Crying

My sister Kate, who has a husband and a son, both beautiful boys, sent an email:

"For 14 years I have refused to allow TV in my house. But finally, I decided to give up being a control freak, so I bought them the Sports Cable TV package for Christmas. Now I realize it's not so bad. They love watching the Celtics, and you know what: I'm learning about soccer and basketball, and it's kind of fun!"

Wise words spoken by an eco-feminist earth-mother.

I lasted only one year. I gave in to letting Poo and the boys watching their stupid Thai ghost-movies. But Thun also watched National Geographic, and Poo, mesmerized by HBO, tries to tell me: you should watch this movie, romantic comedy, it's good!

Tonight on HBO I watched a film with black people from America. Maya Angelou was involved, so there was good poetry and good music. I cried three times. Poo kept laughing at me, "are you CRYING?" Now I believe she is right: Mick, you are missing America. It's true, I miss my family, but I miss that Southern culture, too, especially African-Americans.