Catching up: Thanksgiving review

Happy Advent!

November flew past in a blast, and now here we are three weeks away from Christmas. My middle schooler has had a countdown on the white board for 100 days. Now we are in the 20s. But in a way, I feel like this year Advent is going to have a slower pace than the weeks that preceded Thanksgiving.  In an effort to spiritually prepare, I am jumping on the "word" bandwagon and giving myself "attention" as a mantra for the month. More specifically: Pay attention to what matters...

So why am I blogging... because I don't want to forget what has passed - it's a way of paying attention to memories and thoughts.

I just posted an entry I started and never finished because I realized I am letting days and weeks pass without giving attention to what is happening or the meaning of it all, if there is any.

A review: Much of November was absorbed with preparing for a presentation on the conversion narrative in David James Duncan's The River Why for the Religion and Lit section at the Pacific Modern Language Association's conference here in San Diego. This is the first academic paper I have presented since grad school and the only at a large conference. It was a learning experience, for sure. I over-researched and over-wrote, so I spent a good chunk of time trying to revise my paper, and in the end, I worried that it was overly heavy on plot summary.  Ah well. I enjoyed a couple of the other essays in my section - particularly one by a friendly instructor from Canada who wrote about "The Good Place" and "Bad Omens" in comparison to early American apocalyptic imagery. She was entertaining and relevant, while a couple of presenters in another panel I attended on Environmental
literature were so esoteric as to be uninteresting. One of them, a former Hillsdale student, wrote about  "The Queering of Marriage" in Wendell Berry's Jayber Crow.  At the end of her paper, which was part of a larger project, I felt like she was throwing in some trendy terms to be relevant, but really was givng a more traditional reading of marriage than her title indicated - queer being a code word for strange, as well as a word used in at least half a dozen other papers listed in the program.

Although I had a few moments where I questioned my sanity, I was glad we said yes to going to Notre Dame a couple days before this conference for a quick trip with some alumni friends who invited us to go to the Navy ball as a last hoorah of our husbands' careers. It was a treat to reconnect with our sons as well as to meet up with some of our former teachers and other friends visiting for the weekend. It is always invigorating to be on campus for a brisk fall weekend. We stayed with other alumni friends who live in an old house they've renovated beautifully.  The weekend sent me into reveries about what our life might look like in a couple - few? - more years when my husband retires from the Navy and we settle somewhere into a house of our own. 

As soon as the conference ended, attentions were turned toward the Thanksgiving trip to my parents' for their golden anniversary celebration and a family reunion Thanksgiving dinner.  I was a bit apprehensive about travel conditions, but we managed to miss most of the weather, and travel went smoothly except for a race through the Dallas airport to catch a connection because our flight was delayed on the last stretch our trip. I almost thought we should amble and try to angle for vouchers, but my husband was pretty sure they wouldn't be forthcoming, so we provided fellow travelers with the spectacle of a largish family, arms and bags akimbo, running through the terminal.

The week in Indiana flew by almost as fast as our run through DFW.  The joys of reconnecting with cousins and aunts and uncles and meeting the new puppy, which was my parents' anniversary gift from my siblings and us, made the days seem short.  My parents named the little black lab puppy Jese, an acronym of the initials of my three siblings and me. In between taking turns cuddling the puppy, our kids had time to play in the woods and drive the Polaris and do most of the fun farm activities they enjoy despite some rain showers and cold weather. Lots of coffee was consumed during conversations lounging on the living room couches in between preparations for Thanksgiving dinner for 30ish people on Thursday and the anniversary party for 60some on Friday.  My mom and dad planned a Mass to renew their vows, since 50 years ago they weren't Catholic and planned their wedding in 2 weeks before my father went to basic training. Their original service was in my mom's living room followed by a punch and cake reception. This time they had a Mass involving many of their progeny and a lunch reception at the parish hall with bbq, dancing, and a delicious cake.  Many of the extended family came back to my parents' house for more conversation, coffee, and more noshing on cookies, leftovers from Thanksgiving, and charcuterie boards happily prepared by the culinary minded teens. 

We ate well all week - lots of good bread, Beltie beef steaks and stew from my parents' cows, root vegetables roasted and mashed and stewed, good salads, and desserts aplenty: the number of pies, cookies, brownies, cakes, candies, ice cream, and whipped cream consumed over the week was astonishing, even by our standards.

Moments of the week that made me especially happy - seeing the 4-7 year old cousins, a gaggle of girls, delight in each other's company and witnessing the teen cousins reconnect, even though it isn't as easy for them as it is for the younger set. The middle group of cousins are almost all boys, and they spent a good deal of the week and their energy outside constructing a fort in the woods. My father may be a bit concerned about the number of saplings they chopped down or the muddy steps they carved into the hill, but it was rewarding to me, who worries about the lack of outside time my kids get in our urban life.  These connections are ones that last a lifetime, as I'm always telling the kids, and it was rewarding to see them nurtured this past week. 

My plan was to attach some photos but they are still on my phone, so they'll have to wait for the next post...

This and that

Here we are almost midway through November, and weatherwise it feels like the fall is just starting. But the first quad term of the fall semester is over, and Halloween, long anticipated, is over - and was an anti-climactic evening. We had loads of trick or treaters, but the kids weren't highly motivated this year. Some friends came over for chili and beer and to keep us company handing out candy. That was the five year old's favorite part. She dressed as Minnie Mouse because a friend from church made her a red and white polka dotted dress that reminder her of Minnie. We had to borrow ears. I am still boycotting Disneyland.

More disturbing: I am supposed to be working on this paper for a conference in mid November, and I only have a few pages done.  For a living, I tell students how to write papers, but I'm having trouble getting started myself.

My inability to get words down on the screen for this conference paper was intensified last week when I spent a couple of days thinking I was fired.  It began because I noticed an email about advising for next semester and realized I hadn't received anything from the department chair about teaching in the spring. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that my class was being cut and my contract allowed to expire. I struggle with discerning whether I am an effective teacher - especially in terms of what the university thinks is an effective teacher. My course evaluations are solidly average.  But I felt things were looking up this term. I had a good group of students who were engaged and conversational in class - a huge difference from my second spring term, when I had a large class that was largely tuned out. I did make a pretty big plea at the beginning of this term to keep laptops put away, and I moved to a text that is not available as an etext, so I think that has helped, as has being in a sunny, large classroom, instead of a dark basement classroom, but a big part of the better participation can be attributed to a few students who are genuinely interested.  So although I have clarified a narrative for the course, I have to give credit to the students for making this term more enjoyable.

At any rate, in my despair that at least the course was taking shape and now I was getting let go, I emailed the department chair.  It turns out he was just behind on scheduling for the spring, and I have been offered a class again.  So I spent a lot of emotional energy being upset about a ghost, a false assumption, a leap of the imagination.

Another situation that remains in limbo is the status of my son's leg.  He injured his knee playing football in September. We had to wait 4 weeks for an MRI and another 2 weeks to see the orthopedist. She confirmed his ACL was torn, as is his meniscus, so he needs surgery. This will be our 3rd son with a torn ACL.  The other two tore theirs playing college rugby. I'm not with rough sports. Now we are waiting for a referral to a pediatric orthopedic surgeon. I'll be happy if this surgery takes place before Christmas, but I have my doubts. The torture will be the 9 month recuperation schedule.

A third distraction: college applications. Sigh. It's a painful process. My daughter is a fine writer, but her essays needed some concrete details and/or anecdotes. She revised. I helped cut words.  I am trying to encourage her to apply to some other schools that I like. She doesn't want to follow in the footsteps of her brothers and wants to stay in southern California, but  I fear she is basing her choices of schools mostly on recommendations from friends.  Here I am out of one side of my mouth saying that the college search process is overwrought with drama and on the other, I am creating drama in my own home. . . 

A fourth distraction: upcoming trips. We have a trip to see our kids and the Navy/Notre Dame game coming up right before a big Thanksgiving trip to Indiana to celebrate my parents' 50th anniversary. Lots of planning to do and lots to get done beforehand.

So now back to it. More to come!

Fun O'Connor reference

Someone shared this link to Variety Magazine's article about a conversation between Bruce Springsteen and Michael Scorsese.  They have some nice things to say about Flannery O'Connor. We're discussing Mystery and Manners at our November book club. It has been some time since I read it.

Here are some highlights from the article:

In their conversation Sunday night at a private Netflix event honoring “Springsteen on Broadway,” Bruce Springsteen and Martin Scorsese spent close to a third of the 45-minute chat discussing their mutual roots in east coast Catholicism and how they’ve both come to terms with a kind of faith. “I think as you get older, what you grow comfortable with is that faith is faith,” Springsteen said. “It’s about all of the mysteries and the answers that you’re never gonna come up with. And I think trying to build it around these concrete answers is vain and humanistic. But if you let it be, that’s where you find a little bit of peace in it. That’s what I’ve found, anyway.” ....

... 

They bonded over their shared love for Catholic literary great Flannery O’Connor, with Springsteen saying that his 1982 album “Nebraska” “was very influenced by Flannery O’Connor stories, and her stories were always filled with the unknowability of God.” Scorsese seemed surprised that Springsteen had not read her collected letters, and urged Springsteen, “Oh, just a few pages a night, every few nights. … I have a quote here from [a letter]…  She said, ‘You arrive at enough certainty to be able to make your way, but it is making it in darkness. Don’t expect faith to clear things up for you. It’s trust, not certainty.’”

“If you’re an artist,” responded Springsteen, “that darkness is always more interesting than the light. It’s nice when you let the light in at the end of something. But I was always interested in, what were the things that didn’t go right? I had a habit: I would drive back through my hometown, and I would do this over and over and over again. And I used to ask myself, why am I coming back here? And I still do. Seventy years old, I still do it. I don’t know if you’re going back to fix things, but there’s so much there that informed your work and your life that it still remains just a rich location. But I always wanted to base the heart of my work in the dark side of things and then find my way. Then you had to earn the light.”

(I looked up the Nebraska reference - He lifts a line from O'Connor's story "A Good Man is Hard to Find" in the song, which is about a mass murderer. You can read "A Good Man' here: http://xroads.virginia.edu/~drbr/goodman.html)  

Interesting that they call out "east coast Catholicism." It would be intriguing to see a study illuminating the differences, which I intuit but don't have time to tease out right now. We have had a busy few weeks. I've been grading papers (Oh but I am an easy grader!), trying to write a paper for a presentation (Oh, but I can't get this thing written!), and reviewing my daughter's college application essays (Oh, I would like to be done with this - what I realize after working with my fourth child in this predicament is that they don't really know how to articulate why they want to go to college nor what they want out of a college education, They don't give it any thought until this point in their lives. This is perhaps primarily a failure on my part and largely a fault of their school that doesn't encourage this kind of thinking, but also a maturity issue. We should be talking about the meaning and purpose of education all along - and I know I've said a thing or two to try to motivate them to do their homework or appreciate their teachers - or deal with mediocre teachers - but it doesn't really stick until they are actually in the process of trying to discern "what next?" So it is a painful process of having to think hard for a few days. 

https://variety.com/2019/music/news/bruce-springsteen-martin-scorsese-talk-netflix-1203206046/

B list fiction

A couple weeks ago I finished Sigrid Undset's Madame Dorthea, published in 1939. I found an old copy at the library while looking for a different book, not out of any intentional desire to read it, although I'm glad I stumbled upon it, even though it one of Undset's lesser known works. I almost turned it in unread, because I had picked up half a dozen other books to read that I didn't finish or skimmed as background reading for my class.  However, once I started it, I was drawn into the Nordic world Undset creates so vividly. It was a welcome escape from sunny, affluent Southern California to the chilly, hardworking, peasant life in Norway - I wasn't sure of the time period - perhaps during the late 18th or 19th century?

Madame Dorthea is the mother of a large family - seven children ranging in age from young teens to infants. The book begins with the mother fearing for the life of her sons who are lost in a snowstorm with their tutor. It turns out that they simply got drunk and lost and eventually found the way to her mother's house a day's journey by sleigh away. But before word of the boys' safety reaches home, their father sets out to find them and is lost himself, despite being a hardy, knowledgeable man.

For weeks, even months, the family hopes the father will return. His loss is particularly tragic to Dorthea because she had had a happy marriage with him after a cold, barren first marriage to a cleric many years her senior. When her first husband dies, Dorthea is able to marry Jorgen, with whom she has created a happy life. He is a manager of a glassworks, so they are well off, without being wealthy, but rich in family blessings.

Eventually, the glassworks must appoint a successor for Jorgen, and the family must begin to recreate their family dynamic. The two oldest boys aren't quite old enough to go off on their own, but a variety of friends help them out, one being a captain in the army who has been exiled because he is having an affair with his housekeeper. At the same time he woos Madame Dorthea. She is flattered by his advances, but unattracted by his failings, telling of a weak will.  Her own will is like iron. She helps nurse his mistress when she falls feverish because of a botched abortion, a dark part of the novel.  Because of the remoteness of the farm and the social ostracism of the captain and the housekeeper, Madame Dorthea seeks help with her nursing from a gypsy healer instead of a doctor.  The housekeeper improves with the herbal remedies and bloodletting of the gypsy, who apparently is also responsible for the abortion, but she eventually dies.  Meanwhile the gypsy offers to tell fortunes and spooks Madame Dorthea, who must confront her own superstitions and fears of the future.

Although the attention of the educated and interesting captain made her reconsider the solidity of her marriage, she seems to realize after this incident what romantic ideals can lead to. In a spirit of returning to the importance of family and marriage, she resolves to return to her mother's village for her brother's wedding. She at first had felt it inappropriate to attend the wedding while in mourning. And she had a mixed relationship with her mother who had forced her into her early unhappy marriage, while proceeding to be wed 4 times herself, each marriage progressively happier apparently.  But Madame Dorthea has had to reflect on love and loss and happiness and decides to reconcile with her mother.

The wedding is a lively event, and it does allow reconciliation and understanding between the mother and daughter, now two experienced women. During the weeklong festivities, the two older boys almost get into a fight over a serving girl and nearly cause a scandal, but eventually they, too, have a coming of age moment where they realize they need each other and a good character in order to survive their straitened circumstances.

In the end the family is making do. Nothing is neatly resolved, but the reader feels tragedy has been endured and survived, and additional tragedy averted.  Unlike the Kristin Lavransdatter trilogy, religion plays a relatively minor role in the narrative, and there were several moments where the plot jumped or characters seemed to behave inconsistently. This may not be Undset's finest novel, but it was an interesting reflection on marital happiness and family ties central to the plot.  Class structure is questioned, but ultimately it isn't rejected. If anything, the social structure is affirmed because it provides standards for civil behavior, although a future where class is less important is hinted at, especially in the character of Dorthea's mother who marries up and down the social ladder, and seems happiest with her working class Sheriff husband.

Undset has a gift for creating a richly imagined setting and allows a peek into a culture that no longer exists.  Her characters are sympathetic despite their flaws, even the alcoholic, womanizing captain and the prophesying gypsy.  I don't begrudge the several hours stolen from a couple evenings spent following the fortunes of Madame Dorthea - hours I might have spent glazing over social media.  Why does a fictional family from a far away time and place seem more real sometimes than the faces on the screen?

Here is a harsh review from Time Magazine in 1940
Madame Dorthea is a study of a bourgeois wife & mother in the early months of widowhood. A really good novelist could have made something of the theme with no sales-trimmings. Madame Undset puts it in the 18th Century, replete with archeological detail, dopes it to the teeth with "colorful," superfluous characters, whips up a spurious suspense, and still is too much of a bourgeois wife & mother to bring it off.
http://content.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,772443,00.html

The power of a smile

"Relax your face!" My high school track coach used to yell this at me during races. I would squint and tighten up my face and make some kind of awful expression. His critique reminded me to let go of the tension, not just in my eyes but in my whole body.  Somehow those words triggered a reaction in my arms and legs, and I'd be able to stride out, stop fighting the pain, cross into the flow zone, and run a better race.

I was remembering this during a recent middle school cross country meet. My eighth grade daughter is running, and this year she is the top 5 or 10 of the meet. She, too, grimaces coming into the finish line. Who doesn't? I think she could run even faster if she put just a little effort into practicing on her own, since the team only practices two days a week and has a meet on Wednesdays. She doesn't really love running though; she likes the social atmosphere of being on a co-ed team.  A friend whose sixth grade daughter is running this year and doing well said her daughter gets really nervous before meets. She asked if I have any advice.  No, I said. I always had sleepless nights before races.  I'd lie awake worrying about not sleeping or have nightmares about missing the start, about my legs not working, about wetting my pants, etc.  I'd practice visualizing the race or clinching and relaxing muscles like the sports psychologists recommended, but the thing that worked best was again something my coach said, "Let me do the worrying."  Somehow, sometimes I would be able to transfer my anxieties to him and sleep well. It really was kind of a mystical thing. If only I was as good about transferring my current anxieties to God. ..

I don't race any more, and running is now my means of exorcising anxiety, as I've written about before.  I still wake up early and limp through the first half mile or so until my body warms up a bit, and then I sort of grit my way through a few miles. Something usually hurts - my feet or knees, my stomach, my shoulder - but, as any runner will attest, I feel better having run than not having run.  I keep thinking that one of these days I'll age out of running.

Yesterday morning, the day after I had had this conversation about managing nerves before a race, I was running along the bay and had one of those rare mornings where running actually felt good again. The sunrise was particularly colorful, and the many of the morning walkers were pausing to snap photos of the sun coming up behind the bridge. I was still pretty creaky as I started off, and I hadn't slept long the night before. But as I ran along the park, I passed an older guy, who looked to be of Pacific Islander heritage, who was just sitting on a park bench, He wore a wide smile, perhaps from enjoying the sunrise, the park bench, the parade of humanity and canines in front of him, a naturally cheery disposition. He was greeting the day and the passersby with a smile and a nod. Maybe he just had had received good news of some sort. Maybe he just was a congenial guy. Whatever was the source of his joy, it was infectious. I heard in his smile, "relax your face."  I stopped squinting and grimacing and smiled back.

The rest of my run, I felt like a weight was removed.  I have to admit I had been tense of late, upset about this and that, but for the next twenty minutes or so, it all melted away.  And so did the ache in my knees and the throbbing in my feet.  My shoulders relaxed. I felt like I was running fast (relatively, of course, not actually) or at least comfortably.  These are the moments worth months of achy runs.

Thank you, guy on the bench. I tried to share your smile with others.  For the next few days, I'm going to remind myself to relax my face more often.  I'm sure I'll slip back into my squinty ways. But maybe someone else will carry your smile on.

What weighs heavily

Sometimes the number of things that weigh heavily on my mind and on my heart act as a doorstop, blocking the door that lets out the self who gets things done.  Instead, I find myself sitting staring into space, or lying in bed too long, or aimlessly straightening piles of papers into new piles that I still don't read.  I'm sure not getting enough sleep has something to do with this, but I can't get enough sleep without somehow letting go of these heavy thoughts.

So here is a list of worries - prayer requests perhaps is a kinder way of phrasing it:

For people suffering from cancer - Right now our family is praying for four friends or family members with cancer. One of them has breast cancer that was caught early, and she will be fine. She's had her first surgery, and the doctors determined the cancer is not in her lymph nodes.  The other three have heavy doses of chemotherapy in their future, when they are already weak and tired and in pain.  My sister-in-law's father is also having surgery to relieve pressure on his brain. My father-in-law was hospitalized after a recent visit with complications from congestive heart failure.

For people suffering the loss or illness of children: A friend who suffered a miscarriage. A friend whose little niece died from a head injury inflicted by a horse. A friend longing for a baby. A friend whose baby is failing to thrive.

For for my own children: I fear for their safety as they learn to bike and learn to drive, weaving through traffic and navigating their ow way, navigating life. They all have sustained minor injuries to their bodies and to their hearts. Two more sons have torn ligaments in their knees - which means two more surgeries. Meanwhile, I also worry perhaps more than they do about the choices they make about their future and effects on their bodies and their souls.

The Spectre Death is always lurking nearby waiting for a victim. 

In less physically worrisome news: I have to finish planning a class and finish work on a paper for a presentation. The needs of the household always seem to present themselves more urgently when I have something to get done. Hence the late nights.

I like to blame some of my sleeplessness on this house and the traffic outside our door, which causes a different sort of angst.  Motorcycles, trucks, loud music, drunk sailors, and other sounds in the middle of the night prevent a restful slumber.  I keep watching the ads for houses to rent and keep my ear open to find out who is transferring, but for one reason or another - price, size, timing, inertia - the opportunity to move to a better location has not arrived. Aside from the noise and congestion from traffic, little things bother me about the house: the toilets run, the pool is green with algae again, even this late in the season, horn worms are eating my plants, the windows are grimy, the showers moldy, the screens black with pollution so that I fear for our health. I try to feel love for this house, and I do feel a fondness for it occasionally, but then something breaks or the pool goes green.  Have I mentioned I will never own a pool?

Then there is the general tiredness caused by middle-aged physical changes -- achy joints, new gray hairs and wrinkles, sore feet and back.  All the signs point to the physical decay of being halfway through life or more, though I still don't want to admit it - and I still worry about getting pregnant. 

'A different kind of angst descends when I read or listen to the news. Gloom! Doom! Spooky times!

October has arrived. Autumnal colors are not especially noticeable here in southern Californa, but the sense of loss and passing time - shorter daylight hours? foggy mornings? - is compounded this time of year. Now that I have exorcised these demons by writing them out, perhaps the spirits can rest instead of haunting the nights...

Getting cultured - kindergarten home school

 I may already be questioning my decision, but I did decide to home school the kindergartener. We signed up with a charter school, which in California entitles us to some funds for classes and books. In exchange, we have to meet with a mentor teacher and take some assessments at the beginning and end of the year.  We officially started school on August 20th with a little MCP math and phonics - workbooks that are now out of print. I used them with the other kids and found them easy to use without teachers' manuals.  We've done half of the Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons and have been progressing through BOB books from the library. For history we are reading A Child's History of the World because the first Story of the World book seems a little mature for this particular kid.  I plan to add in some children's picture books about famous Americans, but I need to get organized and intentional about it.  Ditto the religion lessons - right now we're either reading Beginner's Bible or going to Mass.  And for science we are doing things like visiting the Living Coast Discovery Center, counting birds in the neighborhood, and going to the zoo. Does watching Magic School Bus count also?  I figure we'll look at some Jim Arnovsky books for natural history, visit some parks to hike and picnic, and try to keep a nature notebook, but at this stage my goal is just to practice observation and drawing conclusion skills.

I am not a super creative teacher. My method is something like this: Hey kid, let's read some books and then you draw a picture, and we are done.  We've been reading Magic Tree House books at night and a variety of easy readers during the day, but I want to gather a stack of fairy tales and children's classics and some poetry to memorize.  If I were to buy a curriculum, I think it would be Five in a Row.  She also has a beginning composition book/journal for practicing handwriting.  I'm using the state funds for classes in art, piano, and "kinder club" a couple of days a week, while I am teaching, and one day a week she will go to a friend's house while I teach.  My friend was a pre-school teacher, so I'm thinking she'll plan some fun activities - or they will just play and that will be fine, too.

I think my favorite part of homeschooling is taking field trips.  Last week we visited a few favorite spots, Living Coast, the zoo, and the art museum, See below:

I forget the name of this interesting and rather social bird.

The San Diego Museum of Art was hosting a really nice exhibit of "The Golden Age" of Spanish art showcasing works from 1600-mid 1700s. Mostly Velazquez, Zubaran, and Murillo - who are all memorialized in stone on the front of the museum, along with El Greco and Ribera. A bit on the gory side, but full of rich colors. And walking around the darkened gallery amidst hushed whispers is a relaxing experience on its own.

Sor Juana Inez, an early librarian

Lamb of God by Zubaran

This is a stunning statue of St Benedict the Moor

A nursing mother

The clever "Kitchen Maid at the Supper of Emmaus" by Velazquez. Notice that she is looking at the reflection of Christ breaking bread with the travelers in the reflection of her brass bowl. 

A very interesting depiction of St. James on horseback

A very gory devil despatched by St. Michael - he is eating his own shoulder

Three other paintings of St Michael. I don't remember which artist is which but Velazquez, Goya and Zubaran were  heavily represented

An unusual depiction of young Mary

A Zubaran St. Francis, one of several portraits of St. Francis in this little gallery showcasing "Art in the service of Faith," 2 by Zubaran

This painting is not a part of the exhibit, but I love Childe Hassam

Eagle Scout project installed - 4 cabinets for storing sporting goods

Last concert of the summer

Kindergarten accomplishment: learning to ride a bike! This romper was made by our friend at church who has been gifting us with handmade dresses all summer

A quick trip to the zoo

A funny freebie from the SD festival of the book