Christmas Books

 

Every year I read the kids A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens in December, leading up to Christmas. This was a tradition we had in my house when I was a kid and I've so enjoyed continuing it. I'm not a huge re-reader of books generally, but I love both the well trodden lines I remember and expect of A Christmas Carol and the lines that resonate with me newly in any given year. I love reading it aloud, feeling the delicious words on my tongue and the energy of the characters on my breath. 

And we've added on our own reading tradition. We also unwrap a holiday picture book each night in December until Christmas. When my kids were small, my mother gave me the entire holiday picture book collection from my childhood. I started wrapping up 24 of the books before putting everything away at the end of the season, so we would be surprised the next year as we unwrapped them. I do some planning. One of the Yes, Virginia books is always on Virginia's birthday. And the 24th is always T'was the Night Before Christmas. (I number the wrapped books.) Our collection of holiday books grew and then our family and tradition grew when my nephew was born. Now my sister and I wrap books for each other each year and we really don't know exactly what we're getting when we unwrap them! We're able to share our childhood books this way, as well as the books we intentionally add so that we don't have to put too many weird ones in the mix to get 48 wrapped books. 

When I'm reading to the kids at night during the rest of the year, we mostly read novels now, with the occasional picture book when we're between novels. I think I've got several more years of reading A Christmas Carol left, but I'm not sure how much longer they'll want to unwrap picture books in December. Maybe awhile yet, for the sake of the tradition, and the many cute and fun picture books we have. But maybe not. Virginia starts middle school next year. I'm enjoying this season while it lasts. It is sweet. 

Doing the Dishes

My sister Amanda and I spent a month with our grandparents every summer after our parents got divorced. The plane ride from Atlanta to Laguardia took as long as the drive from Laguardia to Southold. 

My grandparents still lived in the house they had moved into after they got married and had added on to as they had kids. The one story house (with a mysterious basement where Pop did woodworking) had four bedrooms, one bathroom, and no dishwasher. 

From our first year there, it was established that Amanda and I would help with the dishes, to thank our grandparents for feeding and putting up with us for a month. (Our three cousins also came over every weekday, so we had fun playing with other kids, but altogether we could be a handful.) Grandma Kay did the dishes twice a day. After lunch, she washed up the breakfast and lunch dishes, and after dinner she washed up again. Normally, Pop dried. 

When we were there, Pop still dried dishes after lunch, while Amanda and I played with our cousins. After dinner Amanda and I took turns drying. She would do one night and I would do the next. This was really a small chore to ask of us while we stayed there, but from that very first year, we tried to get out of it whenever we could. We would make bets with Pop and whoever won had to take over the other's dish duty for a week. 

He bet us that sweet potatoes and yams were different things. We agreed Grandma would be the authority who decided the bet. We mobbed her as she got home from the grocery store that day. "Are yams and sweet potatoes different?" She said they were. We had to do Pop's lunch drying duty for a week. 

We bet Pop that he couldn't pull the stick out of a frozen ice pop. Grandma made ice pops by pouring juice into moulds. The five kids usually had them for an afternoon snack, around 2pm, which we called "hungry-feed-my-mouth time." The ice pop stick had holes through it, which I believed helped the ice pop better stick to the stick. We won this bet and Pop picked up our dinner drying duty for a week. 

The thing is, when I wasn't thinking of drying dishes as a chore, it was actually beautiful. My grandmother, who had just spent the day making food for five kids and then leaving us be to run wild with each other, asked me about my interests, about my friends back home, about my hobbies, and then...just listened. These were some of the moments of my childhood when I felt most heard. 

The summer when I started getting my period, I stained multiple pairs of underwear, still getting the hang of dealing with my unpredictable and occasionally overwhelming female body. We put all our laundry in one basket and Grandma Kay washed it. I was embarrassed about my underwear, but hoped they'd get dumped into the washing machine unnoticed. As we were alone together washing dishes, Grandma said, "I saw your underwear..." And I though, oh no. She said, "That used to happen to me. I hung them on the line to bleach out the stains." We were two women, talking plainly and honestly to each other. Helping each other out. 

It has been a privilege to have her in my life for so long. I have watched her get on the floor and play with my children. And I try to remember her patient, attentive listening when my kids want to talk non-stop about Minecraft and Yo Kai Watch. 

Grandma's house in Georgia, Summer 2019. Horatio and cousin Theo. Grandma Kay was still feeding us (see the tables in the background) and letting the cousins run wild. 

Ice Fishing

 

In the summer of 2019 when I started telling friends and family I was moving to Wisconsin, a surprising number of people brought up ice fishing as a fun Wisconsin thing to do. These interactions always left me wondering, "What, about me, has led you to believe I would enjoy ice fishing?"

I haven't fished at all since I was small enough to own a Snoopy fishing pole. As I recall, I spent most of that fishing trip playing with the lures, my pole wedged into some rocks while I ignored it. And the only fish I caught was so small, my dad left it on the hook as bait. 

I do have a philosophy of getting outside in pretty much any weather. In warm weather you may find me outside and stationary at the pool or beach. But in cold weather, I tend to move, which really helps with staying warm. I run and hike. I do not sit outside in the cold.

But now, the safest way to be around other people, in person, is outside. It's getting colder and darker, so a visit on the porch doesn't sound as inviting as it did a few weeks ago. I was bracing myself for a winter of limited face to face interactions with other humans. Then I remembered ice fishing. It suddenly looks more appealing. 

I'll get a line and you get a pole...

Image from TV show Letterkenny. https://www.tv-eh.com/2017/06/29/letterkenny-introduces-new-characters-in-season-3/ 

Kitty High Five

 

Penelope declining to give me a high five

In the spring, before all the schools closed, I was observing one of my students at an elementary school. I was there until the end of the day and then stayed a few extra minutes so I wouldn't get stuck in the dismissal traffic.

Some students came to the library to wait for their bus to be called, and in what seemed to be a routine, they took over the computer and SMART board and played Go Noodle videos. What tickled me about this was that the students just watched the videos rather than joining into the movements. (Getting kids moving, is kind of the point of Go Noodle.)

Kids would take turns requesting favorite videos and up they would go. Until someone selected Kitty High Five. Many of the kids were actually moving to this one, giving the various suggested high fives. When the video said to give the teacher a high five, one of the girls came up to me with her hand up. I high fived her. (Couldn't leave her hanging!)

My student looked over at me. "You touched a kid! They have germs. Especially on their hands. Here's the hand sanitizer."

After having a toddler cough directly into my face after story time in the public library, watching my elementary school students pulling loose teeth during library class, and surviving all the plagues my own children brought home from daycare I had a pretty cavalier attitude about protecting myself from kid germs and a lot of faith in my now quite hearty immune system. High fiving this fifth grader I had just met was no problem. 

I miss visiting my students in their schools and seeing all the great work they are doing first hand. I miss seeing their students. I miss high fives. 

I'll play myself out with Kitty High Five. 

Platform

I have been seeing others with platforms take a stand and make a statement about dismantling white supremacy. And I feel at times, "what can I do?" 

I have been thinking about it, and I have platforms. They may not seem like much compared to some others, but they are places where I have influence in the world and can try to make a difference.

My research. I research reality (true, personal, edgy) storytelling. This form of storytelling is especially well suited to sharing stories that make white people a little uncomfortable, in a way that we need to be. I can continue this research. Continue to advocate for reality storytelling. Explore how we can use the model of reality storytelling to encourage more brave conversations in other areas of life.

My classroom. I teach school librarians. I already address serving diverse populations but can do more to challenge assumptions and have brave conversations in our classes.

My kids. I have difficult conversations with them. I have in the past. We're having them now. We'll have more. Not just "be a decent person." But "you might have biases you don't even realize you have." "Listen to your friends who have different experiences from yours." "If you are told you are doing something offensive, learn from it and do better."

My self. No one wants to think that they are biased. You can't get rid of biases by ignoring them though (and certainly not by excusing them!). You have to confront them. So I try. I'm listening. I'm learning about myself. And I'm constantly trying to do better.

I don't know if sharing this is the right thing to do. I guess I hope that if there are others like me who wonder how they can help, perhaps you can look at your own life and see that you may have more platforms than you think.

If there are people who have the energy and inclination to help me do what I'm doing, I'll accept resources on using storytelling, teaching, talks with children to dismantle white supremacy.

I care. I'm trying. If I'm doing it wrong, and you want to tell me that, that's okay too. I'll learn. And I'll do better.

Quarantine in the Wilderness

On Fat Tuesday as I was walking with Virginia home from after school, she told me she wanted to give something up for Lent. Her music teacher had talked to the class about Mardi Gras and Lent, and Virginia wanted to participate.

As a Unitarian Universalist, I wanted to encourage her religious exploration, but I also wanted to make sure she knew what Lent was and why she was giving up something. So we talked about it. I read her a couple of the descriptions of Jesus in the wilderness from the Gospels. And I told her about my experiences with Lent.

I gave up things a few times, including the time I gave up most meat and then continued to be a quasi-vegetarian for four years. But I did mention to her that the wilderness has held more meaning for me than the giving up of a thing. I told her a bit about my trip into the wilderness. She decided to give up chocolate milk.

* * *

In the fall, after running the Run Whitewater half marathon, I asked Virginia if she wanted to start training with me on Saturdays. Since I had no long races planned in the next few months, it was a good time for me to lower my mileage and then train back up. Virginia agreed. It didn't actually take us all that long to get back to 12 mile runs on Saturdays. Now we've worked into a rhythm where we alternate between running one Saturday and hiking the next. When snow still covered the ground this was a good way for us to get on trails without having to run in ankle deep (or deeper) snow. We were signed up for a half marathon trail run this spring that has recently been cancelled. 

Our hikes have usually been shorter, 3-5 miles, and on the little bit of trail right in town. This Saturday, now a bit stir crazy, and excited to get on trails without snow, we drove a few miles down the highway to the nearest access to the Ice Age Trail. We hiked a section that was a little over 4.5 miles one way. We brought our lunch and were out a good chunk of the day, hiking out and back. I hadn't realized how much I have missed rugged forest trails since we moved from Chapel Hill. 

It looks like I managed to bring Virginia into the wilderness with me this Lent. As I was thinking this, I realized how much time I've spent on trails or just running alone in the last several years. I wasn't a runner back in college when I spent my day in the wilderness. Usually if I spent a long time outside it was reading by the pool or lake. Now spending a day in the wilderness might be normal for me. How beautiful that the wilderness, that seems to be a theme running through my life, has become so much of my life. 

I run alone less now that Virginia is with me on Saturdays. But I don't miss that time I previously had to myself. (As an introvert, I find this kind of amazing.) Virginia truly enjoys running and hiking with me. And, at her request, we don't listen to our audio books. We talk. We talk for hours about all kinds of things. I still can't believe such a child exists and that she is mine. It is wondrous what we find in the wilderness. 

* * *

During this pandemic, while everyone is more or less quarantined at home, I see introverts joking, "I've prepared all my life for this." And extroverts saying, "Check on your extrovert friends. We're not okay!" 

I could do with a little more alone time. I'm spending a lot of time in a house that three other people (and a cat) live in. I must work in this house, while also trying to make sure my kids do their school work. (If I'm honest. John has done most of the heavy lifting on this. But the kids are still distracting and can be overstimulating.)

I think longingly of the spring break I spent alone in a cabin, writing my dissertation. There was such peace. Such calm. Such singularity of purpose. My brain was quiet, but also focused, and efficient. 

But I've learned this lesson before as well. The wilderness is not always pristine nature, away from all other humans. Sometimes it's a mall you are trapped in. Or a house. The wilderness is everywhere. And it can be human, and mundane. 

As always, peace comes with choosing to be here. And, when the time comes, choosing to go back to the wider wilderness of life.