An Island Away - A Novel

I've just finished reading An Island Away, one of Daniel Putkowski's novels set in Aruba.   My nose is usually in a nineteenth century English novel.  I thrive on Jane Austen, Anthony Trollope, and Arnold Bennet; so An Island Away is a departure from my usual reading fare.  I must warn those of you who are usually immersed in the classics like I am - there's a fair amount of graphic description in An Island Away that you may or may not like.  It's not what I'm used to, but the moral and theological implications of the story make it worthwhile.

The novel's main character is a Columbian girl named Luz.  Youth, beauty, a devotion to family, and dire financial circumstances all combine to send Luz to Aruba to work as a prostitute in the Zone of Tolerance where prostitution is legal.  Luz's acquaintances include American business men, oil refinery workers, and native Arubans, all of whom appreciate and enjoy the carefree Aruban lifestyle.  The town where Luz lives and works is home to numerous bars and houses of prostitution. 

Luz is not without religious principles.  At one point she returns home to Columbia, gets a job at a grocery store, and attempts to live a more conventional life.  But, as a single mother, she is financially responsible for her young son.  Her mother and sister also depend on her, and before long she makes the decision to go back to Aruba where she can make more money in the Zone of Tolerance than she can make at a grocery store.  When she gets back to Aruba, she keeps enough of what she earns to pay her expenses and sends the rest back to Columbia to her mother and sister who are caring for her little son. 

Luz's mother and sister don't know that she's engaged in prostitution.  Even so, they don't approval of her.  They're ungrateful and critical.  They imagine that she is leading a charmed existence in an island paradise.  But Luz continues to sacrifice herself for them even after she brings her son to live with her in Aruba. 

The novel is populated by good timing, devil-may-care types.  But they are a likable bunch.  They care about each other and look out for each other.  Christians could learn a thing or two from them about "bearing one another's burdens."

I can't figure out why Luz didn’t leave the world of prostitution behind when she had an opportunity to make a life with one of the honorable men in her life.  Although she loves her little boy, she sacrifices a relationship with him when she passes up this opportunity.  Has she become so accustomed to a life of prostitution that it's no longer distasteful to her?  Does she doubt the ability of an honorable man to forgive her past?  Does she think she's beyond redemption?  Is she confused enough to think she's done the one thing that even a loving God can't forgive?  She does a pretty good job of rationalizing her decision, but I don't think she's at peace with it.  She loves her little boy too much to be at peace with a decision that excludes him from her life.

 

It always happens to me when I read a good novel - I get attached to the characters and wonder what happens to them after the novel ends, as if they are real flesh and blood people whose lives continue on.  I wish Luz well because there's a great deal that I like and admire about her - her willingness to sacrifice for those she loves, her sense of justice, her ability to maneuver diplomatically in a difficult world.                                   

 

Of course, I suppose I can find the answers to some of these questions about Luz's future by reading Putkowski's sequel, Under a Blue Flag.   I plan to read it eventually, but I think I need a break.  I'm off to read something lighter and less thought provoking.  P. G. Wodehouse maybe.

Obama vs. The Constitution

I've lived long enough to see the Supreme Court make quite a few decisions that I didn't approve of. I've grumbled and complained, and sometimes I've wondered if the judges were off their collective rocker; but I've swallowed hard and remembered what I learned about checks and balances from Mr. Donnelly, my high school Civics teacher.

Our President has no such acceptance of Supreme Court decisions as evidenced by remarks he has made this week. The Court hasn't even made a decision about the President's health care legislation, but the President is warning the Court in advance not to oppose it. He stated that the opposition of the unelected members of the Court to a law that has been passed by the elected members of Congress would be unprecedented. This is a blatantly untrue statement. The Supreme Court is in the business of passing judgements on all kinds of legislation. That's their job.

So - why did the President of the United States of America make such an untrue remark? How do we explain such an outrageous statement by the highest elected official in the land? Here are some possible explanations, none of which are comforting.

1. Ignorance. Maybe President Obama failed high school Civics. Or maybe high school Civics isn't taught anymore. But then, wasn't Obama a professor of Constitutional law before he was President? Can a professor of Constitutional law be this ignorant of Constitutional law? This is a troubling thought, to say the least.

2. Unworthy motives. Could it be that the President is on a systematic campaign to undermine Constitutional law? Maybe he understands Constitutional law, doesn't like it, and wants to destroy it.  A sinister explanation to be sure, but one that must be considered.

3. Unrealistic sympathy. Is it that President Obama is overwhelmed by love for his fellow humans? Maybe he really believes that every human being has a right to be provided for in every way by the government. Maybe he really believes that only an evil Supreme Court would oppose the government's provision of health care. Maybe this great compassion for his fellow humans blinds him to the reality of Constitutional law. This explanation is alarming. Although it allows that President Obama has a good heart, it indicates that his head is deficient.

4. Political ambition. The president is not governing. He is campaigning. And what's the best way to get votes? Appeal to the ignorant, uneducated voters. Promise the moon to people who are too ignorant to know that you can't deliver the moon. Malign the Supreme Court to people who are too ignorant about Constitutional law to know that you're doing the Supreme Court a disservice. This explanation would indicate that the president has an ignoble character.

5. Insanity. The president is pathologically delusional. He thinks the Supreme Court justices are flower pots whose opinions are insignificant if not non-existent. This explanation is not without humor, but its humor doesn't rescue it from the terrifying thought of a mentally ill president.

6. The president is an alien. No, I'm not referring to the controversy about the president's birth certificate. I'm suggesting that he may be from Mars where Constitutional law, of course, must be quite different from Constitutional law in our region of planet Earth. 

There may be other explanations, but the six I've listed have given me a headache. I need a nap.

Rocky's Journal - Springtime in the Barn



Tesoro

Friday, Mar. 23, 2012

There's nothing like a cool, misty spring morning in the barn - especially when Judy (the groom) comes in and gives you the spa treatment.  We got a thorough brushing, and a lot of our old winter hair rolled off.  There was a great big pile of hair from Tesoro, the boss hoss, and smaller piles from me and Fay.  It's not hard to tell who the hairy beast is around here.



Fay

These pictures were taken right after our grooming.  As much as I hate to admit it, Tesoro's picture doesn't do him justice.  He's really better looking than this.  The problem is that he hates the camera so it's hard to get a good picture of him.  I guess maybe the paparazzi followed him around in his youth - although I can't imagine why.  Fay is her cute, red-headed self.  And there's me - the sorrel with the flaxen mane.  I may be at the bottom of the pecking order, but I think it's easy to see who got the looks in this herd.

Me - Rocky

Judy always lets us eat hay out of the aisle rack while she brushes us.  When she turned us out in the pasture this morning, we were expecting hay to be in the outside racks.  After all, Jerry (hay and feed manager) always has hay out there for us when he turns us out on the days we don't get a grooming.  But today the darn hay racks were empty!

We hung around the door to the hay stall, thinking surely some hay was going to make its way out to the racks.  But no.  Judy came out with a shovel and push broom and started cleaning the dirt and debris (nice word for poop) off the concrete wash pad.

The three of us gathered 'round and watched.  My head followed the broom, back and forth, while I listened to Judy talk about how we had been eating hay in the barn all morning, and we weren't going to get any more until after lunch.  She suggested that we do what horses do - graze.  She pointed out that hay counts money while grass is free.  Hmm.  I didn't know that.

After a while, Tesoro laid himself down on the ground and pouted.  Fay stood with her head down, ears back, and that disgusted look she gets on her face.  Me?  I'm a pragmatist.  I ambled off to munch on green grass.  Let 'em pout.  All the more grass for me!

Wednesday, Mar. 28, 2012

Dr. Chapman, the vet, and her two assistants came today to give us our yearly shots.  I don't like shots, but I handle getting a shot better than I used to.  Sometimes you just have to make up your mind to be a grown-up. 

The Yearly Exam

They did the usual prodding and poking that goes with a medical exam.   Of course, being poked by three pretty girls is not bad - better than being poked by some burly old men.

The good news was that we didn't have to have our teeth floated this year.  That's when your teeth have grown kind of pointy, and they have to file them down.  Boy! Do I hate all that!   They usually have to give me and Fay a tranquilizer when they float our teeth.  I don't much like the tranquilizer either.  It makes me feel drunk for an hour or so.  Tesoro shows off sometimes by letting them do his teeth without a tranquilizer. 

Well, this keeping a journal is all well and good, but I've got grazing to do. 

In Donaldsonville with the Camera Club

Jerry and I got up early this morning so we could meet the other members of the Westside Camera Club to set off on the field trip to Donaldsonville that we planned at the last meeting.

We met four other camera club members at 9:00. Our first stop was Palo Alto Plantation on the outskirts of Donaldsonville. There's no large mansion like Nottaway or Houmas House here, but there's an oak-lined road that deserves something spectacular at the end of it. The beautiful old oaks arch and meet over the road.  The main house is a pleasant looking home; but since it's a private residence, we didn't wander around the grounds, being content to take a few pictures from the main road.

Along the oak-lined avenue, which turns off the main road, there are the ruined remains of cabins and farm equipment on either side. It's a quiet place. We were there for about an hour with not more than a half dozen cars passing on the road. As I snapped photos of the cabins, I wouldn't have been surprised to see a ghost or two. If only these ruins could talk . . .

Next we headed to the old part of Donaldsonville, but our first stop was the new park along the river. There's a brick sidewalk, park benches, and old fashioned street lights atop the levee - the prime location for watching the river traffic go by.

The Donaldsonville Museum in the old business district was closed, and that was unfortunate because there are lots of cool vintage items in the display windows. The more experienced photographers in our group got some good photos through the windows.  I'm not so good at through-the-glass photography so you can see my shadow in this photo as well as the reflection of the building behind me.

We drove down the street to Ascension Catholic Church, built in 1876, where we got lots of good exterior photos. Judging from the cars in the parking lot, a service was going on inside. Interior photos will have to wait for some future outing.

We ate lunch at a restaurant and bar on Railroad Avenue called The Capitol. The food was good, and the atmosphere made me think of the early twentieth century.  The Capitol could have been an upscale speakeasy during Prohibition if it's location was more out-of-the-way. I imagine it got its name from the fact that Donaldsonville used to be the state capital.   I guess I was too busy eating to think about taking pictures in the restaurant, but the unusual faucet in the elegant ladies' room deserves at least one photo.

A Gray Saturday

Jerry says it rained last night.  I slept through it and woke up to a gray, cloudy day.

I spent yesterday afternoon scrubbing the stovetop.  A sparkling clean stovetop is a wonderful thing.   The down side is that I'm reluctant to cook and mess it up.  But a clean stovetop does nothing to relieve hunger pains, so chicken is simmering in the red pot. 

The final dish will be chicken and dumplings - a new recipe I'm trying.  My grandmother's chicken and dumplings were wonderful.  I remember watching her roll out the dough to make strip dumplings in her cozy West Virginia kitchen.  I wish I had her recipe, but I don't.  The recipe I'm using calls for canned biscuits that are rolled thin and cut in strips.  I hope they will be at least almost as good as Mema's.  We'll see.

I have a new kitchen faucet, installed by my handy husband.  It's a beautiful thing, and I'm sort of glad the old one wore out - although the price tag on new faucets is staggering.  (It's been a while since we bought a kitchen faucet.)  The brushed stainless finish on the new faucet doesn't seem to show water spots.  And I was really pleased to find that I have much better control over the water flow than I did with the old faucet.

I just discovered the online magazine, The New Noblewoman at www.newnoblewoman.com.  The editor, Amanda Millay, offers lots of interesting articles that instruct and inspire on various subjects from how to get out of a car gracefully to how to brew the perfect cup of tea.  There's a recommended book section.  There are tips about beauty, fashion, and home decorating - all traditional and classic.  It's the Jane Austen lifestyle brought up to date.  I've frequented The Art of Manliness online magazine at www.artofmanliness.com  for quite a while and have often wished there was a female counterpart.  Thanks to Amanda Millay, there is!

My letter rack is full of letters and post cards that need to be answered, and a chilly gray day is the perfect time.  But right now I'm off to check on the chicken and try my hand at dumplings.

Amid the Tombs

There's something serene and peaceful about strolling through a cemetery.  That's what I did this morning along with several other members of the local camera club.  It didn't take me long to snap ninety pictures -  oh, the beauty of digital photography! 

As I took photos of interesting markers and monuments, I couldn't help contrasting old cemeteries like St. John (Plaquemine, Louisiana) with the new modern cemeteries.  

 In old cemeteries, you or your family could choose a unique marker that seemed appropriate for the very unique you.  Your financial condition would have determined whether your marker was modest or elaborate; but either way, you had the option of having a unique marker.

In modern cemeteries there is no option for uniqueness.  All markers are flat plaques at ground level.  They all look alike.  Instead of having your uniqueness honored, you become indistinguishable in a sea of departed humanity. 

There's something cozy about an old cemetery.   Even if none of the names on the markers are familiar to me, I feel like I'm visiting real individuals.  But the coziness is lost in the collectivism of a modern cemetery. 

Oh well, there's no point in lamenting modern cemeteries.  We'll all end up in one unless you're fortunate enough to have a family plot with empty space in an old cemetery.  But sometimes there's no denying that old ways are best.

Time Traveling

Some people live where their ancestral roots are deep, where they know everybody, and everybody knows them.  Others come from nomadic families, destined to live where they have no roots - destined to be outlanders.  Webster defines outlander as "someone from a different region or culture."  I have always been an outlander.  When I was an infant, my parents left southern West Virginia - where they had ancestral roots - and moved to the Florida panhandle.

We made yearly trips to West Virginia to visit relatives.  We always got a warm welcome from our relatives and enjoyed visiting with them.  But even there, where my parents were natives, I was an outlander.  I shared blood with these relatives, but I lived too far away from them to share the experience of daily life.  I was growing up in another world - a world of beaches and palm trees that contrasted sharply to the mountains of West Virginia.  To add to my sense of isolation, I was an only child so there were no brothers or sisters to share my outlander status.

I was an outlander in the Florida fishing village where I spent my childhood.  Most people who lived there fell into one of two categories.  They were either descendants of the original settlers of the county or they were in the Air Force, stationed at the nearby base.  I enjoyed neither the comraderie of the Air Force kids or the full acceptance of the settlers' children. 

 
I am an outlander here in southeastern Louisiana where my husband's roots run deep.  Cajuns are friendly people, but they hold blood and roots in high regard.  When you meet a Cajun for the first time, he's likely to ask who your parents are.  Sometimes you get the feeling that you're set on the sidelines when you say your parents are from another state.  If nothing else betrays my outlander status, my speech will.  I've lived here for 45 years, but often - as soon as I open my mouth - someone will say, "You're not from here, are you?"

I suppose life is easier for an outlander if he lives in a big city.  After all, cities are where outlanders collect.  There are so many outlanders from so many different places that outlander status is the norm.  But in small towns, the natives congregate and talk about their roots and their blood connections, and it's easy for an outlander to feel like a fifth wheel.

After a lifetime of being an outlander, it's no wonder that I was drawn to Diana Gabaldon's book, Outlander.  It's a time-traveling adventure.  I can relate to it because being a lifetime outlander is a little like time-traveling.  Not quite - but almost.