R is for Reunion

This weekend I will be attending my high school reunion. I won't say what number this is; let's just say it's more than 20, and there will probably be a lot of old people attending. Not me, of course; I've hardly changed since high school.
Anyway, since I haven't been yet, I am posting my favorite reunion cartoons. Hope you enjoy them.

K is for Katmiss Everdeen

Anyone out there who doesn't know Katmiss Everdeen? Then you've been asleep for the last couple of years.

What makes Katmiss, the heroine of The Hunger Games, so special? My book club discussed this--yes, we often read Young Adult novels if they look interesting--and we decided it's because she's not a ditzy high school girl who falls for the first vampire she encounters, nor is she even searching for a boyfriend. She's too busy making a life for herself and her family in the most difficult circumstances. strong and tough, loyal and noble, sacrificing herself for her little sister. What's not to like?



She's a heroine young girls (and even boys) want to emulate. Okay, she kills a few people, but she has to in order to survive the Games. Jennifer Lawrence plays her to perfection in the movie.

I think Katmiss is a character who will remain an icon of YA literature for many years to come. What do you think?

F is for Fears

Besides dying, which I imagine is a universal fear, I am afraid of bugs and birds.


Look at these bugs. What could be grosser--more gross?--than a picture of a bunch of insects. I'm sure they fill important niches in the world, but I can't relate to them. If you live along the Gulf Coast, you are visited by cockroaches--the large, outside kind--no matter how squeaky clean your house is. You can squash them, but that grosses me out. A friend of mine used to drop the phone book on them and wait for her husband to come home and dispose of the corpse. That strikes me as too "helpless little princess", and besides I no longer have a husband to act as hired killer, so I spray them with bug spray until they are dead. Once I discovered an enormous roach crawling lazily across my ceiling as if he owned the territory. I couldn't reach him with the spray but I finally sort of guided him in the right direction and then spritzed him. He dropped to the floor and I put a newspaper over him, planning to get rid of him later. A few minutes passed and then the newspaper started to move. I lifted a corner and sprayed again. The paper kept moving, I kept spraying until finally, finally he expired. As I scooped up the paper, I thought of Rasputin, the Russian monk who was supposedly shot repeatedly, survived, then clubbed, survived, and finally drowned. Perhaps the evil monk was actually a giant cockroach.


My fear of birds began with an incident in my childhood. One evening I walked down our hallway and started to open the glass door into the living room. To my surprise, I saw a small black bird. It was madly circling the room, I suppose trying to get out. I screamed and our housekeeper came running. Grabbing a broom, she opened the outside door and eventually chased the bird outside. By this time, I was sitting on the floor crying. "Where did it come from?" I howled. "Must have flown in through the chimney," she said and patted my shoulder. But I was not comforted. I wanted my mother but she was in the hospital, giving birth to my sister. I had always wanted a sister and had saved up money in my bank because Daddy had told me it cost $100 to pay for a baby. Now I wasn't so sure about this baby business. This little creature would probably usurp my spot in the family. She'd already taken Mommy away when I needed her.

I did learn to love my sister, and eventually I learned to walk past the fireplace without cringing (Daddy had a screen put over the top of the chinmney). Still, I've never gotten over my distaste for birds or my fear that one will fly at me someday and peck me on the head.

What about you? Do you have irrational fears, or is it just me?

E is for the Prophet Elijah

Passover begins tomorrow night. The holiday commemorates the Exodus from Egypt. At the beginning of the seder meal, the youngest child asks four questions, beginning with, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" The story of the Exodus is recounted with everyone in turn reading a passage, symbolic foods are eaten, and four cups of wine are drunk. At the end of the meal a fifth cup of wine is poured. According to tradition, this cup is for the prophet Elijah, who visits every home during the seder. The children open the door and usually gather round with excitement. Is Elijah really there? Is the liquid in the glass moving just the tiniest bit? For most kids, it's the favorite part of the evening.




But what is the meaning of Elijah's visit? There are various answers, any of which might be true. One is that the fifth cup, which is never drunk, symbolizes the final redemption of the Jewish people, when they are gathered into the Land of Israel. Another is that the door is opened and left unguarded to symbolize faith in God's protection.




In very recent times, a new tradition has been introduced by feminists: Miriam's cup. Miriam was the sister of Moses, and it is said that when the Israelites crossed the Red Sea safely, she led the women in dance. It's also said that Miriam brought water during the years in the desert, that water followed her wherever she went; thus, Miriam's cup is filled, not with wine, but with water.



One of my favorite books for middle grade children, The Devil's Artithmetic by Jane Yolen begins with a seder. The girl, who has been grumbling about being there, is asked to open the door for Elijah and when she does, she steps back in time to the world of the Holocaust.



And if you'd like a really ireverent seder sketch, check out the archives of Saturday Night Live and find Jerry Seinfeld as Elijah.