We last wrote about seeing the this year’s first day of school from two different perspectives, that of a mom sending her middle schooler back to the classroom after summer break and  from the other side of the desk, so to speak, that of a college professor heading back into the classroom after a “gap year.”

On the surface, these two scenarios may seem very different, but are they really?  We share excitement about what a new school year brings.  We share anxiety about school safety.  We share the lack of readiness for the disciplined schedule that the school year brings.  The truth is that when we truly stop and listen and look from another’s person’s place in life, we realize that our commonalities often outweigh our differences.  And in the places where those differences prevail, civil discourse may not change ideas and attitudes, but it does have the potential to cultivate a bit of empathy and understanding.  The downfall of humanity comes when we totally lack the ability or the willingness to imagine what it is like to walk in the shoes of another human being. 

If you have never experienced a school lockdown situation, either real or simulated, can you put yourself in the place of a teacher responsible for the safety of a classroom full of students? Or, see yourself as an eight year old huddled in the dark corner of a classroom  terrified that they will never see mommy and daddy again?  Or, in the trembling body of a parent wondering if their child’s classroom is “the one.”  If one has even a tiny empathetic bone in their body, the fact that many support gun control in this country should be evident.

If you have never worried about where you will find your next meal or lay your head at night, consider yourself fortunate.  Think about how different your life would be if these things were daily concerns for you.  For more people than most are aware, this is real life.

A favorite book of ours is The Magic Finger by Roald Dahl.  In this story, when a little girl gets angry, her finger starts to tingle and turns red.  When she points it at the source of her anger, magic starts to happen.  There is certainly much room for misuse of “power” in this scenario, but Dahl does not take the story in that direction.  Rather, he teaches empathy by using the little girl’s magic finger to literally put characters in the shoes, or webbed feet, of others.

The little girl first uses her magic finger to turn her teacher into a cat after the teacher calls the girl stupid for misspelling the word cat.  With a pointing of the tingling red magic finger, right in front of the eyes of an entire class, the teacher begins to grow whiskers, ears, and a bushy cat tail.  Suddenly, this educator receives a firsthand lesson on what it feels like to be laughed at by an entire room of students.

In the second incident in The Magic Finger, the little girl is upset by the doings of the family next door.  A father and his two sons are avid hunters.  After seeing them come home with ducks and a deer that they had shot, she is filled with anger and points her magic finger at them.  The entire family of four, even the mom who was not a hunter, wakes up the next day to discover that not only have they shrunk, but their arms have been replaced by wings.  And four ducks, who had circled them the day before as they returned from their hunting expedition, were now giants.

At first the children and parents were excited by the fact that they could fly.  While the family was out soaring in the sky, the large ducks took over the their home and the family of four now found themselves homeless.  They quickly realized that they needed to build a nest.  After working hard gathering sticks, leaves, and feathers for a cozy “home” at the top of a tree, wind and rain came and the family experienced firsthand how scary it is to live outside in the elements.  They also discovered how difficult it is to find food and eat with no hands.  As if all of this wasn’t bad enough, the next morning they awoke to see the four giant ducks on the ground below their nest, three of them pointing shotguns directly up at them.  The mom cried down, “You can’t shoot my children!”  The giant mama duck responded with, “Why not?  Your family shot six of mine yesterday.”  With that, the father started bargaining with the ducks, begging them not to shoot and promising never again to hunt.  His word was good enough for the larger-than-life ducks.  The family came down from the tree, grew back to their normal size, their wings disappearing and arms returning to normal.  The giant ducks also shrunk to normal duck size and returned to their familiar home back in nature.  Not only did the human family destroy their guns, they also changed their last name from The Gregg family to the Egg family to show respect for and solidarity with the ducks.

On the surface, The Magic Finger may be seem to be about guns, but it is about so much more.  It’s about putting yourself in someone else’s shoes, or nest.  It’s about seeing and feeling life from a different perspective.  It’s about doing unto others as you would have them do unto you.  It is about empathy.  What would the world be like if people had to walk in the shoes of others, even if for only a short time, experiencing all that comes with being in that place?  

Idealistic thinking likes to believe that our world would become a more understanding, compassionate, empathetic, and loving place.  Since none of us can put a magic finger to the true test, we’ll just have to put ourselves in the place of Roald Dahl’s character, see life from her perspective and wonder what living in her world, one where we each have a magic finger, might be like.

The turning point in the story of The Magic Finger is when the humans were forced to listen to the duck’s perspective.  Doing this changed them and changed life around and between them.  Thats what this world needs today.  Not totally conformity, just a little more compassion and understanding than we have right now.

Imagine yourself in someone else’s shoes.  What are their fears?  Their worries?  Their joys?  And most importantly, how are you changed by seeing from a different perspective?

It’s time for our back to school check in!

We all joke about that first back to school essay assignment…”What I did on my summer vacation.”  Ours would be better titled, “What we didn’t do…”  We didn’t blog. 🙂  We are making a commitment to doing better.  Here goes…

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What I love about these kinds of posts that Kris and I make, is the fact that it’s two sides of the same coin basically. One from a former student/current educator and one from a former student/current mom to a current school-age child. Both are about back to school, but from different perspectives. Different things to get ready for – one shops for herself and the other shops for her 13 yr old boy and so forth. Along with all of that, we talk about all the things, thoughts and feelings that come along with this time of year for each of us!

from Kris B.

August 22nd marked my 55th first day of school.  Though the details of each of those first days have been different, the energy that surrounds each new beginning is similar.

As a kid, I always loved school.  During my K-12 years, I only had a handful of teachers that perhaps had not made the best career choice.  The rest were pretty darn good.

My first grade teacher encouraged my love of writing stories and poems,  My fifth grade teacher was the first to introduce me to painting.  I still remember )and use) the sponge technique for painting rocky cliffs.  My seventh grade teacher, my first male teacher, was the one who helped me discover my interest in literature.  Then there was my high school French teacher who taught me well enough to surprise two guys with my French skills  as they tried to pick up a friend and me in a hotel elevator while visiting Quebec as a senior in high school.  She also taught me well enough to successfully navigate my way through a two week pilgrimage to France, never getting lost or eating food that I could not identify.  And it goes without saying that all of the band and orchestra directors that I had during my K-12 years influenced me in ways that can not be easily or succinctly described.

All that to say that I always looked forward to starting school, to learning something new, to doing my absolute best to meet new challenges head on and exceed expectations.  I worked hard, though often really didn’t need to except for in chemistry.  I had to work hard in that class, but maybe not as hard as the football coach who was my teacher.  Let’s just say that neither of us was in our element during chemistry class. 

My undergraduate years were the most formative years of my life.  I attended East Carolina University in Greenville, North Carolina on a music scholarship/. I thought I wanted to be a band director.  After one semester of music ed classes and two semesters with the most amazing music theory professor, I realized that music theory was my thing.  I also studied composition, but I am a music theorist down to my core.  My only regret about my time as an undergraduate is that I finished in three years, at age 20.  What does a 20 year old with a Bachelors degree in music theory do?  Go to graduate school!

I attended the University of North Texas studying music theory with an emphasis in computer assisted instruction.  That was back in the eighties when computer assisted instruction was intended to support classroom teaching, not replace face-to-face learning.   During this time, I was also a graduate teaching fellow with full responsibility for teaching freshman and sophomore music theory classes.  I was now a whopping 21 years old, had never taught, and had students older than I was, something that seemed very strange at the time.  All I knew about teaching was what had been modeled to me by all of the amazing teachers I mentioned above.  Fortunately, I was taking theory pedagogy during my first year as a teaching assistant.  To all the students I had during that year, I bet you felt like I did in that chemistry class.  Please accept my heartfelt apologies!  In case you are wondering, in the last forty years, I’ve gotten a lot better!  That first year of being both a student and a teacher simultaneously was also the first year I remember starting school filled with more anxiety than excitement.

After finishing my Masters degree, I continued as a graduate teaching assistant while I worked on my PhD.  I was then offered a job teaching music theory at Dallas County Community College District, the old “junior” college model.  I thought that would be a great stepping stone thing to do to get some “real life” experience to ready me for applying for a university position.  

Thirty years later, I am still in that same position.  Not because I “couldn’t get” another job.  Well, maybe I couldn’t, but I don’t know that because I have never applied for another job.  I discovered very quickly that I love this environment.  Many of my students are those that did not grow up with opportunity and privilege but have an amazing desire to learn and work hard to make their dreams come true.  Though my academic training was to become a “scholar,” I am truly a teacher.  (In my head there is a big difference between the two.)  When I am in the classroom, I feel like I am at my best.  So for thirty years, I have greeted each first day of school by giving thanks for the opportunity to be doing exactly what I want to be doing every single day.  And with every new first day of school I am overcome with gratitude for that first music theory professor that I had at East Carolina.  Despite many good professors throughout my years in graduate school, I always tell my students, “I am the teacher and person that I am because of Mr. Searl, my freshman music theory professor.  My hope for each of you is that you will find that one person who sees and nurtures the gifts that you hold inside and who helps you to become the very best that you can be.”

This year could have been my 56th first day of school, but last year I took what I am now calling a year off to practice retirement.  I’m not going to lie, moving to online teaching because of the pandemic was a big factor in that decision.  I love teaching in the classroom.  I despise teaching online.  Ironic being that I have that degree emphasis in computer assisted instruction.

I was asked to come back this semester in-person and part time, teaching only four classes.  With almost no hesitation, I said “yes.”  The tiny bit of reservation came not from anything to do with going back to actual teaching, but rather, as is the case for all teachers everywhere, from the conditions under which teachers teach and students are expected to learn in this country.

Because I was away from our campus for a full year, I did have to do some of the required onboarding training for new hires.  Before the first day of class I had to complete two mandatory training series.  One was on FERPA, policies assuring student rights to privacy.  Important.  And the second was Active Shooter Training.  Sadly, more important.  No training was immediately required about using our online grading platform and central location for student communication, both significantly updated in the last year.  Or on services for student success.  Or even the dreaded sexual harassment in the workplace videos.  

Because of this mandatory active shooter training and because I know that any day I could see the “this is not a drill” message come across my phone, I have to admit to a little anxiety each day when I walk onto campus.  And if the day comes when I don’t walk away from school at the end of the day, I want everyone to know that I was lucky enough to get to spend my whole life doing something that I love.

For now, on to week three, for me, of this semester giving my best every time I step in front of a room of students and hoping for the best for each of them.

from Tracey G.

Honestly, it feels like school just ended yesterday, and here we are starting all over again. This summer vacation seemed to disappear very quickly, and before I knew it, we’re back to the beginning again.

With every start to a school year for Harry, it brings back a lot of my memories of each grade for me. For example, I remember my first day of Kindergarten, I met one of my very best friends that day – I remember standing along the wall with our moms, and she and I getting into a giggle-fest, that was all she wrote-a lifelong friendship was born. I met and made quite a few of my good friends that year – but, that first day I will never forget.

This year, it’s just so hard to believe he’s starting 8th grade when I swear it was just yesterday he was starting Kindergarten! So the fact that he’s getting “up there” has seemed to shadow any other of my usual back-to-school musings!! It’s been a difficult year to get ready for as well, seems like he’s ever-growing and now is nose to nose with me, which hasn’t made clothes shopping very easy to be sure!! It was such a joy and a breeze when he was much younger, pretty straight forward actually, and he didn’t care much what I got him. Easy peasy. Of course, we’d hit a few weird phases where the old standbys didn’t fit right anymore and we had to find new etc. But this year has been much more of a challenge – he’s at another in-between phase, leaving it hectic and stressful to make sure he’s properly clothed (don’t even get m started on shoes) and he’s much more picky, but doesn’t want to put the time and effort in to making choices.

Getting back to routine in general has been a challenge as well. I am still not back into the 5:20 alarm routine at all. Not that I can say I ever really was able to get into that sort of routine, as I feel I’m a night-owl forced into being a morning person, but it’s felt particularly tough this past week. I usually have our mornings choreographed fairly well, alarms on my Apple Watch helping to make sure we’re doing what we should be doing at any given time in the morning to keep things moving along. This year school  times have been changed up a  bit so my usual alarms aren’t quite right yet, and it’s been kind of a circus these past few mornings around here! Harry and Jeremy laugh at me for doing this, but I’m not the sharpest in the morning, so I need those little nudges from my watch to remind me when it’s time to start bugging him that it’s time for us to hit the road so we don’t miss the bus! They may laugh, but I keep us moving forward with these little helpers.

Back to school also means back to a bed time – not just for Harry, but for me as well! That, needless to say, is a struggle for me even on a good day. I am just one who is loathe to go to sleep, I want to keep doing and keep going. But it is something I intend to work on more this year right from the start. I had made a good attempt last year during the last few weeks of school at a good nighttime routine. In bed at a certain time, read for x amount of time and then turn out the light and call it night. I want to be sure I get enough sleep and since I can’t change wake up time at all, the only thing I can change is bedtime. Here’s hoping I’m more successful at this than I have been lately, because it seems once summer vacation started, all bedtime routines went out the window!

As new as things feel now, it’s hard to believe that in just a few weeks it’ll be old hat, and feel like something that has always been there. Routine will set in – hopefully a good one because bad routines are so hard to fix lol, and before I know it will be summer vacation, again. And to be honest, I’m already missing the any-time dinner routine, any-time laundry routine and any-time bedtime routine that summer vacation brings along!!

But in the end, as much as I may complain, I do know that these school years are short and won’t last forever – so I am going to appreciate them no matter how tired and cranky I may be!

From Kris

To be content means that you are in a state of peaceful happiness.  Are you content?  Think about that question; you don’t have to answer right now.

Living in pandemic times has been an opportunity for us to think about what things really make us happy and bring us peace.  Many of us have chosen to give up travel, attending public events, and even family gatherings in an effort to do our part to keep ourselves and those around us safe and healthy.  That has meant that we are spending most of our time at home in our safe bubble.  That was a big change for me.

As it turns out, it was a change that brought me much contentment…admittedly, though, that took some time…and retirement!   

Right now I am grateful for the slowed pace of my life, a pace that affords me the opportunity to sleep a little later (and stay up a lot later) and enjoy multiple cups of coffee in the morning before getting dressed and officially starting my day.  Full disclosure:  “getting dressed” has taken on new meaning as well but that is a topic for another post! 

This slowness has encouraged me to pay careful attention to the rhythm of my days.  When am I hungry?  When do I get tired?  When is my most creative period?  When am I most energetic?  What things are most deserving of my time and energy?  What makes me feel whole?  Making the mental space to figure these things out is what has led to an overwhelming feeling of contentment.  In my opinion, this is the greatest gift that we can give to ourselves.

Does contentment mean that everything is perfect?  Nope.  Does it mean that some days are still a struggle?  You bet.  Does it mean that there are days I don’t have the mental or physical energy to do the things I need or want to do?  Most certainly.  Does it mean that there are changes that I’d like to see in my life?  Possibly.  

The thing about contentment is that at the end of the day when the moments of our lives are distilled down to the bottom line, we find ourselves resting in that state of “peaceful happiness.”

As Tracey and I have talked about our shared feelings of contentment, we have checked in with one another to make sure that we are not mistaking contentment for complacency or laziness.  Lol.

We may have been lazy (unwilling to use energy) when it came to writing blog posts.  This one has been in the works for a month.  We’ve talked about it…many times.  We just didn’t get it done.  That’s what happens when we are the boss of us. :-). Both being only children, our lives have always been shaped by the shoulds and ought-tos necessary to meet the expectations of others.  That has created in each of us an unhealthy dose of perfectionism.  Allowing ourselves the freedom to make our own rules definitely helps our mutual feelings of contentment.

The more healthy tendency of perfectionists is to not fall into the realm of complacency, a place that seems to carry with it a somewhat negative connotation.  Complacency assumes that one is perhaps smug or has an uncritical satisfaction with one’s place in life.  It is hard for perfectionists not to be critical of themselves; maybe contentment brings with it critical satisfaction.  In other words, right now, today, I am happy in this place, in my skin; but, I am open to changes, to adjustments, to shifts in perspective and perception that might better serve me tomorrow.

As for today, I am content.  

From Tracey

I concur that Kris and I have talked about this quite a few times and that’s how the idea for this post was born. It likely was a conversation about being home that started it. And it would have been something about being perfectly happy to be home, that we’ve got plenty to entertain ourselves with right where we were at! The concept of contentment definitely applies.

Maybe it was being an only child, who lived kind of isolated (until I had a driver’s license of course, lol) – by isolated I mean I was in more rural area, not on a block with lots of kids running around to play with just next door etc. – that taught me how to entertain myself to be content where I was at. My mom used to laugh that even if I had nothing to occupy my time with, I would *invent* something.

Kris is right, living in pandemic times really reinforced some things and some reflection on contentment. I’ve discovered I don’t miss shopping in stores one bit – I’m perfectly content with online shopping. I can get almost everything I need delivered right to my door – it saves me time (and money – I know my pocketbook is happier without the impulse buys that are inevitable when you’re in the store). Now granted, living where I do, I was already proficient at shopping online for things that weren’t readily available in my immediate vicinity, but I came to seriously rely on it in pandemic times. Maybe that’s another thing that helped me adapt, I was already set up for being at home more than the usual!

It’s also helped me realize just what makes me happy to have or do. Being home more than the norm allows a lot of time for me to figure out that I’m pretty simple in what makes me happy and content. I don’t need a lot of “things” – just particular things. So instead of randomness, I’ve been able to get down to more of exactly what I want. Yarn. Lots and lots of yarn makes me content. Cookie decorating supplies are a source of contentment – knowing I have what I need to what I’d want to do (even though I’ve been a serious slacker in the cookie decorating department the past couple years – I discovered that knitting has less calories and my “ingredients” don’t really have an expiration date). Creative outlets – and the supplies to create with – bring contentment for me. Are there things I’d still like to have? Yep, but they aren’t things that “I just gotta have to be happy”, if I get them, Yay! If not, that’s ok too. It was even more reinforced when I was trying to think of what I wanted for my birthday this year, and I couldn’t really think of anything, other than ways to feed my knitting obsession! 😀

As far as my person, there’s always room for improvement there – most of the time I’m content with me. But that doesn’t mean stagnant either – I’m always up for learning something new or improving myself somehow. Being content, in my opinion doesn’t mean completely standing still. I’m content in the process of betterment, improving my mind (currently teaching myself to crochet because I’d like some basic skills when I run across the occasional pattern that just has to be crochet, no knit alternative) and improving my body as best I can. The process alone brings a form of contentment because I know I’m doing good things for myself. The minor struggles now will pay off, and there’s a definite contentment in that notion!

I, like Kris, am content for today!

 

 

from Tracey

When I learned to knit, I started out with the mindset that I would buy yarn as needed, meaning for the current project I was working on or soon to be working on. And at that time, it was an easy thing to keep in check. I was new and I didn’t know much, so I wasn’t really looking ahead to any other projects, except the immediate ones. It was easy, I had one Rubbermaid plastic tub that fit the job of holding all of my yarn nicely.

Let’s flash-forward to almost 3 years later. Jeremy and I are doing a little more work in what we call The Room of Requirement (Harry Potter reference ?), which was my mom’s room when she was still alive and living with us, that has now become exactly that – The Room of Requirement. It’s a collaboration of all of our things, and things that have no home end up dumped in there. If you’ve ever watched the tv series “Friends”, Monica (the neat freak) has a secret closet – it’s an open-at-your-own-risk kind of thing, it’s where all the clutter ends up, etc. That’s kind of how our Room of Requirement has ended up. Well, now that Harry is getting older, he really wants his own space, instead of the room he currently has upstairs, which is more like a loft area that leads to our master bedroom. To get to my room, you have to go through his – worked great as a baby and toddler, even a young elementary kid – but not so much as an official middle schooler. We’ve decided it’s time to revamp The Room of Requirement to be what it now needs to be, Harry’s space.

So, my goal yesterday was to get all the yarn I’d been keeping in there moved up into my “new” closet space upstairs (we redid the flooring up there and revamped the closet spaces to be more usable). I didn’t count on Jeremy helping me and the upshot of that is that I am now banned from buying any more yarn until I use up a good portion of what I already own.

As I’ve grown in my knitting, more and more projects have become available to me – so I have more projects I want to make now in the queue, which translates to “I found a pattern that I really loved and immediately bought the yarn to make it” or “I bought a bunch of this yarn because it was on clearance, and I just know it’ll make a great sweater when I find the right pattern for it!” Not to mention, those projects seem to get put on hold, because for gifting projects I have to buy more yarn and my stash just sits. My one container of yarn has now grown into um, maybe 10? Give or take a tub or two… This all led to the hilarity that was yesterday’s project: me gathering and moving my yarn containers.

As I’m moving things around to get to my containers of yarn, Jeremy decided to come in and help. He finally got to see just how much yarn I have accumulated in the past 3 years, and it was hilarious. I was laughing so hard I had tears running down my face at his incredulity when seeing container after container of my Official Yarn Stash (henceforth known as OYS).

So, being the one who now needed to defend her OYS from undue criticism, I said “I haven’t bought yarn in ages, well um, aside from the yarn I purchased for the Christmas gifts, and the yarn I just bought recently for the sweater and the yarn for the throw blanket I’m making for myself… I’ve practiced restraint!” To which he replied with “But, you were JUST looking at yarn online not one hour ago!!” And I said, “oh yeah, but did I BUY any? Nope! So there!”

In relating this escapade to Kris later in the day, I also discussed that in all honesty, I too had just discovered just how much yarn I have! Oh, my goodness. I knew what I had, because the bulk of it has been bought for particular projects, but when you see it all together, in one area, it’s a little overwhelming. I had had it all over the place, some here, one container there and so forth. So, when it’s all put in one spot, it’s rather impressive, but also starts to look like a storage problem! I was in a mild panic that it wouldn’t fit where I swore up and down and on my life that it would fit. I can honestly say I wasn’t so sure anymore after seeing it in all it’s multi-container glory, but not that I’d EVER admit that! Nope. So, after some creative consolidation, (thank goodness yarn is squishy!) I made it all (well, almost all – I still have a couple of containers that won’t make it at this time) fit into my designated space. Yay me! Now I just have to get it organized better – like fibers with like fibers etc. But I’m going to let myself enjoy the fact I got almost of it put in one spot!

So, after all of this was accomplished, I was rather pleased. There is something pretty satisfying about knowing you can make almost anything you want to, when you want to because you have the supplies. And when you live in an area where the nearest yarn/craft store is 45 min away, it’s doubly nice to have! For me it’s akin to a well-stocked freezer and pantry – with a much longer expiration date! And it’s just plain fun to have it, it feels like one of the perks of being an Official Knitter. I’ve officially joined the club – I have a REAL stash! An OYS of my very own, it feels like a very important milestone in my knitting adventure! I now just need to stop storing it and start “making” it!!

 

From Kris

When Tracey started relating to me her story of having a serious yarn stash, all I could do was laugh, knowing the scenario way too well.  I also had to own up to the fact that I started her on this lifelong journey of collecting.  Learning to knit is an entry drug into the great big fiber world of colors, textures, possibilities, and imagination. Looking at it practically, however, its a much healthier addiction than alcohol or drugs…though in the long haul it may not be less expensive.

I have been knitting for thirty plus years.  To say that I have accumulated quite a yarn stash is a gross understatement.  Almost every closet in our house has at least some yarn hidden away in it, hence the reason we are currently having a craft room added,  one that has dedicated yarn storage.  In preparation for moving into this new space (this is premature thinking but it makes me happy), I have been cleaning out closets.  I came across a tub that I thought for sure was photo props from when Tracey and I were doing regular food blogs.  I knew it was stuff I didn’t use regularly, preferring to use my real, everyday kitchen items.  I decided that I would just toss the tub and its contents, no problem. Secretly I thought that getting rid of a tub of things I was no longer using would free up space for more yarn.  I opened the tub and…guess what…my wish was immediately granted.  It wasn’t photo props, it was yarn!!!

This got me thinking about how a OYS is built:

• It’s on such a good sale!
• What a pretty color.  I know I can do something with it.
• I better buy an extra ball, or three, so I’m sure that I have enough for this project.
• Friends know the best gift to give you.
• Tail ends of balls from finished projects accrue.  Yes!  There are finished projects!
• I’m not sure which color I really want to use so I’ll buy both and see how it goes.
• It’s a souvenir.  Buy it in the place I am visiting and when (if) I make the something with it, I have double the memories of my trip.
• I know I had something specific in mind when I bought this but now I can’t remember what.
• I like it and it makes me happy!

The fact that yarn makes us happy is a good enough reason to buy it, don’t you think? It is such a simple pleasure.  And in the long run, having an OYS is relatively harmless…well…until those tubs start falling out of the closets on top of innocent loved ones or their escaping ends ensnare the unsuspecting limbs of someone innocently rummaging through that closet for a lost mitten.

My girls joke with me all the time about the fact that all they will inherit from me is a ton of yarn.  Maybe so, but discovering it in all of its various hiding places will be the scavenger hunt to remember!  And maybe, just maybe, they’ll take the time to go through those tubs and find that tail end that was from the afghan I made for them when they left for college, or from the hat with ear flaps and braids that was requested in lime green, or from the blanket they wrapped their first baby in when he came home from the hospital, or that afghan that was strewn on my couch for all those years that now is strewn on theirs…

All that to say that having an OYS is a long road to happiness.

 

 

From Kris

Before I retired, I would dream of days or weeks off where I could stay in my pajamas all day, eat junk food, and loose myself in a good “brain candy” kind of novel.  And when those days did finally come, there was always a drawer that needed to be cleaned out, mildew that needed to be scrubbed out of the shower, or I was so tired that I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to get through five pages.  When I finally retired, for a brief shining moment I thought that those hideaway days with a books that I fantasized about during my working days would become the norm.  They didn’t.  Drawers still need to be organized, bathrooms still need to be cleaned, and there are more dishes to do than ever because we are at home for three meals a day most days.

It wasn’t until last week, thanks to isloation due to COVID exposure that I finally realized the life that I have dreamed about for all these years.  Since we were in isolation, there was no need to get really dressed, like no full complement of undergarments was required and didn’t have to worry about keeping the house super neat because no one would be coming to visit.  Honestly, I felt this weird sense of peace knowing that I could stay home and cocoon for awhile.  I headed for all those books that have been piling up for when I “had time” to read them.

When asked what my favorite genre is, my unfiltered response is usually non-fiction, followed by poetry.  I think that my mind jumps to non-fiction because that it what I took the time to read during my working days.  For whatever reason, non-fiction seemed worthy of my precious time whereas fiction felt more frivolous.  Don’t ask me to justify this thinking.  I can’t.

My isolation reading has included a little bit of everything!

In five days I read four novels, a short story, random poems, and I began a non-fiction audiobook.  If you are interested in the specifics, here they are.

Wish You Were Here by Jodi Picoult – I have been reading Picoult’s work from her beginnings.  I enjoy her ability to create depth in her characters as well as how she can take something that is almost familiar and make the reader see life from a different perspective.  This novel is set in the early days of the COVID outbreak.  It is a good read, but it also forces the stark realization that though we have made progress, nearly two years later, some things have not changed.

Pew by Catherine Lacey – I got this book awhile back when it was offered as a free Kindle download.  I loved it!  Both for Lacey’s brilliant story telling and its many layers.  Pew is a modern day fable about our current world.  It brings in to question how we look at people, institutions-both sacred and secular, morality, and all the threads that connect people, places, and things.  This novel was reminiscent of Ursula Le Guin’s short story The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, so I reread that.  And I should probably read it again.  LeGuin has much to say in these twenty-two short pages.

Lacey ends this book with a final section entitled Be Advised.  In it she mentions author Jesse Ball, whom I was not familiar.  Though retired, I am still an academic deep down so I had to look him up…and ended up reading one of his novels.

How to Set A Fire and Why by Jesse Ball – At its core, this novel is about our deep need to matter, to belong, and the depths to which one will reach in the hope of achieving those things.  Ball is an incredibly engaging writer.  Though this was the first of his works I’ve read, it will not be the last.

See Jane Snap by Bethany Crandell  – Of all that I read during my book binge, this one was definitely “the fluff” read.  It is an engaging story that does not take the brain power that any of the other novels that I read require, which was a welcome relief.

I got the Best American Poetry 2021, an anthology, for my birthday.  It sits on the table by my chair, usually under my current knitting project.  When I know its not a good time to get totally sucked into a novel, like when the frozen pizza needs to be taken out of the oven in 13 minutes, I’ll open this to a random page and read a poem. The thing I love about poetry is that the same poem reads differently each time you read it.  Unlike a novel whose ending doesn’t change on subsequent readings, a poem may something different every time you encounter it.

And then there is the audiobook…I can’t listen to fiction.  I don’t know why, but my mind wanders  It may be because I am a visual learner and I tend to be distracted by “shiny things” around me. 🙂  But, I can be fully-engaged when listening to non-fiction.  So, this is what I do while getting my miles in on the treadmill.  My current non-fiction listen is Adeventures in Opting Out: A Field Guide to Leading an Intentional Life – by Cait Flanders.  I listen in 3-4 mile chunks, no more than 45 minutes at a time so I am moving more slowly through this one.  Maybe I’m just being more intentional about getting through it.  I may have more to say once I’ve listened to the entire book.

Though I regret that the world is still dealing with COVID – the illness, the death, the isolation, the politics that surround it, the fact that it has proven over and over that people in this country are incapable of loving their neighbor, I am grateful that my days of isolation reminded me of how much I love to read.  And that it is OK to let the dishes and the laundry sit a little longer while I read “just one more chapter.”  Oh and that my days have required no mandatory bedtime or morning alarm!

 

from Tracey

Every time I open my Goodreads app to check whether the latest book I’ve finished has been added to my tally of books read, I smile and wonder if any of my Goodreads friends laugh (or roll their eyes) at my book selections that may pop up, as I am firmly planted on Team Fiction. I enjoy a good biography/autobiography occasionally, but generally – fiction is my thing, and some of my choices are definitely lighter than others! 😉 My choices though are always all over the place, from fairy tale-style stories of the Fae to all kinds of dystopian and then on to historical fiction, and even historical fiction with a supernatural/sci-fi twist like time travel (looking at you Outlander series!). Maybe they have always been my escapes, the grown-up version of “mom, tell me a story!” kind of thing.

Every year I do the Goodreads Reading Challenge, and every year I set the bar low for my book-reading goal – I have chosen 12 every year since I started doing it in 2017. I set it at 12 because I figure, at the very least I can read one book a month. (there’s been a few though, that I’ve read last year, that I just could NOT get through and it felt like I was slogging through mud, and I know it was putting my one-month-to-read-a-book to the test) Doing the math, I average about 63 books a year. Last year, I had my highest ever tally at 84! But I think what contributed to that total was I had a lot of short, fluffy reads in there, AND I discovered that I love audio books as well for when I’m sitting and knitting (as long as it’s a mindless knit, and not one I have to keep any kind of counted track of, lol) – and yes, they do count toward books read in my opinion!

I also have a love of Kindle Unlimited, it really allows me to branch out and try things I would end up being mad I spent money on – which has happened more than once! And the library’s digital books have been wonderful even before the pandemic! I love checking out a book or two from home and not having to worry about getting it physically back to the library! I wish I could think of any books that I’ve read that have really been a “wow!” for me this past year, but there were a few that were “hey that was pretty good”, but not many wow-worthy. I wish I had a listing for you of books I’ve read this year, but there’s nothing that shines out, aside from Go Tell the Bees that I Am Gone. 

I feel like a lot of the books I read were time-fillers while waiting for the release of book 9 of the Outlander series finally arriving in November of last year, Go Tell the Bees that I Am Gone. I’d been waiting a couple years at least for this particular book, and it was hard not to fly through it, but I managed to slow down to savor it because it’s likely to be another long wait for the next (and maybe last) book in the series by Diana Gabaldon. Her books are always well-written, and to me very enjoyable to read. I’ve also listened to a few of the Outlander books and the lady that does the narration is fabulous – she does different voices for the different characters with accents and it’s amazing. Now that I’ve read Go Tell the Bees that I Am Gone, I’m currently listening to it on Audible. I still can’t believe I enjoy audio books as much as I do, what a lovely surprise!

I also read Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo, which kicks off that book series because I’d seen it has become a series on Netflix and wanted to read it before watching. And speaking of Netflix…

That leads me to my other source of fluff – bingeable series! Oh my, I’d finally got to finish watching Once Upon a Time on Disney Plus, then moved on to the latest season of Dr. Who on HBO Max and when I ran out of that series, I was in a quandary as to what to watch next. I enjoy setting these things up on my phone and watching while I knit, so I was kind of bored without the multi-tasking going on. That’s when I took a chance on The Vampire Diaries on Netflix, which was a tv series on the CW network. It has 8 seasons and averages 22 episodes per season – perfect. Lots of material to work with, is complete and an easy no-thinking subject because it’s going to be cheesy and out there etc. etc. etc.

Well shame on me for underestimating this network (CW) and this series! My goodness. What a ride, it has to have been one of the best things I’ve watched in ages. Seriously. I could not stop watching, yes it has it’s icky moments that I watched through fingers like any other horror-type movie, but that’s kind of par for the course with the subject matter. The humor was fantastic! The series had me run the gamut of emotions as well – happy, sad, and so forth. There were also numerous relatable situations (I know that sounds crazy since it’s a show about vampires in a small town, lol, but really it does have them!) that took you once again through the feels – it honestly has it all. The character development of certain characters was great too – by the end of the series (which I thought they did a great job wrapping up – a clear ending) one of the characters that felt like a non-essential supporting one at the start, became one of my favorites to watch by the end. I think maybe it’s the title of the series that turned me off from watching it sooner, the title really doesn’t fit the tv series that well, it’s kind of deceiving. I liked it so much I may watch it again. And now that I’ve finished The Vampire Diaries, I’ve moved on to Supernatural, also from the CW network. So far so good: cute guys, great car and supernatural adventures, perfect. One of these days I’ll have to post a follow-up list of tv series I’ve enjoyed that are worth a watch!

I wish I could say the pandemic prompted my fluff binge, but I can’t. And it’s carried over into my viewing preferences as well as you can see. I do think however, that it has influenced me in seeking it out MORE. I’ve always had an inclination toward it, but the amount I’ve digested has increased. More time at home, more reasons to want to escape and destress from the every-day world out there in these stupid times. I believe it has become a great tool to helping me keep what little sanity I have left, a kind of therapy! Hey! I think that my health insurance should cover my books and my streaming service fees – they are saving a ton on therapy bills!! 😀

As  bloggers, or any kind of writer, for that matter, we always wonder if our words will speak to someone else.  How might sharing our own thoughts and stories impact anothing person?  Our philosophy has always been that if even one person finds a blog post meaningful then it was worth writing and sharing.  So is the case with our recent posts about knitting.

One of our faithful readers was imspired to write, and graciously share with us, her personal story about learning to knit.  We all have stories inside that deserve to be written, whether we share them with others or not.

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How I Learned to Knit

My father was an alcoholic. My parents divorced when I was 3 and my sister,Holly, was2. My mom bought a house on a corner. At the other end of the block, across the street was a park. Past the far end of the park, down about a block, was a “beer joint” or bar.

One day my father came to visit. My mother left him in charge of me for some reason. He probably was supposed to take me to the park. I was 4. I don’t remember my sister being with my father and me. I guess my mom took Holly somewhere. My mom did not have a car, so she couldn’t have gone far.

I don’t remember going to the park, but I do remember sitting in the booth at the far end of the bar while my father sat at the counter having a beer. There was a lady there. I think she worked there. I guess she felt sorry for me, so she came over and sat with me. She had some knitting. I remember her trying to teach me how to knit. I guess when my mom got home and didn’t find us where we were supposed to be, she went looking for us. She found us at the bar. I remember her arguing with my father.

Years later when I was 10, I was sent to Girl Scout camp. Our unit was in the craft room. We were supposed to create something with the supplies there. There were sticks and bark and a bunch of other things. I was drawn to the small bunch of cream colored yarn. It was soft. Maybe mohair. I remembered the lady at the bar. I wanted to reteach myself how to knit, but didn’t have any knitting needles, so I used two pencils. I didn’t have my project finished at the end of the craft session, so I took my supplies with me. I remember trying to figure out how to cast on stitches. Then how to knit. There wasn’t very much yarn. I just made a small square. Maybe 3”x3.” I called it my crying pad. I used it to wipe my tears. I was terribly homesick.

When I was about 13, I had some money. I bought a skein of yarn, a pair of green size 7 knitting needles, and a ‘how to” book. I don’t remember what I made, if anything, but I have since made dozens of sweaters (26 in one year), blankets, baby clothes, and assorted other things. Several projects I never finished. I am currently working on a pair of black fingerless mitts made with velvet yarn.

I occasionally think back to the lady at the bar and wonder if she realized how she would foster my love of knitting. I’m sure she has since passed on, since that was 60 years ago. I hope she had a good life. I am grateful for her kindness.

P.S. One year my father gave my sister and me $20 each for Christmas. I bought a kid’s knitting machine. I gave my sister my leftover money so she could buy a car race track. I don’t have that knitting machine anymore, but when my husband was stationed in Iceland, I looked though a catalog, found a knitting machine and had him buy it. I also had him purchase $50 of various colors of wool yarn. The yarn didn’t work with the machine, being too thick, but I still have the yarn. In a box. In the closet upstairs. I really should make something with it. I’ve only had it for 36 years.

-WSS

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We hope that you might be inspired to write your story.

Kris and Tracey