Prepare the way

Tonight we'll have all nine of us under one roof again for the first time in a while - July?  Holiday jollity will ensue, to an extent.  Our plans for Christmas are subdued, like everyone else's. We'll go to Mass outside on Christmas Eve in the early evening - no midnight Mass.  We'll open lots of presents on Christmas morning, we'll watch some Christmas movies and eat lots of Christmas treats, and then we'll have a big feast on roast beast before sharing desserts with our friends whom we've seen regularly throughout - our quaranteam friends, or whatever cute name you want to call the people you feel safe gathering with.  I've resisted offering invitations to anyone (although I've been tempted and have considered ways to gather safely in the back yard with small groups - book club was gathering until this month because CA went back in the purple tier, and it's getting too dark and chilly to sit outside).  We obviously haven't had any work Christmas parties, or school Christmas concerts, or Church Christmas events.  I actually have the shopping done early. And Christmas cards are ready to go except for a few I mean to put notes in.  

To capture a bit of the Christmas spirit we have walked around the neighborhood in the early evenings to view the lights. We looked at the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn - but you can see better photos elsewhere. We've made and eaten  lots of cookies and delivered some to friends in the neighborhood. We've decorated our house and lit the Advent wreath, eaten the chocolates in the calendar, set out some of the Jesse tree pieces -more than usual, and had some feasts in honor of saints - but mainly because the kids wanted to try out new recipes and have an excuse to go to the Asian grocery and the Mexican mercado and the Italian market.  Having bored young adults around has kept us well fed. 

I hesitate to admit, but record here in the interest of our family record, that we did do something risky and probably unwise, but escaped unscathed. We took a trip to see my in-laws, whom we hadn't seen in 18 months. I had purchased the tickets at the end of October when cases were down and things were opening up, and the tickets were dirt cheap.  My thinking was that travel would be light between Thanksgiving and Christmas, although that reasoning didn't take into account the number of people who travel to ski destinations.  As the date of our trip approached and coronavirus cases began to skyrocket around the nation, I grew more and more apprehensive. We called the in-laws to cancel and offered to postpone our trip, but the grandparents were encouraging, and my husband didn't want to disappoint them. And the college kids who came home after Thanksgiving were encouraging. They had just returned from a campus of about 12,000 that had just under 2,000 cases over the semester. A large number, but according to them, the people who caught the virus (I almost wrote "got sick" but many of them weren't sick) were those who went to parties or hung out in each others' rooms without masks. The mask wearers/distancers rarely were infected. So they trusted the protocols.  As did my husband who goes to work every day with thousands of other service members who are compelled to follow government regulations. His command has had a handful of cases, but all were transmitted outside of work.  So he, too, trusted the protocols of masking, distancing, and washing hands.

Since what is in motion stays in motion unless a stronger opposing force halts the forward movement, we went on our trip.  In preparation, we cut off what few social events we have - walks around the neighborhood, meeting for coffee, beach trips with friends for the kids - and other than my husband going to work and trips to the grocery store, we quarantined for about ten days and got tested; all were negative.  The airports and planes were more crowded than I had expected, but 99% of people wore their masks and kept their distance.  Of course, the couple in front of me had to be reminded more than once by the stewardess to cover their noses and to keep their little girl's mask up, so they had me anxious the whole time. During our layover we went to the USO and stayed in a corner until our next flight.  But I was still a nervous wreck.  

Once we arrived at my in-laws, I tried to be mindful and reminded the kids to wash their hands frequently and watch their spacing. We did hug a few times, but I am afraid I was not especially warm company.  Our visit was only four days, and we spent them at my in-laws' house, playing games, watching movies, playing Nerf wars. We had a Thanksgiving/Christmas dinner one day.  On our fourth day, a beautiful, wet snow fell all night long. It blanketed the yard about 4 inches deep by the time we awoke. Our youngest was ecstatic, and the olders excited.  It was the perfect snow for snowman making and snowball fights, so the whole family bundled up the minimal winter gear we had brought or that Gram had stashed away and ran out for a rousing snowball fight.  When the snow was still falling after lunch, my husband began to pace and our fourteen year old, who already has a phobia about flying, began to whimper about plane delays and crashes.  But our 7 pm flight left on time, not quite as full, and our return trip was safe and uneventful.

A couple days after we got home, we all got tested again.  Negative x7. (Our oldest in Arizona couldn't go, and my husband didn't test because of different protocols.) I breathed a little easier, and now that it has been two weeks since our return I am even more at ease. I am a little sorry I wasn't more affectionate during our visit, but I am not writing this to encourage people to travel.  Our experience does give me more faith in the safety claims of airlines, but the numbers continue to rise, and just because we escaped the bullet this time doesn't mean we would the next time.  

I'd like to offer some better meaningful reflection on our trip, but I've got to finish those cards and say good morning to my children.  I've written and deleted a few sentences about my thoughts about this trip but I can't quite articulate what.  I'd like to think of something in the Christmas spirit to do today, but one wants to go to the DMV for a driver's permit test today. I don't know if I can manage it today, but sooner than I am ready, we'll have 5 licensed drivers in the family.  I wonder if I will ever be quite ready for Christmas, and life... 

A neighbor's Christmas fountain planting

 

Lights around the 'hood

Modelling a new dress made by our neighbor

 

Snow! The first morning tracks...

Oliver

The yard post-snowball war

One of many feasts - chicken parmesan

Tree decorating

At least one person is still exciting about St. Nicholas day

Handknit sweater concocted by college son done with school and ready to create

Week 1 - how did 3 more weeks pass so quickly? 

A quiet evening on the beach. 

 

Short reviews

 Happy First Sunday of Advent! 

Already, yikes!  I'd like to post something thoughtful about preparing for Christ, but I'm feeling unmoved by the traditional reflections. They are ringing a bit stale - is this what happens after years of repetition or is the weariness the result of too many thoughtful social media posts urging people to be nice and good?  

Granted, I'm a little grumpy after being corrected twice in as many days by the citizen police around here. Yesterday it was the little old lady yelling out her car window that we need to stop at stop signs on our bikes.  Yes, yes, I know bikers are supposed to follow the rules of the road, and I usually do slow down significantly on my bike at stop signs.  Yesterday we were guilty of what I would call a "California right turn at a stop" instead of a California stop - we turned right after slowing, instead of after making a complete stop. Meanwhile the geriatric volunteer virtue policewoman was doing some sort of slow U Turn in the intersection - equally dangerous, I might claim. 

Today my crime was letting the puppy walk on the grass alongside the sidewalk in the park where "NO DOGS ALLOWED" is clearly posted. I know dogs aren't allowed in this park. I edged off the sidewalk because an old man was approaching, and I was talking to my aunt on my phone while I was walking the dog, so my mask was down.  I was walking in the grass next to the sidewalk because I was trying to give this guy a wide berth so he wouldn't think I was spluttering Covid germs on him, but instead he yelled at me three times, "No dogs in the park! No dogs in the park! No dogs in the park!" Geez. I was obviously walking the dog on by and not playing in the park. And anyway, I was close enough to the sidewalk that I was probably technically still in the public right of way and not in the park.  Now that I think of it, he wasn't wearing a mask as he yelled at me - if I weren't talking to my aunt, maybe I would have pointing that out to him: "Wear a mask! Wear a mask! Wear a mask!"

I know this sounds like a spoiled tweenager rant.  I understand their outrage. I have been equally irritated by scofflaws myself.  And it is proof that I need to read those Advent reflections and actually reflect on them and amend my response appropriately.  Really, I do feel sorry for these castigators. I know the self-righteous anger that wells up when others get away with something that inhibits my freedom or interrupts my peace of mind. That anger occurs when I am feeling cheated or duped or somehow betrayed or when my self worth is shriveled. 

The truth is that no exterior changes are possible without interior conversion. And that conversion is a daily commitment. How is it that again I am listening to defensive voices in my head when I thought I had learned detachment?  How is it that I am again nursing some wound from a slight more imagined than real when I thought I was becoming more forgiving? How is it that I am again seeking creature comforts and evidence of achievement and progress when I know these desires only lead to emptiness, disappointment, and envy? 

And so let us light the candle and pray for hope that our sins will be forgiven and we will someday use the grace we have been given to love our difficult neighbors.

Perhaps the best Advent reflection of the day came from the movie I finally watched last night with the youngest and from a book review I stumbled across on Touchstone's website. The movie was Sweet Bean, a Japanese movie I checked out from the library weeks ago. It is way overdue, but our library isn't collecting fines right now.  No one in the house but me was interested in watching it, so I kept it, waiting for a night when I had time to watch a movie, and the TV was free.  The 6 year old watched it with me, and although the themes were mature, it contained nothing objectionable.  It was quiet and slow, so I thought she would get bored, but she is sensitive (did I mention how she bawled watching Cheaper by the Dozen a couple weeks ago?) and enjoyed cuddling with me, so she watched the whole thing.

Spoilers ahead; The story follows Sentaro, a dorayaki chef, who glumly makes the pancakes filled with sweet bean paste in a tiny shop for customers who are primarily school girls and the occasional passerby. One day when the cherry blossoms are blooming profusely outside the shop, an old woman arrives and offers to work for Sentaro. At first he refuses because of her age, but after multiple visits from her, he finally agrees to let her work after she delivers some of her sweet been filling. It's deliciousness transports him.  When the word gets out about the new recipe, the shop begins to see a line of customers all day. But it turns out the shop's actual owner finds about that Tokue has spent all of her life in the leprosy sanitorium until it recently opened its gates.  It turns out Sentaro has been working to repay a debt after he has been in prison for hurting someone in a fist fight. Somehow the news about Tokue's disease gets out, and the customers all go away. Tokue returns to the sanitorium, and Sentaro mourns her and the business for weeks. One of the school girls, another misfit, finally convinces Sentaro to go and visit Tokue because she has to give away her canary, and she wants to give it to the old woman. The two of them visit Tokue at the sanitorium, where they meet her friend with whom she learned to cook. Their circumscribed existence exudes beauty and joy because of their friendship and the food they have shared. The reason Tokue's bean paste is so good is because she listens to the beans and takes her time, talking to them as she cooks. The next time Sentaro and the school girl (Wakana?) go to see Tokue, she has died of pneumonia, but she left them a tape recorded message. In this message she muses about how everything has a story and everyone's life has meaning; no one has to be anyone special. This is the secret that has made Tokue a cheerful, grateful old woman, who appreciated all the simple pleasures and surprises in life.  Existence is its own gift. The filmmaker shares Tokue's vision by letting the camera dwell on wind rustled cherry blossoms, on blowing leaves, running water, bubbling bean paste, sizzling pancakes.  It's a lovely little film, not at all the romance I expected from the summary on the box. I have thought about keeping it another week to force the kids to watch it, but I'm afraid I really should turn it in, and they have refused time and again. I can easily check it out and sneak it on again...

The book review that offered insight was for a book called The Squire by Enid Bagnold. I haven't read it, but I put it in my thriftbooks cart. It's the story of a 40+ year old wealthy Englishwoman birthing her fifth child while her husband is away in India on business. Bagnold, author of National Velvet, apparently worked on it for years as she birthed her own four children. She apparently wanted to write a book that realistically portrayed the experience of childbirth. According to the Touchstone review, the book gives a positive portrayal of large family life. Some other reviewers criticized it because The Squire (the woman takes her husband's title while he is gone) has servants and money that make large family life easier than it is for most, but I appreciated the excerpt that suggested that she took satisfaction in her ability to give birth and mother children - a vocation that rooted and grew as she aged.  The most difficult part of being a parent of a large family - aside from the physical and emotional burdens mothers carry for and with their children - is the perception that mothers of large families are odd or half crazy or religious zealots, which may sometimes be the case, but that doesn't leave space for the fact that each child can multiply a mother's heart, can bring more light into the world, if received as a gift and not a curse. Not to minimize the struggles of parenting with this sentimental statement - perhaps I should say that every child multiplies the love and the swords that pierce a mother's heart.  It can be hard to find support in parenting a large family because of the fear that others will think we deserve the struggle for the folly of having more than two or three children.  Happily, there are friends willing to help who countermand the judgement of strangers. Not sure where I'm going with this, other than I look forward to reading a book about a mother who is confident and excited to welcome a fifth baby into her life even at her advanced maternal age, 

The other book I just finished was Brit Bennet's bestseller The Mothers. Bennet is a San Diego native, and the Oceanside community features strongly in the book. It's the story of a young Black teenager, Nadia Turner, who has a scholarship to study at U of Michigan. After her mother inexplicably commits suicide, she hooks up with her pastor's son and gets pregnant. The pastor's wife gives her son the money for Nadia to get an abortion. That all happens early in the book, so it's not really a spoiler. The rest of the book explores the relationships between Nadia, Luke (the pastor's son), her father, her friend Aubrey, and the people of the Upper Room Fellowship. The choices Nadia and Luke make that summer haunt them the rest of their lives. The book doesn't necessarily condemn abortion, but it certainly allows space for an abortion to affect - if not haunt - the people who were involved. It's a sad book, one in which people either say too much or too little to one another.  And although I would call it a hard book to read, it's also a page turner - I was craving something like this to get lost in as a reward for grading papers all last week. 

Now I have to go back to grading the final papers of the term. I'm distracted by Cyber Monday deals, even though I stayed up way too late last night trying to please all the faces who appear in our annual Christmas card photo by finding a picture that everyone likes.  Ironically, after taking votes and wasting hours on that project because there was NO consensus between the three photos that have all 7 kids in them, I realized while checking out that it is cheaper to order more prints that less, so I ordered 100 extra of all three poses, and SAVED money. How is it cheaper to buy 200 cards than 100? Not just cheaper by the print - but overall. So now I've got plenty of extras coming! And my daughter with the good handwriting heading home tomorrow to address the envelopes...

Giving thanks

I started this a few days ago, and now Thanksgiving is here. We are a small group - just the three youngest are home. And they are a bit mopey, admittedly. They miss the crowd; we all do, but I'm glad they are sharing the feast with family.  The college kids are all at their grandparents, while our oldest is roasting a chicken with his fiancee for Thanksgiving. It has been a quiet day, but we all are healthy, and soon we will are be together. I'm grateful for the calls from the big kids and the photos they are sharing of their roasted birds and fall ambles around their neighborhoods.  And we've had a fun morning here: Mass, pie making, a walk to the beach, a few rounds of Just Dance on the Wii, more baking, a few chores; soon we'll be sitting down to eat, grateful for a slow day together. 

Thoughts from Tuesday morning:

The holidays are drawing near, and I am EXCITED! I am very nearly done with one of my toughest semesters ever, my big kids are coming home soon, and I've got a real hankering to hunker down with them and share warm drinks and books, or popcorn and movies, and conversation or games or whatever they want to do.  I am so grateful that my kids are growing into young adults with whom I like spending time. If they don't want to get jobs and just want to live at home in the basement, I don't really mind, as long as they do laundry and dishes and scrub their own toilet and shower - and take turns cooking. I have one fantasy future life where my husby and I buy a little Winnebago, and we drive around and take turns living in their driveways, and my other future fantasy life is that we find a big mountain lake home with a great wrap-around front porch and a fishing pier, and they all take turns coming to live with us.  

But right now I am grateful we don't have to split our time between spending hours with them and spending hours prepping for hosting Christmas parties or getting dressed up and going to parties. 

Don't get me wrong; I love a good party. I love getting dressed up. And I am really sad that my husband's last year in the Navy is during this Covid pandemic because there will be no last Christmas wardroom party, no last Seabee ball, no last dining out... I picked up a new cocktail dress last year at the end of the season, and now I have no place to wear it! What if he never gets to wear his dress blues again? (which are really black) Will I ever see him in his Seabee tartan tie and cummerbund, bee buttons, and OK City Seal cufflinks again? Woe. 

BUT back to pandemic plusses: one party a season is enough for me, and some years we have multiple parties. And as much as I like the idea of hosting holiday events, they wear me out and leave me anxious about party faux pas (a sign that despite a busy social calendar, at heart I am an introvert). I love the Covid version of hospitality: a couple friends stop by on their evening walk while we are sitting on the front porch watching the sun set with our pre-dinner glass of wine, and they join us on the porch - outside, six feet apart, of course.  This has happened only a couple of times in reality, but in my faulty memory, it may grow into a legend of frequency. 

What does our holiday really look like this year?  My husband came home from the grocery on Sunday afternoon and cheerfully announced he bought the smallest turkey he could find. We did not plan before he went to the store, so my first response, was "Oh no, why?!"  I want leftovers! Since it was so cheap ($5 for 13 lbs at the commissary - not an organic, farm raised bird), I sent him back for another one. 

He bought this tiny turkey because we are only going to have 3 children at home for the Thanksgiving meal. The college kids will return just after spending the holiday with their grandparents, and the oldest in Arizona will be home for Christmas. He had planned to come here and go to my brother-in-law's with us, but because of the recent surge, we all are staying put.  His work has instituted a 2 week work from home policy for anyone who leaves the state.  He'll do that after Christmas. 

So for now our dinner will be petite. We may include our daughter's friend and her mom, who have been a part of our "bubble" since the beginning of the pandemic, but they haven't responded yes or no, yet. I think they are waiting to hear from their older sons to see what if they will return or not. We still intend to make all the dishes except stuffing - mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potato casserole, corn pudding, cranberry relish,  homemade dinner rolls, the turkey and something green - probably brussel sprouts. We'll still make three pies: pumpkin, cherry, and apple, because not much is better than pie for breakfast.  And we've got a bottle of prosecco and some good cheese for the pre-meal snack, and some decent wine and Martinelli's for dinner. We'll feel festive and full. 

And I'm happy to have had the opportunity to do some good deeds this past week, also. The kids and I helped fill Thanksgiving boxes for a local school for homeless students, and we helped pick up leftover donated Halloween candy from various schools for the orphanage in Tijuana our church serves.  It will be distributed with other gifts. I have mixed emotions about the value of donating Halloween junk food, but joy comes in many forms. I finally got around to sending some overdue wedding and new baby gifts, made a dinner for a friend who is sick, and wrote a few thank you notes for past kindnesses. In between having the opportunity and the ability to serve, the time to give, and the generosity of others to recognize, we are feeling very grateful. 

This won't be the most memorable Thanksgiving, but in some ways we feel more aware of how very blessed we are to be healthy, safe, well fed, and loved. We pray for those whose struggles make this day a difficult one, whether they are alone or just lonely, ill, hungry, cold, homeless, struggling with mental, physical, or financial problems, or weighed by grief and anxiety. Whatever their burdens may be, may God be with them. 

November feasts

Happy feast of All Souls and a belated Feast of All Saints!  Our celebration was marked by eating lots of candy left over from Halloween, which conveniently fell on a Saturday before Fall Back time changes.  What could have been a great excuse to have a late night party was just a good excuse to watch scary movies past midnight. (Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Slayer, anyone? Sorry, Abe, I couldn't stay awake to see how your honesty might be tested, and I forgot to ask the kids how it ended. The kids also watched the original Ghostbusters, which is the inspiration for some cute little kid costumes for the DIY crowd, but I wonder how many of those littles will be begging to watch the film before they are old enough to overlook the innuendoes...) 

To mark the holy days, we pulled out some coloring pages and lit a candle with saint stickers on it. Usually I set up the photos of the great-grandparents and line up our selection of pewter saints on the table. Maybe tomorrow... Our pewter saint selection contains patrons of each of the kids' name saints and most of their confirmation saints, but St. Elizabeth of Hungary was sold out this year. I waited months before finally contacting the company and asking for a refund.  They offered to send one of those cheap plastic saint statues painted by machines that miss the exact placement of the eyes and lips, but I declined. 

We actually did have a festive brunch with homemade cinnamon rolls that didn't quite complete their second rise. Our oldest came home for the weekend - well, he stopped in at the house as a rest stop on the way to and from visiting his friend in Ventura whose first baby was baptised this weekend. Almost like a grandbaby! The baby was born a couple weeks ago, but I haven't sent a gift yet. I have about 5 different books in the cart, but can't decide which ones to send.  Do you like to send books as baby gifts? Do you have a favorite go-to baptism gift for a young Catholic family? I'm thinking A for Altar to read and appreciate now and The Clown of God to appreciate later, but I like some of the newer baby board books out right now. Such pretty designs! We often send Richard Scarry's Best Storybook Ever as a baby gift, so I might send that, too, along with a stuffed lion in honor of the baby's name. Richard Scarry never gets old. 

For dinner tonight we ate baked chicken tenders that looked like bone fingers - as close to pan de muerto as we got.  I forgot about making it, partly because I spent all day talking to students in Zoom conferences. While these conferences have been the highlight of the semester, they have drained my days and my energy.  I met with some students in person one day on campus, masked and sitting across a six-footish table.  It was truly a delight to see them in person and talk to them instead of looking at their distracted faces or avatars on Zoom.  And it was a thrill to be on campus. The school where I teach is located right on the coast, along a cliff that overlooks a favorite surfing spot. People come to this school for the view.  We could easily hold class outside almost every day of the year, but it would be a bit distracting on a warm day to watch the surfers crest the waves below. 

Although I found the conferences to be really fruitful and a great way to give the students a chance to talk freely, they took up four entire days. Now I am behind on everything, grading, laundry, planning, dishes, teaching the first grader, motivating the high schoolers, exercising, making special feast day treats -- you name it.  Oh well. The end of the semester is three weeks away, plus an additional week for finals, which I hardly count. I'll be ready for a pause.  I've a big stack of books to read, after all the holiday prep is done... or the Covid Christmas version of holiday prep. The Christmas card letter will be short this year.

This week is full of big events, right? Tomorrow we can stop being confronted with election ads, even if the election decision continues to be postponed to count straggler mail in ballots.  Our church is holding a day of adoration and prayer for peace. I've signed up for an hour to pray for peace, for an end to the pandemic, and for all the people and things on my prayer list, even though I won't be praying for either candidate to win, and will instead be praying for peace in our hearts and peace in the whole world. 

I know my position as a conscientious objector to this election is not popular - I have been told by people on both sides that my refusal to vote is actually a vote for their opponent - so they each get a vote! Or ... neither does -  neither will be able to claim my vote in their tallies of the popular vote.  I did send in a ballot and voted for other offices and referendums after doing a little research. I am grateful we are still registered in Illinois as that ballot had about 8-10 bubbles to fill in, while the California ballot had dozens.  Our four young adults over the age of 18 each received a ballot at our home address, even though only one lives here, and one is not registered in California anymore.  It has the most complicated propositions in the nation, I would hazard to guess. 

I am not going to explain why I feel like I can't in good conscience vote for either candidate here, - but I am expressing my surprise at the number of people who responded negatively to Peggy Noonan's article in which she expresses her reasons for refusing to choose between Biden and Trump, and instead writing in a candidate. I looked it up online after reading it in the print edition of the Wall Street Journal because I was thinking about sharing it with a friend with whom I had been discussing this idea since we both had similar perspectives.  However, when I read it online, I was surprised to see that 901 people had taken time out of their day to write comments on this article.  How many of these 901 would take the time to compose a handwritten letter to the editor that might be printed in the hard copy of the paper?  I hazard to guess only a small portion - although I could be mistaken.  I was surprised to see how many angry commenters there were - which led me to keep reading, wasting my own time.  These angry commenters appeared to take both positions: How dare you not vote against Trump and for Biden? How dare you not vote against Biden and for Trump? (there seems to a be a number of people who see voting as a way to vote AGAINST someone instead of FOR someone else.) 

Here is a long portion of what Noonan wrote.  I can see why some people might be angered by her position.

October Update

Here we are a month later, deep into fall. In southern California that means we have had some of the warmest weather all year.  The pool has had a lot of use.  I've been craving cooler weather, but not minding the warmth.  I relish the heavy feeling of a warm day - probably because the days aren't relentlessly warm here, as they are in, say, Tucson, Arizona.

Our son in Tucson and his fiancee came to visit us earlier in the month to escape the heat. It was in the 80s here that weekend, but for them it was a relief from the 100s in Tucson. They spent a good portion of the weekend at the beach, and we had an Octoberfest dinner out on the back patio one night with our neighbors who used to live in Germany. The warm day made it little hard to pack away as much spaetzle and potatoes as I would have liked; the homemade pretzels and cold beer would have been enough of a meal. 

Much of the last three weeks I spent buried in books. After happily reading books and articles for the paper I committed to present at the online conference for Christianity and Literature, I finally had to sit down for hours and write.  I forget how long it takes to write and think.  I tell my students this all the time: writing is not a short process. I should have started this paper a month earlier.  As I was writing, I realized I had way too much material about Wendell Berry and Gary Snyder AND David James Duncan and Brian Doyle to fit both into a 12 page paper without skimming over a big portion of their work - which would have worked, but I didn't leave myself enough time to work out what I wanted to leave out because I had found so much wonderful material. My idea was to compare their letters with their work, but because I am not well versed in Gary Snyder's work, and because there is so much about Wendell Berry, I decided to just focus on DJD and BD, whose letters are not published, but DJD wrote a really moving tribute to BD in the intro to One Long River of Song, and by combing through their essays and the internet, I found several correspondences between the two - both literal letters and email exchanges and correspondences in their work. So that's what I ended up writing about.  It was still too long for a 20 minute presentation, so I had to skip a few  paragraphs. I think I should fix it up and submit it somewhere. I just don't know where, and after spending so many hours working on it, I don't want to look at it again for awhile. 

The online conference was actually more enjoyable than I expected. As I mentioned, the theme was friendship. I listened in on a couple of sessions - although because the conference was held on a Friday and Saturday, I had other activities scheduled to attend. That's the drawback of a virtual conference - I wasn't committed to being at other sessions. The other presenter in my section wrote about Marilyn Robinson's Housekeeping, which was good - Robinson has a new book out that I would like to read, but I think I might need to revisit Gilead.  About six other people listened in to our talks, and the conversation after we both presented was friendly and, well, conversational, instead of stiff and obligatory.  

And the keynote speech by Paul Waddell, a professor at St Norbert College, about an ethics of friendship was really good. He compared the classical definition of friendship Christianized by Aelred with Augustine's warning about being too attached to friends, but moved away from the ideal to the practical to make the point that our faith calls us to be hospitable, to be a friend and neighbor to all. He proposed a politics of charity to enact that ethic of friendship. I wish I had taken notes to explain more clearly, but I was listening in while catching up for work on class. I made the mistake of scheduling papers due the week before this conference, so I had fifty some essays to grade, in addition to grading the regular assignments AND trying to finish my own paper.  Not good timing. 

But last week I caught up, almost. I used to be two weeks ahead in publishing my online course material; now I'm a weekend ahead. We have four weeks left before finals, and two of those weeks are dedicated to presentations, so I need to finish out the year this weekend - or that was my plan. The weekend somehow slid by without much work being accomplished because I spent time with the kids on Saturday, and Sunday we had a marriage prep meeting with our mentee couple, and I had coffee with a friend in the morning after Mass. Our husbands went on retreat this weekend, so we had our own sharing session over a dark brew.  

Our conversation mostly centered on job transitions, in addition to discussions of women working (re: Amy Coney Barrett). online high school frustrations, and issues surrounding gender and sexuality.  Her husband retired this spring; mine just decided this week that he will officially retire this summer, which I have anticipated for twenty years, but now find terrifying.  Why now, you may ask? I'm asking myself the same question, even though this has been the general plan for years.  We didn't plan for a pandemic or a wedding the month before, but here we are. We've come to the point of facing either retirement or committing to a move we don't want to make. More to come on that decision. 

Other news of the month? I haven't yet mailed in my ballot, but I suppose I will this week. I just want to put my head in the sand for the next four years, regardless of who is elected. I am probably going to write in a candidate like last time around, even though advocates for both sides will tell me that my nonvote is a vote for the other person.  Our church is having adoration the day of the election, so I will pray for unity and peace whatever the outcome may be. 

We have done some fall activities - the pumpkin patch, a short hike on Saturday, pumpkin bread baking. The youngest and I participated in some home school activities - Little Flowers and a recitation day.  She can't stop talking about Halloween, even though I am not sure what that evening is going to look like. I hope we can assuage her desire to dress up and get candy by going to a couple of friends' houses.  I do not want to make a candy chute, but I bought a lot of goodies, and may just leave the bowl in front of our house even if some pre-teen might come and swipe all of it. 

I need to turn my attention now to home school - which has been very light lately. Our recitation day was a big success, but I feel like I need to do some of the fun activities that make home school more hands-on. We haven't done a science lab or history project since the first month.  Reading, arithmetic, and religion get done daily - but the other subjects often get postponed - or are just reading a story from the library about a scientist or a chapter from our history book. Does watching Magic School Bus videos count as science? Time for an injection of delight back into learning.  

Actually, I'm not giving credit to our wonderful field trip we had on Thursday to the pioneer farm. The kids learned about cider making and made corn husk dolls - and then learned about reptiles. I'm not sure why this place has a reptile zoo, but it was fun to hold snakes, pet water dogs (larval salamanders), and learn about geckos. 

Recitation Day: "What is pink" by Christina Rosetti

Tree climbing

Pumpkin haul

A daddy/daughter campout at the beahc

Our farm co-op box: a great haul this time for $35, delivered

Fall color at our house is pink

This hibiscus is hard to capture with an iphone 6 - but I'm not upgrading to 12.

Portrait of plumeria and pumpkin

Our front walkway is really a profusion of pink right now: the oleander and lantana are also blooming

Son number two has a bi-line on an article profiling craftsmen he interviewed this summer during his online internship

Pumpkin patch visit

Corn maze

Friendly goats

Piggy goats

Not so friendly sheep

Oktoberfest

Our dog and his friend we were dog sitting - these guys were mostly a whirling dervish of fur for the weekend.

Basking after hours of play

The little guy is actually a great runner - did a 5 miler the other day

Ballots any one?

We hosted a couple of small socials with work friends. This one was particularly social - perhaps because of the 3 liter...

Swimmer! Swim team started last month - no meets but intersquad scrimmages to practice. 

She's doing great!

 

Sailing through September

As they do for many if not most people lately, the hours have been long and the days short.  I have a checklist that keeps growing instead of getting shorter.  But I'm taking a midmonth pause from the to-do list to catch up the continuing saga of life 'round here, although we don't have much to report in the way of events - mostly conversations about the news. 

I think I left off last time having attended the home school meeting.  Since then, I have read a few more articles about the "Mass Exodus" movement. This group of people who discuss moving to other states is much larger than I realized.   In fact, there are many who contemplate moving from one state to another where others are contemplating moving from.  So total population may shift but not actually change.  There are maps that identify states friendly to home schooling, friendly to anti-vaxxers, friendly to people who don't want to pay high property taxes.  You can pick a state that is more liberal or more conservative - and people who are in those first 3 groups could be either liberal or conservative, although I suppose if you were more liberal you would have a hard time leaving a state because you didn't want to pay high property taxes.  

Since we are in the middle of contemplating a move ourselves, a move that we may have some choice in, I've been sifting through some of these maps  - I like the one that shows the rate that different states tax military retirement income and the map of places with access to outdoor recreation. My daughter made a map where she outlined states that she absolutely would not move to and states that she would consider and states that she would prefer.  Her basis of choice is where she perceives she would be safe. She doesn't like the DC area because of concerns about kidnapping and sex trafficking, but we live in one of the cities with the very highest rates of those crimes in the country - if not the world. This reputable site maps economic issues - highest rate of personal consumption expenditures and highest rate of economic resources from outdoor recreation were two I looked up.  Also on our list of consideration is where our children might end up and where our family currently lives.  Seeing as we have one child who swears she is never leaving California and another who will probably head east after graduation, and five others who may end up anywhere, basing our home address one proximity to our offspring will be hard.

A friend and I went for a hike this weekend and discussed our ideal home, and we both were in agreement that we'd like to have a smallish permanent address but then own a big ramshackle vacation home where everyone can gather in the summers. I'm partial to the lake home vs. the beach house, and even better if the lake house is in the mountains - a place where there isn't much to do except swim, hike, eat well, and sit on the back porch and read.  We'd go stay the summer there, and the kids could all come for their vacations with the grandkids at various times, overlapping perhaps for the Fourth of July. 

But wait - that's for old people! - we're talking about retirement, but it's not REALLY retirement! We have a whole lifetime to live still... maybe. I have trouble remembering how old we really are, especially when even though I could have a grandchild in a year or two, I'm still concerned about getting pregnant. 

Our deadline for making an actual choice about staying in the Navy or getting out keeps getting postponed - it used to be June? Now it might be October? More and more it looks like retirement is the direction we are heading, but the state of the economy and the ease of staying put here one more year to get our son who will be a senior through high school are our two biggest concerns when we consider staying in.  I have to admit, although I complain regularly about living here, it will be hard to leave the good weather, the proximity to mountains and shore, the ease of getting to the library, the grocery store, the church, our friends' back porch... 

On the other hand, I still am frustrated with our school and our church for not providing our kids with the education I should be giving them myself - other than that the teenagers really would benefit from hearing someone else say, "Mass is a wonderful thing!" "Reading will broaden your world, open doors, expand your heart and mind, fill your hours with ideas and images that will give you more satisfaction than that video game or app..."  I've been to three planning meetings about how we can safely provide catechesis during the coronavirus, and each one we have come up with good ideas, and then a couple weeks later, I hear we aren't doing anything.  It makes me contemplate exodus to a different parish.

Perhaps reading Christine Watkins' The Warning for our book club last week was not the best idea.  One of our book club members has lately been hooked on end of the world videos and ideas. This book has been getting a lot of word of mouth promotion in certain circles. I actually talked to our priest about it this weekend, and he seemed very hesitant to give any credence to personal visions and locutions. 

The book is a compilation of stories of people who have had an "illumination of conscience" followed by a radical conversion - although one person was a nun who was simply lazy and indulgent.  The illumination is a vision of their sins and the punishment they should receive for them. The part that arouses skepticism is the prediction that everyone in the world will experience this illumination at the same time in the near future. Time will stop and people will have their personal vision. Airplanes will be paused in the sky.  Some people will die of fright, others will be converted, and others will find an excuse for it, such as calling it a technological glitch.  One seer said it would happen in her lifetime, but now she is nearly 70. These seers include the visionaries from Garabandal, Spain, and Matthew Kelly, but the others I have never heard of, although they apparently sometimes become circuit preachers. 

I am a natural skeptic, but I don't doubt that these people had some sort of vision of their own need for conversion. Our book club was pretty split between readers who see these seers as prophets, and those who see that we all have to prepare for our end, as Jesus tells us, but that anything that predicts a day or time is questionable. 

It is easy to see why apocalyptic forecasts are gaining traction: Fires, earthquakes, pandemics, hurricanes, flooding.  Over Labor Day weekend, ash from the fires in the hills to the east of San Diego fell on our picnic table, although we are an hour away. This was the fire started by the gender reveal party, if you have seen the memes. What a terrible sense of guilt that couple must carry, especially since at least one firefighter died.

The death of Justice Ginsburg on the eve of Rosh Hoshannah is another seemingly apocalyptic moment - I dread the hostilities that are sure to erupt - although I have to admit that I am secretly cheering for Amy Coney Barrett, mother of seven, Notre Dame professor.... Time to quit social media.  I wish we could start the election season over again, with two entirely different candidates.  Why are we stuck with two choices of whom most people aren't really fans, even if they do like the policies?  Is it too late to mount a write-in campaign for a candidate who actually is honest and committed to the well being of the American people and not just to his political success?

That's all I have to say about politics. 

In domestic news -- well, the puppy is doing great.  He is basically housetrained, he doesn't shed, he doesn't destroy much except tissues, and he is entertaining to watch. He's such a strange looking little guy and he has some really amusing habits and expressions.  I wouldn't feel guilty about saying he is an emotional support animal in order to get him on a plane because the kids have really found him a source of joy and affection. Even if he is weird looking.

The kids are healthy. They just had well-checks. The 16 year old is just shy of 6'5.'' I had to buy him more new shoes, even though we don't need to do back to school shopping, because he outgrew his old ones. His toe had rubbed a hole in the end of the shoes I bought around Easter. This kid is hard on shoes.  The bad news was that we also went to the dentist, and three of the kids had multiple cavities. Time to back off the corona candy and ice cream indulgences.  I suspect since we don't go many places that they aren't brushing their teeth in the mornings. 

The kids are also back to practicing sports, but not back to school. Doesn't this seem odd to you? Why can they gather on the football field and throw balls to each other or swim in the pool or run around the neighborhood with no masks on, but we are afraid for them to sit spaced out in a classroom (we could have outdoor classrooms here!) in masks? The school district recently sent a "survey" that questioned whether parents would commit to sending kids back in a hybrid situation. The parent community lit up the Facebook pages about it because not everyone received the email with the survey, and those who did receive it were frustrated because it was hidden in a long newsletter, and it wasn't clear at all that it was actually a commitment to 100% online learning if you didn't fill it out.  I was among those who didn't receive it. A friend texted about it, but she was asking me if I knew what the deal was. I had to call the high school about something else, so I asked about it, but nobody in the front office knew about it. By the end of the day, after the local Facebook page nearly exploded with comments from angry and confused parents, the district had sent a new email with clear instructions. Personally, the online situation has been going pretty smoothly around here, and I like the easy schedule, but if they could go back for woodworking and chem lab and ceramics class, I'm ready to send them in a heartbeat with no fears of viral infection.

My college kids have thus far remained free of illness, even though football season is now in full swing. Again - why can my kids in the Midwest go to football games, but my daughter enrolled in a college in California cannot go to class?  These are the questions that people who contemplate mass exodus ask. I don't want to be one of those people, but here I am. The other irritating thing to me is that although she is attending a private school, the state is apparently preventing them from opening, but the state university here has allowed students to move to campus and for lab students to take in person classes. An outbreak of cases around the university now has led the state to consider placing our county at the "purple" level again - which means no inside business.  The county is petitioning the state to exclude those numbers from the count for the county so that it can stay in the "red" level of business operations, and even move to the "yellow" level. That decision should come out today.

I fear that is politics again. In other news, I really enjoyed reading Distant Neighbors, the collection of letters between Gary Snyder and Wendell Berry. They are delightfully thoughtful, articulate, motivated to make a change in the way they use land and encourage others to use it. Snyder's Buddhist leanings and Berry's Christian perspective aren't taboo topics, but neither are they reasons to weaken the friendship, which develops primarily through writing letters and sharing essays and poetry, between occasional visits.  Stepping into the intimacy of their writings feels a bit voyeuristic, but I loved reading this exchange, and envied them their friendship. 

I am supposed to be writing a longish paper for a conference on friendship for the Christianity and Literature virtual conference in October. My focus is on these friendships of nature writers Snyder and Berry, David James Duncan and Brian Doyle, and initially I thought I would include a nod to the two Johns - Muir and Burroughs.  My focus is more expository than analytical; I just want to bask in the beauty of the their writings and not analyze them.  But I should be working on that rather than musing on the state of the world.  

Here are some photos to finish with: 

The funny fellow

A trip to the tide pools to touch anemones, chitons, limpets, barnacles, and a few dead crabs. I learned from the friendly park volunteer that lobsters molt. 

End of summer shaved ice.

Mountain lake. I could stay in a little cottage here a long time. Maybe forever.

Fall blooming mini lupine