My favorites of 2013...

As I've mentioned on more than one occasion, one of my favorite pastimes is reading.  In fact, a friend and I have organized a Book Club that will meet for the first time next week.   When I finish a book, I record it on a list with a short synopsis--I remember authors' names, but not always book titles.  Here are some of my favorites from 2013...

THE BOOK THIEF by Markus Zusak -- An amazingly well told story of a young German girl, living in a foster home on the outskirts of Munich during WWII.  Great author!
 

A WEEK IN WINTER by Maeve Binchy -- The author’s last book, published after her death.  A lovely story of people who go to Stone House on the west coast of Ireland for a week.  As usual, Ms Binchy is wonderful at back stories and bringing in characters from previous books so we can catch up on the lives of favorite people.  Read with melancholy knowing there would be no more books by a favorite author.

 

VOICES IN SUMMER by Rosamunde Pilcher  -- Another pleasurable read in Pilcher style.  The story centers around a woman who goes to Cornwall to recuperate.  She is greeted with warmth and the opportunity to make friends and learn about herself and her husband’s family. 

EXODUS by Leon Uris -- The story of the exodus of Jews from Europe after WWII and the refusal of the British to allow them to enter Palestine.  The book goes from wartime to the birth of the State of Israel.  Well told, good research, great characters that blend history and fiction.

THE ALCHEMIST by Paulo Coelho -- A young shepherd wants to follow his dream, so he goes on an adventure that ultimately allows his dream to become reality--a story of personal growth and learning to allow the universe into your life.  Wonderful use of cultural and religious beliefs.

AND THE MOUNTAINS ECHOED by Khalid Husseini -- Another amazing book written by an author that just gets better and better.  The story begins in Afghanistan with a poor family.  A daughter is taken to live with a more affluent family in Kabul.  The twists and turns created by war, poverty, and deceit separate families culturally and geographically.  And amazingly, the story finds its way back to reconnections.  I know I'll read this book again.

BOTSWANA TIME by Will Randall -- A delightful book about the author's time teaching in a town in Botswana.  Written in the humorous style of Bill Bryson.  Good read!

UNTIL THE LAST ARROW by Percy Booth -- A wonderful history of the settlement of the Rogue Valley from the early 1800s when the white man began arriving.

COCKTAIL HOUR UNDER THE TREE OF FORGETFULNESS by Alexandra Fuller -- Well written with humor and a candidness that is admirable.  The author, of English/Scottish parents, grew up in various countries in Africa.  The experiences this family lives through--poverty, wars for independence, and the everyday reality of wild animals and poisonous snakes--gives the story truisms that only test the reader's value system.  Great book!

THE LIGHT IN THE RUINS by Chris Bohjalian -- I have read several books by this author and enjoyed them--but others I couldn't get into.  This one I could hardly put down!  The story takes place in Italy in 1955--with a back story from the war years.  A novel that helps one understand the long lasting effects of war.

SECRET DAUGHTER by Shilpi Somaya Gowda -- A beautifully written story about a mother in India who gives up her daughter to save the child's life.  She is adopted by an Indian man and a white woman in CA.  The story follows the lives of both families for the next 25 years.  (A chance purchase from Costco--and I can't wait for the author's next book!)

DREAMS IN THE TIME OF WAR--A childhood Memoir by Ngugi wa Thiong'o -- Thiong'o tells the story of growing up in Limuru, Kenya, and his perspective relative to Kenya's fight for independence from the British.  Well told!

SONGS OF WILLOW FROST by Jamie Ford -- Another great author!  The story of Chinese-American ancestry--tells of Liu Song's struggle of survival in a time when overt prejudice against the Chinese community and her gender shape her young life, and her inability to keep her beloved child.

Let me know some of your good reads for the year!

 What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, 

you wish the author...was a terrific friend of yours 

and you could call him up...whenever you felt like it. 

That doesn't happen much, though.

        -- J.D. Salinger

Just floatin' along...

One of my favorite Christmas gifts this year was a trip to Float On (see http://floathq.com/ ) in Portland.  Jen and I have been there before, but this time, perhaps because I felt more familiar, I had no nervous anticipation.

Have you ever floated?  Do you know what floating is?  It is literally about the body floating in highly concentrated Epsom salts water in a tank in total darkness.   Due to the level of Epsom salts, the body naturally floats. (AND BY THE WAY...The water is fully filtered 3 times between each float, passing through a 10 micron filter and a brominator.)  Since I'm not really a water-person, when I first heard of the experience, I was hesitant, yet instantly curious. 

A great deal of research has gone into this form of body therapy.  Besides the obvious relaxation of spending 90 minutes floating without distractions in a dark chamber--this experience lowers the body's levels of cortisol, the main chemical component of stress; helps to relieve pain; and gives the muscles, joints and bones a break while not having to fight gravity. 

Thank you, Jen!  A lovely together experience...no, not together!  In separate tanks, in separate rooms...

It's over but the memories...

Christmas morning.  I'm laying in my granddaughter's bed listening to Lucy, my beautiful grand dog whining at the door.  If I dare open it, I'll have a 90 pound bundle of love cuddled next to me within seconds.  That's 90 pounds added to the 70 pounds of canine fur already curled beside me on his new Christmas blanket. 

Yes, Christmas at Jen's house is about including ALL members of the family--canine, feline, and hum-ine. 

The traditional Chinese Christmas eve meal--no idea how this began, but it's a must...  Gifts opened.  Oohs and awhs, surprises, laughter, thank yous--followed by a disappearing act to the media center to gain competence on the newest inventions of technology. 

Then mamma in her kerchief and tiredness acknowledged, I settle myself down for a good rest and thoughts of gratitude for being a part of it all.

Just a touch of holiday melancholy...

My mother's last pair of glasses lay on a shelf in my bedroom.   And now, during the holiday season, I look at them often.   

The other evening, a friend and I watched a very old movie starring the very young actors, Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor and Angela Lansbury.  Curled up on the couch I wondered if Mother ever saw this movie.  I need to call and ask her, I think.  Just as quickly, of course, I realize no such call can be made.

In the Dollar Store recently, I saw red socks in various Christmasy patterns.  Mother had socks for all holidays--and red was her favorite color.

The winter-time jokes we made about sending her wheelchair skimming across the ice...laughing that she could skate on one leg--via the chair--while I'd just fall on my arse with two legs....  

Melancholy.  Softer and gentler now.  Ending with a smile.

When a daughter loses a mother, the intervals between grief responses lengthen over time, 

but her longing never disappears. It always hovers at the edge of her awareness, 

prepared to surface at any time, in any place, in the least expected ways.
― Hope Edelman, Motherless Daughters:  The Legacy of Loss 

 

Pull of the Inner Me...

I'm recently finished The Pull of the Moon by Elizabeth Berg.  Nan, the protagonist, is a woman who loves her husband and daughter, but in 20 years of marriage has lost herself.  She sets out on a road trip to find who she is at the age of 50--to remember who she was and what parts of the past need to be revisited, and what she wants to take into her future. 

Who of us--especially women--haven't thought of such an adventure?  This may take some real honesty to admit.   As a young woman, my identity and purpose were so tied into being a good wife and mother that I unconsciously closed off any such reflection.  After the Girls left, that thinking surfaced.  But the trip never happened--not in any physical, hitting-the-pavement way.  That energy went into journals--writing, day-after-day--expressing my thoughts in a more exposed way.  I was not so bold as to say I've got to get away or If I could just get in the car....  No, my references were far more subtle--I wasn't ready to be completely honest even with myself.

Today I live alone and one would think--why does she need to get away?  And it's true, I can do most anything my budget and time allows.  But there's still a part of me that wants to hit the road...to experience an objectivity by being unknown, perhaps even unseen.  I'd like to get in my car and drive on only two-lane roads, stop in small towns, eat in Mom and Pop diners, listen to local conversations.  I want to stop along the road and listen to sounds--birds, creeks, the rustling of the wind.

I have no need to escape anyone or anything.  I'm really quite content with my life.  Perhaps I'm wondering if there are parts of me yet undiscovered.  And will I find them--on my own--without a voice next to me saying, O look at that! or are you hungry yet? or where do you want to stay tonight?  I want to use all my senses to experience me in an unknown setting.  

Note to self:  Add to Bucket List for Spring, 2014 

You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition.  What you'll discover will be wonderful.  What you'll discover is yourself.  ~Alan Alda

Other options...

I love having conversations with my grandson, Sean.  No matter what the topic, when we're deeply engrossed in a subject--oblivious of anyone or anything around us--he'll pull back and say, "But, Grandma, if you look at it from another point of view...."  I LOVE that quality in him.   Sean has opinions, sometimes strong opinions, but consistently stops to view other ideas, notions, and  research around the topic.  He stretches my mind.  He makes me think.  But more importantly, he inspires me to find greater empathy for other people and ideas.

I am continually tested by the question: Am I so engrained in my own ideas and opinions that I refuse to consider other options?

I sit on a board that discusses child abuse cases.  From the notes I receive on any one case, it can appear obvious that a parent is making no effort to engage in services.  My defenses for the children are up!  I want this parent to be held accountable!  Then I hear from the client, and I see the pain, and realize how few tools there are in their fix-it toolbox.  A single parent.  Homeless.  Trying to get off drugs but with only drug-using friends.  Certainly this parent must be held accountable, but hearing another perspective on the  story, I see this individual before me in a completely different light. 

Occasionally I meet someone socially whom I want to dislike--hair color, shape of nose;  we need little rationale.   I  look for any reason to build my case against the person.   Then I hear their story.  I slip on their soil-ridden, holey-soled shoes.   A picture of their life slips into my heart.  And I hear Sean's words:  But Grandma, if you look at it from another point of view....

I continue to learn from the older and wiser AND from the younger and sometimes much wiser...

“You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, 

until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”

                      ---Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

Awww...beautiful winter white.

Snow, I want to wash my hands, my hair and face in snow...who doesn't sing along with Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye and Vera Ellen each year as we watch White Christmas?  Awww--snow!  Our Courier and Ives picture....beautiful, heavy white flakes descending gracefully as we snuggle in our blankets of cuddly fleece watching movies or playing games and drinking hot chocolate...   I can't get enough of that lovely scene.  It's magical...

That was yesterday.  Today I look out and see tire tracks and dog-pee stains where I once saw an unmarked expanse of winter white.  Now the temperatures refuse to climb and I begin to worry about frozen pipes and icy roads and my weakened body lying in a heap of dirty, contaminated snow trying in vain to trudge to the nearest store because I've not a morsel of food left.

OK -- my Courier and Ives vision has been replaced with a warm, sandy beach in the Bahamas.  Call me fickle, but I'm ready for a Chinook!