We've had another full, fun weekend around these parts. The rust bucket Durango retired at the Ford dealership Friday, and Brandon and I did a little happy dance that it did NOT begin belching smoke in the parking lot when they started it up. We pulled away with a 2004 Ford Expedition, pleased with our purchase and resigned to investing our money in a small oil field in Iran.
Friday night is Sarah-does-not-cook-if-the-husband-is-out-of-town night, so we ordered a small pizza for the kiddos, and Henry and I ate avocados, leftover roasted carrots, and bananas. I think - some combination like that, anyway. And after the kids went to bed, I watched the Ashland University women's basketball team play in the NCAA Division II national championship game with some friends here at the house. They lost, but boy, what a game!
After Pancake Saturday morning (now modified a smidge with these fantasmatic Paleo Pancakes for me and Henry and regular ones for Lyd and Elvis until we're out of pancake mix), we pulled out of the driveway in the new tank and headed to Mansfield for some spring shopping at Kohl's. After seven solid years of maternity bathing suits or post-baby swimsuits, I bought with confidence a swimsuit that is actually cute. The kids helped pick out the swimsuit. Kohl's is a ridiculously dangerous place to shop, because EVERYTHING'S ON SALE, which makes me feel like I can buy more than I actually need. So... we got Easter dresses, Easter shirts, shorts and pants for skinny-dad, and presents for my mom's 50th birthday. There's a good chance some of the stuff I bought will be returned later this week, since I found about a dozen Easter-appropriate shirts for the boys when we came home.
The other things I found when we came home were ants. Loads and loads of ants piled up on the floor in the kitchen. Apparently I dripped something from breakfast onto the floor and didn't get it cleaned up. Their congregation on the floor made extermination a breeze, though, and I haven't seen another one since. I'm sure everyone else has noticed the alarming abundance of insects out already this year. We don't usually have ant issues until summer. It's March (in case you missed it). Looks like we're in for a buggy year.
To sum up the rest of the weekend, there was a visit to the bookstore, a symphony event at the university, a trip to Medina for dinner with my folks, and church this morning. I'm hoping to spend the rest of the afternoon finishing up the clothes sorting and getting the house in order before the work week. We're heading to D.C. for a long weekend over spring break (woo hoo!), and I'd like to have most things in order before the week gets going. So, I'm planning on trying blackened chicken and guacamole with some sweet potato wedges for dinner tonight, something quick to prep and cook without a whole lot of attention.
It's been a full weekend, for sure, the kind of weekend that makes you feel like the time was well-spent. We milked every minute.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Book One - Best Spiritual Writing 2012
Well, I finally finished a book. It took me a while, mostly because I've been a lazy reader, but also because this fine book was just thick with the stuff that gets you thinking. The Best Spiritual Writing 2012 is a diverse and stimulating collection that includes both poetry and essay, work about wonder and awe, politics and chapels, evil, light, Cesar Chavez and the Dalai Lama, Judaism after the Holocaust, apparitions and visitations, and much much more.
The advantage to an anthology like this and the other Best Ofs that come out each year is that it's likely the reader hasn't really thought much about the majority of the topics, at least not recently. I can't say I've considered how to reconcile faith in God after the Holocaust as a Jew. And besides those things that I haven't thought about there are the subjects I wouldn't have even known about if not for the selections made by the editor. I love this kind of stretching, this kind of push to understand more of the world, spiritual and otherwise.
I was particularly moved by Tony Hiss's "Wonderlust", originally published in American Scholar, and Billy Collins's poem, "Gold" has stuck with me. Also "A Chapel Is Where You Can Hear Something Beating Below Your Heart" by Pico Iyer (from Portland). And "Rescuing Evil" by Ron Rosenbaum, from First Things is an extremely accurate reflection on what happens when we eliminate the concept of evil and write it off to all sorts of other things, as if crimes and violence are biological and not choices we make. The essay ends with a powerful line I'd hate to share and give away too much of what is so good about the work.
So there you have it - the first of ten books I intend to read for 2012.
In other news, I think I'm going to give the poem-a-day in National Poetry Month (April) a go once more. At the least, I'll get back into the habit of thinking poetically, right?
The advantage to an anthology like this and the other Best Ofs that come out each year is that it's likely the reader hasn't really thought much about the majority of the topics, at least not recently. I can't say I've considered how to reconcile faith in God after the Holocaust as a Jew. And besides those things that I haven't thought about there are the subjects I wouldn't have even known about if not for the selections made by the editor. I love this kind of stretching, this kind of push to understand more of the world, spiritual and otherwise.
I was particularly moved by Tony Hiss's "Wonderlust", originally published in American Scholar, and Billy Collins's poem, "Gold" has stuck with me. Also "A Chapel Is Where You Can Hear Something Beating Below Your Heart" by Pico Iyer (from Portland). And "Rescuing Evil" by Ron Rosenbaum, from First Things is an extremely accurate reflection on what happens when we eliminate the concept of evil and write it off to all sorts of other things, as if crimes and violence are biological and not choices we make. The essay ends with a powerful line I'd hate to share and give away too much of what is so good about the work.
So there you have it - the first of ten books I intend to read for 2012.
In other news, I think I'm going to give the poem-a-day in National Poetry Month (April) a go once more. At the least, I'll get back into the habit of thinking poetically, right?
Saturday, March 10, 2012
First World Problems: An Encounter with Infomercials
Excerpts from tonight's airing of THE PRICE OF SEX: A documentary on human trafficking.
"I was locked inside without a passport. I was inside all the time. I wasn't allowed out. Even the windows were shut. We were always working. Sometimes 50 clients a day. I have the same thoughts now that I did then: I wish I'd never been born. I'd be better off dead than living like this."
Does the sun make your deck or patio so unbearingly hot that you can't use it? Are you stuck inside on beautiful sunny days? I discovered that a SunSetter retractable awning is the perfect solution, and here's why...Call now, and save!
"'It was the Muslim holiday of Ramadan and the Turkish men are not allowed to have sex with anyone but their wives. So we had no clients. I woke up, got dressed. I went to the balcony and the door was open. I went down the pipe. But I didn't get very far.' She jumped, falling three floors. When she woke up, Jenya couldn't feel anything below her waist. She spent nearly a month in the hospital but before she could receive surgery, the pimps were allowed to take her back to the brothel... no one cared that she was partially paralyzed from the fall, or that she defecated on herself. The clients continued coming, it was business as usual."
Just when you think you have enough space, your things grow. It gets cramped, cluttered, and out of control. But now there's a smart solution for storing too much stuff and not enough space. SpaceBag Vacuum Seal storage bags... Everything stays compressed, AND protected. Guaranteed to keep out dirt, bugs, and moisture.
"There were girls who had been there for six months, a year, three years... They got used to it. What's to like there? That everyone violates and tortures you? A man gets on top of you, does his business, gets off, and leaves. It's pure evil. Plain and simple."
Oh, dear. Oh, dear! Ooh, dear. I'm not exactly sure what happened here last night. I was out helping people save money on car insurance. Geico, fifteen minutes could save you fifteen percent or more on car insurance.
"As you can see, on all the corners are the police, the pimps, and the girls... When you go into the brothels, what's the first thing you see? First? Meat... But that's not the right question. Not the first but the last... the last thing you see... is pain... Those girls are new entries. They're so young. Yeah, no more than 20... Fifteen years ago Erina was trafficked to Athens. Men aren't the only ones to blame. As the saying goes: If you lift your skirt, the man will come. I can't be alone. I can't. I gotta talk to beat the blues. When you feel sad, what do you do? What do I do? I cry and cry, go out for a smoke... I think... But mostly I go and lie down so I can stop thinking. I offered to take Erina back to Bulgaria, to the children she left behind. She turned my offer down."
The sun used to make our outdoor deck and patio space so hot and uncomfortable you couldn't use it. But then we discovered the SunSetter retractable awning! Our SunSetter retractable awning opens and closes in 60 seconds. It keeps our patio about 20 degrees cooler! It provides instant shade--and instant protection--from the sun's harmful rays. And our SunSetter cost under $700. But now, you can get your SunSetter for as little as $499 when you call now to get this special $200 certificate...Life is better under a SunSetter!
"Who were the clients? Who? Arabs, Moldovans, Russians, British, Americans, everyone. Everyone. Hindus, Pakistans. From the lowest class to the highest. Understand? ..."
"Men here prefer the new girls who have been used less. Their bosses slip drugs and ecstasy into their drinks so that the girls are flirtier and more fun. // What? Am I saying too much?..."
"Criminals avoid prosecution, it's the women who bear the burden. Alessia chose to deal with the consequences. 'I will tell my son. They'll say, 'Oh, your mom was like that.' Of course now he doens't understand but when he's grown up, I'll be ashamed.'"
Sometimes your dog really is your best friend, but not when you are driving around a bend. You tell him to stay, but all he wants to do is play! Introducing the Click N Stay! The ultimate solution to keeping your dog in his seat, so you can be safe and secure in yours...
"The Price of Sex" is written, directed and produced by Mimi Chakarova. Visit www.priceofsex.org to find out how you can help.
"I was locked inside without a passport. I was inside all the time. I wasn't allowed out. Even the windows were shut. We were always working. Sometimes 50 clients a day. I have the same thoughts now that I did then: I wish I'd never been born. I'd be better off dead than living like this."
Does the sun make your deck or patio so unbearingly hot that you can't use it? Are you stuck inside on beautiful sunny days? I discovered that a SunSetter retractable awning is the perfect solution, and here's why...Call now, and save!
"'It was the Muslim holiday of Ramadan and the Turkish men are not allowed to have sex with anyone but their wives. So we had no clients. I woke up, got dressed. I went to the balcony and the door was open. I went down the pipe. But I didn't get very far.' She jumped, falling three floors. When she woke up, Jenya couldn't feel anything below her waist. She spent nearly a month in the hospital but before she could receive surgery, the pimps were allowed to take her back to the brothel... no one cared that she was partially paralyzed from the fall, or that she defecated on herself. The clients continued coming, it was business as usual."
Just when you think you have enough space, your things grow. It gets cramped, cluttered, and out of control. But now there's a smart solution for storing too much stuff and not enough space. SpaceBag Vacuum Seal storage bags... Everything stays compressed, AND protected. Guaranteed to keep out dirt, bugs, and moisture.
"There were girls who had been there for six months, a year, three years... They got used to it. What's to like there? That everyone violates and tortures you? A man gets on top of you, does his business, gets off, and leaves. It's pure evil. Plain and simple."
Oh, dear. Oh, dear! Ooh, dear. I'm not exactly sure what happened here last night. I was out helping people save money on car insurance. Geico, fifteen minutes could save you fifteen percent or more on car insurance.
"As you can see, on all the corners are the police, the pimps, and the girls... When you go into the brothels, what's the first thing you see? First? Meat... But that's not the right question. Not the first but the last... the last thing you see... is pain... Those girls are new entries. They're so young. Yeah, no more than 20... Fifteen years ago Erina was trafficked to Athens. Men aren't the only ones to blame. As the saying goes: If you lift your skirt, the man will come. I can't be alone. I can't. I gotta talk to beat the blues. When you feel sad, what do you do? What do I do? I cry and cry, go out for a smoke... I think... But mostly I go and lie down so I can stop thinking. I offered to take Erina back to Bulgaria, to the children she left behind. She turned my offer down."
The sun used to make our outdoor deck and patio space so hot and uncomfortable you couldn't use it. But then we discovered the SunSetter retractable awning! Our SunSetter retractable awning opens and closes in 60 seconds. It keeps our patio about 20 degrees cooler! It provides instant shade--and instant protection--from the sun's harmful rays. And our SunSetter cost under $700. But now, you can get your SunSetter for as little as $499 when you call now to get this special $200 certificate...Life is better under a SunSetter!
"Who were the clients? Who? Arabs, Moldovans, Russians, British, Americans, everyone. Everyone. Hindus, Pakistans. From the lowest class to the highest. Understand? ..."
"Men here prefer the new girls who have been used less. Their bosses slip drugs and ecstasy into their drinks so that the girls are flirtier and more fun. // What? Am I saying too much?..."
"Criminals avoid prosecution, it's the women who bear the burden. Alessia chose to deal with the consequences. 'I will tell my son. They'll say, 'Oh, your mom was like that.' Of course now he doens't understand but when he's grown up, I'll be ashamed.'"
Sometimes your dog really is your best friend, but not when you are driving around a bend. You tell him to stay, but all he wants to do is play! Introducing the Click N Stay! The ultimate solution to keeping your dog in his seat, so you can be safe and secure in yours...
"The Price of Sex" is written, directed and produced by Mimi Chakarova. Visit www.priceofsex.org to find out how you can help.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Hello and Goodbye, AWP
Hello, home. Hello, dog, whose behavior seems miraculously better after a week apart. Hello, thermostat set at just the right temperature. Hello, eastern standard time and your accommodating capacity to keep my baby asleep until a godlier hour than central time. Hello, taller, smarter, better enunciating children-- has it only been four days?? Hello, patient and dessert-producing grandparents, and thank you. Hello, town whose population might know the name of one contemporary poet (besides me, ah ah ah). Hello, DVR and free wireless. Hello, sweet potatoes and grilled chicken and food I didn't have to order or inquire about the nutritional content. Hello, eight dollar bottle, and goodbye eight dollar glass, of wine. Hello, open space to breathe. Hello, mud and trees and snow and tulips pushing through, and goodbye black and wet asphalt, icy, breath-sucking wind, marble, concrete, glass, concrete, and concrete.
Goodbye, friends from other places, friends who can carry a conversation about truth and narrative, farms and marketing, about poets and writers and panels. Goodbye, five hour ride across Indiana. Goodbye, Sirius XM radio. Goodbye, husband, and time alone (almost) with you. Goodbye four days with no pick-up or drop-off or gymnastics or homework or babysitter. Goodbye, ethnic variety. Goodbye, writers I know and writers who might know me (ha ha ha). Goodbye, high-heeled dress shoes, black-and-gray wardrobe, standing and talking all day, and hello, clogs and blue jeans and t-shirts. Goodbye, extroverted Sarah, and hello, introverted Sarah. Hello alarm clock. Goodbye "going out for a drink" and "where do you want to eat tonight" and "it's just a few blocks away" and "we can split a cab" and "should we take the train?" and "I think we'll walk" and "do you see the shuttle yet?" and "sorry I missed you!" and "so good to see you!" and "see you next year!" and "Brrrrrrrr!" Goodbye, Chicago union workers picking up my empty boxes and discarded discount subscription flyers. Goodbye, brand-new rental Chrysler Town and Country with the video rear-view monitor, and hello, Ford Fiesta, Dodge Durango. Goodbye, toll roads. Goodbye, AWP, goodbye.
Goodbye, friends from other places, friends who can carry a conversation about truth and narrative, farms and marketing, about poets and writers and panels. Goodbye, five hour ride across Indiana. Goodbye, Sirius XM radio. Goodbye, husband, and time alone (almost) with you. Goodbye four days with no pick-up or drop-off or gymnastics or homework or babysitter. Goodbye, ethnic variety. Goodbye, writers I know and writers who might know me (ha ha ha). Goodbye, high-heeled dress shoes, black-and-gray wardrobe, standing and talking all day, and hello, clogs and blue jeans and t-shirts. Goodbye, extroverted Sarah, and hello, introverted Sarah. Hello alarm clock. Goodbye "going out for a drink" and "where do you want to eat tonight" and "it's just a few blocks away" and "we can split a cab" and "should we take the train?" and "I think we'll walk" and "do you see the shuttle yet?" and "sorry I missed you!" and "so good to see you!" and "see you next year!" and "Brrrrrrrr!" Goodbye, Chicago union workers picking up my empty boxes and discarded discount subscription flyers. Goodbye, brand-new rental Chrysler Town and Country with the video rear-view monitor, and hello, Ford Fiesta, Dodge Durango. Goodbye, toll roads. Goodbye, AWP, goodbye.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
A few verses for Chardon...
"My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of
death," he said to them, "Stay here and keep watch." (Mark 14:34) "I
have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart." (Romans 9:2) "Why
did I ever come out of the womb to see trouble and sorrow and to end my
days in shame?" (Jeremiah 20:18) "How long must I wrestle with my
thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my
enemy triumph over me?" (Psalm 13:2)
"...and those the Lord has rescued will return. They will enter Zion with singing, everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away." Isaiah 35:10
"a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance." - Ecclesiastes 3:4
"For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning... You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart my sing your praises and not be silent. Lord my God, I will praise you forever." - Psalm 30:5, 10-12
"...and those the Lord has rescued will return. They will enter Zion with singing, everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away." Isaiah 35:10
"a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance." - Ecclesiastes 3:4
"For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning... You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart my sing your praises and not be silent. Lord my God, I will praise you forever." - Psalm 30:5, 10-12
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Praying for Enemies
The psalms are filled with great messages of praise and worship, of love and adoration, fear and awe, woe and lament. They are also filled with pleas to dump burning coals on enemies' heads, to throw enemies into miry pits. In as many words, the psalmist wants his enemies to burn in hell.
I wouldn't bring it up if it happened, you know, once or twice. Everyone gets angry at her enemies now and then. But this is a reoccurring theme - over and over, the psalmist says silence my enemies, destroy all my foes. Granted, the psalmist in many of these cases is David, who spent a good part of his life literally running from his enemies, trying to avoid being killed by the king.
As I read through the psalms, every time I come to a verse or psalm about pulverizing my foes, I think to myself, oh boy, here we go again, slay my enemies, destroy my pursuers, burn the evildoers, bury the slanderers, yadda yadda yadda. And then the psalmist says, "But, me, God, well, I am upright and holy and righteous and amazing, so protect me and be near me."
I can be critical of this, but let's be honest. We do this all. the. time. Maybe not in public, but between friends and in our heads, we grumble and mutter curses on the people that drive us crazy.
Rather than roll my eyes at the psalmist and his regular return to complaining about his enemies, I want to keep reading to see how the psalmist deals with his anger, frustration, and fear, and what God does for him through these laments.
It's refreshing to know that God permits us to gripe about our enemies to him, to plea for them to be removed from our lives, and to protect us from our enemies. In the gospels, Jesus pushes the issue even further and calls us to do something entirely other-worldly - love our enemies, and pray for those who persecute us. Prayer is absolutely necessary if we're going to try to love our enemies, and the psalmist models the mode by which we can communicate these things to God.
God might not send your enemies into a miry pit, and he might not change your circumstances, but there's a good chance that by unloading all of your anger, impatience, frustration, and concern at his feet, you'll make room for him to change your heart and give you peace, even in the battle, and maybe some discernment, wisdom, perspective, and eventually, love, to deal well with your enemies.
I wouldn't bring it up if it happened, you know, once or twice. Everyone gets angry at her enemies now and then. But this is a reoccurring theme - over and over, the psalmist says silence my enemies, destroy all my foes. Granted, the psalmist in many of these cases is David, who spent a good part of his life literally running from his enemies, trying to avoid being killed by the king.
As I read through the psalms, every time I come to a verse or psalm about pulverizing my foes, I think to myself, oh boy, here we go again, slay my enemies, destroy my pursuers, burn the evildoers, bury the slanderers, yadda yadda yadda. And then the psalmist says, "But, me, God, well, I am upright and holy and righteous and amazing, so protect me and be near me."
I can be critical of this, but let's be honest. We do this all. the. time. Maybe not in public, but between friends and in our heads, we grumble and mutter curses on the people that drive us crazy.
Rather than roll my eyes at the psalmist and his regular return to complaining about his enemies, I want to keep reading to see how the psalmist deals with his anger, frustration, and fear, and what God does for him through these laments.
It's refreshing to know that God permits us to gripe about our enemies to him, to plea for them to be removed from our lives, and to protect us from our enemies. In the gospels, Jesus pushes the issue even further and calls us to do something entirely other-worldly - love our enemies, and pray for those who persecute us. Prayer is absolutely necessary if we're going to try to love our enemies, and the psalmist models the mode by which we can communicate these things to God.
God might not send your enemies into a miry pit, and he might not change your circumstances, but there's a good chance that by unloading all of your anger, impatience, frustration, and concern at his feet, you'll make room for him to change your heart and give you peace, even in the battle, and maybe some discernment, wisdom, perspective, and eventually, love, to deal well with your enemies.
"Lord, hear my prayer,- Psalm 143
listen to my cry for mercy;
in your faithfulness and righteousness
come to my relief.
Do not bring your servant into judgment,
for no one living is righteous before you.
The enemy pursues me,
he crushes me to the ground;
he makes me dwell in the darkness
like those long dead.
So my spirit grows faint within me;
my heart within me is dismayed.
I remember the days of long ago;
I meditate on all your works
and consider what your hands have done.
I spread out my hands to you;
I thirst for you like a parched land.
Answer me quickly, Lord; my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me
or I will be like those who go down to the pit.
Let the morning bring me
word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I entrust my life.
Rescue me from my enemies,
Lord, for I hide myself in you.
Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God;
may your good Spirit
lead me on level ground.
For your name's sake, Lord,
preserve my life;
in your righteousness,
bring me out of trouble.
In your unfailing love,
silence my enemies;
destroy all my foes,
for I am your servant.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Family Research and Writing
For the last few months, I've been working on researching what life was like in Geauga County during the mid-1800s for an essay I'm trying to write. For some reason, I'm having a hard time with this. There are definitely resources out there, detailed ones, about life in the 1850s, but when I try to imagine life then, I tend to default to Little House on the Prairie. I've known for a long time that my parents' house was built in 1844, if not earlier, and yet all this time I've been imagining people settling in Geauga County and building little lean-to's and ramshackle shacks to live in... not the solid, two-story, more-than-a-century homes that still stand today.
My imagination can't seem to allow for any kind of transition between wilderness without roads or pathways and settlements. I can reach out and imagine being the first to arrive in a place, or one of five original settlers, and I can imagine coming once a lot has been established, but what was it like to be the 20th family to arrive? Did half a dozen friends or brothers or relatives decide to launch out and settle in one area of the county and then bring their families once things were settled, or were there lots of individual pioneers, setting out to make something for themselves, alone? And when five or six fellas finally put down roots and rolled out logs for their homes, how did they receive newcomers? Did they invite the boys from back east to join them? Were they all strangers?
And what drove people west (or midwest) anyway? How did they decide to leave their familial roots in pursuit of more farmland, more wilderness? Did they leave family behind, like we do today, in order to find wealth and success elsewhere?
These are the sorts of questions I keep stumbling over, because I haven't found any real answers yet, at least not about this particular family line. I have names and birth dates, weddings, deaths, and I have the names of towns they left and approximate dates they arrived, but all I have for answers as to motive is hypotheses. I don't know if that's enough to write on - I might just have to guess, develop theories for reasons they left, what they found alluring about this region, what they left behind. And own up to the guesswork.
When I start trying to write about these people, though, I get caught up in the details, afraid to misrepresent a date or intention, afraid to read too far between the lines. Their mom and dad passing away a year before they left New York might not have anything to do with their decision to move to Ohio. Just because I can only find one other brother's name doesn't necessarily mean that was the only one he had. Just because they had babies late in their marriage might not mean they had trouble conceiving. These are all my own conjectures. I'm using my personal experience as a lens through which to interpret their lives, assuming that because we're family, we might have shared these same kinds of experiences, thoughts, and ideas.
But we're family. The shape of my nose and bone structure of my face aren't the only things that have been passed down from generation to generation. Unless there's some significant effort to deviate from what came before, some dissent or disagreement, some major conflict or culture shift, there's a good chance that the beliefs and values I possess were handed down to me from my parents' parents' parents' parents. So is it that far off to assume my great-great-great grandmother might have responded a certain way because that's how I might respond?
These are the dangers about writing about people who are dead. They aren't here to clear up the story. That's also the freedom of it. They aren't here to protest my theories. And writing about people who are living... well, you are certain to only get them in one, maybe two, dimensions, and all through the lens of personal bias and perspective. This portrayal of family is only family as I see it, not necessarily as my brothers might see it, or my grandfather, or my great-great-great grandmother. Which is why it's personal essay, personal memoir. Family and familial roots are important to me, so I want to write about it.
It's just so dang hard. :)
My imagination can't seem to allow for any kind of transition between wilderness without roads or pathways and settlements. I can reach out and imagine being the first to arrive in a place, or one of five original settlers, and I can imagine coming once a lot has been established, but what was it like to be the 20th family to arrive? Did half a dozen friends or brothers or relatives decide to launch out and settle in one area of the county and then bring their families once things were settled, or were there lots of individual pioneers, setting out to make something for themselves, alone? And when five or six fellas finally put down roots and rolled out logs for their homes, how did they receive newcomers? Did they invite the boys from back east to join them? Were they all strangers?
And what drove people west (or midwest) anyway? How did they decide to leave their familial roots in pursuit of more farmland, more wilderness? Did they leave family behind, like we do today, in order to find wealth and success elsewhere?
These are the sorts of questions I keep stumbling over, because I haven't found any real answers yet, at least not about this particular family line. I have names and birth dates, weddings, deaths, and I have the names of towns they left and approximate dates they arrived, but all I have for answers as to motive is hypotheses. I don't know if that's enough to write on - I might just have to guess, develop theories for reasons they left, what they found alluring about this region, what they left behind. And own up to the guesswork.
When I start trying to write about these people, though, I get caught up in the details, afraid to misrepresent a date or intention, afraid to read too far between the lines. Their mom and dad passing away a year before they left New York might not have anything to do with their decision to move to Ohio. Just because I can only find one other brother's name doesn't necessarily mean that was the only one he had. Just because they had babies late in their marriage might not mean they had trouble conceiving. These are all my own conjectures. I'm using my personal experience as a lens through which to interpret their lives, assuming that because we're family, we might have shared these same kinds of experiences, thoughts, and ideas.
But we're family. The shape of my nose and bone structure of my face aren't the only things that have been passed down from generation to generation. Unless there's some significant effort to deviate from what came before, some dissent or disagreement, some major conflict or culture shift, there's a good chance that the beliefs and values I possess were handed down to me from my parents' parents' parents' parents. So is it that far off to assume my great-great-great grandmother might have responded a certain way because that's how I might respond?
These are the dangers about writing about people who are dead. They aren't here to clear up the story. That's also the freedom of it. They aren't here to protest my theories. And writing about people who are living... well, you are certain to only get them in one, maybe two, dimensions, and all through the lens of personal bias and perspective. This portrayal of family is only family as I see it, not necessarily as my brothers might see it, or my grandfather, or my great-great-great grandmother. Which is why it's personal essay, personal memoir. Family and familial roots are important to me, so I want to write about it.
It's just so dang hard. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)