Taking the night off

Tonight I'm not in the mood to do any heavy reading. I spent a long day reading emails, memos, and student quizzes and my brain is fried. I think I will actually break down and watch TV. Okay not TV per se but Netflix. In 1987, British writer, Caroline Graham introduced her famous detective Chief Inspector Barnaby in The Killings at Badgers Drift. Ten years later, Barnaby made his television debut. I'm not one to watch much TV so when I do the program has to be really worth it and Midsomer Murders fits the bill. Talk about excellent writing. These are some really well crafted mysteries that will keep you guessing right up until the final denouement. So, if you love a good mystery, kick off the shoes, curl up on the sofa or ease the recliner back and tune in for an excellent example of the British village murder story. This isn't Agatha Christie we're talking about.

Ghost story for October

I can remember last Halloween, we were sitting around the wood stove in the family room by the light of several candles; there were no trick or treaters coming to the door as Halloween was cancelled. Cancelled you may ask? Yes, cancelled. A freak snow storm on the 29th had thrown much of the town and the region into darkness. The wet, heavy snow which settled thickly on branches still filled with leaves brought down limbs, trees and power lines. It was unsafe to be out going door to door in search of sweet treats. The four of us sat tucked up to keep warm, heating water over the fire for hot cocoa. My daughter, Maria, read to us from an anthology of stories by Edgar Allen Poe. What a way to spend the night!

I read Susan Hill's The Man in the Picture today. I'm not usually one for reading ghost stories but this one was delightful. I guess that sounds like an oxymoron. It was delightful in the sense that the language was rich and flowing. The suspense built and twisted. I certainly don't want to spoil it for you. It's October after all, time for a good ghost story.

New favorite quote

If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need. - Marcus Tullius Cicero

I went to the library today to return some items and to find some new stuff to read. Blogged about Susan Hill last week and as she was a new author to me (introduced by a web search and recommended by my favorite librarian), I figured I would try some of her other titles (see previous post on Howards End is on the Landing). I've brought home The Man in the Picture, a ghost story, and The Various Haunts of Men, a detective story and one of my favorite genres.

The other titles I chose today include: Simonetta Agnello Hornby's The Almond Picker, The Roots of my Obsession: Thirty great gardeners reveal why they garden edited by Thomas C. Cooper, and The Roots of the Olive Tree by Courtney Miller Santo. Then I get to the circulation desk to check out my choices and the Cicero quote above is on a magnet on the filing cabinet behind the desk. He was so right! Two of the best things in life are having a beautiful garden to work in, or sit in to read; and the other is to have either your own private library or collection of books, or the great blessing of a good public library. What's even better is reading books about gardens, gardeners, or nature. Two pleasures in one!

Good grief? continued

Journal entry from April 18, 2012
Finished a memoir (All Wound Up: The Yarn Harlot Writes for a Spin) by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, a woman who works from home, blogs, raises three teenaged daughters, and has a passion for knitting. Knitting is Stephanie's art form and livelihood, and as she examines life she relates lessons learned back to the ways of knitting.

I loved the escapades of life that she recounted and could appreciate the humor. Daily life is a challenge and we all need something to do to help us through. I myself have used knitting but most often it's my cross-stitching that I find to be relaxing and meditative.

She wrote an essay entitled "The Time of the Big Not Knitting," about a period of grief in which knitting was not a solace. She chose not to knit, but rather found that she needed all her energy to deal with her deep sorrow, as well as, care for those around her. She never mentions what her deep sorrow was but knews that each reader could relate to a time in his/her own life. I'm finding it hard to write even though I know it might help me.

I had signed up for a writing course shortly before my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. I found I couldn't focus on the first assignment. It was so simple. I composed it in my head. I just couldn't get it out and onto paper or typed into the computer. I ended up withdrawing after the first class. Dad passed away shortly there after.

I'm still struggling with grief. Trying to right my life. There are days I feel I am loat at sea just bobbing along among the waves. Other days I seem to be my very efficient self, things get done and I fell competent.

I'm grateful to have taken a few moments to multitask (I've got dinner on the stove), and to write this little essay in my journal. Hopefully, I will find the energy to generate a blog post of this. There are several others that need to be composed and posted from the journal writing I have done over the last several months.

10/16/2012 - so here is the post finally. The writing is starting to happen again. Just like when Stephanie returned to her knitting once the grief had been lived through and the healing took place.

Good grief?

This has been a year of grieving. First my father's passing, the graduation of my daughter and her moving on to college (strange to call it a form of grief), saying good-bye to the lake house and all its wonderful memories, and now Aunt Ruth's funeral mass today. It has been such a challenging year. I've written about reading Tolstoy and the Purple Chair, a memoir of grieving and now I have another title to share, Anne Tyler's The Beginner's Goodbye. Aaron, the narrator of this story has lost his wife and begins the process of grief and the eventual return to life that comes after the healing process.

But I want to focus on this passage, " 'Reading is the first to go,' my mother used to say, meaning that it was a luxury the brain dispensed with under duress. She claimed that after my father died she never again picked up anything more demanding than the morning paper. At the time I thought that was sort of melodramatic of her, but now I found myself reading the same paragraph six times over, and still I couldn't have told you what it was about." (p. 52) I thank God this did not happen to me. Reading was my fallback. I could escape my own thoughts for a while. At times the ideas running through my head were just to much to handle and I needed a break. Thankfully, Tyler's story is an example of someone who makes it through the grief to the other side. It's an example of hope for those of us who are still slogging through the mire.

The Purple Chair Revisited

February 14, 2012 journal entry
I just want to sit and escape from the world for a while. Maybe escaping for a while is okay. Just not forever. The world has been a scary place recently and I've need to get away from it for some time to rebuild my strength. I held it together for so long but now I need to rest. Start from the ground up. The purple chair is a blue love seat that thankfully doesn't smell of old cat urine. Plus I don't plan to retreat so completely as to read a book everyday for a year no matter how attractive that does sound. 

Nearly eight months ago I wrote of the grief over my father's death. My mother and I had brought my dad back from the hospital so that he could die at home. There is no rest for us this year. At the end of June we placed an aunt in the nursing home and she passed away two days ago. Once again we find ourselves planning a funeral. I am exhausted and seek only to take to my bed with a book and read. I crave comfort which can only be found under the covers of my quilt and between the covers of a good book. Maybe Nina Sankovitch had it right in her memoir, Tolstoy and the Purple Chair, there is a way through grief by a dose of daily reading.

What now?

I think Susan Hill has put it very well in her book Howards End is on the Landing, "But I was looking for a book. I have no option but to find one here, in the house, for this is my year of reading from home and suddenly there is nothing, absolutely nothing, I want to take down and open, to read or re-read. I don't think the fault lies in the books, the feeling applies to the wardrobe (nothing to wear), or the full larder (nothing I want to eat). I daresay very rich people with the private jet standing by have the same problem- no where they want to go." (page. 77) I have finished the book and now I need another. 

Bad news came last night with one of those heart thumping, jarring awake from sleep telephone calls. Someone dear had passed away. It was expected and it's a blessing that the suffering was little and quickly over. But now I was wide awake and I needed distraction from the thoughts in my head so I turned to the book and finished it off. Then I was able to sleep once more. 

Thank God for the comfort of books. It has been a year of needing comfort and escape when life has just become to over whelming. Every once in a while the struggle comes when I go to the book shelf for the next volume only to discover I'm not really thrilled with any of the choices there. Oh there are plenty of choices, and just like Susan Hill I could used to go a year without buying anything new (in fact the year before last I vowed to read from my collection or that of my local library). Oh just pick one, try it, if it doesn't work out try another. I often do that only to find a week maybe two goes by and then I find my way back to the discarded choice to pick it up and avidly read it to the end. Sometimes there just must be the right time for the reading of a particular book. The old saying goes "the teacher will appear when the student is ready," in this case it is "that the book will come along when the reader is ready!"