It Is Written

So does anyone ever actually write anything anymore? Not type, but write - in longhand? I believe I read recently that some educators were recommending that cursive writing no longer be taught in school. Could that be true? 

I "wrote" [actually I "typed"] a letter to a friend the other day. I knew it was going to be a long letter and I didn't feel like writing it out. I hate to make mistakes and then have to cross out words. You don't have to do that with word processors. So, we tweet, text, post on Facebook and comment on blogs; we email, communicate online with people we know and people we don't know. Handwritten notes, even thank you notes? Please! An email will do. Some people even have their names printed on Christmas cards. They don't even include a personal handwritten "Merry Christmas".

I thought about this recently because I'm in a Bible study on the New Testament book of James and one of our assignments over the course of the study is to write out in longhand the entire book of James. Now it's only 5 relatively short chapters. It's not like we were asked to do this exercise with the Psalms or anything! I do a little bit each week. I'm not rushing, but I'm not exactly being meticulous either, and yes, I have crossed out one mistake already! Rats!! 

What has made this exercise especially interesting is the fact that there is an exhibit in town called "Passages". Coinciding with the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible, this is an exhibit tracing the history of the Bible as it exists today. It includes such antiquities as Torah scrolls, early Biblical papyri and manuscripts. Highlights of the exhibit are a fragment of the Dead Sea Scroll, some of the earliest surviving scriptures in Greek manuscripts, a Wycliffe New Testament and early rare translations from many countries prior to the presence of movable typeset printing in the west. There is a full-scale reproduction of Gutenberg's printing press, a first edition of "Imitation of Christ" by Thomas a Kempis, a handwritten letter by Martin Luther, and many other manuscripts, rare books and first edition Bibles.

Equally fascinating is the fact that the exhibit includes interactive rooms from many different periods of history where young and old alike can try their hand at scribal writing, copying scripture by candlelight; and typesetting. [This is a brief overview of the Passages exhibit and I encourage you to check it out on-line if you would like to know more.] 

I'm looking forward to seeing the exhibit and I'm even more excited for my grandchildren to see it. I want them to know the painstaking effort and commitment that went into recording and preserving the spoken word before there was such a thing as a printing press, much less a computer. With any luck, maybe cursive writing will be taught and practiced for at least another generation or two. 

About Those New Year's Resolutions

No, I haven't broken any of my resolutions - yet, but I have had to re-think them.  It's amazing how much life can change in just a few weeks.  What seemed so important just before Christmas, now takes a backseat to other more pressing concerns. One child gets sick, one loses his job and another almost loses his as well.  Lots of reasons to be on my knees these days.  But in the midst of bad news comes happiness too as I learn that I am finally going to be the "Mother of the Groom" sometime later this year!! So back to those New Year's Resolutions . . .

One of them was to "spend less".  That will be important right up until the time we start having to help pay for a wedding!!  Another was to "eat less".  Now can I just say that this particular resolution has become, as it must, my only real goal for 2012!  If a son's wedding can't motivate me nothing can, right? 

I'm sharing this, not because I intend to keep a weight loss journal here. [I know you're relieved about that.]  But I do need all the encouragement I can get - even if it's just from my imaginary friends out there on the Internet. Writing about this just might be the one way I can be accountable to, well, to myself.   So I may share some insights and some milestones, some stumbling blocks and some tips.  Who knows, I may even share some recipes! But don't worry, the one thing I won't share - pictures!!

Resolved . . .

Have you made any New Year's resolutions yet? I know, it's not even Christmas, but I have to spend at least as much time pondering what resolutions I want to make as it takes me to break those resolutions - about a week.

Last year I had a three page list of resolutions.  I remember exactly 3 of them: read more, call my good friends regularly and get more sleep. I do think I've worked on that last one most diligently.

I'm pretty sure that another one had to do with losing weight and getting in better shape.  After all, what self-respecting American woman doesn't have that on her to-do list every year? This year I'm paring down my list considerably: spend less, eat less and get more sleep - hey, I've heard that the sleep thing is really important!

Along the same lines as a list of resolutions for the New Year is another list that has become popular in the last few years, a "Bucket List." Have you made one of those?  I only have one recommendation, make this list when you are young and stand a better than even chance of accomplishing the things on your list.  It's not that there aren't some wild and crazy things I'd like to do at my advanced age, but I realize that the chance of doing most of them is rapidly decreasing.

But I'll share a couple of mine with you. I'd like to go on a cruise - my DH wants to go to Alaska, but I don't care where the boat is going as long as it brings me back to dry land eventually. I'd also like to drive across the USofA, and I'd like to take my grandchildren someplace they've never been before - an adventure for all of us.  See, those things aren't too wild and crazy.  Once upon a time I did want to parachute out of an airplane but not so much now.  I consider that one definite advantage of getting older - getting wiser!

Time, Time, Time

I am a time-waster. I admit it. I can sit down at the computer to check e-mail and 30 minutes later, after several games of Free Cell, finally get around to the task at hand. I can always find something to do to keep from doing what needs to be done. There's another word for that. Now what is it? Hmm?

It doesn't help matters that I have a somewhat "addictive" personality [did I mention Free Cell] and the things I find myself addicted to are those time-wasters like crossword puzzles and before that sudoku; Twitter and before that Facebook; and my newest on-line addiction, "Pinterest" - oh my, so many things to see and do there!

My DH can tell you about all of the hobbies I've been "addicted" to over the years:  cross-stitching, smocking, knitting, wreath-making, sewing, photography, and worst of all, shopping [not technically a hobby huh?] I have closets full of the remnants of those former "hobbies." My latest hobby is card-making. It's all the rage, and if you don't believe me, check out Pinterest. I can tell you that I have made all of our Christmas cards this year. I also make birthday cards, Thanksgiving cards, etc.

The best thing I can say about all these hobbies is that they are an outlet for my creativity. There is definitely satisfaction in that. And many of my hobbies have led to hand-made gifts which have saved money over the years - not sure how the math works out though when you take into account the money spent on materials, etc. Let's just say that the people at Michael's and Hobby Lobby know my name!

The worst thing I can say about these hobbies is that they give me an excuse to not do the things that need to be done, or the things that would be more edifying. For example, I don't read books as much as I did at one time. I miss that. I don't cook as much. The DH misses that! My Mother would say, "Why can't you be addicted to something like house-cleaning?"

Oh yes. Now I remember that other word. I believe it is procrastination which in psychology "refers to the act of replacing high-priority actions with tasks of low-priority, and thus putting off important tasks to a later time." (Wikipedia) Now there are a whole lot more psychological definitions of, justifications for and baggage resulting from procrastination, but we don't need to get into that.

The funny thing is that the older I get, the more I think about time itself. How precious it is, how finite and how fleeting and how much I want, no, need to be a good steward of the time I have remaining. And of course as my obsession with obituaries shows [see earlier post] I am keenly aware of  how uncertain the future is. So you'd think that I would not allow myself to waste any time, right? Well, it turns out that there is a physiological reason for my addiction to the Internet, et. al. Via a great article on this topic by Betty Duffy I read about a book by David J. Linden called The Compass of Pleasure: How Our Brains Make Fatty Foods, Orgasm, Exercise, Marijuana, Generosity, Vodka, Learning, and Gambling Feel So Good. Linden and Duffy do a much better job of writing about this important topic than I ever could. I especially liked what Duffy had to say about the spiritual aspect of focusing on external stimuli for pleasure. She actually makes the point that the absence of pleasure, or suffering if you will, has merit and benefit to our lives and that our very survival depends on it!  Go read her article and let me know what you think.

In the meantime I'll just be right here playing a game of Free Cell.....     

November - A Time To Remember

It's still officially fall I guess, but with the leaves quickly falling and Thanksgiving right around the corner (Yikes, that's next week!!) it's almost time to turn the calendar to that last page - and we all know how quickly December will fly by.

Growing up I remember being aware that Thanksgiving was a big darn deal, as important as Christmas if you must know. I'm not sure if this was true for other families, but I believe that it was. Maybe my parents, as part of the generation that grew up during the Depression and fought in World War II, were more sentimental about home and family. They married young and left home to start their own families. Many of them spent years separated from their families while serving in the armed forces far from home. Let's face it, today's young people are more likely to be living at home and delaying marriage.

From Norman Rockwell's iconic Saturday Evening Post cover pictures of families celebrating Thanksgiving, to the ubiquitous "made-for-TV-Coming-Home-For-Thanksgiving" movies, it appears that this uniquely American holiday has more meaning for us that we might like to admit.

It is a holiday that harkens back to our very beginnings as a settlement and later as a nation. It's a holiday that puts us in touch with the agrarian roots of our ancestors, though we've long since stopped growing our own food for the most part. And it is a holiday that is, at its very heart, an acknowledgement of God's grace. As Rebecca Harding Davis puts it, "For, after all, put it as we may to ourselves, we are all of us from birth to death guests at a table which we did not spread.  The sun, the earth, love, friends, our very breath are parts of the banquet.... Shall we think of the day as a chance to come nearer to our Host, and to find out something of Him who has fed us so long?"

I hope I have instilled in my children the importance of remembering, of family and home and of faith. Thanksgiving is not just a day on the calendar as we all know. It is, in fact, a state of mind that can and should be turned into an action word. One thing I do believe is that gratitude is an attitude that grows stronger as we grow older. So there is always hope for the next generation.

Autumn Leaves . . . or Does It?

Wow! Snow in October - from North Carolina to New Jersey and New England. That is what I love about the weather; unless you're a meteorologist by profession or read the Farmers' Almanac religiously, the cliche is true - there is no predicting the weather.

Each year we anticipate the seasons changing, but we can't pin the exact time to a date on the calendar. The early frost or snowfall, the spring ice storm, whether we'll have a white Christmas in the south, when the fall leaves will be at their peak - are all reminders that we don't control the weather.

When I was younger I "had to" watch the weather report on the late news before going to bed. In truth though, the only thing affected by the weather was my commute [which I still had to endure] or my wardrobe choice. But, of course, I grumbled and complained about bad weather like many people do.

These days I don't pay much attention to weather reports, well, unless there is a weather "event" like a hurricane or ice storm predicted.  But really, is there anything I can do to change the weather? Nope. I can find out how hot or cold it is by going out on the back porch to feed the dog. I don't go to many parades or picnics anymore, and I've lived through enough droughts to actually be thankful for rain.

I try to enjoy each day as it comes. I don't [or try not to] complain about the weather. I appreciate all of the seasons, but don't try to anticipate what each will be like or when they will arrive. Of course I have a favorite season; doesn't everyone? Mine is fall. I do love the colors, the cool crisp mornings but still warm afternoons.  The recent October snowfall may signal an early end to autumn in parts of the country, but not in Atlanta. With any luck, I will get to enjoy my favorite season a bit longer, but who knows how much longer? Not I. I can live with that!

Country Roads

I just returned from a trip into my past or more accurately my Mother’s past.  A visit with cousins in Louisiana led to a trip down some back roads in Washington Parish which led to a remote Baptist church and a small cemetery and a surprise.

Mother says I’ve been to the cemetery before, but I have no recollection of that.  My great grandparents and some of their siblings and children are buried there, and I amazed my family by locating the cemetery on the internet via my iPhone and accessing a website that actually listed all of the people buried there. 

There are thousands of such cemeteries accessible to varying degrees via country roads in every county and state in North America. This particular cemetery, Sunny Hill, is maintained by the descendents of another family whose name appears on many of the headstones. The sad truth is that too many small family cemeteries are not maintained and thus likely to be overgrown and lost forever.

Does it matter if they are lost or found?  Maybe not.  I suppose I’m interested in such things because of my love of history and dabbling in genealogy, but there was something compelling about standing in the yard between that cemetery and the small white country church that my Mother remembered attending as a child. [She says it used to be a lot bigger church back then!]
 

As we stood there she started talking again about the Sunny Hill community of her childhood, pointing out where the Methodist church and the general store used to be, where the school she attended was located.  She reminisced about walking to school for one year, first grade, because her Daddy wanted her to go to the school he went to when he was growing up.  Funny thing was that he made Mother’s little sister accompany her on the one mile walk, so my Aunt Pansy sat through first grade that year and then had to go the next year too.  Oh, and by the way, I’m not sure what a five year old could have done to protect a six year old had something bad happened to them on the way to school. But those were different times.

We had piled in the car to begin our trip back to the present, but the past wasn’t through with us yet.  As Mother pointed to a wooded area across the road from the church and told us, “The school was right there,” my cousin said, “I see something.  It looks like a shack.”  Sure enough we got out of the car and peering into the woods could just make out the building, or what was left of it. 

Just as my cousin was promising to come back and explore the area later, we discovered a path that was more or less clear so we all traipsed into the woods, right up to the dilapidated two story structure where my grandfather had gone to school and played basketball, and where my Mother had attended first grade. 

There wasn’t much left there to see, but there was a broad staircase, walls, parts of the floor and the roof, and somehow I had no trouble picturing my Mother there. 

For good or ill, the past lives and is always part of our present.  For me, it is all good.  I think John Denver said/sang it best: “Country roads take me home . . . “