B and MF.
Over dinner my mother, who really liked my story in Shine: An Anthology of Optimistic Science Fiction and wants me to write more things like that, instead of "that weird stuff," brought up, proudly, the subject of my writing and "all of her great reviews," and I clarified that yes, I write science fiction and – and this is important – fantasy. Fantasy. Fantasy. We're all clear on what this means to most people, right?
Magic.
Since the group did not exactly consist of science fiction/fantasy fans (it's safe to say I was the only one in the group) conversation meandered over to disability issues. My mother noted that when you're chronically ill, you tend to want to spend your good moments enjoying life, not focused on disabled advocacy. Nonetheless, the group agreed that I am nice and articulate and should spend my time doing disabled advocacy, even if I want to write about, say, magic instead.
Fortunately enough things started to explode outside, so to the balconies we headed.
I mentioned that you can see Universal Studios from the condo, right? This unfortunately means that you can also see Universal's Rip Ride Rockit, which from a distance at night looks like a little dragon – or, on July 4th, a little firework - climbing, climbing into the sky and then PLUNGING at a very nasty angle to its dragon death. (Ironically, the cars on Universal's Dragon Challenge ride, from a distance, don't resemble dragons at all.) It's kinda sickening, although I am assured by no less an expert than a ten year old that "Oh that ride is TOTALLY AWESOME BUT YOU HAVE TO RIDE IT AT LEAST FOUR TIMES BEFORE YOU THROW UP." So, um, now you know. You will not be getting my personal testimony on this subject.
But anyway. You can also see Hogwarts rising from the end of the park – and, as it turns out, blocking the main place where Universal Studios used to set off their fireworks, with the result that Universal gave us only a Small and Sad fireworks show, but whatever. This led to a discussion about various trips by grandchildren (I should have mentioned that I was by far the youngest person there) who were all Very Excited about Universal Studios. MF, who, as I may have mentioned, is a very nice woman who deserves better than to be tortured by thrill rides, made a few jokes about it; C revealed that he doesn't actually know the difference between Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter (he'd seen bits of the movies but gotten bored, and never read any of the books). My mother and C complained about the rumors of lines (reportedly still two to four hours, which in Florida summer heat is no joke). I admitted that I loved Harry Potter and was planning on going once the temperatures, at least, got reasonable (I'm not holding out much hope for reasonable lines), and my mother explained that she would be dropping me off, but not bothering to enter herself, and B noted that her grandchildren wanted to see Harry Potter, but that she had read all about witchcraft and wizardry in the Bible, and she knew what the Bible had to say about wizardry and witchcraft.
Pause.
I should note, by the way, that this is not an attitude I tend to associate with the United Methodist Church. (Also, to stave off some potential comments – yes, I'm agnostic; no, I have no problems with churches or Christians.)
Conversation shifted, for awhile, to other things – church gossip, grandchildren gossip, fireworks excitement, general agreement that watching the Rip Ride Rockit and Magical Midway's Slingslot thingy was making everyone sick, and then another mention of Harry Potter, and B admitting that she'd seen the various lines of people heading to or already inside Universal, pretending to be witches.
"Seeing them in their costumes and those wands –" her breath caught a little –"it makes me sick."
Awkward pause.
It took me a few seconds to open my mouth to answer, but MF was there first. "Well, you have to give Harry Potter credit for at least one thing," she said. "It's got kids actually reading real books. That's something."
"That's true," said C hastily.
But I, the fantasy writer, said nothing. Perhaps I should have, but then again, I'd already noted that I was planning on handing over hard earned money to Universal Studios for the sake of Harry Potter, that I liked Harry Potter, and, more critically, that I actually write the sort of things she finds so evil and sickening. Perhaps, I thought, in her focus on the evil of wizards and witchcraft, she missed that the word "fantasy" encompasses both. And I did not want to start an argument in my mother's home with one of her guests - especially since arguing would not have done any good.
Before she left, B told me, again, that I really should become a disabled advocate. The phrase "God's plan" might have been mentioned.
I don't have a neat summary sentence to end this post. It's just a report, really.
I headed over to my mother's for a small July 4th party. So you know, my mother has a condo that overlooks a small lake and just beyond that, Universal Studios/Islands of Adventure on one side. From another balcony, you can see SeaWorld's occasional fireworks, and if you don't mind heading into the hallway, you can more or less see Disney's fireworks in the distance. That, combined with various small private celebrations (Florida: we can and will use gunpowder at will! YAY!) makes it a pretty decent place to watch fireworks, even if this year, the larger celebrations (the various city/town/neighborhood/resort fireworks) were split up between two nights.
Joining us were some friends and acquaintances from my mother's church – A and B (not their real initials), the acquaintances, and C and MF (their real initials; I think a few of you have actually met them), the actual friends. A was a quiet, older, uncertain man, eager to please; B, his wife, held herself carefully, tightly, and watched everyone. C and I bonded again over a mutual hatred for Alamo Rent-A-Car and Continental Airlines and Delta Airlines while A listened and nodded, and in another area my mother caught up on church news with B and MF.
Over dinner my mother, who really liked my story in Shine: An Anthology of Optimistic Science Fiction and wants me to write more things like that, instead of "that weird stuff," brought up, proudly, the subject of my writing and "all of her great reviews," and I clarified that yes, I write science fiction and – and this is important – fantasy. Fantasy. Fantasy. We're all clear on what this means to most people, right?
Magic.
Since the group did not exactly consist of science fiction/fantasy fans (it's safe to say I was the only one in the group) conversation meandered over to disability issues. My mother noted that when you're chronically ill, you tend to want to spend your good moments enjoying life, not focused on disabled advocacy. Nonetheless, the group agreed that I am nice and articulate and should spend my time doing disabled advocacy, even if I want to write about, say, magic instead.
Fortunately enough things started to explode outside, so to the balconies we headed.
I mentioned that you can see Universal Studios from the condo, right? This unfortunately means that you can also see Universal's Rip Ride Rockit, which from a distance at night looks like a little dragon – or, on July 4th, a little firework - climbing, climbing into the sky and then PLUNGING at a very nasty angle to its dragon death. (Ironically, the cars on Universal's Dragon Challenge ride, from a distance, don't resemble dragons at all.) It's kinda sickening, although I am assured by no less an expert than a ten year old that "Oh that ride is TOTALLY AWESOME BUT YOU HAVE TO RIDE IT AT LEAST FOUR TIMES BEFORE YOU THROW UP." So, um, now you know. You will not be getting my personal testimony on this subject.
But anyway. You can also see Hogwarts rising from the end of the park – and, as it turns out, blocking the main place where Universal Studios used to set off their fireworks, with the result that Universal gave us only a Small and Sad fireworks show, but whatever. This led to a discussion about various trips by grandchildren (I should have mentioned that I was by far the youngest person there) who were all Very Excited about Universal Studios. MF, who, as I may have mentioned, is a very nice woman who deserves better than to be tortured by thrill rides, made a few jokes about it; C revealed that he doesn't actually know the difference between Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter (he'd seen bits of the movies but gotten bored, and never read any of the books). My mother and C complained about the rumors of lines (reportedly still two to four hours, which in Florida summer heat is no joke). I admitted that I loved Harry Potter and was planning on going once the temperatures, at least, got reasonable (I'm not holding out much hope for reasonable lines), and my mother explained that she would be dropping me off, but not bothering to enter herself, and B noted that her grandchildren wanted to see Harry Potter, but that she had read all about witchcraft and wizardry in the Bible, and she knew what the Bible had to say about wizardry and witchcraft.
Pause.
I should note, by the way, that this is not an attitude I tend to associate with the United Methodist Church. (Also, to stave off some potential comments – yes, I'm agnostic; no, I have no problems with churches or Christians.)
Conversation shifted, for awhile, to other things – church gossip, grandchildren gossip, fireworks excitement, general agreement that watching the Rip Ride Rockit and Magical Midway's Slingslot thingy was making everyone sick, and then another mention of Harry Potter, and B admitting that she'd seen the various lines of people heading to or already inside Universal, pretending to be witches.
"Seeing them in their costumes and those wands –" her breath caught a little –"it makes me sick."
Awkward pause.
It took me a few seconds to open my mouth to answer, but MF was there first. "Well, you have to give Harry Potter credit for at least one thing," she said. "It's got kids actually reading real books. That's something."
"That's true," said C hastily.
But I, the fantasy writer, said nothing. Perhaps I should have, but then again, I'd already noted that I was planning on handing over hard earned money to Universal Studios for the sake of Harry Potter, that I liked Harry Potter, and, more critically, that I actually write the sort of things she finds so evil and sickening. Perhaps, I thought, in her focus on the evil of wizards and witchcraft, she missed that the word "fantasy" encompasses both. And I did not want to start an argument in my mother's home with one of her guests - especially since arguing would not have done any good.
Before she left, B told me, again, that I really should become a disabled advocate. The phrase "God's plan" might have been mentioned.
I don't have a neat summary sentence to end this post. It's just a report, really.