Mid-Holiseason: Advent

Samain                                                                           Moving Moon

Holiseason now looks back a month to October 31st and still forward to January 6th, Epiphany. Over a month of the season lies ahead. Advent, Hanukkah, Posada, Winter Solstice, Christmas Eve and Christmas. That odd week at the end of the year, then New Year’s: 2015.

2015 will bring not only our first full year in Colorado, but my 50th high school reunion. Remember not being able to imagine how old you’d have to be to have a 50th high school reunion? Now I know.

I’ll go by train, as I have in the past, though this time from the Denver Union Station east not from St. Paul’s Union Depot south. The Denver train is the California Zephyr and runs daily between San Francisco and Chicago. On the Empire Builder the service was pretty good, by Amtrak standards (a low bar, I admit), and I don’t know about the Zephyr. Whatever it is, it beats air travel for me.

The Last Presentation

Samain                                                                                     Moving Moon

A piece on social justice I’ve been writing , a presentation for Groveland U-U on December 14th, has been harder than usual. Usually such presentations form over a period of time, I write them, present them and forget them. This has been my pattern for the 22 years of occasional presentations there.

Two key elements have made this one more difficult. It will be my last, probably my last such presentation anywhere and certainly my last to Groveland. And, it was originally to be reflections of my years of social justice work, mostly in the Twin Cities.

When I tried to do a summing up, a sort of lessons learned, failures and successes as examples, it came out wooden. Too focused on me, too summary, not really coherent. Then, I thought, ah. What is it that creates a need in some of us to work for social justice, to attempt to move the levers of power in such a way that they benefit others?

That one felt too psychologized, too small.

What I ended up writing is no valedictory speech. It’s neither summing up nor 360 205370_10150977727553020_150695969_npsychologizing. It is, rather, about choice, about existentialist living.

It finishes with this:

We’ll end with another instance, perhaps a change that will come into your life as it already has in mine. Grandchildren.

I don’t want to say that grandchildren are at the center of my life because they’re not, though they’re pretty damned important. I do want to say that being with our grandchildren, Ruth and Gabe, 8 and 6, gives me a clear focus on the future, that is, the world in which Ruth and Gabe will grow up, in which they will have children and in which they will grow old.

I know, as you probably do, that it will be a much warmer world and one with more erratic weather and changed food production systems. It will be a world in which the current gap between the 99% and the 1% will get wider. Just taking these two instances, as I look at Ruth and Gabe and, at the same time, at that future, those gazes will inform the political choices I make now. Perhaps that’s true for you, too.

 

 

Minnesota

Samain                                                                      Moving Moon

Just read an article by the Trib’s Lee Schafer on the difficulty of recruiting millennials to the Twin Cities. Awareness, he said, was the number one problem. I’m sure he’s right.

Before I came to the Twin Cities, Minnesota, North Dakota and South Dakota, even Wisconsin were place fillers on a map, spots with no distinguishing characteristics. That seems improbable to me now, after 40 + years here, but it was true. I suppose I must have read something about cold weather, but other than that, they were a mystery.

So much that when Judy and I grew tired of Connersville, Indiana (didn’t take long), I was eager to move to her Wisconsin home of Shiocton, Wisconsin. Why? I was under the adolescent spell of Jack London, especially The Call of the Wild and White Fang. Living where there were lakes and pine forests and cold winters appealed to me. It wasn’t exactly like that, not in Wisconsin at least, though you can approach Jack London territory in the Arrowhead, but it was close enough.

The Twin Cities were a different kind of revelation altogether, nothing in Jack London 2010 11 12_0561about them. Here there were progressive politics, lakes inside the city limits!, great parks, lots of libraries, a vibrant arts scene, affordable places to live. The seasons were distinct, too, which I had wanted in my move, not the miserable warm Indiana Januaries with frozen slush and ice storms.

Over time the Twin Cities became home, a place I considered leaving a few times, but when placed in the calculus of benefits and deficits against other cities, Minneapolis and St. Paul always came out in the plus column. Still do, for that matter. With two marked exceptions. They have no grandchildren and Minnesota has no mountains. I know, the Sawtooths, right? Really old volcanoes. The Rockies are young, still jagged and vast.

I am now, and have been for many years, a Minnesotan. Will always be one in my heart, I imagine, though I want to open space for Colorado, too. There’s something about this place, a modesty and a thoughtfulness and a beauty and a sense of communal compassion that will stick with me as a yardstick against which to measure other cities and other states. Those millennials will like it here, if they ever come.

 

Business and Writing

Samain                                                                              Moving Moon

Out to Keys for our weekly business meeting. Kate gets decaf, having been up since 5:15 with the dogs. I get caff, having gotten up at 7:00. We go over the weekly numbers, our financial situation and the calendar. Talk about the move while silverware clinks against ceramics and Pam, our waitress in a sequined red t-shirt with Disney characters and her name outlined in the shiny stuff, fills our cups with a two-fisted maneuver, a pot of decaf and one of regular.

Across from us sat a couple, cute trollish in type, older with white hair, jowls. Her with a scowl and him with Coke bottle thick black glasses. They didn’t talk.

Back home after that where we went over our lists of things to do. Mine included deploying the bagster, a final check of closets, sheds, drawers, cabinets, packing the downstairs bath and remaining art. Kate had on hers checks to the painters and the stager among other things.

Downstairs I wrote a second version of my presentation for Groveland on December 14th. It’s title and theme now comes from a short work by Kierkegaard, Purity of heart is to will one thing. A complete refocus.

Now. A nap.

 

The Jitters

Samain                                                                            Moving Moon

I’m an anxious guy and I have a diagnosis to prove it: Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Folks will admit to melancholy and depression-I’ve done so here-much more often than to anxiety.  In my case the over active anxiety gland I have probably stems most from my reactions to my mother’s sudden and very early death at 46. There have to be genetic predispositions, I imagine, too.

Anxiety causes us to scan the future, looking for problems, pitfalls, even catastrophes. Forewarned is forearmed might be the motto under the anxious person’s crest. It could have this MIA painting for its image.

As anyone ever in its grip can tell you, anxiety is no fun and most of us have experienced anxiety at one point or another. That closing couple of weeks in a quarter or a semester in college drips of it. Interviewing for a job or a grant. Testifying before a committee. Almost any public speaking, which apparently ranks higher than fear of death as a source of anxiety.

Anxiety is not destiny, however. It is possible to manage anxiety, lessen its stomach roiling and crippling effect. I take Zoloft which seems to modulate the extremes, making it less likely that I will descend into a full-blown anxiety attack. And I thank whatever gods maybe for this. It’s made my life much less miserable.

A major goal of living-in-the-move as an idea was to tampen down the holds and let the anxiety leak out in controlled doses. And here’s a revelation. Anxiety is good. In the right proportion. It’s not difficult to imagine that our non-anxious ancestors, those laid-back, flower wreath wearing hunter gatherers of yester millennia didn’t reproduce as much as those whose antenna were always up for the odd predator, the coming cold snap, the need to move on to better berry picking grounds.

Yes, I’m pretty sure anxiety is adaptive, a way of ensuring survival in a dangerous world. It can have benefits today. I’ve used it to scan the upcoming move for potential pitfalls, anticipate them and plan for them. The cliched plan for the worst, hope for the best would be a secondary motto, perhaps for another clan of us anxious folk. By doing this consciously, by talking about it with Kate, I’ve been able to identify matters easily addressed weeks in advance that would be teeth chattering otherwise.

The examples are many. I knew that if I didn’t start packing early I’d never get my books done in time. And I would be a mess of on edgeness. Same with running our budget out six months. Or, finding a new home. For some of you this is just common sense and bless you if you have it. In my world common sense intrudes because I’ve palpated the future and found a worrying mass.

This is not to say that I haven’t had my moments. When I got back from the closing the first of November, I spent time worrying about how the van would park at our new home and whether we would have too much snow and how they would get up the steps to the loft study and, and, and. Kate reminded me that we were paying these guys to solve those problems. Oh. Heh, heh. Yeah.

Anxiety, as I’ve come to understand, is neither friend nor foe, but a coping mechanism, probably passed down genetically and one that has its uses as well its abuses. It can help us plan for eventualities and, if we keep it in check, not overwhelm us.

 

 

The Capital Grille

Samain                                                                          Moving Moon

The Capital Grille. Aptly named. Could have been (maybe really is) the Capitalism Grille. Dark wood, leather, buck heads with santa hats, clocks telling the time in London, Chicago, Tokyo and somewhere else. Faux paintings of dead white guys like Hubert Humphrey, Harold Stassen (for party balance) and, oddly, one of a Hormel guy who invented a meat refrigeration unit. A large bronze eagle swoops down, behind and through its wings the kitchen is just visible. The bison head, so dark against the wood as to be invisible, surprised Kate when she noticed it, then Anne and me when she pointed it out.

The menu presents mostly steak done in various ways. I had a pepper steak, Anne a Gorgonzola and truffle topped filet, Kate scallops. It was, in its way, a fun place to have a Thanksgiving dinner. The food was good and the people watching excellent.

While we ate our rare (cool center), medium rare (warm center) steaks, thick cuts of dry aged beef and seared scallops, we tried to parse out the table across the way, three tables put together. It could have been a Mafia family. Men came forward and kissed the cheek of an older man at the head of the table. One woman, sheathed in black and affluence, older had her husband carrying a brightly colored tote. She reached in and pulled out a center piece with faux gold apples and ivy, flowers. It had small, battery operated flames for the candles. Another woman brought a potted plant. These were set in the center of the table. When their plates came, they had all ordered the turkey dinner.

A curiosity was the youngish blond on the arm of an older man. She had no ring and ran her hand across his back as she sipped red wine from a large balloon glass. What was their relationship? A date? An escort? Made me wonder.

Why were we all here instead of at home with a football game on in the background? (not the Rose Bowl. I know now. That’s New Years. So take back my male creds.) Had others had their families dwindle in number until cooking at home just didn’t make sense? (our case) Perhaps others were tired of turkey? Or, perhaps others didn’t have time for a full meal at home.

Whatever it was, we filled this hall, a celebration of wealth earned the old fashion way, through stock dividends, ate our steaks and our turkey and scallops in sight of each other, but still separated. I wonder what we were thankful for?

 

 

Hmmm.

Samain                                                                             Moving Moon

Here is an interesting conundrum. Should I let my Colorado self emerge out of the casual interactions inherent in moving to a new location: talking to mechanics, visiting the grocery store, dining at the 285 cafe? Or, should I try to shape it, finding like minded folks through obvious clusterings such Sierra Club, the Denver Art Museum, the Democratic party? Sure, it will be a bit of both, I know, but where I should place my emphasis?

As I have been discussing the move, I’ve emphasized the loss of the Woollies, my docent friends, the sheepshead guys and the thick web of history here after 40 plus years. One straight line of thinking is to investigate the sociology of Denver for nodes of persons whom I might meet with similar tastes and interests. That’s why I’ve mentioned politics and the Sierra Club as likely sources for new friends.

And yet. Another part of me, reinforced by some reading in Kierkegaard and an article by a professor on why he has left politics behind (politics or productivity in his mind), have given me pause. Not to mention the onrushing reality of the move. No, I don’t have to make a decision soon, or ever for that matter, but I want to.

Why? Because I don’t want to create a sticky fly trap for my self. I don’t want to make commitments in order to meet people that will result in my needing to pull back later. Right now I’m thinking that politics, though a strong and thrumming wire wound throughout my life, is just such a fly trap. As would be volunteering at one of the museums. Long drives. Winter weather. I dropped both Sierra Club and the MIA for those reasons and, to underscore the professor’s logic, to enable my productivity.

A Colorado, a mountain, a western, a grandpop self will come into being if I live my life, flowing from here to there as events take me. I want the productivity that I find so dependent on having my own time and my own space. Guess that’s my answer for right now.

 

Thanksgiving Morning

Samain                                                                  Moving Moon

A holiday morning. This one with no pans clanking, oven sending out aromas. Not even the Macy’s parade. I never did connect our HD Comcast service. The HD delivers the basic cable channels we pay for to keep down the cost of the broadband. No Rosebowl later in the day either.

Dining this afternoon at the Capital Grille. Our last Thanksgiving here and we’re sharing it with Anne, Kate’s sister. A cold day, appropriate for the final major holiday of our Minnesota lives.

Holiseason hits its full stride with Thanksgiving. After this the holidays keep coming, up to and through Epiphany on January 6th. So many of them focus on getting.  The twin oxen of capitalism and marketing, goaded as they pull the treasure carts of mercantilism, strain to drag us off center in our lives. That’s why Thanksgiving and its focus on gratitude is so important for us right now.

But. Black Friday. Bleeding into Thanksgiving evening. Bah. Humbug. Marley’s ghost drags his chains around in delight.

As the lights go up, the songs come on the radio, I love the focus on illumination. Enlightenment, you might say, is the reason for the season.

And yet. I find myself, to quote Robert Frost, “one acquainted with the night.” This is the season of darkness, the approach to the longest night of the year. The dark is fertile, a place of creativity and the nurturing of life before it emerges into the day. Here in Andover and also on Black Mountain Drive the night brings with it silence, a quiet similar to holiday mornings, like the one around me now. I love the blackness and the light. Blessed be.

Snow Globe Snow

Samain                                                                       Moving Moon

A gentle snow falling, what Kate calls snow globe snow. It comes just in time to cover up the partly melted and sad looking snow cover, freshening it up for the holiday. Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving.

This will be a quiet Thanksgiving for us. Dinner at 4:oo pm at the Capitol Grille with Anne. Then home.

Today will see a bit more packing. That closet under the stairs, gathering up this and that left over from other packing moments. Then, a holiday. The long weekend should tidy up the last of our effort. The Bagster goes out on Sunday, clearing out space in the garage. Two weeks from Monday the A1 folks come to pack the garage and the kitchen plus whatever else we’ve not finished.

Weather Station Clean Up Day

Samain                                                                    Moving Moon

Took my weather station apart today and cleaned it up. There’s another Davis weather station not very far from our new house and it posts on Weatherunderground as Black Mtn/Shadow Mtn. Once I get mine setup I’m going to go back to posting my weather, too. I moved the display panel away from my broadband hookup into a room where I only use wi-fi here and could no longer post.

The study is done for now. So is the garden study. It was the one with all the files. Tomorrow I’m going to head into the closet under the stairs and the built-in cabinets down here in the basement. That will represent the last of the packing until December 15th or so, moving week. Then, all the computer stuff, all the monitors, this tower, keyboards, mice, cables, power surge strips. Into boxes. Another box for desk supplies, Latin books, remaining stuff.

Next week I plan to go through all of the manuals we have and organize them. I’m also going to work on information about the house itself (where the gfi’s are, filters, that sort of thing) and put together a handbook for the various gardens and the orchard. The new folks will do whatever they want of course, that’s how transfer of property rights work, but I want them to know how and why we did what we did.

There will be a bit in there, too, about cohabitation with the pileated woodpeckers, great horned owl, the moles and the voles and the mice. Those land beavers and whistle pigs. The occasional snapping turtle, small green frogs, salamanders, newts and garter snakes. The odd opossum and raccoon, of course, as well. Chipmunks, squirrels, turkeys and deer. Crows and nuthatches. Chickadees. Hummingbirds. The whole blooming buzzing menagerie.