Author: nagneberg48

What Are You Doing These Days? And Other Difficult Questions

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August 29, 2023

“What are you doing these days?”

“How’s your summer been?”

“Doing anything exciting? Traveling anywhere?”

At recent gatherings my husband and I have been asked these or similar questions. Twice I answered,
“We’re just boring old people.” That may be true, but we are not without interests and activities, and it is rare that I feel bored.

Why then is it so hard to answer the question? It is easier for me to share Bruce’s gardening at home and at church and his painting and then selling discarded furniture with proceeds going to Lutheran Social Services programs for homeless youth. And it is easier to share the activities of our grands–Maren’s semester in Greece this fall after working at Northern Lights Family Camp all summer and Peter’s recent hiking trip in the Rockies and now starting his sophomore year of high school and playing football.

Why is it so hard for me to share what I am doing? After all, I love what I am privileged to do.

Most of my days feel rich and full, so why am I uncomfortable sharing the ways I experience this time of my life?

I don’t have an easy answer, but I wonder if at least part of the answer is that what I do, I do most days. I read. I pray. I hometend. I pay bills. I go to Target. I watch yet another series on BritBox. I answer emails and go for walks. I spend time with friends and family and roam backroads with my husband. I go to church.

The stuff of life. The normal stuff of life. The movement from day to day.

I also meet with my spiritual direction clients and plan sessions for the weekly contemplative writing group at church and organize occasional events for Third Chapter, Spirituality As We Age, also at church. I write two posts every week for this blog and am always working on an essay to submit to various publications.

These activities are also the stuff of my life. The normal stuff of my life. The movement from day to day.

In that ongoing movement I try to pay attention and notice the movement of God.

That’s what I do with my days.

Perhaps I need to practice answering the question. I need to have an answer I can pull out of my back pocket–an answer that is simple and accurate, but in some way expresses the constellation of my life.

“Thanks for asking. Life is rich and full. How privileged I feel being able to do what matters to me. Yesterday, for example, I ….”

I love the familiar Annie Dillard quote, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.”

Exciting days? Not so much. Big travel plans. Not really, except for our weekend rambles and our road trip to see our Cleveland kids in the fall. No, we are not going to Greece to visit Maren. This is her time, her adventure, and we will rejoice in what she shares.

Instead, we are living fully and deeply and joyfully in the stuff of each day.

An Invitation

How do you answer the “what are you doing?” questions? I would love to know.

Note:

One of the women in my personal writing group has just had an important article about the perils of wetlands published. I encourage you to read it. https://minnesotareformer.com/2023/08/25/u-s-supreme-court-has-put-precious-wetlands-in-peril/

Book Report: Tom Lake by Ann Patchett

/ nagneberg48 / 21 Comments

August 24, 2023

Sunday afternoon, a cool and pleasant day before the cover of heat returned once again, I sat outside and finished reading Tom Lake by Ann Patchett. I wanted to finish it, but that doesn’t mean I wanted it to end. The NYT review by Alexandra Jacobs felt understated and even at times a bit snarky calling Patchett, “Aunt Patchett,” “as always slyly needlepointing her own pillowcase mottos,” but I LOVED THIS BOOK.

I waited to read Tom Lake until I had conquered a couple major deadlines. In fact, I didn’t dare have it in the house until the retreat I facilitated was completed, and the article I had been asked to write was sent off to the editor. My weekend was spacious, and the time belonged to Patchett.

Have I said how much I LOVED THIS BOOK?

Tom Lake, by the way, is not a person, but the name of a lake in Michigan.

The story has two narratives. One narrative begins when the main character, high school student Lara, is cast as Emily in Thornton Wilder’s Our Town and then follows her acting career, which includes a movie in Hollywood. More importantly, Lara plays Emily again in a summer stock production of Our Town. During that summer she has an affair with another actor, Peter Duke.

The other narrative is set during the pandemic. Lara is married with three grown daughters, Emily, Maisie, and Nell, who return to their parents’ cherry farm in Michigan, and as they pick cherries, the women ask Lara to share the stories of her earlier life. She has much to tell, but chooses not to tell everything.

Sometimes following two time periods is confusing, but anyone who has read Patchett knows how expert she is at bringing the reader along with her, wherever she decides to go.

In an interview on PBS News Hour (Thursday, August 17) Patchett said the idea for the book grew from the play, Our Town, not with a character, and in the opening pages she refers to the feelings people in New Hampshire, which is where Our Town is set, have about the play.

We felt about the play the way other Americans felt about the Constitution or the “Star-Spangled Banner.”

p. 1

Rumor had it certain women wanted to play Emily forever. They criss-crossed New Hampshire town to town, year after year, trying to land the part.

p. 11

Many have said that Our Town is America’s most important play ever written, and it is always being performed somewhere. This spring our granddaughter Maren was in a senior thesis abbreviated production of the play at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, OR.

And this summer Bruce and I saw a production at the American Players Theater, Spring Green, WI.

Is there something about Our Town that we need right now? Wait a minute, am I reviewing Our Town or Tom Lake? Perhaps the two will always be linked in my heart and mind from now on.

Back to the book. Each character is so clear, so well-defined, but with their own obscurities. Each one of the daughters could become a book on their own, and yet they belong together–something the pandemic gave them another chance to experience.

They stack their dishes in the sink and head out the door together, Maisie holding the end of Emily’s braid the way one elephant will use its trunk to hold another elephant’s tail. Nell slips her finger through Maisie’s belt loop. Joe and I used to say that if lightning struck one of these girls all three would go up in flames.”

p. 91

This book would have been good, very good, without the context of the pandemic. No doubt Patchett would have found a way for her daughters to return to the farm for a chunk of time and no doubt there would have been reasons for such ongoing storytelling, but the pandemic becomes the open hands of the story.

I stay behind to make the lunch, which I should have been working on while I was talking all this time. The past need not be so all-encompassing that it renders us incapable of making egg salad. The past, were I to type it up, would look like a disaster, but regardless of how it ended we all had many good days. In that sense the past is much like the present because the present–this unparalleled disaster–is the happiest time of my life: Joe and I here on this farm, our three girls grown and gone and then returned, all of us working together to take the cherries off the trees. Ask that girl who left Tom Lake what she wanted out of life and she would never in a million years have said the Nelson farm in Traverse City, Michigan, but as it turned out, it was all she wanted.

p. 253.

The story continues to unfold to the last page, but it doesn’t feel like a great reveal–only the way life happens. Day by day. Year by year.

There is no explaining this simple truth about life: you will forget much of it. The painful things you were certain you’d never be able to let go. Now you’re not entirely sure when they happened, while the thrilling parts, the heart-stopping joys, splintered and scattered and became something else. Memories are then replaced by different joys and larger sorrows, and unbelievable, those things get knocked aside as well, until one morning you’re picking cherries with your three grown daughters and your husband goes by on the Gator and you are positive that this is all you’ve ever wanted in the world.

p. 116

One more thing: I made a crucial decision as I started reading the book. I decided not to underline sentences and paragraphs I loved, for I knew immediately, there would be so many. Instead I marked passages with a subtle light blue x in the margin, keeping the book a bit more pristine and fresh, like the daisies on the cover. (I didn’t understand the cover design choice, by the way until almost the end. Why weren’t there cherry trees on the cover I wondered. Trust me, there is a reason.)

May these days, as we move from late summer into fall, find you engrossed in just the right book.

An Invitation

Are you an Ann Patchett reader? What’s your favorite?

NOTE:

I enjoyed reading this interview with Patchett. https://www.shondaland.com/inspire/books/a44654107/tom-lake-is-a-meditation-on-a-love-that-could-never-be-family-and-the-quiet-beauty-of-our-town/

Looking Back and Looking Ahead

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August 22, 2023

If my parents were still alive they would have celebrated their 80th wedding anniversary this past June and their 100th birthdays this month. They were born days apart in 1923, but died years apart — my mother in 2003 and my father more recently in 2020.

When my mother died of colon cancer after three years of remission, my father’s pain was tangible, but also his amazement. His wife dying first was not the plan. Men were supposed to die first, and much of their financial planning was with that thought in mind. He wanted to make sure Mom would be well-taken care of financially. Never did he think about what being a widower might mean for him.

Although he was lonely and missed her deeply, he did well. He continued his work as a consultant for several years and remained in their home until some health problems led to his decision to move into an independent living facility, where he lived for about ten years.

I suspect if Dad had died first Mom would have moved out of the house earlier and would have developed a social life with her new neighbors. Her needs for help from her family would have been different from my Dad’s, but I think she, too, would have done well in her years as a widow.

What’s important to remember is that there wasn’t a choice about who was going to die first.

What is true, however, is one of them would die before the other.

How obvious that seems, but I wonder how often we operate under mistaken assumptions. Like my father’s assumption that he would die before my mother.

In my August 1 post I mentioned that my husband and I recently had a conversation about future plans. Would I stay in the house if he died first? “No,” I said, but he said he would stay in the house, if I died first. Our conversation, brief as it was, focused on our individual needs and decisions. What strikes me now, however, is that unless we die in a car accident or some other catastrophic way, ONE OF US WILL DIE FIRST. And one of us will continue to live for an unknown period of time.

There are obviously all sorts of implications with that awareness, including financial ones but also thoughts about who I am as an individual. What am I doing now to maintain my own personhood, to continue to develop my own interests, to grow, and to connect to others in meaningful ways? What would be my challenges as a person newly uncoupled? My challenges might be different than my husband’s. Are there ways we can help each other now prepare for a life on our own after so many years of being a pair?

Obviously, we have no idea when either of us will die, and neither of us dwells on that question. Instead, we attempt to live fully and gratefully for these years that feel like such a bonus. At the same time we live aware of more days behind us than ahead of us, and it is good to continue the conversations.

In the meantime my sibs and our spouses will gather in the next few days to lift a glass or two to the memory of our parents and the years they were privileged to live.

An Invitation

What assumptions do you have as you live in your elder years? I would love to know.

Women Who Dared to Write

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August 17, 2023

I was an English major in college, graduated in 1970. For the most part the classes offered were well-taught and prepared me to for my life as a reader and as a high school English teacher. However, there was a major hole in the curriculum. No female writers.

Oh, maybe we read a few poems by Emily Dickinson or Elizabeth Barrett Browning, but in the American Novel class, during which we read and wrote a paper about a different book every week. We read Henry James and Nathaniel Hawthorne and even Philip Roth’s Goodbye Columbus, but no Willa Cather or Edith Wharton. In none of my classes was I introduced to George Eliot or Virginia Woolf. I do remember reading Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility in high school, but if I recall, it was not assigned. I chose to read it for an independent study.

After that steady diet of male authors, I decided during my years of young motherhood to read books mainly by women. I wish I still had my book lists from those years, but they are long gone. I do remember feeling I had been deprived of women’s voices for far too long, and I gobbled up book after book, broadening my own perspective and education.

As I started reading A Life of One’s Own, Nine Women Writers Begin Again by Joanna Biggs, I felt myself drawn into the world of women writers again; women who paved the way for women writers today.

Each chapter of A Life of One’s Own, which is a play on Virginia Woolf’s treatise, A Room of One’s Own, focuses on an important female writer: Mary Wollstonecraft, George Eliot, Zora Neale Hurston, Virginia Woolf, Simone de Beauvoir, Sylvia Plath, Toni Morrison, and Elena Ferrante. Joanna Biggs, newly divorced, turns to these writers, these women, and their books, for clues about how to live fully a life of freedom and intellectual fulfillment as a woman. The resulting book is a combination of memoir, literary criticism, and biography.

True confessions: I have not read Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Women nor have I read deBeauvoir’s The Second Sex nor do I intend to do so at this stage of my life. I do feel more of a gap, knowing I have not read Eliot’s Middlemarch, and perhaps the next time I am allowed to take only one book with me for a week of confinement in a remote cabin, this will be the book. I do want to read it, but that means not reading a pile of other books. Another confession: I have only read the first book, My Brilliant Friend, in Elena Ferrante’s quartet, and it just didn’t grab me. Women friends who know me have expressed surprise that I didn’t love it, so what did I miss? This past weekend my husband and I stopped in a sweet little used bookstore when we were roaming, and I practically tripped over My Brilliant Friend. I took it as a sign, bought it, and added it to my TBR pile for another go. I will let you know.

I have read books by the other authors: The Bell Jar by Plath and some of her poetry; Their Eyes Were Watching God by Hurston, which I re-read in 2021; several books, The Bluest Eye, Sula, and Beloved by Morrison; and a number of Virginia Woolf books. In fact, I just read Monday or Tuesday, a slim volume of short stories or are they essays? The genre is not always clear and doesn’t need to be. My favorite in this book is “A Society,” about a group of women who created a “society for asking questions.”

One of us was to visit a man-of-war, another was to hide herself in a scholar’s study, another was to attend a meeting of business men; while all were to read books, look at pictures, go to concerts, keep our eyes open in the street, and ask questions perpetually. We were very young. You can judge of our simplicity when I tell you that before parting that night we agreed that the objects of life were to produce good people and good books. Our questions were to be directed to finding out how far these objects were now attained by men. We vowed solemnly that we would not bear a single child until we were satisfied.

p. 39-40

Decades ago I worked in an independent bookstore and I remember when three volumes of Woolf’s arrived —Mrs. Dalloway, A Room of One’s Own, and To The Lighthouse. By then I had read each of these books, but I had to own these lavender hardcover editions, each in their own slipcase. They never made it to the store’s bookshelves and remain treasures today in my personal library.

I was particularly taken by the chapter on Toni Morrison. Biggs says Morrison started writing “because she wanted something to read. What she wanted to read didn’t exist yet, so she wrote it.” I wonder if that isn’t true for each of the women writers profiled in Biggs’ book.

I also love this Morrison quote.

A grown-up–which I think is a good thing to be–is a person who does what she has to do without complaining, without pretending that it’s some enormous, heroic enterprise.”

p. 213

All in all, this was a pleasant read, a reminder of the gifts and legacy of women writers. I wish Biggs had written a final chapter focusing more on what she learned and discovered about herself as a woman, as a woman who writes. In addition, the subtitle of the book, Nine Women Writers Begin Again, doesn’t seem accurate. These women found ways to write, no matter what. They continued to write, rather than stopping and then beginning once again. And I am always intrigued by cover art. While this is a lovely painting called 2nd Street View by Lois Dodd, it didn’t feel evocative of the book’s theme and topics. I know–picky, picky, picky!

An Invitation

Are there any female writers who wrote in the past who you are just now discovering? I would love to know.

Late Summer Thoughts

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August 15, 2023

Have you noticed that gardens are looking frowsy –overgrown and perhaps even a bit weary of their own lushness? Many trees in our part of the world look tired. The greens are no longer fresh and new. The fading has begun. Some trees seem eager even to shed their greenness and lighten their load.

Even the rose bush on the path can no longer hold up its head. I’ve had enough perkiness for one season, it seems to say.

Well, it is late summer, after all.

As a child at this point in the summer I remember feeling, “Oh good, the summer is almost over and soon school will begin.” I was always eager for the first day of school. And the second and third and…

Now, while I love fall much more than summer and spring and perhaps not quite as much as I love winter, I am learning in my 70’s to not wish this time away. No matter the season. For who knows what next summer will bring or if I will have a next summer. What losses and changes will the months leading to next summer bring?

I’m learning, slowly and not always so steadily, to be here now. Now.

Now in spite of the heat and the mosquitos, the increased laundry and ironing, the dust on the tables when the windows are open, the bulging traffic heading to the lake on Friday afternoons, the empty pews on Sunday mornings as people vacation, the complaints about rainy weekends, and even the expectations we better have fun or make good use of this time because “soon it will be winter.” (Good, I think, but only smile and nod.)

I am aware, however, that my reasons for fall and winter yearning have become less. After all once warm weather ends I will no longer be able to sit in the Paris garden. Going places, even the grocery store, will take more thought and effort. How many layers do I need to wear? Is it going to snow today? Maybe I should wait till tomorrow. During those months, there is always the concern that a snowstorm may derail plans.

And recently, I heard reports on NPR about the upcoming flu season and what shots and COVID vaccinations will be recommended.

No, none of the strong preferences or affiliations with a season make any real sense.

Just be here now.

Whether sweating or shivering.

Whether hanging out or hunkering in.

Whether adding ice to a tall drink or chopping ice off the sidewalks.

Joy Harjo in her book about why she writes, Catching the Light, says to “Start anywhere to catch the light.”

No matter the season, I say, may I catch the light of a long summer’s evening or the passing of a firefly or even the glimmer of a new idea or clarifying thought.

May I catch the light as it glistens and glides over wildflowers on the side of the road or flowers picked from our backyard garden and now arranged in a small white pitcher on my desk or the light that wraps and warms families playing, resting or reuniting.

Mainly what I’m paying attention to these days, as I attempt to Be Here Now, is the light within. That happens more and more as I lighten the load of regrets and desires unmet and the “shoulds” expressed in the expectations of others or, let’s face it, my expectations of myself.

I’m paying attention to the light that comes from the spaciousness of God’s love and of Jesus’s way, encouraging each of us to lighten up and to enlighten one another with love.

That’s the kind of light that knows no season, knows no time.

An Invitation

What thoughts are you having during these late summer days? I would love to know.

                           

Reading and Aging. Aging and Reading

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August 10, 2023

“How can you read so many books?” I’m often asked.

A few months ago a friend wondered if I read as many as 50 books a year, and I felt a bit sheepish when I said, “Actually, this past year I read 150.”

How is that possible? Well, again, sheepishly I admit I often read, instead of doing something else I should make more time for in my life, like walking and other exercise. I suppose I could listen to audio books then, however, and my book totals would not change that much.

I am a fast reader and sometimes I exhort myself to slow down. I know I sometimes miss something I would appreciate more if I took my time, but oh well.

I think one reason I am able to read so many books is that I only read what I want to read. I quickly discard a book and move on, if it doesn’t grab me right away. I’m not willing to suffer through a book that doesn’t appeal to me when I could be reading a book that absorbs me. Perhaps that is why I am no longer interested in being in a book group–I want to read what I want to read. Yes, I know by making a quick “yes/no” decision I miss out on reading something that would have become memorable, but oh well…

Reading is a pleasurable habit. It is an integral part of my life–not just an add on when there is nothing else to do. While I have always loved to read and considered it one of life’s great pleasures, I have not always been able to read to the degree I can now.

Reading More as I Age

Last Saturday I had a busy hometending day: making a grocery list and then grocery shopping, making a batch of pesto with basil from our garden, doing some laundry, and cleaning the first floor of the house.

In the past I would have moved determinedly from one task to another and not thought much about it. Just a normal hometending day, but now what I need to do is to pace myself. I need to pause between tasks and take a break.

For example, when I had put away the groceries and harvested the basil, I grabbed my book and read for 20 minutes before getting out the food processor and the pesto ingredients. Then after making the pesto and putting away what I used, doing a quick washing of the counters, I moved back into the snug for more reading time.

That back and forth continued until the kitchen and bathroom were scrubbed clean and I had put away the vacuum cleaner and other cleaning supplies. The house looked fresh, AND I had read a big chunk of the mystery I was currently reading.

In my younger version of myself, I would have done all the required tasks, bing, bing, bing, still leaving enough energy to write a blog post or some letters or work on an essay or take a walk or whatever. Not anymore.

I am trying to pay attention to my energy levels and to match those to what I feel I must or need to do. And while I still manage to accomplish a great deal, I need to spread tasks over more time. I need to pace myself and build in more rest and recovery time.

And the winner of this new state of being is more time for reading!!!!! Yahoo!

An Invitation

Are you reading more or less as you age? I would love to know.

Special Request:

I am writing an article for BookWomen about keeping a book journal and TBR (To Be Read) lists. I would love to hear from you about the ways you keep track of what you read or want to read. OR if you don’t record your reading life, why not? Do you use Good Reads or another online method? Do you have a physical book dedicated to book lists? What else do you keep track of in your reading life? Number of pages read? A summary of each book read? Do you give books stars to evaluate what you’ve read? I would love to learn it all.

Send me an email at nagneberg48@gmail.com and do it soon, please. I have an August 20th deadline, so I am working on this now.

Thanks to all of you who have responded already. I plan to reply to you individually, by the way, but in the meantime I am grateful to you.

Feeling Hopeful

/ nagneberg48 / 6 Comments

August 8, 2023

On our way to pick-up grandson Peter from Camp Widjiwagan in Ely, MN, our daughter Kate suggested stopping at the Paul Wellstone Memorial. Wellstone was Minnesota’s senator from 1991-2002. Just days before the election the plane he was in, along with his wife and daughter, campaign workers and pilots, crashed near Eveleth, MN. Wellstone was a beloved senator known for his progressive politics and his belief that individuals can and must make a difference. In fact, it is not unusual to still see cars with Paul Wellstone bumper stickers. He was and remains a hero to many.

We need a new kind of citizenship so that people earn the rank of the patriot because of involvement in their community affairs. We as a society need to encourage people to focus not just on individual wants, but on serving the the larger community.

Paul Wellstone

Standing before each of the ancient boulders commemorating the lives of each who died in that crash, I couldn’t help but wonder what Wellstone would say today about the precariousness of our democracy. I have no doubt, whether he would still be Minnesota’s senator or not, that he would remain devoted to public service and would be inspiring others to improve the lives of all those in need and experiencing injustice.

I admit, however, it is hard to be hopeful these days and far too easy to fall into fear and discouragement. As I walked this memorial trail, I felt sad and sober as I thought about these inspirational lives of action that had ended far too soon and worried about the morass we seem to find ourselves in today. Is it possible to build on Paul Wellstone’s optimism and energy? And his legacy.

At the beginning of the trail a poem by LeAnn Littlewolf is carved on a large boulder, along with the image of an eagle. Apparently, eagles were seen soaring over the crash site as rescuers arrived.

I took the message of the eagles so beautifully expressed in the poem with me as we continued on our way to Widji.

Peter had been on a ten day hiking trip in the Rockies, along with four other campers and a counselor. During that time there had been no communication home, and we were all eager to hear about their adventures and to know that the time away from screens and conveniences had been positive. We were full of questions, but first, we just needed to give that big guy a squeeze. The reunion was sweet, indeed.

Peter had an incredible time and is even talking about going on a longer trip next year.

SONY DSC
SONY DSC

Many other groups had returned from their adventures that same day and during the closing campfire, we were treated to stories and memories and accomplishments. Much had been learned. Much had been gained–confidence, compassion and respect for others, care and love for all of creation. The bonds that had been formed were tangible, and I felt the eagle spirit within me and around me soar.

We must not be complacent. Nor can we elders simply turn the mess we are in over to our young people, but it is in this kind of preparation and intention that our hope becomes alive.

On the way home, as Peter talked nonstop, describing each meal, each peak they climbed and the beauties of what they saw, along with the personalities of each of his new brothers, I thought about Paul Wellstone’s earnest encouragement.

We all do better when we all do better.

There is good reason to hope.

An Invitation

Where have you experienced a reason to hope. I would love to know.

Special Request:

I am writing an article for BookWomen about keeping a book journal and TBR (To Be Read) lists. I would love to hear from you about the ways you keep track of what you read or want to read. OR if you don’t record your reading life, why not? Do you use Good Reads or another online method? Do you have a physical book dedicated to book lists? What else do you keep track of in your reading life? Number of pages read? A summary of each book read? Do you give books stars to evaluate what you’ve read? I would love to learn it all. Send me an email at nagneberg48@gmail.com and do it soon, please. I have an August 20th deadline, so I am working on this now. Thanks–and I hope to hear from you.

Thanks to all of you who have responded. I intend to respond to each of you personally, but before I can do that, please know I am grateful.

Book Report: July Round-Up

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August 3, 2023

Special Request:

Before I share the highlights of my July books, I have a request. I am writing an article for BookWomen about keeping a book journal and TBR (To Be Read) lists. I would love to hear from you about the ways you keep track of what you read or want to read. OR if you don’t record your reading life, why not? Do you use Good Reads or another online method? Do you have a physical book dedicated to book lists? What else do you keep track of in your reading life? Number of pages read? A summary of each book read? Do you give books stars to evaluate what you’ve read? I would love to learn it all. Send me an email at nagneberg48@gmail.com and do it soon, please. I have an August 20th deadline, so I am working on this now. Thanks–and I hope to hear from you.

Now For the Summary.

The shortest summary is to say –Lots of hot days created lots of reading time!

As noted in my post on July 13, I entered the month taking a time -out from other activities to read, read, read. The reading pace slowed down a bit the rest of the month, but I can easily report another good book month.

Beyond the books mentioned previously in my July posts, can I pick a favorite book of the month? Tough one. Here are two in contention:

  • The Female Persuasion by Meg Wolitzer. I was surprised I had not read this book in the past, for it is just my kind of book–strong female characters coming into their own. Faith Frank is an influential feminist and Greer hears her speak when she is in college, eventually going to work for Frank’s foundation. The side stories–Greer’s high school/college boyfriend Cory and her best friend, Lee–are all engrossing as well. A favorite line, although there were many.

You know, I sometimes think the most effective people in the world are introverts who taught themselves how to be extroverts.

p. 45
  • The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams. This intriguing novel is based on the true story about the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary in the early 20th century against the background of women’s suffrage in the UK and also WWI. The main character is Esme, whose father is a lexicographer, and she is present with him in the scriptorium from a very early age. She falls in love with words, especially the words discarded by the dictionary men. Those are the words used by women and by other classes. Esme goes on to create a dictionary of those lost words. I loved her personal story, too–how she surmounts a sad chapter in her life and is supported by women, including the servant Lizzy.

We can’t always make the choices we’d like, but we can try to make the best of what we must settle for. Take care not to dwell.

p. 200

By the time you read this, I will have finished a new book by Pip Williams, The Bookbinder. Set in the same time period and at the Oxford Press, it includes some of the characters from The Dictionary of Lost Words. I love this book, too.

I also loved Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson, which I think pairs well with Maud Martha (See the July 27 post.). Each chapter is short with short, almost stand-alone paragraphs. One character is the focus of each chapter and is written in third person, but in such a way that it felt like first person. The story evolves from the birth of a child to a 16 year old couple, Iris and Aubrey. The three live with Iris’s parents until Iris leaves Brooklyn and goes to Oberlin College in Ohio. Set in contemporary times, but there is also reference to the Tulsa Massacre in 1921. I almost started re-reading this book when I finished the last page, for it was so beautifully written, and I would take more care reading it a second time with the readers’ guide questions in mind.

One of my purchases at Once Upon A Crime bookstore was the first book in the Vera Stanhope series by Ann Cleeves, The Crow Trap. (I like the Vera tv series.) I enjoyed the book, despite the fact that Vera doesn’t even appear until page 125, but the story is interesting and the ending, surprising. I may read more in the series eventually, but right now I am more intrigued with the Simon Serailler series by Susan Hill. I read #2, The Pure in Heart and #3, The Rock of Darkness and #4 and #5 are waiting for me on my TBR shelf.

What’s Ahead in August?

Our car could be labelled a “bookmobile.” This past weekend we visited two favorite bookstore: Arcadia Books in Spring Green, WI, and Mystery to Me in Madison, WI. I found several books on my TBR list:

  • A Change of Circumstance by Susan Hill
  • The Bookbinder by Pip WIlliams
  • The Prodigal Women by Nancy Hale (Arcadia recently did a review of the re-issue of this book published in the 40’s)
  • Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver (A book I have been wanting to re-read.)
  • French Exit by Patrick DeWitt
  • The One Hundred Years of Lenin and Margot by Marianne Cronin
  • A Life of One’s Own, 9 Women Writers Begin Again by Joanna Biggs

When I visit a destination bookstore, I also like to buy something not on my TBR list–a wild card. This time I bought Flatlands by Sue Hubbard and Late in the Day by Tessa Hadley.

Bruce did well, too, as you can see from the pile in the trunk.

An Invitation

Any wild cards in your reading life? I would love to know.

The Lessons of A Temporary Space

/ nagneberg48 / 13 Comments

August 1, 2023

The steps to the garret needed a fresh coat of paint. The white was dingy and scuffed –no matter how much I scrubbed, and frankly, I was tired of scrubbing. The first decision was to change from white to a pleasant blue, but the second decision was harder—when?! 

I spend a lot of time in the garret. I meet with clients there. I write there and do other desk tasks there. That’s where I create the materials for my groups. My spirituality library and lots of other stuff is there. Plus, the walk-in closet houses the majority of my clothes. 

Since it was too hot to work in the garden, my husband volunteered to take on the project, but the sanding, painting, and drying process would most likely take three days–maybe more. 

I needed to move my center of operations. Fortunately, I have a good alternative. The snug. I even have a desk there, and some of my clients prefer to meet there, instead of climbing the stairs. Up and down I went, moving my laptop, printer, lots of files. LOTS of files, as I considered the projects I needed to work on for the next few days. Stapler. Thesaurus. Oh, and clothes and shoes. What would I want to wear?

Much to my surprise, the space felt comfortable and cozy and I enjoyed working there. If I needed to live only on the first floor, the snug could be my office. 

Even more of a surprise: the stairs were finished and dry in a couple days and I returned to the garret. 

This temporary move plus the fact that we are in the early talking stages about remodeling our first floor bathroom to include a shower (The only shower in the house is in the bathroom in the finished lower level) makes me think even more about the conversation we elders seem to have every time we get together. 

Next steps. What will be our next home? And when? And, of course, the ongoing conversation about the process of getting to that next home –the dreaded downsizing!

Bruce and I plan to stay in our home as long as possible, bringing in services as needed. What would that mean? Is it possible to live only on the first floor, for example? How do we need to prepare for that possibility? Would I stay in this house if Bruce were to die before me? No. I would find it challenging to maintain the home (His gardens!) and would prefer to move into a nice apartment. He, however, would stay in the house if he survives me. 

That’s what we think now, but who knows what might influence a different answer and outcome. And who knows when that will happen. 

How important it is to stay aware of what we are thinking and feeling. What do we need to do now, in order to live our elder life in the best way possible? What do we worry about? What are we experiencing? Enjoying?

How am I changing and what does that mean to how I live? How do I want to use my energy? And how can I stay open to change and ways of coping and managing that change? Am I willing to receive and even ask for help? 

How important it is to listen to the messages I state so vehemently to myself and perhaps to others. Are there areas where I am in denial or stuck? 

“I will not get a hearing aid.” 

 “I will never use a cane.” 

 “I will not move into assisted living.” 

 “I will not give-up driving.” 

“I can’t live without all my books.”  

“We have always had Christmas here and we always will” 

OR… 

Fill-in the blank.

Sometimes I think we elders return to our two-year old toddler beings. “I won’t do it, and you can’t make me.” 

How important it is to continue the conversation. What concerns the family members who love and support us? How is it we hope to live as we age and how can we make that happen? How can these years continue to unfold and enfold us as the people we were created to be and as the beloved of God?

In the meantime I have returned to the garret, but I have returned feeling more willing and able to open my heart and mind to the gifts and the challenges of my next steps. 

An Invitation

What are your thoughts about the next steps, the next place? What gets in the way of being open to those steps? I would love to know. 

Book Report: Maud Martha by Gwendolyn Brooks

/ nagneberg48 / 2 Comments

July 27, 2023

In 1972 or ’73 I taught an English class at Webster Groves High School called “The Outnumbered.” I assume I was assigned that class because I was the youngest, least experienced member of the English department, and the chairs of the department thought I might relate to the “nontraditional” content more than some of the other teachers. In reality I was a white privileged woman who had received a classical English education, but I dug in and was determined to teach “relevant” material to my integrated classes in that St Louis suburb.

I remember introducing this poem by Gwendolyn Brooks. 

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

I wish I could remember if there was any discussion about the poem, but I imagine that some of my students who had escaped inner city life knew much more about the meaning of this poem than I did. Over the years I read other poems by Gwendolyn Brooks and her famous counterparts like Langston Hughes and later one of her students, Nikki Giovanni, and I remember reading her children’s book, Bronzeville Boys and Girls, but I remember the illustrations by Faith Ringgold more than the words. I knew she was famous and celebrated. In fact, she was the first Black woman to be given the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry (Annie Allen in 1950) and in 1985 she was the first Black woman to be named as the consultant in poetry to the Library of Congress (a role now known as poet laureate), and she was given the National Medal of the Arts in 1995. The list goes on….

Until recently, I had not read any of her novels, but a friend sent me Maud Martha (1953), a short book of only 180 pages, and I read it almost in one sitting–not just because it is short, but because the language, the rhythm of her sentences and the insights into the life of an African American woman in the ’50s was vivid, moving, and revealing.

But dandelions are what she chiefly saw. Yellow jewels for everyday, studding the patched green dress of her back yard. She liked their demure prettiness second to their everydayness; for in that latter quality she thought she saw a picture of herself, and it was comforting to find that what was common could also be a flower.

p. 2

My favorite chapter, perhaps, was”Kitchenette Folks,” which included descriptions of the people who lived in the building where Maud Martha, her husband Paul, and daughter Paulette lived. Marie “wore flimsy black nightgowns and bathed always once and sometimes twice a day in water generously treated with bath crystals…” or Clement Levy, a little boy. “Lewy life was not terrifically tossed. Saltless, rather. Or like an unmixed batter. Lumpy.”

There were also insights into black-white interactions.

Mrs Teenie Thompson. Fifty-three; and pepper whenever she talked of the North Shore people who had employed her as housemaid for ten years. ‘She went to hugging’ and kissin’ of me –course I got to receive it–I got to work for ’em. But they think they got me thinkin’ they love me. Then I’m supposed to kill my silly self slavin’ for ’em. To be worthy of their love. These old whi’ folks. They jive you, honey. Well, I jive ’em just like they jive me. They can’t beat me jivin’. They’ll have to jive much, to come anywhere near my mark in jivin’.’

p. 119

I know there is so much good contemporary fiction to read by persons of color, but consider spending time with a classic.

An Invitation

Have you read any “classics” recently? I would love to know.

A Request:

I am writing an article for one of my favorite publications about books and readers, BookWomen. http://www.bookwomen.net The topic is keeping a book journal and TBR lists. I would love to hear from any of you who keep lists of what you want to read and/or what you have read and any details about that process. Email me at nagneberg48@gmail.com