TJ Hirst

The word, juxtaposition, befuddles me. On the AP English test for college credit in high school, I was to explain the juxtaposition of two ideas in a literary work. I flubbed it. Ever since, using that word makes me self-conscious.

Ironically, I love it’s meaning, which is to place side-by-side, especially for comparison or contrast. In fact, most of my writing is juxtaposition because that is how I view life. Over the weekend I watched two movies—one night, Becoming Jane, and Ironman the next night. The contrast seems as clear as female and male. But when they are juxtaposed, the packaging fades and similarities stand out.

I often go into a Jane Austen movie adaptation expecting a lighthearted feminine romance. This is how they often appear to be marketed by the movie industry seeking women’s dollars. But that is never how these “chick flicks” play out. From under the flouncing gowns comes the crux of larger matters, deeper matters, which are the hallmark of Austen’s hand. Likewise, the movie that tells her history couldn’t be called just a romance in that way either.

Hers is a story of a woman developing her talent to write while developing as a woman. That struggle enhances her writing in the long run, even as poverty and situation complicate it. Influences encourage her to define womanhood as shallow, “Flirting is a woman’s trade, one must keep in practice” as one woman companion supposes. Or drudgery—from which her mother wants to save her. Or competitive, “If you wish to be the equal of a masculine writer, experience is vital. Your horizons must be widened. ” This challenge comes from her new acquaintance, Thomas LeFroy. Their ensuing relationship does widen her horizons, but her difficult and surprising choices along the way provide depth to her character and the fictional ones she will create.

A busy schedule kept my husband from seeing Ironman in a late-night screening with “the guys”, so we went for date night. The throngs of teenage boys surrounding us in the theater and the previews told me I was in the wrong demographic for this movie. True to expectation, loud music, big guns, and gratuitous sex reeled the men in.

After analyzing the chick flick, I thought I would get his thoughts on the guy movie. Here was his review: Thoroughly entertaining.

But I know my husband, and I know he lives a life beyond that stuff, so I knew there was more. Unlike Becoming Jane, in which the falsity must first be stripped off to reveal her true nature, Ironman clothes the man to build him up. Whichever process takes us to that end result finds us standing the same in the end.

Even though we may not admit it, we don’t mind whose movie choice brings us to that point. My husband wrote this to the newlywed couple to whom we gave a portable DVD player as a wedding gift: To the groom, Watch the chick flicks with her. To the bride, Let him pick a guy movie once in a while.

Minnesota weather is warming up our lakes for the Governor’s fishing opener in town this weekend. But we aren’t eating walleye. Saturday night is pizza night at our house.

Warm weather moves our tradition of home-baked pizza from our Tulikivi bakeoven to the grill. Yes, we grill our pizza. My husband and I (it takes two to make it right) taught ourselves to do it after discovering this trend almost 10 years ago. Wikipedia dates its origins to 1980 and says “it was inspired by a misunderstanding that confused a wood-fired brick-oven with a grill.”

We love to make our own pizza, so we use both—the wood-fired bakeoven and the grill. In summer we make Grilled Pizza. Here’s how:

First: Make a basic yeast dough for the pizza crust. My favorite recipe is the calzone dough from the Moosewood Cookbook by Mollie Katzen.

1 cup wrist-temperature water
1 ½ tsp. active dry yeast
1 Tbs. honey or sugar
1 ½ tsp. salt
2 ½ - 3 cups flour
olive oil

Place the water in a bowl. Sprinkle in the yeast, and stir in sugar until it dissolves. Stir in the flour and knead in a Kitchen-Aid mixer or by hand. Brush with olive oil and let rise in a warm place untili double in bulk (about 1 hour).

After it rises, I roll the dough out while the toppings are grilling, into a rectangle in a size that fits my grill. I transfer the dough to a large, rectangular baking sheet that is oiled with plenty of olive oil. You can also make smaller individual pizzas.

Second: Grill your toppings. Our favorite combination is grilled steak and onion with a variety of grilled vegetables. For the pizza in the picture I used sirloin tip steak, about ¾ inches thick, and grilled it on a hot grill for 5 minutes per side. I set it aside for a few minutes and then thin-sliced it.

I sliced one Vidalia onion into thick slices and laid them on the grill next to the meat for about 8 minutes total, turning once in between. I cut a medium zucchini in half lengthwise and laid it cut-side down on the grill for 10 minutes total, turning over when I flipped the meat.

I removed everything from the grill. Then, I cut the onion slices in smaller pieces, although sometimes I leave it in half onion rings. I bias-sliced the zucchini.

Third: Prepare herbed olive oil and mozzarella cheese. I pour about 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil into a custard cup and add a variety of herbs (usually thyme and basil), a little salt and possibly some minced garlic. I set this aside with a basting brush. Then I shred mozzarella cheese or open a package of pre-shredded mozzarella, less than two cups per pizza.

Fourth: Grill the dough. With all these ingredients prepared and close at hand, it is grill time. Wipe the grill rack with oil first. We carefully lift the pizza crust from the baking sheet directly onto grill rack. Don’t worry, it won’t fall through. After you lift the pizza on, you can turn the grill down to medium or medium high. Let it cook for 3-5 minutes. It will start to bubble up. If you have hot spots on your grill, you can rotate it around so the front is in the back and the back in the front.

Fifth: Time for topping it. Take the dough off the grill and transfer it, raw side down back to your baking sheet. Brush the cooked side with the herbed olive oil. Sprinkle with a light covering of mozzarella. Lay sliced meat, onions and other vegetables on top of the cheese.

Sixth: Back to the grill. Lift the pizza back onto the grill. You can turn the grill down to medium and shut the grill cover so that the cheese will melt. Continue to check it every two minutes or so, so that the bottom doesn’t burn. It usually cooks in about 3-5 minutes. If you want, you can turn it down lower and cook it longer to make sure the cheese melts.

SERVE with FRESH salsa and sour cream on top. For our salsa, we like a mixture of chopped fresh tomatoes, sliced green onions, mined cilantro, seeded and chopped jalapeno peppers, lime juice, and some salt.

This is creative cooking that is fun for entertaining. Here’s some other tips:

• Practice; it’s worth the effort to get it right.
• Two people working at the grill is preferable to reduce burnt fingers.
• Guests like to stand around and watch, but get it right on your own first.
• Fresh toppings work best.
• Think beyond tomato-based sauces and pepperoni, unless it is a BBQ sauce with grilled chicken.

I wrote my first literary review as a lifestyle writer in a journalism class working for my college newspaper. I reviewed a play or musical at the Sundance Summer Theater at Sundance Resort. The mountain setting captured me, but I wrote what I considered was an honest reaction to the play and the performance. The student editor thought I was too negative and sent me back for another showing. In reality, I was an immature writer who thought I would be doing my job better if I recognized and pointed out the flaws. I probably went looking for them.

A critic is one who forms and expresses judgments of the merits, faults, value, or truth of a matter. A critic can also be one who specializes, especially professionally, in the evaluation and appreciation of literary or artistic works.

My American Heritage Dictionary has this usage note for critique:

Critique has been used as a verb meaning “to review or discuss critically” since the 18th century, but lately this usage has gained wider currency, in part because the verb criticize, once neutral between praise and censure, is now used mainly in a negative sense.

That usage goes along with the third definition of a critic as one who tends to make harsh or carping judgments. The negative connotations of these words—critic and critique—are probably growing now more than ever with the barrage of negative opinions in all forms of media.

I question whether the increase of criticism and opinion has brought us more enlightened solutions or more creative excellence. I copied this quote years ago from an Architectural Record:

a critic can. . . seek out analogies in literature, or history or science or poetry, compare and contrast to what we see around us. A good critic can deepen our love and sharpen our wits, while ferreting out the imperfections and raising questions that we, and he, could answer. . . When it succeeds, criticism informs debate and educates, clarifies the issues and states a position, allowing us to make informed decisions, to be wiser consumers and more ardent and rational proponents for worthwhile efforts.

Robert Ivy
in Architectural Record
July 7, 2001

While we are inundated with more and more information and opinions, I believe our culture continues to need more thought-filled, evaluative writing of this sort. Apparently, there is still room for a critic, we just need to give him or her a new name.

My daughter’s eighth grade English class has been reading To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, and it is the April selection for the Bodacious Bloggity Book Club hosted by Marathon Bird.

I hoped reading it together would prompt conversation with her. Even though my daughter is now my height and the story brought us into the same frame of reference, we were still looking through the window of those words from our own places. She is experiencing this story for the first time. I am relearning and refining.

The first time I read To Kill A Mockingbird is the first time I understood the power of perspective. In the concluding scene the main character, a young girl named Scout, recognizes her change of perspective:

Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough.

I occasionally stand on my neighbor’s front porch to try this exercise. That change of perspective certainly reveals the weaknesses and uncovers the strengths of my own home.

Now, I am reading this book again with parent eyes, with added experience and adult-like assumptions.I am not nearly as fresh. And neither is my perspective.

But only in this place could I discover something new.

Harper Lee’s did not choose Scout to tell the story of misunderstood Arthur “Boo” Radley and maligned Tom Robinson so that younger readers in high school literature discussions could relate to her.

Instead, I believe Lee gave us this story through the young eyes of Scout to replace our tired adult perspectives. In this way, she could strip the prejudice of experience and offer the opportunity to relearn like a child.

Scout’s childhood perceptions aren’t innocent. In fact, as her brother Jem said, it was when they were trying to get their reclusive neighbor, Boo, to come out of his house that this story of overcoming prejudice begins. They think he is quirky and weird, and he is.

But Scout and Jem have to go through the miserable punishment of reading to Mrs Dubose every day for ruining her shrubs and the horrific racial injustices in their community before they prepared to meet and accept the real Boo Radley.

I want to parent like Atticus. He seems like the kind of father that teaches by example rather than always trying to teach with his mouth. For example, in the process of guiding Jem through his punishment with Mrs. Dubose he shows his children how to love someone who is hard to like. Atticus overlooks her flaws and discovers what is majestic about her—her bravery to overcome an addiction.

I teach with my mouth because I like words. As a family we recently watched the movie Amazing Grace (read my review of that here). When my daughter and I considered the impact of that movie on reading this book and what our own prejudices might be against African Americans, it was she who taught me. She said, “It was like when slavery ended, it didn’t end.”

Ironically, it is in the dim light of Jem’s room when Scout finally meets Boo and comes to her own understanding.

They were white hands that had never seen the sun, so white they stood out garishly against the dull cream wall in the dim light of Jem’s room. His face was as white as his hands.

It took her describing him as the individual he really was, not just a creation in her mind for her to see him and know who he is. Later she says,

I wondered why Atticus was inviting us to the front porch instead of the living room, then I understood. The living room lights were awfully strong.

Boo is sensitive to light. This brings this story to a symbolic conclusion for me. While light makes it possible for us to see, being sensitive to that light helps us to not only see but to perceive slight attitudes, feeling and circumstances of others.

Duluth, Minnesota, is one of our family’s favorite Midwestern cities. Just over the crest of a tall hill, as north as Interstate 35 goes, the blue water views of Lake Superior introduce the surprise of this port city in a state that otherwise appears land-locked and flat.

We discover Duluth aesthetics, nature-made and man-made, on every visit. We search the narrow, hilly city streets for the restaurants where the locals eat, watch for shipping traffic to come in and out of the harbor, wait while the Aerial Lift Bridge raises and lowers for them, and pass through “Tunnel Land” (as our children call it) to the scenic North Shore destinations of Gooseberry Falls and Split Rock Lighthouse.

We travel as a family to Duluth at least two weekends a year for church conferences and more frequently by ourselves for other meetings. Since I love to explore new places, I research the web and ask friends about the unknown places we have missed.

I found Skyline Parkway in a guidebook. While my husband was in a meeting with a potential client, my children and I drove this narrow roadway that overlooks the city and Lake Superior. And, we happened upon Enger Park and its lookout tower from behind the fire of fall’s changing leaves.

Memories of these simple adventures prompt us to plan our next ones—UNTIL THIS WEEKEND.

We reserved a suite at a hotel with a water slide. A friend invited us to drive up and see Gooseberry Falls. When that didn’t fit our schedule, she invited us to join them at the Lake Superior Zoo.

“What do you think about the zoo?” I said to my children.

They said, “We would be looking at a big empty place with a lot of colorful toys, waiting for a big animal to come out from hiding to play with them.”

“So what should we do in Duluth?”

From my oldest, a teenager, “We have been going there twice a year for the whole time we lived here—for like eight years. That’s at least 14 times. Nothing’s new anymore. What do we do now? Start over from the beginning and do the same things all over again?”

I can see how they might have outgrown stopping at every Lake Superior beach. Or maybe they have just lost interest in doing it in the unpredictable 40 degree rain and wind.

And I think I understand. This may be a signal that it is time for a change of routine.

But I hesitate. It may be a symptom of our tendency to cast off what is old to discover what’s new, again.

It is important to endure and preserve meaningful traditions. We can redevelop our interest and enjoy new pursuits in the same situation. But should we always?

When it has lost its appeal, it may have also lost its purpose. Perhaps, we might reconsider our purpose.