Retreat

February is usually a rather quiet month dedicated to settling into new routines and thinking about making good on Lenten promises. But this year Lent is delayed, and we have had a spate of activity. Three weekends in a row I have spent at least two nights away from home. I was anxious about how the five-year-old might cling after all of this separation, but although she seems a bit demanding, she doesn't seem any more or less anxious.  I am thankful for her father, siblings, and grandparents who showered her - and the other kids - with love while I was gone.

The first weekend I left to attend our parish women's retreat. The past couple of years, I had told myself and my friend who always goes that I was going to go next year. This year seemed to present no obstacles when I signed up in October. The weekend fills up quickly. But after the new year, when I was filling out the calendar, I realized that the Seabee Ball was the same weekend. Ugh, guilt. If my husband was not the CO of the biggest Seabee command in San Diego, I wouldn't have felt badly about missing the Ball, but I felt some obligation to be a good example of a supportive Navy spouse. I have only missed one ball, and that was when I was on bed rest for baby seven. But I had made this retreat reservation first, and I really was looking forward to it. When my husband mentioned to the wardroom that I was having a hard time deciding what to do, they all encouraged me to go, so I think that gave him some peace of mind about going to the ball solo, and it was all the "permission" I needed to leave.

This retreat was not a silent affair, nor was it a somber weekend, although it was prayerful. It was very much about fellowship, coupled with thoughtful talks about faith, hope, and love. Although we had little time for silent reflection, we did have opportunities to share and spend time outdoors. The retreat center sits on the edge of the state forest in the hills outside of town, and the weather was ideal for some long walks in the woods, although I happened to take some of us on a detour off the trail for a little bit accidentally. The trail we were following just petered out. Perhaps it had been a deer trail. We maneuvered between chaparral and manzanita until we found our way to the top of the hill and there recovered the main trial. 

The dining hall specialized in vegan meals and a seedy homemade wheat bread that I devoured. In fact, our retreat leader chose this site owned by the Episcopalians over the Catholic retreat center because the food is so much better. Mass was held in their outdoor chapel since the weather was so mild. And the second evening was centered around a quiet and moving time for Eucharistic adoration, followed by evening fellowship - I've never been to a retreat before where everyone brought wine. Heartfelt conversation is certainly a form of prayer, of connecting with Christ in one another. New friendships were made and old ones cemented. And half the fun was the drive up and back. Honestly, a good part of the reason I wanted to go on this retreat was because I have seen these women at Mass and around town, and thought, “I like these people. I wish we could hang out more.” And praying together and sharing requests for prayer connects us in a way coffee and conversation don’t. I came away with a renewed sense of belonging - and of being blessed. So many people have such heavy burdens to bear. I am so grateful that our crosses have been light for the most part. This weekend was a reminder to dwell in that gratitude more fully. 

A perfect climbing tree to Heaven. I can picture John Muir scampering up a tree such as this in his essay "A Windstorm in the Sierras."

Retreat center tree house - i"m sure this is a favorite at youth retreats.

The beautiful image of Christ carved from wood shaped by wildfire.

Evening sky

Part of our homework is to reflect on Psalm 139:  

You have searched me, Lord,
    and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
    you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
    you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
    you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
    and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
    if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
    your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts,[a] God!
    How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
    they would outnumber the grains of sand—
    when I awake, I am still with you.

If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
    Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
They speak of you with evil intent;
    your adversaries misuse your name.
Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
    and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them;
    I count them my enemies.
Search me, God, and know my heart;
    test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
    and lead me in the way everlasting.

Reading in Review

Although wintry weather doesn't have us cozied up in the evenings by a fireplace reading (except in my dreams), we have spent some quiet evenings with books this month.  I've been reading The Secret Garden with the five year old, mostly because I wanted to reread it, but she is loving it. We have just a few chapters left, and then we'll watch a film version. I had forgotten how mean Mary and Colin are. I may have left out a few of their lines here and there because of their rudeness. I also skipped a bit in the Magic chapter because it becomes a bit incantatory. I can dismiss their superstitions and see it as a manifestation of a desire to believe in the power of prayer, but I'm not sure the kindergartener would understand, and she may start wishing for magic rather than praying for miracles - which at this age she doesn't do anyway. Her prayers are sweet lists of people she loves. Despite my minimal editing of the text as I read aloud, I am loving rereading it. The descriptions of the garden are beautiful, and the effect of the garden on the children fits right in line with what we talk about in our nature writing class.  (Also confirmed in the New York Times summary of this study. I'm not sure that we need these studies, except to point scientifically to the fact that we all agree with that more time outdoors is better.)

The only problem of reading books like this is that they make me yearn for a garden to grow bulbs and roses and snowdrops and delphinium. I wonder if there is a study that relates wellbeing and the amount of time spent reading: a certain amount makes you feel good, another amount unearths unfulfilled desires... How often does what we read get put into practice? If we read too many competing visions of life, do we become incapacitated?)

To avoid that situation, I forget a good deal of what I read, so instead here is a list of what I've consumed and passed back to the library:
 First, a collection of essays: The Best American Science and Nature Writing 2014 edited by Deborah Blum.
This was a library book I picked up on a whim. The articles were mostly published in 2013 but still seem relatively timely, albeit familiar - a couple on extinction and hybrids, one about genetic engineering to prevent crop disease, one about a female college professor who spent her career writing about end of life issues who is now caring for her husband after he broke his neck in a bike crash and became quadriplegic. Their regular brushes with death and the ethical debate about ending his life was a fascinating read. To see the wife move from writing about ideas about dying to experiencing what it meant to love someone struggling to live revealed how strong the will to live can be.  That essay was "A Life or Death Situation" by Robin Marantz Henig originally published in The New York Times Magazine. The husband died around the time the article was published when he asked that the machines that kept him alive be unplugged.

Ethical issues were at the heart of an essay about a woman seeking family after taking a DNA test. Less controversial were articles about how the brain prefers reading and writing on paper, an encomium to wool by Barbara Kingsolver, and an essay about combating boredom on long expeditions by having celebrations. I only skimmed a long essay about paleontology but read with fascination one about waking up from anesthesia while in surgery and another about Hansen's disease, or leprosy, by Rebecca Solnit, whose writing I usually love. E. O. Wilson's essay about mountains was hard to get interested in, as was an essay about fire ants.  Essays about the fear of antibiotics failing and the return of measles were a bit sensationalized. "Learning to die in the Anthropocene" by Roy Scranton is an essay I see referenced in some of the reading I do for my nature writing class.  The author published a book by the same title. Drawing on realizations he had as a soldier in Iraq in 2003, Scranton suggests that the end of our era is already here, and we need to learn to confront death.

I read this collection on a car trip - and it's the perfect kind of read for a journey because you can dip in and out of it, and look up every once in a while to discuss the ideas with others.

For book club, I read Mist of Mercy by Anne the Lay Apostle. I was reluctant to read this one, but I had a free copy from the church library liquidation. It was not what I was expecting - which was something more "mystical" I guess. Based on the cover copy, I thought there might be more discussion of demons and sin and describing different visions.  Rather, the beginning gave a short history of "Anne's" visions and how she came to transcribe them. The middle section is basically short dramatic anecdotes about how sin is manifest in different ways in different lives and how guardian angels might intervene. Then a section about purgatory follows. The way she describes souls in purgatory as being in a "mist" reminded me a lot of  C. S. Lewis's The Great Divorce. It was more narrative than I expected. The next section was transcriptions of Jesus's messages to Anne. Here is where I become more skeptical because the language is so sentimental. The final section is a short compendium of prayers and brief advice for incorporating more prayer and good works in your life. I'm interested to hear the response of my book club, but I wonder if those who did not connect to the book will be more guarded because the person who recommended it LOVES it.  I struggle to articulate my feelings about this book and its style of writing - amateurish but sincere - and subject matter: personal visions and advice for holiness.  After reading it, I do feel convicted about steps I could take to live a more holy life, and it helped me identify thoughts and attitudes that distance me from God and weaken my ability to respond with love to those around me. I know the weed of selfishness is rooted deep in my soul and needs some major work of excavation, but I have a skeptical side that withholds affection from this type of book. For instance, I have never been able to finish Story of Soul and the book about Fatima through the eyes of Lucia. Here again is where reading widely prevents me from being enthused about a book that is good for me - a little like eating raw vegetables.

On the other hand, I can gush over Robert Macfarlane's Landmarks, although admittedly I skipped right over what he might say is the essence of the book - the glossary of forgotten words. His essays describing different terrains of the islands around the UK are luminous, a real delight to read. Despite apparent similarities in these places, he gives them each a personality.  He is an author I have only recently discovered, and I want to read more from him, as I love his essays. Here is an hour-long talk he gave about landscape and the heart, based on one of his earlier books, The Old Ways, which is a model for what I am trying to say so inadequately in my class. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5q1IK-O5Ypg  (And for my own notes, I want to return to this: Macfarlane and Barry Lopez at Powells Book Store last summer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyCFGPlLjbE -- Macfarlane makes a very genuine and moving tribute to Lopez at the beginning. Love it!)

I was looking forward to reading Brian Doyle's The Journey of John Carson in Several Quarters of the World because I have always enjoyed Doyle's essays, and his death last year was a real loss to the literary world.  He wrote in a natural and conversational way that made him seem a friend across the miles.  I wanted to love this novel about a period in the life of Robert Louis Stevenson when he was living in a boarding house in San Francisco while he waited for his fiancee's divorce to be finalized, but I had trouble staying focused.  The book is mostly about the adventures of the landlord, John Carson, which serve as an inspiration to some of Stevenson's stories.  While Stevenson lives at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Carson, he writes furiously during the day, and then sits down to enjoy a drink and the storytelling prowess of Mr. Carson. Mr. Carson was a sailor who had many adventures familiar to readers of RLS.  I have not been an avid RLS reader, so I likely did not catch all of the allusions and am just assuming that Carson's adventures translate into models for many of Stevenson's heroes' adventures.  The book is charming, but there are almost too many tales. And though I enjoy reflections on the power of storytelling/writing, some seemed shoehorned in.  Interspersed between the tales are letters exchanged by Robert and Fanny, his fiancee, which also seem to need more context or perhaps are too sweet or too contemporary?  I can't quite put my finger on it. I did warm up to it and enjoy it more as it went along, but I kept putting it down and forgetting to pick it back up. Doyle's gifts as an essayist are not dimmed in my opinion, but perhaps do not translate to novels.

Nonetheless, there are some especially good passages. This may be my favorite:: "We do not acknowledge enough, I think, the clan and tribe of our friends, who are not assigned to us by blood, or given to us to love by a merciful Creator, but come to us by grace and gift from the mass of men, stepping forth unannounced from the passing multitudes, and into our lives, and so very often stepping right into the inner chambers of our hearts. In so many ways we celebrate those we love as wife or husband, father and mother, brother and sister, daughter and son, but it is our friends whom we choose, and who choose us; it is our friends we turn to abashed, when we are bruised and broken by love and pain; it is our friends whose affection and kindness are food and drink to our spirits, and sustain and invigorate us when we are worn and weary."

A sadder line: "I did not know then, and only can imagine now, the pain of realizing that the child you love with all your heart and soul is a stranger, and perhaps always will be, no matter how many years you both shall live."  Substitute child with spouse or sibling or friend or parent - any soul we think we know who surprises us with a distance we did not know existed, but is inevitable between embodied souls.

On storytelling: "There is a story in every thing, and every being, and every moment, were we alert to catch it, were we ready with our tender nets; indeed there are a  hundred, a thousand stories, uncountable stories, could they only be lured out and appreciated; and more and more now I realize that what I thought was a skill only for authors and pastors and doctors and dream -diviners is the greatest of all human skills, the one that allows us into the heart and soul and deepest layers of our companions on the brief sunlit road between great dark wildernesses. We are here to witness, to apprehend, to see and hear, to plumb, with patience and humility, the shy stories of others; and in some cases, like mine, then shape and share them; so that they might sometimes, like inky arrows, sink into the depths of other men and women and children, and cause pleasure, or empathy, or a sort of delicious pain, as you realize that someone somewhere else, even perhaps in a time long ago, felt just as you did. Stories, among their many virtues, are messages from friends you did not know you had; and while you may well never meet the friend, you feel the better, with one more companion by your side, than you thought you knew."

Finally: "Always it is thus, I suppose, hat the sharpest savor is the last, and we finally understand what we have, when we no longer have it. A deep delight, married to a deep throb of sadness -- perhaps that is the quintessential human condition."

And that is it for now.  Classes have started so I am reading along in my packets for those, too, and reviewing Walden again - still trying to jam in too much in a short time.  How can I leave out voices like Brian Doyle/s?

Update - a long weekend

Our kids' school has an unusual schedule. The high schoolers take finals after they come back from Christmas break. They have a week of review and then a week of testing. This testing week ends on Thursday to give teachers a day to grade. Then the kids end up having a four day weekend because they also have a day off for Martin Luther King, Jr., weekend.

Since this four day weekend falls so close to Christmas break, we didn't make any big plans to get away. Some people use the extra day to go skiing or visit amusement parks when they aren't as crowded - if there is such a thing.  We wanted to take advantage of the weekend with no homework. I advocated for camping at Joshua Tree or Anzo Borrega, a desert state park reputed to have great star watching, but the response was negative from our crowd, except the youngest, because they had social engagements with various friends, so instead we engaged in some forced family fun closer to home and caught up on housework.

Our first stop was the San Diego Zoo. Right now half the zoo is under construction, including the children's zoo and the Skyfari (think ski lift across the canyon from one end of the zoo to the other). And the pandas went back to China in the spring and most of the bears are off exhibit.  If we had paid the full price of 47.95 per person, I would have been disappointed. But since we have a membership, we weren't upset at having a smaller portion of the zoo to cover, especially since our 15-year-old is recovering from knee surgery.

The next day, we visited the Safari Park, which is part of the higher level zoo membership, with different teens.  Since it was Saturday, the zoo was packed, and we had to wait a long time for the safari tram and even longer for a quick glimpse of the new platypus on display in the Australian walk-about exhibit. The wait was compounded because the platypus has just arrived, it was a holiday weekend, and the Australian exhibit was especially popular because of the fires still burning in that country. Because the platypus is much smaller than expected and it hides under rocks and swims around in a darkened room, the line moves at a glacial pace while people search his tank for a glimpse of the elusive creature. I was beginning to get frustrated with the group of old people in front of us who just wouldn't move on. Give up! Or let the loud and impatient small children behind you in line stand in front of you at the aquarium window, so the line can keep moving! I suppose because they had had to wait so long themselves, they weren't very considerate of those behind them.

Another observation of the crowd at the zoos on a holiday weekend: There were lots of young adults there in groups and on dates who all seemed to be drinking.  Everyone was carrying around their Big Gulp sized beers and Cheetah-ritas.  I supposed this gives a chill vibe to a day at the zoo, but I hoped these drinkers had designated drivers with them - or that their beverages were watered down.

We went to Mass on Saturday night because the kids like the contemporary music at that service, and it freed up our Sunday morning for a hike. We chose a shorter, flatter trail to accommodate our injured teen, so it was not as long or as quiet as I usually like, but I love the way the kids eventually settle into congenial conversation with each other and leave behind the peevish tones they often use at home -- one of the reasons I like camping so much for forced family fun.  Something about being outside, removed from devices and other observers, helps the kids lay aside their rivalries and posturing for a bit.  It was a beautiful way to spend the Sabbath morning.

The next day, our senior and I left the other kids to do a service project with Dad in honor of Dr. King while we went on a quick college visit to Pepperdine University. Although the university was closed for the day, we opted to take advantage of the free time to make the trip just to get an idea of what options are available for the future. There is an admitted students' weekend scheduled for later in the spring, but our daughter is really only looking at 2 schools right now, with a 3rd as a back-up if we can't work out the financial details.  A friend who works at the university and lives close by met us to give us a personalized tour of the campus, which is perched on a hill above the Pacific on the outskirts of Malibu.  The day was a bit overcast, and the campus was relatively empty, but we got a feel for the lay-out and some insider information from our friend. We also visited the local Catholic Church which is just across the street. Then we had scrumptious sandwiches at the "bougie" place down at the bottom of the hill.

It was still early afternoon when we finished up, so we made a quick trip by Mount St. Mary's, which is adjacent to USC in the heart of LA.  This was a trip that ruled out that school, which my daughter had already decided not to apply to, even though we are still trying to get her to consider a Catholic school. She is adamant about staying in California.  Mount St. Mary's is very small, and located on property that was once a private estate, so the buildings look like old mansions. It has a boarding school feel to it, but I can't find much to like about that part of the city. I find it hard to be charitable towards Los Angeles in general, in a large part because I can't stand the traffic, and I am a country mouse at heart, but also because it is so very rooted in ideologies opposed to those I hold dear. I was happy to turn the car towards home. We spent a lot of time in the car for short visits to two schools, but the trip was worthwhile. By far the best part of the day was the one on one time with my oldest daughter, soon to be taking flight from the nest.

And so the weekend passed quickly. I also had a fair about of class prep to finish up. I am now a part of the "gig economy" affected by the new law in California that is meant to protect contract employees, but results in a lot of extra paperwork. I had to attend a training session on the new system to learn how to log hours and to figure out what counts as work I can bill. My university has set a suggested hourly wage and number of hours that should result in about the same amount of pay when I got paid per course, but this is an imperfect system.  For instance, professional development does not count as time that can be billed, but reading I do for class does. I read a fair amount of material that I don't end up using in class, but I think I might use.  I can count it if I use the material, but not if I don't. Also, since last year, I spent a lot of time planning and creating powerpoints and gathering materials, I don't need to spend as much time preparing for class, so I miss out on some hours a new teacher might bill. But I have a larger class this time, so grading will take longer.  Also, I am a thorough grader, although I have improved my speeds. So a newer, inefficient instructor might bill more hours than an experienced, efficient instructor and get paid more.  Now I think the university has devised an hourly wage based on experience, so that may take care of that discrepancy, but it is a flaw in the system. It will be interesting to see how this new system works. Already the law has been challenged by some freelance workers like photographers and writers who will be negatively impacted, so it may not last long.

And now back to making a dinner no one will like but me -- I have soup on the stove that is inspired by Italian wedding soup and planned because I have an abundance of "braising greens" from our new CSA box.  I sauteed them with onions and garlic and then put them in the blender for a minute with chicken broth and some white beans. Then a put them all back in the pot with some peppers and pasta - the couscous blend from Trader Joe's. No sausage since it's Friday.

We started a CSA subscription two weeks ago from an urban farm run by a group that works with teens from an inner-city high school  So far we've eaten some really delicious roasted root vegetables - beets, the most tender turnips I've ever had, and carrots - and enjoyed some fresh mandarins and little lemons, and gobbled up the microgreens in wraps and on burgers, but we can't quite finish all the salad greens we have received - lots of arugula, and a blend that has mustard greens, arugula, and some other greens I can't remember that are slightly bitter. Fortunately, we have eternally hungry guinea pigs who are happy to eat the left overs.

2019 Reading in Review

Time for the yearly summary of last year's reading.  I read a few more books than the past couple of years, but that is likely because I included children's chapter books.  If I had included picture books in the past, the numbers would be considerably higher (maybe that is how some people read more than 200+ books a year). So including children's chapter books, I finished 62 books in 2019.

Of that number:

Children's books not including picture books =14
Books of Poetry = 3 (if you count Christian Wiman's book My Bright Abyss, which is partly a memoir)
Fiction not including children's books = 17
Nonfiction = 28

Of those numbers, 18 were rereads counting children's books (4 not counting them...)
Published before 1950 -  6 or 7
20 or more could count as spiritual books

I also included 7 books that were literary journals or anthologies.

The winners of the "best" in each category are:
For Poetry: Wiman or Tretheway (a small group)
For Nonfiction: Harder to choose:  Educated was the most interesting, but I really enjoyed both of David James Duncan's books of essays.
Literary magazines: love Laphams. I also started reading Emergence and Orion, both of which contain outstanding nature writing.
Fiction: Probably Shadows on the Rock by Willa Cather or A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles
Children's books: If you look at the list, you'll see that we read a lot of Beverly Clearly. Hands down, a favorite. And several we also listen to on tape in the car (Ellen Tebbits, a couple Henry books). I didn't include some of the slim children's books we read like Magic Treehouse or the color fairy books, which would win worst books of the year for sure.

So in summary, I read more (if you count children's books), but wrote less on this blog. If you count the writing I did for the academic paper that took too much time, I did do more of a different kind of writing.
This year we traveled more, so that allowed me to read more.
I also taught more = more reading for class.
We entertained more = less reading time.
Less time on social media= more reading books.

We’ll see what this year brings!

New beginnings and looking back at books and movies...

This weekend is our last weekend of winter vacation. Technically, we should be back on our normal routine by now, but the college kids are still home from school, and we have a trip planned this weekend.  We're heading up to our old stomping grounds north of LA for a wedding of one of our sons' friends. We were all good friends with the family, so the whole clan is excited about the celebration.  It seems sort of momentous - the first wedding we've been to that is our children's generation.  We're renting a little house instead of staying with the cousins this time because two of the boys' girlfriends have flown out to attend also - another element adding to the holiday feel.  There has been much discussion about what to wear and some dance practice - word is that swing dancing will be the dance of choice at the reception. And - timely coincidence -the eighth grader is learning swing dancing in PE this week. (The only PE unit I vividly remember from grade school is the square dance unit - so fun!)

In anticipation of new beginnings - I am still thinking over small alterations to make in my own life. I have seen several book lists lately that show people reading over a hundred books a year - some over 200.  Although in high school, I felt I was falling behind in life if I read fewer than 2 books a week, and often plowed through a book in a day or two, I am amazed at adults - parents! - who find time to finish two books a week or more, unless you count children's books. Then again, how much free time could I devote to reading a real book if I read less on the internet?

This morning before sitting down to write this, I spent half an hour reading the Wall Street Journal - a gift from my children. I love that paper. But it is a LOT to read. I will have to set a limit - 30 minutes seems reasonable - for reading time.  Can reading the paper count toward my reading list? 

So far this year, I have finished two books in about a week - slim romances I picked up for my 17 year old to try to get her to read a literary romance instead of the Nicholas Sparks novels she's been plowing through lately.  The first was Meet Me at the Museum by Anne Youngman, a random selection at the library discovered while I was looking for the second book, The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin, about which I had read a review.  Meet Me at the Museum is an epistolary novel composed of letters from a middle-aged woman, Tina, in England to a middle-aged man, Anders, in Denmark who is a curator at a museum where a bog body is on display. The bogman had fascinated the young Tina, and she always meant to visit with her best friend, whose recent death precipitates Tina's letter to the museum. When Anders writes back with just enough humanity to spark Tina's return response, a correspondence is born in which the two become drawn into sharing their thoughts on life and aging and their family relationships. I love the concept of epistolary novels, and have fond memories of my own penpals, one from England and one from Malaysia. I never met the girl from England, but we began writing to each other when we were in fifth grade as part of an English assignment and continued to exchange letters until college, when we both were drawn into other relationships. The Malaysian penpal was another assignment - in high school, and he actually came to visit when he was doing college visits in the states.  I think I have written before about how I was not a very good hostess when he came to visit, an awkward memory that I wish I could revise. At any rate, Tina and Anders' letters are much more philosophical and personal, and the relationship that develops between them helps them both to understand themselves and life more clearly.  

At any rate, I did thoroughly enjoy the thoughtful and descriptive letters of Tina and Anders, but because they are mostly about the concerns of people in middle age, my daughter was not as enthused. Nor did she love Zevin's book, which is a more popular style, again because it is about "old people" falling in love - people in their thirties! Zevin's life also features a widower, A. J. Fikry, whose wife has died in an accident. They had an ideal marriage (whereas Anders and Tina did not) and owned a bookstore together. Shortly after A. J.'s wife dies, Amelia the book rep comes to sell A. J. new publications. Their first meeting is rocky, but of course, eventually, romance ensues. The book is peppered with book reviews and conversations about how important shared interests, i.e. reading habits, are in relationships, but it also depicts how important relationships with real people are to making life rich and improving people's character. It panders a bit to book lovers, though, and seems written to sell, rather than being the type of literary fiction Fikry professes. And everything ties up neatly in the end. 

Neat endings and books that sell vs. good literature reminded me a bit of Little Women, which my daughters and I went to see last week.  The movie reorders the events of the book, so that they are told as flashbacks, a contrivance that works well in this case, I think, although I wonder how well people who have not read the book follow along. I had some issues with casting -- Emma Watson seemed too flighty and slim in body and character as Meg. I liked the actress who played Amy, who became more likable while retaining the childishness of Amy, but both Laurie and Mr. Bhaer seemed chosen for their good looks than their fitness for their roles. The actor who plays Laurie is a rising star, but he seemed too moody and waifish for the Laurie I always imagined. On the other hand, a friend and I both commented that he and Amy seemed more suited for each other than the Laurie and Amy of our imaginings. Mr. Bhaer was also too young and good-looking, although that makes him less of a disappointment as a match for Jo.  (I know, we all grow to appreciate the suitability of Mr. Bhaer as a husband to a writer in the novel - and Jo's Boys develops his character even more, but as a young reader, I was initially surprised and let down when Jo is paired up with him.) The movie plays on this disappointment for readers with the ending - both the beginning and the end show Jo behaving more like Lousia May Alcott selling her writing than Jo March - a reflection of the autobiographical element in the Jo/L. M. character.  The ending of the movie interrupts the fiction - which makes the flashback construction seem more to be a meditation on the interplay between real life and fiction. (For instance, the sisters seem more petty to each other in the movie - less good than the book characters to a small extent.)

Other quibbles: there are instances where characters make political comments that seem anachronistic, but while the comments about women needing to make money alerted my "I don't remember Amy/Jo saying this in the book" monitor, they may have had some roots in Alcott's views. Several times Jo remarks on her constraints as a woman and a writer to make money, and Amy makes explicit her desire to marry for money because she doesn't have other choices to help her family financially. This idea is in the text, but not quite as explicit - unless I misremember. which is a good possibility. Another moment that seems more purely contemporary politics is when Marmee says she is not proud of her country while she is handing out donations to soldiers alongside a black woman.  This comment I pondered if I heard correctly because she is helping the Union army, who are trying to unite the country and end slavery.  If it is supposed to mean she doesn't like warfare and a country divided, the comment is less out of character, but because her husband is in the army trying to fight for a just cause, it seems to make her a puppet for the screenwriters for her to make that remark in those words. The line is jarring for being out of character and out of context.

On the other hand, Mr. Lawrence and Aunt March were both great in the movie.  Mr. Lawrence is much more sympathetic and present than he was in the book, and Meryl Streep plays Aunt March just as cross as she is in the book, but also conveys her sympathy toward her impoverished relatives.

The best part of the movie was watching it with my two girls and sharing in discussions after watching it.  Since the eighth-grader had just finished the book in the fall, it was still fairly fresh in her mind. Now I am tempted to reread again.  

*Edit to add: this is an interesting interview with Greta Gerwig about how influential the book was in so many lives and about some of her considerations when making the movie, including where she integrated dialogue from other sources.   https://www.filmcomment.com/article/lifes-work/
I especially was intrigued by the comment near the end that Louisa May Alcott was a runner apparently... and the connection of Meg's nickname Daisy and her daughter's name is something I never noticed... It's a long article but worth reading until the end.

Another note: though they are poor, the March women's clothes are so pretty...
 

A couple other movie reviews: Knives Out was entertaining but too obvious. I kept waiting for a bigger plot twist, but it wasn't there. I usually enjoy Daniel Craig's acting, but in this case, his fake Kentucky accent was awful and his character seemed goofy but not quite as funny as other bumbling detectives, like say, Inspector Clouseau. So in the end, the movie was fun but forgettable - when it could have been so much better.

Frozen II was the other movie we saw at the base theater.  The five-year-old saw it twice with different members of the family, and after I saw it, I wished she hadn't seen it at all. It does have some beautiful animation in the beginning - I loved the scenes of the autumn woods. And some of Olaf's lines about child development are good for a laugh. But the storyline is so hokey.  My daughter couldn't explain it after her first viewing, and I could understand why when I saw it. Elsa hears a voice and has to go find out what it is and ends up finding out all this terrible stuff about her parents and grandfather. And the voice is supposedly her dead mother? I think? Or the fifth spirit after earth, wind, fire, and water. But Elsa is also the fifth spirit?  There are so many plot holes and inconsistencies I don't know where to begin. The nature people were supposed to be grateful for the gift of a dam? The whole thing is so unbelievable and forced - especially the way Elsa and Anna go jumping around on rocks in high heeled boots.

The other dumb Disney movie that is about to make me swear off Disney forever (Why haven't I? I don't know.  I admit to sympathy for Moana after our time in Guam. UP was good - but is that even Disney? And I liked The Lion King, but the remakes seem ploys to separate people from their money.  If we didn't get free movies at the base, we would not have seen these) was Toy Story 4, which we saw on DVD.  This movie is so dark and depressing, I am sorry we spent the 90+ minutes watching it. I kept thinking it was going to get better.  And the ending was so disappointing.  Woody gives and gets lectures about loyalty, but decides to ditch his child and all his friends in order to run off and be a "lost toy" with Little Bo Peep, the lamp he hasn't seen in years?  He betrays his friends and his family.  He becomes the cartoon equivalent of an outlaw. The scariness of the antique store dolls is enough to make me swear off of recommending or ever watching again this movie, but the problematic ending just makes the entire thing a huge dark blot on Pixar/Disney that makes me question whether we'll ever watch another film they make again....

I wish I had something to recommend as a must see, but I'll have to revisit the watch list at another time. And with the older kids back in school, we'll probably do much less watching of shows. 

Year in Review

January brings the snow, makes our toes and fingers glow . . . Sara Coleridge

... or if you live in the southern climes, it brings the glow of the sunset.  Sunsets tend to be more stunning this time of year, perhaps something to do with the contrast between ocean and air temperatures?

We hadn't been to the beach for a sunset admiration party/photo op for months before last night - and that trip was short but sweet.  The kids were just getting ready to settle in for watching a movie since we ate our traditional New Year's Day white meal early because one kid had to work (pork roast, mashed potatoes, knepp, and a vegetable, this year beet greens from our garden box) when I noticed the sky was lighting up, I engaged the assistance of my spouse and rousted them from their couches with much groaning.  But once the initial inertia was overcome, they did get into the car pretty quickly - no need for coats or shoes - and with the luck of the Irish on our side, we found a parking spot right in front of the beach, so we made it time to watch the show in the sky as it went from beautiful to breathtaking. And when the sun finally dipped beneath the horizon and the last rays faded into darkness, everyone was in good spirits.  On returning home, the big kids watched their movie (The Irishman, a violent mob movie), while I fell asleep putting LK to bed.  I woke only to move from the floor to my bed, where I slept the deepest and longest sleep I've had for weeks.  It was glorious.

(A physiology side note: I have noticed a spike in insomnia/anxiety related to my cycle that I think is probably attributable to middle-aged hormone shifts. The opposite trend happens during my much shorter phase 2, which makes me wonder if someone could capture the hormone combo that makes up phase 2 and market it. I'm so much nicer those few days. Which also makes me wonder about how often kids enter adolescence when their mothers enter perimenopause - not the best combination, but probably part of the reason dramatic fiction exists about the conflict between children and mothers.)

And now for the traditional New Year's resolution post - what to look forward to in 2020?  When we were talking at dinner about our one best memory of 2019  - even one best thing per month - it was hard to decide. We did a lot of traveling and hosting this year, which must be why even though we have fewer kids at home, we feel just as busy.  I'm hoping 2020 has a slower pace, time to savor the good things.  One of my resolutions is to make photo books - or at least print photos and put them in albums, so we can enjoy them. Part of the fun of travel and adventure is enjoying the memories, and we haven't had time to do that as much. Poor LK loves to look at old photos, but we have so few printed of her life (although she has been photographed more than any of our other children.).

So action item for 2020 - print photos.

Admittedly, however, we are already planning a few trips: one in February for Junior parents' weekend in South Bend, although in this case it is to attend "Expo Roma" for our fourth-year architecture son.  And we are going to visit Pepperdine and Westmont College in late January and February with our senior daughter as she makes college decisions.  Pepperdine has the advantage of being nationally known, but Westmont has been generous with aid and invitations to an honors program - there is something to be said for being courted.

After those trips, though, life should be quieter at home because my husband will travel for work.

So what else? One of the themes that kept coming up during Advent this year was relinquishing control and giving up criticism (which often results during moments when things are out of control). Our priest said in a homily about joy in Advent that the opposite of joy is control.  That cut close. The reflection the sister gave at the retreat I attended spoke about embracing our life as it is, not as we wish it would be - the temptation of wishing things were otherwise. And then in the homily on the Feast of the Holy Family, the priest at the church we were visiting preached about being as kind to our family as we are to strangers, in other words, loving our family for who they are so that we don't discourage each other, as the letter from Paul instructs.  For book club I've been reading Colleen Carroll Campbell's The Heart of Perfection, which contains another message about control.  The message seems pretty clear - control less, love more.

That WSJ article I mentioned in the last post had a good counter-action: Since these researchers found that it takes four good interactions to counteract one negative event, I think I need to hearken back to the advice of those relationship experts who recommend paying out more compliments than criticisms, an action that is not native to me.  I'm not much good at the "words of affirmation" love language, but I hereby resolve to engage in more positive reinforcement than negative words.

Part of this resolution means I need to silence my own inner self-critic more fervently, since often my frustration with others stems from a frustration with myself. But I think a more positive action to take would be to refocus again on gratitude, on noting the positives of each day, so revisiting the daily habit of writing down good things that happen each day, even if only in note form, is an action that may help to silence the critic inside.

A quick review of last year's resolutions reminds me that I made the commitment to continue writing down what I'm grateful for each day last year, but that practice dropped off at some point. Time to resurrection it.

So my spiritual goal is to note the beauty and goodness around me and let my family know more often that I see those qualities in them.

That's also kind of a family resolution - last year my resolution was to make memories with the fam, a goal we met, I'd say. So this year my goal is to document and relive those - as mentioned above.

Another family goal - attend some plays or concerts.  I meant to get tickets to a Nutcracker performance or some other holiday show, but that didn't happen this year.  Although at one point in time, when we were homeschooling in Virginia, I was pretty good about taking the kids to performances for kids - plays, the symphony, reenactments, exhibits - we haven't done much in the way of supporting the arts lately, so add that to the list.

We also have dropped off in regularly gathering for family prayers, so that's another practice I'd like to resurrect. With the teens doing homework at night when the youngest is ready for bed, it is hard to gather everyone for a rosary as we used to do. Perhaps we can find a new form or time for gathering, or be content with just a Sunday night rosary?

Last year my academic/intellectual goal was to research colleges and kindergartens - this year I will have to decide again about school or home school for the youngest, and finish the college decision, which is now an a or b choice.  I also need to decide whether I am going to invest more in developing as a teacher.  Writing that academic paper was a challenge for me this fall, partly because I need more practice. So I hereby resolve to write at least one more paper and to revise my composition syllabus with new readings to reinvigorate that class.  But along with developing those practices, I also need to balance the time I give to teaching with parenting time -- and sleep, which helps me with both of those -- so I need to learn to write faster, and that good enough is good enough - no need to be perfect, a desire for which prevents any writing from getting done.

Finally, a fitness goal is easy this year to articulate, if not to achieve- get more sleep. I've been making do with an average of about six hours. Too many five hour nights result in an irritable mom. This means I have to be more disciplined about reading late at night. I didn't do so well with adding strength training in, which was part of last year's goal, as well as the yearly drink more water, eat less sugar, get more sleep... ditto, every year. . . .

So to review: 1. Family goal: Print photos and attend a performance or two, 2, Spiritual goals: give compliments, note blessings, gather for prayers at least once a week, 3. Academic: Reorganize syllabus and write another paper 4. Fitness; get more sleep - aiming for a  7 hour average (and eat less sugar/drink more water, add in strength training). 

Now time to start the day and the year!

The Last Day

Goodbye to another decade! I just realized the kindergartner doesn't understand that the year will change tomorrow as we start a new month, a new year, a new decade. We're still enjoying our Christmas tree and decorations for a few more days and have just returned from a vacation in the Eastern Sierras - the same place we went last year to enjoy snow, mountain air, and family togetherness.  Again, we met up with the cousins and stayed in a house with beds for 22, a fire place and hot tub, and access to trails around a glacial lake. It was not a huge house, but cozy and spacious enough to not feel cramped. We played board games, cards, and read. The kids did check their phones, but not as much as they are usually tempted to do. We went into Mammoth for lunch, groceries, a Mass with an excellent Feast of the Holy Family homily, and a trip to the ER for stitches and a broken thumb after the five year old shut her thumb in the car door. I admittedly had more trouble relaxing this time than I did last year, perhaps because of the thumb incident. And one kid is still in a knee brace after ACL surgery and the other is only a month post-op, so both of them were limited in their outdoor play. Somehow the days went by so fast, I never felt like I settled in, although I did love my vigorous hike alone one morning during which I mused on the direction life might take next year and tried to come to peace with some upcoming changes, past disappointments, and future desires. All very new yearish thoughts.  It was timely that this morning's Wall Street Journal had an article about how negative events stay with us more than positive ones. I certainly recognize the tendency in myself to dwell more on personal flaws and regrets than successes. (One of my favorite gifts under the Christmas tree: My kids pitched in for a subscription to WSJ - student rate, but still.  Second favorite - a new watch. My experiment in watchlessness was frustrating. Kids mostly received clothes this year, half of which I took back, as usual. A couple kids got just what they wanted (the youngers), but the olders have upcoming or just-past travel that they received funding for. Next year I plan to do Merry Thriftsmas gifts...)

A few photos to share, then I have to get back to cleaning for a new year's teen gathering...