Happy Holidays, Family & Friends

It's beginning to look a lot like Solstice – darker every day – as we approach the turn of the Mayan calendar and an unpredictable fiscal slope. We hope our annual bit of creative nonfiction finds you in good spirits and good health. We would love to hear your own Revised Standard Version of life in your part of the world.

The Year of the Dragon brought change, and we are all seeking balance. Jessi joined the hurricane recovery effort Respond and Rebuild, organized by his friend Gabriel. With tools donated by Occupy Sandy, crews of volunteers remove toxic debris from flooded houses in Rockaway, Queens. Jessi’s regular job is art handling – packing, moving, and hanging art for galleries and collectors. On a rainy week in May, he joined a posse of friends on a bike trip to Acadia National Park in Maine. He went to Guatemala in July, taking Spanish classes, trekking up volcanoes, and exploring Mayan ruins. 

Gven teaches 14 yoga classes a week and took up boxing at a gym in Westerville – peace, love, pugilism. She spends countless hours working with fabric in her little studio and took part in two workshops with the Art Quilt Network,  delving deeper into hand-dying and hand stitching. In August, Gven and Zelda joined Annette and Sharon and their families in Georgia to celebrate her mother’s 80th birthday.

Ignoring Thoreau’s advice to beware of all enterprises requiring new clothes, Sven started a new job as a policy editor in risk management at JPMorgan Chase. He works with a world-class team of writers, mortgage gurus, and IT wizards to make the world safe for borrowers (and bankers). In September, he and Gven joined Anna Banana, Jeanie Beanie, Jo Jo, and The Rock (and spouses) in Tennessee to celebrate his mother’s 91st birthday.  

Zelda started coursework toward her MLIS in January, balancing part-time classes with full-time work. After six years at Half Price Books, she decided to turn the page and focus on school. Zelda and her new housemate Alicia moved into a duplex in a nice old Columbus neighborhood. In July, she took a road trip to North Carolina to visit college friends and took her dad kayaking on Big Darby Creek for Father’s Day.

The garden had mixed reactions to a year of extreme weather. What we missed in strawberries we got back tenfold in peaches. Storms brought down some big trees, so we have firewood for winter, and we planted a bunch of seedlings to fill in. A black cat named Lamar joined the family right after New Year’s, and after some mild sparring with Ruby, he has made himself right at home. 

 

From our home to yours, have a happy holiday!

Peace on Earth,

Sven and Gven

Photos (top to bottom, left to right):

Natural forces at work, Pulhapanzak, Honduras; Jessi and friend with pyramid, Guatemala; Risk management, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala; Zelda in repose; Zelda, Viking librarian; Iris, salvia, more salvia; Peaches in Ohio!

Out of State

It feels surprisingly good to go back to work after a long weekend away. I only took one day off, a Friday to travel to a major family gathering for my Mom’s 91st birthday, but a three-day weekend still breaks up the routine, especially when it involves travel out of state.

The ease of re-entry is due in part to having gotten all of the work done last week to publish 20 policies this week. When the admin team gets them posted to the website, I will have a lot of quality checking to do, and it’s good to have something to do. The relative calm of the office routine is much needed as I recover from a difficult drive home.

It wasn’t traffic or weather or car trouble, thank goodness, just my own tired, cranky condition coming off a weekend with my dear parents and siblings in the context of celebrating Mom’s birthday while Mom and Dad prepare to move out of their house. And it was a good party, with plenty of family time sandwiched between a quiet supper on Friday night and a buffet brunch on Sunday morning, but by the end I was worn out and irritable. The manic, well-intentioned activity among brothers and sisters reached a saturation point, and I had to go. It also felt good to sleep in my own bed.

Mom herself was fine. The matriarch in her dotage was surrounded by her loving kids. There was enough activity in the house that she didn’t have much time to complain about her vision or hearing, and when she got tired she took a nap. Sister Ann did a good job of getting Mom out to get a pedicure, which lightened her mood and gave them something indulgent to do together. Soon the torch will be passed.

Bottom line, everyone was present and accounted for, doing their best to make a positive contribution, which sometimes ends up being too much of a good thing. The three sisters really do mean well, and in their earnest efforts to control the flow of the day and make everything alright they occasionally get out of control.

The enlightened brothers in law seem to have their acts together and know better than to intervene except when absolutely necessary. It’s a good thing there were college football games on TV that interested them – OSU vs. MSU, UGA vs. UT, South Carolina vs. Florida – giving them a benign sporting presence in the living room all Saturday afternoon. It also gave me something to talk about with Fred and Barney on their own terms about things they know more about that I do. And my team won.

Gven and I got there first for a change. Mom and Dad had soup ready, we had a drink, and I sliced some peach bread, and had a nice supper. We got the guest bedroom by default. Ann and Fred arrived from Detroit after dinner, and we had dessert together. After a pleasant evening, they stayed overnight with Mom and Dad’s friends the Kings, whom they have gotten to know through their kids in Michigan.

Dad made breakfast, and we went about some chores he had planned: trim the blue spruce in the front yard, bag and load those and other clippings in our car to take to the dump down by the shooting range at the Sportsman’s Club; load bags of plastic, glass, metal, and paper to drop off at the recycling center; buy big bags of bird seed at the Feed Store in Crossville; buy cereal at Food City.

Jean and Barney arrived from Greenville early Saturday afternoon in time for lunch and stayed at the Hampton Inn just off the interstate. Mary Jo arrived late in the afternoon from Atlanta and stayed in a motel the first night, then moved into a guest bedroom and stayed a couple of days before taking her late husband’s ashes up to Raven Rock, Kentucky, where he used to play as a boy.

Jean made sloppy joes, baked beans, and fruit salad for supper, and there were enough people to add the extension to the dining room table, as well as plenty of extended family news to discuss. Intense negotiations followed for hours as we attempted to decide which plates, cups, bowls, spoons, pitchers, serving trays and platters from Mom and Dad’s hutch would go home with whom. This was high on Mom’s agenda so they would have only their essentials to move to their new apartment.

Everyone went to church on Sunday morning, squeezing into one pew in the very back of the Methodist church. Against Mom’s wishes, Lanita, the associate minister, announced that it was Helen’s 91st birthday, and the entire congregation sang Happy Birthday. She also gave a very nice humanistic sermon about salt, about ordinary but essential qualities, and about affirming the inherent good in everyone regardless of their imperfections.

Pete and Cindy arrived from Nashville in time to meet us back at the house after church, and we all caravanned to the Cumberland Mountain State Park restaurant for Sunday brunch. It was another beautiful early autumn day on the plateau, and we took a couple of group photos overlooking the river. Finally everyone was there at one table, and conversations extended to work, co-workers, kids and their school and work relationships, much of it evolving in new and unexpected directions. And fantasy football. I learned a great deal about the world of fantasy NFL and even sat next to someone who is on a first-name basis with Rob Gronkowski.

Leave-taking happened in stages. After brunch everyone gathered back at the parental abode for birthday cake, cards, and gifts. The big one was a new TV stand for Mom and Dad’s new apartment, assuming that they get one soon. Jean and Barney left for South Carolina, and soon after Sven and Gven left for Ohio, with stops for gas and coffee making it home around ten, when Zoe came over with the dog. Re-entry was accomplished without damage to craft or crew.

Inna Godda da Vida

Most days this is where I hang out. In a garden, the life. It's where I choose to sit and drink coffee in the morning, weather permitting, and have a bite of breakfast. For a few minutes it's a restful place to take in the visual and auditory state of the garden while the wrens go about their rambunctious business, the salvia calmly withstand the heat, and the other fauna and flora do what they do.

When I come home at night, this is where I choose to sit and have a drink and perhaps a bite of supper if there's enough light, winding down from a day of risk management. Throw in a workout here and there, and that's pretty much what I do on a normal suburban day.

On the weekend, of course, I have the distinct pleasure of doing the actual gardening, for as we know, there is no garden without the actual work of gardening, notwithstanding the ads on TV that tell people they can go to a big-box store and buy one. And that's the deal. You have to do the weeding and watering, the digging and planting, the thinning and transplanting, the pruning and disposing of debris and detritus, if you want to live in a garden.

But all that is the fun part. Once you get into it, grabbing a spade or a trowel and bending over weed after weed is a satisfying chore - a chore nonetheless, but take a look after an hour or so, and see the difference! Then, if you're smart, you'll take a break, sit in the shade, and enjoy a nice cool beverage, which you have earned and your body needs. Then, if there's time, you move on to the next mundane, monotonous, meditative chore and weed another bed, move a clump of groundcover to fill in a bare spot, or give the tomatoes a drink of water.

All of this is obvious, given the nature of gardening: that gardens are not naturally occurring, like forests, or floodplains, or prairies, or deserts. They have to be created and maintained by gardeners. And the hypothetical imperative, if you're a gardener is to take care of it, nurture it, give it love, and respond to its needs.

In return, the gardener get to see the effect of his or her labor, either immediate as in the case of a nice, weed-free bed, or deferred as in the case of a newly planted tree, sprigs of groundcover, or bean seeds. But above all, the gardener has the distinct privilege of inhabiting a garden.

100-day gong

Starting a new job the day after Memorial Day seemed like a good time to buy a membership at the community pool and augment my workouts with a little cross training. We've lived two blocks from the Jaycee Pool for eight years and never gone there to swim. What am I waiting for?

So, in the spirit of the 100-day gong in qigong tradition, I decided to embark on a summer-long regimen of bicycling and swimming. The time frame of Memorial Day to Labor Day is roughly the same as my 90-day introductory period at the new place of employment. Perfect. While I'm getting up an hour earlier, starting work at 8:00 every morning, and giving up potato pancakes on Sundays, I will also bike and swim every day (with certain exceptions to be determined).

The first week, I biked and swam every day except Friday, when it rained. So I'm a fair-weather practitioner of the ancient art of bike-swim-gong. Sue me. At this point in my development, I'm good for an hour or so on the bike (12-15 miles) and four laps (200 meters) in the pool, which isn't much, but it's a great way to wind down after work. And a great prelude to a cold pale ale.

The second week, I biked and swam every day except Friday, when I met a friend for a drink and conversation after work. Now I can do 90 minutes (15-20 mi) on the bike and 6 laps (300m) in the pool, then a gin and tonic.

The third week, I had classes in the park on Monday and Thursday, so I missed those days of the bike-and-swim gong, but the other days I increased my distance to 8 laps (400m) and I feel good. My stroke is changing a little, too, and I think I'm wasting less effort in my crawl stroke, which has never been very efficient.

The fourth week, I'm up to ten laps (500m) in the pool, and I don't feel fatigued afterward, so I guess I'm gaining some aerobic fitness. In this hot weather, there are more people at the pool in the hour before closing, so I have company in the lap pool. I have a hard time staying in my lane, something else to work on.

The fifth week was complicated by a Tuesday meeting after work with a friend and a violent thunderstorm Friday afternoon, in addition to classes on Monday and Thursday. Wednesday I stayed late at the office to meet a deadline, so no bike and no swim until Saturday, when I managed 12 laps. So much for the daily routine with rare exceptions. Sometimes it's the rare routine with daily exceptions.

The sixth week had a national holiday in the middle of it, which should have been ready-made for an afternoon bike ride and swim, but I missed a beat by going late in the day, not knowing the pool would close early for the annual Methodistville fireworks extravaganza, so I got in the bike ride, a very pleasant spin around Sharon Woods, but not the swim. Cooking out with our friends the Gormans, however, more than made up for it, and by the weekend I was back on track with 14 laps (600m).

The seventh week was another gongus interuptus, so I guess I'm over the idea of daily workouts, though it remains to be seen whether this derails the whole process and ruins the intended effect. Tuesday I only had time for an abbreviated bike and swim, but I'll take it. Wednesday I was pumped, but there was a swim meet in MY pool, so no go. Monday and Thursday I had classes, which went very well, thank you, and Friday I met my friend John at Bel Lago for our regular libation to solve the world's problems and lament our own. So Saturday was only my second workout of the week, and lo and behold I had the entire JC pool to myself (and about a hundred wrens playfully dive-bombing the water) as I easily raised the bar to 16 laps (800m). Hey, that's about half a mile! With the peace and quiet and solitude, I'm finding the rhythm of breaststroke, backstroke, and crawl remarkably meditative. Who knew?

Take a break!

To go to the Rose Festival at the Park of Roses, but only after cleaning the house and doing a little laundry, starting a batch of bread and watering plants. Run into an old friend who insists on introducing a friend of hers, who introduces a couple of his friends, you catch the drift, and the garden turns into a network of mutual friends in which I pause to do a bit of basic movement.

From there go to the coop and buy the basic beans (Great Northern, Red Chili), flour (whole wheat pastry), and beer (Red Bud Ale from Portsmouth, Ohio) and a handmade father's day card. Go home, knead the bread, start the bean soup, add onions, carrots, celery, mushrooms, habanero peppers, canned salmon, and coconut milk, let it simmer, and call it great northern salmon stew.

Pull a few weeds, transplant a few lamb's ear, and check the Reds-Tigers game. Take a break from taking a break and drink some water. Eat half an avocado with cherry tomatoes and cranberry walnut bread and coffee with Bailey's. Pull some more weeds, and stop in time to go for a quick bike ride down Alum Creek Trail, surprise a deer and a groundhog, and get back in time to go for a swim at JC Pool.

It's June, so it's time for a gin and tonic with a bowl of rice and great northern salmon stew, with a Cheez-It chaser while watching the Miami Heat blow it.