New Year's Day

A new start, or just another day? A day for looking back, for looking forward, or just looking around. A day for letting go of bad thoughts; forgetting bad deeds, both those committed against us and those committed by us; looking forward to what lies ahead. Looking forward to doing good and living well.

Time to make resolutions which will probably be very similar to last year's, and which I will break today or tomorrow or next week , if I'm very determined. Lose weight, exercise, write more, be kinder, spend more time with family and friends and less time thinking only of myself. These good intentions always seem to hover around the edges of my  consciousness, but one way or another, are usually ignored. There seems to be a curtain drawn between my good intentions and my real life. Is this an iron curtain or a cotton one? Will I be able to get through it? Only time will tell.

After thinking long and hard, I have decided to make two resolutions only:
          1. Live well
          2. Live good

Per Olov Enquist: “One day we shall die. But all the other days we shall be alive.”

Are There Consequences?

Why doesn't Lake Erie just cave in? What's holding it up? Does anyone know how much salt has been mined from beneath the lake? And now someone is taking the natural gas from beneath the ground. With what are those spaces filling up? Are we going to have one big sinkhole someday? Or maybe a lot of smaller ones? It's not just here, either, it's all over the world. Pretty soon we may be walking around on a thin crust, hoping things won't cave in.

These are a few of the questions that show up in my head on nights when I can't sleep. People who know these things just laugh and tell me not to worry; nothing bad is going to happen. How do they know?

All this worrying is giving me a headache; I need to take a nap.

Huh?

The English language must be outgrowing me. I have trouble keeping up with the current usage of certain words and phrases. For example, hardly a day goes by that someone on some TV show asks someone else, "Mind if I join you?" I always think the correct answer should be "No, I don't mind," or just "No," if you would welcome the other person. But lately, the answer, at least on TV, has been, "Yes." The person asking then sits down next to the first person. To me, the answer "Yes," means, "Yes, I mind; please go away."

More and more, when a character in a book means yes, the author writes, "She shook her head yes." Don't you nod your head when you mean yes, and shake your head when the answer is no? When did this change?

And what about the phrase, "I could care less," when the person saying it clearly means, "I could not care less." This can be a bit confusing.

Then there's the double preposition - "From which he fully expected to wake from." What's with that?

I hate to admit to losing concentration when I'm reading, but, no matter how hard I try, when I come across one of these words or phrases, I get distracted thinking about whether it is proper English, and what the author really means. I can almost lose track of the story. Am I the only one this happens to?

To Dream or Not to Dream

A recent commentary on NPR pointed out that, today, there is little chance for anyone to be bored.  Our time is constantly filled with electronic games, texts, even movies and TV shows which can be downloaded onto devices small enough to carry in our hand or pocket.   Back before cell phones, iPads, or computers, there were times when people actually had nothing to do. Now, if you're standing in line waiting for a table, waiting for the store to open, or even on hold on the phone, there is always a distraction waiting to be accessed. We no longer have to be bored.

The commentator's point was that we are missing out on the times when our imaginations were allowed to soar, or when we could  dream of what might be, or even develop a plan for the future. According to her, this is where our minds went when we were bored. Now, there is a lack of daydreaming, perhaps of creativity. She believes we need these times of boredom to dream, and dream big.

If that is the case, then I have always wasted my time.  Since about the age of 6, I have never gone anywhere without a book. If I had to wait for an appointment, my book was there. If someone ran an errand and left me in the car, I had a book to read. Even when I was put on hold, or during TV commercials, I  had a book in front of me. Now I have to wonder just how imaginative I could have been if I had put the book down and filled the empty time with daydreaming. Would I already have had that novel published?

Do I still have time to learn this art of daydreaming?

Journaling

Journaling - defined as "a form of psychotherapy." I wasn't even sure it was a real word when I started doing it, but there it is. I do keep a journal, maybe better described as morning pages. I don't write in it every day, but I figure if I managed my time better (my one and only New Year's resolution), that journaling time would increase. The difficulty is, my great-grandson also likes to write in my journal. Since he just turned 5 and is only now learning his letters, this can sometimes be a problem. He didn't seem to notice that he was writing his thoughts down on top of mine, effectively making it impossible for me to go back and see what magical ideas I had had.

There is no way I can yell at him, or tell him he cannot write in my journal; really, I'm glad he wants to do this. So I decided I would put my current binder where he would be unlikely to find it, but where it would be easy for me to get at. I'm sure you can guess what happened - I forgot where I put it! Days went by and I looked in all the desk drawers, on all the book shelves, everywhere and anywhere I thought it would have been logical to put this binder. Not there, or there or there! Yesterday, I finally found it! Right where I put it, on top of a bookcase, under a beautiful wooden bowl made and given to me by a friend. It is now back in plain sight, on top of the table in the pool room,

And yes, my great-grandson is again writing in my journal, But he has assured me that he is only writing on the pages I haven't used yet! I think that is very thoughtful of him, don't you?

Good People

If you get a chance to read the book, In the Garden of Beasts : love, terror, and an American family in Hitler's Berlin, by Eric Larson, I hope you take the opportunity. It is the true story of the American Ambassador to Germany and his family in 1933 and 1934.  Very easy to read, this book is a true eye opener. 

How did this happen? you will ask many times as you read through. Why wasn't something done to stop this? I don't know the answers to these questions, but, for me, the story raised a lot of other questions. Are we living in a comparable time, where evil is breeding in different parts of the world? Do we have an obligation to combat this evil, to try and stop it?

I have always believed that we should never have sent troops to Viet Nam, Afghanistan, or anywhere in the Middle East. This is not a reflection on the men and women who were sent to fight; they are truly the heroes in all of this, doing their best to protect our country. I think the boys and girls in Washington are to blame for most of the wars we have been involved in. But it doesn't seem to matter who is in power in Washington, the wars drag on.

This book has given me serious pause. There were several times I said to myself that the rise of Hitler should never have happened. What happened to the good people of the world? Is our situation today analogous? What should we do about it? Should we bring all the troops home? My answer to this question for the last several years has been Yes. But now I wonder, if good people do nothing, who will? If good people do nothing, are they good people?

It reminds me of the poem attributed to Martin Niemõller:
              

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Maybe you shouldn't read this book. It could raise serious questions for you, too.

Mom's Banjo

Mom's banjo has been around as long as I can remember. When she moved into her condo, the banjo came home with me. Since then, it has floated between the living room wall, the attic, and the office, which used to be my son's bedroom.

All I know about the banjo is that it is a B&D Symphonie Silver Bell, and it is heavy. The B&D stands for Bacon & Day; and Symphonie is spelled that way right on the banjo. My grandfather was somehow able to get this beautiful banjo for mom in the 1930s, in the heart of the Great Depression. That she managed to hang onto it for all those years seems unlikely, but she did. Now it is mine.

Last Christmas, Adam and Beth gave me the gift of banjo lessons. I had been making noises for several years that mom's banjo needed to be played, so they thought I should learn. I took my first lesson about six weeks ago, and have now been through three hours of frustration, laughter, anxiety, and pain. Usually the frustration wins out. How long will I keep up with the lessons? I haven't the foggiest. I was ready to quit after the second lesson, but then I remembered why I wanted to take the lessons in the first place. This banjo needs to be played; and I need something that takes me out of my comfort zone.

I now know two chords, the C chord and the G7 chord. Actually, I know three because I peeked ahead in the lesson book at the F chord, but don't tell Andre.) I have not yet figured out where my fingers go on the frets or strings (the banjo is a four string tenor banjo), or how to slide them up and down the strings, or what frets equal what notes.
Until my next lesson, in two weeks, I will be practicing the chromatic scale on all the strings. So if you happen to be in my neighborhood and hear what could be an animal in distress, please don't get too upset. I will just be me, practicing.

Wish me luck.