The Way We Get By

The Way We Get By peeks into the selfless lives of three troop greeters, Jerry, Joan and Bill who volunteer their time, love and humor at all hours of the day and night greeting returning troops at the Bangor, Maine airport. Each greeter has their reasons for being on call 24 hours a day and the reasons are stunning and inspirational. 

By the end of this movie I felt like all three of these greeters were part of my family. As each of the greeters struggled with age-related problems, I felt helpless when they felt helpless and hopeful when they felt hopeful. Even when their problems were all-consuming they still got in their cars and went to the airport. Even though they weren’t sure they understood the war or even condoned it, they only cared that the soldiers were warmly welcomed home. Only a hospitalization kept a greeter from getting to the airport. 

At times the soldiers would tell the greeters that they were heroes too, and the greeters simply shrugged the words away and continued shaking hands. They greeted over 900,000 troops and in doing so, lifted thousands of hearts and showed the world that three elderly members of society are just as indispensable as those who protect it.

incensed library patron

While looking for orchestra info in a cd I came across this lovely note from a patron.  It was actually part of the cover art so whoever made it was fairly computer-savvy.

A Big Little Life

Whether or not you have a dog you will immediately feel welcome in Dean Koontz’s memoir about Trixie, his golden retriever. 

Trixie is not just a cuddly retired service pooch who can issue a “sotto voce woof.”  She is a genuine angel with a soft spot for lounging on rafts (“I’m moving through water!  Without swimming!  Brilliant!”), the word ‘nachos’ and pranks galore (including the bucket-bottom move).

Before you have a chance to jump into this book, it will leap into you.   

Favorite quote?

“This may be the primary purpose of dogs: to restore our sense of wonder and to help us maintain it, to make us consider that we should trust our intuition as they trust theirs, and to help us realize that a thing known intuitively can be as real as anything known by material experience.”

like a damn lightbulb

It has been a busy couple of weeks.

I discovered I have a tear in my left knee (totally annoyingly vague, yes I know!), which is really only my second sports injury in 14 years of playing sports, which is just shy of amazing because I have always put 100% of myself into all endeavors, not just sports but everything.  I am hopeful that I will have more answers soon and I can tell you now that I am on the path to recovery because I don't have any time for that doubt malarkey.  I am going to take advantage of the healing time and go to a few poetry readings and cram in extra writing.

I also met Wyatt Townley, the Kansas Poet Laureate.  She did a reading/discussion for the poetry workshop that I facilitate at the library I work for.  Did I tell you that I facilitate a poetry workshop?  I do! And it has been a success!  Wyatt Townley's visit was my way of celebrating a year of successful workshopping.  The poets in my workshop have grown into a cohesive, hard-working and inspirational group.  Wyatt Townley was wise and gentle with poems that blazed quietly.  It was a motivational evening.

My mom flew in a couple days later, and we spent several days packing up my grandmother's house at the lake.  Even though it wasn't the house I lived in as a child, I spent most of my time there and it became a permanent part of who I am. Ask me to share my poems and essays that I have written about it the next time you see me.  And after sorting through memories with my mom, I have so much more to say.

In-between all the packing and sorting we ate lots of good food, visited a few bookstores, and even went to a beer tasting at a library (Not mine of course.  We are cool, yes, but not that cool).

Tea from Blue Koi



Salad from Beer Kitchen (which is my new favorite place and I haven't even tried the beer)



My brother, Rusty aka James, flew in to help with the packing and we had an excellent conversation with my dad.  It was one of those conversations that lit me up from the inside out and I have been walking around like a damn lightbulb, giggling at remembered pieces of the conversation.

Metaphors and the Sacrifices We Make for Them

So is this song morbid, cute or hilarious?

The conversation I have with myself is certainly a little unnerving.

Hannah Jane you are so morbid.

Why? because I like the d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da D-da, d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da D-da, d-da, d-da, d-da, d-da-da part?

Well, yes you idiot because that’s when that poor Mexican dies.

OMG the Mexican part is a little horrifying.  Why does it have to be a Mexican?

You’re the one who likes the song.  Why do you think it’s a Mexican?

Ok, is this my conscience or a shrink?

Who do you want me to be?

Well, I thought I was having an internal debate with myself about why an upstanding character such as myself would like a song like this, and that my conscience was giving me a pep talk.

What if I’m the Mexican?

OMG you are my conscience.  But why were you stealing electricity?

So that I can be a metaphor of love.

Hey you

  Yea you with the book.

LOOK AT ME.  Look at this face.  Can't you see that these ears need scratching?   

Sigh 

f$$$ing books

Dear Autumn,

Thank you for the crisp air that doesn't sag around us in terrible waves of heat.  Thank you for being just cool enough to enjoy longer walks but warm enough to relax in the fountain.  Thank you for Pumpkin Spice Lattes which is code for more drive-thru talky-box visits that result in cookies.  Thank you Autumn for allowing us to cruise around town for most of the day while my humans run errands and strangers kissy-face us through the open car windows.

Sincerely,

Rose & Ella

Let's Pretend This Never Happened

Jenny Lawson's mastery of italics is reason enough to pick up this book. 

Other reasons to read this book:

1. Rambo the OCD raccoon
2. The Post-It Notes chapter which will inspire you to start writing notes to your spouse
3. Secrets that HR is keeping from the rest of us
4. Voldemort & Vaginas & Lightning Bolts
5. Barnaby Jones Pickles, the lovable pug that died and was almost carried away by vultures and how this mirrors Laura Ingalls Wilder and the locusts
6. Constant Editor belittling
7. Plenty of self-deprecation that can sound a little like Jim Gaffigan's whispering-to-self voice

Favorite quote?

"Later we disposed of some of Barnaby Jones Pickles's ashes in the Devil's Backbone where we live, because it's apparently very haunted by Indians and Spanish monks, and I'd like to think it would be less horrifying if people drove up on the ghost of a lone Indian, grudgingly accompanied by a smiling pug who was just so damn happy to see you."

Looking Up

At first the gift to myself was a coffee from a favorite haunt.  

And then I looked up.

The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating

Elisabeth Tova Bailey has a mysterious illness that lasts for many years.  At one point during this illness she is confined to her bed.  She can only sit up or hold a book for minutes at a time.  She has been removed from her beloved farmhouse to a condo in the city so that she can be cared for around the clock.  One day a friend brings Elisabeth a snail that is nestled in a pot of violets.  This is the story of how a snail ferries one woman through countless hours of suffering into a place of wonder-induced healing.

I, too, was swept up in the White-Lipped Forest Snail’s trail of reverence, all at once feeling luminescent with its gooey charm.  The moment the snail emerged from its shell the first day and explored the pot of violets I was completely absorbed.  As the snail nibbled square-shaped holes into unsuspecting scraps of paper and slimed its way into Elisabeth’s vigilant wonder I was breathless with bewilderment and curiosity.

You will gasp and hoot your way through this book as you discover that snails gallop, shoot darts at those they love and inspire biomimicry that may greatly reduce the discomfort of colonoscopies.  You will momentarily forget to breathe as you read the piece about snails offering up their own trails for their loved ones who cannot produce enough slime to propel themselves forward.  And I’m certain you will tell everyone you know about the art of ‘foot drinking’ and snails catching magic carpet rides on leaves.

Elisabeth’s prose is simply magical.  One review brilliantly describes it as "the marriage of science and poetic mysticism." This is not a never-ending mumble of snail trivia.  It is the story of a woman whose life is changed by a snail, and as she illustrates the snail’s impact she decorates the book with stunning interpretations of snail trivia.  Elisabeth also gifts the reader with a plenitude of quotes including the poetry of Billy Collins and Kobayashi Issa and an extensive list of malacology literature with wildly intriguing titles like “Lessons from Snail Tentacles.”  By the end of this book you will be bursting with fondness for gastropods and reading every little nugget of information including her acknowledgements and sources in an effort to never close the book.