Winter Cold Moon
Would never have thought to say it this way, but it’s true. 
when I met you,
flowers started growing
in the darkest parts of my mind
Category Archives: Family
Grandpop’s Story Time
Winter Cold Moon
At lunch on Friday Allison reminded me of a long ago passion: theatre. I got started with the role of the Stage Manager in Our Town, a high school production. After that I acted and danced (yes, really!) through college and seminary. I’ve not done anything with it since then because theatre work demands so much time.
But. Allison suggested spoken word performance. I’d not thought of it in years. Still, as the idea turned over and over, I hit on something I would enjoy. And here’s the first one.
Good Morning. Good Afternoon. Good Night.
Winter New (Cold) Moon
When Mark and Mary and I spoke today, it went like this: “Good morning, Charlie.”
“Good afternoon, Mark.” “Good night, Mary.” 8 am here. 5 pm Riyadh. 10 pm Singapore.
Another interesting aspect here. Solar weather can upset internet connections over global spans. Felt like we may have had some today. Mark’s connection seems to be the weakest of the three. Whether that’s Saudi tech or Mark tech or, in this case, the sun itself, hard to say.
Woolly brother Bill Schmidt down with a bad cold as the 2013 flu season begins to reach saturations last seen during the pandemic. The older we get and the frailer we get, the more problematic the flu can become, a fact strongly underlined by the death of two healthy teenagers in Minnesota this season.
The flu shot, they say, is 60% effective. Good, but far from perfect. That leaves 40 out of a 100 still exposed. A large number. But, better than 100%.
4 more tours with Qin Shi Huang Di, then blank mornings on the calendar.
Going to the Movies
Winter Moon of the Winter Solstice
Kate and I saw Les Miserables and Django Unchained today, our new year’s party. Afterward we had dinner at Tanner’s, a restaurant near the theatre. A fun start to the new year.
You’ve probably read the reviews, but if you haven’t, both of these movies are worth seeing. Les Mis is a known tear jerker and this one lived up to that reputation at several spots. I found Valjean’s doggedness as a father and the revolutionary French youth at the barricades especially moving.
Funny, angry, sensitive, homage and satirical at turns Django shows Tarantino for the great director that he is. Django Unchained is a swipe at the Western, the fate of black actors in movies and the bounty hunting trade. Christopher Waltz as Dr. King Schulz and Jamie Foxx as Django have great chemistry, forming an unlikely team.
It Was A Very Bad Year
Winter Moon of the Winter Solstice
2012 has begun to fade into the past, most of its days now tailing off behind, most lost from memory, all passed into history. It was, as all years are, a bad year. The death of Regina Schmidt in September marked the first incursion of this finality into the immediate life of the Woolly Mammoths, that is, our spouses and ourselves. While no death can be said to be bad, since death is a part and a necessary part of life, still it contains the pain of loss, the unsettling reminder that our life, too, will end and opens a hole in the social structure of family and friends. We will miss her.
Warren and Sheryl lost, in relatively quick succession, three parents, having lost the fourth not long before these. Sheryl’s father died first, then her mother, then Warren’s mother, then his father. In the case of the Fairbank’s and Wolfe’s families this left both with sudden needs to reassess, reconfigure and learn how to live without their oldest generation.
Yin lost her mother, Moon, this year, too. Moon emigrated from China with the young Yin, so they had not been apart for all those years. The last several years Moon lived with Scott and Yin.
My cousin Leisa continues to mend from a stroke last year and Ikey, the oldest of the Keaton cousins, died this year.
Then, too, there were the guns. The shootings. More of the continuing madness, our embrace of the things which kill us in such senseless, brutal, unnecessary ways. I happened to be in Colorado, staying only three miles from the Aurora theatre where movie attendees at a screening of the Dark Knight Rises were shot. And, like you I imagine, the shootings in Newton left me weak in the knees. Children. Young children.
And the NRA solution? A cruel satire, armed policemen in every school or, another alternative offered by gun rights advocates, arm teachers and principals and school psychologists. Yes, we need more guns to prevent more gun deaths. Can none of these guys see the serious flaw in this argument?
The country stumbled through the sort of end of the Great Recession, re-elected a middling President and saddled him with a congress unable to act. These are not good things.
Saturday
Winter Moon of the Winter Solstice
The long night has come and gone. The days have begun to grow longer, even if only by seconds. I’ll be happy to see the first flowers of spring, the bees coming and going again, the garlic pushing its way through the mulch; of course I will, but that is in its season. The season now is one of cold and darkness and I like it, too.
I have done my first compilation of Missing. It’s 110,000 words. A 320 page paperback, roughly. Using Scrivener makes the process of creating a manuscript from many different documents pretty easy. That’s not to say the first compilation is what I want. It’s not. Not quite. So, I’ll have to spend some time fussing with it tomorrow, but I don’t think it will too long to get one that pleases me.
On the downside I got so into this task and my workout that followed that I missed signals from Kate that she was locked out. Our garage door opener had quit working; she left it here and went out to do her nails. When she came back, I was already working out and she couldn’t get in. She was pretty steamed when she did. She slogged through the snow in her clogs. Not a happy camper at all.
Lalalalala
Samhain Moon of the Winter Solstice
Earlier this summer I went outside and found holes dug under the orchard fence. Vega and Rigel had figured out a new way inside. Once in they dug up the earth around three of our apple trees, in one case exposing about half the close in root system to the air. When I saw this latest breach of our attempts to lead two live, dog owners and gardeners, I froze. Something just crumpled. I couldn’t deal with another one. Not again. This was one time too many, the straw…well, you know how it goes.
I told Kate how I felt. She said she understood since it was the way she had felt the last couple of years working for Allina. That got me. What I experienced was almost disgust, a visceral abhorrence and she had felt that toward her employers. Wow.
Later on, after the feeling waned, I once again repaired the breach, came up with a new system of entrance denial, which Vega and Rigel promptly conquered. So, I went at it again, then winter came. We’re on hiatus now till spring with the ground frozen.
When I flipped on NPR today, as I drove over the pharmacy to pick up my drugs, there was a debate beginning on gun control. When I heard the opposing arguments, I had that same reaction. Disgust. Ultimate weariness. A not again feeling. I turned it off immediately. This is not the first time I’ve had this feeling about political discourse.
Each time I have it I turn off the radio, put down the newspaper. Put my fingers in my ears and go lalalalalala. Then, I think about all the years when I didn’t react like this. When, instead, I joined with others of like mind and took political action.
Each time I turn my head away from a political debate, I feel a frisson of guilt. If folks like me don’t stand up, then who will? And, the only necessity for the advancement of evil is for good men to do nothing. I know this. I believe it. I even realize the self-righteousness trap in this logic and know it must not defeat action. Still, at times, like yesterday, I turn away.
Am I certainly right? Of course not. Is my opinion as important and as valid as anyone else’s? Of course it is. And I’m not alone. Yet, at times, my feeling is that the political world has moved past me. That I’m too old, too short term, too distant, too something to do anything. At some point, I know, as with Vega and Rigel, I’ll lean in again, listen, parse, perhaps even organize.
Right now though. It’s lalalalalala all the way.
Moving Up the Emotional Scale
Samhain Thanksgiving Moon
I have a spotter in the world’s least emotional state, Singapore. Long term resident, sister Mary. Singapore, along with much of Asia, loves campaigns to improve public behavior. Mary spotted several current signs that attempt to deal with Singapore’s emotional flat line. Here they are:
This last one reveals a major part of the problem. No, not the sunflowers. But, soar like an eagle, dream believe achieve, learn from the best. These make happiness a tool for success. Ain’t gonna work. Happiness happens. It’s a secondary outcome of other attitudes and behaviors. Check out the positive psychology folks for example.
See Martin Seligman’s work at his website: authentic happiness.
Workin’
Samhain Thanksgiving Moon
Went through several verses of Jason and Medea, brain began to ache. Stopped. I have time on Friday to discuss the parts I didn’t get. Greg says the real way to advance in translating is to read, read, read. Which means translate, translate, translate. I can see it, but I have to pace it. It’s fun, but it’s also hard.
I’ve trimmed back my schedule, only outside the house commitment I have now is the MIA. And, of course, the Woollies. Since I finished the Mythology course on Sunday, that means I have almost ten days with very few interruptions. That means I can focus and work the way I find best, mornings hard at it and afternoons for clean up.
Kate’s sold more of her work to the store in Anoka; she plans to set up an Etsy site with my help and will apply tomorrow, too, to a consignment store situated next to the Red Stag. She’s having fun. Energized. Retirement has been good for her. I’m glad.
I’mmmm Baaaaccckkk.
Samhain Thanksgiving Moon
Coming back to the surface after a quick dip below into the land of lethargy and woe. (not really, it just rhymed and I liked the flow.) Still, feeling more normal this morning, ready to get back at the translating, see if I’m still interested enough to continue. I suspect that I am.
Tom, Warren, Stefan, Mark, Frank and I met last night at the Woodfire Grill in St. Louis Park. Discussed Stefan’s Dad. Possible congestive heart failure. Long term care insurance: ponzi scheme or important resource? The complexity of retirement related issues, especially health insurance of all kinds. Thanksgiving. Frank at his daughters with her in-laws. Mark’s 91 year old mother-in-law cooking a meal for 18. Warren’s family and their first Thanksgiving without either Mom or Dad. Tom and his grandson taking several steps at their home. Our visit to Denver where Jon and Jen took on their new role in the family by throwing their first thanksgiving. (as the child-rearing, career oriented generation)
Watched a TED talk on Monotasking. Not very good. Half hearted. Even so, I find the idea reinforcing since I tend to monotask. I like to focus on one thing for hours at a time, even weeks at a time. Over the last three months I had three priorities: Terra Cotta tour, Missing revision and the Mythology class. Each one required dedicated time, with no interruptions.
This is not new behavior for me. When I was in college and seminary, I went the same way, compartmentalizing study, friends and politics. During my working years with the Presbytery I did multi-task, a lot. I never like the way it felt. My feet never touched the ground and the next buzz was already building while one task got sat down.