Angie, the writing is so good that I was expecting a powerful moment of illumination at the close, but was sorely disappointed. It’s hard to believe that this smart writer didn’t get the point that the PD was making…

Posted by Rosemarie DiMatteo on 10 September 2007 @ 10am

I’m guessing Angie was about twelve when this took place-concentration elsewhere…between childhood and becoming an adult, I can see how it would be ‘a bunch of bullshit to fill an hour.’
I thought this was great.

Posted by Paul D on 10 September 2007 @ 1pm

I thought this was fabulous. This was written by an adult through a childs eyes and memories and it is filled with wit and charm. We could all only wish to see the humor in everyday people and life like Angie so poignantly displayed here. This “smart writer ” did not miss “the point the PD was making”: There doesn’t always have to be some grand ending to a story where we all “see the light” and become shiny happy people holding hands. Just being able to relate to someone is ending enough. We all thought the same way when we were kids, that at times, adults were filling us with bullshit. Hell, now that we are the adults, we’re the ones doing it. Excellent work Angie.

Posted by JENNIFER D on 10 September 2007 @ 9pm

The writing speaks for itself. The writer doesn’t need to “hit us over the head” with what she learned. It’s quite clear that this was a big moment. Nice job.

Posted by Rachael on 11 September 2007 @ 8am

Angie is a brilliant writer. This was a fun story to read. I liked her vivid descriptions through the eyes of an adolescent. I think it stinks though, that girls didn’t have their own boyscouts organization. The only thing close may have been this wanna-be boyscouts knock-off. Why did the boys always get to do the cool fun stuff!? Maybe it’s different nowadays. Anyhoo, good writing Angie!

Posted by Laura H on 11 September 2007 @ 1pm

I have been a reader of Angie’s materials for along time. It will not be long before her book will appear on a Library shelf. GO GIRL!

Posted by MOM C. on 11 September 2007 @ 2pm

I like the discussion going on…went back and read again: the writer can and must have it both ways. She actually loses if she doesn’t. Looking back on the “experience” as the narrator does, it’s obvious that the PD wanted the kids to see that innocent people are often accused of crimes. Duh. And I admit, it’s tough not be be trite while working that in. Still, NOT to work it in somehow–acknowledging what the reader certainly knows right along with the older and wiser narrator–undermines the writer’s cred. Trust me on this. Doesn’t mean I don’t think the writing kicks absolute buttage.

Posted by Rosemarie DiMatteo on 11 September 2007 @ 9pm

This work touches on several different layers of disappointment…with gender expectations, with fabulous local (greasy) attorneys, with profiling and prejudiced behavior, with faux wood, even with the burnt coffee. She is writing evidentially and analytically of discontent for several characters, to draw attention to the legal aspect of the story. She doesn’t point this out to you, the reader must work as well…but it brilliantly foreshadows her ending of disillusionment. She can’t make it right, because sometimes life is like that, just plain bullshit. It’s a fabulous work, even if the convertible wasn’t red!

Posted by vicki m on 11 September 2007 @ 10pm

Yes, fabulous it is. The more I read Angie’s piece, and the more we contribute to this rich conversation it generates, the more I love it. Excellent writing does this, gets people talking to each other and creating meaning in a world of endless bullshit.

Posted by Rosemarie DiMatteo on 12 September 2007 @ 10am

I think it’s the “of course” that lets on that the lesson wasn’t lost on her. But the piece isn’t so much about the lesson itself as the form of delivery, the razzle-dazzle moment that adults sometimes try to create for kids, and this kid getting to an age where she sees through it. (It’s funny; I remember some moments like that too, mostly put on by the police officers who came to our schools to do D.A.R.E. training. It’s so weird to be a kid and have a moment where you realize that an adult wants you, needs you to say ‘oooh!’ and think they’re really cool. And then to realize that you don’t think they’re cool, you think they’re dorky and needy. It’s at once so empowering and so disappointing.) Anyway, that’s what I think this piece is about. Goodbye, Nancy Drew; hello, Greasy Lawyer.

Posted by katherine on 12 September 2007 @ 11am

Oh, and thanks, Rosemary, for sparking a bit of back-and-forth. This thread is awesome! : )

Posted by katherine on 12 September 2007 @ 11am