Different Is Fine

 

My 2021 Christmas season was different for a variety of reasons, some grief-related. Many people felt a sense of loss this Christmas. Covid-weariness has taken a toll on everyone, and I was not alone in wondering what level of celebration I could muster.

 

This year I spent more energy vacillating than decorating.

• Should I set up and trim the tree? Do I really have the energy?  
• My tree is so pretty! But why put it up? Really, why?
•  Because I love to look at red, blue, and green twinkly lights and remember the stories behind all my ornaments. Because having festive décor one month a year adds variety to my surroundings, and variety is the spice of life.
• Maybe spices are overrated. Sigh.

 

I had fun helping two girlfriends decorate their houses, and they both offered to come help me decorate. Very tempting offers. Still, I chose to put out a crèche and a candle and call it a day. I wanted to conserve energy for spending time with people, choosing and wrapping some gifts, mailing at least a few Christmas cards. In retrospect, I think that was wise.

 

I do miss seeing a colorful, twinkling Christmas tree, a basket of red and silver crystal balls on the coffee table, and red wooden angels and Santas tucked here and there. But I got to see festive bows and wrapping paper in the living room for several weeks, and they provided pops of color—my own original, dorky, low-energy Christmas-bow decorations. A plus—dismantling my Christmas décor will also be easy this year.

 

Connecting with people in various ways made for a warmly meaningful season. Accepting my energy limits felt odd, but wise. Christmas traditions are awesome! But you know what? Different is fine.

The Girl Who Reads on the Metro ~ my review

 

If you enjoy reading, you must meet Juliette. And Soliman. And Leonidas. Noticing what others on the Parisian subway and in parks are reading, they sense what people might like to read next and leave that book on a bench for them to "coincidentally" find. In this, they act as passeurs, the term for people who sneaked books into the hands of book-loving Jews in Nazi-occupied Paris. That Christine Féret-Fleury's novel, The Girl Who Reads on the Metro, is a modern-day story makes their secret society all the more charming.

Although the novel includes some relational drama, not least of which is young Juliette's courage to follow her heart into this mysterious, oddball adventure, the story is really about love of literature. Literature expands our horizons and engenders empathy toward others. Although a solitary act, reading can bring us together. Féret-Fleury includes a suggested reading list.

For me, Féret-Fleury's lyrical, sometimes symbolic, descriptions were the most delightful aspect of The Girl Who Reads on the Metro. Oh, how I would love to be able to write literary fiction like this!

Amor Towles' The Lincoln Highway novel ~ my review

  

What a ride! Like the epic tales in Billy Watson’s Professor Abacus Abernathe’s Compendium of Heroes, Adventurers, and Other Intrepid Travelers, The Lincoln Highway is a true epic tale. Throughout his and his brother Emmett’s labyrinthine adventure, eight-year-old Billy eagerly shares the compendium’s stories of mythical heroes with his traveling companions. All adults, they humor him as he reads these fascinating stories. But in savant-like fashion, Billy understands the heart of these stories and practices their lessons in the many scrapes the group gets into.

 

Their scrapes are usually the machinations of wily, slippery, sociopathic, but wildly entertaining Duchess (Daniel) Hewett. Billy and Emmett Watson’s aim is straightforward—to drive the Lincoln Highway from Nebraska to California. Billy wants to find their mother, who deserted the family when Billy was just a baby, and Emmett wants to not follow in his failed-farmer father’s footsteps and instead flip houses in San Francisco. When smooth-talking, pathological liar Duchess inserts himself into their plans by stealing Emmett’s car and money, the trip’s twists and turns begin. Duchess and simple-minded pal Woolly drive to New York for Duchess’ nefarious purposes, which necessitates the now-broke Watson boys’ boxcar train travel to find Duchess and Woolly and retrieve their car and money.

 

Oh, the storied characters they meet along the way! The pluck they show in finding Duchess and Woolly in New York City and in navigating unfamiliar territory! Their challenges to not repeat past mistakes! Amor Towles has written a storyteller’s dream novel. I could not have imagined the people in this book, which is a rich, character-driven, 576-page chase scene—creative, suspenseful, and engaging. As if the characters’ stories are not enough, Towles gives them each golden nuggets of wise observations to drop in the reader’s path.

 

Amor Towles’ The Lincoln Highway is a brilliant literary adventure. Even after reading the dust jacket plot summary, you will be clueless about the treasures within until you read the book.

 My nephew who just had a birthday delights in reciting this nonsense rhyme from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass, so Jabberwocky's being on my mind from his birthday and my poetry-loving mother's going for her COVID booster shot (a.k.a. the JAB) yesterday ... I had to suggest that as she was getting the JAB, she recite "Jabberwocky." Just a little word play to lighten a moment.

Jabberwocky

Lewis Carroll - 1832-1898

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
   Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
   And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son
   The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
   The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
   Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
   And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
   The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
   And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
   The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
   He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
   Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
   He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
   Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
   And the mome raths outgrabe.

 

This poem is in the public domain.

https://poets.org/poem/jabberwocky 

Comforting Autumn Traditions

Since last autumn we’ve all seen so many changes and losses, I for one find comfort in traditions I can continue. Life lately feels as though I’ve been spinning and dangling midair in a Ferris wheel capsule while carnival tents below change from red, blue, and yellow to gray and darker gray, and games of skill become games of chance. (Don’t get me started on the clowns’ transformations.) Now I just want off this ride to go find the tent serving funnel cakes and soft pretzels like the ones I remember.

My autumn food traditions are healthier but just as comforting: pumpkin-squash soup, ratatouille, and applesauce. They all begin with a trip to the farmers market to buy the freshest veggies and fruit and get my big knife sharpened. Even my sharp knife couldn’t puncture, let alone slice, the little pie pumpkins. The farmer must have sold me orange rocks! With that snafu, this year’s soup is butternut squash soup sans pumpkin. Oh my goodness, it’s wonderful! When stewing the ratatouille this year, I added Penzey’s Herbes de Provence and Shepherd Mediterranean Spice Mix. Fennel and lavender in those blends gave my ratatouille a subtle loveliness this year. And this year’s applesauce combo was Jonathan and Macintosh varieties, a little too tart for my tastes so I tried two cinnamon sticks. It’s still not very sweet, but it’s tradition to have applesauce fragrantly bubbling in a big enameled cast iron pot on the stove.

 

Healthy autumn comfort-food traditions accomplished, I will now put my two pumpkin-rocks out on the porch and hope the squirrels don’t break their teeth on them.

 

A Woman's Place by Lynn Austin ~ my review

With only about a hundred pages to go in A Woman’s Place, I felt eager for final developments in the lives of Ginny, Rosa, Helen, and Jean, so I read faster. Then I dreaded no longer being in their lives, so I read slower. Then faster. Then I hoped maybe Lynn Austin had written a sequel.

 

Austin’s engaging historical novel begins in December 1941 and ends in October 1944. Ginny, Rosa, Helen, and Jean, who have very different personalities and life situations, join the war effort by working as electricians in a shipbuilding plant. Their reasons are varied and both altruistic and personal.

 

As their home lives unfold, and as they support each other in the face of opposition to their working, they become friends. This novel contains some romantic hopes and struggles and some spiritual seeking. Again, all four women are at completely different places with their dreams and faith, but Austin weaves these relationships into a rich tapestry.

 

Also interesting to me was the taste of what life was like here at home during World War II. Economizing and rationing, of course, but societal attitudes toward women, women working, even women driving, and prejudice against Blacks—those were difficult, painful years. Not every soldier came home from the war.

 

Another aspect of A Woman’s Place that drew me in was the exploration of motives. Real-life conflicts involving rebellion, anger, compliance, suspicion, stubbornness, and fear often begin with misunderstanding motives but ultimately lead to softening of hearts and acting with honor, courage, and love. Not every conflict gets resolved—we still have discrimination, for example, and some losses are irretrievable—but Austin satisfactorily wraps up the wartime stories of Ginny, Rosa, Helen, and Jean. 

 

Vacation Double-Takes

 What? A wind strong enough to blow the ice cream right out of my cup did not blow the humidity out of town?

I saw a woman stride down the sidewalk with her rather large dog under her arm like a furry rolled-up beach towel. Nearby, a party of five adults padded in baby steps to match the pace of their miniscule dog whose short legs could only inch this entourage along.

 

Cars cruising by playing loud music annoy me at home, but in my favorite Michigan beach town, this cacophony is all part of the happy, free-wheeling, vacation vibe. The kids play such fun, energetic music; that thumping beat makes me feel young again. So, whizzing down the highway to get to my happy place, I played an old Putumayo music cassette tape, “The Best of World Music.” I loved that tape and hadn’t heard it in decades. As I bounced to the beats in my car like a fool, I thought, Hey, when I get to town, why don’t I roll down the window, crank up the volume, and share this cool, fun music with everyone? If teens can do it, so can I! Just as I roll down the window, the tape drags in slo-mo, just like senior citizens do. Hilarious timing!

 

My tape acting its age forced me to act my age. Back at the hotel, I washed out my masks and clipped them up to dry by the fireplace. Made myself a cup of decaf tea, worked a crossword puzzle, read a book, all in slo-mo, just like the old folks. Still a day full of smiles.

 

My review of The Listening Path and Laziness Does Not Exist

Julia Cameron’s The Listening Path suggests simple habits that could transform a life in many positive ways. Subtitled The Creative Art of Attention, the book encourages us to slow down to intentionally listen, and to schedule solo “artist dates” and walks to practice becoming more observant of our surroundings. Cameron believes these habits will enrich our relationships, our joy, and our creativity. The foundational habit that frees our mind to be more fully present to life is what she calls “morning pages.”

 

Morning pages are simply private, stream-of-consciousness, handwritten thoughts, worries, gratitude, prayers—whatever is on your mind. As you write, you may see a solution you hadn’t seen before, or discover a deep-seated dream for your life, or get more in touch with what you’re thankful for. At the very least, writing morning pages clears your mind for greater attentiveness.

 

Cameron’s The Listening Path is a series of anecdotes illustrating the habits and people’s transformative results, so the principles that make the habits effective read like an interesting story. I’ve begun the habits she suggests and find a new energy to life. She calls this “a six-week Artist’s Way program," and she’s laid out what to practice listening to each of the six weeks: our environment, others, our higher self, beyond the veil, our heroes, and silence.

 

Besides the habits themselves, I found Cameron’s frequent sidebar suggestions immensely helpful. Her sidebars, entitled: Try This, are specific assignments. Even if you practiced only one of her forty-plus sidebar challenges, you’d grow as a person.

 

I just happened to borrow Laziness Does Not Exist from the library while I was reading The Listening Path, which turned out to be serendipitous timing. Social psychologist Dr. Devon Price rethinks our society’s negative connotations of laziness by pointing out that periods of mental inactivity are necessary to solve problems, create, gain insights, heal, prioritize tasks, get in touch with our feelings, and so forth. Price includes charts, and I love charts. My favorites in this book are “Mental Habits That ‘Dampen’ Happiness” [page 117] and “Mental Habits That Help Us Savor Happiness.” [page 119] And Price suggests awe-inspiring activities that would fit right in with Julia Cameron’s “Try This” assignments.

 

Sadly, I will not have time to read Laziness Does Not Exist in its entirety at this time, but I can see that this book offers scientifically based permission to free yourself from counterproductive cultural work, relationship, and personal expectations. Let's hear it for downtime!