Come and Get 'em!

September 28, 2009

My blog break is hereby interrupted so that I may bring you--
BUTTONS!

Here are a bunch of new buttons for our adoption blog. If you'd like to link to our adoption blog, please feel free! The buttons on the left are 150 pixels wide, the ones on the right are 200 pixels wide. Don't you want to dress your blog up with one of these?! =) Hehe. (C'mon, everybody's doing it. =)

Birdie Button:



Blueberry Stripes Button:

Art Deco Button:

Ampersand Green Button:

Ampersand Purple Button:


If you'd like to see the older buttons, click here. If you decide to link to us: thank you, thank you, thank you! We really appreciate it.

Want to read more about adoption? Click here.

Ok, now back to the regularly scheduled break. I'll be back to blogging in awhile. See you soon!

Much Love. {Continue Reading}

Reflection

September 17, 2009

I’ve always enjoyed a good book. But there are times in my life where I enjoyed them more than others. There are times when books are my saving grace. Sometimes, they are what gets me through the day. One of those times was the summer after I graduated college.

My husband was still in school—madly trying to finish his undergrad so he could study for and take the LSAT that fall and apply for graduate school. And I got a job. I’d graduated with a degree in English and an editing minor, but there just weren’t a lot of editing jobs to go around in our area.

And, before long, I found myself behind a big receptionist’s desk, connecting phone calls, writing up emails, and tracking spreadsheets. It was my temporary fix until my big break came along, and it eventually did, about six months later when I applied for an editing job with an education company off of monster. But, until then, I was stuck. I never felt a deep-seated hatred for my job, but it was monotony on steroids, and some days, I could hardly take the drudgery.

So, I relished that hour-long lunch break every day, and looked forward to it like a kid looks forward to the last day of school. I would drive over to a park a few blocks away, sit on a shaded bench, and unload my lunchbox. Once I was all set up, I’d pull out my book and read the hour away. It was as if my soul relaxed right into the story—even when it was a sad story. And when that inevitable moment came, as I’d look at my watch and know it was time to pack it in, I felt renewed and able to face the rest of the afternoon with a secret smile in my heart.

I read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith that summer. It became one of my favorite books, and Francie became one of my favorite characters, the girl who wanted to read the whole library from A to Z. When I think about her, I still can feel the sun on my face, the hot summer wind, the courage she gave me to go on. A lot of characters have joined Francie, and they each bring to my life a certain something—something I can’t quite explain but can’t live without.

As life gets more hectic and I feel the pressure to succeed more acutely than ever before, I sometimes wish I could have that time back, when I would get an hour out of the day to enjoy the brilliant summer sun and a good book and no one could bother me. Nothing could touch me or scare me or make me wish I was anything more.

Now those times have morphed into late-night flashlight affairs, keeping my poor husband from a comfortable sleep, or a weekend at home where I lock myself away and watch my pile dwindle as I devour each book. It’s making me a faster reader, that’s for sure. I’ll take those “lunch hours” wherever I can get them. I can’t afford to lose them now. And like I said, I’ve always enjoyed a good book.
And so, I am taking a brief hiatus from blogging, to focus on some other things for a bit. My blogging-mind has slowed, so I’m giving it a little respite. I hope to have a nice arsenal saved up for you when I return. (And never fear, I will return—I must!) I’m not sure when that will be, but rest assured that it will be before the new year at least, most likely long before. Anyway, thanks for reading, and I will see you again soon! Tchüß!
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Runaway

September 10, 2009

Well, it’s happened. And not once--but TWICE, people! I think I will write a screenplay about this inspirational story and sell it to the Hallmark Channel or Lifetime. Something along the lines of Tyler, A Real Hero. Ok, perhaps that’s taking it a little too far, but it feels like an accomplishment of enormous proportions in my case. And here’s why: I like running about as much as oil likes water. We just don’t jive. When we’re thrown together, we part as quickly as possible. You can stick us together as much as you want, we will never get along--never.

Until now. Yes, folks, it seems like there is even hope for oil and water these days. I can be taught! The DH and I have been running mornings all summer. Ok, not such a long time, but I’m still going strong, and I’ve learned a few things that I’d love to share. Those of you who are long-time lovers of things athletic will probably get a kick out of it, but those of you who are like me--listen closely--for us there is hope! Hope, I tell you!



1. If you can walk faster than you can run--still run. It may seem counter-productive, but it’s really not. If you’re running--you’re running--and it will still help you build up for the future. Even though those kids walking to class in the morning are looking at you funny and pointing and laughing because you are “pacing” them, just don’t look them in the eye and you can block them out. Anyway, lots of people underestimate the energy and agility of an 8-year-old walking to school! Don’t sweat it.

2. If your feet are falling asleep, that means you have wimpy calf muscles! And, unfortunately, your calves are strangling your ankles, contricting the blood flow to your feet. When you feel your toes tingle, run through it as much as you can and then just stop and stretch, and then keep going. It’s wicked annoying, but eventually, as your legs get stronger, it will go away. Calf raises also help, and stretching out those calves before and after running will help too.

3. If you are burping and you haven’t eaten breakfast yet, it’s probably time to stop guzzling large amounts of Mountain Dew the night before. First of all, it’s empty calories, and second of all--well, just take my word on this one. What you eat can make a difference in how you feel during and after running (uh, yeah, stating the obvious, sorry), so putting the Twinkie down is also a good idea.

4. Find out your neighborhood's garbage pick-up routes and schedule. I know that sounds weird, but you'll find--especially if you run in the morning--it is quite essential. If your neighborhood is like ours, people have to put their overflowing trash bins out front for the truck to come get it, and running by that at 7:00 a.m. is not happy-making. Don't give yourself another reason to quit. Because trust me, it's a legitimate reason. Run in the sections of your area on the days they aren't having trash collection.

5. The zone is real. I cannot stress this enough: THE ZONE IS REAL. For all of you haters out there who say, “Oh, I’m just not a runner,” let me tell you from the Queen of Running Hatred: EVERYONE can be a runner! And I can say that with a bit of certainty because I’m the most unlikely person to run that I know. Once you hit that zone, you’ll be so happy, you will forget all that pain that got you to that point--and you’ll just want to do it again and again. It sounds masochistic, but I promise you it’s worth it. Think about it like childbirth: the zone is your cute, pudgy, pinch-those-checks exercise baby. The benefits far outweigh the risks.

6. Don’t run to lose weight. At least not to begin with. Run for the other advantages--there are tons of them, by the way: healthy heart and lungs, improved bone health, enhanced mood (bring on those endorphins! I’ll say it again: THE ZONE IS REAL), better coordination, more energy. If you start out hoping to lose weight, you’ll just get sick of it and quit before you get anywhere because running is hard and you have to build up some stamina before you start losing any weight. Don’t get me wrong, running is a great form of exercise to lose weight, just start out with many other motivations--you’ll stay on track that way.

7. Go to bed. I don’t care how cool that late night program is, or how riveting that novel is, it will not be worth it when you try to pull your sorry, lazy rearend out of bed in the morning. And it gives you too good of an excuse to sleep in and then tell yourself you’ll run “tonight” or “tomorrow,” and we all know what that means. So, listen to your mother, and hit the sack early.

8. Get an iPod. This is probably somewhat akin to my cell phone thing, I’m most likely the last person in America to get one, so when I say get an iPod, you’re probably thinking . . . uh, ok, done. But if you are like me, I don’t really listen to music that often, and when I do, I’m always by a computer, so I just listen online. However, running with an iPod can really help to distract you as you find your way to the zone (I know what you are thinking, but the ZONE IS REAL. I SWEAR it.) so that you don’t give up. I also like to listen to podcasts because when I’m listening to a story I get all caught up in it and I forget that my calves are on fire. There’s a lot to be said for distractions, which I learned from a very skilled nurse who took my blood once. Don’t underestimate that power.

9. Chant a mantra. An example of an inappropriate mantra would be “stop now or you’re going to die!” which is what I said over to myself in my head for the first week. Yeah--surprisingly, it didn’t help. If you can’t do anything else, just concentrate on one step at a time. And I don’t mean that in a figurative sense--that’s completely literal. Just tell yourself, “one more step” every time your shoe hits the pavement, and soon you’ll find you’re done before you know it. Or . . . sometimes it drags on forever, but it’s really worth it, so just keep going. Sooner or later, it WILL go by faster than you think. Another mantra I used was “it’s supposed to hurt.” You’d think that would be depressing, like watching Hope Floats when you get dumped, which is equally contradictory, but somehow it always made me feel better. Find a mantra that works, and chant it.

10. Running hurts--you just have to get used to it. It really is supposed to, so don’t try to make it into the same kind of enjoyment you derive from sitting in front of the telly with a bag of potato chips. It’s not going to happen. If you’re going to get anywhere, you are going to have to push yourself. Pushing yourself hurts--take it from someone who really, really enjoys sitting in front of the tube with an array of snack foods. Running can be fun, but it’s a whole different kind of enjoyment. But nonetheless, it IS enjoyment, so don’t give up, the zone will come and find you. (Folks, it’s REAL, cross my heart.)

Honestly, the thing that has kept me going is that zone. And the days I can’t find it, the promise of it keeps me going. I can still remember that first morning, when suddenly I could hold my head up and breathe again, my feet drumming against the road at a steady rhythm. My legs seemed to go on autopilot, and I felt like I could just kick back for the remainder of the flight, an energy boost going off like a nitro injection. As a longtime disbeliever, I was seriously in shock to find out that the zone is in fact real. Not only that it’s real, but that it even works for people like me, people who “aren’t runners,” people who don’t take naturally to chasing after invisible targets. When I say you can get there, I mean the most unlikely candidates--including yours truly. So, get out there and hit the streets! You won’t be sorry you did.

And, just for your listening pleasure, I’ve included my running playlist here. Enjoy!

[Why yes, that is a picture of me . . . but how did you know?]
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To the Silver Screen

July 20, 2009

If you’ve never had the pleasure to check out the Weekly Geeks, this is a good time to start. With the opening of the sixth Harry Potter extravaganza, this week's challenge is to discuss some of the best movie adaptations of beloved books. This is definitely a topic I can get into. I love watching movies just a little bit less than I love reading books. Although a horrid Hollywood massacre of a screenplay can do a lot of damage (and has many, many times), I always try to keep the faith because the idea of transferring an amazing story into performance art is the stuff dreams are made of. Honest-to-goodness; when it's done right, of course. So, here I pay homage to Hollywood, for getting it right and making these stories come to life.

rebecca
Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

I’ve already talked about this book in a previous WG post, but I’m adding it in again here because I am truly in love with it. And the movie, although black and white and although, granted, old, is so amazingly good. An older, rich gentleman, who has recently become a widower, meets and marries a beautiful, young girl. He and his new Mrs. de Winter move into his sprawling estate, Manderley, on the shore. And that’s when things start to go eerily awry. They couldn’t have picked better actors for these roles, and I actually refuse to watch any other adaptation. Honestly, I shouldn’t have been surprised, as it’s a Hitchcock—master of suspense. I first saw this movie in my senior year of high school, and to this day I cannot remember what excuse my teacher used to show it. After the first class period, I was completely hooked. I couldn’t wait to get to English to see the next installment. Trust me, don’t let the age scare you away, this movie is awesome. (And that goes for men, too! So strap your man down, he won’t be sorry.)
Watch a clip here.

wuthering heights
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

I’ve also already blogged about my deep and abiding love for Miss Emily and her Gothic novel. There are a lot of adaptations of this baby out there, but this one by far takes the cake. If you want to see Healthcliff and Catherine in all their glory, don’t settle for anything less than this ’92 version. Ralph Feinnes is the perfect fiend, and they even stuck the author in as a narrator in the beginning and end, which could have been total kitsch, but it came out great.
Watch the trailer here.

hamlet
Hamlet by William Shakespeare

Now, this one doesn’t actually count because Hamlet is a play, and is therefore meant to be performed, not read. But, I decided to include it because I really love this rendition. When it comes to Shakespeare movies, you can never go wrong with Kenneth Branaugh, and out of his collection of masterpieces, this one is exceptionally good. A second favorite stars Mel Gibson, Glenn Close, and Helena Bonham Carter, which is must shorter.
Watch the trailer here.

mockingbird
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

This is another older black and white, but again, so worth the time. I first read this book, like most of America, in the ninth grade and fell in love with it immediately. I’d say this is one of the best film adaptations of all time. Gregory Peck gives a stirring performance as composed public defender Atticus Finch. So relevant, so heart-breaking, and enduringly timeless.
Watch the trailer here.

pride & prejudice
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I know this one sort of goes without saying, but I couldn’t leave it out simply because it felt like stating the obvious. There are about as many adaptations of P&P as there are people in India, so it’s good to narrow down the field. With most films, there’s quite a bit hacking up of the novel in order to make it fit the cut-to-the-action type of viewing experience that we all expect from the big screen. And I’ll be honest, that’s what I want most of the time from my book-to-screen adaptations because it’s very difficult to produce something worth sitting through hours on end without making it boring or stiff or unrealistic. However, such is not the case with this six-hour version of Jane Austen’s classic. Somehow they managed to make it work. Hats off to you BBC, I salute you. If you haven’t had a chance to watch it, make time—it will be worth your while.
Watch a clip here.

If you really look into the birth of a screenplay, you’d be surprised how many actually come from bestselling books. At least, I was. A ton of chick flicks are born this way, Confessions of a Shopaholic, The Devil Wears Prada, and The Nanny Diaries to name just a few. Really, it makes perfect sense: the best movies come from the best stories, and the best stories come from the best books. So, here are a few of my favorites that I’ve later learned were adapted from books, which have now made it into my must read pile.

about a boy
About a Boy by Nick Hornby

When a person asks me what my favorite movie is, this is always my reply. This. Movie. Is. Awesome. I can’t actually put my finger on what it is I love so much about it, I just do. It’s a story of a man who lives alone and likes it that way. His superficiality is like a badge he wears with pride. A series of events leads him to come in contact with a strange, slightly troubled, twelve-year-old boy, and that’s where the magic begins.
Watch the trailer here.

painted veil
The Painted Veil by W. Somerset Maugham

I saw this movie on an extremely long airplane ride from L.A. to Brisbane, Australia. I had just finished a forgettable, slapstick comedy, and I was bored, bored, bored, when I came across The Painted Veil. I’d never heard of it, so my expectations were really low, and I was just blown away. It’s about a young woman who finds herself in a marriage with a man she barely knows, who she feels is holding her back from the adventure she craves. When her husband takes her to the Far East to fight a cholera epidemic, she learns the true meaning of the word.
Watch the trailer here.

pajamas
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne

DH and I recently rented this film. I’ve seen so many WWII movies, I wasn’t particularly interested in it, but the preview was so enticing, I decided to give it a try. It’s not often that you can take a topic so reworked and find a new perspective. This movie does that so simply, I was left speechless. It’s about a German boy, Bruno, whose family moves near to a concentration camp because his father is an officer in the German army. There’s no one to play with in this secluded area, so Bruno goes in search of a playmate, and finds one—just beyond a fence.
Watch the trailer here.

namesake
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

This is another movie DH and I just picked up on the fly. I’d never heard of it or seen a preview, but nothing else looked promising. Afterwards, I was so intrigued by the story that I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks. It starts out with an Indian man who immigrates to America to study. He goes back to India to marry and brings his wife to his new home. They have two children; the oldest is a boy, Gogol, named after an author who meant something to his father. As Gogol grows up, he tries to balance his American life with his Indian heritage. A spectacular coming of age story.
Watch the trailer here.

So, there you have it! I hope I've inspired you to see one of these films or read one of these books. Happy watching/reading!
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Lessons from a Teenager

July 17, 2009

Yesterday, a young kid from California, Zac Sunderland, became the youngest person ever to circumnavigate the globe—by himself. How old was he, you ask? Seventeen. He started out at sixteen and celebrated his birthday about halfway through. He bought a well-used 36-foot sailboat for 6 grand, and, with some help, set it up with equipment to become a world-wide sea voyaging vessel. He set off in June last year, and after 13 months at sea, he returned to California to set a record. That’s quite the curfew if you ask me. I can just hear his parents now, “Bye, honey! Make sure you are back before 14 months! And don’t forget to pick me up some mahi mahi at one of those islands you dock at!”

GizaraArts.com

To be honest, the thing that impressed me the most was his demeanor (via the radio) as he was being interviewed. He sounded—well, grown up. He sounded self-assured and confident. Not at all what I would expect from a teenage boy—heck, not even what I can expect from myself! This is what really got me. I mean, yeah, this accomplishment is something really amazing. An article I read said that over 300 people a year climb Everest, while fewer than 250 have ever sailed the earth solo. But, I want to know where this boy got his drive, his confidence, his can-do attitude. What kind of a person strives for something this incredible at such a young age? At his age, I was much more worried about how my hair looked or what I was doing on the weekend than I ever was about my future or my “life goals.”
"I think society puts young people in a box—people 15, 16, 17—and does not expect them to do much but go to high school and play football and stuff like that," Sunderland said. "This just shows they can do a lot more with some strong ambition and desire. My [advice] is to get out there and do your thing with all you got."
map
Click here to see photos of Zac's trip.

Now that I’m older and have gotten out of the teenage “box,” so to speak, I have that mental list of the things that I’d like to accomplish with my life. But what’s really remarkable, is that even now, many years later, I don’t think I could muster the kind of courage that comes so naturally to Zac. Maybe it’s the hubris of the young, but I think it’s more than that. It’s got to be that he’s already learned an important life lesson. Fear debilitates, and if you can get over that, you’re already halfway there.

And there he was, the product of that philosophy. Calm, cool, and collected, making his way into the San Diego harbor, having accomplished something so completely beyond my comprehension.

As I was tossing Zac’s story around in head, feeling like a coward, it reminded me of a talk I heard once. In this talk, the guy referenced the book Who Moved My Cheese? The way he described it made me want to take a look, although I’ve never done it. He asked this same intriguing question: What would you do if you weren’t afraid? How would your life change?

There are so many things in life to be afraid of. And the list broadens with every year that I get older. I am one of those nervous/planner types, and I “what if” myself to death sometimes. I can’t even look at DH sometimes in our conversations, because I’m even bothering myself with my endless questions and worries. As I think about my own neurotic nature, to envision what my life could be like without the plague of nervous fear, it seems like paradise.

Not that living your life this way doesn’t take a lot of preparation, planning, and time—certainly it does. But, it just cuts out all the extra time and energy it takes to worry and stress and lose sleep, so that you can use those resources to act. Mmm . . . that word tastes like chocolate on my tongue.

When the cheese moves, go after it. It won’t do you any good to sit and stew and make yourself miserable. As Zac says, “Do your thing with all you got.” Whether that’s sailing around the world or learning how to make a killer lasagna, stop hanging your head and go for it! Don’t stress over it! Banish your fears! Meet the world head on!

But that really is a scary thing. We had an enrichment activity once on stress management. A woman who worked in the stress lab at BYU came out to talk to us. Usually, I am rather unimpressed with these workshops. I mean, it’s all good information, but not anything that I haven’t heard before. (Go to your special place when you are angry. Take deep, cleansing breaths. Relax your body. Count to ten. And, so forth.) But this lady was different. She was giving us the same advice, but somehow she made it seem so real, like it could actually work. Her manner of standing, her gestures, even the tone of her voice all exuded an inner tranquility that, I’m sorry to say, I have never experienced before. I left wishing I could take her home and just have her talk in my ear all the time. Her voice seemed to cool the jets of my anxious personality so I could think straight—so I could live my life without fear.

So here’s to hoping I can take a lesson from a 17 year old and live more like an invincible teenager and less like a nervous Nelly.

Articles: Chicago Tribune, LA Times, NPR interview, Zac Sunderland's website
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Are You Sure?

July 9, 2009

I ask this question a lot. Really a lot. It bothers the people I love. It usually comes out of my mouth after someone else has locked a door of some kind: front door, garage door, car door. I'll ask whether it's locked, DH will reply in the affirmative, and, since it's important to me to be certain he heard me right, I'll say "Are you sure?" Then he gives me this blank stare with his eyebrows raised as if to say, DIDN'T I JUST BARELY TELL YOU "YES"?! I don't blame him for his frustration. I frustrate myself with it, honestly: this door-locking obsession borders on neurosis, I'm aware. (Bordering? Ok, it is neurotic, I admit it.) But I can't help myself! It's so important to me to be assured and then RE-assured that something is truly fact--like my front door being completely and totally fortified against those who lurk in dark corners. I couldn't help thinking about that little characteristic of mine as DH and I watched this movie recently:

Before I get any further, let me just say: Meryl Streep is really good in it. Can I say that again? Meryl Streep is really good in this film. She is such an amazing actress; I’ve yet to see a film she’s been in that she hasn’t owned from start to finish. Her portrayal of Sister Aloysius is no exception. Just look at her . . . I’m already terrified of her, before I’ve even seen one second of footage.

The movie was actually adapted from a Pulitzer Prize winning play by John Patrick Shanley. It’s set in the early 60s in a Catholic school in the Bronx, run by a team of nuns. The principal, Sister Aloysius, stands in competition with a priest, Father Flynn. Sister Aloysius is a stern, traditional type, who doesn’t take any crap, while Father Flynn is the “people’s” leader. He wants to be one of the crowd, the school children’s best friend, and connector to the community. He wants to modernize the school and the church, while she likes to rule “by the book.” This introduces the conflict, and then something happens . . . or doesn’t happen. We’re not quite sure. It’s sort of quicksand, the more you try to move toward the truth, the faster you sink—away from any resolution.
It’s frustrating not to know the truth. It’s frustrating to have to try and trust someone else’s judgment, and I find that I am too easily persuaded most of the time. Is it naivety? Perhaps. It was so infuriating because it seemed like the problem could be easily solved, if I could just rewind time and be a little fly on the wall—I could report the truth. Or could I?

I remember learning in my high school psychology class about the flexibility and inconsistency of the memory. I’m sure there were certain terms for the things I’m about to describe, but unfortunately, I can’t remember them (memory=fallible: case in point). We talked about an instance where there was a car accident with several witnesses. Having so many people to recreate the event should make it easier to come up with what really took place; however, this was not the case. One witness saw a driver signal, another witness said there was no such signal. One witness said the other driver tried to swerve, another said the driver deliberately barreled through the intersection. One witness said there was only the sound of busting glass, another said there was a scream and a shatter, and still another remembers only a honking horn. And the list of inconsistencies goes on and on.

Then we learned something even more disturbing, that memories can be shaped over time. You may remember an instance a certain way one year after it’s occurred and then another way five years after that, depending on what happens in your life, how people talk with you about the event, and many, many other factors. There are so many things I remember about my childhood, sometimes it makes me stop and wonder which things really happened the way I remember them, and which have been somehow changed by time and circumstance in my own mind.

I was listening to one of my favorite radio shows (This American Life) the other day and heard a story that perfectly illustrates this point. It was a broadcast about origin stories. (The one I’m talking about is Act I: Mad Man, which comes after a short introduction, if you’d like to hear it. Click on this link, and then click on the orange icon where it says “Full Episode.” Let it download, and then the story begins at minute 8:47.) In this section of the show, a girl tells the story of her father’s advertising career—and how his former partner succeeds in getting the credit for most of his important contributions to that field. Somehow this man has convinced himself that he in fact was the inspiration behind another person’s ads, even to go so far as to create little anecdotes to go along with how he came up with these innovative advertizing ideas. Is he really deluded or is he just an evil, conniving, credit-swiping dirtbag? You be the judge.

So, if it’s difficult to pin down the truth of a matter even if you see it with your own eyes, hear with your own ears, and experience it firsthand, how can you expect to find it without those things? It seems impossible. The doubt begins to creep up, and the waffling begins: back and forth, back and forth, irritating, like the squeak of a see-saw.

I suppose that’s just the nature of things. With our five senses, we go through that cycle of experiencing something and then interpreting that experience over and over again. And out of those interpretations spring conclusions, beliefs, certainties. We can’t help it; it happens unconsciously most of the time. Right now, you’re forming opinions about the kind of person I am just by reading this sentence. Somewhat akin to another great play, Twelve Angry Men by Reginald Rose (rent the '57 version with Henry Fonda).

I watched an interview with Shanley on the web, and he said that he gets tons of emails, people pleading for him to announce who was right: Sister Aloysius or Father Flynn. He said he will never tell. That to give that vital piece of information away would be to rob you of the very experience you want to have as a spectator. The last act of the play, he explained, actually takes place outside of the theater, in the living room or around the kitchen table as people debate this issue. As people explore their doubts. And it’s true. That’s exactly what the DH and I did, and guess what—we couldn’t agree on what really happened. But at the same time, neither one of us could really be sure. Isn’t that something?
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