Monday, March 15, 2010

Life at the Frontier

Memoir Class: I finished the latest memoir for my class that meets next Tuesday. We were to write about a club we belong to or have belonged to. I had planned to write about the Order of the Arrow and my Brotherhood or Vigil ceremony, but as I was cleaning out a box of my old manuscripts, I found a short story about a movie theatre I went to in the late 50s. Much of the story was memoir, so I removed the fictional portions and rewrote the piece as a memoir. The subject is an unofficial club, but it met regularly and had a hugh membership. If you read this, please comment.

Life at the FRONTIER
c. Michael L. Goodman

High noon and cars begin to ease up to the curb at the corner of South Shipp and West Dunnam to disgorge chattering children onto the sidewalk under the marquee of the Frontier Theatre. Mom turns our two toned, blue and white ’57 Ford Country Squire station wagon into line with the rest of the mother chauffeurs. After checking to make sure we each have our dollar and an extra dime to call home, Jill and I hop out into the warm marquee shade with the growing crowd of mostly elementary and junior high kids. Girls in peddle-pushers or pale print dresses, almost all of them with bangs and ponytails that bob and swish as they collect excitedly into familiar gaggles. Boys with crew cuts and flat tops dressed in blue jeans or slacks with white or geometric print button-down shirts and white tee shirts visible at the collar meander singly or in pairs pretending to be interested in the “NOW PLAYING” and “COMING ATTRACTIONS” posters. No one willfully ventures out of the shade into the scorching Saturday sun and the heat radiating off the building’s red brick fa├žade and the sidewalks.

High schoolers usually come later when the kiddie crowd has moved into the theatre, or they wait till the evening show and come with dates; but there are always a few who come to the early matinee. These few older boys among us run a comb through their greased hair to make sure their wimples and ducktails are perfect and furtively check out the older girls in tight skirts with pastel colored blouses who are checking their lipstick or adjust the chiffon scarves at their necks.

When the circular ticket office at the left of the entrance finally opens, we cheer and jostle into a ragged mass of a line. Impatiently, we wait our turn to push our money through the half-circle hole at the bottom of the ticket window. A cool hurricane of stale cigarette smoke mixed with the smell of eau de cologne and the hum of the ceiling fan blows through the hole in the window into our faces. If we do not carefully hold on to our dollars as we push them through, they will escape from our hands and fly back out the window on the breeze. The bored looking girl behind the glass punches colored buttons on the counter, and a ticket jumps out of a slot. Change rolls down a miniature slide into a dish just inside the window. Clink! Clink! Clink!

We push through the glass, double-door entrance, and a flustered, teenage boy in a red jacket and pill box hat punches our ticket. “Stop pushing,” he chides us. “You’ve got time! It hasn’t started yet. Stop pushing!”

The foyer with its charcoal colored walls trimmed in red is always dark as we come in from the bright outside. The red carpets with gold flowers and the red velvet curtains have a faint, comfortable, musty odor of age and stale popcorn mixed with the smell of fresh popcorn from the glass-cased popper behind the snack bar candy counter. The light from the glass candy cases is defused by the pressing crowd of noisy kids. The suspended corn popping pan rumbles as it drips popped corn like golden lava into a yellow mountain below. The candy counter girls have shoveled the last mountain of popcorn into paper bags and thin cardboard boxes and lined them up in regiments against the glass case to await the attack of the matinee kids. Jill and I always buy the same three treats: a dime box of popcorn, a Dr. Pepper, and a nickel Big Hunk. Jill likes Bit-o-Honey sometimes, but I stay with the Big Hung because it’s bigger and lasts longer.

When we have our treats in hand, we weave in and out of the tangle of kids past the steps that lead down to the men’s restroom and pass through the red velvet curtains into a curved, gently ramped hall. The pale blue walls reflect the blue lights high in the ceiling and seem to glow in the darkness helping us find our way up the ramp. At the end of the ramp, we enter a wide, high walled aisle that runs across the middle of the theatre. Kids our age never go up the steps to the raised area above the wall called the “balcony.” That’s where the high school kids sit. I always take Jill to the middle opening in the wall and walk half way down the aisle toward the screen. Sitting in a seat on the middle aisle has the best view of the screen, even though other kids climb in and out of the row. If Jill has to go the bathroom it is easy to get her back to the lobby and return to our seats without having to climb over other kids. I don’t mind taking her when it is not a double feature. We always stay and see the single features twice, so I don’t miss anything.

The side walls have murals painted in shades and tints of blue. On the right wall is a riverboat and trees along the river shore, and on the left is an Indian maiden waving to the riverboat from more trees. After seeing all those westerns, I wonder if she is a decoy for an Indian attack on the riverboat. The murals fade to black when the blue ceiling lights are turned off. The screen flashes into life with a Looney-Tunes or Disney cartoon and the kid chatter turns to cheers and whistles. Usually there is a short subject, a news reel, a cartoon, the feature, and a preview of next week’s movie.

I am enamored with the movies. In the coal dark theatre, I am a participant in a world that is real for only a glittering afternoon. Westerns are my particular favorites. The colored shadows that flicker on the screen in front of me is the only reality for the afternoon, and I relive the stories all week. I am there with Charleton Heston as he parts the Red Sea; I watch the clock inch toward high noon with Gary Cooper; I struggle to pull the African Queen through the feted swamp with Humphrey Bogart; I stand in the Teton valley with Brandon DeWilde and cry for Shane to come back. And I also blubber through tear jerkers like Old Yeller, twice.

After the second showing, the white lights are turned on and the theatre ushers start cleaning up before the evening show. The matinee diehards that are left in the theatre file out into the foyer and line up at the pay phone to call home. We then push out into the real world of a faded afternoon to wait for a ride.

The rows of white light bulbs under the Marquee are now on and they splash light on the windows of passing cars. Neon tubes of red and white on the tower above the marquee spelling out “FRONTIER” sputter and buzz like a thousand angry insects. It is especially nice if it has rained while we were inside. Then the colored lights shimmer on the wet street and passing cars. The sidewalk beneath the marquee is a bright cave where whirling tides of exhaust fumes and ozone and wet dust smells wash over us. But it’s not raining this evening, so warm evening air wafts over us as we read the “COMING ATTACTIONS” posters and count the number of weeks we have to wait for the movies we want to see.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

The Salt Lake City St. Patrick's Day parade was a very wet and cold morning experience. We go every year to see Emma and her lifelong friend, Sarah, dancing down the street with the Crawford Irish Dance School. Alex loves the day, and he has gone with us for several years. His mother was able to go with us this year.  Alex brings a sack with him, holds it open at the side of the street, and the paraders drop candy and treats into his sack. It is easier than Halloween.  Here is our little leprechaun, Alex, before the parade and the rain. We usually stand at the northeast corner of the Gateway across the street from Old Navy. A few years ago, we were about the only people who stood along that street. Now several more families have found this area, which is the least crowded, best view, and most candy.  Most of the Irish danced schools either march/dance along the parade route or have a truck pulling a platform for the dancers to perform on as they move down the line. Crawford School dances down the street, and they always have a huge group. To me, it looks like they have the most dancers of all the schools, at least in the parade. We were happy that the dance schools were performing after the parade in the Union Pacific Building. We always eat lunch at the California Pizza Kitchen. We had only a twenty minute wait this year. The rain sent a lot of people home early, and Gateway was the least crowded I have ever seen it on St. Patrick's Day.


Here is Emma in middle of the second row with a big smile.

One of the many Pipe and Drum Bands pumping up the crowds!

Emma in the middle and Sarah on the left in the Union Pacific Building after the parade.


We caught another leprechaun!

Monday, March 8, 2010

Librarians Meet and the Heavens Weep

The Utah Educational Library Media Association yearly conference was last Friday at Mountain View High School in Orem, Utah. Even with a morning snow storm, we had 100 more attendees than were expecting from the 350 preregistrations. The number of conference attendees keep growing each year, which indicates the interest and dedication of the school librarians in the state of Utah. Our librarians are devoted to their students and spend their own money and time to improve their skills and expand their knowledge in all areas of knowledge and technology. Research continues to show that dedicated librarians in schools are essential for student achievement even while an increasing number of school districts throughout the nation are eliminating librarians and libraries to save money. This these districts do to the detriment of their students.

Anyway, the conference commenced with a keynote address on advocacy, School Library Advocacy: Ensuring Libraries for a Lifetime, by Dr. Ann Ewbank, from Arizona State University. We had a power outage just after she began, but she never became flustered, just adapted, as librarians always do. She moved off the stage closer to the audience, and we all moved down closer to the front of the auditorium. A prepared-for-anything librarian handed her a flashlight to read her notes in the dim glow of the emergency lights, and off we went. Just before she finished, the power came back on, and we saw a few of her slides on the screen.

Three talented Utah authors were guests and presenters at the conference. Utah authors, popular speaker Michael Ramsdell, author of Train to Potevka; James Dashner, author of The Maze Runner and The 13th Reality Series, and LaRene Ellis, author of the Stones’ Quest Series and her memoir How to Rebuild Shattered Dreams. Many of the sessions were packed because the classrooms were smaller than conference rooms we have been used to in the past, and many of us had to scramble to get to other sessions or "camp out" to be in the sessions we just had to see. I was fortunate to be in the session on the Flip Camera co-presented by my old friend and neighbor of 34 years, Brent Woffinden.

The session before lunch, my daughters, Rachel and Rebekah, both childrens' librarians in Salt Lake County Library System, presented their "Prop Me Up: Story Telling for Children." Rachel presented two years ago, and I invited her back with Rebekah last year when I was conference chair. They were the most popular session at the conference last year. They beat me out by two votes. I didn't present this year. I'm taking a rest; can't take the competition.

The lunch was an experience. The caterer had planned to have the attendees pick up their lunch as they entered the cafeteria. But the librarians got ahead of them and came in faster than the caterer could set up, so they sent everyone to sit down at the tables to be served. The problem with that was there were only two girls to serve. Several people started picking up plates and serving the tables at which they were sitting.  With four hundred and fifty people to be served everything fell apart. UELMA board members and a few other altruistic librarians joined in to serve, as librarians always do. Fortunately, everyone seemed to be patient and helped direct us to tables where the hungry were waiting. It was extremely difficult to weave our way through the closely packed cafeteria, but we made it, hopefully before too many lost their patience or missed the next presentation at two o'clock.

After a stormy morning, the sun broke out and the rest of the day was beautiful, eventhough I went back to my school and worked for a few hours cataloging new books.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

The Big Twit

Social Media-Twitterpated: I opened a twitter account this morning, and I can say that I am a big twit when it comes to understanding the mechanics of this social media. I don't find many of these social media accounts "user friendly" at my age. Maybe my brain is too concrete and not sufficiently flexible and intuative to go with the flow. When a novice, who was perfectly content being less wired, joins up, the site presupposes that the person knows all about it and can start right in. Maybe in the case of others, but not me. I decided to seek out some Twitter Tutorials on YouTube and found a few that promised to help make things easy. Unfortunately, the tutorials must have been done a while ago since some of the features they were tutoring me in are not found on the twitter page at which I was looking. Then I went to Wikipedia, and all I found was the history of Twitter, nothing for a novice to learn anything practical about using it. I then went to Google and found Mashable: The Social Media Guide. This is an excellent site for learning the how tos and where fors of social media. There I found the answer to the burning question: "What the retweet button, and how do you use it?"

I tried to use the Find People section like it was demonstrated in the You Tube tutorials, but the "email your friends and let them know you are tech savey by using your contact list" only allowed AOL, Gmail, and Yahoo, not Hotmail as shown in the tutorial. Of course, I have no contact list on AOL, Gmail, or Yahoo, but I do have an extensive list on Hotmail. So I had to do a lot of copy/paste manuevers to send out a notice that I have another wire sticking out of my head.

My "Alice in Technoland" adventure continued when I found I was following seven twitterers by only clicking on one Canyons District IT tweet. AND there was one follower. Wow, all this in a hour and a half.

On Mashable I found this quote about The Twitter Guide Book:
“Twitter is a social network used by millions of people, and thousands more are signing up every day to send short messages to groups of friends. But where’s the user manual for Twitter? Where do new Twitter users go to learn about Tweeting, retweets, hashtags and customizing your Twitter profile? Where do you go if you want to know all about building a community on Twitter, or using Twitter for business? How can you find advanced tools for using Twitter on your phone or your desktop? To answer all these questions and more, we’ve assembled The Twitter Guide Book, a complete collection of resources for mastering Twitter. Happy Tweeting!”   - Pete Cashmore, @Mashable