I spent most of yesterday disgruntled, complaining about things. Granted, they were things that needed to be addressed (at least I thought they were), but being disgruntled can really wear you out.

Early in the morning I wrote (by e-mail) to my two local legislators, Senator Jeff Piccola and Rperesentative Mark McNaughton. Some months ago there was a bill wending its way through the legislature authorizing some state liquor stores to be open on Sunday. (In Pennsylvania hard liquor and wine are available only in state-run outlets. Beer is available from beer distributors and by carryout six-pack at some restaurants. At least I think so. I don't buy beer.) The measure passed, but only after Senator Vincent Fumo (whose district lies within the city of Philadelphia) attached an amendment affecting the way underage citizens are supervised at venues that serve alcohol. Instead of a ratio of 1 chaperone to every 50 underage persons, the ratio has become 1 chaperone for every 5.

The idea was to curb problems at "under 21" clubs (where no liquor license is required) and "under 21" events held at adult nightclubs (where liquor sales are suspended for the duration of the event). Most problems at these places take place on the parking lot and are caused by alcohol and other drugs that have already been consumed. And what I know about these places I know from readng it in the paper. Lynn and her friends have expressed no interest in going to such events. What no one seemed to notice was that the new law would require this same close supervision at traditional spring junior-senior proms.

Prom season has changed since I was in school. Attending the dance no longer requires that kids pair up into exclusive couples, the boy no longer necessarily bears all the expense except the girl's gown, and it is not uncommon for groups of friends rather than dating couples to attend together. (I do not deny that there are still youngsters, particularly girls, who experience this season as very stressful because not only do they not have a date, they aren't members of strong cohesive gaggles of friends the way Lynn is and thus feel constrained from attending. I've counseled them. Were I seventeen again, I'd be one of them.) Still, the prom remains sort of the Oscar night for high school kids. There's a sit-down dinner, fancy dresses, hair done up in elegant styles accented with sparkles and the occasional tiara.

In all the years I helped chaperone proms, there was never a problem caused by the availability of alcohol at the facility or because there weren't enough adults present. Even the occasional date or escort who was over 21 was expected to refrain from alcohol. (One of the most heart-touching sights for me at a prom has always been kids all dressed up and looking twenty-five while sipping a glass of milk.)

Lynn's school conducts the prom the way most schools around here do. It's a combined event for the junior and senior classes (thus drawing 400 to 500 kids), it's held at a hotel ballroom, and supervision is provided (under the old ratio) by 25 or 30 faculty and administrative personnel and two paid police officers. The new regulations would require an additional 50 to 80 chaperones, at a cost to the class of $3500.

I know all this because as a parent I received a letter from the faculty advisor to the prom committee. He was asking for volunteers to be present in the hotel facility (maybe sit around in the lobby with other mothers and play Scrabble?) but not be guests at the dinner (because the class can't afford the cost and the kids don't want us there anyway). In the alternative, the prom will have to be moved to the school cafeteria (which can accommodate only 200 people) or cancelled altogether.

I readily volunteered, with some reservations -- a fiction writer is never bored, but five and a half hours of people-watching in a hotel lobby could approach the outside limits of my ability to entertain myself. I also wrote to both of my legislators, asking for relief. I pointed out that even the sponsor of the amendment admits that he tacked it on without thinking through its implications, that he never meant for it to impose egregious burdens on those responsible for traditional school proms. I said that I agreed with the Patriot-News (a rare event in itself!) which suggested that such a hastily-enacted measure sounds good in the newsletter ("Look what I did to protect your kids!!") but can cause more problems than it solves. I asked them how they had voted on the measure. I acknowledged that we have many more pressing problems facing us these days than whether a prom goes forward as planned, but that I care about all of these things. And I vote.

After I finished that I went to Lynn's school for a parent conference with her English teacher, the one who has had the unenviable job of replacing the much beloved Mr. Rosenthal. My immediate concern was Lynn's poor performance on a test about The Scarlet Letter. She received no credit for three short answer items that I thought addressed the questions adequately if not spectacularly. (Remember, I have as much teaching experience in the same field as this substitute.) Lynn said that when she and others came upon these questions that confounded them they asked about them, and the teacher had acknowledged that the material addressed in those questions might have been presented to one section but not to the other (Lynn's).

I have other issues, such as why the class is still mired in the 19th century and why they are bothering with the Fireside poets, whom I consider negligible in a broad foundational survey for eleventh graders. And I'm not at all happy with the way "honors social studies" has failed to meet the requirements of the published curriculum (not the English teacher's problem and not addressed with her, but adding to my disgruntlement nonetheless). I don't want to go into this any further -- let's just say that I negotiated four more points for Lynn (raising her grade to a 74), kept quiet about my other concerns because fussing about them will cause more problems than they solve, and left wondering how much of my unhappiness, like my unhappiness the other day at Curves, was really due to my anxiety over a world spinning out of control.

Finally, I attended the monthly meeting of the Dauphin County Historical Society. I've been a member for many years but had until now never attended a program. The announced topic was "mining Harrisburg history for literary gems" and there was a reference in the publicity to early twentieth century novelists whose subject was the Pennsylvania Germans.

The speaker was a local columnist who was a year ahead of me in the English program at Millersville. (I looked up her maiden name. I have no recollection of her). She has worked for my hometown newspaper, The Patriot-News, for thirty-five years, writing feature articles and a weekly column that briefly highlights some aspect of Harrisburg history. In her talk she focused on three Harrisburg writers who flourished in the first half of the twentieth century. One of them is a woman whose name escapes me now. She wrote a number of children's books, all with the same pattern in the title: "The Little [Animal] Who Would Not [Do Some Desired Behavior], thus "The Little Rabbit Who Would Not Eat," "The Little Pig Who Would Not Listen," "The Little Kitten Who Would Not Get Dressed."

James Boyd wrote historical novels set in the Revolutionary War. He was a Harrisburg author only by birth, since he did all of his literary work after retiring (at a young age due to illness) to North Carolina. Ms. Bradley expressed surprise that his first novel, Drums, was still in print. (You can read an excerpt at the link above.) Well, that would seem to be because the illustrations in the classic Scribner's edition are by internationally acclaimed Pennsylvania artist N.C. Wyeth.

Helen Reimensnyder Martin is most well-known for Tillie, A Mennonite Maid, widely available online from Project Gutenberg. Beginning in 1904 and continuing until her death thirty-five years later, Mrs. Martin wrote one novel each year, working six hours each day and sometimes in the evenings. The Mennonite Historical Society considers her works about their group to be "unsympathetic," portraying the strictures of Mennonite life as something to be outgrown and sloughed off.

Ms. Bradley didn't mention that in her talk, possibly because she didn't know. Her research appears to have been shallow, compiled almost exclusively from archival material in her newspaper's files. She ended her lecture with a seemingly random list of editorial blooper headlines ("Two Sisters Reunited After 18 years At Checkout Counter") that she claimed came from The Patriot-News, but which, according to my favorite urban legends site, are actually made-up and circulated widely. Since the list had no connection to her topic, I wondered why she bothered to include it.

I've heard presentations from eleventh graders that were more polished. Maybe my standards for a lecture that I put on my hard shoes in the evening to attend are too high. But considering my enthusiasm for my Pennsylvania German classes, where the first lecture consisting of cultural and language history I already knew held me spellbound, I don't think so.

Afterward there were refreshments, delicious homemade cakes prepared faithfully for these meetings for many years by Miss Pugh, a longtime member. At least they were good.