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The Michigan Daily - Weekend, etc. Magazine -
68 - The Michigan Daily - Weekend, etc. Magazine - Thursday, January 17, 2002
[77~NOT WANTING TO BE MRS. SOMEBODY ELSE
Farmer's market provides a
plethora of tastes in the cold
sit here as the new columnist,
the journalistic novice to the
Daily, and I try to reflect on
my life and the myriad of ques-
tions that plague my young mind
each day.
Once in a while I will gaze out
my window at the first blizzard of
the season, and wonder: Exactly
who was it that discovered that
Severy single snowflake is different
v from the rest?
Someone actually sat down to
study each individual drop of
x .EC frozen rain, only to make that sim-
ple statement? Sounds absurd to
1 43me!
And then I glance around my
MA ~messy room, wishing that some-
body else can come in and clean it,
xAS and ask myself, "Why do we
always clean up for the cleaning
person to come?"
Did you ever notice that people
do that?
n.t.;.; I'm telling you, I find this so
A ° profound.
Anyway, out of all my random
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questions, I have decided to focus
on one that pertains much more to
my life than those previously men-
tioned, and allows me to question
society and
the values that
we have all
grown up
with.
I recently
engaged in an
interesting
conversation
with a good
friend over an
issue I always
found trivial
in life, yet one
which he Rena
t h o u g h t
shocking to Greifinger
even bring up.g
He was
a pp all e d, you gy
utterly stupe-
fied at my W ()
mention of
keeping my
last name when married.
He demanded to know my prob-
lem, my outlandish reasoning for
such an absurd personal choice.
To think! In a world like today,
in our unconventional society,
where you can only enter certain
bars in New York City if you are
stark naked, one would still think
this phenomenon ridiculous!
I suppose it begins with the
atypical family I was raised in.
Mom commuted to an urban
office each morning while Dad
stayed home in front of a comput-
er, contemplating the afternoon's
grocery purchases for dinner. My
friends never comprehended my
skewed perception of the family
and constantly questioned the
peculiarities of my life.
What I had innocently accepted
as normal, they thought complete-
ly weird. Hence, my outrageous
reasoning for the concept of the
last name was born.
My mother must not have read
the "traditional rules of marriage"
pamphlet before tying the knot,
and here she is today; married for
twenty years, with the same last
name as the one deemed her own
from birth, perfectly happy and
successful.
She did it!
She held onto that significant
piece of her identity, and nothing
bad has happened!
For, what is name exactly?
Simply a mere, meaningless com-
bination of letters?
I beg to differ. My name belongs
to me,,.and only me. '
Where would Rena Greifinger
go if I became Mrs. Somebody
else?
I would feel slightly stripped of
my characteristics, my femininity;
robbed of my eccentricity as if I'm
nothing more than a nameless
adjunct to another. My name is
special to me, as form fitting as
my skin, and just as painful to
remove.
And what a hassle to give it up!
Changing documents, correcting
those who have known me for so
long and have addressed me as the
old friend they thought they
always knew. Explaining to my
father that I no longer want associ-
ation with his family nomencla-
ture - that I would rather put a
younger and less known male
before him! And you all call me a
lunatic?
Why is this a tradition?
With the feminist movement and
the attempt to end female subordi-
nation to men, why on earth am I
regarded as strange for refusing to
be sheltered by another's identity?
A man will never take my name,
never cash in that one thing that
sets him apart from everyone else,
to take on a false and already-used
piece of self-recognition. I would-
n't even want that.
Now, I know I sound like a rav-
ing feminist, and in fact I am not.
I am not angry, not scowling at
men and their egotistic domination
of American culture.
I don't want to introduce myself
to you all as some opinionated
psycho who will constantly preach
all of society's wrongs to the stu-
dent body.
I have just come to the conclu-
sion that society can indeed be so
unpredictable. I have no problem
with women who submit to this
age-old ritual when getting mar-
ried.
I do not see them as weak or
dependant. I just want to be able to
make that choice for myself, keep
my name, and be accepted by my
friends and the people I interact
with - those I will have to correct
each time they address me with
the standard societal rules of mar-
riage in their minds.
In this crazy world where the
only thing that is constant is
change, I do not believe this issue
will sit atop my prioritized list of
concerns for my future.
I guess I jltst needed to vent.
- Rena Greifinger can be reached
via e-mail at rgreifln@umich.edu.
By Rebecca Ramsey
Daily Arts Writer
On Saturday mornings at 7 a.m. most college students
are sleeping after staying out late on Friday nights and
are unaware that other people are already out doing
things in Ann Arbor. While fluffy pillows and feath-
erbeds may seem like a godsend at this time, students
who are sleeping are missing out on the action that takes
place early on at the Ann Arbor Farmer's Market in
Kerrytown.
Vendors from near and far (far as in over an hour
away) arrive in Ann Arbor early enough to set up tables
to sell apples, jewelry, various flavors of jams, sheeps'
wool stuffed animals and other items they have made or
grown, often from their own farms.
Due to cold winters, the market is only open on
Saturdays between January and April. The vendors are
willing to brave the cold weather from 7 a.m. until 3
p.m. in order to make a buck and to cater to those cus-
tomers who prefer the taste of old fashioned goods over
supermarket products.
I arrived at the Farmer's Market around noon, expect-
ing to see crowds of people fighting for the best looking
fruit and bartering with the vendors. To my surprise, the
market was practically empty and the only fruit for sale
was apples, which makes sense due to the limitations
from cold weather. I soon learned that the majority of
the market commotion takes place very early, even
before the selling begins.
"My best apples are gone by 7 (a.m.). Some people
even get here at 6 (a.m.) to buy apples to take with them
to work," explained Alex Nemeth, a vendor whose fam-
ily has been coming to Ann Arbor from its orchard to
participate in the selling for over 70 years.
While many of his apples had already been purchased,
he still had an abundance of Red Delicious and Jonathan
apples (a tart apple cleverly named after apple pioneer
Johnny Appleseed). One would think that Nemeth is the
most successful due to his prices being the lowest at the
market, but he still insisted that "There really isn't any
competition between the apple vendors."
Like Nemeth, many of the vendors come from fami-
lies which have been connected to the market or farming
for many years. Chelsea resident Nancy Armstrong, who
sells an array of jams, butters and syrups, grew up on a
raspberry farm. As a young girl, she left her farm life
behind and graduated in 1965 from the University with
a degree in math. However, the Sixties did not provide
many opportunities for women.
"Women ould either be atteacher or anurse back
then," recalls Armstrong. "I taught, but I was through
with it when I had kids. I went back to the farm, but I
swore that I wasn't going to make any damn jam."
Now, she runs a successful business at her farm called
Window Vinegar, which specializes in many "damn
jams." She also puts her math skills to good use, meas-
uring the exact amount of ingredients to make deli-
ciously eclectic preserves, like crabapple jam, which is
surprisingly sweet. Her products are popular among
people of all ages. Her tomato jam is often bought by
grandchildren for their grandparents because it brings
back nostalgic memories.
I walked down to a nearby table, where a man who
prides himself in being called "Amber Al" was selling
amber and turquoise jewelry. There were many bracelets
and necklaces, some he made and some imported from
Lithuania. There were also amber pendants with insects
that had been stuck in the amber for 17-40 million years.
I asked Al if these innovative and highly creative pieces
of jewelry were inspired by "Jurassic Park."
"I've been selling insect-in-amber jewelry for some
time now. But, "Jurassic Park" really did boost my busi-
ness," said Amber Al.
It was a very enjoyable experience since everyone was
so friendly and helpful. Enjoyable, that is, until I
approached a table where different flavors of honey were
being sold.
Thomas Arnott, a honey entrepreneur from Howell
who reads the "Bee Hive Product Bible," initially
seemed pleased that I was inquiring about his honey
development and even let me taste all four of his flavors,
including one made with bee pollen.
"- Bee pollen has every nutrient that the body needs," he
explained. "I've been stung many times just to make that
honey."
I was going to ask him about the Yellow Rocket honey,
when he suddenly scowled at me and asked if he could
"help the real customers." He was a honey snob, and I, just
a journalist, could only walk away.
I considered finding Alex Nemeth so that I could pur-
chase the biggest apple and throw it at the honey guy, but I
resisted. The Farmer's Market is not a place for brawling. It
is a place where people can get together, sell and show off
their products, bond throughout the cold and make fun of
the weirdos who make the ugly stuffed cheetahs.
Question of
"Which celebrity dc
Q "Robert Downey, Jr. I got
at a student conference."
- Rafel Mah
Q "Ice Cube."
- Beau Hunt, S
Q "Man, if I had a beard, th
from The Roots. And if I wor
- Harshin
Q ""Once I was told I look Ii
Lopez ... OK, on the day I v
I did resemble her a little. Bu
think I really do everyday."
-Sarah Regner;
y
CAFE.
Continued from Page 7B
up starting with her elbow on the arm-
rest, her hand under her jaw, and her fin-
gers curled around the back of her neck,
and she's happy. She smiles prettily as he
recounts something silly about his room-
mate, but her eyes are separate from the
banality as she looks at the way he
speaks, the way he moves his hands, and
the way he shifts in his seat when he
thinks he's pleased her by something he's
said.
But he doesn't see how her eyes are
working, and he just goes on by what he
correctly thinks is a winning plan. Time
passes, watches are looked at once and
then twice more needlessly, and she real-
ly does have to get going. She gets up
first, and he responds with a "good
night" and "I'll see you in class." No
hugs or kisses, but he leaves shortly after
her, victorious.
These particular people won't always
be at the cafe, but others portraying the
same roles will. Walk into this cafe
tomorrow and you'll find new faces, but
the same people, maintaining the equi-
librium.
A Tribute to Gospel
Mattie Moss Clark
Featuring The Clark Sisters
This gospel tribute is dedica
most influential and import
progression of Gospel music
Orchestre de Paris
Christoph Eschenbach condo
Pierre-Laurent Aimard piano
PROGRAM
Messiaen
Ravel
Ravel
Ravel
Les offrandes
Piano Concertc
La Valse
Daphnis and C
DANNY MOLOSHOK/Daily
urns
°'t Iol .
764.2531
A valid student ID isrequired. Limi
offered if an event is sold out. Sea
A cafe is a perfect place to people watch.
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