Teacher Man ~ Hillbilly Elegy ~ Bookshelf No. 10 ~ January 2021

It has been a particularly cold start to 2021. Yesterday, Debbie reminded me about the heroine of  The Nightingale and her perseverance against the elements in a particular harrowing part of the story. She asked if it were based upon a true story. I believe it is a compilation but very plausable. While staying in from the cold myself, I watched  again the movie, which is based upon the book of the same title, 'Angela's Ashes.' It is not an easy story. It is not a feel-good movie, even though the main character and author survives his childhood and upbringing, There is no way to paint the picture beautiful. But he tells it anyway and goes on to write two more books - Tis' and Teacher Man. I keep a copy of the latter on my shelf, although I've only listened to it. The author narrates it, and I wouldn't doubt if he also narrates in the movie 'Angela's Ashes.' His Irish accent with its lilt of resignation at the end of every sentence completes the story in an exceptionally profound way. I did not know about the books beyond Angela's Ashes, until Mom and Dad left their audio copy with me, with the disclaimer to 'not listen with the boys in the car.' My parents have notoriously listened to recorded books in the car on all of their outings. They would, and mom still does, take an extra lap on the way home from church just to finish a chapter. They also told me to skip a few chapters where Frank finds love in America. They are not one's to offer something without the full warning. 

Stories can remind us and can give us the metaphor we need to cope. Resilience in McCord’s books is an understatement- the narrator in the movie shares this about Frank McCourt's early life: "When I look back on my childhood, I wonder how m y brothers and I managed to survive at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood. The happy childhood is hardly worth telling. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood. And worse still is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.' 

When I read and watch stories such as Frank McCourt's, I think of his mother Angela, standing out of necessity in the greviously humiliating line for charity at the Society of Saint Vincent de Paul. Bitterness grew in her and escape from the culture was almost impossible, especially for a married woman. But this same situation caused his mother to take him to the school his teachers suggested he go, as he showed ‘real promise.’ Stories may share the tragic circumstances of  a phoenix like heroine, but they may also ask us to consider the greater impact of a determined soul.

 I am almost finished reading Hillbilly Elegy. Yesterday, a passage seemed pertinent in my accidental comparison of these two men. After surviving his own most challenging childhood, J.D. Vance describes Usha, a classmate while at Yale, for whom he 'fell hard.' He writes, 'I had never met anyone like her. ... Usha occupied an entirely different emotional universe. ... She instinctively understood the questions  I didn't even know to ask. .... I didn't know how the world worked. ... Usha's presence made me feel at home.' For all their perceived differences, it seems to me that what he found was someone trustworthy who saw things differently than he did. Vance’s life had been rescued in many ways before he met Usha, but that relationship would never have been possible if he hadn’t had others who gave him the gumption to ask questions and not settle for what life had dealt him.  McCord calls this necessary element ‘doggedness.’ From Teacher Man,  “Doggedness,’ he says, is “not as glamorous as ambition or talent or intellect or charm, but still the one thing that got me through the days and nights.”

I see many connections between these two stories. Both had a desire to tell their stories and were careful to share the affection they had for even those who had caused the most harm in their lives. I see specifically two strong women, one strong grandfather, who stood in the gap where others had failed, and in places where they themselves had failed. Gap-standing is a thankless job. I believe the authors didn’t want this to happen to the people who had made their lives possible. For me and every other reader, the story doesn’t stop blessing  within those who meet them personally. Because J.D. and Frank wrote their stories, I can know it is possible to move past literal and figurative ashes into worlds that only the imagination can sustain. When the darkest days in a surreal January can challenge a soul, it is good to know even the broken story can be redeemed. 

Winter 2021

This December 2020 and January 2021, I have been writing about books on my Bookshelf. Someday someone will be cleaning out my shelves, or at some point one might wonder why a books was worth the investment of time to read. So, I'll keep writing and sharing my Bookshelf. These are not book reviews, but more thoughts that have occurred to me when reading and reflecting during this period of time. If ever these are published, I'll go back and document specific quotes and footnotes, but that is for another day. For now I'm just sharing as though we're having coffee and I can't wait to talk about a good book. Links are often found on Amazon. I am not presently an active affiliate, but if this is so, I would receive a very small percentage of the sale for sending you their way. I like most of all to send you to Goldberry Books, an online  bookseller with a special brick and mortar bookshop in North Carolina. Not an affiliate, just a fan. They have the list for the Close Reads Podcast, among many other wonderful suggestions for reading. 

O' Henry and Jack London ~Bookshelf No. 9 ~ January 2021

 Upon the birth of our first son, my brother sent along a  'name-sake' book he selected to honor the occasion. My son, Jack,  is named for my grandfather, Jack Maison Woolf, and my husband's  Uncle Conrad 'Connie' Cebulski. But the book Drake selected was about another Jack altogether, represented well in,  Call of the Wild  by Jack London. While it would seem to some, a 'cute' gift, London was no stranger to either of Drake or myself. Our family has roots in Northern California where London, after many years of adventure, lived out his days. We have dear friends in Alaska, with whom, for a season, Drake lived and experienced a bit of the 'Last Frontier.' When we were both still  in high school, we visited my grandmother, Zada,  and Andy, the grandfather with whom I grew up, in Sonoma County, where she is now buried beside my Grandfather, Earl Freeman Bassett. He passed away when I was only a thought-- he knew I was to be born, but we never met. But South Dakota born Louis 'Andy' Anderson was a wonderful and loving husband to my grandmother in her last days in Napa .   He was the 8th grade educated -only- grandfather I knew, who once told me to get  'as much learning as I could, because it is the only thing they can't take away from  you.'  As many times as we could go back, we did. 

15 years old, Northern CA Coast

So we made the trek by train one Christmas across the country and through the Rockies to visit Grandma and Andy. While we were there, we ventured out to visit Wolf   House, the ruins of Jack London's home and final resting place of he and his  beloved mate, Charmian. 

Books tend to inform, shape our view of life. London's tend to inform, enlighten, and sometimes darken. His nihilistic view of life, and his perception of humans as 'just another species,' brought about some amazing stories, including, 'To Build a Fire.' But these stories do not enlighten one to see God but describe a limited view of the created man, seen not as a unique creature, but another soul-less animal among animals.  Adam Andrews said it best though. To understand nihilism, it is wise to ask a nihilist, and who better to read than Jack London. 

While I can see a handful of personal connections to the book, the best would be how well my son cuts to the marrow of an issue. He is not living in a state of denial and is like London, and every other young man, making his way in the wild of his day.  So this book still stands on the family bookshelf, in honor of his birth and in appreciation to the canon of Jack London. 

Our second son, Henry Robert, was named for his grandfather, Robert 'Papa  Bob' Sherman. As we, Eric and I, made our way to California for another return to the region of both of our families homeplace, we would determine the first name for our son to be Henry. We both just liked it. We both had no other name in mind at the time, and it just stuck. I thought of the book by O'Henry Dad had given me some years ago, which included the story of 'The Gift of the Magi.'  That story seems to resonate more clearly after more years of marriage than fewer. Caring and giving seem to grow sweeter after experiencing  years of togetherness in both struggle and success. Henry's arrival in our life came at a time when we thought we were a family of three. We did not know we were to gather up our own 'Red Chief' among the sunflowers and garlic from the Sacramento Valley. But this blondie blue-eyed boy would prove every bit of the story, 'The Randsom of Red Chief,' the humorous tale of a boy picked up by kidnappers who eventually bring him back. Henry has snuck and sneaked and generated quiet chaos since the day he was born.   'Benign neglect' and 'free range' approach to parenting became essential in raising Henry. His sense of independence and strong will have taken me to places I never dreamed I'd go, and continue to fuel the fire of our family  when even the kindling on the hearth is soaked. 

From my own text, O. Henry, Ransom of Red Chief 

So accidental as these 'name-sake' books may seem, I believe there is a providential essence to each. While Jack is not a nihilist, he seeks the very essence of everything that is found in the wild North West. He would have embraced the Gold Rush and camped by a fire in the wilderness, with a dog for his only companion. My Henry has been lost a million times to us (on the beach, at the park, at church...) but he has never been lost to himself. My little clove of garlic finds his way and persists as high as the sunflowers we saw as we drove away from the hospital with this new babe in tow. 

Yes, writers of books inform our souls, give us guiderails for our thoughts, enlighten our traditions, even across centuries and continents to calm and complete the persons we become.   I love seeing these books side by side on my bookshelf. I'm thankful and at peace when I think through the details of each uniquely designed child with their uniquely  created souls. The books that bear their names connect me to possibilities that I can layer with my life experiences, created by an author I've never met nor shall, save only through the literature they left behind.

 I'll take it. 

A Christmas Carol ~ Bookshelf No. 8 ~ December 2020

   Charles Dicken's backstory is one not to miss.  As he is widely  appreciated in literary circles, I won't try to retell his story, but will suggest one  considers it before dismissing him or his books. Not only do his books tell stories of unique and brilliant characters, they tell of what  may be our own future if we are to look closely enough. For there really is nothing new  'under the sun.' The stories may have different customs and styles, but there is the  constant thread of humanity, both the broken and the victorious and the choices his characters have made. 

According to the church calendar, it is the 5th day of  Christmas, 2020. While I do not officially follow that calendar, it is a point of reference I've begun to appreciate. After the hustle and bustle of pre-Christmas Day events, the world slows down,  and if you don't rush to put away your chotchkies and decorations, those representative lights can illuminate an almost lost opportunity to embrace some of the most beautiful traditions ever. 

Our little family is well acquainted with A Christmas Carol . Each year, we have either watched or read the story in part or whole. There are numerous cinematic offerings. My favorite is the 1931 black and white, but from trusted friends, I've heard the Muppet version is good also. I'll have to take their word for it. Not gonna happen. But my favorite scene is one Eric shared with our church family one Christmas Wednesday evening in Baton Rouge. Scrooge has just become aware of Marley's ghost and his presence has overtaken the room. Marley is a visage, but  to better understand  him, Scrooge invites him to sit, if he can. Like most of humanity, we don't understand what the after-life is really like and Scrooge is no exception. 

I will not argue Dicken's theology, but I'll use it as an example of what the human mind can understand. Our lives are not a pointless experiment, like Elton John once asked in song, in which we have no say.  Marley describes his 'traveling' after-life, with, 'no rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse.'... Holding  up his chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again. 'At this time of year, I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow- beings with my eyes  turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me!' 

In the twilight minutes of 2020, we are blessed with the reset of a new year.  Llike most, I remember from the past few months a few 'paper-bag ' moments where the room wouldn't stop spinning, where everything felt lost and would never be recovered. I noticed this year, while watching  'It's a Wonderful Life,'  similarites to 'A Christmas Carol,' --the feeling of relief when what was familiar and beautiful came back into focus or was revealed a new, in the case of Scrooge, at the end of each story. 

Last year at this time, I was mid-year in a Life Mentoring class with Edie at Life In Grace. In bold letters across a journal, I wrote like all the other classmates, '2020 - Best Beautiful Year.' Yup. I did. What a joke-- or was it? Would I trade all that has happened? or the  transformation and growth that has come. I crossed through those seemingly bogus words at one point and wrote in the margins of my dream/ planning/journal I'd carefully curated, 'All is not lost, they(hopes) are still there, and they are good.' I don't know about you, but every fiber in my being was tested this year. Every nerve and synapse found places I didn't know existed. I found myself like Scrooge, facing the unknown on my knees with my hands in my pockets, reflecting and thoughtful,  desperate, wishing for the mortal, temporal rest in the comfortable, for the easy.  But easy doesn't create change or growth.  

'Reset' is a charged word these days. But a reset, like Dickens has offered to us is one I'll take.  Scrooges eyes are opened. And  I would assert like no other new years eve, my eyes have been opened too-- to the brokenness of my life and the world, but also again to the opportunities of victory as well. 'Do it scared,' has a whole new level of meaning. But as every generation who has gone before would agree, like it or not, the new year has come, and the choice is mine. What will I be reflecting on in a year? In many ways, it feels like we have no choice, but that isn't true. We do. We always do. 

My chalkboard Wall

Hope Believes All Things ~ Bookshelf No. 5 ~ December 2020

   'I couldn't put words to it, but Swede, as usual, could.  

"Afraid we're being impertinent?" 

 "Yes." 

"Presumptuous? Arrogant? Blasphemous?" 

This still happens with Swede and me. I'll lack a word, and she'll dump out a bushel of them. 

  "You called Jonah a griper---"

"Well, you read about him. After the whale he goes to Nineveh and tells the pagans to repent or God'll burn them to death, and their cows too. So the pagans repent---- ashes and gunnysacks from the king on down! And you k now what Jonah does?" 

"No," I admitted. (R euben)  Actually, I thought the book ended when he got coughed up. 

'He mopes! He marches off in the desert and asks God to burn those pagans anyway, and their cows." 

"Well, that wouldn't be fair,"I said. 

"That's what  God said too, but Jonah sat there pouting. Lip out to here! He didn't want those pagans to repent; he wanted a barbecue." 

 

 I love this book, Peace Like A River by Leif Enger.    I love how Swede and her brother, the narrator, Reuben Land, sort things out, talking things over. They ask the big questions, reference timeless standards and stories, and come to their conclusions.  Until the next day  when they are faced with a new challenge, maybe bigger and more difficult than anything they might imagine. Their stories inform their souls then too. 

I don't believe 'books teach us lessons.' In a sense they do, or can but that's a distilled conclusion. A writer worth his salt sets out to tell a story that will convey what he or she knows to be worth telling, the remembrance they wish to share with their children or their community, shaping future generation's culture. Enger does this through the voices of Swede and Reuben. At one point Reuben reflects on Swede's perceptive observations: 

    "Well, we all hold history differently inside us. For Swede such episodes retold themselves into a seamless and momentous narrative; she had a Homeric grasp on the significance of events, and still does; one of her recent letters asks, Is it hubris to believe we all live epics? "

I heard a politician in our heated Georgia climate say yesterday, he had picked an unusual time to get into politics. Yes, yes he did. But there he is. How do we govern our hearts when we are called for 'such a time as this?' It's not for me today to assess him or his heart, but it is for me everyday to reflect on my own. While marking wrong doing and weighing matters of justice and right, it is the easy path to be swept up in the heat of the moment. Like Swede and Reuben, it is for us to wrestle with what we know to be true and stepping back to see a broader picture. 

A few years ago, a friend graciously asked me to attend the Kupendwa Ministries Dinner here in Athens. She was hosting a table and I was blessed, along with my friend Debbie who came with me. I saw Amy Washington,  the visionary,  and her family who have given their lives to 'the least of these.' I heard Bob Goff speak, the author of Love Does, Discover a Secretly Incredible LIfe in An Ordinary World. He spoke of an usual time in his life when he was presented with an opportunity and he had no idea from where the resources would come. His laughter and engagement was contagious! We laughed so hard and cried with him in joy over the success of the 'extraordinary ordinary' that he had seen manifested. 

I am also reflecting on passages like this from Lysa Terkeurst,  The Best Yes,  Making Wise Decisions in the Midst of Endless Demands.  

'You won't ever be able to keep up with unrealistic. Unrealistic demands lead to undercurrents of failure. So don't allow the unrealistic demands of others to march freely into your life. Resolve instead to make decisions based on what is realistic-- not on trying to earn the approval of or impress another." 

I would offer Swede's approach to synthesize what we know, instead of living by one slogan or mantra. I must be realistic about what I can do on my own. But I must lean into the unknown with faith and hope, like Bob and Amy, who have relied, like Lysa also, upon God and HIS miraculous power.  Swede and Reuben go on in their conversation to bring up others from the Old Testament who trusted boldly. 

Bold belief, bold hope leans into faith which leads to confidence (' a memory of success'.)* Realistic becomes empowered by informed faith and hope, and my worries calm down. I worry less about the wrong and focus on the right, and what the right can even do. My lack of confidence or lack of faith are empowered by what God can do, in my life and even in the life of those with whom I disagree, or worse- those on whom I might wish 'a barbeque.' 

Hope. Real, true Hope. 'Hope... believes all things.' 'Lord I believe, Help my unbelief.' 

What words do I live by? 

The Thrill of Hope ~ Bookshelf No. 4 ~ December 2020

Almost every Christmas, I pick up a book I've had my eye on and read it cover to cover, reading until I can't hold my eyes open, avoiding every  unnecesary task, praying no one will notice. This Christmas has brought me to a second title by Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden. It falls right in my favorite novel genre, historical fiction, specifically World War II. To me there is nothing more engaging   and encouraging than reading about the numerous resistance efforts throughout Europe,  the hope on both sides,  and the people who lived and endured the war between the Axis Powers and Allied Forces. 

Winter Garden moves slowly into the historic portion of the story. The main characters are living with someone who survived, but bears the results of living through such a time.  For-shadowing of a very layered story tells the reader, 'She hasn't enough of herself left to share.' And  in another part of the story (no spoiler's here), families of 'criminals,' 'can recognize other families of criminals. They move like victims, with their shoulders hunched and their eyes cast downward, trying to make themselves smaller, unremarkable. Unnoticeable.' 

Tragic is not a word I would ever use to describe my life. But in every persons life there are moments that are classically tragic in nature. The expectation and  hope are pitted against  mortal odds unsurmountable. This post is not a tale of 'done-me-wrongs ,' but relatable moments, without stories that cast a martyrial shadow. This one is more humorous. 

Eric and I became 'us' when we moved to Louisiana. We knew no one, and no one knew us. As much as we loved everything about Louisiana, I learned to be realistic there, make some compromises, and even drop my expectations. We learned to depend upon each other more fully, even if we didn't need to. My mind looks back to Uncle Mike meeting us in the Atlanta airport, because he could get through security in uniform, when we adopted Henry from California. Our family is ALWAYS there for us. Yet everyone has some dark passages that no one knows nor is it easy to share. The Lord only knows how much I would need resilience in future days, but I can most humorously  convey this with a story  about my church attire. 

I LOVE sweaters . Textiles, yes, but knitted cables,  the yarn, the feel of wool. Love is the only word. But wool and Louisiana do not mix.  Once while sweating through church, a kind sister told me afterwards to ,  'Give it up. Just buy you some Christmas Sandals and summer clothes in fall and winter colors and move on.' Best advice I think I've ever received. 

I have not spent all of my life in the South. I did a spell in Ohio, learning to appreciate snow, ice, and that cold which cannot be shaken. I learned how to skate on a pond, by myself in subzero weather. I wore long underwear to school from October to April, and we selected our Easter parkas just like my kindred sister from Louisiana  advised us to -- adapt, compromise,  have realistic expectations. But there was something about those sweaters, something in my psyche that insisted it was what one should wear, how one should prepare, what expectation, nee- advent- should look like. 

Within the book, Winter Garden, there are just such moments displayed in what seems to be senility, but the one challenged by change and true tragedy is remembering how to  cope and how to survive.  Her actions seem as crazy as wearing a wool sweater in 70 degree weather. She packs food in her overnight bag instead of clothes for the trip.  Her daughter finds packs of butter in her coat pockets. She's always concerned about the cold. And always concerned about food.  

This is my favorite period of history because so many faced what appear to be insurmountable odds. They are faced with starvation, exposure to the elements, and corruption in powerful places. They seldom know who they can trust, and they often suffer some loss that leaves them changed forever. I walk away wondering how would I survive,  measuring up my coping skills. Introspectively, considering my odds. 

Our collective challenges may not seem to look as dire as this on the outside, although 2020 has brought its 'A Game' to the table. But if you were to ask the average person today if they could relate to characters like these in the books, I'd bet they could easily blow your hair back. Those times do come, when something we hoped for doesn't happen, or happen the way we thought it should. That is life. Living fully, engaging with humanity. It would seem 2020  is the year so many find themselves, myself included, moving the bar back, moving the mark lower, when it comes to hopes and dreams. But the surprise has been to feel resilient-- and still feel off balance. 

A couple of years ago, a friend reminded me of good advice. She participates in the trapeze classes here locally- yes, she is boldly 60 years old and exercises with trapeze. But she reminded me as my world was spinning out of control-- 'Find a place on the wall and look for it every time-- find your point of focus.' She was right. Even when the hope is deferred, when they keep moving the goal post, finding that one thing and focusing is the way to survive. 

My reaction to reading this book at the half way point is two-fold. After one of the most tragic moments of revelation, the mother responds to her children when they ask what they should do? How they will go on? Her response is the epic. Live. Adapt, compromise,  have realistic expectations. This is where God feels our pleasure and delight in His creation. Live. Hope boldly with dreams and beliefs in what God has given to us- the blessings. 

Secondly, and most importantly, rely and depend upon the most miraculous Provider. When nothing seems possible, we are brought to our proverbial knees. It is then that the cosmic Christ is revealed from cradle to grave, the Father 'that sees' is beheld, and we are able to not 'lay aside the cares of this world' but handle them with a strength that comes from a supernatural and miraculous point of focus - God the Trinity. All of our messiness is doable, nothing cannot be handled by the One who began his mortal life in a manger found  in a dirty stable. And there is no wound or loss our God cannot heal with the never changing Hope He has set in our hearts- if only we will embrace it. 

Nativity from Jerusalem ~ Gift from Dad, 1996

Love Hopes All Things~ Bookshelf No. 2 ~December 2020

 In  March, I read  'The Secret Garden. ' While I   am well acquainted with Frances Hodgson Burnett's,  ' A Little Princess, ' I had never read the famous story of a secret garden. So I put myself to it, to be rewarded by such passages like this one  I stumbled upon again just  yesterday: 

 'I'll tell you who would put you in the humour, perhaps,' said Mary, reflecting. She felt as if she would like this to be settled one way or the other.  'I believe Dickon would. He's always talking about live things. He never talks about dead things or things that are ill. He's always looking up in the sky to watch birds flying - or looking down at the earth to see something growing. He has such round blue eyes and they are so wide open with looking about. And he laughs such a big laugh with his wide mouth - and his cheeks are as red - as red as cherries.'  She pulled her stool nearer to the sofa and her expression quite changed at the remembrance of the wide curving mouth and wide open eyes. 'See here,' she said. 'Don't let us talk about dying; I don't like it. Let us talk about living Let us talk and talk about Dickon. and then we will look at your pictures.' .... It was the best thing she could have said.' 

 Last year, I read along with a writing group, Stephen King's , 'On Writing; A Memoir of the Craft.' I have no need of any of his other books, and only one movie,  based upon one of his works of fiction, 'The Shawshank Redemption.' The story of Andy Dufresne, who is falsely accused of a murder and sentenced to life in Shawshank Penitentiary, delivers us an opportunity to meet 'Red' who is also a 'lifer.' Red shares in the story how he would guide his younger self, who made a poor choice,  suffering the exponentially awful consequence of  prison life in the 1950's. But his philosophy is one I hold sacred: 'Get busy living, or get busy dyin.'  Red and Dickon have much in common.  Red found ways to look for things to hope for, meaningful ways to keep himself occupied and invested himself in a safe group of friends and collegues. Dickon lived with his family in rowdy houseful of children, but found his way to a garden to work and make things beautiful, even without employment or even the ability to read. Meaningful work in a garden which is the epitome of hope. 

So today, I'll put up the Christmas tree. I'll finish the decorating and complete the tasks at hand. Our tree is one that Mom passed along to me- one now whose 'pre-lit' lights no longer work, but have been clipped and replaced with strands of white lights for each layer. I've narrowed down the ornaments to one  large box. I'll put a few strands of icicle lights on the outside of the house and we will embrace December looking  up to the stars and down to the dirt lying quietly until Spring returns. We will live with a confident hope that there is life worth living- and we will be busy living it. 

If you are Christmas shopping and books are on your list, I highly recommend Goldberry Books, and independent Bookshop, opened in November 2020~~ the essence of hope in 2020. A beautiful anniversary copy of 'The Secret Garden' illustrated by Tasha Tudor would be an amazing gift for someone special on your Christmas List. 

'Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things...' 

         

Spray Paint Might Save the World ~ Bookshelf No. 1 November 2020

  If we've never met, you may think I'm a bit shallow. But once you run back through a few posts, you'll  realize I'm not shallow, just layered. Picture the layers of the ancient city of Troy, Trojan horse and all. I  don't pretend to be as capable as many of my peers. But I have my skills, like-- I can see through a pile of fabric anywhere and spot the block printed French cotton a mile away. Yup. I'm a #wickedthrifter over at #littlebirdtextiles

So when I say,  spray  paint might save the world, take heed.   I was old(er) when I had kids, through adoption, and much like that, nothing has gone according to plan, in my unique universe, or in the world at large. And there is nothing a good dose of green (my preferred color) spray paint can't redeem.  For example, the basket from Goodwill that will hold a variety of things. It could have been trashed- yet, for .99, I have a new catch-all basket to make my activities more efficient as well as colorfully encouraging. 

Before you start to trip out on Goodwill--  I'm also a capitalist. Do you know the  cashiers at your Goodwill? I do. Somebody had a good idea. Donate stuff. Employ people to organize and shelve it. Sell it. 'But what about those bad folks up at the top who make the big paychecks?' Those folks are the risk takers who invest in the rehab of the big-box stores that nobody uses anymore(our local store was a Best Buy.) So now, the once empty big-box store employs folks who work hard. Often they are folks who might not find a job elsewhere. And you know the bonus? They actually have an employment office in the store. Dang. Can this get any better? While I didn't look at the yearly statement for this company, I don't lose sleep over it, because I know the lady who checked me out today, who often shares her happy experience with me, and she will receive a paycheck in a timely manner. And that was enough for me. I left with a .99 basket that is now green that will  hold my dishtowels(I have many green baskets), while I make brownies for my kids.  And I will think happy thoughts about the redeemed item that was not put into a landfill.  Yup. Even recycled.  And even more about the happy lady who has meaningful work. 

Sounds like a win-win to me.  #green #recycle  #community

Which of course leads me to a book. It would seem that such an insignificant experience might not be worth the recounting in such a jaded, confused time in our world. Yet, for literally centuries people have been waking to the same sunshine to decide how they will live out their day. I have a favorite author whose books don many of my shelves. Alexander McCall Smith. He is my go-to for book recommendations because he introduced me to Mme Precious Rmwatswe. I believe everyone should know her. She determined herself to be the proprietor of  The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency and therefore, Smith wrote at  least 15 books about her and her community. Her stories are filled with gentle appreciation for her modern culture in Africa, with a regular glance backward to her most noble father who is 'late,'(passed.) (My own introdueced me to these stories.<3) But one I found on my own after meeting her(and her writer) was of another unique period of time and is a stand alone worth every minute. La's Orchestra Saves the World,* asks exactly the question that every person must ask themselves when they wake each day. Is what I do really meaningful, does it matter, and consequently, do I matter. I love the action she undertakes to  move forward in an uncertain time. In a twist of irony, I have had a student who plays French horn, a featured instrument in the book, and a very unique instrument, one that if played well takes one to another level of orchestra and appreciation of the world of music. He, my student, is that type of person and is equal in exceptionality as the instrument of his choosing. His mother commented one day, after lesson number 595, about whether the  playing of the French horn really could save the world-- and I replied, I believed so. For it is is the learning by heart 'something' which trains our minds to seek excellence-- yes, to sense that traction of success, and therefore propels us to hope. And having hope is the essence of that which will truly save the world. 

The books I've mentioned have links to Goldberry Books, an independent bookstore in Concord, North Carolina. The proprietors have opened a brick and mortar store I can't wait to visit. Visit their link to support small business! Their opening in Fall 2020 is the definition of Hope! <3 

 

"How are all those resolutions you made going?" November 2019

Well into the fourth quarter of 2019, I've been asked about my book purchases, my diet and my exercise. While there were a few other commitments that I quietly added in January, those are the top three. I am reminded about my self challenge, 

"A Year from Now, You'll Wish You'd Started Today." 

So instead of counting regrets, this year I'm counting accomplishments. Instead of stepping into December with panic and dread, I'm getting creative with my shop and adding students to the schedule. 

Instead of eating the whole box of cookies and camping on the sofa indoors, I'm adjusting my thinking to an intentional way of living. 

Intentional living allows for the slip-up, but not living in denial. 

So, what worked? 

I began to move. Literally. I started walking regularly at least 2 miles at a time, and at all times of the day. Weather is only a circumstance, and if perceived negatively, I reminded myself that, 

'The Obstacle is the Way,' 

and,

 'What doesn't kill ya, makes you stronger.' 

I started listening to different voices. A mantra can create deep ruts in the mind, so I actively started to listen to life affirming 'voices.' Podcasts, friends, family who 'got' me and 'support' my effort to succeed and live life fully. While the negative voices don't always go away-including our own negative thoughts, and when we proactively choose to listen to fulfilling life affirming conversation, we are less likely to buy into destructive lies we might have once told ourselves. 

A year ago, I actively reunited myself to Edie Wadsworth at Life In Grace. I was watching her Facebook live videos in December. These became the fundamentals to her Life Mentoring School. I started taking these classes in September 2019, and couldn't be more thankful. 

My friend Sondra has successfully participated in Athens Fit Body Boot Camp for a year, and with her genuine giving spirit, she has helped and encouraged me through a 10 Week Challenge. 

Yup ~10 Weeks.

 I found muscles I forgot I had. The physicality of the class combined with the amazing guidance and encouragement to do HARD things set me up for another facet of change. I actually WANTED to go to the gym. My body feels better and my dependence on stress buffering agents has decreased. Clearer thinking and confidence were the bi-products I needed and achieved. 

I became accountable to myself. Instead of looking for loopholes, I began look the path of resistance square in the eye. This sounds counter intuitive, but it is usually where the problem is, and once the problem is conquered (or accepted by looking at it instead of avoiding it), the path is clear to do hard things. Once you do the hard things, life seems to open up to allow what is deeply fulfilling. 

Books. Well, I haven't stopped buying, but my number is well under that of years past and almost exclusively, I buy from the FOL (Friends of the Library) book room. This year, I didn't even go to the BIG sale. I know..... did you just feel a gust of spooky wind roll through?? Instead, I've been utilizing a library app on my phone to access books more effectively. I actually used this for teaching this fall, which was one of my 'loopholes' (excuses for retail therapy) I've abused this greatly in the past. 

One must find the balance between reading about life and learning about life AND ACTUALLY LIVING IT. 

Which brings me to a favorite book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, A Year of Food Life, by Barbara Kingsolver. I  couldn't have enjoyed this book more. It reminds me of my most recent foodie book, Whole30. The only way to go through a life change is to embrace it head on and with humor. The constructive discussion about how to achieve a goal spreads graciously over like foliage into all areas of life. It's a beautiful insight into one author's world, and enlightens us into the authenticity of her work, Prodigal Summer. 

So what take-away did I share with a local-bestie today? 

"Do It Scared." 

Once confidence and wisdom are on the mend it's important to try. State things in the affirmative. Move forward. 

All Mockingbird and No Black Ships Before Dawn ~August 2019

Middle School Language Arts will begin this semester with one of the mysteries in my education: The Iliad. So I'm employing my first 'career ideology' -- teach only up to what grade you know. At 10 years old, I figured I was safe with 3rd grade math. So, I'm using that plan and sticking with what I believe will share the story of 'The Illiad,' and then a few poetic passages from the original transalations. These kids don't know how lucky they are! Dan Stevens is the most recent favorite narrator we'll listen to, and we'll be reading, Black Ships Before Dawn, by Rosemary Sutcliff. The story is simplified, a few of the more adult themes are toned down, but the epic is clear and readily available to a wider range of capabilities and literary foundations. I'm doing my best to keep up with the live stream today from Roman Roads Read Aloud, 'Homer's Iliad.' 
How did I get this far and not have read the 'Big 3,' Ancient Epics? 
Well, could it have any connection to a bit of a scattered highschool experience? Dad would apologize now, but the truth is, I think I got the better part. In highschool, I remember lying on our divan (the long formal sofa we inherited from Grandma Bassett,) and literally looking over my shoulder as I read To Kill A Mockingbird, by Harper Lee. I remember when Scout was stumbling in the dark in her ham costume, all the while Mr. Ewell was stalking after she and Jem. Please, I read all night. 
I really don't remember reading that many books as a kid. But I do remember reading A Little Princess, by Francis Hodges Burnett. I imagined more than once what that must have been like, to live in an attic, cold in the winter, hot in the summer. Of course, I didn't have to imagine much. The year I read that, we lived in a farm house in Ohio. My brother, Drake, and I could see our breath in our bedrooms. I believe he actually scratched frost off the wall of an early morning. Dad, again, would say he had regrets, and I would say in reply, how I would have never learned to ice skate on a pond in sub-zero weather, at the horse farm across the street, had he not pursued his education in such a cold climate. I would have never had the the exact experience of sharing a library with amazing childhood friends, as well as a lunch table in highschool with my book buddies who read and munched our pizza and green bean lunches in the cafeteria. 
While my Dad was studying ancient Hebrew, I was learning about medieval history in Mrs. Shield's Honors World History class. I really don't know how I made it into that class, except my advisors felt sorry for me and thought I needed to stick with my smart friends. But Dad made a functioning catapult for with me, and I learned chainmail wasn't a folded middle school note shared with multiple friends. 
I love knowing a book by heart. I can 'book/chapter/verse' many a tale or saga. But the thrill of sharing a new-to-me-and-you book with a student-- *that* is exciting. Maybe one day, students in this class will dive into The Eagle of the Ninth or King Arthur  with a new eye for reading with an unknown story, remembering all the while  the Trojan Horse and reading  Black Ships Before Dawn, with crazy Mrs. Sherman. 
What I've found only at age 50+ ~~ 
'Reading is Posession.' 
Now I can't stop. And I have no plans to try. 

Rabbit Trails-Round-up ~ April 2019 #NotAFool

  One of the things I've learned and embraced this year, and about which my good friend, Leslie, has faithfully reminded me: 

Without a plan,

 good intentions are just wishes. 

I accept my limitations dictated by responsibilities, but nothing we want to actually happen or change will unless we are disciplined. This means being disciplined when we'd rather eat the donut, rather skip the exercise, skip the next chapter, plan to 'stay up late and get caught up,' or the classic-- leave the laundry on the steps knowing someone else will take it up stairs. 

So in honor of April 2019, It's time to turn a corner and get back on the path of resistance because we can do things of value that are hard. Just having a positive attitude and calling fear a liar doesn't drive out the lies. 

April #NotAFool Rabbit-Trail-Round-Up: 

1. I will #readthenextchapter  of After Virtue (chapter 8) to keep in sync with all the other 38 readers on Marco Polo, and give my self grace that it is THE HARDEST BOOK ever written in the modern English language. 

2. In the spirit Jonathon Rogers wrote this post, I will #putonthetennisskirt and call myself a writer. While there are a few posts that you may read here at this blog that demonstrate skill, there are reems of notebooks not published, full of characters and places I wish to improve and share. In fact, I may even join one of his writing classes. I'm wondering if my friend Meredith might find this interesting? (wink;)

3. I will get real about #whole30. Stressors creep up. Life happens. And then the addictive foods take over. While I would love for our kitchen to be completely clean and  healthy, my success doesn't depend on another's dedication or lack thereof. Eric and I now regularly walk *together* and take the opportunity to talk about life. My goal is to join with friends who are putting health up front as a priority. Whole 30 has opened some doors to new ways of thinking and dealing with life. It really does just *start* with food.

I think we can really only grasp three ideas at a time, but I'm finding ways to literally and figuratively put the spill-over on the shelf until time, resources and opportunity are in the works. But I don't want to look back and wonder what would have happened if only... 
What's on your agenda? What are your goals? 
What are your big three for the next three months? 

December 2018 ~ #whole30 #ihike2019 #lifetimemeds #readthebooksihave

Before the Christmas rush was really on, I had already decided some things would change-- this year. Of course, folks have thought I was crazy to start a #whole30 diet in December. Who does some thing like this?? This is the season of indulgence and all good things. But just like the book says, no time like the present. And then there's this constant reminder: 

A Year from Now, 

You'll Wish You Started Today

So I started. I've documented everything. Every. Thing. 

I even had to visit my GP, and was able to brag. I told her I was actually looking forward to seeing her in March to see my bloodwork. 

I don't  (but that's for another post..) know exactly what pushed me, but I know hearing about someone's medical cost for things that could be prevented with early(ier) life changes in diet and lifestyle made a huge impact. 
I just don't want to live like that. I want to live. Fully. In a way that honors God and supports my family, not weighs it down. 
I've been watching Heidi Scovel hike this year, and have decided I'll set a real goal. #ihike2019 is the code for my present count of 0/52. Why should I wait for a doctor to prescribe what we already know? 
I talk to my BFF almost everyday and for some years she's been talking about Whole 30. She recommended reading 
'It Starts with Food,'  
I read it. And jumped in. All the way.
 I've been successful, with my weaknesses right at the forefront of my plan. No compromises. It's been almost perfect. And I can say, I'll keep up most of it after I'm done. I've never felt better in my life. I don't want to go back. I have 48.5 more years to go to get to 100, and after reading this article today, I think I can make it. Why shouldn't I? The gardening I plan to do to support this diet should surely work! Not to mention fresh eggs! 

One of my 5 chickens as of December 2018.

 Gardens including an asparagus bed ready for winter. 

My chicken's egg on the left. Store bought on the right. 

Over the last year, (and continuing into the next,) I have been reading many books in preparation for teaching Advanced American History IEW Writing in the fall 2019. And I believe I have all I need for that endeavor, so I made another decision. 
This year: I will buy no new books. None. (This is where to lay bets folks.)
I will #readthebooksihave 
I gathered up some reeeally good ones in the last year. One in particular is a great place to start for the upcoming new year. 

Shannan Martin holds nothing back. Should any of us, when it comes to loving our fellow man? loving God? 

2019 will be an interesting year for sure. I will certainly begin counting my #lifetimemeds again, and enjoying hobbies that feed my soul. 

What are your goals for 2019? 

Remember~A year from now, you'll wish you started today! 

'He's Not Lazy: Empowering Your Son to Believe in Himself'

Each year our family seems to evolve in ways I never anticipated. Being a parent and a mother takes on a nuance I didn't expect. I devour audio books while scribbling notes on any loose page. Podcast networks are my new best friend. While a face to face friend is always welcome fellowship, sometimes it takes someone to cut through to the details that are wrecking your home-life.
Lazy is a 'charged' word. So you can imagine when I saw this book title across one of my most trusted Podcaster's playlist: 'He's Not Lazy: Empowering Your Son to Believe In Himself.' 
Run. Don't walk. If this made you stop and pause, and consider the son you've struggled with in any regard, grab this book. I listened on Audible, but it is available at most retailers such as Amazon.
The layers of challenges that are on our sons in todays modern world are astounding. And they just can't 'run away' the same way our grandfather's did at 14 or 15. They are stuck in a world of technology that may be important to them in one way, but it also monitors their every movement. This leaves them with little freedom to become the man they are trying to become-- on their own.
The monitoring is the challenge- the www is not helpful, so parents (this parent) again are 'schooled' in language that will communicate to our sons we believe in them, without a false approach to the over-indulged 'self-esteem' movement.
I'm going to include the link to the Podcast from 'The Art of Manliness,' which first introduced me to the book. It's a quick synopsis that left me ready for more. I haven't felt this empowered about empowering my son in a long while. I hope you will find it equally as encouraging.

September 2018

Books. Books seem to multiply in my house.  But as I've recently been following the 30 day challenge from Edie Wadsworth at LifeinGrace, I am reminded that I've been decluttering and discarding all along. This year when I went to the library book sale, I had a list, and stuck to it. My discards were already gone and shelf space was ready. 

This summer I read The Great Gatsby which, I must say, was wonderful. It met and surpassed my expectations. It inspired me to consider other great books and begin to branch out more in classic literature.*edit: A Podcast at Circe Institute- Closereads - has included 'The Great Gatsby' in its list of books! Fantastic! They invited Adam Andrews to participate and it was illuminating!

The summer came on the heels of a trip to Louisville, KY to the Circe Regional Conference. It too was amazing. Hearing Adam Andrews share a reading from Flannery O'Connor was spectacular. 

I was finishing the Wendell Berry selection, Hannah Coulter  with Close Reader's abroad while trekking right up I-65 through Kentucky. It was glorious. Martin Cothran was a particularly interesting presenter as I was very unfamiliar with him and his work. It was all so good. 

Upon returning home, I began to truly delve into Norms and Nobility.