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I’ve been listening to a lot of Christmas music, especially in the car.  I love it.  I look forward to the switch to all every year, and like everyone, I have some favorites I’m excited to hear.

“The inexpressible depth of music, so easy to understand and yet so inexplicable, is due to the fact that it reproduces all the emotions of our innermost being, but entirely without reality and remote from its pain…Music expresses only the quintessence of life and of its events, never these themselves.” ― Oliver Sacks, Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain

So many Christmas songs have an ability to move me in ways that other types of music lack.  Maybe that is just because they are played annually and often during the season.  Maybe it is just that the holiday season is full of activity, and that gives these songs special meaning.  There are a handful of songs that make me think of the smell of the Santa bag we had at our house one year.  Another group transports me to my grandparents’ house on a December evening, the tree glowing intensely red.

I’ve made a “Top 15” list here, which was pretty hard.  There are so many I love.  A week from now, this list could be a completely different one too.  At the time of writing this, these are my favorite Christmas songs.

15. Darius Rucker — Hark! the Herald Angels Sing

1739, Darius Rucker recording 2014

This is one of my favorite carols by anyone, and Darius Rucker does a beautiful job.  Few songs give me as many Christmasy feelings as this one.

14. Ivy Winters — Elfy Winters Night

2016

This is a brand new song for 2016, and I’m very into it.  It’s a fun modern swing sort of thing.  It’s the kind of song that makes me think of a speakeasy, but in a theatrical sense… the type of song performed in a movie scene in a 1920s or 1930s bar.

13. Thurl Ravenscroft (uncredited) — You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch

1966

This is one I try to resist loving, but it is just so tied to my Christmas experience that I can’t not love it.  It’s been recorded by other artists, but the original from the 1966 special is really the best.  Incidentally, the voice actor who sang the song, Thurl Ravenscroft, was not credited for the song, but he’s most well-known as the voice of Tony the Tiger.  He did so many other recognizable things as well, and his voice is just so perfect for this song.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=ZgP0aUKlmNw

12. Pentatonix — Mary, Did You Know?

1991, Pentatonix recording 2014

Pentatonix is sometimes criticized, including by me, for being too plastic.  There is such a thing as too polished, and they often go a step too far for me.  But what they absolutely do right in this song is give it the power it deserves.  A friend pointed out that this song is about a revelation that should be delivered with a certain vehemence, something most singers fail to deliver.  This version really builds beautifully and the lands softly.  It’s really a journey, and I enjoy being taken on it.

11. Gayla Peevey – I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas

1953

This song is so ridiculous and cute, and for me is less obnoxious than the other Christmas songs by and for kids.  It makes this list because it makes me smile every time I hear it.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=2Dec9Jb_Ac4

10. Bing Crosby — Little Drummer Boy

1941, Bing Crosby recording 1962

Little Drummer Boy was my grandpa’s favorite Christmas song.  It makes me think of his house as it was in the 1980s at Christmas, music coming from the stereo cabinet in the living room and the tree intensely lit in red lights.  It makes me think of red three-wick candles, large ceramic Mr. & Mrs. Santa figures, and boxes of wrapping paper at the ready.  It conjures up the smell of brown and serve rolls, the taste of Aunt Chick’s cookies, and the energy of a house well lived in.  It is Christmas for me.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=H6Bv6sX370E

9. Megan Mullally — Silent Night

1818, Megan Mullally recording 2001

I love Megan Mullally’s voice.  She does a fantastic version of Silent Night here, and seems so unique to her own style in parts.  Silent Night is one of the songs I like by most artists, but I sometimes feel like the style doesn’t match the themes of the song.  This one does a pretty good job with that.  This was included on an album of NBC stars, and at that time Will & Grace was enjoying its greatest success.  Megan Mullally went on to release several albums, all amazing and worth looking into.

8. Burl Ives — Holly Jolly Christmas

1962, this Burl Ives recording 1965

What is Christmas without Burl Ives?  Sad, that’s what.  I really appreciate that Ives recorded this for his Christmas album the year after it appeared on the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Soundtrack.  That version had been so rushed and I like this slightly slowed one much more.  This song, and really any song from Rudolph, makes me feel like a kid in all the right ways.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=DtVxFi9C0RA

7. Scott Matthew — Silent Nights

2008

This original song is sweet, sad, wistful… it’s one of the feelings I can identify with, especially during Christmas.  It’s beautiful, and Scott Matthew is the absolute master at making me feel sad and then making feel okay about feeling sad.  His songs are usually wrapped in melancholy, but I’m always glad they are.

6. Carpenters — Merry Christmas Darling

1970

All the Christmas feelings.  This one is similar to Silent Nights, but far more hopeful.  You feel mildly sad that these two won’t be together for Christmas, but are left with little doubt that they will eventually reunite.

5. Mariah Carey – All I Want For Christmas Is You

1994

I got this album when it came out, and I have yet to get enough of this one.  It is just as perfect as it ever was. It’s so full of the joy that makes Christmas wonderful, and truly a timeless classic.

<iframe width=”560″ height=”315″ src=”https://www.youtube.com/embed/yXQViqx6GMY” frameborder=”0″ allowfullscreen></iframe>

4. Ella Fitzgerald – Sleigh Ride

1948, Ella Fitzgerald recording 1960

Ella.  Need I say more?

3. Dolly Parton — Hard Candy Christmas

1978, Dolly Parton & Movie recording 1982

This might be surprisingly high on my list… maybe?  It wasn’t conceived as a Christmas song, but I’m happy to listen to it over and over during December.  This song makes me want to drink cocoa and warm up under a blanket with a good book.

Dolly Parton’s Solo Studio Version

Film Version featuring Dolly Parton & the Cast of The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas

2. Wham! — Last Christmas

1984

This one is polarizing.  I’ve seen it on as many lists of worst Christmas songs as best Christmas songs.  For me it is almost at the top of my favorites. I suppose if you have an aversion to 1980s pop music, you might not care for this, but I love 80s pop.  I especially love anything from George Michael, and I’m happy to hear this in every store during the holidays.

1. Trans-Siberian Orchestra — Christmas Eve (Sarajevo 12/24)

1914 (Carol of the Bells), traditional (God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen)m Trans-Siberian Orchestra recording 1996

Carol of the Bells is probably my favorite Christmas carol, and Trans-Siberian Orchestra really takes it to another level here. This song is a great storytelling.  It’s very moving.

Honorable Mentions

Here are some other songs I love, but they just didn’t quite get on my list.  It’s pretty hard to narrow down to 15; I could probably do a list of 100, and I’d still have to leave things off that I love.

Dean Martin — Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow! 

Bing Crosby & Ella Fitzgerald — It’s A Marshmallow World 

Carnie Wilson & Wendy Wilson — Hey Santa

Trans-Siberian Orchestra — A Mad Russian’s Christmas

Burl Ives — Silver and Gold

Scott Matthew — Blue Christmas

Alaska, Courtney Act & Willam — Dear Santa, Bring Me A Man, 2014

Weather Girls’ — Dear Santa, Bring Me A Man, 1983

Ingrid Lucia — ‘Zat You, Santa Claus?

BC Clark Anniversary Sale Jingle

Megan Mullally sings BC Clark Anniversary Sale Jingle

The Waitresses — Christmas Wrapping

Bing Crosby & David Bowie — Peace on Earth / Little Drummer Boy

Detox — This Is How We Jew It

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My History with Vegetarianism and Veganism

fruit+peach+vintage+graphicsfairy005b copy

As long as I can remember, I’ve had a strained relationship with food.  I don’t have many food memories stored up, but I remember loving pizza, fruit, cereal, and burgers.  I started gaining weight in 3rd or 4th grade.  It wasn’t so much that I craved food, but that I was eating junk.  I had no idea how to eat properly, and enjoyed chips and candy frequently. By 7th grade, I had repeated stomach problems so severe that I was taken to a doctor who told me to not eat red meat or fried foods.  Ever.  My stomach issues cleared up.  I was able to mostly eliminate red meat and no longer ate fried foods.  My diet was not actually improved; I was only doing the minimum required to not be in pain.  The candies, sodas, and other foods continued.

When I was in middle school I became friends with a kid from a family that was vegan.  He also didn’t eat wheat, salt, or sugar.  Eating at his house felt like being in a different country, and my parents certainly didn’t know how to feed him at our house.  Things were always awkward between him and most other people.  A lot of ridicule was thrown his way, and behind his back he was referred to pejoratively as “veggie boy.”   I defended him, but in my mind the family’s vegan lifestyle was akin to a minority religion.  He was always thin and short, traits that were attributed to his diet.  Vegetarianism and veganism were seem as extreme in Oklahoma culture.  The official state meal, adopted in 1988, consists of fried okra, cornbread, barbecue pork, squash, biscuits, sausage and gravy, grits, corn, strawberries, chicked fried steak, pecan pie, and black-eyed peas.  While one could make a strong argument for at least part of this being designated “Oklahoma Historical State Meal,”  as a current meal it definitely marginalizes plant-based lifestyles.

vegiscarrots-graphicsfairy009 copyI started to form my own opinions on eating meat when I was in high school.  Veganism didn’t seem right, or healthy.  My friend seemed to be malnourished, so I made the assumptions everyone else had made.  Still, the idea of eating animals seemed increasingly in conflict with my love of animals.  Love of animals is a misunderstood term, and one that has been a part of who I am for most of my life.  I liked to read about animal behavior in encyclopedias, National Geographic magazines, and in my subscriptions to National and International Wildlife magazines.  I was hooked on natural history and plastered the walls of my bedroom with images from magazines of the animals I liked the most — cats, insects, giraffes, gorillas, dolphins, peacocks, dinosaurs, and many others.  I was starting to see them as fellow inhabitants of the same planet and that belief made it harder and harder to want to see parts of animals cooked up for me to consume.  I wasn’t making a full connection.  It’s easy to forget what the thin round brown disc on a burger actually is.  It’s almost designed to prevent knowing.  I would go back and forth on my willingness to eat animals for a few years.  I found it easier in college; the student union offered a veggie patty that I could have with my Josta soda and I could get a bean burrito or veggie sub for dinner.  Feeding myself allowed me to eschew the animal foods that were generally consumed by other family members.  I still wasn’t terribly strict with myself, allowing myself to enjoy the McDonald’s where my roommate worked.

I drifted away from these values after college.  I have always been an eager people pleaser, and when I started spending time with a group of new friends, I didn’t want to seem odd.  Enjoying the meats they cooked allowed me to fit in better.  I would still try to be mostly plant-based, but did not turn down animal meals either.  I still had issues with eating the animals, but I was more than willing to trade in my personal beliefs to make sure my friends were comfortable.  It’s the only way in which I feel Southern.

Honoring My Values

In 2005, I took an opportunity from my dad to visit Alaska.  He had grown up there and I was eager to see it.  I was working on a novel based on his life at the time, so it seemed logical that I should go see where it all began.  A friend went with me for the first week and I would stay a full month.  My dad had found two places for me to stay, both at the homes of high school friends of his.  At the end of the first week, I had decided I was moving, and my friend was eager to join me.  She returned and orchestrated the move while I continued to stay and look for a job.  The second two weeks of my vacation were spent housesitting for a couple who are vagan.  Even with my history, I found it off-putting.  I would go through their pantry and cabinets looking at all the unusual foods.  It was not what I was used to.  And I didn’t fully embrace the experience, as I should have.  I took pleasure in buying fried chicken and eating it in the living room, a secret act of defiance.  I’m still sad about that situation.

h227BB420After a little over a year in Alaska, I was alone and starting to really reflect on the person I really wanted to be and learning how to focus on myself while I developed relationships with a newly emerging group of friends.  During that first year, I was eating meat at least once a day.  I didn’t feel right.  I was having trouble staying happy.  2006 was coming to a close when I had the epiphany that I could no longer eat meat.  I was eating lamb at the time and I could feel it in my mouth as I masticated;  it was no longer food.  The lamb had been alive, every bit as much as I am alive, and it certainly did not belong inside my body.  It should have been allowed to mature, to be free, to become a sheep.  I had been a part of that creature’s death, the demand that required it to be killed and included in my meal.  I could see its little lamb face in my mind.  It was adorable, to be sure, but I was more struck by the audacity of eating another creature because I wanted to, disregarding its family and community.  Don’t kid yourself, sheep have communities.  Cows have best friends and a matriarchal society.  Chickens organize themselves into a complex hierarchy, the origin of the term “pecking order.”  These animals aren’t sitting around waiting to become a meal.  They are trying to live full lives, as much as they can with what we give them.

It all came down on my and I cried.  I cried a lot and wanted the animal out of my body.  I have not eaten meat since.

I did just a small amount of research at the time.  I had been been going back and forth with vegetarianism for ten years at that point, so I felt like I had a handle on the facts enough to not dig much deeper.  I had made a partial connection, but I was blind to part of the story.

Making the Connection

black-beansMy roommate had become bored with the vegetarian meals we ate.  I tend to just stick to the same things over and over, but I went online is search of some new recipes.  I started on YouTube, searching for vegan recipes.  I chose vegan as my search term so I could make sure to not get fish recipes.  I assume those people still exist, so it seemed safest — or at least more efficient — to find vegan recipes and add cheese to whatever I found.  I watched a lot of YouTube videos.  I started with recipes, went into grocery hauls, “what I ate” vlogs, and personal stories about going vegetarian or vegan.  I had found a community of people who made sense to me.  These were nonjudgmental souls who seemed to strongly care about life.  They cared about other beings, about the planet, and about what they chose to put in their bodies.  The pieces of the puzzle started coming together.  I went further than I expected and chose to watch a few activism videos.  I wasn’t able to ignore what I was watching.

Being vegan, as was learning from these folks, was not as hard or restrictive as I had believed.  It seemed downright easy, and close to what I was already doing.  I had been one of those vegetarians who would defend myself by saying “at least I’m not a vegan,” a statement that did not really make sense.  I find the anger directed at vegans interesting and unfounded.  I’m not sure where it comes from, but maybe its insecurity.  Non-vegans may feel like they could be doing things wrong.  How is it extreme to not eat animals?

There is a fair amount of misunderstanding about vegetarianism and veganism.  I’ve already spent a lot of time explaining to people how I get my protein, if I properly combine my foods, and why I don’t like bacon.  I deal with the innocent taunts by family members who think its cute to wave meats at me or tell me I just don’t get how delicious it is.  They don’t get it.  They might never understand what I’m trying to do for myself, but in the case of the kids I just have to tolerate it until I believe they are old enough to process my reasons.  I was letting my family know that I had decided to go to a plant-based diet, a more palatable term, when my nephew said “as long as you haven’t gone vegan.”  I had, and said as much.  But I’m bothered by the implication.  He meant no harm, of course.  He is old enough to understand my arguments, and I may go into them at some point, but what bothered me is the acceptance of a plant-based lifestyle in one moment, and a dismissal of the same lifestyle once it had been termed as vegan.  It never wasn’t.

There exists this image of vegans as unkempt vagabonds whose privileged childhoods allowed them to explore themselves to their own detriment.  This person has spent time in the peace corps, not for altruistic reasons, has spent time panhandling in Amsterdam, and has taken on the spiritualism of multiple cultures, none of which they understand.  They have given up body care products, which they claim to no longer need in spite of that odor they seem to have.  And they have to gall to tell those around them everything nobody asked about the food they are eating or the clothes they are wearing.  These are the vegans who will always find fault with one thing or another, the milk or caffeine or leather… They will explain to you that you should eat organic, raw, local, fair-trade, and GMO-free.  They will understand none of these things.  They will point out how the company that made the shoes you are wearing also makes leather shoes and so should be boycotted.  These people are poor by choice — Mom, Dad, and the trust fund are only a phone call away.  They are obnoxious, self-righteous, and hypocritical.  And they are not typical of vegans, in spite of the stereotype.  They make veganism feel like such a struggle.

Only it’s not.

shutterstock_102426532-web-1031x675I am evolving because I have chosen to turn off the criticism I receive, real or perceived.  I’ve allowed myself to accept the education I had ignored before.  I have watched the documentaries, read the blogs, been horrified by what I’ve seen.  Ignorance was wonderfully happy, but it allowed me to excuse things I knew in my heart to be wrong.  Education is so important to furthering oneself as a human being.

I’m going to slip up.  I’m going to do things and eat things that others would not.  I’m going to feel weakened by the arguments of those I love and fail to keep up with what I’ve chosen for myself.  I know these things.  But as time passes, I know I’ll be able to stand my ground and develop my arguments more fully.  I’ve never been great with debate, but I’m going to need to find tools to help stay myself.  And I’m going to share what I’ve learned with others.  I fully believe that your convictions and beliefs should be challenged often.  If your mind is changed, then your values were not what you thought them to be.  If, in the face of the information I share, people do not feel compelled to change, then I will have done what I can.  It isn’t for me to force compassionate living.

December 27, 2006 I became a vegetarian.  July 27, 2016 I became a vegan.  I’m so excited about where this will take me.

But Wait, I’m Fat Too!

IMG_6184I’m overweight.  I’ve touched on that somewhat, but probably less than I should have.  The thing is that my decision to go vegan had nothing to do with my health.  My choices with regard to animals and how much a part of my diet they should be has never been about my weight.

Still, it is interesting that I managed to gain so much weight in just under ten years of vegetarianism.  But I wasn’t the model of vegetarian nutrition.  I love mozzarella cheese.  I could eat it as a meal.  I love potato chips, and fast food, and frozen burritos.  I have spent years eating to worst possible things for myself.  I was calorie restricting at times, but still eating junk.  I have failed at being healthy.  To be fair, I wasn’t really trying.

Veganism is a lifestyle dominated by compassion, not a specific diet.  There are many ways to be vegan.  I could, if I chose, consume a diet of only Oreos, Coca-Cola, and potato chips.  I’d be vegan, but I don’t think I’d feel very good about it.  I could also eat nothing but salads three times a day, crunching on apples as a snack as well.  I’d definitely be vegan, but I would not be healthy at all.

IMG_7402The plan I’ve chosen, and that I’ve felt so good on for the past week, is high carb, low fat.  It’s a mainly whole foods plan, and does not include oils.  It feels clean and abundant, as it is very important for vegans to make sure they get enough calories to be satiated.  To do so, I eat a lot more than I used to.  That is the part that I’ve found the most difficult; my vegetarian diet consisted largely of one or two meals with a lot of calories from fats, dairy, and eggs.  Those are not nutrient rich sources of calories, but they are easier.  Now I’m trying to get to at least 2500 calories daily.  I feel energetic.  I’ve got so much extra weight that this energy is hard to use efficiently, but I’m hoping that I drop some weight so I can start exercising vigorously.  I believe that this is the way to do that.  I’ve looked into studies done by reputable institution, watched lectures by doctors who have studies plant-based nutrition, and read testimonials by others enjoying this lifestyle.  The consensus seems to be that eating in this way will encourage the body to work toward its ideal weight.  It isn’t instant; it may not even be fast.  But if I stick with it I should see the results I want.  More importantly, I’d like to solve what seem to be compounding health issues.  I don’t want to be on medications for allergies or blood pressure.  I don’t want worry about headaches, backaches, depression, chronic fatigue, knee pain, heart disease, cancer, or any of the other ailments that seem inevitable in my future.

I’ve been eating 5 meals a day, following a fairly consistent pattern.

Meal 1: (around 6:00am) Early morning.  This is my when I like to have water and fruit.  It wakes me up, but doesn’t seem too harsh.  After this meal, I start a pot of coffee (yep.) and get ready for my day.

Meal 2: (mid morning)  Carbs!  This is a couple cups of oatmeal or rice with coffee.  Maybe a little fruit mixed in.  If I want something like a cake or bread I’d probably have it here.

Meal 3:  (noonish)  A big salad is perfect at this point, but I’m flexible.  I might have more fruit or some cereal or whatever.  If my rice was particularly filling, I might skip this meal.

Meal 4:  (late afternoon)  A can of beans plus a can of stewed tomatoes can be great in the afternoon.  Its filling without being too much.  Some pasta or a sandwich or veggie burrito is also great at this time.  I like vegan meat substitutes and this is where I usually enjoy them.

Meal 5:  (early evening) My final meal of the day is usually potatoes of some sort, maybe with a green salad.  I love potatoes in all forms.

Resources

strawberries copyDocumentaries

Forks Over Knives — Trailer : Website  This documentary makes the case for a plant-based diet from a health perspective.  I found this one life changing.  Usually available to watch on Netflix.

Dr. Michael Greger — “Uprooting the Leading Causes of Death” : NutritionFacts.org : Website  Dr. Michael Greger M.D. reveals the findings of many studies over several decades showing the beneficial effects of a whole food, plant-based diet.  “Uprooting the Leading Causes of Death” is one of his annual presentations on the newest findings in nutrition in which he discusses 14 of the top 15 leading causes of death in America and how they can be prevented, treated, and/or reversed by a plant-based diet.

Cowspiracy — Trailer : Website  This illuminating film attempts to un-silence the link between animal agriculture and the decline of the planet’s health.  Anyone interested in not living in a dystopian future, give this one a watch.

Earthlings — Trailer  Joaquin Phoenix narrates a difficult-to-watch, but important documentary on the suffering of animals for the amusement and feeding of humans.  It can be difficult to change the perceptions of superiority, but it is worth watching.

Gary Yourofsky — “The Best Speech You Will Ever Hear” full speech + Q&A : Website  Yourofsky is a skilled orator and makes the case for veganism with extremely well-framed arguments.  This is a must-watch for many vegans.  It is great, but I’d also watch a few of Yourofsky’s TV appearances.  He is so versed in his cause that he calmly dismantles those who try to debate him.

There are also a lot of fantastic YouTube channels:

Mr. and Mrs. Vegan – Nutrition, Recipes, Vlog, Weight Loss

The Vegan Corner – Recipes

Mic. the Vegan – Activism

That Vegan Couple – Activism, Vlog, Recipes, Nutrition

Hot for Food – Recipes

Freelee the Banana Girl – Nutrition, Activism, Fitness, Vlog, Weight Loss

The Light Twins – Fitness, Recipes, Vlog, Nutrition, Activism, Weight Loss

NutritionFacts.org – Nutrition, Weight Loss

Jon Venus – Fitness, Nutrition, Vlog

Guilt Free Vegan – Vlog, Recipes, Fitness, Nutrition

Learn Organic Gardening – Gardening, Nutrition, Activism

EdgyVeg – Recipes

Life al Dente – Vlog

Peaceful Cuisine – Recipes

Colleen Patrick-Goudreau

BananaTV – Vlog, Recipes, Activism

Jenny Mustard – Recipes, Vlog, Lifestyle, Nutrition

Sweet Potato Soul – Recipes

Mary’s Test Kitchen – Recipes

Running Vegan – Fitness, Nutrition, Activism

Bite Size Vegan – Activism

Cheap Lazy Vegan – Recipes

Healthiest Vegan – Vlog, Nutrition

Unnatural Vegan – Activism, Nutrition

Vince Lia

Handyman Bananas – Recipes, Fitness

Bananiac

The Vegan Mojo

The Butterfly Effect — Plant-Based Weight Loss – Nutrition, Weight Loss, Vlog

Reach4Raw – Weight Loss, Vlog, Lifestyle

Brett Cap

Vegan Gains – Activism, Fitness, Nutrition, Vlog

Potato Strong

Dr. John McDougall – Nutrition

and many, many others….

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Long day!  We woke up to a very good breakfast.  We traveled away from St. Malo and went to Normandy.  In one town we ate some lunch and had a very good time.  I could do this a lot.  However, some chose to go to a discoteque late the night before and Arnaud was very stressed.  I bought some cheese.  In Normandy, we went to the American cemetery and there was quite a downpour.  Everyone and everything was wet.  It was probably better because we got a better feeling of what it might have been like in that harbor at that time.  We saw the concrete structures in the sea that were brought to fortify the artificial harbor.  We also spent about 45 minutes at the place that was bombed and the Germans were called [Omaha] Beach.  Then after that we were off to Paris!  We were going and I woke up about one hour before we arrived in the city.  We went through many miles of trees and forest and the traffic started thickening.  The trees were very numerous.  We went through several tunnels and suddenly under one tunnel, we were there!  We ate at a very decent restaurant where the waiters were amusing when they tried to speak English.  After that we went for a lovely ride on a boat through the highlights of Paris from the Seine River.  We went around both islands and passed many gorgeous buildings and statues.  When we arrived at the hotel we were pleasantly surprised by the discovery of a shower curtain and refrigerator and microwave.  It was very nice.  Each room was 350 F for 1 night – 2 people.  Paris is a wonderful city.  We are not doing anything for the night but sleep!

» 26 May 2009

This day had a lot of important parts.  First, the visit to one of the D-Day beaches was really moving.  The heavy rain made it even more somber and I wished I could have just stood there all day.  While the history lessons on large boards were fascinating, they paled to have the impact of a field of white crosses.  It was beautiful and eerie.  The rain, the cold, and the sudden sense of sadness dealt a crucial blow to my impressions of Paris.  By the time we arrived, I wasn’t really feeling well and tried for a couple days to shake it.  Unfortunately, I only had those couple of days to enjoy Paris.  Under different circumstances, my feelings of that city might be better.

» 27 June 2016

The air is thick with an uneasiness.  Change seems inevitable, but whether that will prove positive or negative remains to be seen.  I have a lot of fears about the direction politics is headed in this country, in spite of the fact that I really do believe the US is not only the greatest country to be living in right now, but has been getting better and better.  Losing sight of our improvements as a nation is easy; the media finds very little interest in something as mundane as satisfaction or happiness.  The impression is left that there exists more unrest, more dissatisfaction, more strife than actually does exist, and that feeds into those problems.  I’m by no means saying that genuine issues do not exist, nor am I saying that the issues  people face are not important.  But what I am saying is that we are not worse off than we were before.  Part of the rhetoric of the current political discourse is that we have left behind an America whose ideals were so fantastic.  We have betrayed our country and need to work to get back to a former greatness.  That sounds good, and nostalgia certainly paints the past in pretty colors, but when viewed historically, no basis for such an idyllic time exists.  Sure, we’ve had moments of resolve, challenges we have overcome, periods of great prosperity and possibility, but often these moments are tainted with the uglier sides of our human nature: discrimination, greed, corruption.  In no point in American history have we seen as much equality for all citizens as we do now, even if there is still progress to be made.  And that is we have opportunities to shine.  Progress.  We won’t be the leaders of the free world anymore if we isolate ourselves and leave our allies to figure things out for themselves.

In 1776, France provided aid to the American colonies, likely allowing for the defeat of the British in the American Revolution.  On June 6, 1944 America was able to repay that debt and helped defeat the Germans who were occupying France at the time.  They were our first ally, and remain one to this day.  But that relationship was not formed and strengthened through isolationism.  How different would the world be now if the United States had decided that saving France was not its problem?  How different would the world be now if France had decided that saving the American Colonies was not its problem?  Foreign relations is not about maintaining friendships at arms length.  It never has been.  A large number of Americans have been steered into that way of thinking.  The media coverage and the conservative message have so blown up the problems that exist with “the other” that I think it is difficult to remember how connected we all are on this planet.

Visiting Omaha beach was moving, it still is twenty years later.  It is a reminder of our global responsibility.  Having a strong and proud national identity need not cost us our allies.

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0607 Mont St Michel7 is my lucky number!  It was a wonderful day.  Breakfast wasn’t all that great, but we soon travelled to Mont St Michel.  Mont St Michel is a beautiful abbey on a rock in the English Channel, just off the the coast of France.  The tide changes so much that it is possible to walk out to another island a half mile out and within the next hour be trapped for 4-5 hours!  We visited all the important places and there was a lot of climbing to do.  However, it was worth it.  On the way down we ate lunch and shopped.  I bought 2 berets at 60f each.  When we got back to the city of St Malo, we shopped for about 3-4 1/2 hours.  I ended up with one deck of poker cards, 1 deck of tarot cards, 2 smurfs, 1 tin-tin, 4 berets, and a word search book.

» 1 September 2007

This is what happens when you take children to somewhere so great and let them spend their own money.  They buy Smurfs.  I still have my St Malo Smurfs.  I actually love them still, but I wish I had found a more meaningful trinket from there or from Mont St Michel.  How was I to know that I would not be caught dead in a beret within a year of the trip.  Several of the berets and both decks of cards were gifts.

» 20 June 2016f1001 copy

I fell in love with the abbey at first sight.  I wanted to spend many hours there.  As we walked up to the top, I felt very alone — not in a bad way, but in a wonderful way.  It was as though I was the only person who existed in the world and I was seeing this place before anyone else.  Each stone made me happy; the sides of the structure were as beautiful close up as they were far away.  There were chains that I felt compelled to take pictures of, rock sculptures that were so beautiful I was deeply changed.  At the top of the abbey sits a courtyard lined in shrubs, perfectly maintained and trimmed.  There was a space where a block was placed over one shrub.  I still don’t know why, but it did complete the perfect lines of the rest of the plants.  I wanted to lose myself on the island in the distance.  The many other tourists around melted away in what would be my favorite place on the planet.  If you have never been to Mont St Michel, it is worth going.  It has such magic to it.

f9 copyThere is something so special to me about this place even today, but it’s interesting that I don’t have words for that.  This happens to be frequently; things I hold close are often the things I find the most trouble describing.

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0606 St Malo 3A rather boring day.  First, we got up and had a gloriously good breakfast.  The beverages were watered down.  We then drove about an hour and a half through rather flat country.  Many of the towns had “troglodite houses,” houses built in the cliff using it for 3 of the 4 walls.  We then arrived at a winery in Saumur.  They made a sparkling white which was actually champagne but not from the Champagne area.  It was wonderful!  I loved it.  … I guess my wine experience wasn’t over — just for red wine!  We then rode about 6 hours to St Malo.  The most beautiful city  I have seen on our tour thus far, sail boats lined the coast and the old city was gorgeous.  We had a dinner at which we ordered a white wine — I didn’t have any.  I am quite addicted to Orangina.  A few of us left at 9:30 for an evening walk in the old city.  All the stores were closed and the city was beautiful.  We bought some ice cream.  I had passion fruit.  It was quite wonderful.  We then “strolled” back to the Hotel Mascotte (where we were staying).  It was great.

{2007 Notes}

» 30 August 2007

I don’t know what I thought was boring about that day.  I could spend the rest of my days in St Malo, which I had figured out the day we arrived.  It was one of the greatest moments of the two weeks, strolling the streets of the old city.  “Old city” refers to the original city of St Malo, encased in a stone wall.  The city has outgrown this wall and now spills out around it into a rather large place.  I have no clue why I put quotation marks around the word strolled.

The drinks we had with breakfast were all very watered down.  Already, we had seen that breakfast includes coffee, orange juice, water, & milk.  It seems odd, but the portions are all very small.  The winery was interesting.  Making wine is a rather slow and uneventful process.

If I am ever in Europe again, I would like to spend my time in St Malo — or at the very least visit again.  It was my idea of heaven.  I think that explains why I was such a nerd with my descriptions of it.  I was 16 after all.

» 7 May 2016

troglodyte-1024x682My time if France was rushed; there was so much planned for us to see in two weeks that when I look back on it, I think of it as more like a two month vacation.  I clearly remember the moments I believed would be those I carried with me for the rest of my life, and I remember trying to dwell in them slightly more in order to create the memories I knew would be so important.  In many cases I was spot on, and those events are absolute stand out moments.  But rushing in a bus through the Loire Valley, I couldn’t know how the troglodyte houses would stick with me.  I think of those homes often, enchanted by the fairy tale beauty of little cottages stuck in the sides of cliffs, sprawling communities that resemble so much other villages in France, but with almost disregard for the rock structures around them, or rather in spite of them.  I wanted to go in the houses, see the rocky interior walls, experience how these people lived.  But we were only driving through, on to bigger and more typically touristy destinations. Saint-Malo, one of the most visited towns in France by those who do not live in France, was one of these places.  One of these places we were expected to be found and so had been placed.  Don’t get me wrong, I still hold Saint-Malo in my heart as the jewel of my time in France.  It’s the place I would wrap myself in if I could, live in, revisit, talk about.  However, twenty years on it seems like I might have missed out on experiences that would have stood out even more.

1ed242324b8d4ee5520e366dde685ebfWhen I was 28, at the time of the first comments made to this journal, I had not yet figured out how to own the things that make me… me.  I had not embraced the quirks, good and bad, that had always been a part of me.  I had not yet nourished the nerd inside of me that I love so much now.  I was so much of a people pleaser that I routinely changed who I was to be the person I thought the world wanted me to be.  I’m sure I’ll read this entry in ten years and think how immature it seems as well, but I feel so proud to have come so far in my own understanding of myself.  It’s one of those lessons that cannot be taught.  I may have described the city of Saint-Malo in ways that my 28 year old self found nerdy, but I’m glad I did.  I was genuinely elated at being there and I had not learned to deny my joys at that point, not to myself anyway.  That would come later.  16771006274_e68ae8466d_b

If I knew that the only thing I would be able to do on a trip to France would be to stroll through an ancient city on a warm Spring evening and enjoy an ice cream, it would still be totally worth it.

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ChambordOkay, the day is not over but feels as if it should be.  We have had a very busy schedule.  First, we had breakfast which was wonderful.  We then got on the bus and went to Chambord.  The chateau was quite marvelous.  The top was so intriquet.  There were so many places to go and many things to see.  I enjoyed it very much and ran into Mme Dobbs and one out of her group around every corner.  I started getting the feeling that they were following me.  At the next chateau, Chenonceau, the feeling was more free but more inhabitable.  There was a gallery which was in a long hall.  It had a very airy feeling and was free.  It was a much less eventful chateau than the first.  Next, we were off to Tours where we went to the Château d’Amboise.  It was very beautiful with several stained glass windows and gargoyles.  The windows showed many feur-de-lis, which also could be found throughout the chateau.  They also had a symbol on them which nobody knew what it was.  It was like a star with rays of light beneath.  After that we went to the Hotel de L’Europe where we stayed.  The lady at the desk was surprisingly kind.  The Evian machine was not working, but she helped.  I am spending $2-$3 on cokes because I really want them.  However, most are orange flavored sodas.  Par example, Orangina, Fanta Orange, Oasis, & two other ones that I have seen.  I am running out of money from coke — I may just eat a bagel for lunch tomorrow — I brought some.  I waited 20-30 minutes for the elevator because only one person would be able to go at a time.  The balcony is a 2-2 1/2 foot wide slab of concrete on which you can stand and a rail to hold you in.  Not real exciting.  We now must go eat and go to some show thing, but first, Arnaud.  He is very cool; he reminds me of Julien Gabriel.  I am just glad we didn’t get a courier who was very strict or was a complete airhead.  We ate at a very nice restaurant.  I never thought I would order from a wine list.  I had a red wine and it was aweful.  I hate it.  It was so gross.  I’ll never drink wine again.  The light show was relaxing.  We walked by one of the chateaus in the area.

» 28 August 2007

This was an extremely busy day on the trip.  The first chateau, Chambord, had an elaborate roof of many chimneys.  It was a beautiful building.  This was the first day that I felt really alone on the trip.  The rest of the group I had come with were hanging out together on the lawn and the Idaho group had continued on to look at the chateau.  I remember passing an open door where a man was doing some sort of work in the building while listening to Aerosmith.  It made me happy.

Chenonceau was rather boring, despite being beautiful.  It sits atop the River Cher and has a very unlived-in feeling.  I had more fun hanging out with Kamal, Arnaud, and a couple of girls from Cincinatti at the bus than I did at the chateau.

0605 Chateau d'AmboiseThe Chateau d’Amboise was lovely — my favorite chateau of that day.  Its massive gargoyles hang over the town below the chateau and the windows still have much of the original color in them.  The fleur-de-lis patterns were amazing.  It was at this chateau that I purchased a fleur-de-lis charm for my cousin.  As we were leaving, Arnaud pointed out (in passing) that Leonardo da Vinci’s grave was off to the side in a chapel.  We rushed over to the monument that had seemed hidden until pointed out and took pictures of it.  It seemed unreal — in fact it still does.  Unfortunately, the chapel was not open that day and we were unable to get any closer to the tomb.

I had taken bagels from home on my trip, which somehow seems wrong.  They did serve me well in those first few days though, saving money for future days when I would certainly need to eat.  That inital wine experience was rather traumatic.  I still don’t like wine or wine-flavored things such as coq au vin.  That was a great meal though — not the food, but the company.  Everyone was having a great time that evening.  It was nice.

» 1 September 2007

Julien Gabriel was the only other French person I knew to that point in my life.  I think Arnaud was very little like him, but as another French person I was reminded of him.  Also, they are the only two French people I have known in my life and I developed a crush on both of them.  Maybe it is that they are French… probably, in fact.

» 31 March 2016

As I said before, children should be educated in finances and budgeting.  If I had learned those skills before I went to France, my experience would have been more defined by the moments and experiences, and less by the things I bought.  Rarely did I give thought to what I was buying; I just threw my money at things and took them with me.  And did I need to waste so much money on orange soda?  No.  I remember feeling like I was exploring, discovering for myself those things enjoyed by the real people of France.  And at sixteen, I clearly knew everything about everything.  I knew far too much to ask for advice from those around me, deciding instead to do a trial and error test of things.  That is really a way of exploring that might be completely antiquated now.  With a smart phone, I may have done the research myself and found which sodas or stores or whatever were locally popular.  I still wouldn’t have better understood to not spend money on things that ultimately did not add to my experience.

0605 ChenonceauI wish I had written much more in my original journal than I did.  This was a huge day, full of history and beauty.  Each chateau could have taken an entire day of our attention, but we visited three different places.  I’m struck now with how different each experience was at each of the chateaux.  My immaturity at sixteen is to be expected, if disappointing, but I have previously annotated this portion of the journal and I find my lack of real insight or knowledge fascinating eleven years after the trip.  I’m not sure what I thought a revisit should be.  It seems fairly clear that I did not want to take away too much from the original by having too many opinions.  That was a mistake.  Brian at twenty-eight was thoughtful and poetic, none of which is reflected in these notes.

The hypothetical comes up often: if you could go back in time and do something differently, what would it be?  Of course, hindsight is such a convenient lens to view ones past through.  I think I’d probably tell myself to focus more on learning about history.  I was defiant when it came to history.  I found the memorization of dates and names to be absurd, I still do somewhat, but I wish I could tell my past self how amazing historical context can be to everyday life and how that can enhance everything.  It seems like I’m overstating here, but I don’t know if I’m even going far enough.  If I had known how interesting war can be, turning abandoned French chateaux into storage for art or into a hospital ward.  Visiting these places, things seem so peaceful on a warm June morning, but there were lives lived on the grounds, in the rooms.  These places were bombed, flooded, partially destroyed in fires.  These places were alive and after centuries of activity, rest quietly in picturesque villages, visited by tourists who will never understand them.

0605 Chateau d'Amboise da VinciThere is something so familiar about Europe.  European Americans have built for themselves a cultural heritage that really starts with the American Revolution.  It’s as though there had been nothingness and in the 1770s America sprang into existence.  Sure, there are a few stories of before (Plymouth, Jamestown, Roanoke), but they seem like myths in our infant culture.  250 years is still young, and part of the story is missing.  That story is one of the things I found in Europe.  I don’t know that I learned exactly what pieces filled in the gaps, but there was definitely a feeling that this country was a cousin to my own, a much older cousin.  Finding roots I didn’t even know existed, that feeling that these were at the very least the peripheral stories of my people, was a very interesting feeling.  I’m not sure I can even clearly articulate my feelings about it.

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France Journal: June 4, 1996

f6 copyI woke up and said “yes.”  That is what happened.  The man asked if I wanted breakfast.  We saw below — far below — what looked like land.  The lady who was seated beside me and who took 15 pills at each meal told me about some things and the anouncement to turn off personal electronic devices came on.  Upon landing we were bused over & got our luggage.  Going through customs I thought I would be checked.  Luckily I wasn’t.  Going on we were met by a 20 something plaid pants guy.  It was Arnaud, our courier.  We went to an airport café and waited two and a half hours for the other groups.  During this time I got to know Amanda and Jessica, two out of the Dobbs group.  Jessica was really very nice.  When the other groups arrived we got on a bus.  We rode an hour & a half to Chartes.  There we saw the cathedral and many little shops.  The cathedral was magnificent; it had many stained glass windows displaying the many stories of Jesus in vivid colors.  [It] was glorious.  The hotel we stayed in was the Hôtel Campanile.  It was a very compact hotel/restaurant.  The dinner was simple and not that great.  I have now grown quite fond of Orangina — the only good soda in France (I think).  Sleep sounds good — the shower is interesting.  It is a sit down type — no curtain — it was very difficult to keep the water inside to use.  Very interesting experience.

» 28 August 2007

They failed to tell us — or take into account — how much time we were losing during our flight.  We arrived after a full day of travel to a rather booked afternoon of activity.  This day seemed distant even the next day.  I was not refreshed enough to fully take in what was going on.

I had actually seen Arnaud a couple times before we figured out that he was our courier.  He was wearing red plaid pants, which I found strange.  However, I was taken with how cute he was.  He was slender and tan.  His hair was very short and he had a great confidence that made him very attractive.  I was rather excited to discover that we would be spending the first week with him.

The lady on the plane (with the large number of giant green and brown pills) had a movie ending to her story.  She was met by her male friend (husband, boyfriend, whatever) as she exited the plane.  They embraced and kissed.  It had clearly not been that long since they had seen each other, but they were still very glad to be back together.  I remember thinking how nice it was that she had someone.

If you find yourself in a Parisian airport for 2+ hours, have a book with you or just take a nap.  There is very little to do.  Amanda, Jessica, & I walked along the corridors to a newsstand and back quite a few times, while the others sat at the indoor café (meant to look like an outdoor café).

I find my sudden interest in Orangina interesting.  I ended up being wrong, but I really only found one other soda that I liked, Oasis.

» 27 March 2016

Memory is an odd thing.  I often find myself thinking about the lady I sat next to on the flight from New York to France.  I suppose it I had been older and more self-confident, I might have gotten to know her better.  But that doesn’t really sound like me.  Even now, I’m not demonstratively gregarious in general.  I enjoy the company of others, but I’m not outspoken and have little need of small talk.  I’m reserved, preferring to let others approach me or initiate conversation.  It’s not always the most successful way of being a person, but it seems an unchangeable part of who I am.  On this trip to France, that wouldn’t only inhibit my knowing more about my fellow passenger, but would keep me isolated from my own group and to an extent from the other groups we joined with.  It might have been nice to have learned different ways of communicating with people prior to this point in my life.

I’ve done some reading about the concept of the “Highly Sensitive Person” recently.  I’m starting to think that my reticence has much more to do with being highly sensitive than it does with shyness or introversion.  I don’t have direct evidence to support my self-diagnosis, but it makes more sense.  I am fascinated by evolutionary psychology and the idea that we as a species have various personality types as a survival strategy for us all.  It makes me feel far less alone to know that there exist so many other people whose temperaments are like my own.  It’s hard to remember that because the people most likely to share their temperaments are those with far more demonstrative extroverts.

Don’t misunderstand me, I really like myself.  And I genuinely enjoy the company of others.  I even wish for those around me to understand me and have a desire to get to know me.  But I do not have the ability to get past my own nature or to act in a way that seems unnatural to me.  I just have to keep finding strategies that make the nature I have work for me.  It’s funny that at 36 I have to continue working on the same issues that have kept me at arms length-from others.

Chartres Cathedral is extremely interesting.  It was built at the turn of the 13th century and remains a beautiful piece of architecture with a flair that makes it seems like such an imposing building in the city of Chartres, which at the time had a fairly modest population.  I had trouble appreciating much of anything on that first day.  I found myself so distracted by the amazement I felt just being in Europe for the first time that I had trouble focusing on the details of the one place.  The excitement was overwhelming.  It might have been nice to spend that first day walking the streets of Chartres, getting to know France in a more intimate way.  When I finally get a chance to go back, my experience will be much more about being present in the beautiful towns.  At 16, a day to wrap my mind around things would have allowed me to engage sooner.

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I watched a TED talk by Roman Mars, the man behind the 99% Invisible blog.  It was on the subject of city flags and I didn’t expect much from it; it had come up on YouTube’s autoplay after a video I had chosen to watch.  I was eating dinner, so I just let it go.  I was immediately hooked and by the end I found myself googling flags for cities where I’ve lived to see how bad they are.  And mostly, they are pretty bad.  I couldn’t get it off my mind, so I went to Photoshop and started to make my own.  As Mars points out in his talk, people are passionate about the flag for the city where they live, and people are usually pretty terrible when it comes to great design.

The loudest voices tend to not understand why a flag like the Union Jack, for example,  is so important for the identity of the United Kingdom.  This was apparent during last year’s call for a change to the city flag of Provo, Utah.  It had long been considered one of the worst, but the proposed change caused controversy.  When opened up to the public, the types of submissions received largely failed to follow the basic principles of design, opting instead to put in some sort of agenda for the city.  Flags are unifying, not political.  In the end, Provo voted for and chose a fantastic new flag, one other cities should be envious of.  But it was an uphill battle, which is somewhat surprising… or should be.

New Zealand is in the midst of a second referendum to change their country’s flag to something divorced from their Australian neighbors.  It was bound to be controversial; the current flag was adopted in 1902.  It seems, however, that the issue is more about people not really caring, and opting to vote for the status quo as a way of making that point.  But the prime minister has a point.  The current flag is nearly identical to Australia’s flag, and like it still has the Union Jack on it.  While New Zealand is a part of the Commonwealth, most countries within it have modified their flags following independence in the 1930s and 1940s.  Canada’s fantastic flag is a great example.  The Union Jack persisted on the flag for a while, but by the mid-1960s, the maple leaf flag had been adopted, cementing a true identity for Canadians, removed from that of the people of the United Kingdom.  They do share a queen, but they do not share a cultural identity.  Their flag drives that point and gives the separate peoples something to make them special.  As for New Zealand, they may choose to keep their current flag.  I personally think they should change it.  The proposed change, chosen in a vote last year, is pretty great.  I would’ve gone further and removed the stars, but it’s still a great looking flag.

Looking at state city flags in the United States, I found a strong tendency to stick the state or city seal in a field of color, usually blue, and call that a flag.  And that looks stupid 100% of the time.  A seal can be a beautiful piece of art, incorporating a surprising amount of history into a (usually) circular emblem.  A flag, however, is not a history of one’s city.  It is a symbolic representation of the city.  It’s an icon, a place reduced to the simplest form possible.  The United States flag is another great example of a former British Colonial flag that came into its own with the removal of the Union Jack.  The thirteen colonies had a flag, similar to the current United States flag, but instead of stars there was the Union Jack.  Changing that portion to a field of blue with a star for each state not only changed the meaning of the flag, but it retained its sense of history.  It acknowledges where we came from, but makes clear that we are no longer a part of the British Empire.

Flag_of_the_United_States.svgThe Great Seal of the United States, which can be seen on any one dollar bill, is beautiful.  It features an eagle clutching an olive branch in one talon, arrows in the other talon, thirteen stars above the eagle’s head and a banner in its beak with the motto e pluribus unum written on it.  The olives, leaves, stars, and arrows all number thirteen to honor the original colonies.  The reverse features a pyramid with the Eye of Providence, featuring annuit cœptis written above and novus ordo seclorum written in a banner underneath.  These symbols on our seal feel very american and very much a part of who we are.  The flag, however, is not that.  It has no motto written across it and the name of our country does not appear at the bottom to remind us of what it is for.  We don’t need that reminder, and because the flag is so simple, and fantastically so, neither does anyone else.

One of my favorite city seals is that of Tulsa, Oklahoma.  It’s a really lovelypiece that must look great on letterhead, on business cards, and affixed to the city’s buildings.  It says a lot about the city in a small space.  But the city’s flag is exactly that seal in the middle of a white flag.  It gets lost.  It has no power there and just fails to generate the power it should as a symbol of a city.  I’ve created my own, one I think that honors the city’s seal while becoming more of a symbol that could be adapted in a lot of ways,  making way for a unifier for a city.  It could be something one is proud to put on a bumper sticker or a a patch on a backpack.  Business could use parts of it to mark themselves as local.  It does, in my opinion, the things a flag should do.

It surprised me how much I cared about flags.  Roman mars had started his TED talk with the assertion that 100% of people care about flags.  I raised an eyebrow at that. I did not think I did care about flag all that much, but I really do.  And I think others do as well.  But I do think it’s harder than people think to create a great flag for a city. It would be nice for these flags to change and a symbol of pride become available for cities whose flags just don’t work.

I haven’t picked on Oklahoma’s state flag much.  The state flag of my state is nice, and the official version from 1925 to 1941 was fantastic.  “OKLAHOMA” was added to the flag in 1941, which was unnecessary.  Supposedly, it was done as a literacy statement, but I’m not really sure how the name of one’s state on a flag truly promotes literacy.  At this point, the lettering could go.  Nobody would confuse the flag with another state’s.  I might also stylize the elements a bit.  I was able to draw the flag when I was a kid, but I remember it being overly intricate.

While I was tackling Tulsa’s flag, I made a whole bunch of flags.  Some of them are for communities that are small enough that they have never had a flag of their own, some are redesigns.  One is even for a community that doesn’t have residents year-round.  All were thought through, giving consideration to the various specifics of the town or city.  And I couldn’t help myself – I made some for fantasy places too.  Let me know what you think.

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Saturday 3 June 1996

PB130146As I sit here in the warm plane, I just think how wonderful today has been.  I woke up at 6:30 and got ready to go.  I then watched Good Morning America.  At around 8:00 we left.  We stopped by Albertson’s and then to the airport.  It was great.  I had no idea what I was doing and Ann was no better off.  I got situated and we stopped for something to eat.  For eats we found a $3.00 slice of pizza and a $2.00 “deal” of fruit and 2 beverages for $3.00.  It was okay though.  About 10 minutes after getting our food, Stan shows up with some magazines for me.  He got People and US.  After a little bit, we went to the gate, located my group and after an embarrassing underwear question from Stan we were off.  I got on the sardine can of a plane and was a little nervous but as soon as we got going my fears had subsided somewhat.  Taking off was the most exhilarating feeling.  We were off — destination: Atlanta.  I could see nothing.  I was on an aisle seat.  We stopped and got off.  We had no idea how far we had to go but we caught a subway type vehicle which took us to where we wanted to go.  We got on; the plane was much larger.  It was a lot more fun but I was already used to it.  We had heard of some rain in New York, but what I saw was sunshine a clouds below.  As we descended through the clouds the wings appeared to be slick and then water droplets started on the windows.  When we got to the ground it was a messy rain, wet and soggy.  I noticed as I got out that luggage is treated very poorly.  Better bring souvenirs back on plane!  We got off and noticed immediatly that the airport in Atlanta was much prettier and had a larger Delta wing.  We just walked right to the gate and then went and ate.  I had breadsticks and a drink for $3.00.  We shopped at all the places and went back to the gate and waited for our flight to board.  There a lady walked up to us and asked if we were Mme Wright’s group.  It was Linda Dobbs!  She is the new leader.  She acts real nice.  We get on the plane and I am sitting next to a pro!  She goes right to sleep.  I sleep a little and then dinner is served.  It was a shrimp meal.  It was wonderful.  I never thought I’d like airplane food.  Wow.  And now I’m on my way.  In the morning we will have a continental breakfast.

» 27 August 2007

Mme Wright, our French teacher had very recently suffered an aneurism.  Everything had been planned and paid for.  After a meeting with all of the parents, it was decided that we should go on our scheduled tour, but be under the supervision of the leader of the group we were going to be with.  Even Mike Wright, Mme’s son, went on the trip with us.  We started the trip with 4 groups.  There was our group from Stillwater, OK, Mme Dobbs’ group from Caldwell, Idaho, a group from Wagoner, OK, and a group from Cincinatti, OH.  The Wagoner and Cincinatti groups were both on a one week tour; Stillwater and Caldwell would continue on for another week after that.

I was in awe of air travel.  It seemed so exotic to me, as I had never been on a plane before.  At the airport in Tulsa, Stan took the only picture of me that I would get on the entire trip.  That is one of the biggest regrets I have of my life.

JFK airport seemed dirty to me.  While we waited there, we were approached several times by “deaf-mutes” selling trinkets.  The entire place had a very grey feeling about it, as if nobody really wanted to be there.  The heavy rains blocked our view, concealing my first and only glimse of the New York skyline.  I could just make it out, like a Magic Eye picture, only if I relaxed my eyes and titled my head slightly.  And then, only the twin towers reminded me that this was New York City and not just a mound of something in the distance.  I felt cheated out of an experience, even though I was not really in New York and would not be going there; I still wanted to see it since I had gotten so close.

» 5 March 2016

19-vintage-photos-that-show-what-new-york-city-looked-like-in-the-1980sAs a kid, I always assumed I would end up living in New York as an adult.  It was just a part of the plan.  Maybe that assumption was a result of movies and TV.  There certainly is a New York / L.A. bias that runs periodically through entertainment.  Television in the nineties was certainly New York-centric, and that likely influenced who I imagined I would be.  However, my love of the city had definitely started earlier than that.  I particularly remember segments on Sesame Street featuring city workers and trucks, traffic and streets crawling with people.  If I was exposed to those videos for the first time today, I would focus on the dirt or the noise.  I wouldn’t care for it.  But at the time it felt magical, very different from my decidedly non-urban life in Stillwater, Oklahoma.

The reality would be that as of 2016, I’ve never been to New York.  My trip to France was my first and only time in an airport in the state, and it was so rainy I could just barely make out the city’s skyline.  What I failed to appreciate at the time was the gritty nature of the airport, a feature that wouldn’t last.  I say appreciate because it was a unique experience and I have always enjoyed unusual experiences.  As long as it isn’t causing me harm, I enjoy being in new places and in new situations.

I haven’t thought much about Atlanta, or hadn’t much when I was a kid.  Sure, I watched Designing Women, but that hardly shows anything of the city where it takes place.  It came as a complete shock when I first saw the size of the city.  It was a trial by fire as we were rushed from one plane to the next.  While we weren’t in Georgia for long, it certainly reminded me of one of those cartoons where a small guy holds open a door for someone and an enormous crowd piles in as well, leaving the poor guy startled and disheveled.  All of us from Stillwater rushed our way through the airport and onto the next plane.

stumblers_2

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Saturday 1 June 1996

As I went to work I realized the excitement and joy of the opportunity I have made possible for myself.  I am going to France!  I will be allowed to remain in another country for a time of two weeks!  Chessie starts today.  I hope she works out. If she does we’ll share hours at work.  I just don’t know what to think.  Tomorrow we will be going to Tulsa.  Brad is going for a week.  I will be going to the airport with Ann Monday morning.  Wow!!  My first plane, my first out-of-country experience and the first time I’ve gone East of Arkansas.  I just cannot wait.

» 27 August 2007

In truth, this was not an opportunity that I had created for myself.  Far from it.  This opportunity was made possible by the generosity of my Mimi and Papa, as well as sizable donations from my parents.  I had worked for a year and saved almost nothing.  It was not me who got me there, but my family who realized that I really wanted to go.

I did know what to think about sharing my job with the new girl who was starting.  I didn’t like it.  I felt liked I had worked really hard to be important to the Villa, where I worked, and didn’t appreciate having someone come in to “help,” as it just seemed like she was cutting my paychecks in half, which she did. In the end, she did not work out and I worked alone until I left for college over a year later.  Interesting side note:  my one and only date with a girl was with Chessie.  We went to the fair in September of the same year.  It was actually a lot of fun.

» 27 February 2016

I’m so excited to revisit this journal after twenty years.  I cannot believe it’s been so long!  Recently, I was driving my nephew home from my parents’ house and it dawned on me that he is only two years younger than I was when I went to France.  That seems so untrue and amazing that I hardly knew what to do with that information.  It was during that talk that we discussed the concept of memory.  He was asking me about the concept of time seeming to go by when one is older.  I thought about that and hypothesized that perhaps what is at play is how our memories can stick to us, how things that happened decades ago can seem so clear still, as though those things might’ve happened yesterday.  The older we get, the more of those memories we have and it all just starts to feel compressed as if life hadn’t been as long as it was.

I remember 1996.  I remember it like I remember last month.  I remember my feelings, my desires, my motivations, and my philosophies.  I remember my secrets.  I remember spending lunches with my friends buying CDs at the local music store, and how much I loved my time washing dishes at my job because it gave me time to drift away into my own thoughts.  I remember the feeling of being caught between loving my family whose company I truly valued and needing very much not to be around them.  I remember spending too much time with my friends.  And I remember not being all that adventurous or daring, a trait I have always attributed to being very cerebral and lost in my own head.  I did not have a wild side; it never seemed to develop, which has been disappointing at various points during my life, but ultimately, I’ve been satisfied with being grounded.

In my teens, I romanticized everything, and often wondered if others were doing that as well.  At fifteen or sixteen, I didn’t have those words for my friends, didn’t understand the value of an open heart, and so I’d wonder about how people see the world for a long time.  It wasn’t until I had nephews and nieces that I got to see other people who were experiencing the world in ways that seemed so familiar.  My oldest nephew, the one with whom I discussed memory, has a tendency to romanticize his world.  It’s nice to see things through rose-colored glasses — I still try to wear them as often as possible — but he will experience a fair amount of disappointment when the world reveals itself for what it really is, a feeling that nobody can prepare him for.

Favim.com-9757France stood as a fantasy world, somehow existing in our modern world as both very much a part of the 1930s, 1960s, and somewhat 1980s.  To my sixteen year old eyes, it seemed not lost in time, but purposely wrapped in the past, a land joyously refusing to become something it did not want to be.  I loved that about it and could not have cared less about how unlikely my notions of French life might be.  I wanted so much for it to be that land I had invented.

The opportunity to go to France had been presented in 1994 in French class.  I was only too eager to join the group, assuming that others in my class would go as well… friends.  I looked forward to it from the moment I saw the green light in the eyes of my parents and grandparents.  I was told I’d have to pay for half, which motivated me to get a job in 1995, but my youth would ultimately stand in the way of acting responsibly and saving money.  I never really did.  The trip should’ve been called off, but perhaps the adults in my life realized the size of this opportunity.  Perhaps they knew its impact would last well beyond the two weeks we would be gone.  Perhaps they knew that I had in fact worked hard at my job, in spite of my lack of ability to save the money, ultimately deciding to reward me for that.  I’m not sure.  What I do know is that I was allowed to go.  I was not prepared, not mature enough, but I was going anyway.

Sunday 2 June 1996

1_9cd8580cbcd0e41e8765f55eb60c4e3cI am at Ann’s.  This morning we did not go to church but rather we went to Stroud.  There I bought some new headphones, a CD, a get-well card for Mme Wright, and some stuff at the toy store.  I got a Limber Louie, a marionette of an unusual looking bird.  The sides control his feet so that he can appear to walk.  I am having a hard time stopping my thoughts of what France will be like.  I have absolutely no IDEA!  Becky and Brad are going to a work camp where they paint houses.  I also bought some Furr Balls lil’ stuffed toys with rubber faces.  I have had quite a day and can’t wait — think, tomorrow I’ll be on a plane to Paris.  Wow!

» 27 August 2007

Yep, spent a bunch of money BEFORE going to Europe.  I honestly had no idea how dumb that would end up being.  Blue and furry Louie lived in a box for years.  I eventually lost him and now do not know where he ended up.  I do not miss him.

» 27 February 2016

Sometimes things can happen in life and the impact can seem like it will be quite small, but it turns out the be huge.  Shortly before leaving on our trip, the French teacher and our chaperone Mme Wright suffered a brain aneurysm.  She would recover, but was unable to go with us to France.  The parents met and decided to let us go without her.  Money had already been paid — nonrefundable at that point — and most of those going were already eighteen.  I was the youngest at sixteen.  We weren’t going to be left to our own.  We would meet up with another group on our way and their teacher agreed to keep an eye on us.  That group was always going to be with us during the entire two weeks.

Kids should be educated on money and saving in school.  It should come up throughout the twelve years of school and be a mandatory part of the curriculum.  Add to that other everyday skills such as interviewing for jobs, interacting with others in public, how to wait in lines patiently, cooking, cleaning, how to apply for a loan, how to pay back loans.  These are all very important life skills we forget to teach kids.  I always had the things I wanted.  Sure, I remember my mom and dad telling me I couldn’t have this or that, but I never felt like I wanted for anything.  It was a cushy, middle-class life.  Understanding money didn’t play much of a roll at that time in my life.

I was facing a major opportunity, an event so pivotal to my life that I would carry it with me forever.  It would inform my future relationships, jobs, and where I would choose to live.  It would be the thing I would revert to for comfort or when I wanted to remember a certain kind of emotional pain.  And it would take as much money as I could hold onto to keep me going for the two weeks.  Still, I thought it appropriate to buy toys at an outlet mall the day before I left.  I had been doing a lot of fighting to keep the little kid part of me from going forward with me in life, and this is just one example of where I failed.  As setbacks go, it probably seems somewhat inconsequential, but it seems like an important part of understanding who I was in that moment, who I had been until then, and who I ultimately was to become as a result of the trip.

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I want to comment on my journals I kept when I was a child.  This came about as the 20th anniversary of my trip to France approaches and I would really like to update my thoughts and give some back story.  I was 16 at the time of the trip, an age during which I felt extremely self conscious.  Although I expected my journal to remain private, I still left out things I didn’t want others to know.  I wish I could take that trip again.

I should start by pointing out that i haven’t read my childhood journals in a long time.  In the case of the one I kept in Junior High & High School, I haven’t read them since I wrote them.  I have no idea what I had to say, but I’m going to put it out there anyway.

1

Jan. 2 1990

New Years

New Years is sharing,

caring,giving, and loving,

growing, seeing, living,

and moving on.

•Fuchs•

!Happy!

!New Year!

Brian F

2

Dec. 16, 1990

What is Christmas?

Christmas is loving and

caring,

It’s for being with

family and friends.

Christmas is kids

in the snow and puppies

by the fireplace.

It’s for Daddys with

the news paper,

For Mommys sewing

by the fire

Christmas…………….

The best time of the year!

•Fuchs•

Merry Christmas

Brian F

3

Nov. 28, 1990

Weather

Weather, Weather Every-

where,

You find it in the air.

Rain, snow, sleet, sun,

Some are gloomy some

are fun,

Hardy, soft, or inbetween,

Comes down hard and mean.

Now thats weather all

about,

and thats no doubt!

•Fuchs•

Brian F

4

Nov. 29, 1990

A Friend

A friend is what you

make of one,

Not what you want

from one.

•Fuchs•

F. F. L.

r   o  i

i   r   f

e      e

n

d

s

Brian F

Okay, that was mildly embarrassing.  I was 10 when I wrote the first one and 11 for the rest.  What I find the most interesting is that the journal I used was inscribed to me by my dad on November 7, 1988.  I have clearly ripped out some pages, which is unfortunate.  Seeing what I had to write at 9 would have been very interesting.  These poems were clearly written elsewhere and transcribed into this journal at a later date.  I had only recently discovered poetry, so it isn’t surprising that I was trying to write it.  My first poem was written in October 1988.

Fall Leaves

Fall winds swish around leaves of red,

orange, and yellow

The cool sand is nice, you see birds,

the grass feels good

Squirrels and birds gather food, it is

nice to walk around

Pumpkins decorations are neat and

fantastic

Jack-O-Lanterns are now on our porch,

fall has arrived.

Brian Fuchs

I was 9 when I wrote that and it somehow has more to it that the ones I wrote later.  Fall Leaves was written for class, so that could explain why my effort was greater as well.  As for the others, New Years seems to say nothing at all.  What is Christmas? is interesting.  It neither matches my life experience or that of the general population.  It speaks to an idealized Victorian era Christmas that I remember being rather popular in the late 1980s and early 1990s.  Weather is clearly an attempt at rhyming, which I wasn’t terribly great at then and which I don’t attempt now.  Finally, the very short A Friend.  I had several books of proverbs as a kid.  This was almost certainly my attempt at writing my own proverb.

These poems as a whole say very little of my life in 1990.  They don’t have much to say at all really.

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Looking over my past work reminds me of how much I love creating and have greatly missed being able to work the way I’d like.  I’m getting closer to having more space, which will be nice and I hope to have a permanent solution within the next year that will give me both a lot of space and less chaos in my house.

Getting back to my work feels different this time.  I’ve had a lot of time to consider where I am headed, but I don’t know that I arrived at an answer.  I know where I see myself, but it just doesn’t feel as real as I would like.  Maybe I’m just letting fear do my speaking for me.  There certainly isn’t any reason why I cannot achieve those things I dream about.  And there is certainly no reason my art couldn’t propel me into where I want to be.  When I am open to it, I love my art.

On that note, it is amazing how much my art reflects what is going on in my life.  Over last summer, when life seemed really relaxed, I was able to create very easily and had a lot of fun.  Over the past couple of months, on the other hand, my drawings seem off and I haven’t picked up a paint brush since December.  I don’t feel inspired.  I feel claustrophobic, stuck, pushed down.  And that is easily explained.  I started feeling odd December 15, which developed quickly into the flu, which lasted for a couple of weeks and then turned into pneumonia.  I’ve technically been well for a month now, but I’m still coughing things up, and I have yet to feel as energetic as I did early in December.  It’s so hard to stay positive through that.  Meanwhile, I’m trying to coordinate new flooring in my house.  The boxes of flooring are waiting on my porch and I have to move as much as possible from the house into the shed.

I don’t mean to complain.  I don’t like complaining.  My point is that I’ve just been in such a non-creative headspace.  I am looking forward to a year full of art, life, and family.  I want it to be a productive and successful year.  I’m looking at 2016 as the year that prepares my life to make sense.  2017 is looking like a year when I can just relax.  I’ve been in a state of flux and upheaval for 3 years now.  Settling down is going to be amazing.

I’m interested in so many things that I hope to add to my website.  I’m looking into hand painting plates and glasses, various types of collage, painting canvases, having cards printed, and making ornaments for Christmas.  I’m also super-obsessed with all things fairy garden, but I’m terrible with plants.  I’m brainstorming a way to use the concept of the fairy garden/house to make something more “Brian” in nature.  A few years ago, I made these caged fairy animals as gifts.  That was fairy similar, but I think I can take this idea a little further.  There is just so much to think about and so much to do.  I hope you enjoy this blog.  Feel free to message me with things you’d like me to write about or any suggestions on art to try.

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I’ve been thinkinHomeg about the concept of ‘home’ for a while now.  What is it that give our spaces that feeling that makes us feel good being there.  It isn’t uncommon for an apartment to feel distinctly not homey, particularly ones first apartment after leaving the house where parents and siblings still reside.  It makes tempting the idea that it is the people that make for a feeling of ‘home.’  But it seems equally common for an apartment to feel like the place where that person will spend the rest of their life.  And that happens to folks who live alone.  So, is it the people at all?

I love being with my family.  There was always something about returning for a visit to my childhood home that had a fantastic mix of nostalgia, comfort, and distance.  In 2005, I moved far enough away that visiting required planning and money; my visits to my hometown were reduced to about once every two years.  By my first visit, my parents had sold my childhood home and moved to the country into a brand new manufactured home while they planned out their dream home.  There was no way, I thought, to feel at home in a mobile home sat in the trees just outside of town.

I was wrong.  While it wasn’t the same, the feeling was.  I was in a house that had only even existed for about a year, but it was filled with familiar furniture and my parents.  For me, that ruled out the structure and the location.  What seemed to be at play was the combination of the people, the memories I carried with me, and the stuff in the house.  Had my parents simultaneously discovered their mutual love for Victorian furnishings, throwing out the carefully cultivated collection of things in the house, I think the space would have felt as cold as I expected it to.  These objects brought with them the stories that define us as a family.

“I always want objects in my home that have a connection to me or something I’ve loved.  It’s still stuff, but it’s stuff that has meaning.” Nate Berkus makes a great point, and one I’d like to explore in depth for myself.  When I had one of those cold apartments, just out of high school, it was filled with items I can barely remember, mass produced and cheap things.  The only items I even clearly recall are items that had a story, even if the item wasn’t old.  The dresser my dad painted for me for my new place, the sofa he reupholstered, and that is about it.  It would take me years to collect items of meaning, to be given things once belonging to grandparents and parents, and to have the maturity to honor those things and treat them with the respect they had earned.

Six months ago, I moved into the mobile home where my parents spent years hoping to build their dream home.  They settled into their new house over the summer, leaving vacant a space that had surprised me, on a land that is peaceful and beautiful.  I’m honored to live here in this space that has become a part of the story, where my nephews spent so much of their childhood, where birthdays were celebrated, where holidays with family were enjoyed, and where my parents lived and loved and convalesced.

Many of the stories are lost; it had been incumbent on me to ask the necessary questions and carry on the mythologies and lessons of my family, but I have failed to do so.  But I’d still like to explore what meanings these artifacts have for my life, for the lives of my family members, to recall the world in which they came to us and present them to the world.

This is the first entry in a series about my things.

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Dale

I sought the council of trees, Dale’s name lingering in my head,
hoping to glean wisdom from the aged assembly,
hoping to hear God through the woody branches.
I studied the structure of oak leaves, how each attached to a branch;
watched sunlight fall through the new growth on cedars;
made note of the greenbriar’s leafy fingers wrapping around the trunks of pecans.
The world was still and hot and dotted with tiny white butterflies
emerging from the thickets to enjoy a field of nectar-filled flowers in the afternoon sun.
My mind had been typically cluttered, with family dramas,
thirteen years of grief, first loves, comedy routines,
and parts of a jingle from a TV commercial I remembered from childhood.
Sitting in the surrounding quiet, I waited for the ancient botanical knowledge,
letting those thoughts drop away, heavy and viscous,
and leaving behind a calm in which I could almost hear the butterflies landing on petals.
The wind came gently then, in small bursts that the oaks seem to enjoy,
allowing the trees to flit thousands of leaves about merrily.
A rustle, a calm and relaxing rustle accompanied by silent mimics,
of a host of lesser plants vying for the favor of the post oaks,
standing as the monarchs of this dry woodland.
A slightly stronger breeze, a creaking sound as older specimens swayed,
some long dead, the bony outer branches moaning hauntingly in the current.
The tranquility was broken, butterflies scattered unceremoniously into the air,
having been blown off their perches by a strong wind that moved through the grasses,
flattening it in waves as it moved across the expanses.
When the wind reached the sentinels of trees standing bravely against it,
they found themselves unprepared and leaves and branches erupted into chaos.
Dale had died.
He had been my namesake, the hero and villain of his own stories,
his name lingered, attached to mine as a reminder of who he no longer was
and as a reminder of who he had been capable of being,
a reminder of who we all had been, of what we wanted to say we had been.
And now he was gone. As the gust moved on in the distance,
stillness returned to the trees and I still faced them, waiting for answers.
We were all there, waiting for different pieces, prostrating ourselves before them.
The instructions were lost, the knowledge never passed on,
the person whose position had been placed so highly seeming to fade
with great distances, separated by different trees, grasses, weeds.
His name lingered, attached to mine as a reminder that we should hold on,
hold him up as he fell, his wings revealed to be a mirage.
It was not always enough, we were not always enough,
and we allowed Dale to slip into humanness.
The trees had again become silent. The distances now as close as they would ever be,
as far somehow as they had felt before when inscribed books would
arrive by mail, wrapped in symbols of birthdays or holidays or plainly
when a book had piqued Dale’s desire to share it with me,
a boy he barely knew, but to whom his name was attached.
And there were songs and great conversations, which are things
of which plants know little. And things that had defined him
so importantly that it felt proper to discuss them now, with God or the trees.
The heat had started to intensify; beads of sweat formed on my neck and face.
Still I waited, knowing that lives had become altered, knowing that we had reached
both the beginning and the end of everything.
And I thought about whittled walking sticks, carefully crafted from the new growth.
His name lingered in my mind, attached to the trees, I now realized, a part of it.
The presence of butterflies had increased in my focused state;
they now seemed to be everywhere, clustered on flowers
and dancing through the space between the trees.
I turned and went back to the house, knowing and not knowing,
melding now with the air and grass, with the trees.
And I thought about Dale, his name lingering there, attached to mine,
attached to the moment and those memories,
attached to the wings of hundreds of tiny butterflies
And I smiled because I had known him.

Notes

Brian Fuchs, “Dale” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

Written 25 July 2015 in Payne County, Oklahoma.