Book Review: Riding Shotgun, by Rita Mae Brown

Interesting emotional romp thru the centuries. The ending was a bit of a let down, but otherwise the story is very good.

The reason I say the ending was a bit disappointing is because it feels as if the author expended all of her energy writing the book until the last 50 pages or so, and then rushed through to get it finished. Where for most of the book we get exquisite detail about situations that range from fox hunting to traveling through time, with well-developed characters a reader can truly want to get to know, and deliciously detailed descriptions of places and events, toward the end after a major, life-changing turn of events is starting to be reconciled, the story becomes little more than a quick by-rote narration of events, including some that are chaotic and emotionally damaging. Gone is the depth of feeling coupled with careful thought and analysis, in favor of a hair-raising churning through a family and friendship-wrecking series of experiences, galloping to an ultimately unsatisfying ending - all at once too brief and almost painful. It would have been better if the author perhaps took a break, thoroughly re-read the book to the point of the return from the multi-century foxhunt, and then carefully continued toward bringing the book to a satisfying close. If the point is, as it seems to be, for the main character to apply lessons learned from history, the same care and attention should have been paid to this portion of the book as was clearly taken in the first two-thirds.
The main character, a middle-aged woman named Pryor (which is a historical name in her family), but for some unknown reason goes by the nickname "Cig," is believable and interesting. She's widowed, self-contained, strong, and raising two teenagers with more than a little aplomb. But she's not perfect - far from it - but her flaws are not unmanageable, nor do they detract from her likability. The ensemble cast of characters is varied and authentic, and the plot for the most part flows smoothly and is easy to follow. Even when the story becomes a bit implausible, it is still very well written and therefore believable, which is the point, I believe.
The conflict that becomes the heart of the story between two sisters is very real, and Cig has long believed there is a truth that her sister Grace is hiding about what happened. In the end, the truth surprises everyone, and I'm not sure it's fully realized or acknowledged. There's a lot of crying and screaming and fit-throwing, which may or may not be cathartic. There are promises made, but whether they are fulfilled is anyone's guess. Some of that truth remains elusive, I think. There could have been more to this story, in that way, as well as others.
The historical characters were endearing and not stereotypical. The scenes during this time were very well done - you can feel the snow on your cheeks, the cold, the sunny breeze on a warm day. There are no laments about the clothing, thank goodness (a personal pet peeve). Cig sees a lot in this time to appreciate and is respectful of the differences, so she learns and adapts very well. I really love this part of the book. You can really see her starting to grow, especially as she feels herself being drawn to the people she meets, some perhaps a bit more than others. She is really good at giving people their due, and is able to develop true friendships, bonding with not only her family members but with several others.
Unfortunately the author attempts to bind the historical story with the modern one in an ultimately dissatisfying way.

Having Fritz - or his historical double - show up at the very, very end of the last two pages was about as piquant and frustrating as a mouthful of cold coffee. That touch, imho, was pure effrontery on the part of the author. A better writer would have either omitted that bit completely - I mean, we do find out what had happened to that character so there was no mystery there - or brought the character in gradually, just like the historical friendship that had blossomed originally, and quite naturally, into something more. But teasing the reader with a sudden appearance right at the very end? Gross.

Violence is depicted realistically in the book, especially in historical context, where the author shines with not only making it believable, but applicable to the plot and characters. Sadly, the depictions of violence seem either dated, gratuitous, or just wrong in the modern-day (1999) portion.
The title of the book, "Riding Shotgun," is quite dated, trite, and really doesn't apply to anything that happens in the book other than one or two references to "riding shotgun through history" - and what does that even mean? Especially in the context of this book. The main character travels back in time on horseback, where there is no "riding shotgun." It's an inept analogy at best. Books have been re-titled and this one needs to be.
I honestly wonder if the author might revisit the story and write the ending differently, too. If so, the entire book would make a fabulous movie. As a writer, I'm tempted to pen a bit of transformative fiction myself here. As it is, the last quarter of the book brought it down from an otherwise five stars to four. Still a very good read, as I said, but the story that could have been written - like the truth that Cig seeks - is still out there.

Content Warnings:
Moderate: Domestic abuse, Emotional abuse, and Physical abuse
Minor: Emotional abuse
There is minor emotional abuse that I attribute mainly to plot devices that are extremely dated now. However, toward the end, there is a violent physical altercation between two members of the Hunt Club, a married couple that is extremely disruptive, dangerous, and ends up involving others.

>The aggressor is punched in the face by a teenager, which halts the fight, and the teenager is then lauded for his "quick thinking."

No one remarks on the fact that this altercation is essentially an attempted murder right in front of everyone. No assistance or health care is even offered to the injured person, who bears heavy marks and is clearly injured; they all just get on their horses and begin the event after the fight is stopped. As I said, this part is very dated and unsatisfactory all around.

The Legend of Billie Jean's Heartfelt Brilliance: A Retrospective

I found this gem that can be watched for free on the YouTubes: The Legend of Billie Jean

Now, if you haven't watched this movie recently, or heaven forbid you never heard of this movie, run, don't walk, and WATCH IT RIGHT NOW.

This movie has aged incredibly well. In the day, I don't think certain people took it seriously. But if you were a traumatized young woman, and there were a lot more of us than perhaps people realize - Billie Jean was like a bolt of lightning. She shone like a gilded arrow soaring straight into the heart of the patriarchy. And we loved her for it.

The first five minutes of the movie are like a cold water bath in lost memory: the skinny clothes, the easy acceptance of poverty, the sweat, the feel of the wind in your hair on the back of a speeding open two-wheeled vehicle. I'd forgotten none of us wore bras. I'd forgotten we used to run around half-naked because there was no such thing as central air-conditioning. I'd forgotten how much of life we spent outside. (Would you have stayed inside those brown-paneled, dimly-lit, cigarette-smoke-filled, claustrophobic rooms? Me neither.) I also forgot just how inundated we were with sexual harassment that crossed physical boundaries, and how little equipped we were as young women and girls to deal with it. But it's there, right there, in all its obtuse ugliness.

This movie was one of the most realistic depictions of what life was like for people like me who grew up in the South in the 1970s in cinema - right up there with Virgin Suicides. Some people missed that. I read somewhere that "girls wouldn't have cut their hair like that just to be like her. That's unrealistic and made the movie seem [more trite etc etc]." Of course this was written by a male. And tell that to the thousands of people who watched the movie and then went straight into their bathrooms and cut off their own locks. Like I did. I hadn't had short hair for nearly a decade at that point, but something about BJ's shorn head called out to my recently bereaved soul: I had given a baby up for adoption, and almost no one knew how much I still grieved, nearly two years after the fact. Cutting my hair defiantly in the mirror did lead me to a beautician's chair to clean up the mess I'd made but the gesture meant something. Not for nothing did people in past centuries shave their heads when something awful happened. There's something purifying about this act, a ritual casting out of inner demons, a denial to the world that "everything's all right."

Sometimes everything is absolutely not all right, and this is one way to get people to pay attention and look a bit closer. Sometimes it's the only way to signal things are not all right. Sometimes we don't have words. Sometimes we just feel compelled to do something physically to ourselves, and we may not even know why, but it's a call we absolutely must answer. It's more than a "new look;" we're ready to step into a new identity, and take on the world.

Brava, lady. You go.

A reviewer took issue with Billie Jean's response to the 14-year old Putter's beginning of her period. The writer clearly completely misunderstood Billie Jean's advice to "lie down and take it easy" as "fear"?! Nothing of the kind. Unlike many depictions of this event in cinema both before and since that reflects the negativity about it more common in the real world, Billie Jean celebrated Putter's getting her period. "That's wonderful!" she crowed, and promptly took Putter to the dock for a ceremonial (and practical) bath, wrapping her tenderly in a big towel. When she said, "Lie down and take it easy," it was a way of saying, "Job well done! You've earned some well-deserved rest after that crazy thing we all just went through that you handled amazingly well." There was not a trace of fear in any of their responses. To think otherwise shows how little that reviewer was paying attention.

Paying attention is exactly what Billie Jean was doing. The things that happened to her and to her brother caused her to stop, pause, and consider carefully a most human and reasonable response. She shrugged off the violence that had been done to her own person (and god did that feel familiar); she just wanted the people who were responsible for wrecking her brother's scooter to pay for the repairs. It was that simple. She didn't ask them for respect, or admission of guilt. She just wanted her brother to have his scooter back in working order. But in so doing, she forced people to look at themselves and consider their actions. To recognize they had done wrong. And unfortunately, when some people do that, they lash out at the messenger: in this case, Billie Jean and her friends who supported her.

Sound familiar?

Some people have learned nothing in the nearly 40 (!) years since this movie was released. That damn film was ahead of its time; its themes of social justice, anarchic movements, and anti-capitalism seemed pragmatic and real at the time. After all, "Fair is fair!" And the fuckers eventually got what was coming to them. It's almost eerie how the youth as depicted in this movie instantly got the message that Billie Jean was sending. Surely these were lessons the world was learning. Right? Right?! ... Then again the whole damn 80s were a tease that things would be better and life was going to make more sense in the coming years. But not all of us were evolving. Not everyone wanted fairness and freedom and happiness. We underestimated the sheer tenacity and meanness of the patriarchy, unfortunately.

At the end of the movie, Billie Jean and her brother are taking off for long-talked-of Vermont. Christian Slater's character notices a red snowmobile that quite obviously reminds him of his lost Honda Elite, and he stops to admire it, proving that in spite of their troubles, his interest in fast and shiny things hasn't been destroyed. Billie Jean has her eyes on the road. She seems to hope things are going to be all right, but there's a wariness, a hard-won wisdom that she wears like a veil. She's beautiful and strong and represents all things good. But she's alone, except for a younger person she'll have to watch over and keep out of trouble. She's every single-mother and older-sister out there. One wonders where Lloyd is, what their parting was like. One hopes Putter and Ophelia are okay. But we don't know. All we can do is hope.

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. (attributed to Jean-Baptiste Alphonse 1808–1890 French novelist and editor)

References:
Remembering Legend of Billie Jean: The First Great Female Superhero Movie
28 Things We Learned from the Legend of Billie Jean Commentary
44 Facts About the Movie The Legend of Billie Jean
Cult Classic Legend of Billie Jean Still Relevant Today
Wikipedia entry "The Legend of Billie Jean"

Book Review: Greta by J. S. Lemon

A sweet coming-of-age story about a young girl who experiences some of the things we all do growing up, and some very unusual things indeed. Greta and her best friend Lotti share a deep bond of friendship, and are joined by their creative friend Astrid in navigating some of the trials and tribulations of middle school - social events, homework, and boys. They feel the thrills of being noticed by someone they like, and then the disappointment and stress when things may not go the way they hoped. One of them is even sexually assaulted by the person she thought was a nice admirer, which coincides with changes that start inside her body but are soon noticeable to everyone.

The theme of the story is growth and change, sometimes painful, and in a small way, loss of innocence and becoming more aware of the dangers that can beset young girls. Greta feels herself growing stronger and more able to deal with teasing and ostracizing, and even defends - loudly - her friend Lotti when she is called names by some cruel peers. While in some ways Greta is finding change hard to deal with, especially the prospect and preparations for the upcoming family move to a larger house, the ways that she adapts and even embraces the visible and invisible changes happening to her body and personality are admirable and engaging.

The language of the book is simple and relatable, and I think middle grade readers will really enjoy the story. Thanks to NetGalley and publisher MacMillan for the advance copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: The Salt Bairns, by Cynthia Tidrick

The Salt Bairns by Cynthia Tidrick
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I was fortunate to receive an advance copy of THE SALT BAIRNS and have to say, it was one of the most meaningful and insightful fiction reads I've been privileged to find in a very long time. Cynthia Tidrick has constructed a magical world, full of shadows and vice, and yet the colors and characters within the narrative surround each other and the protagonist with genuine feeling and knowledge. The reader cannot help but become swallowed up in their world, traveling onward in a rich and memorable adventure as the story unfolds. The author's unusual turns of phrase are yet clear and so beautiful, with atmospheric descriptions that enable the reader to grasp deeper meaning and understanding of the many layers in this tale. Skillful and sometimes shocking illustrations add to the fantastical quasi-realism of the work. Five glorious stars.

*Thank you to the Author for the advance read copy.

View all my reviews

Sweet, Sweet Sunday

Sunday is a day of rest, goes the old adage, and I do subscribe to it. But today I'm making jam with plums my aunt, uncle, cousin, and I picked last Sunday afternoon from the ancient tree in my yard. I also hung out a load of laundry earlier, a ritual I crave for its simplicity and tactile pleasure.

It isn't work if you love it and it relaxes, reaffirms you. No, I truly believe it's part of the dance of the good life.

Together we picked 25 pounds of fruit last weekend. My aunt usually makes a simple jam based on an old USDA recipe. The wonderful thing about fresh-picked damsons is, in spite of the fact that they are a clingstone fruit, there is usually very little waste. From the entire batch I only found three plums I had to discard due to blemishes or rot. They are sturdy and simple to clean; the stems usually pop right off without tugging.

Here's my recipe for the jam, or rather preserves since I don't grind up all the pulp and fruit skin in a blender and it uses less sugar. I like the texture of the simple combination of fruit in its own rich nectar, and the slow simmering preserves the most flavour:

Damson Plum Preserves

10 lbs fresh plums, washed & picked
3 c water
6 c organic cane sugar

Place plums and water in large dutch oven, cover, and heat slowly at medium temperature, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking. When the mixture boils, set timer for 30 minutes. Keep covered and reduce heat to medium-low, stirring occasionally. Stir with wooden spoon and press lightly to encourage splitting of the pulp, which will make the pits easier to remove later. Reduce heat if necessary to keep from boiling over, and continue simmering for an additional 20 minutes.

When the mixture has cooked thoroughly for at least an hour, pulp has absorbed the dark red coloring of the mixture and the liquid has reduced slightly, turn off and set aside half-covered for about an hour until it is cool enough to touch. Stir lightly and pour mixture through a sieve into a large plastic or glass bowl, pressing to get as much pulp as possible to separate from the pits. Stir and return to dutch oven; set mixture aside.

Working over a second clean bowl, carefully remove pits from the remainder of the mixture in the sieve and discard them. When the remainder has been picked clean of pits, return it to the rest of the mixture and combine with sugar. Stir thoroughly.

Place mixture back in heavy saucepan or dutch oven, cover, and heat slowly to boiling a second time. Be careful not to heat too quickly or scorching can occur. Cook carefully over medium- to medium-low temperature until mixture reaches 220 degrees. This may take an hour, more or less. Boil for ten minutes until jell stage is reached. Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly, checking for thickening.

Pour into hot, clean jars, seal, and process in water bath canner for 10 minutes. Alternately, I am told you can skip the processing if your jars have been boiled and sterilized. A friend does it this way:

... when I do jelly and jam I try to take the jars out of hot water or dishwasher and fill with boiling jam. Then put on lids and invert on counter for five minutes and then turn right side up and wait for ping. I don't use a canner for jelly or jam as the product is hot and sterile, the jar is hot and sterile, and the lids are hot and sterile and they seal nicely. Never lost a jar this way, only in pressure canner.

While the jam is cooling, go check the laundry. Stretch your arms up high. Breathe in the goodness.

Images and content copyright (c) 2015 Susannah Eanes. All rights reserved.

Review: Turtle Moon

Turtle Moon by Alice Hoffman

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



About halfway through this book I wrote the following: "One of my gauges for a great read is one that continually sends me back to a work in progress to do an inspired creativity dump that seems to come out of nowhere. It's like the story dials into my subconscious and tells me things I didn't know I knew. This is one of those books. It's quirky, human, and all-too-real. The characters are alternately loveable and maddening, just like most folk I know."

I really didn't want this book to end, but at the same time, it was time to leave the story, and further words might have become maudlin or mundane. That is not to say I understand every character's motivation, or that the book ended happily. You'll have to find that out for yourself. Still, I'd love to read a sequel set maybe twenty or thirty further years in the future, to see if the boy and the baby ever meet again as adults, and what happens then.

And now, it's back to my own writing, because - as I said in so many words - there are things tumbling out of every creative port of my psyche, that must be set down.




View all my reviews

The Greening of the Willow

Willows Lit Up by the Sun, Shishkin

So many things come bubbling up this time of year - and for some reason we seem to want to share them all, with someone, anyone, anywhere.  As the sap rises, so does the mind, so does the blood.  We feel a warm breeze, the air is scented with freshly mown grass, we hear birds twittering on the fencepost, we see the sky blue as paint and studded with wisps of cloud; we point and say, "Look, over there. Do you see it too?"  And we are happy for no particular reason. Like Lorraine DiSabato of Hoarded Ordinaries writes, "the simple experience of awareness, communication, and connection is enough."

Suddenly we believe in the simple act of renewal and rebirth.  We are reminded that nothing is forever lost, evidence is all around proving the point.  Indeed, our senses are assaulted with proof.

We move in and out of doors, laundering and airing out linens, boxing up winter's woolens, sweeping out the cobwebs from the corners. Baskets of ripe fruit appear in the markets, our nostrils twitch at the smell of baking bread. We sink our fingers into the warm, pliant earth, crumble in a few seeds, pat the soil back in place, and wait for the soft spring rains to come. New calves stagger after their mothers grazing in the meadows; Venus glows with luminous allure in the heavens of early evening.

Use up the last of winter's baking supplies with these easy cookies. Perfect with slowly steeped green tea perfumed with honey and a small dish of frozen yogurt.

Winter Begone Bars

3/4 stick butter, softened
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tbsp molasses
1 1/2 c. sugars - you can mix white, brown, and confectioner's sugars if you like
1 egg
1 c whole or lo-fat milk

Cream together thoroughly in medium bowl and set aside.

1 1/4 c. whole, rolled oats
1 1/2 c. unbleached flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/3 c. chopped nuts (walnuts, pecans, almonds or variety)
1/2 c. Ghiardelli chocolate chips
1/3 c. flaked coconut
1/3 c. whole raisins, currants, cranberries (or a mixture)

Combine dry ingredients in order in large bowl, mixing thoroughly after each addition.
Add butter-sugar mixture to large bowl, stir well to mix.

Pour into greased 13x9x2-inch glass pan.  Bake 35-40 minutes at 350 degrees F until done.  Cut into 2" squares.

Variation:  For an alternative taste, reduce milk to 1/2 cup, omit chocolate chips and add 3/4 c. canned pumpkin and pumpkin seeds or sunflower seeds to batter.

Review: A Place to Call Home

A Place to Call Home by Deborah Smith

My rating: 5 of 5 stars



This book was a lovely, complex read. It is hard for me to find romance stories that I can actually get past the first couple of pages; for every one I pick up, I've put down ten others. Nevertheless, I really enjoy the good ones so I keep looking for those jewels among the dross. Deborah Smith's novel "A Place To Call Home" was everything I look for in this type of book: a rich, intelligently developed plot peopled with characters who are not only interesting but don't do ridiculous things merely for the sake of the dramatic outcome, as well as realistic and well-written dialogue, sub-plots, and side characters who are just as interesting as the main ones. Oh, and a believable connection between the romantic partners - you can easily understand and support why they are who they are and do what they do, without having to make that leap of faith so often necessary for most romantic reads just to be able to get to "the good parts."

It's just really wonderful to see who Roan and Claire became, and how they each brought the best in each other to the surface. Forgiveness and human connection are adeptly woven into the story which makes it all the more satisfying. I highly recommend this book.



View all my reviews

barefoot on the earth

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. --Desiderata


"It all seemed to good to be true.  Hither and thither he rambled busily, along the hedgerows, among the copses, finding everywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves thrusting --everything happy, progressive, and occupied. ...He thought his happiness was complete..."  --Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

In Romancing the Ordinary, Sarah ban Breathnach reminds us of the spiritual connection that may be made in the simple act of removing one's shoes and walking about with our feet "'in touch' with the sacred."  It shames me to admit I worry when my children run about barefoot because I worry too much about cuts and scrapes.  Naturally they ignore me; I'm glad, for as much as I adore shoes, I prefer the feel of my toes on the bare hardwood floors of my home and the coolness of the grass beneath them as I'm hanging out the laundry.

We never touch but at points.  --Emerson 

Physical touch literally reconnects us with what matters.  When we are feeling scattered and stretched too thin, finding something tactile beneath our feet is calming and helps us to find our ground, so to speak.  Remove your shoes and whether inside or out, and walk about your Universe, so that your soul learns not to fear its weakness, by grasping the strength to be found in the Sphere:  small, humble, silent affirmations that touch you.

Book Review: Trapped in the Mirror, by Elan Golomb, PhD

Trapped in the Mirror by Elan Golomb

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

An excellent treatise on the influence of narcissistic individuals in those for whom abuse and negativity feels more like normal behavior than dysfunction. The author is a well-educated clinical psychologist who herself is the child of two narcissistic parents.

Adeptly weaving her experiences with those of her friends, patients, and other individuals, she helps us to recognize the thought patterns and unintentional, automatic reactions to challenges that everyone faces, but with which adult children can struggle against depression, bulimia, fear, suicidal thoughts, and psychosis. The writer's style dips in and out of clinical assessment, stream-of-consciousness, and rational analysis, proving over and over again that there are many ways to deal confidently and successfully with people who try to control our thoughts and emotions, and because it presents this multi-faceted picture, is not only helpful, but interesting and engaging to read.

I recommend this highly for anyone dealing with unfortunate life patterns triggered by inability to recognize the influence of narcissistic individuals at work, at home, or in relationships.

View all my reviews

21 Things I Learned from Lorelai Gilmore

1. There are very few pains that cannot be cured with a liberal application of Rocky Road ice cream, eyeliner, and martinis.
2. You can run from your troubles, but eventually you’ll run back. Otherwise you’ll never get over them.
3. Laughter is the best medicine.
4. Real love never ends.
5. Good things only get better. Sometimes this happens when you’re not looking.
6. Celebrate birthdays, weddings, and the life of your neighbor’s cat with the same warmth and enthusiasm.
7. The first snowfall of the season is a living, breathing, sacred thing. No matter when it happens, go outside and greet it with effusive joy.
8. Your first duty is to your children. Everything else can wait.
9. Even weirdo freaks have souls.
10. Coffee is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. Beer runs a close second. Sorry, Ben.
11. Say you’re sorry as soon as you can, and mean it.
12. Wait. Time heals all wounds.
13. Show up. Look smashing.
14. Be yourself. No one else can pull it off.
15. Appreciate everyone, including obnoxious picky French men, gossipy busybodies, aging drama queens, control freaks with bad toupees, and grouchy hermits. If nothing else they keep life interesting and amusing, and sometimes they are exactly the right person for something very special.
16. Never underestimate the inexpressible importance of the perfect shoes, scarves, and handbags. Also, Hello Kitty. Pink sweaters with ruffles and flowers. Black mini skirts. Tulle. Skinny jeans. And pearls.
17. Movie nights are for eating, philosophy and social commentary. In that order.
18. Your first love will always be special. Your first real love even more so.
19. There are a lot of amazing female role models. After you’ve followed their example for awhile, be one.
20. Take others much more seriously than you take yourself.
21. Read. Often, or not. There’s a lot to be learned from books. But if you don’t read, surround yourself with people who do. Some of that wisdom will rub off.

Humility and a Secure Future

Reading "God Never Blinks." Regina Brett has so much to offer to a world down on its luck, seemingly running out of time, with so much to worry about. With plans scattered like so many specks of dust to places invisible, it's much too easy to forget our basis for faith, and how to reach out and hold on to what has kept us going in the past. Taking one more step forward sometimes feels too damned hard, and hardly worth it. After all, why wake up to one more day of struggle? Isn't it better to just roll over and hit the snooze button? "Forget about life for awhile"?

Why yes, actually. Sometimes that's exactly what we should do.



Life of Agony reminds us exactly what it's like to be worn out and in dire need of escape, maybe with a bit more of an edge than Billy Joel did, but the message is the same. Sometimes we do need to just get it all out in order to forget how bad it all is. And that's okay. But after that, there's something else that's the spiritual and emotional equivalent of clearing the air so we can breathe again.

It's called forgiveness.

Ms. Brett has a bumper sticker that says, "God Bless the Whole World. No Exceptions." She goes on to tell us "Forgive Everybody Everything." I can vouch for the goodness in that. There is nothing anyone's done to me that's worth the spiritual and emotional turmoil of holding a grudge. Nobody's worth eating up my liver over. Nobody gets to be that powerful over me and my life, and as far as I know, nobody really wants to be.

This is not to say nobody's mistreated me. Far from it. Like a lot of people, I'm one of the "walking wounded." But you know what? That just means I've learned a few things. It doesn't mean anyone owes me anything. That honor belongs to - you guessed it - just me.

For about five minutes, it does me good to get angry and rant and spout out all the venom and bile that some peoples' actions incite. But after that, it's good to just put all that away and move on, looking around to see the good things that are still surrounding my world and reminding me that it's never too late to put down that burden and step forward into the light. In fact, if I don't, it's just going to get heavier and heavier the longer I forget to do so.

"Forgiveness is giving up all hope of a better past. At first that sounds harsh, but once you let go of what you wanted the past to be, you can start changing the present and create a better future," Ms. Brett writes in Lesson 28. Well, duh. Why didn't I figure that out already? Sometimes we need people to point out the obvious, so we can clear the smudges from our eyes and actually see what we're looking at. You can't move beyond something, or stop being a victim, until you stop calling yourself a loser, and take back your own power over situations. Forgive, and then forget. Choose life, and remove yourself from that pain. Put it down. Let it go.

Here's a gem of real value, and I'm putting it here where I'll remember to come back and read it from time to time:

Humility is perpetual quietness of heart.
It is to have no trouble.
It is never to be fretted or vexed, irritable or sore; to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing done against me.
It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised, it is to have a blessed home in myself where I can go in and shut the door and kneel to my Father in secret and be at peace, as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and about is seeming trouble.
--Dr. Bob, co-founder of AA and the Twelve-Step Program

Well then. Today is my lucky day. Yours, too! Go out there and forgive somebody. And then treat yourself to a big slice of that pie called Life. There's very little you can do that will more strongly ensure control of your own destiny. And what's more secure than that?

Traveling Light

I find myself sick of traveling, frankly. All I want to do now is curl up with a book, stare outside, look at the window, ponder a bit. Listen to loved ones, think about what they've said, listen some more. This is a major change from past propensities, which was to pick up and go at the merest wisp of a suggestion. Travel meant going beyond the place that I was, seeing new things as much as re-connecting with old ones.

Reading this piece at Salon brought this home recently. This is a wonderful article, well-crafted and superbly worded, the author has the grasp of language that slips into your mind easily. The second-person point of view is difficult to do well, but she does it with single-minded aplomb, leaving no question of her genius. It is taken from a larger work, Stranger Things Happen: Stories, and when I saw this I stopped reading long enough to add to my "To Read" list at Goodreads. It was that good. She was speaking to me, I was sure, or at least someone who had shared my experiences - we were kindred and I followed her down the rabbit-hole with faith that was quite blind. I was expecting a swirling, satisfying finish, where all is right in the end.

Silly me.

As I wrote to my sister when I sent her the article, dear Ms. Link had it right at the outset, she took you along a steep, winding and bloody difficult path, but surely she stopped just short of where the journey really reached its final destination. She knows the fairy-tale path so well! How could she have missed the whole point?

Read the article, mind you, before you travel further, or you're not going to believe me. You'll think I'm making this all up. And read this interview with Kelly Link by Laura Miller, Romance and Other Myths, which is right as rain throughout except for those needling little thrusts both of them make at the insanity that is "true love." Ms. Link and I share some similarities, we have both lived a "peripatetic life," but for pity's sake at some point we all have to settle down sometime. Maybe it's just the propensity of some people to joust at windmills, but it would be a sad world indeed for those of us who crave the warmth of quiet home fires to think that all this patient belief in love is all for naught. Phooey. Inside a voice whispers, "She missed the point."

Yet I still want to read her work, if only just for the repeated satisfaction of re-discovering that this belief in love is really just belief in myself. She's right, of course - the too-hard, misbegotten journey where you press on until your feet are cut to ribbons from all the miss-steps you've made is a bit much. When you get to the end of that trial how do you even know you're there? You're too busy picking glass out of your feet and re-applying eyeliner, wetting your lips, rehearsing what you're going to say so he doesn't get the wrong idea, and trying to remember where you left the keys. It's all drama at that point, and who has the energy for that?

So you clear the air and start over. Throw out the dirty dishes, add to the archaeological treasures in the backyard. Sweep up the shards from the broken mirror, apologize. Let a brief, beautiful memory or a shared glance make you smile. Back up, turn the wheel. Don't go down that path. Refresh your mind in shared laughter, challenge yourself to swallow pride over what was lost through ridiculous circumstances and look how simple things become once you've forgiven him. Forgiven yourself for being so blind and wicked.

There are two, no three, other fictional heroines, very different and yet similar enough to make the comparison in this instance, because their epiphanies are more - shall we say, agreeable. Theirs are stories I can relate to, be satisfied with, because these women and men forgave, and forgot, and in so doing reaped the benefits of what I believe is a more fulfilled existence, because it is shared. I don't have words to say just why this is, but it's true. No man is an island. No woman, either. Jane went back to Rochester. Elizabeth married Darcy. Luke and Lorelai figured it out in spite of everything. I know of a few real-life couples who did this, too. Sara and Richard. Gwen and Gavin. Joan and Robin, whose story in An Unfinished Marriage is remarkably simple, which makes it all the more interesting and applicable.

Truce. Because every day with your partner is practice for how you'll succeed in the real world, and how you treat those closest to you mirrors how you treat yourself.

Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not keep a record of wrongs. Love never ends. Faith, hope, and love - these three, but the greatest of these is Love.

Open House, by Elizabeth Berg

Open House by Elizabeth Berg
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I liked it. I felt brave for picking it up, bringing it home, because my husband had just told me he wanted a divorce, and the central character of the book is going through a similarly served entree, and I just felt like I wanted to see what it would be like when someone you really love leaves you. Live it vicariously, see if I was brave enough. Because I was seriously considering jumping off a bridge, and I wanted to see how someone might go through it and actually come out on the other side.Mind you, if hubby hadn't said it, I probably would not have picked up this book. But he did, and I felt woefully unarmed, unable, unwilling to go through all that. So I read the book.I loved the characters, with all their flaws that are not too cliche, too predictable. I love that she made some difficult decisions, fell flat on her face, picked herself up again, tried harder.I love that the person she falls in love with about 3/4 of the way through this book is not perfect.I love that she refuses to be alone as much as possible, by renting her home to a wonderful diversity of human beings, and that when she must be alone, she cries and lives through it. I needed that grounding, that soulful peace.This book is probably not for everyone. This weekend, my husband said he was sorry, that he took it back - and it wasn't too late; I only lived for five days with this grief and worry.Long enough to read this book, and to know that it is not a human failing to want more. And that life is a river, that we all want the same things: to be wanted, to reflect on things and find understanding in another person.

View all my reviews