Cats in the Cradle

We got a package in the mail from my grandmother yesterday, and inside was a card and a vinyl pouch. The vinyl pouch itself contained a single place setting of child-sized silverware, and the card described how the setting had been used by first my Dad and then his younger sister. Grandma wanted to send it along as a family heirloom for our daughter to use, and one day we'll pass it along to the next generation. I love the gesture and the tradition. More than anything, it makes me feel close to my grandfather - I guess it's a little weird that this year he'll have been gone for more than half my life, but that doesn't really change the impact he had on me or the fact that I still think of him.

It also (on a purely literal level, silver spoons and all) reminded me of the old Harry Chapin song, which basically talks about how quickly life really does go by and how it's easy to overlook or take for granted the small, simple moments which make life so much sweeter and meaningful. Elizabeth is only a month old and I'm already wondering if I've taken enough photos and savored the snuggles enough to remember this part of her life. She changes a little bit every day. It's fascinating and it makes me wonder what life would be like if we all kept developing at the same pace through our entire childhood and adulthood (maybe we're meant to, and most of us just don't, for whatever reason?)

And finally, because memory is associative, thinking of Harry Chapin made me think of the time we studied ballads in high school English class. Cats in the Cradle was the example ballad, and then we had to all choose one and do a presentation on it. I was sooooo proud of myself for realizing that Whiskey In the Jar fit all the criteria, and I thought I was such a rebel for presenting a Metallica song in a Catholic school. Like I said, it's the little things that make life fun... :-P

Old Eddie

(Note: I wrote this post back in July of 2010 but it was sitting in the "drafts" pile. I guess I had more to say, but the thought seems more or less complete at this reading...)

Right now I'm reading "A Game of Thrones." For the most part, it's very good - at least, the characters and settings are written quite vividly and the storyline is pretty interesting.

One thing that bugs me, though - and it's actually probably a testament to the skill of the author that he's managed to provoke a reaction in me - is the part of the storyline involving a young prince (age 15) riding off to war with his mother acting as his backbone. She manipulates him into making what she sees as wise choices for battle, and she bargains in his stead with a landowner that controls access to land that he (they) believe they need to take. She reflects that to her, he never seemed more manly than he did the very second he swallowed hard and accepted the terms that she negotiated for him.

(As a side note, she almost single-handedly started the war, by being ultra reactive and jumping to some unsubstantiated conclusions, and taking some very rash action.)

In some ways the interactions between the adolescent prince and his mother remind me of the dynamic between Paul Atreides and Jessica in "Dune."

I'm trying to think of well-known non sci-fi books that have the same degree of mother-son influence, and I'm drawing a blank. (Anyone want to fill in? I'm sure there are some. I think I've probably just been reading too much sci-fi recently.)

This whole train of thought combined with what I know of most people's tendencies to project quite a bit when they write fiction leads me to wonder...are male science fiction writers more likely to be mama's boys?