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.

 

a failure to communicate

Winter                                                                     Moon of the Winter Solstice

How’s this for irony?  My Latin tutor, Greg, and I conduct our sessions on the phone.  Have done for three years now.  Yesterday I had read out a line from the Loeb translation of a sentence we were having trouble with and I waited.  Nothing.  That had happened before so I hung up and called him again.  His phone picked up.  I spoke.  Nothing.

Well, then, he called me on my cell phone.  The landline works better for an hour or so of tutoring, so we usually use it.  I answered.  I spoke.  Nothing.  We traded attempts back and forth until Greg sent me an e-mail.  Was my phone on mute?  No, I e-mailed him back.  Weird.

We continued for a while, then we decided to scrap the session and move into January.  He e-mailed me later and said that both his and Ana’s phone had had the same problem.  AT&T.

Anyhow this tickled my funny bone.  Trying to learn how to communicate with a long dead poet in his own language, two of us, speaking  a common language, couldn’t communicate because the technology prevented it.  When we switched to e-mail, on which we could communicate, we could not use it for continuing our communication focused on Ovid.

On My Platter

Winter                                                                      Moon of the Winter Solstice

Today is distribution day for the manuscripts of Missing.  As I said before, I have some anxiety about this, but I know that facing this anxiety and going ahead anyhow is its only solvent.  It’s exciting to me to be 65 and still have cutting edge growth on my platter.  The anxiety is merely a mental clue that this work matters to me.  A lot.

On my platter.  A cliche.  Yes.  But meaningful, as many cliches are.  Overly the last year I’ve though about my platter, just what I want to serve myself every day.  What are the main food groups in my day to day life.  Let’s assume the broad base of the food pyramid consists of family, financial matters, home, food and exercise.  This is the stuff that forms the essential nutrition.  Next up from this base level are dogs, garden, bees, Woolly Mammoths.  Friendly and interdependent relationships with other humans, animals, insects and plants.  This level provides intimate feedback on a regular basis.

Then come increasingly idiosyncratic activities:  reading, watching movies, listening to music, visiting art museums, travel.  Finally come the core activities in which I not only participate but actively create:  this blog, writing novels, translating Latin and putting together tours at the MIA.  Oh, well, the food pyramid breaks down here.  Maybe Maslow’s hierarchy does a better job at this juncture.

These last three writing, Latin and art have become the arenas in which I express the creative, generative aspects of myself, those aspects Maslow calls self-actualization.  Utilizing either the food pyramid or Maslow, engaging this work is only possible if the base, the friendly and interdependent and, too, the more solitary levels are in place and functioning.  Then the work that becomes play, the work that transcends labor can happen.

Latin, art and creative writing.   These are now the core of my work and, I think, will remain so for as long as I’m healthy.