A bit of springtime fun for you

The old saying goes that every person has an incredible, useless talent.  My husband can solve a Rubik's cube in well under a minute.  I have a friend who can dislocate her own toe. Each talent is pretty weird and utterly useless. 

Me?  I apparently have an unbelievable talent for finding four-leaf clovers.  For some reason, I've managed to find fourteen fifteen over the last three weeks.  Anyhow, I decided I wanted to share the thrill with everyone else.  The last time I found some, I took a picture for everyone to share. 

If you'd like to bring yourself a bit of luck, there are two four-leaf clovers in this picture.  One is much harder to pick out than the other because of the angle.

Good luck!

Scatter Plots

One of my students particularly enamored with The Laramie Project and endowed with a more mathematical imagination once described TLP as a "scatter plot" of Laramie, a broad and random cross-section of the entire community that gives a good idea of the total population.    That's one of the real beauties of TLP, honestly: we hear from ranchers, professors, police officers, Mormon home teachers, and college students, just to name a few. The way these voices all come together to show their different experiences of the exact same event creates an incredible picture of a "collected memory," to use James E. Young's term. All these voices are focused on the m emory of the same, life-changing moment; but very few of them share the same experience. 

And yet, when I think back to this student's comment, I'm a little conflicted.  I completely agree with the metaphor he picked-- the play is incredibly rich in its portrayals of the Laramie community.  The thing that bothers me a little is that I know that the scatter isn't entirely random.   It's a scatter plot, sure, but where did they take the points from?  If you understand a little bit about the background and connections between some of the key players in their drama, the plot looks a lot less random than perhaps Tectonic tries to make us believe.  That's the labyrinth I'd like to plunge us into over the next few weeks.  

But before I get started, please, please understand-- I don't intend to "out" anybody who doesn't want to be found (for instance, I'm not telling you who The Baptist Minister is).  After all, I'm coveting my own anonymity at the moment, so I insist on maintaining that for others.  I'm just going to give you the information that any regular person walking around the UW campus can find out-- no dirty laundry.  I'm not going to tell you the name of anybody who asked for anonymity, and I'm not going to give out anything that isn't revealed elsewhere or isn't common knowledge.   


Okay, so here's some information about a few interviewees that aren't volunteered by Tectonic in The Laramie Project:

Tectonic in a Mirror

Okay, so I'm starting to have some doubt recently, and it's coming from my personal relationship to some of the analysis I've been doing on Tectonic and their techniques.  As you've probably already figured out, I think that at least part of the negative reaction following Matt's death is from the (unintended) offense Tectonic caused in Laramie by breezing in uninvited and proclaiming that the Emperor wasn't wearing any clothes.  I'm a little worried that I might be doing the same thing-- maybe not so much for the larger social good as the childish glee of getting to hit back.  In short, I really need to work out my own ambivalence about pulling a Tectonic on Tectonic.  Is it fair to pull back the curtains on them and show their faults like they did Laramie?  Am I really trying to be fair in how I see their work in The Laramie Project,  or is there some sense of 'Gotcha!' journalism going on with what I'm trying to do?  I don't believe in an "eye for an eye" system of justice or Christian theology, and I sure as heck don't want to wake up one morning and realize that's exactly what I've done here.  This isn't about "getting back" at Tectonic at all, and yet I also realize that the temptation to do so is there.  I've had a lot of negative experiences due to this play.   Stephen Belber and company did some serious soul-searching about their motives in the course of their project.  How clear are my motives, after all? 

If you've been following this blog for awhile, you'll understand that question.  Sometimes I've gotten fairly snippy with Tectonic's treatment of certain things, such as the robbery motive they effectively ignored in The Laramie Project in 2000 only to trot it out as a surprising development in Ten Years Later.  If you haven't been following this blog...  you'll understand why I'm asking this question after next week's post.

When I first plunged down this rabbit-hole and tumbled through its meandering passages, this was not one of the things I had anticipated finding out about myself.  I guess that the reason I'm blogging about this now is that I want my motives to be clear-- not because I think my motives are pure and might be misunderstood, but because I'm afraid they aren't.  I'm hoping that full disclosure will help keep me honest.  Since I've seen what happened when Laramie became a "Town in a  Mirror," I need to be sure not to visit that same kind of harsh scrutiny on others just because my own wounds still sting a little.  And, selfishly, I'm kind of hoping that you all out there can help me.

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PHOTO CREDIT:

"Goodbye, Grand Tetons," from Jeffrey Beall's Flickr Photostream:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/denverjeffrey/ / CC BY-ND 2.0

Hey Mister Preacher Man

Okay, so you've all probably figured out by now that I'm no real fan of radical preachers. I've been a little gun-shy of them ever since Fred "bat-poo crazy" Phelps first showed up on the UW campus protesting the Russell Henderson trial, and my distaste of them has only increased in recent years as I've seen others like them start to spring up.  Ironically, just two weeks after I did a series on WBC protests and the counter-protesters who mock them on my blog, we had this show up on our campus: three guys walking right out of Protestant nineteenth century America to hold a scream-off with a bunch of postmodern college students.  Damn.  

These three fellas showed up last week on campus, too.  Their main preacher was a walking anachronism, dressed up like an antebellum carnival barker, down to the striped shirt, vest and flat-topped straw hat.  I kept waiting for the nightmare to end so he'd just go back to hocking boiled peanuts and cotton candy like a guy in his outfit was supposed to be doing.  Instead, he preached for hours, in unconnected ideas for the most part, about sexual sin, disobedience to God, and turning to Jesus for salvation-- and a lot about Hell.  There was not a whit about God's love or having a relationship with Jesus that exists beyond just our fear of hell to something deeper and more satisfying.  There was a lot about God as taskmaster, disciplinarian and judge without any hint of God as pursuing lover, bridegroom or loving father.  That's not even half of the message, folks.


I was standing out in the heat this afternoon taking pictures of these two when I found myself surrounded by six lesbians and a bi-curious male of my acquaintance while they chatted about the preachers and their "sodomite" condemning sign.  It was weird, to be honest; they were all chill and accepting of their presence, just ignoring the message and poking fun of the messenger, and I was the one getting bent out of shape.  I told one of them, "for me it's like having that lunatic uncle who shows up to every family reunion, gets wasted, makes a total fool out of themselves and totally embarrasses you.  You know what I mean?"  She just laughed and told me I needed to relax.  What I really wanted to do was apologize to them each personally for the yahoos holding the yellow sign. 

But, seriously, Mister Preacher Man, what exactly is it you think you're accomplishing by trotting into an environment you know nothing about and spewing your condemnation upon it?   This is not Old Testament Mesopotamia and you sure as heck are no Ezekiel.   You know nothing of these people, their individual lives, their needs or fears.  And since you can't speak to their needs in love, all that leaves you with is condemnation because you can't love a stranger, but you can judge them. 

Actually, you don't care about this campus.  If you love people enough to want to see them saved, like you kept claiming to the passersby, then why aren't you getting to know the names of some of these "sodomites" and "fornicators" and learn their stories?  Why won't you shut your traps long enough to actually listen to what they have to tell you?  Jesus, if you take a peek at the New Testament you have memorized, spent a lot less time preaching at the sinners than he did eating with them.  Actually, he preached against the religious primarily, not the sinners.  If you really want to get through to this campus, put down the damn yellow sign, buy lunch for a few "fornicators" and let them do the talking.  Learn their names, at least.  Talk about how you've let down God and how he's forgiven you-- not them.  They don't need a voice of condemnation; the Epistle to the Romans says they have the law written on their hearts already.  What they need is a common point of sympathy with you enough to find a reason to want the Lord in their lives.  

That sign above is the only thing I saw them accomplish all afternoon: they gave people a good reason to reject the gospel and assume that God doesn't exist.  And now they're going to eventually leave campus and leave the actual Christian community here to clean up their mess and try to undo the damage they've caused.  And that's just a freaking shame, man.

They're coming back in a week, and it sounds like a lot of people decided to plan ahead for a counter-protest.  So, I guess I'll see you next week with some pictures from the counter-protest and see how people react...

Research for TLP and Matt Shepard: Comm, Journalism and Soc. Sci.

Due to the nonfictional nature of The Laramie Project and its engagement with both the underlying historical event (Matt's murder) and the social issues surrounding it, I've come across a lot of scholarly work regarding the play, the movies and the historical event in other disciplines.  The media onslaught has naturally piqued some curiosity in the Communications discipline, but I was surprised at some of the others-- psychotherapy, for instance, and education.  I've compiled a list of the more interesting ones for you below. 

A couple of the trends are quite interesting.  Note, for instance, that five of the articles are psychoanalytic approaches to the play that attempt to understand the nature of forgiveness; one of the authors in that list is Stephen Wangh, one of the authors of The Laramie Project.  Two others are looking at the play as a tool to foster LGBTQ acceptance in a social setting, and one tracks the impact of such violence on communities.  The Pace article is pretty neat-- it tracks a small handful of Matthew Shepard Scholarship winners in their college careers. 

And, my favorite topic-- the unhinged media coverage of Shepard's murder and the aftermath-- also makes a showing here in the bibliography.  The complete list is just after the jump! 

The Second Casualty is the Truth: Some Thoughts on the Murder Narrative

[Our Spanish door poses a very good question: what is truth, exactly?]
[You may decide for yourself, but the door requests that you check John 18.]

Like I've said before, I did not want to hear from Henderson and McKinney when I watched The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later.   There were a lot of reasons for that which left me conflicted after the performance.  But one upside to hearing them speak, I figured, was that perhaps we'd finally hear the truth come out.  At first, when I started to think over McKinney's revelations in the play, for a moment of two I thought that we had finally heard the truth.  But the more I reflected back on the different versions I've heard and read, I realized that I don't think that was the case.  I started to see more and more holes in the new stories until I couldn't trust their version of events.  And the more I thought about it, I didn't trust what they told us in the 20/20 interview-- and they told us then that they weren't telling the truth when they talked to the cops the first time, either.  The more I mentally sorted through all this narrative debris, I started to wonder: have they ever told the truth?  And if they did, how on earth would we ever know? 

There is an old saying that in war, the first casualty is the truth.  With the two plays of The Laramie Project, we can see a similar principle at work:  Matt Shepard was the first casualty of McKinney and Henderson's rage.  The truth behind his murder, it seems, was the second.  It may be time to finally realize that of the three people who know the truth of that night, one is dead, and the other two, after so many years of rehashing this story for different purposes, have apparently lost the ability to tell us.

At this point, I feel like I can no longer treat McKinney and Henderson as capable of telling me anything about what happened on that night.  If there was ever any truth there, it's lost.  All that leaves me with is to see their stories as just that--  narratives they tell us.  Each narrative is an attempt at a relationship between them and their audience, told for a specific purpose.  Certainly, each narrative contains elements of the truth, but we have so few tools to help us discern what the truth is that the forensic truth of what happened that night might just be gone forever.  All we can do is look at these different narrative strains and evaluate them for their purpose and effectiveness.  What are the advantages to telling each story, and how were these narratives applied?  What were the perpetrators responding to when they told each story? 

Vanity Fair: "The Crucifixion of Matthew Shepard"

In March 1999, Vanity Fair did an interesting and thorough coverage of the Matt Shepard murder that includes a lot of interesting information from central figures who didn't get a lot of press later-- Tina LaBrie, for instance, and Matt Mickelson, the bartender who served both Shepard and his killers on the night he was beaten.  But the real reason I started reading it was for the illustration you see at the left.  To be honest, the first time I saw this layout in the magazine, it literally stopped me in my tracks.

As far as I can tell from this point, Thernstrom's article is the most detailed of all the earliest coverage of Shepard's death in the first six months of the case.  The details it contains are interesting for a lot of reasons-- first because it was the general public's closest look at the case for a long time to come-- but also because you can see a lot of the mythmaking of the Shepard story starting to crystallize.  Thernstrom's article contains the early facets of what would become the Shepard "narrative" later on-- the comparison to the murder site and Golgotha, for instance.  And you can also see all the details that fall out of the storytelling later-- like the actual location of the fence, or LaBrie's involvement in that limo ride to Fort Collins.  

Vanity Fair itself does not have a link up to this article online (their online archive doesn't go back 10 years), but the magazine itself is pretty easy to locate for those of you who want to track it down in a public library.  For those of you who can't find the hard copy, there is a less-than-authoritative (and probably less than legal) version of the story floating about on the Interwebs.  Beware the typos.  In the long run, you're better off digging out the hard copy. 

Source:

Therstrom, Melanie.  "The Crucifixion of Matthew Shepard."  Vanity Fair Mar. 1999: 209-14, 267–275.