This is Mommy's mess to clean.

Another “A” Paper…

the demands of the ticktockman

 

    Mixing the genres of science fiction and fantasy, Harlan Ellison created a world of order in need of social revolution. Standing alone, "Repent Harlequin! Said the Ticktockman", may seem an odd addition to any library, but when compared with the reality of our industry driven nation the story resonates the truth of the decline of individuality and personal accountability.

Who is the Ticktockman?

    In the opening of the story, Ellison quotes Thoreau from his book "Civil Disobedience": "The mass of men serve the state thus, not as men mainly, but as machines…" (Ellison 363). Thoreau's statement illustrates the lack of compassion and thought needed to run a healthy government and society. This machine-like government needs a machine-like enforcer—the Ticktockman. While he is a man remaining masked, the Ticktockman carried the responsibility of cutting back the time people have to live. As Master Timekeeper, he was given the burden of finding the "Harlequin" and punishing him according to his crimes.

    This idea of a Ticktockman immediately creates controversy to the readers. How can one man be given the ultimate power to end life? Who gives him that power, and what rules govern his use of it? To understand who he is, we must first understand what he fights.

The Harlequin

    Seen as a destructor of their utopian society, the Harlequin endeavors to disrupt the mindless obedience of the citizens and inspire them to live a free life of pleasure and chaos. In a paper written by Earl V. Bryant from the University of New Orleans, the Harlequin is described as a living representation of the great festival Mardi Gras (Bryant). This carnival involves celebrating life and indulging in the pleasures surrounding us. Bryant continues his connection of the Harlequin to Mardi Gras with the colors of the jellybeans and the colors of the parade: purple, green and yellow (Bryant).

    Once again the reader must face another question: are the indulgences of the Harlequin liberating, or are they simply the outward demonstrations of an undisciplined life? Where does a society find the balance between living free and order? Truly, the Harlequin not only disturbs life in the cozy land of the story, but starts a debate among readers about the amount of power and control given to government and industry.

From an Ethical Perspective

    Do we serve the government, or does the government serve us? In Ellison's work, we read about a people who are nothing more than the cogs of a machine running so efficiently that a simple delay of seven minutes can disrupt the economy. These drones may seem fictional, but in an honest comparison the similarities are shocking. We, as a people, shop in giant stores, drive on giant roads, vote in giant elections. The individual voices of our land drown in a sea of commonality. In turn, our blind following of "the rules" has placed us in a strange relationship with major companies to tell us what to buy and where to visit. The desire for individual expression and exploration has fallen into an abyss and covered by the ease of a pre-packaged life.

    The Ticktockman has the power to shorten life. With simple controls, he can exact justice for tardiness and other careless behaviors. This too holds great significance when juxtaposed with the "Rat Race" and other financial pursuits. Every person has the right to earn a living and provide for their families, but what is the cost of excess? When does making money become more important than living? In the United States millions of vacations days are wasted every year by workers unable or unwilling to use them. Our purpose is not simply working so that we can live, but living so that we can work.

    Ellison's warning shouts from the story with every turn of the page and culminates with "one day we no longer let time serve us, we serve time and we are slaves of the schedule" (Ellison 367). The reverse order of our lives leads to an enslavement of the soul; by surrendering to the demands of work and social order, an individual forfeits the beauty of life and assumes the role of machine.

Marxism and the Ticktockman

    In a utopian society, the health of the individual spirit is equal to the health of a nation. If one of our fellow citizens suffers, we all suffer. By realizing the importance of the individual a nation can lift and sustain even its weakest members. There may be little to profit from this theory in a monetary sense, but there will be much to gain in the humanities as humans are celebrated as equals.

We are subjects to our own laws. We possess the power to change our land—we just need to get off the couch. In rising for the defense of our countryman, the powers that govern our land would have no choice but to comply. Going to war for the profit of industry would become a thing of the past. Indulging in the carnal lusts of men would be replaced by the enjoyment of a land filled with equality and hope for all residents. Certainly the lure of a land with order and efficiency has its appeal, but at what cost? It is possible that order and efficiency would be the product of a peaceful land. Rather than enforce law, let us enforce life, and enjoy the new land created from the harmony of souls in true unity.

Conclusion

    The Ticktockman's purpose serves as warning to the destruction of living free. The giant sentinel dominates a world enforcing profit and order, but there is hope; laughing, loving and living prove the best antidote for a sterile life devoid of pleasure.

Works Cited

Bryant, Earle V. "Ellison's "REPENT HARLEQUIN!" SAID THE TICKTOCKMAN." Explicator 59.3 (Spring2001 2001): 163. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. [SLCC Library], [Taylorsville], [UT]. 8 Aug. 2009 <http://libweb.slcc.edu:2436/login.aspx?direct=true&db=aph&AN=5011286&site=ehost-live>.

Ellison, Harlan. ""Repent, Harliquin!" Said the Ticktockman." Klotz, Richard Abcarian & Marvin. Literature The Human Experience. Boston: Bedford/ St. Martin, 2007. 363-372.

 

Almost Perfect

A couple weeks ago I purchased a new straight razor.  The cuts are becoming smaller and fewer, but I still have to learn some more shaving skills.

Saturday Morning Fun

We had breakfast at the Roundhouse Cafe then took a drive to Temple Square for a nice little morning as a family.  Now it is time to get home so mommy can get some rest; no fun being sick on a weekend.

He wants a turn to drive

Oregon or Bust

Once again Little Man and I are ready and waiting in the car for mom.  Once she gets in, we will be on our way to a great relaxing vacation in Oregon and Yellowstone.  Just waiting.  And waiting.

The Hounds

Akela on the left and Trucha on the right

“Harlem”

In the poem "Harlem" by Langston Hughes, the poet creates an image of decay. At the height of the New Negro Renaissance, Harlem became the home for a new wave of thought and creativity. Despite the overwhelming popularity given to the small neighborhood in New York City, Hughes records the eventual decline and departure of the intellectual leaders from the Mecca of the greatest cultural change of the twentieth century. "Harlem" foretells of the despair that most residents of the neighborhood will go through, as their dream of equality and prosperity is "deferred".

The poet begins the poem with a question that could easily pass for a philosophical discussion at the dinner table: "What happens to a dream deferred?" (406, 1). The word deferred stands out to the reader in considering what really happened to the dream. By stating that the dream had been deferred, the author allows for the dream to return. Deferring a dream is not the same as destroying it. Most often the reader will associate military service or college when thinking about deferment. This suggests to the reader that the author's dream is being deferred for a higher cause. Whether the dream is put on hold for war—a battle for equality, or for the education of the Black residents—a time to learn and then return ready to share the knowledge with their neighbors and family, eventually that dream will return to claim all the glory it was intended to receive.

The poet continues the writing by starting to list some possible outcomes for the deferred dream. "Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore—and then run?" (406, 2-5). Using the imagery of a raisin in the sun creates the feeling of something small reacting to a large amount of heat. This represents the great oppression the residents and Black leaders were facing at the time from the popular majority parties. The rhyme of these two lines is ABA. By linking the sentences together to allow the reader to feel the heat and pain felt by members of his community, the author takes the reader on a journey into the feelings and disappointment of the Harlem residents.

Continuing on with his theme of a dream deferred, the speaker then compares the dream to food: "Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over—like a sugary sweet?" (406, 6-8). The author's use of meat and sugar signify to the reader the importance of this great dream. Meat feeds and builds the body with a lasting protein while a syrupy sweet is a treat best saved for after meals—a simple dessert. Is this dream the nourishment needed to endure the trials ahead, or does the dream more closely resemble the sweet joys of art; providing pleasure but no lasting energy for life? The words chosen by the speaker create the images of a large feast prepared to celebrate the victory of war, but with no one attending, the food sours and remaining inedible to anyone who shows up late.

The author switches from the imagery of food to a much more pressing comparison: "Maybe it just sags like a heavy load." (406, 9-10). This image relates to the buildings of a once thriving neighborhood. The Apollo Theater for example fell close to ruin after the movement that defined much of Harlem ended. Not only are the buildings aging, but the people too; poverty, crime, and neglect have crippled a large number of Harlem residents. Those wishing to leave the rough neighborhood are often required to work harder and longer than their peers living across town.

The most chilling lines of this poem have been saved by the author for the end. Realizing that people will only be kept down for so long, and that the dream that had been deferred will soon return giving life and hope to the dreamers, the poet leaves the reader with a sense of the power and fight left inside: "Or does it explode?" (406, 11). Will there be an explosion? Will it come from the inside or the outside? The author does not tell when and where, just a simple question perhaps left as a warning serves as a cautionary conclusion to a poignant poem.

Grandpa Capson

We went to the Capson's home earlier this afternoon for some great food and the giant slide.  Little Man enjoyed some time with Grandpa, and being a crazy kid.

A- Racism. B- Sexism. C- Classism. D- All the above.

In my Summer courses at SLCC I have discovered great poetry and literature. The classes give me the flexibility I need to have plenty of time with my family, and I am grateful for that. However, in my Humanities course I spend many hours watching slide shows created by the Dean of the department. Despite his dry and repetitious delivery, I usually take with me lessons about equality and social justice. This is why I was somewhat disturbed last week when I was watching his presentation on race. He rarely makes jokes, and this time he made one that seemed inappropriate to me.



Perhaps I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but I was not amused at this little joke. In a class teaching the importance of different classes, races, sexes, genders and ethnicity, this man decided to poke fun at someone who has defied many odds and become a global activist. I am not going to say that I am a great Oprah fan, but I will stand up to defend her dignity.

I have spoken with a few people at work; some agree with me, and some think that I am blowing this out of proportion. What I want to know is, where can jokes like this be made? Is the classroom the forum to laugh at the "others" in society? I sent the following note to my teacher (who is not the dean) about this joke.

"On a side note I would like to point out that the joke made by “Professor” Allen is inappropriate not only for this course but for any educator endeavoring to teach lessons of equality and dignity. By claiming, in a humorous way, that Oprah possesses half the wealth of African Americans, he demeans both women and Blacks. Why is he concerned with the amount of money that she has made? Is it because she is a woman? Is he bothered that a Black person could earn more money than he? Where was the joke about Rupert Murdoch or Bill Gates? While I am a great fan of humor, I find it unprofessional for him to abuse his position of an educator to make light of anyone’s personal achievements."

I may have just woke on the wrong side of the bed, but it has been several days and I still feel the same way.

What do you think?

Jimmy Santiago Baca- A poet worth reading

So Mexicans are Taking Jobs from Americans

O Yes? Do they come on horses
with rifles, and say,

Ese gringo, gimmee your job?

And do you, gringo, take off your ring,
drop your wallet into a blanket
spread over the ground, and walk away?

I hear Mexicans are taking your jobs away.
Do they sneak into town at night,
and as you’re walking home with a whore,
do they mug you, a knife at your throat,
saying, I want your job?

Even on TV, an asthmatic leader
crawls turtle heavy, leaning on an assistant,
and from a nest of wrinkles on his face,
a tongue paddles through flashing waves
of lightbulbs, of cameramen, rasping
“They’re taking our jobs away.”

Well, I’ve gone about trying to find them,
asking just where the hell are these fighters.
The rifles I hear sound in the night
are white farmers shooting blacks and browns
whose ribs I see jutting out
and starving children,
I see the poor marching for a little work,
I see small white farmers selling out
to clean-suited farmers living in New York,
who’ve never been on a farm,
don’t know the look of a hoof or the smell
of a woman’s body bending all day long in fields.

I see this, and I hear only a few people
got all the money in this world, the rest
count their pennies to buy bread and butter.

Below that cool green sea of money,
millions and millions of people fight to live,
search for pearls in the darkest depths
of their dreams, hold their breath for years
trying to cross poverty to just having something.

The children are dead already. We are killing them,
that is what America should be saying;
on TV, in the streets, in offices, should be saying,
“We aren’t giving the children a chance to live.”

Mexicans are taking our jobs, they say instead.
What they really say is, let them die,
and the children too.

–Jimmy Santiago Baca, 1977

Happy Outside

We like to have some playtime out in the backyard.  I can't belive how old our Little Man is getting!

Playtime

Little Man likes to play with his hats, so that is what we did tonight. I love that kid!

Swimming Time

Little Man and the Woman enjoying some water on a great Utah afternoon.

Daddy does breakfast right

Saturday morning eggs and toast, the little man is happy!

Woman got her groove on!

Daddy Bear and Baby Bear

Happy at The Bellagio

Four Little Men

The View by Day