Monday, August 11, 2014

The cure for depression


 The Cure for Depression

(or: “Can’t you just. . . ?”)







NOTE. Whenever mental illness pushes its way to the public forefront, a thing we all seem to want to shove back as hard as possible, for one brief shining moment people have all sorts of good intentions about being sensitive, being compassionate, listening, etc. I am here to tell you that it is ALL BULLSHIT and that practically NO ONE practices any of it. Instead, the depressed person is bossed around, due to the non-depressed person's primal terror of their friend's perceived weakness and loss of control. When Robin Williams destroyed himself, I saw things on Facebook that made me want to howl: "Oh well, he was just a whack job anyway. It was only a matter of time." Our free use of terms like "nut job" and "whacko" reveal the horror and contempt we feel for anyone suffering from ANY form of mental illness.(At the same time, we mouth certain pre-recorded words such as, "We need to reduce the stigma around mental illness.") As with the Black Plague, we fear contagion. We'd rather put these people in the stocks in the public square and throw rotten apples at them. But since that is "uncivilized", instead we tell them "helpful" things like the following - and it is, of course, all for their own good.



“It’s all in your mind.”

“You just need to give yourself a good swift kick in the rear.”

“No one ever said life was fair.”


“I think you enjoy wallowing in it."

"Depression is a choice, you know."


“Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.”


“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”





"There are a lot of people worse off than you.”


“But it’s a beautiful day!”


“You have so many things to be thankful for!”


“You just want attention.”


“Happiness is a choice, you know.”

"Just read this book. It'll fix you right up."


“Everything happens for a reason.”





“There is always somebody worse off than you are.”


“You should get off all those pills.”


“You are what you think you are.”


“Cheer up!”

“Have you been praying/reading your Bible?”

"People who meditate don't get depressed."


“You need to get out more.”






"Don't you have a sense of humour?"


“Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.”


“Get a job!”


“Smile and the world smiles with you, cry and you cry alone.”

"Just read this book. It'll fix you right up."


“But you don’t look depressed. You seem fine to me.”


“You can do anything you want if you just set your mind to it.”








“Snap out of it, will you? You  have no reason to feel this way.”


“I wish I had the luxury of being depressed.”


“That which does not kill us makes us stronger.”

"Just read this book. It'll fix you right up."

"Do you want your family to suffer along with you?"


“Can't you at least make an effort?"







“Believe me, I know exactly how you feel. I was depressed once for several 

days.”


“Turn it over to your Higher Power.”


“I think your depression is a way of punishing us.”


“So, you’re depressed. Aren’t you always?”


“You’re always so negative! Look on the bright side.”



“What you need is some real tragedy in your life to give you perspective.”


“You’re a writer, aren’t you? Just think of all the good material you’re getting 

out of this.”


“Have you tried camomile tea?”

"I TOLD you to read that book."





“Go out and help someone who is worse off than you and you won’t have time

 to brood.”


“You have to take up your bed and carry on.”

“Well, we all have our crosses to bear.”

"I was depressed until I tried yoga."


“You don’t like feeling that way? Change it!"


Robin, we hardly knew you



Suicide a risk even for beloved characters like Williams


That a "universally beloved" entertainer like Robin WIlliams could commit suicide "speaks to the power of psychiatric illness," mental health experts say.
Robin Williams, who died Monday at age 63, had some of the risk factors for suicide: He was known to have bipolar disorder, depression and drug abuse problems, said Julie Cerel, a psychologist and board chair of American Association of Suicidology.
People who are severely depressed can't see past their failures, even if they've been as successful as Williams.
"With depression, people just forget," said Cerel, also an associate professor at the University of Kentucky. "They get so consumed by the depression and by the feelings of not being worthy that they forget all the wonderful things in their lives."
They feel like a burden on their family and that the world would be better off without them.
"Having depression and being in a suicidal state twists reality. It doesn't matter if someone has a wife or is well loved," Cerel said.
Williams was certainly beloved, as shown by the outpouring of grief and sympathy on social media outlets last night.
Ken Duckworth, medical director of the National Alliance on Mental Illness, agrees the impact is "shocking" when it involves a "universally loved character" like WIlliams.
He caught the news while watching TV with his children. "They all said, 'Nooo, not Robin Williams.'" It's hard to hear that successful people like Williams, who was a genius of comedy, could also have this vulnerability, Duckworth said. "You'd like to think they're immune from the heartache and suffering of mental illness and that isn't true."
"It speaks to the need for better treatments and the need for society to be more welcoming to people who have these conditions," he said.
About 90% of people who commit suicide have some kind of psychiatric illness that's typically untreated or "undertreated," he said.
Cerel said the impact of suicide ripples far beyond immediate family members.
"Friends, people in our social network, even when it's people on TV, it really affects us all," she said. "Even though most of us don't know him directly, he's someone who's entertained us, and (his death) will have an effect on us and will make us think of others who've died."
The fact that someone as successful as Williams could kill himself shows that suicide is "not about objective markers of happiness and success," said Dost Ongur, an associate professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School and chief of the psychotic disorders division at McLean Hospital outside of Boston.
The deep psychic pain that drove Williams to suicide, "must have been part of his experience all along," Ongur said. "It was part and parcel of his gregarious, funny, so intelligent, so special outward persona – but on the inside it seems like it wasn't always happiness."
In addition to previous problems with mental illness, Williams was also in a demographic that is particularly vulnerable to suicide, Ongur said.
White, middle-aged men with medical problems are at the highest risk for suicide, he said. It's not entirely clear why that is, but Ongur said "this idea of control and virility and being able to deal with the world in a certain way – as that starts to slip away, there's often a sense of loss of control and threat to one's manhood, and that seems to be associated with higher rates of suicide."
Although depression can last for years, suicidal thinking is "a temporary state of mind and it will pass," Ongur said. If someone is deterred from a suicide attempt, they are likely to get over their urge to kill themselves, he said, so it is crucial that people who are suicidal get help.
Advocates for people with mental illness say they hope Williams' death will motivate more people to get help for depression, and spur the USA to treat suicide as a public health crisis. Suicide claims more than 38,000 American lives each year -- more than the number killed by car accidents, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention -- and the rate hasn't budged in decades, says Jeffrey Lieberman, professor and chairman of psychiatry at New York's Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons
"We know what to do to prevent suicide," Liebeman says. "We just don't do it."
Williams could put a human face on a problem that often gets little attention, Lieberman says.
"He was such a charismatic and beloved figure, that if his death can galvanize our society to act instead of just grieve, it will be a fitting memorial to him."

Surprising lies: who buys them?


 
























Surprising Reading Facts (Infographic)

by Robb Brewer, pastor, Gateway Churh

UPDATE:

An infographic I posted a several months ago has produced much interest. Several websites used the graphic on their own pages which has caused large numbers of people to blow up my email wondering about my statistical sources.

First, I created the graphic because I’m a book lover and wanted to express my passion for reading through a different method. While I’m well-versed in research methodologies, my goal wasn’t–and still isn’t–to produce a quantitative, peer-reviewed product. I simply wanted to illustrate reading importance.
Second, I was curious to know if I could create an interesting graphic. I’ll just assume I found the answer to that one.


                                                                     
  Rev. Robb Brewer


Here’s what I’ve discovered about the source on the original graphic:

According to a Jenkins Group Facebook post in 2011, the reading statistics are incorrectly attributed to the Jenkins Group. Apparently Jerrold Jenkins, owner and founder of the Jenkins Group, presented the observations to a group of small publishers using data from the Book Industry Study Group, American Book Sellers Institute, and US News and World

Report. https://www.facebook.com/jenkinsgroup/posts/10151053968015564
A New York fundraiser who hosts a reading blog contacted the Jenkins Group to ask about their study. She discovered the company distances itself from the statistics; while they admit their owner, Jerrold Jenkins, presented the material, they never actually published the report. http://www.libereading.com/2012/04/in-which-i-execute-some-hard-hitting.html

I think it’s safe to say the stats from the original graphic are questionable, and I am therefore recanting any and all connection to them.

At the same time, I still believe in the absolute viability of reading and it’s ability to radically impact a person’s life. In an age where our smartphones will read aloud to us, we risk watering down this life-changing skill. So here’s a new graphic. The stats aren’t as juicy, but it still supports my original point: reading is important.




   Rev. Robb Brewer's new, "less juicy" graphic


By the way, I'm not changing the last box from the original graphic. I like Earl Nightingale's thought. It's not research-based, but it makes me feel good--just like reading.



                         
                         Elmer Gantry, con-man, seducer, and salesman for the Lord



http://www.robertbrewer.org/disciple/surprising-book-facts-infographic/


Read this carefully, and you'll discover how total crap can be presented - nay, ACCEPTED - as fact.

I've seen and heard people quote these "statistics" (from the original, non-backpedalling/shit-eating version) many times, and not one person questioned their veracity. Mostly they seem to feel outrage, blaming internet culture and the school system. But could there be more to this thing? How could there NOT be, when the so-called stats are so ridiculous?

Then I noticed the tiny lettering at the bottom of the graphic:  Robert Brewer, a name that immediately made me wonder: who is this guy, and could these unbelievable statistics be true?

The answer is no.





In a blog post (see link, above), Pastor Brewer admits that he "created" this graphic to impress people about the problem of illiteracy. He admits he did not concern himself with accuracy: "While I’m well-versed in research methodologies, my goal wasn’t–and still isn’t–to produce a quantitative, peer-reviewed product. I simply wanted to illustrate reading importance." But not only are the stats completely bogus, and not only did he KNOW they were bogus, he would not admit to being the source, nor would he take responsibility for passing on known distortions and lies. In fact, he quickly passes the blame to someone else. 





Perhaps feeling the heat from a few nitpicking killjoys, Brewer begins to buck-pass to a mysterious association called the Jenkins Group, who also quickly deny they knew anything about the "statistics". It all started with one guy, apparently, and they sure aren't going to support HIM any more (even though his name is Jenkins and he owns the group). It finally ends with this astonishing statement: "I think it’s safe to say the stats from the original graphic are questionable, and I am therefore recanting any and all connection to them."  Like Pontius Pilate, when the heat is on, Reverend Brewer very hastily washes his hands. 



                              

Meanwhile, his Surprising Book Facts (a. k. a. Surprising Reading Facts - how come they changed the title, anyway?) is now world-famous, still widely quoted in schools, and discussed over coffee in offices everywhere, often with gasps and groans: "oh, look at THIS," "I can't believe this," "what has our school system come to?" etc. etc., while not ONE person takes the time to see if any of it is valid. The final conclusion about "becoming an international expert in seven years" is an especial favorite, a real crowd-pleaser with its inspirational message of hope. ("Gee, do you think it's really true?" "Well, I guess it MUST be.")

Why are people buying this? Why is ANYBODY buying it? It's written down, that's why. It's on the internet. It's in a neat-looking graphic with nice colors, eye-catching. In some cases people are actually quite offended if you try to debunk it, maybe out of pride: they can't or won't acknowledge they fell for this swill. What's the matter with you, are you cynical about everything now? Don't be so negative!





Brewer seems to think it's all to the good, justifying his deception by claiming it gets the discussion going about the general illiteracy of our culture. My favorite line is the little kicker at the end: "By the way, I'm not changing the last box from the original graphic. I like Earl Nightingale's thought. It's not research-based, but it makes me feel good--just like reading." Note how it's suddenly "Earl Nightingale's thought", not his. Brewer must have gone to the Jim Bakker School of Evasive Whitewashing, like all these assholes do.  But is making yourself feel good sufficient grounds for pushing fabricated "statistics" on an absurdly gullible public?

You decide.




A few late-blooming thoughts:

I just saw another blog where a young woman claimed to have "cracked" this complex mystery with some "hard-hitting investigative journalism". I'm not sure what she meant by that, because this thing is so transparent that all you have to do is read the guy's name at the bottom of the original infographic and google it. The info I needed came up in seconds. Not so hard-hitting, not so investigative, unless that's what passes for investigation now. By the way, Rev. Brewer's name was never mentioned in her post. She had, at best, a very superficial knowledge of the Jenkins Group and their association with the "infographic". She also claimed that, while the statistics may have been valid ten years ago when the graphic was originally designed, it was probably somewhat out of date now. What can I say - she's too nice to investigate anything.

Kicker to the kicker: spot the sloppy writing!:

"At the same time, I still believe in the absolute viability of reading and it’s ability to radically impact a person’s life."

This is all about literacy, is it not? Is it not about taking care with language and learning to write with a modicum of proficiency, especially when (literally) PREACHING to us all about literacy, presuming you are here to straighten us all out? This is making me so angry I have to get away from it before I kill someone. To the world, I want to say, WISE UP. IT AIN'T THAT HARD.



Order The Glass Character from:

Thistledown Press 

Amazon.com

Chapters/Indigo.ca

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Stravinsky: Pulcinella (complete)




Pulcinella is a ballet by Igor Stravinsky based on an 18th-century play—Pulcinella is a character originating from Commedia dell'arte. The ballet premiered at the Paris Opera on 15 May 1920 under the baton of Ernest Ansermet. The dancer Léonide Massine created both the libretto and choreography, and Pablo Picasso designed the original costumes and sets. It was commissioned by Sergei Diaghilev.

OK, enough Wikipedia (and I only use it because I'm too lazy to put it in my own words). This video is hardly the ideal Pulcinella, but the ideal Pulcinella may exist only in my own mind. It was one of the recordings I grew up with, and we played the spots off it, mainly because my father was on a Stravinsky kick and wanted to hear everything he ever wrote. I remember the music vividly, but not the conductor, the orchestra or the record label (else I might be able to track down a reissue).




As a kid, I suppose I knew a little bit about the ballet, something about clowns jumping around in those white outfits they wear in Europe, but of course I had never seen it. I still haven't seen it. I've never even heard a live performance of the whole work, only the ubiquitous suite. But always I had an echo in my brain of that first recording. I own five Pulcinellas now, and I don't listen to any of them because that first one spoiled me for anything else.

Why? The voices. The three singers, tenor, baritone and mezzo-soprano, are the spirit of the piece, and all too often they sound wooden, as if they just don't get it and are only singing the notes. The piece has to be conducted with a certain irony and even satire, a sour edge contrasting with lamb-gambolling sweetness. The music is often at odds with the odd-sounding words, which in fact have nothing to do with Pulcinella and the commedia dell'arte. The words are more like medieval sonnets about thwarted love. And yet they are splashed against this odd rococo backdrop, this motley set painted by Picasso.

There were a few Pulcinellas on YouTube, and a while ago I tried to find a good one. There is a rare performance of the ballet, but it's chopped up into 10-minute pieces. A more complete one exists, but someone has recorded it with atrocious sound distortion, as if they didn't even notice the music. What is the matter with people today??? I doubt if I will ever find the perfect combination, and besides, all those clowns jumping around is distracting when I would rather concentrate on the melancholy sweetness of the music.






Anyway, it took a hell of a long time to find a translation of the Italian words, and it wasn't on the internet either, but on a set of CD liner notes, with type so small you had to take a magnifiying glass to it. It had the Italian on one side and the English on the other, like a menu.(I once bought Coles notes for a Chaucer class, and it was the same deal) I had to transcribe the words line by line, and it took a while. I thought I posted something about it already, after all that work, but I can't find it. If this is repetitious, please forgive me.

Since I decided against the ballet version, which in fact was pretty silly, I had to make a few (gulp) gifs to fill the gap. I was trying to get something across which, as usual, I didn't quite. When you look up pulcinella, you get punchinello, a nasty little creature in a Milky the Clown-style puffy white suit, a conical hat and a nasty bird-beak. He's menacing, is what he is. He'd scare little children. But wasn't the commedia the thing that brought us Punch and Judy? Maybe they called it something else back then.






Pulcinella  
by Igor Stravinsky

(Tenor)

While on the grass
the lamb grazes
alone, alone
the shepherdess
amid the green leaves
through the forest
goes singing.

(Soprano)

Content perhaps to live
In my torment I might be
If I ever could believe
That, still far away, you were
Faithful to my love,
Faithful to this heart.

(Bass)

With these little words
So sweet
You rend my heart
To the depths.
Fair one, stay here,
Since if you say more
I must die.
With such sweet
Little words
You rend my heart
I shall die, I shall die.




(Soprano, tenor, bass)

I hear say there is no peace
I hear say there is no heart,
For you, ah, no, never,
There is no peace for you.

(Tenor)

Whoever says that a woman
Is more cunning than the Devil
Tells the truth.

(Soprano, tenor)

There are some women
Who care for none
And keep a hundred on a leash,
A shabby trick,
And have so many wiles
That none can count them.

One pretends to be innocent
And is cunning,
Another seems all modesty
Yet seeks a husband.
One clings to a man
And has so many wiles
That none can count them,
None can number them.




(Tenor)

One pretends to be innocent
And is, and is cunning
Another seems all modesty
Yet seeks a husband,
There are some
Who care, listen, for none.
Who cling to a man
And who flirt with another
And have a hundred on a leash
A shabby trick,
And have so many wiles
That none can count them.




(Soprano)

If you love me, if you sigh
For me alone, gentle shepherd,
I have pain in your suffering,
I have pleasure in your love,
But if you think that you alone
I should love in return,
Shepherd, you are easily
To be deceived.
A fair red rose
Today Silvia picks,
But pleading its thorn
Tomorrow she spurns it.
But the plans of men
I will not follow.
Because the lily pleases me,
I will not spurn other flowers.

(Soprano, tenor, bass)

Sweet eyes, bright with love,
For you my heart languishes.





Friday, August 8, 2014

Oh death oh death




Tonight I watched a movie called Songcatcher for the third time. Saw it originally in the theatre - can't believe it was 14 years ago. Those years are as dust now. I loved it, wept through it that first time.  It's about a woman professor, circa maybe 1910, who turns her back on the ungrateful world of academe in search of authentic folk music. This compels her to go crashing through the backwoods of the Appalachians with notation paper and a gramophone.

Any story that has ancient recording devices in it automatically fascinates me. But Lily's personal evolution from prim academic to fire-breathing zealot is also crucial. The second time I watched it, I was a bit bogged down in  Hollywoodisms, the Deliverance-style backwoods "types", the two guys with the still and the shotgun, Granny on the porch, etc. And those do occur. But what also does occur is music that makes the spine freeze and the hair stand up on your arms, if not your whole body. It has that plaintive, almost howling quality, with the little uptick at the end of a phrase. Harmonies that are close and tight and somehow must go back a long way, because they're very much like the harmonies in the hymns sung by the Mennonites, Hutterites and Amish. 





The film glosses over the existence of the Child Ballads of the 1850s, a massive collection of folk songs from the British Isles which were also known to exist in remote areas of the United States. Lily's discovery is presented as not only completely original, but brazenly ignored by academics. The Child Ballads, so-named after the collector of the lyrics, cover some heavy ground:

Child Ballads are generally heavier and darker than is usual for ballads. Some of the topics and other features characteristic enough of Child Ballads to be considered Child Ballad motifs are these: romance, enchantment, devotion, determination, obsession, jealousy, forbidden love, insanity, hallucination, uncertainty of one's sanity, the ease with which the truth can be suppressed temporarily, supernatural experiences, supernatural deeds, half-human creatures, teenagers, family strife, the boldness of outlaws, abuse of authority, betting, lust, death, karma, punishment, sin, morality, vanity, folly, dignity, nobility, honor, loyalty, dishonor, riddles, historical events, omens, fate, trust, shock, deception, disguise, treachery, disappointment, revenge, violence, murder, cruelty, combat, courage, escape, exile, rescue, forgiveness, being tested, human weaknesses, and folk heroes.




That just about does it. Thank you, Wikipedia.

I looked at a number of clips before choosing this one. It takes place after a primal, almost primitive gathering of the community, and after all the jug-hoisting and boisterous stomping dies down, things go very quiet. Then a darker and more horrible story is told in song, passed from person to person, while Lily stares transfixed.

From what I gather, the makers of this film strove for as much accuracy as possible in the presentation of the songs. If they initially stuck to more familiar numbers like Barbry Allen, it was probably so the audience had something to grab hold of: "Oh, I know that song!" But as the story wears on, ballads stubbornly passed forward for centuries grab us with their macabre tales. The voices sound rough-edged and authentic, and by the sound of them, It's possible these songs are still being handed down.

I like this clip because it's technically not very good, captured right off a TV screen, and thus is surreal in quality, glowing and soft-edged. It traces the air like a flame. The scene where Lily becomes panicked by the screeching of a mountain lion in the woods, following a mountain survival strategy by tearing her clothes off to placate the beast, carries on the rawness and sense of exposure created by the songs. There is no corset that will keep you safe from the devil. If the scene smacks of "let's throw a little sex into the mix", it still works, because to this point Lily has been a simmering volcano, not so prim as she may outwardly appear.





I have a question. When DID these songs start? A song can't come out of nothing. It's not there, and then it's there. I know a bit about the "there" of the creative process, and what happens is that a tiny light comes on. A flash. A little white explosion. Then there is an idea born. From there it must be developed, of course, given its life. But as much as we may think a song like Oh Death has "always" been there, it has not. Someone had to start it, just like someone had to start the Bible. Start language. And in the same freight-train of thought, what was the first word? I know it's a nonsensical question because language developed in so many different parts of the world, in different ways and at different times. We now know there were a vast number of different proto-human creatures living on earth at the same time, borning and dying, evolving, overlapping each other before being absorbed or going extinct.





But let me go back to my  original question. What were the first things humanity felt compelled to name? Did they name themselves and each other first? Did language have to do with the hunt, as testiculo-centric anthropologists have always claimed? So how is it women evolved to sit around yakking about their kids in Starbuck's? Was it just a bunch of grunts and gestures at first, or - no, it had to be more.

I think it was Noam Chomsky, or Chumleigh the Walrus from Tennessee Tuxedo (could have been either one) who said there is really only one language. There are core rules, structure that prevents it all from becoming just strings of words, or gibberish. Underneath it all, ideas, needs are being expressed, things we all experience as humans. No one sat down and "made" language, any language, and yet we have all somehow contributed, if only with our own boring and unremarkable way of using it.





So there wasn't language, then there was. There were no songs - maybe chants around the fire with no words, but at some point there was an immense thunderclap and the two were married forever.

I love the starkness of this song about death, its terror of everlasting judgement and eternal hell. Cheers me up, in a way. I love how Lily's face shimmers and burns, how her enormous eyes stare in a kind of awful rapture. I have a horrible urge to make gifs - stop me, someone! But I can't make a silent movie out of this.




(Should I try to find a clip of what happens AFTER the wildcat-fleeing scene?)




Going over Jordan




"Poor Wayfaring Stranger"


I am a poor wayfaring stranger
Travelling through this world of woe
But there's no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go 

Well I'm going there
To meet my mother
Said she'd meet me when I come
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home 

I know dark clouds
Will gather 'round me 
I know my way
Will be rough and steep
But beautiful fields lie just before me
Where God's redeemed
Their vigils keep 

Well I'm going there
To meet my loved ones
Gone on before me, one by one
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home 

I'll soon be free of earthy trials
My body rest in the old church yard
I'll drop this cross of self-denial
And I'll go singing home to God 

Well I'm going there
To meet my Savior
Dwell with Him and never roam
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home






I had some News. I can't say much about it now except that it scared the hell out of me. I don't know what's coming next. Maybe nothing. But I've known too many people who've fallen. Some make it out. Maybe it's nothing. Probably it's nothing. Maybe not though, and my mind pinballs back and forth. I wrote an email to someone I care about and signed myself "Wayfaring Stranger", then realized, hmmmm, that's a song

I went through more than a dozen versions on YouTube and didn't like any of them. Most were full of sobbing violins and plunky banjos and tried to sound folksy and just ended up sounding maudlin. Even the great Johnny Cash didn't quite pull it off, and Joan Baez was, well, Joan Baez. Too much herself. Her signature was all over it.





I don't know who these singers are, but I love them, love the care with which they sing this, their utter musicality, pitch, tone, balance, the lean accompaniment, the brilliant a cappella section. All of it. In a very toned-down way it sounds like mountain music, which I am sure it is. Those aching harmonies, simple. These singers do not get in the way of the song.

Poor wayfaring stranger. I wonder if I subconsciously remembered any of the lyrics. I have been chasing my health issues around and around and around for a couple of years now, coming up empty, and this is not a turn for the better. I wonder, like everyone does, what happens to us, if anything, after we die, if we don't just turn to soil, not such a bad thing really. 





When poor Jasper died, I showed Erica and Lauren his little grave in the back yard. Erica blew it off, but Lauren stood there with eyes like saucers. She couldn't quite believe that he was down there, that he belonged there now. I tried to explain to her how we had given him back to nature, that he was at peace now, just like he was sleeping. 

A while later, still saucer-eyed, she said to me, "Maybe you should plant a tomato plant where he is." 

"Why?" 

"Then a tomato will grow up, and Jasper will be alive again."