Already this season I am unapologetically tired of being cold. And, it's only December 6th.
This afternoon I hosted in a seasonal gallery in Ridge Spring SC. I am in awe of the talent in this quiet, rural part of the world. The items on display and for sale ranged from painted goards to watercolors, from stained glass and mosaics to photographs and jewelry, from collage to pen and ink. It took me about a quarter of an hour to move through the room, appreciating each item.
But, the gallery is in an old school. I like to say it's a building that looks like a school is supposed to look. A flawless way of dating myself, I might add. The building is owned by Ridge Spring and has no heat. The temperature when I arrived at 1:30 this afternoon was in the low 50s, the sun shone through thin clouds. It was warmer out than in. Standing on the porch to watch a train move through town provided several minutes of relief.
By 3:00, however, the cloud cover had thickened and any reassurance the sun, weak as it was, had provided dissipated. A space heater warmed the spot where I was to sit, but not well. Walking the oval pathway through the gallery did little to build up internal steam. I was cold. Four o'clock and closing time's coming was such a relief.
I own Polartec outerwear and LL Bean silk underware. That will just have to be my gallery uniform. Unstylish and warm. It beats today's well-dressed but frosty alternative.
PS You do know that come summer I'll complain about the heat too, don't you?
06 December 2008
05 December 2008
Some days are simply better than others. Today the weather was not particularly nice. Thought it didn't rain, the sun was pale. It never really warmed up. And, more of the things I'd intended to do during the day are still undone than those I managed to check off the list. But, Tal and I went for a walk after I got home from my stint in the art co-op and supper turned out well. There isn't anything I can put my finger on. I was simply a good day.
One of the prodominant features of this day, however, has been a fifty-one year old memory. I couldn't say what time it was when the call came. Mom and Dad (Mommy and Daddy then) were gone; Grandma Johnson was with Joyce and me. I've tried remembering where the telephone was. Outside Mom and Dad's room, near the kitchen door? Was there a telephone? Had to have been. I remember Grandma taking the call. But maybe it wasn't a telephone to the outside world; there may have still been only one of those at Brookgreen. Maybe what she answered was the wooden, crank telephone (magnetophone?) used within Brookgreen.
Not that the telephone itself matters at all. What Joyce and I learned from our grandmother was that we had a brother. I'm not sure either of us knew what that meant and I know we were unprepared for how another sibling was going to change our young world. But, the moment of hearing the news and the extraordinary woman who delivered it will be in my memory both long and vividly. The fifth of December 1957 was a very good day. And, having a brother -- today even more than then -- is one of live's best joys.
I've loved thinking about all this today. What the weather did or didn't do was inconsequential. What I had to do and didn't finish was less than important. My fifty-one year old memory -- "you two have a little brother" was all it took to make this a better than normal day.
One of the prodominant features of this day, however, has been a fifty-one year old memory. I couldn't say what time it was when the call came. Mom and Dad (Mommy and Daddy then) were gone; Grandma Johnson was with Joyce and me. I've tried remembering where the telephone was. Outside Mom and Dad's room, near the kitchen door? Was there a telephone? Had to have been. I remember Grandma taking the call. But maybe it wasn't a telephone to the outside world; there may have still been only one of those at Brookgreen. Maybe what she answered was the wooden, crank telephone (magnetophone?) used within Brookgreen.
Not that the telephone itself matters at all. What Joyce and I learned from our grandmother was that we had a brother. I'm not sure either of us knew what that meant and I know we were unprepared for how another sibling was going to change our young world. But, the moment of hearing the news and the extraordinary woman who delivered it will be in my memory both long and vividly. The fifth of December 1957 was a very good day. And, having a brother -- today even more than then -- is one of live's best joys.
I've loved thinking about all this today. What the weather did or didn't do was inconsequential. What I had to do and didn't finish was less than important. My fifty-one year old memory -- "you two have a little brother" was all it took to make this a better than normal day.
04 December 2008
Discipline is discipline
Last evening’s news and this morning’s newspaper brought more reports of the big three automakers and their plight. The company representatives are making their way to Washington again this week, their detailed proposals for how they will use the funds they want Congress to appropriate having been sent ahead of them. Thirty four billion dollars is hard for me to understand. For this trip these executives are travelling in hybrid vehicles produced by the companies they lead. Too bad they didn’t think of that on their own and make that choice in the first place. The private jets of their last jaunt to Washington were an unfortunate mistake.
I think most people are divided on the question of giving the auto manufacturers the funding they seek. On one hand millions of jobs are at stake, those employed in industries supporting the manufacture of American vehicles reaching far beyond Detroit. On the other the companies clearly have been badly run, leadership short-sighted and greedy, labor unrealistic about what is equitable and what the industry can actually bear.
Beyond that simplistic assessment, I think most people want Congress to make demands of the automotive industry, requiring self-regulation, tauter business plans, more concern for the country as a whole, increased investment in more earth-friendly vehicles. And, I think most folks want their representatives in Washington to express on their behalf the disgust and disappointment they feel. I fear, however, that Congress will not be able to take that route – the high road, so to speak.
It’s hard to demand restraint from one quarter when the quarter we inhabit is not above reproach. Alarming reports on the associations of Michigan congressmen and from where their comfortable millions have come are probably a mere hint of the situation in which manyt of our elected officials sitting in judgment of the auto industry find themselves. When you’re on the take, you can’t very well demand something different from another involved in the same questionable behavior. Members of Congress, for fear of being called to account themselves, are probably not going to do or say what really needs to be done or said.
But, before I allow myself to travel too far along this cozy road of self-righteousness, my “how could theys” fervent and incredulous, I’m going to call myself down. Tal made a banana pudding this morning to take with him to a family gathering in Aiken. A pudding doesn’t take a full box of the Nabisco Nilla wafers he prefers. The leftovers are in the pantry. Were I to put those extra cookies in a bowl here on the counter next to the computer, could I retrain myself and eat only one serving, that being 11 cookies. (Yes, I know that statistic.) Could I manage to have just a couple? Or, would I, true to form, not stop until all the cookies were history? No one would ever know. Tal wouldn’t notice they were all gone. What would it matter?
Admittedly, cookies are a little thing and the auto industry is a big thing. But discipline is discipline. If I cannot discipline myself in little things, should I assume I can expect more of another? Yes, we as individuals, as Americans, as constituents, as those who elected a congress to speak for us have to make some decision where the automotive industry is concerned and make that decision soon. But, our self-righteousness is out of place. We are all players in this mess. If I’m going to say “here’s where you are wrong,” I’m also going to have to self-aware enough to add an “and here’s where I am guilty.” While we cannot, any single one of us, effect much or any immediate change in Detroit or in Congress, we most surely can in ourselves. And, frankly, what a feat that would be.
I think most people are divided on the question of giving the auto manufacturers the funding they seek. On one hand millions of jobs are at stake, those employed in industries supporting the manufacture of American vehicles reaching far beyond Detroit. On the other the companies clearly have been badly run, leadership short-sighted and greedy, labor unrealistic about what is equitable and what the industry can actually bear.
Beyond that simplistic assessment, I think most people want Congress to make demands of the automotive industry, requiring self-regulation, tauter business plans, more concern for the country as a whole, increased investment in more earth-friendly vehicles. And, I think most folks want their representatives in Washington to express on their behalf the disgust and disappointment they feel. I fear, however, that Congress will not be able to take that route – the high road, so to speak.
It’s hard to demand restraint from one quarter when the quarter we inhabit is not above reproach. Alarming reports on the associations of Michigan congressmen and from where their comfortable millions have come are probably a mere hint of the situation in which manyt of our elected officials sitting in judgment of the auto industry find themselves. When you’re on the take, you can’t very well demand something different from another involved in the same questionable behavior. Members of Congress, for fear of being called to account themselves, are probably not going to do or say what really needs to be done or said.
But, before I allow myself to travel too far along this cozy road of self-righteousness, my “how could theys” fervent and incredulous, I’m going to call myself down. Tal made a banana pudding this morning to take with him to a family gathering in Aiken. A pudding doesn’t take a full box of the Nabisco Nilla wafers he prefers. The leftovers are in the pantry. Were I to put those extra cookies in a bowl here on the counter next to the computer, could I retrain myself and eat only one serving, that being 11 cookies. (Yes, I know that statistic.) Could I manage to have just a couple? Or, would I, true to form, not stop until all the cookies were history? No one would ever know. Tal wouldn’t notice they were all gone. What would it matter?
Admittedly, cookies are a little thing and the auto industry is a big thing. But discipline is discipline. If I cannot discipline myself in little things, should I assume I can expect more of another? Yes, we as individuals, as Americans, as constituents, as those who elected a congress to speak for us have to make some decision where the automotive industry is concerned and make that decision soon. But, our self-righteousness is out of place. We are all players in this mess. If I’m going to say “here’s where you are wrong,” I’m also going to have to self-aware enough to add an “and here’s where I am guilty.” While we cannot, any single one of us, effect much or any immediate change in Detroit or in Congress, we most surely can in ourselves. And, frankly, what a feat that would be.
Jesus had a little something to say in this whole matter:
“One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much. If then you have not been faithful in the unrighteous wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful in that which is another’s, who will give you that which is your own? “ Luke 16:10-13b
Well-said. By the way, all the Nillas are still in the pantry. I didn't try the "on the counter" test.
03 December 2008
Out on a limb
The deed is done. Before giving in to sleep last night I printed a photograph on something other than copy paper or card stock. Regulation HP photo paper. A first. Today I put that black and white image in a black frame and packaged it for mailing. Tomorrow I will drive it to the post office in Edgefield and send it on its way to someone who will receive it as a gift. Another first.
I'm embarrassed to say it's been a hard process. Seems making photographs is one thing. Sharing them -- putting them "out there" -- is another. Sort of like being out on a limb, a surprisingly limber one with a tornado in the forecast. That sounds rather melodramatic. But, it feels pretty accurate.
Precarious is OK.
I'm embarrassed to say it's been a hard process. Seems making photographs is one thing. Sharing them -- putting them "out there" -- is another. Sort of like being out on a limb, a surprisingly limber one with a tornado in the forecast. That sounds rather melodramatic. But, it feels pretty accurate.
Precarious is OK.
02 December 2008
Christmas cactus
In the rainy days since returning home from the Thanksgiving holiday I have busied myself creating a Christmas card to use this season. Having decided against a family photograph (all of us, including the dogs, need haircuts), I went back in the Elements 6 catalog to a series of images of our Christmas cactus which bloomed shortly after we brought it in from its summer residing in a shady flower bed.
When I produced a single sheet mock-up showing two cards, one with the photograph in color and other in black and white, Tal requested that we use the color image. A good choice, I think. But, I 'm pleased enough with the black and white to share it here.
The printer in Batesburg informed me late today that the cards would be ready to pick up tomorrow after lunch. I'd best get to finalizing the mailing list.
When I produced a single sheet mock-up showing two cards, one with the photograph in color and other in black and white, Tal requested that we use the color image. A good choice, I think. But, I 'm pleased enough with the black and white to share it here.
The printer in Batesburg informed me late today that the cards would be ready to pick up tomorrow after lunch. I'd best get to finalizing the mailing list.
01 December 2008
Twenty five windows
I've not been forgotten.
Every year I served the Church of the Ridge an Advent calendar appeared in the mail, arriving before Thanksgiving, sent sort of anonymously by a parishioner and someone who over time became a dear friend. It was always sent directly from the bookstore at an Episcopal church in Augusta GA with no enclosures, no name, addressed in unfamiliar handwriting by someone on the store's staff.
But, sleuth that I am -- actually, a pretty fair listener, I heard this man say during a party that that his favorite slice of the Christmas holiday pie was the Advent calendar. Introduced to him during this childhood by an elderly relative, he'd taken up the practice of giving them away in large numbers. And, with that tidbit my benefactor's identity came to light.
Just over two weeks ago our mail included a card from the post office alerting us to an envelope too large for our mailbox. A special trip to Edgefield post office. The familiar mailing label. Inside a two-layered rectangle of cardboard with a picture and 25 windows. I'm still on the list!
This year's calendar is the most lovely and substantial of all those I’ve received. It's also rather understated, something of a rarity, most that I've seen bordering on garish and prone to cast glitter everywhere. The nativity scene on this calendar includes the magi, shepherds and sheep, in addition to the holy family and their patient-looking donkey, the surroundings subdued, but luminous, in golds, deep reds and shades of grey. It's a restful scene, one I cannot help but hold up to what I see in my imagination of the post-stampede scene in that Long Island Wal-Mart. How did we get from there to here?
So today, door number one. And -- today and for 24 more days, a reminder to be calm, to treasure every breath no matter that any particular moment holds, to be present and mindful.
And, perhaps selfishly, the sweet knowledge that I’ve not been forgotten.
Every year I served the Church of the Ridge an Advent calendar appeared in the mail, arriving before Thanksgiving, sent sort of anonymously by a parishioner and someone who over time became a dear friend. It was always sent directly from the bookstore at an Episcopal church in Augusta GA with no enclosures, no name, addressed in unfamiliar handwriting by someone on the store's staff.
But, sleuth that I am -- actually, a pretty fair listener, I heard this man say during a party that that his favorite slice of the Christmas holiday pie was the Advent calendar. Introduced to him during this childhood by an elderly relative, he'd taken up the practice of giving them away in large numbers. And, with that tidbit my benefactor's identity came to light.
Just over two weeks ago our mail included a card from the post office alerting us to an envelope too large for our mailbox. A special trip to Edgefield post office. The familiar mailing label. Inside a two-layered rectangle of cardboard with a picture and 25 windows. I'm still on the list!
This year's calendar is the most lovely and substantial of all those I’ve received. It's also rather understated, something of a rarity, most that I've seen bordering on garish and prone to cast glitter everywhere. The nativity scene on this calendar includes the magi, shepherds and sheep, in addition to the holy family and their patient-looking donkey, the surroundings subdued, but luminous, in golds, deep reds and shades of grey. It's a restful scene, one I cannot help but hold up to what I see in my imagination of the post-stampede scene in that Long Island Wal-Mart. How did we get from there to here?
So today, door number one. And -- today and for 24 more days, a reminder to be calm, to treasure every breath no matter that any particular moment holds, to be present and mindful.
And, perhaps selfishly, the sweet knowledge that I’ve not been forgotten.
30 November 2008
Welcoming Advent
How can it possibly be Advent again? The beginning of another liturgical year, at least in churches that think in that cyclical, rhythmic way. The beginning of a brief, intentional time of preparation in advance of the feast of the nativity, to the Christmas celebration. Advent is a quiet time for deep introspection, for noticing interior movement, the point being, of course, that we are being made ready to receive what God has to offer.
What I know for myself more strongly with each minute and day is that I need solitude and discipline to discern what it is to which I am I being invited. What there might be for me to do or to be. To borrow Advent’s language, what it is to which I am being invited to give life. It seems the whole pregnancy/giving birth concept belongs not to Mary alone.
For non-Christians and for Christians as well, Christmas is not so much a religious feast as it is a cultural event. In reality, Christmas is an economic phenomenon, that truth made plain in a raw way on black Friday just passed with the death of a Long Island NY Wal-Mart employee, trampled by before-dawn shoppers intent to get their hands on “door buster” deals: $28.00 vacuum cleaners, $69.00 digital cameras, $379.00 laptops. The disconnect between a sweet celebration of God-come-to-earth and humanity’s focus seems fairly complete, shoppers distraught not at the under-foot death in their midst the day after Thanksgiving, but at having to leave the store during its temporary closure.
With that harrowing scene marking Advent’s arrival I cannot help but think that Advent, taken to heart if only in a minimal way, might be a good and beneficial thing, even for those not drawn to organized religion. The invitation to measuring one’s choices and activities in a place of peacefulness might make for a bit of redirection.
The season of Advent reminds me that existence itself is an open-ended prospect. I can wait and observe fretfully and critically or I can wait and observe hopefully and with an air of expectation.
Advent. I welcome it today, glad the cycle has brought it back around.
What I know for myself more strongly with each minute and day is that I need solitude and discipline to discern what it is to which I am I being invited. What there might be for me to do or to be. To borrow Advent’s language, what it is to which I am being invited to give life. It seems the whole pregnancy/giving birth concept belongs not to Mary alone.
For non-Christians and for Christians as well, Christmas is not so much a religious feast as it is a cultural event. In reality, Christmas is an economic phenomenon, that truth made plain in a raw way on black Friday just passed with the death of a Long Island NY Wal-Mart employee, trampled by before-dawn shoppers intent to get their hands on “door buster” deals: $28.00 vacuum cleaners, $69.00 digital cameras, $379.00 laptops. The disconnect between a sweet celebration of God-come-to-earth and humanity’s focus seems fairly complete, shoppers distraught not at the under-foot death in their midst the day after Thanksgiving, but at having to leave the store during its temporary closure.
With that harrowing scene marking Advent’s arrival I cannot help but think that Advent, taken to heart if only in a minimal way, might be a good and beneficial thing, even for those not drawn to organized religion. The invitation to measuring one’s choices and activities in a place of peacefulness might make for a bit of redirection.
The season of Advent reminds me that existence itself is an open-ended prospect. I can wait and observe fretfully and critically or I can wait and observe hopefully and with an air of expectation.
Advent. I welcome it today, glad the cycle has brought it back around.
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