family

A Christmas story

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The little family came for Christmas. The resemblance to the ancient family was purely coincidental. The daddy’s name was Joseph, the mommy was pregnant, tired and uncomfortable. And my role was something like the Innkeeper’s, trying to make everybody comfortable and content even though the rain was coming down hard on Christmas Eve and expectations were high–especially my own and those of the 4-year-old, the big sister to the coming child.

She was the wild card in this Christmas story, she of the opinions, energy, charm, and uncanny sensitivity to whatever vibes are emanating from those around her. Continue reading →

Barracuda rules

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The game had rules but they kept changing, of course, because making the rules, changing the rules, and winning are very important to four-year-olds.

This one was in her element: a pool, with four adults in her orbit. One adult or another, or all of us, or she herself, was to be “shark,” out to get her, or someone else, or everybody else, depending on the rule of the moment. The definition of winning also shifted from second to second, from getting to being gotten, anything to guarantee lots of chasing and splashing.

I added another layer of complication to the game by introducing “barracuda” as a second predator. “What’s a barracuda?” she asked. Continue reading →

Blank Friday

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IMG_0308Yesterday the little family, who had spent Thanksgiving with us, had to leave by 10 a.m. so my husband and I had Black Friday to ourselves. I spent it in front of the woodstove, reading. It was a Blank Friday.

I did not pick up the last of the toys scattered on the floor. I did not speak more than 10 words to Vic. I did not exercise. I did not go out of the house. I nibbled leftovers all day but, after making a breakfast frittata for everybody out of the leftover mashed potatoes with leeks, I did not feed anybody else. I did not go online and post pictures of our Thanksgiving table or our Thanksgiving snow. I did not go online, period. Continue reading →

My father’s daughter

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IMG_0304In a few days I will pick up the Thanksgiving turkey and pies at the South Bend Farmers Market. I have a personal connection with that market. My father sold his family’s poultry there when he was a teenager, helping support his family during the Depression.

It’s one of those circles that close when you move back to home territory after a lifetime of living elsewhere. I like that connection but other echoes of my father’s life in my own sometimes trouble me. Continue reading →

Burning Bibles

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bible burning

A few days ago I cleaned off my study shelves and was shocked to discover that some books had gotten moldy. I’ve never had that problem before. Our Midwestern summer has been so wet that it makes me think of Flight Behavior, Barbara Kingsolver’s devastating novel about climate change. Among the moldy books were two Bibles that had belonged to my mother, old-fashioned, tissue-leaved, King James Version, well worn. Continue reading →

Playing the body numbers

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I would really like to think that we can avoid the American scourges of heart disease and diabetes, if not cancer, by leading a healthy lifestyle. And I would really like to stay away from the complicating medications meant to treat them.

Thus, it was only reluctantly, after years of futilely trying to get my cholesterol numbers down with diet and supplements, that I agreed to start taking a statin. My husband is holding out against medication for himself, choosing to believe those who say cholesterol numbers aren’t all that important. Which of us will live longer? I guess you’ll have to wait and see. Continue reading →

C in writing

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Today I began a new book because I finished another book that  made me want to read this one. I  finished Pat Schneider’s How the Light Gets In and now I wanted to read her book about how she teaches writing. The book is Writing Alone and with Others.

I want to read this book because in the other book, her most recent one, she mentions Malawi. She says several times that her writing workshops have been given in many places and to many kinds of people and have been successful, even in Malawi villages. I think of Congo. I wonder if I could teach writing in Congo. To women who can barely read. I am just curious enough about this to buy the book and begin reading immediately, believing I must explore this before I go to Congo again. This happens to me often. Books present themselves to be read, interrupting what you are doing, interrupting your plans, because, it turns out, they will change whatever it was you were doing, the thing that was interrupted. Continue reading →

Perfect potato salad

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I have tried many times throughout my life as an adult cook to replicate the big picnic comfort food of my childhood but I never came close. As far as I can remember all my mother ever did was toss potatoes, chopped celery, and hardboiled eggs with lots of Miracle Whip. I tried that once and hated it. I learned that ever since I tasted real mayonnaise and even sometimes made my own, I cannot stand the sweet/harsh acid taste of Miracle Whip. Continue reading →