We need calm, accurate, factual history to survive this moment. That history, American history, relies on the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, 250 years of democracy.
Most of us, by a margin so large that we should not despair, ⅔ of we, the people support that long ingrained democracy. Yes, there are more Americans who stand on the pro-democracy side.
Our national pro-democracy historian is the calm, sane voice of Heather Cox Richardson.
Heather Cox Richardson is a national treasure: share her words and efforts as widely as you can.
Those are just two samples of the exemplary HCR offering her wisdom. Spread it. Far and wide.
There are many ways to tell a story. I knew that but hearing Ann Pachett debunk my “they write themselves” theory and talk about writing as work¹ was confirming.
Like the book Patchett is reading to me, the story I intend to tell is about “a happy marriage.” These stories are fraught; the telling is fraught.
I layout what I have to say conversationally. I am talking to myself. Will the story flow as smoothly and easily when I finally get it out on paper? [Or, more precisely, on electronic page?]
As the cliché goes, and saying that makes it no less clichéd, stay tuned. Aka, I’m working on it.
Note to self, and you, dear reader, I never tried to support myself on my writing. I am an amateur. Amateur auteur has a ring, yes?
¹This Is A Story Of A Happy Marriage, written by Ann Patchett, read by the author. HarperAudio
My joke du jour is that pretty soon I will no longer know how to read. I have made books part of my everyday, but I enjoy them in audio form.
Books were absent from my life for many years. While Burt was well, we were busy together and I couldn’t immerse myself in a book. When he got sick, I couldn’t find the concentration.
Since Burt passed, I have raced through a small library of books. I enjoy them in clumps: a bunch of Sue Grafton’s [re-reads]; some Ronald H. Balsan novels; several Fiona Davis stories; a burgeoning collection of Lisa Jewell works; a smattering of Frieda McFadden’s grim p.o.v.; all lightened by Janet Evanovich. There are other titles I have devoured, like Yellowface, James, or The Street; I read a few Isabel Allende works, as well as Like Mother, Like Mother; the intriguing The Lady in Gold; I finished The Four Winds and Educated; I recommend the odd Elinor Olliphant is Fine and American Dirt, too.
In fact, I recommend the whole enterprise that involves hearing a lovely voice read Jane Austen, or Taylor Jenkins Reid, or Mark Twain aloud to you. It gives to the activity of reading an entirely new dimension. I find it very pleasant, this story hour in which I indulge.
Limelight was padded but there was a Limelight Pizza that was open.
Back in the day, this Church was a nightclub. I went there once. It was loud and dancy.
Sunday was the day AFAM closed for “big changes.” I love the Folk Art Museum even if I only visit sporadically. On Saturday, I made a far- thee-well but also wanted to see what was on offer before the renovations shut me out.
The tapestries of Madelena Santos Reinbolt are spectacular. She also painted in a similarly intense and dense style.
My friend CS joined and enjoyed this remarkable exhibit.
The work of Madelena Santos Reinbolt is intricate, colorful and detailed.
Her work is sophisticated and intelligent.
Santos Reinbolt was a Brazilian artist who made her living as a cook.
The AFAM shop, which is a great source for the unusual, will be open for pick-ups.
It sounded like a CIA operation. It was not what I intended.
My operation was a simple and straightforward return. Amazon has certainly spoiled us for that; no bag, no box, no return label.
This shipping and shopping behemoth spoiled us with quick heck even same day delivery. There was a portent in this order; it took weeks to arrive.
My complaint wasn’t the delay; even the vagueness of who the merchant might be didn’t rile me. Yes, portents and mystery came with this transaction.
I was promised an infomercial’s worth of ‘great for wearing in the snow’ and ‘so comfortable for older women’ that the stiffness of this boot irked. Of course, the boot looks great from its forest green exterior and nice design to the neat angle of its raised heel. It doesn’t feel great.
So, long story short [I hear you saying ‘that ship has sailed’] I called customer service. “We’ll call you in 26 hours; if you don’t answer, we’ll send an email with the address for the return.”
I asked about the logistics of my return.
“You’ll get an email telling you all about that.” Click.
The address for the return is somewhere in Guangdong Province China. I am not kidding.
Shipping charges would fall to me. Unheard of in the annals of easy returns!
Included in this email was this wisdom: “We advise you to stay with the product and we can give you a $ 18 dollar refund otherwise continue to send the product back to us.”
Always accept good advice when it’s generously offered. At least I shall.
Huddling with podcasts has become a source of comfort for me. I spend a part of my respite time under earphones and tuned to one of these specific three.
At the moment, that rotation is led by Julia Louis Dreyfus. I am caught up on Wiser than Me, which gladdens me (I have been enriched), and I can’t wait for Wednesday.
Anderson Cooper offers wisdom on grieving; perversely, I find tremendous uplift in listening to All There Is with…. I am far from done with the seasons of this series.
Somehow, Brooke Shields snuck on to my listening cycle. On Now What? she interviews people who have dealt with moments of transition. (Who hasn’t?) These shared pivotal moments are enlightening.
I found myself listening to one of the most distinctive voices the other day. [Bebe Neuwirth has a special timbre when she speaks.]
I appreciate her work as a dancer and actress, but I love her for a moment at a Broadway Cares event some 4 years ago.
The audience was instructed “cell phones off.” A routine command in the theater. Within minutes, a phone went off.
Ms. Neuwirth rose to the occasion in righteous outrage admonishing the offender.
I hate hearing ringing during a performance, don’t you?
All The Best 