I covered a sheriff's department meeting for work at 8 a.m. and wrote it up, then headed to the middle of the state for a weekend of relaxation. I had a grand vision of spending all of Saturday reading, maybe watching something on TV, and generally having nothing to worry about and nowhere to be. Friday night would be the opening gala for the Celebration of Seagrove Potters.
But first, I wanted to see a bookbinding exhibit at UNC-Greensboro. I called my friend Sims, who lives somewhat near there, after seeing a sign that I always see that said "Sims Pottery." Sims' first name is Margaret, and she hates it. Her middle name is Sims. So I called to see if she wanted to see this exhibit with me and have a cone at the Yum-Yum. Alas, she was at work, but she invited me to see Harry Potter with her on Saturday or have dinner. I squirmed at losing my grand vision of relaxation, but it's not every day that you get to see Philip and Sims (or anyone like them!), so we said we'd talk later.
The bookbinding exhibit was neat, but it was a much smaller deal than I thought it was. It was in a room where people were working, and it was sort of like, "Oh, that, yeah, that's over there." And they were all leather-bound for posterity, not handmade in the way I had expected. I was glad I went. Then I had my child-sized Yum-Yum cone, which was the perfect amount, and got on the road to the storied house on Badin Lake.
Mom had just gotten there and was turning on the water. I helped her unload some slate she'd bought at the slate mine on her way there, and then I swept the leaves off the dock and we talked about law enforcement and how I feel much more tender-hearted toward them and thankful for them than I did before starting at this job. Not that I was like, "cops suck," but I took a rather cynical view before.
We got to Luck's bean cannery for the gala (I love that word), and there were fewer cars in the parking lot, and the music inside was too loud at first. Someone told me later that the parking was freer because they hadn't let potters park there this time, which made me feel better because I was worried there were fewer folks. Mom bought a batter bowl by Vernon Owens and some tiny vases by Michael Mahan and probably some other things. I saw a lot that I liked but nothing I needed, and I was perfectly content to just soak up the beauty. I lined up a jeweler, Jennie Lorette Keats of JLK Jewelry, to make my wedding ring. Now just to nail down every other aspect of my wedding, including the dude....
We came back tired and happy and made tea and slept til 10 the next morning. We listened to Car Talk and Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me, then went for a walk and came back and had frozen pizzas for lunch. I read for a bit and then left to meet Sims and Philip in Asheboro, which was about 40 minutes for me and an hour for them. Clearly we were not as close as we thought. We talked about almost nothing but Harry Potter as they debriefed themselves from the latest film. The restaurant was Sagebrush, which was neat because they served the water in mason jars and gave you a bucket of peanuts as an appetizer. My food wasn't very good, but I was happy to be with them. We walked across the parking lot to the mall and got a dessert at the Books-a-Million cafe, which was surprisingly good. Then we walked around the mall a bit, going in the pet store and the toy store, and said goodnight. A very good time with very good friends.
Sunday broke my expectations in every way, most of it unpleasant. I meant to leave at 9 and got on the road at 10. I wanted to be back in time to have Zaxby's before Disciple because it was having a fundraiser for one of our ministries, but I had to go straight to church. I wanted to spend the afternoon reading there before youth group, but it there was a youth activity I didn't know about and a meeting I didn't know about, so I took part in those instead. Youth group was good and did not mess up my expectations for it. Then I thought we were going to have our not-small-group-anymore-just-hanging-out meeting at someone's house, but they had decided to go out to eat, which I did not have the money for and didn't want to do. So I was very grumpy for the start of that, and I think they could tell, but once I had resigned myself to sitting and watching them eat, I was happy to be with my friends. Until Lyndsay said she's moving to Colorado, but we agreed not to talk about that anymore beyond the basic announcement. 48 hours later, I have not let it sink in, nor do I want to. All I can say just now is, Colorado, you're in for a treat.
When I got home, hoping to sleep in the next morning, I had an email asking me to cover something at 9 a.m., meaning I had to leave the house at 7:30. God was definitely telling me to kiss expectations goodbye. Or it was just a kind of sucky day. Probably a bit of both. But the question is, without expectations, why do anything? And where's the line between healthy expectations that help you plan things, whether it's an evening or a life, and harmful ones that set you up for disappointment? I'm still smarting a little from the relentlessness of that day and trying to process what role expectations should play in life.
The next and final installment in the Weekend Bonanza series is, of course, Thanksgiving! My expectations are already high and fully formed. ;)
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Weekend Bonanza, part 4: Pilgrimage
Friday morning, I was going to pick up police reports (I realize this is the third mention of them in as many posts on this blog, but please don't think they're taking over my life. It's just that I do them at the end of the week, and the posts are always about the weekends) and I saw a car in front of me go off the road, like way off the road. I wasn't sure anyone else had seen it, so I stopped on the shoulder, grabbed my AAA card and phone, and stepped gingerly toward the ditch. The driver, still inside, asked how bad it was. Not very. The bumper was pretty much falling off, but it looked like it would still be very much driveable. The driver, a woman my age or younger, got out and tried to push the car out of the ditch, then decided to have it towed. She told me she'd been working 80-hour weeks in Jacksonville at a tattoo shop, living in Wilmington and driving back and forth, and she'd fallen asleep at the wheel. Poor thing. I told her not to work 80 hours anymore. She was physically unhurt and wasn't even crying. Five other people stopped, but the situation seemed pretty much under control. The woman had called her mom, who was looking up towing options, and there didn't seem to be much else we could do. I asked if her phone was fully charged, which it was, and she hugged me, and I went on.
The point of that story was, that's plenty of excitement for me in one day. On my way back, I got a call from my roommate, who was freaking out about something out of our control, and that added a lot to the day's excitement quota. We've dealt with it now, but it made me late for leaving for Pilgrimage, a conference-wide Methodist youth event in Fayetteville. Luckily I was only late by a few minutes. I jumped in the van with Jared (associate pastor) and three guys and tenth-grade girls, and we were off.
I couldn't have asked for a better van of folks for the weekend! They were always in the vehicle on time and never short on entertaining observations, and Jared is so dear and insightful, to the point that many of his questions and statements make me mad with their unnecessary insightfulness. I had a great time with those kids all weekend.
The speaker was Bart Campolo, Tony Campolo's son. He was very entertaining and thought-provoking, for the kids and for the adult leaders. He talked about loving people like Jesus loves, something we all need to hear.
Last year, they had some hip young pastors talk about their calling for a few minutes and say you could go to one of the tables if you might be called or interested in ministry. I remember it from last year because I wanted them to be quiet and let me go on my merry way. I was actually very curious, even semi-anxious, about whether they'd have something like that this year. Of course, they did, on Saturday morning. Different individuals, same setup. They told you to go to the Board of Ordained Ministry table to pursue those ideas of ministry, etc.
So I went to the Board of Ordained Ministry table, and I ended up talking to the guy who took Jared's place at his last church when Jared came to Pine Valley. So we talk a little about seminary and ministry and calling, and I cry a little and we pray and I cry more, and I don't remember a lot of the conversation but I do remember that Nathan said, "Just from talking to you right now, I think you're called."
Whoa. "Okay, thank you."
On the way back to my seat, I felt every possible emotion about that statement. It was the most clear-cut thing anyone had told me about the possibility of a call to ministry for me, which I've been exploring for a long time. I can resent it, enjoy it, be flattered, get excited, remain confused, go wide-eyed and dry-mouthed with fear, abhor the thought of so much change at once, or any number of other options. For a few minutes, I even rationalized it away with the idea that he probably says that to everyone, or thought I wanted to hear it, or had some reason other than truth for saying such a lovely and brutal thing. But the one thing I can't do is ignore it. You don't get a gift like that every day.
So I sort of dream-walked my way through the rest of the weekend as I processed that and cared for kids and kept things going. And I'm still dream-walking a bit. Still very confused about timing and specifics. But I know now that I am going to seminary someday, and I am leading God's people someday, and I'm not going to feel this tension between career and personal life someday, and someday I'm going to see how my little jigsaw-puzzle life fits together and how it joins at the edges with everyone else's, and I'm going to continue to know without a doubt, like I know now, that I'm in the right place, doing the right thing, following where God leads, letting the questions be questions and enjoying the rest while it lasts.
The point of that story was, that's plenty of excitement for me in one day. On my way back, I got a call from my roommate, who was freaking out about something out of our control, and that added a lot to the day's excitement quota. We've dealt with it now, but it made me late for leaving for Pilgrimage, a conference-wide Methodist youth event in Fayetteville. Luckily I was only late by a few minutes. I jumped in the van with Jared (associate pastor) and three guys and tenth-grade girls, and we were off.
I couldn't have asked for a better van of folks for the weekend! They were always in the vehicle on time and never short on entertaining observations, and Jared is so dear and insightful, to the point that many of his questions and statements make me mad with their unnecessary insightfulness. I had a great time with those kids all weekend.
The speaker was Bart Campolo, Tony Campolo's son. He was very entertaining and thought-provoking, for the kids and for the adult leaders. He talked about loving people like Jesus loves, something we all need to hear.
Last year, they had some hip young pastors talk about their calling for a few minutes and say you could go to one of the tables if you might be called or interested in ministry. I remember it from last year because I wanted them to be quiet and let me go on my merry way. I was actually very curious, even semi-anxious, about whether they'd have something like that this year. Of course, they did, on Saturday morning. Different individuals, same setup. They told you to go to the Board of Ordained Ministry table to pursue those ideas of ministry, etc.
So I went to the Board of Ordained Ministry table, and I ended up talking to the guy who took Jared's place at his last church when Jared came to Pine Valley. So we talk a little about seminary and ministry and calling, and I cry a little and we pray and I cry more, and I don't remember a lot of the conversation but I do remember that Nathan said, "Just from talking to you right now, I think you're called."
Whoa. "Okay, thank you."
On the way back to my seat, I felt every possible emotion about that statement. It was the most clear-cut thing anyone had told me about the possibility of a call to ministry for me, which I've been exploring for a long time. I can resent it, enjoy it, be flattered, get excited, remain confused, go wide-eyed and dry-mouthed with fear, abhor the thought of so much change at once, or any number of other options. For a few minutes, I even rationalized it away with the idea that he probably says that to everyone, or thought I wanted to hear it, or had some reason other than truth for saying such a lovely and brutal thing. But the one thing I can't do is ignore it. You don't get a gift like that every day.
So I sort of dream-walked my way through the rest of the weekend as I processed that and cared for kids and kept things going. And I'm still dream-walking a bit. Still very confused about timing and specifics. But I know now that I am going to seminary someday, and I am leading God's people someday, and I'm not going to feel this tension between career and personal life someday, and someday I'm going to see how my little jigsaw-puzzle life fits together and how it joins at the edges with everyone else's, and I'm going to continue to know without a doubt, like I know now, that I'm in the right place, doing the right thing, following where God leads, letting the questions be questions and enjoying the rest while it lasts.
Weekend Bonanza, part 3: Asheville
I hustled on Monday through Wednesday to afford Thursday and Friday off (the 4th and 5th). Wednesday was especially jam-packed and fun because we went to the Little Dipper for fondue, then Dusty and Ace, then back to my house for a brief celebration of James Thurber and to enjoy his cake recipe. It was the first time I'd made a layer cake, and possibly the first time I'd made cake from scratch. It turned out very well! We also had some really good wine that Aunt Kim had given me. It was sparkling but red! Total pleasant shocker. I got to meet one of my friends' dad and grandmother, who were delightful. After everyone left, I worked on my articles until later than I'd like to admit.
Thursday morning, I stopped in Beulaville on the way out to take a few pictures, then I was on my way to the mountains! I hadn't really put two and two together and realized I was going to the mountains in the fall, which made the leaf colors all the more exciting. I met John at the pizza/brewing place and had a beer before dropping my car off at his house. It's an awesome house! Basically a large and inviting log cabin with plenty of room for everyone, including two dogs and two drum sets.
The percussion ensemble concert was fun, and they're very talented. We met up with a cousin and her wife for a late dinner, and almost everyone had pumpkin beer. John's girlfriend is delightful.
Friday morning, I went to Malaprop's (swoon) for a quick coffee and then we all went to Twelve Bones for lunch. Let me tell you about Twelve Bones. I had only had ribs at Medieval Times and at a home cookout, but now, now I understand what a rib is destined to be and why people want to eat them. 12 Bones has all sorts of sauces that remind me a bit of Flaming Amy's combinations, like blueberry chipotle and ginger something and you know, fruit + spicy. They had your basics too. On the side, I had jalapeno cheese grits and mac & cheese plus the standard cornbread. It was an outstanding meal.
I went back to Mom and Dad's house for the night to break up the trip. We watched the Thursday night shows while I typed up police reports. The next morning, we went to the Methodist church's fall bazaar for breakfast, and I saw some nice jewelry and they bought our holiday desserts to freeze. I left mid-morning and took some photos in Richlands for work on my way back. The weekend was a whirlwind but very much worth the trouble, and I was so glad to see my family as well as spend some time in Asheville. Every time I go there, I'm scheming to stay. Didn't come up with anything feasible this go-round, but I'll keep working on the plan.
Thursday morning, I stopped in Beulaville on the way out to take a few pictures, then I was on my way to the mountains! I hadn't really put two and two together and realized I was going to the mountains in the fall, which made the leaf colors all the more exciting. I met John at the pizza/brewing place and had a beer before dropping my car off at his house. It's an awesome house! Basically a large and inviting log cabin with plenty of room for everyone, including two dogs and two drum sets.
The percussion ensemble concert was fun, and they're very talented. We met up with a cousin and her wife for a late dinner, and almost everyone had pumpkin beer. John's girlfriend is delightful.
Friday morning, I went to Malaprop's (swoon) for a quick coffee and then we all went to Twelve Bones for lunch. Let me tell you about Twelve Bones. I had only had ribs at Medieval Times and at a home cookout, but now, now I understand what a rib is destined to be and why people want to eat them. 12 Bones has all sorts of sauces that remind me a bit of Flaming Amy's combinations, like blueberry chipotle and ginger something and you know, fruit + spicy. They had your basics too. On the side, I had jalapeno cheese grits and mac & cheese plus the standard cornbread. It was an outstanding meal.
I went back to Mom and Dad's house for the night to break up the trip. We watched the Thursday night shows while I typed up police reports. The next morning, we went to the Methodist church's fall bazaar for breakfast, and I saw some nice jewelry and they bought our holiday desserts to freeze. I left mid-morning and took some photos in Richlands for work on my way back. The weekend was a whirlwind but very much worth the trouble, and I was so glad to see my family as well as spend some time in Asheville. Every time I go there, I'm scheming to stay. Didn't come up with anything feasible this go-round, but I'll keep working on the plan.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Weekend Bonanza, part 2: Bible Study Training Workshop
I got home from a work meeting a little before (or after?) five on Friday and typed up an article and a police report real quick, then hopped over to Port City Community Church for a somewhat mysterious Bible study training workshop. It was Friday evening and all day Saturday. It turned out to be very fun and informative. A lot of work, but definitely the good kind. And it involved colored pencils! We learned how to observe, interpret, and apply the meaning of a biblical text.
First, we found out the hard facts of the book: who wrote it and for whom, why they wrote it, where it took place, when, etc. Then we went through and marked every instance of first-person pronouns or the author's name, and second-person pronouns or the recipient's name. (This was for a letter. I guess some of it would be different for history and other types of books.) Using those markings, we compiled lists of information about the author and the recipient, in this case Paul and Titus. So each time one of them was mentioned, we'd write down what it said about him. Pretty cool. We did the same thing later with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. We also used different colors to mark key words, time indicators, comparisons, contrasts, and more. The teacher was very enthusiastic, and the process is more fun than it sounds like. It was so different from the way I often read the Bible, which is much like the way I read other books but with more underlining. Reading with this new technique was like opening a jar with a rubber pancake thing to help you grip, while regular reading is like opening it with just your hands: it can be done either way, but one makes you feel stronger and gets the job done better. It is very time-consuming but very worth it.
So that's this weekend's bliss blitz installment. Up next: Asheville! Preceded by the Thurber bash and baking a cake which I don't think I've ever done from scratch, and Dusty & Ace and fondue and a whole lot of work in order to make Asheville happen. Bring it all on! I have a lot to look forward to.
First, we found out the hard facts of the book: who wrote it and for whom, why they wrote it, where it took place, when, etc. Then we went through and marked every instance of first-person pronouns or the author's name, and second-person pronouns or the recipient's name. (This was for a letter. I guess some of it would be different for history and other types of books.) Using those markings, we compiled lists of information about the author and the recipient, in this case Paul and Titus. So each time one of them was mentioned, we'd write down what it said about him. Pretty cool. We did the same thing later with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. We also used different colors to mark key words, time indicators, comparisons, contrasts, and more. The teacher was very enthusiastic, and the process is more fun than it sounds like. It was so different from the way I often read the Bible, which is much like the way I read other books but with more underlining. Reading with this new technique was like opening a jar with a rubber pancake thing to help you grip, while regular reading is like opening it with just your hands: it can be done either way, but one makes you feel stronger and gets the job done better. It is very time-consuming but very worth it.
So that's this weekend's bliss blitz installment. Up next: Asheville! Preceded by the Thurber bash and baking a cake which I don't think I've ever done from scratch, and Dusty & Ace and fondue and a whole lot of work in order to make Asheville happen. Bring it all on! I have a lot to look forward to.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Bonanza Blitz of Weekends, part 1: Lay Speaker Training
It was not at all what I expected. Perhaps in part because of my Creative Writing background (side note: I love using "background" in that way, perhaps in part because of my pretentious background), I thought I'd be gettin' with other wannabe preachers or confused folk who love God and read the same book I did that said do lay speaker training because it might help you discern some things. I thought we would make on-the-spot mini-sermons and get or give feedback on them, or maybe see some sample ones on video or read about them. Do's and don'ts of public speaking/preaching, combined with a workshop, is what I thought it was.
But no. It was more like a rundown of Methodists vs. the world, not a combative "vs." but one that points out how we, in our stated-and-written-down beliefs, are different from, say, Presbyterians, which made me none too comfortable, and surprise, made nothing any iota clearer. It was very educational and pretty fun. I met some cool people. But I did not learn anything about speaking or preaching. They ought to re-title it "Being a Good Methodist Training."
I must tell you that I did advanced lay speaker training without having taken Basic, which everyone said was OK even without my asking them, probably because they could tell from my voice on the phone that I'm way too smart for Basic. That may have had something to do with my off-the-mark expectations; like, for instance, maybe basic lay speaker training covers some of the things I thought I'd learn. But we won't know that 'til the spring, if ever.
Nothing is OK with me lately. Too much is changing at once, and everyone else seems all but oblivious to it. Our small group is "ending," as one member so bluntly put it. Too many people are moving away, or getting ready to, or hoping to. Having roommates stresses me out, and my job is as bad as ever. I'm helplessly watching yet another once-hopeful romantic prospect fizzle and die. Basically, I can't name one part of my life that's not in flux, and it ain't no eustress either. I can handle some pain if I learn from it, but I don't feel like I'm learning. I can handle change in one or two sectors at a time, but I feel like I'm playing the least fun game of Whack-a-Mole ever. You get one crisis taken care of (or at least learn to live with it), and another comes up. You plug a hole in the stern, and another leak springs in the bow, and another, and another, and they're coming faster. Those games, they start out slow, but that's just a mean and deceptive trick. You always lose.
I know the right answer is to give the game over to God, or trade in your boat for his, whichever metaphor we're going with. But I'm so attached to my way of doing it, and I don't know enough about his way or what to expect. I'm pretty sure nothing is going to get better until I trust him enough to hand over something, anything. But that feels really far away. So here I am, going down with the boat, but isn't it a beauty? And I get to be the captain.
But no. It was more like a rundown of Methodists vs. the world, not a combative "vs." but one that points out how we, in our stated-and-written-down beliefs, are different from, say, Presbyterians, which made me none too comfortable, and surprise, made nothing any iota clearer. It was very educational and pretty fun. I met some cool people. But I did not learn anything about speaking or preaching. They ought to re-title it "Being a Good Methodist Training."
I must tell you that I did advanced lay speaker training without having taken Basic, which everyone said was OK even without my asking them, probably because they could tell from my voice on the phone that I'm way too smart for Basic. That may have had something to do with my off-the-mark expectations; like, for instance, maybe basic lay speaker training covers some of the things I thought I'd learn. But we won't know that 'til the spring, if ever.
Nothing is OK with me lately. Too much is changing at once, and everyone else seems all but oblivious to it. Our small group is "ending," as one member so bluntly put it. Too many people are moving away, or getting ready to, or hoping to. Having roommates stresses me out, and my job is as bad as ever. I'm helplessly watching yet another once-hopeful romantic prospect fizzle and die. Basically, I can't name one part of my life that's not in flux, and it ain't no eustress either. I can handle some pain if I learn from it, but I don't feel like I'm learning. I can handle change in one or two sectors at a time, but I feel like I'm playing the least fun game of Whack-a-Mole ever. You get one crisis taken care of (or at least learn to live with it), and another comes up. You plug a hole in the stern, and another leak springs in the bow, and another, and another, and they're coming faster. Those games, they start out slow, but that's just a mean and deceptive trick. You always lose.
I know the right answer is to give the game over to God, or trade in your boat for his, whichever metaphor we're going with. But I'm so attached to my way of doing it, and I don't know enough about his way or what to expect. I'm pretty sure nothing is going to get better until I trust him enough to hand over something, anything. But that feels really far away. So here I am, going down with the boat, but isn't it a beauty? And I get to be the captain.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Bliss Blitz
The next six consecutive weekends are going to be filled with the best kind of busyness: travel, holidays, learning, and general breaking-of-routine. At first I was reluctant to fill in the last couple of spots, but then I thought, no way. These are all things I want to do, and as my new-mom friend Stacey pointed out, I may not be able to act this way if I ever have a kid, or even just a different kind of job.
Let's take a look:
October 23 (Saturday): Lay speaker training for the United Methodist Church district
October 29 and 30 (Saturday and Sunday): Bible study training workshop through Port City Community Church
November 4 (Thursday, but I will do my utmost to stay all weekend): my brother's percussion ensemble concert in Asheville. Both of my parents will be there, and I was just reminded that a cousin is in Asheville, too! This one depends on my ability to get all of my stories written by Wednesday so I can check out on Thursday morning. I am feeling not certain but very hopeful.
November 12-14 (Friday-Sunday): Pilgrimage with PVUMC youth
November 19-21 (Friday-Sunday): Celebration of Seagrove Potters
November 25 (Thursday, but again it will be a weekend-long affair): Thanksgiving
And that's just the weekends! I am also going to see Banksy's first movie, a Halloween puppet show at the art museum featuring a story from Ecotone, Dusty and Ace AKA Philip and Clyde, fondue, Writers' Week, my James Thurber party, a thesis reading by Erin Sroka and Laurin Penland, a reading by John Sullivan, and who knows what else is going to come up during that time! Sometimes it frustrates me that all the fun seems to happen at once. Then when it's going on, I sure don't mind.
And ideally, this will give my blog somethin' to talk about. So stay tuned to see just how blissfully exhausted I get, and how much I learn, and how much I enjoy my six-week powerhouse of fun.
Let's take a look:
October 23 (Saturday): Lay speaker training for the United Methodist Church district
October 29 and 30 (Saturday and Sunday): Bible study training workshop through Port City Community Church
November 4 (Thursday, but I will do my utmost to stay all weekend): my brother's percussion ensemble concert in Asheville. Both of my parents will be there, and I was just reminded that a cousin is in Asheville, too! This one depends on my ability to get all of my stories written by Wednesday so I can check out on Thursday morning. I am feeling not certain but very hopeful.
November 12-14 (Friday-Sunday): Pilgrimage with PVUMC youth
November 19-21 (Friday-Sunday): Celebration of Seagrove Potters
November 25 (Thursday, but again it will be a weekend-long affair): Thanksgiving
And that's just the weekends! I am also going to see Banksy's first movie, a Halloween puppet show at the art museum featuring a story from Ecotone, Dusty and Ace AKA Philip and Clyde, fondue, Writers' Week, my James Thurber party, a thesis reading by Erin Sroka and Laurin Penland, a reading by John Sullivan, and who knows what else is going to come up during that time! Sometimes it frustrates me that all the fun seems to happen at once. Then when it's going on, I sure don't mind.
And ideally, this will give my blog somethin' to talk about. So stay tuned to see just how blissfully exhausted I get, and how much I learn, and how much I enjoy my six-week powerhouse of fun.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
My favorite?
I hesitate to use the word "favorite" in most circumstances, or else I water it down and change the literal meaning so that all I'm saying is I like whatever it is. When asked my favorite color, I say, "It depends on what's being colored." A wall favorite color is different from my car favorite color or a shirt favorite color. Same with food, movies, music; it all depends on my mood and the situation.
But I think I have a favorite writer. Reading James Thurber feels like sleeping in one's own bed, the smell of one's own home, something that sets things right, something comfortable but not in a complacent way. I feel so fully "me" when I'm reading him. I cannot put my finger on why.
We had a dry spell for a while, but a few days ago I started reading People Have More Fun than Anybody, a book of never-before-collected items to celebrate 100 years since Jim's birth (published in 1994). There's a cake recipe from him in it, which to me cries out for a party. And thus it is. I'm celebrating his birthday early because it's in December and no one wants an extra party then. Making the cake and giving everyone a chance to read their favorite things by him. I haven't had a party in a long time!
This particular book is all items that would otherwise be pretty much lost, things from magazines or papers that hadn't been put in book form ever before. And that may be why I'm so impressed: he wrote these things as little ephemera to make extra bucks, not to be literarily lasting or meaningful, but oh how he is! It's like if someone collected the articles I'm writing in 84 years, and they stood the test of time. One thing Michael J. Rosen's introduction points out is Thurber's ability to refer to his time--fads, celebrities we don't know about anymore, sundry pop culture items--and still be relevant today. He mentions these things, and they're confusing briefly or require an editor's note to explain them, but the way he talks about them and the things he says are still enjoyable to read. Basically, we don't have to know what he's talking about to get what he's talking about. That's pretty amazing to me.
Also, I may have known his eyesight failed as he aged, and I certainly knew he did sweet cartoons, but I never put the two together. Apparently he was drawing in the dark some of the time, which is not hard to believe when you look at the drawings but is nonetheless impressive. Oh, and Matisse called him the best artist in New York.
But I think I have a favorite writer. Reading James Thurber feels like sleeping in one's own bed, the smell of one's own home, something that sets things right, something comfortable but not in a complacent way. I feel so fully "me" when I'm reading him. I cannot put my finger on why.
We had a dry spell for a while, but a few days ago I started reading People Have More Fun than Anybody, a book of never-before-collected items to celebrate 100 years since Jim's birth (published in 1994). There's a cake recipe from him in it, which to me cries out for a party. And thus it is. I'm celebrating his birthday early because it's in December and no one wants an extra party then. Making the cake and giving everyone a chance to read their favorite things by him. I haven't had a party in a long time!
This particular book is all items that would otherwise be pretty much lost, things from magazines or papers that hadn't been put in book form ever before. And that may be why I'm so impressed: he wrote these things as little ephemera to make extra bucks, not to be literarily lasting or meaningful, but oh how he is! It's like if someone collected the articles I'm writing in 84 years, and they stood the test of time. One thing Michael J. Rosen's introduction points out is Thurber's ability to refer to his time--fads, celebrities we don't know about anymore, sundry pop culture items--and still be relevant today. He mentions these things, and they're confusing briefly or require an editor's note to explain them, but the way he talks about them and the things he says are still enjoyable to read. Basically, we don't have to know what he's talking about to get what he's talking about. That's pretty amazing to me.
Also, I may have known his eyesight failed as he aged, and I certainly knew he did sweet cartoons, but I never put the two together. Apparently he was drawing in the dark some of the time, which is not hard to believe when you look at the drawings but is nonetheless impressive. Oh, and Matisse called him the best artist in New York.
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