Roadrunner

This blog post mentions suicide.  National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 800-273-8255 available 24 hours in English and Spanish. 

Well, of course, I loved him. 

I loved him along with all others who followed his travels around the world and virtually placed themselves in the seat across from him, watching and listening as he flicked on the light of his curiosity.  

Anthony Bourdain shared his worldview as a storyteller.  He loved the strength of well-honed phrases  His rat-a-tat-tat verbal delivery sated the moment. He could have been writing songs he was so lyrical.

This oral finesse along with his bass timbre, lanky gate, commanding height created a navigation system that seemed unbeatable.

But, as we all know, that is the lie. No one is unbeatable.  We all need serious scaffolding to hold us up.

I recently watched this summer's release of Roadrunner, A Film About Anthony Bourdain, and Bourdain's suicide hurts my heart as much today as when he died in 2018.  

The film left me feeling surprisingly untethered; a reminder that the bruises of suicide don't necessarily heal for the living - even those of us watching from the very, very cheap seats.  

Bourdain first popped up on my radar during his No Reservations show on the Travel Channel followed by CNN's Parts Unknown. His appeal was as the cool kid who could lure the viewer into his shenanigans.  We were invited to be his co-conspirators and we could almost hear him utter, "Psssst....come see this!"

A favorite Parts Unknown episode for me aired three months following Bourdain's death.  W. Kamau Bell (I am a big fan of his United Shades of America show) and Bourdain traveled to Kenya - a country neither man had ever visited. Bell's middle  name - Kamau - is Kenyan meaning 'quiet warrior.'

Bourdain savored Bell's discomfort watching goat's head soup being prepared for him. Bell knew the time and space shared was precious and noted this arc while the two sat perched before the golden vista in the Lewa Wildlife Conservancy. It cemented a connection to each other, to Kenya, to Nature, to Life, to feeling small in the raw, wide world. 

I saw it as another perfect example of how Bourdain drew in his guests, his guides, and his viewers determined that they experience the marrow of the moment.

As someone who loves to cook and bake, who delights in reading about food, who pours over recipes, and follows chefs, cooks etc. on social media, I was naturally intrigued by Bourdain's iterations of travel/food television shows. I watched and listened intently always appreciating his ability to straddle being relaxed and edgy as he sought to unspool the essence of location - always appreciating it with a touch of humility. 

I had never read Bourdain's insider Kitchen Confidential until after he died. While I prefer to read the print version of books, I deferred to the audio version listening to it each night as I prepared dinner at home. I chopped, seared, blended, and mashed paying a small homage to this cook turned chef turned author turned TV host turned famous man of the world.  I reveled in the many faces of Bourdain.

My choice of an audiobook had a singular motivation: I hungered to hear him spin tales.

It was excruciatingly clear while watching Roadrunner how Bourdain's many friends and co-workers who appeared in the film did so because of their shared craving to reminisce, to wonder, to search for answers.  Not one of them had yet to find someplace to rest their grief.  

The film's power for me came from this repeated universal need to experience their compadre; to talk of him in shared pain and joy; to utter their loss and struggle as they felt impotent in knowing he slipped through the bonds of their friendship.  

Bourdain insisted he was not a good friend ("I'm not going to remember your birthday") and yet many lined up to be his. He was the guy they all wanted to be around.  And now they couldn't. 

In the 2017 Tony award winner for Best Musical The Band's Visit, the final song's lyrics titled Answer Me bubbled up as I watched Roadrunner.

All alone,

In the quiet,

Ah, my ears are thirsty

For your voice,

For your voice,

Can you answer me?

Criticism of the film's intent noted it as "a snippy tell-all" pointing to heavy focus on Bourdain's TV shows and too little focus on his hefty career in restaurant kitchens and heroin addiction as a young man. I did not see it this way but I understand how the author arrived here. All loss leaves a mark.    https://www.wbur.org/news/2021/07/15/roadrunner-anthony-bourdain-documentary-review  

The article's critic included a spot-on bit from comedian Dave Chappelle's 2019 show Sticks and Stones that referenced a sort of celebrity sleight-of-hand when we think we know how good life must be for famous, rich folk. Chappelle reminded us that Bourdain's death telegraphs one truth: "No matter what it might look like from the outside, you don't know what the f--- is going on inside." 

In 1980, I visited my brother Vincent in Maui for three weeks. His newly claimed home blew open my worldview.  We saw the island from the sea, air, and land and the boxes of slides that resulted in my unquenchable thirst to capture it all numbered in the "way too many" range.  I wanted to share all of it upon returning home and did so to a very patient group of co-workers held hostage by my "you gotta see this" slide show. I easily fell into the 'vacation slides sharing' trap.  (I again apologize to those lovely co-workers.)

I offer this only to say it's easy to overshare.  Bourdain did the opposite of this. He managed to lure us in as travel companions even in this world where any internet search will provide easy context for all things exotic.  We wanted him and his point of view to guide us. 

He managed to deftly describe important moments, making them important to those of us who loved his work. 

Morgan Neville, Roadrunner Director created a 100-song playlist of favorite titles randomly mentioned by Bourdain with some added by the chef's friends.  

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/anthony-bourdain-roadrunner-playlist-1200455/

Listening to it while I meandered through this post I was unsurprised by the 

beat-thumping, electric guitar-laden push of Patti Smith's High on Rebellion, Elvis Costello's Lipstick Vogue, or New Order's Blue Monday.  

These seemed to represent Bourdain's velocity.

Also notable were unexpected softer choices such as the Beach Boys' God Only Knows, The Velvet Underground's Sweet Jane, Earth, Wind, and Fire's That's The Way of the World, and Kevin Morby's Beautiful Stranger. 

I think these, like much of his offerings, pulsed from his soul.   

Roadrunner isn't perfect and neither was Bourdain. We are all just fragile humans. 

Two more links to Roadrunner reviews:

https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/anthony-bourdain-movie-roadrunner-doesn-t-allow-life-s-loose-ncna1274895

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/15/movies/roadrunner-a-film-about-anthony-bourdain-review.html

Article on the use of artificial intelligence technology to replicate Bourdain's voice in the film:

https://www.npr.org/2021/07/16/1016838440/ai-brought-anthony-bourdains-voice-back-to-life-should-it-have

Between the Lines

I lock the bedroom door behind me and perch at the end of my bed as I am filled with tingly expectation.  I have invested in this moment for the last month. The well timed payoff is tonight.  I feel more and more like myself as I watch the clock inch closer to the prearranged start time.  This will have been worth all the effort- I know it!

It is the early 1990s.  In those years I have changed employers, been promoted, moved twice, married, bought my first (and only) home, and given birth to a sweet baby girl.  In hindsight, this whirlwind of change seems less like who I know myself to be. Yet, Life's goal lines move fast as a thirty-something woman and I'm determined to meet every single one. 

In those days, an hour-long daily rail commute into the city usually finds me doing work reviewing resumes of potential job candidates. (This is way before algorithms usurped the task.)  The quiet, uninterrupted block of train time is perfect for this effort.  It is a better choice than using the gorgeous exhale of eventide after I put my infant daughter to bed.  

Yet, I yearn to read something more for myself - the Me who is not someone's wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, employee.  I rediscover my love for reading books. 

Reading has, for as along as I can remember, been pure pleasure.  Summer days in the late sixties, early seventies were spent reclined on the hard plastic cushions of my parent's front porch iron glider as I gently rocked to and fro, a book resting on my tanned stomach.  Our restless little street of compressed row homes bursting with kids and pets faded away on this screened-in roost once I cracked open those blessed pages. 

Whether I was transfixed by Mario Puzo's The Godfather (before the film release) or entertained by the mindless fluff of Coffee, Tea or Me? (and its sequel) I did what most readers do - willingly offered myself over to an author's invented or real world. 

(Fun fact: I seriously considered becoming an airline stewardess (not yet called flight attendants) because of the fictional hijinks of characters Trudy Baker and Rachel Jones and completed applications to a few airlines in my senior year of high school.  Airlines could incredibly still ask for such personal data as birth date, height, weight, hair color, eye color.  My work as a corporate recruiter years later would see this type of job application as folly (and discriminatory) but at the time, I was all in and, sadly, rejected due to my age.)

Back in my adult bedroom, filled with anticipation, I turn on the radio to my local NPR station - 90.9FM WHYY - and its inaugural book club radio show.  This predates Oprah's infamous book club.  Amy Tan's The Kitchen God's Wife is on the docket. I have gleefully devoured its rich story and am poised to hear what others think as well as listen to Ms. Tan field questions, share her writing experience, and inhale the intimacy of her responses.  I stare at the radio during the hour long show trying to conjure an image of the author as she describes her story's intention and her complex relationship with her mother.  

Fellow listeners/readers call in with questions.  I comment aloud to them.  It is more interactive than I could have imagined and ends much too swiftly.  This, I murmur, this is what I have been missing! This radio book club becomes my literary life raft as I navigate the world of adulting. 

Several years later a friend kindly invites me to join her book club.  Two decades after this sweet solicitation, this precious book club sustains the reader, writer, inquisitor alive within.  While we fellow readers navigate Life's relentless drumbeat of births, miscarriages, divorces, raising kids, jobs, second marriages, and the crushing death of a beloved friend/member, we hunker down for the essential purpose of gathering - to discuss the book.  

This is no wine club posing as a book club. We enthusiastically do a deep dive into the authors' efforts, parsing themes, imagery, plot, symbolism and character development as well as criticizing what failed to resonate.  We read passages aloud that have touched or deepened our understanding.    

Biographies, autobiographies, poetry, short stories collections, science, fantasy, classics;  all genres come calling each third Thursday as the host chooses that month's literary selection.  My preference for fiction has been forcibly pried open as some books take me to uncharted territory.  

I have learned to trust the diverse process because whether or not a book fully satisfies is secondary to what I will learn in conversation with my fellow Book Babes.  Discussion always ignites something my reading failed to consider. It is sweet reward, a jackpot moment where context broadens and interpretation sparkles. 

Visitors from the Netherlands, Poland, and Australia have enjoyed membership to our group adding rich worldviews.  Our Aussie friend, Vicki, travels to our town several times a year for work. She stays up to date on what we are reading so she can literally jump in on the discussion.  It is magnificent. 

We have met in the Poconos, at the shore, and on several patios by candlelight during  dreamy, warm summer nights.  We've enjoyed a poetry evening where everyone arrives with a memorized poem because, as our then 90 year old guest host, Mrs. Van Pelt, noted, "Everyone must have at least one poem ready to recite from memory in their lifetime!" She would regale us with her favorites: The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere and The Walrus and The Carpenter.  

Every so often a member hosts a couples night where our 'special someones' join in the conversation.  This gender mixed gathering consistently produces some of the richest discussions.  Even food sometimes plays a silent role in our discussion when we nosh on meals or morsels contained in that month's narrative. 

As a bonus to all this goodness, Joanie, an original member, consistently emails a discussion recap to the group so those who missed the evening can still share in the conversation. I am grateful for all of it! 

In the Fall, one of our members will see her original work published! This feat amazes. We will enjoy another first - the member/author of our monthly selection will be at the table to take questions and share her process.  Look for A Time Traveler's Theory of Relativity by the talented Nicole Valentine later this year! (published by Lerner/Carolrhoda Books)

Let me close this love letter to reading with conversation openers I've used for all these years. They are questions I love to ask and be asked.  I hope you'll reply: 

 "What have you read lately and what did you think?"  

Note: In 2014, we were featured in an on-air book club discussion of Karen Russell's Sleep Donation. Here is the link to the post I wrote about that experience: https://asubjectforconsideration.blogspot.com/2014/07/on-radio-whoaohhhhhoh.html

                                

                  Some recent book club selections

 

“Some books are tool kits you take up to fix things, from the most practical to the most mysterious, from your house to your heart, or to make things, from cakes to ships. Some books are wings… Some books are medicine, bitter but clarifying.”  Rebecca Solnit

Read more about Rebecca Solnit and how books saved her life on the always interesting brain pickings website:  “https://www.brainpickings.org/

The Book Lady

The front license plate on my car reads "Peace  Love  Books."  The order of importance often changes but the trilogy's intrinsic value remains steady:  I wish for peace, I insist on love, and I cherish books.

License plate

When I read that Dolly Parton was recently at the Library of Congress to celebrate the delivery of her Imagination Library's 100th million book, I felt all three of these imperatives. Her program has put children ages birth to 5 and books together since 1995. This amazing milestone shows how Dolly leads with love.  

Dolly's impact was minimal in my world until a few years ago when my friend Susan asked if I would join her to see a concert at the Mann Center in Philadelphia.  Such an invitation would usually have a 99% acceptance rate by me.  But, I had to pause when she noted who was performing: Dolly Parton.  

Hmmmm.  Country music was not atop my list of preferred music genres.  I knew only two of Dolly's songs:  "Jolene" and "9 to 5." (And yes, I knew she wrote/sang "I Will Always Love You" but it is the more infamous Whitney Houston version I kept on my playlist.) I tried to let Susan down gently.  

As a lifelong Dolly fan, Susan would not back down.  She grew up in Missouri listening to Dolly's albums at home.  The music not only helped her navigate the pain of a challenging childhood, its message offered motivation for what one can achieve through persistence regardless of your life's circumstances.  She was not going to be pushed aside by my glib indifference. 

Susan persisted.  I am forever grateful that she did.

The evening held so many satisfying moments:  Dolly's pitch perfect voice, her self-aware humor, her musicianship (she played at least 8 different instruments) her deep catalog of songs, her homespun sincerity, her laughter  - oh the list is long.  The wide age range of her audience also reinforced her vast, enduring appeal.  

Scenes from Dolly Parton in concert at the Mann Center
.Philadelphia, PA June 2016

But what slowly, endearingly drew me in was the overwhelming warmth and kindness this petite bedazzled country girl sent out across the audience from the  moment her stiletto heels walked into the spotlight until she waved her final goodnight y'all.  

Dolly's glamorous exterior makes it hard turn away. I realized it is an intentional ploy to catch our attention.  Once she has it, she is masterful in keeping it with her profound talent and unbridled love.  In that large concert venue, she managed to spread her love to each of us (even skeptical me.)  I cried at the sheer tonnage of its impact. 

This month, Dolly did it again when she sat in front of pre-schoolers and read to them in our nation's library.  She made headlines for her impressive non-musical efforts to ensure young children have consistent access to books.  She continues to lead with love. 

What began as a county wide effort in her rural Tennessee home has grown into this magnificent national outreach where she is called The Book Lady.  Dolly affirms her role by working with local libraries, government agencies, and other non-profits to put the world into children's hands to help set them up to become lifelong readers.  "I think that if you read it can give you wings to fly,"  Dolly noted to reporters at the DC event.    

It was much too easy for me to dismiss Dolly as some glittery country singer before I saw her in concert.   I sadly believed her overdone look made her unimportant. Her Imagination Library's amazing multi-million book moment reinforced what a fool my pre-concert self had been to judge this amazing book by her cover. 

On this International Women's Day, it is a joy to celebrate Dolly.  

Link to the 100th million book event at the Library of Congress:
https://www.npr.org/sections/ed/2018/03/01/589912466/dolly-parton-gives-the-gift-of-literacy-a-library-of-100-million-books

On The Radio ~ Whoa~ohhhhh~oh~

We said it really loud, we said it on the air, on the radio....

 

The only thing this post has in common with Donna Summer is that the topic takes place in the summer ...on the radio.  I just could not resist her lyrics because my book club has gone audio!

We've been chosen to discuss Karen Russell's latest effort, "Sleep Donation," on WNYC's radio program The Takeaway. The discussion airs noon, Wednesday, July 9 on your local NPR station.  In Philly, it is WHYY 90.9 FM.

Through some website scrutiny and quick action (not to mention salesmanship, Joanie!) by a couple of book club members, show producers chose our group as the second this season to chat with host John Hockenberry about one of their summer picks.

L to R:  Me, Lou, Joanie

Sadly, logistics  allowed for only three of the nine  members to tape the segment, so tough choices (members voting by 'secret ballot') were made and Joanie Badyna, Lou Elder and I recently headed to WHYY studios in Philadelphia to tape the session.   

Electric may best describe our energy level as our trio drove to the radio station; it was powered by robust virtual support from fellow bookworms: Karen Albaugh, Lynne Dore, Leslie Dudt, Karen Fleming, Laura Smith, and Nicole Valentine.    

Our book club, informally called by some (as in me)  Book Babes, has been 'on the books' for 17 years! We have over 190 novels checked off in the Read and Discussed column.  Classics, current fiction and non-fiction, young adult fiction, poetry, song lyrics, and even children's books are represented among our diverse picks.  Whether or not a book resonates becomes secondary once we dig into themes, characters, and relatability.  The discussion trumps taste each month. 


At WHYY studios, Philadelphia, PA

Once the radio taping date was secured, the Babes met a few days earlier to talk about the novella for June.  As usual, everyone came armed for discussion.

Questions about why we grieve and how  it can deny its own purpose, the consequences of lying for a common good, the power of  blind devotion, and the blurred lines of technology overuse peppered the conversation as we wrestled with the author's ability to prick at our fears.

"Sleep Donation" introduces a world where unexplained, deadly insomnia spreads rapidly. Citizens who can sleep are urged to offer up the treasured commodity to help the sleepless.

The non-profit Sleep Corps hungrily recruits sleep donors. Its most effective recruiter, Trish Edgewater, uses the awful story of her sister Dori's death as the tool to gain precious donations. Her potent tale brings in a sole universal donor - the holy grail in the fight against the epidemic.  This pure provider is a powerless six month old baby.

Issues with grief, technology, parenting, non-profit entities, trust, greed, and human connection swirl around this believable world. 

Russell's brief tale echoes the early paranoia that surrounded the start of the AIDS epidemic as fear and misinformation rattled lives. Sleep (just like blood) is a universal need now tainted, and the author describes Trish's sorrow in sanguine terms as a "grief hemophiliac."

While a specific cause for the epidemic is never noted, possible reasons include the abuse of sleep aids, a 24/7 news cycle, and "glowing device" overuse. Ironically, the fiction is only available as an e-book, so the author simultaneously warns us and baits us as we turn on our luminous devices to read.

Show producers conducted phone pre-interviews with each of us.  They were interested in the book's impact and themes that triggered something within us.  And they encouraged us to be lively (ha! no trouble there) and conversational, commenting on each other's remarks (again, no issue there!)  

Taping the segment at WHYY was an utterly satisfying experience from start to finish. 
 (Once our head phones were on, Lou and Joanie worked out some nervous energy before taping began and broke into song.  Microphones are powerful teases.)   From his perch in New York City, John Hockenberry seamlessly posed questions and invited our impressions about the book for 30 minutes.  Half of that time will be used for the July 16th airing.  I hope you'll be listening!

To steal the sign-off from CBS Sunday Morning's Charles Osgood, we'll "see you on the radio."  Oh, and sleep tight!

Here is the link to our book club discussion on The Takeaway:  http://www.thetakeaway.org/story/takeaway-book-club-sleep-donation/

Here's the link to WNYC's The Takeway book club page: http://www.thetakeaway.org/bookclub/  Check out all the books for summer reading!   

The Signature of All Things

I am a barefaced Elizabeth Gilbert fan.

Her writing pleases me.  However, it is her articulate, endearing, and engaging manner that pulls me in close and keeps me interested.  She is an unvarnished connector.  When I recently explained to someone the basis for her appeal, I stated plainly, "I just really like her way."

She became wildly famous for her 2006 memoir, "Eat, Pray, Love."  That work was my introduction to this funny, searching, facile writer even though she had authored three novels and multiple magazine articles prior to EPL.  


Elizabeth Gilbert taking questions at St. Joseph's
College in Brooklyn, NY

Understandably, the non-fiction work provided a exhaustive dose of oversharing for some readers (followed by the film version starring Julia Roberts in August, 2010.) I nonetheless became an admirer as she unraveled her early adult life in humorous, metaphorical prose. 

Appropriately, her command of analogies was one of many questions tossed her way at a book signing event in Brooklyn this week. The author unblinkingly answered the query with a metaphor and then burst out laughing at her own unintended joke.  This undisguised manner placed us at her conversational table.  

For 90 minutes, Liz candidly answered questions from moderator/author Rebecca Mead of New Yorker Magazine as well as from the intimate audience.  She also read an excerpt from her latest novel, "The Signature of All Things," marking its paperback publication debut on that first night of a mini-book tour.  

When asked about a statement Liz has repeatedly made about how fiction writing reveals more about the author than non-fiction writing, her reply rustled with truth, and, of course, an analogy.  "Non-fiction writing is still very curated," she explained.  "There is nothing in "Eat, Pray, Love" that I didn't want revealed; it's like a crime scene with everything swabbed and wiped clean so you receive only what I want to send out."  In her current 19th century fiction, Liz said with hand motions, "my hair and fingerprints are all over it!"  

One question about story ideas triggered Liz to take a quick breath and lean into her thoughts. She queried, "we're all friends here, right?"  before launching into firmly rooted belief.  Liz sees ideas as things that float around all of us all the time, somewhat like the innumerable stars in space. Ideas present themselves and challenge us to take them on. 

 If we don't take them on, they move on to other possible takers, always making themselves available to a willing receptor.  If we accept and begin to formulate too many ideas, we are left with may starts and few finishes.  Her choice is to take on one or two ideas, deeply attend to them, and let all others float away. 

This "magical thinking" (her words) theory is one she is pursuing for a future novel, along with another story idea about Broadway showgirls from the 1940s.

The mostly female, multi-generational audience well represented the author's readership demographic.  My twenty-something year old daughter (and transplanted Brooklyn-ite) joined me at the event making for a rich conversation afterward.  I loved hearing what did and did not resonate over the ages, but most especially appreciated how it triggered thoughtful connection. 

The same was true last Fall when the author kicked off her novel's hardcover publication at the Philadelphia Library.  My friend Rosalie and I attended that event, appreciating Liz's candor, love of language, and dedication to research. 

She is also a generous Facebook and Twitter participant with posts/tweets that entertain and challenge readers.  My favorite, so far, is about her love of bawdy language and a well chosen expletive.

In the ever changing game of musical chairs at my fantasy dinner table of past/present guests, there's a place card with Liz Gilbert's name on it. 

Here is the link to the NYTimes review of "The Signature of All Things" in September, 2013.  http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/30/books/elizabeth-gilberts-novel-the-signature-of-all-things.html?module=Search&mabReward=relbias%3Ar%2C%5B%22RI%3A5%22%2C%22RI%3A17%22%5D

Greenlight Bookstore (http://greenlightbookstore.com/) partnered with St. Joseph's College (http://www.sjcny.edu/Giving/Press-Release/520) to bring in authors as part of the school's Brooklyn Voices series.

What's It Worth?

Looking at level upon level of shopping options last holiday weekend, I admit I was overwhelmed but impressed by the diversity. 
 
First there was the buzz noting which stores would be needling their way into the untouchable 24 Thanksgiving hours by opening for business that day. This tapped core beliefs of both shoppers and workers.  An unwritten moral line wriggled.  Facebook posts by folks boycotting the retail infringement appeared regularly during November. 
 
Invoking MC Hammer's famous refrain of "U Can't Touch This," the Thanksgiving purists let it be known their day was not up for sale.  I didn't post or demand my intentions be heard, but Thanksgiving remained an indoor home event (so much so that my Black Friday imperative became  "Get Outdoors Day" with a long walk at a local park with my daughters.)
 
Then the Shop Local Saturday followed, steering shoppers to buy gifts at local businesses.  I recall bragging in years past how most of my holiday shopping could be done by clicks on Amazon - oh the ease and savings just a touch away.  This year I am making the effort to find nearby answers to gift questions thanks to 'shop locally' reminders. 

 Cyber Monday exploded in my inbox with deals to stretch Black Friday further.  I'm not an economist, but how much does our consumerism benefit us in the long run?

What is it all worth?  What's the currency we're using to get the value we desire?  Are we trading some emotional currency for physical stuff?  What happens when worth and value clash?


The Bay Psalm Book, printed 1640.

The NYTimes recently reported on a record breaking Sotheby's auction of a 1640's religious item. The Bay Psalm Book sold for over $14 million, making it "the most expensive book ever sold at auction." 

The price tag, while steep, is just part of what makes this notable. The decision to sell the rare book addresses both worth and value.  And, as with all good stories, this one has intriguing points of view. 

Old South Church in Boston sold one of two books it owns. (It is believed that only 11 copies exist.)  Why sell it?  According to the Times article, "the congregation voted last year to sell one copy to pay for ministries and repairs to the church’s 1875 building." 

Senior Minister The Reverend Dr. Nancy S. Taylor noted following the book's sale, "We're not in the business of being a museum; we're not in the business of being a library...what is our business is mission in the city of Boston."  Selling the book has worth to the church and its community.

But it's value - an intangible to some - was great enough for the church historian and longtime member to resign in protest of the sale. While the congregation voted 9-1 in favor of putting a book up for auction, dissent came from those who valued history first.
Old South's pedigree places it as Ben Franklin's baptismal church and includes Samuel Adams and Richard Dawes (who rode with Paul Revere) as former congregation members.  This is not your average bear.

The intersection of worth and value marked the place where the book became either a type of commodity or a treasure.  In the language of education, History was trumped by Economics. In some ways those on opposing sides of the debate held true to their view of what the book primarily represents: to the historian, it is a precious piece of history which is church property; to the church leaders it is a means to an end of serving the community.   I land on the side of Economics because the church still owns another copy of the rare book.  If #2 ever comes up for auction, perhaps the debate over its worth will have even greater intensity. 

The book's new owner,  David M. Rubenstein plans lend the book to libraries around the country, eventually naming one to house it.   He has no interest in keeping the famed item at home. In biblical terms, there's no light left under a bushel here.   

While preciously rare books of psalms have no place on my holiday shopping list, the value of what I am giving this season is shaded by more thought about my intention.  Wrestling with worth and value makes me uncomfortable.  I think this is an invaluable thing.

Link to the NYTimes article on Sotheby's auction:  http://www.nytimes.com/2013/11/27/nyregion/book-published-in-1640-makes-record-sale-at-auction.html?_r=0

Anne Lamott

 

If Anne Lamott wasn't an author, I believe she'd be a comedienne - a very introverted, dry, one.

I appreciate her writing and her wit equally and was thrilled when my friend Heather, who introduced me to Anne's writing long ago, alerted me to the author's local visit last night.


Anne Lamott signing books and
chatting with guests.

Anne's broken, loving life has been a topic covered in many of her non-fiction books with her most recent effort titled "Help Thanks Wow." Her talk at the sold out Bryn Mawr Presbyterian Church quickly settled into the comfy chair of those three single word prayers.

"I love to write about what I come upon and I love to come upon spiritual stuff," she shared.  Books about truth, resurrection, healing - these fill her huge heart. 

The "Help" in the book title is probably the most common prayer.  Life tosses us all sorts of hot potatoes.  When the juggling gets dicey, we ask for help.  This prayer has many faces when I beg, cry, scream, demand or negotiate for it. It is the Wild West of prayers - anything goes.  Anne's experience in recovery has kept this prayer active for her.  "It's when you've made such a catastrophe of your life and have run out of options that you allow yourself to be helped," she noted.

"Gratitude is a habit," she said regarding the second prayer of the title.  "It's irresistible." The author joked about often being scattered in thought but on this point her clarity shimmered.  Gratitude is not just for the good times.

Author Anne Lamott

She writes in the book, "sometimes our mouths sag open with exhaustion, and our souls and minds do too with defeat and that saggy opening is what we needed all along.  Any opening leads to the chance of flow, which sometimes is the best we can hope for, and a minor miracle at that, open and fascinated, instead of tense and scared and shut down.  God, Thank you."

''Wow" is the prayer for everything else.  "You don't go outside and see a starry night and say 'eh,' Anne said with a tilt of her head. "You say wow!.'"  Recognizing those moments is the task.  "To us much is given, we just have to be open for business," she writes. 

Anne touched on aging, body image, recovery, her son Sam and her writing process - each infused with her well-honed humor.  "The grace of getting older is that you get you back," she stated. "No one notices your butt, no one cares. Get on with it." 

Anne converted to Christianity 27 years ago - she was drunk.  "I got sober 26 years ago - I call that 12 months in between my gap year," she wryly added.

A question about Advent and holidays prompted Anne to discuss her anxiety over the hype of the holidays and her conviction that we need to be lights to one another.  "Be a lighthouse," she suggested.  "Stay lit.  Lighthouses don't go running around the island looking for ships to save," she added  "They simply stay lit."  Light was a consistent theme during her talk.

In the hour before the event start time, Anne made her way all through the church signing books, talking, listening, connecting.  It was warm, easy, welcoming.  She is accessible without giving up her essential self. 

She closed her talk stating what seemed to be her strongest conviction, "You are loved and chosen exactly as you are, exactly as you are."

 

"You know how vulnerable we are.  It's not out there.  You're not going to find it , lease it or date it. 

Grace is knowing you can stop the mad scrambling after things."   Anne Lamott

Lingering

I'm nearing the end. The urge to pause overwhelms me, so I stop for a moment.  This is the place to linger.

I am 75 pages away from finishing Cheryl Strayed's novel Wild which chronicles her solo 1100 mile hike along the Pacific Crest Trail in 1995. She was 26. She has gently brought me along the trail and her life in such a way that I have been lulled into the journey forgetting, like all journeys, this too must end.

But not yet.

I am a lingerer.  In sorrow or joy, I find a strong pull to pause. It could be defined as a moment to be in the moment.  Ah, I wish I was that evolved.  I'm not.  I linger because I know what I'm dealing with versus the next moment where I don't.  In the case of Wild, I don't want it to end.

Often I linger not because I am appreciating the moment but because I fear what may or may not come next.  It isn't a terrific life skill.  It can be a pseudonym for avoiding. It's the old devil you know besting the devil you don't know. In that vein, I am a repeat lingerer.

Sometimes, just sometimes, lingering serves me well.

As the grandchild of Italian immigrants, I learned that lingering was the thing you did after each meal and before you left someone's home. It was second nature.  Doorways and dining room tables were the places we paused to stay gathered as a unit.  It's primitive - gathering around the hearth, campfire, or wherever early families ate. 

Several years ago I traveled to Sicily with my folks and niece to visit my dad's extended family and to see the house where his father was born and raised.  I expected to learn about living in Sicily.  I learned more about how similar my extended family and I are.  We resemble one another, we share the same hand motions and verbal intensity in conversation, and we are bossy, loud, and hospitable.  We marveled at our family tree whose branches crossed land and seas. 

My European relatives always take time to linger.  They raise after-meal time to high art. Italians drive their cars like demons ablaze, but they slam on the breaks when it comes to sitting at the table.  Conversation, espresso, fruit, pastry and anisetta keep everyone at the table in luscious lingering.

Passeggiata
 

Another form of this primordial pause is the passeggiata (pah-sah-JOT-tah) Every Sunday evening around dusk in many small Italian towns it is the time for passeggiata - a collective saunter through the streets. Families, couples, singles stroll down narrow streets closed off to cars greeting neighbors, meeting friends, sipping coffee, eating gelato, heading nowhere, being everywhere.

It is the ultimate "see and been seen" scene.

I recall watching this unfold from my cousin's Castelbuono balcony, drinking in the sweetness of it all.  As we strode through town everything emanated warmth, family, togetherness.

This need to linger extends beyond the home mealtime table.  The evening before we met our relatives, the four of us ate at a quiet seaside restaurant.  Business was slow and so were we.  After dessert, we asked for the check.  We not only insulted the waiter but most of the employees with our very American request.  After much arm waving and spitfire translating by my dad and niece, we were admonished to aspetta (wait). 

It was the first time I was yelled at because I was freeing up a table at a restaurant.  Once we agreed to stay, the self-satisfied smiles returned to the waitstaff and we lingered in the land of our ancestors.  It was a glorious hint at what was to come with our deliciously cordial relatives.

In her memoir, Cheryl Strayed sought out the solitude her trek offered. Yet, when she could spend time with fellow hikers at various stops along the trail, she lingered with fresh appreciation.  She cautiously welcomed time for togetherness. It offered an unexpected balance on her solo hike. I believe she embraced the Beatles' suggestion to "Let it be."

As I near the end of a really good read, I feel the familiar ache of losing something dear.  I hoard the moment.  It's like the end of a great vacation or an unexpected call from someone special.  Please don't end, please don't end - this is my prayer-like wish. 

Learning to let it be and accept the moment morphing into the next does not come easily.  But I am trying - trying to linger with less of a death grip and more of the gentle whisper of aspetta.  

Growing Up Patton

"I have seen war on land and sea.

I have seen blood running from the wounded. ...

I have seen the dead in the mud. I have seen cities destroyed. ...

I have seen children starving.

I have seen the agony of mothers and wives.

I hate war."  

Franklin Delano Roosevelt, 1936

This abbreviated quote by the 32nd US President, carved into the granite third 'room' of his Washington DC memorial, is also etched into my mind 12 years after first visiting the site.  It speaks to the pacifist in me.

Poster from the movie "Patton"

It is more than ironic, then, that the movie, Patton,  consistently appears in my personal top three favorite movies of all time. It goes against my 'type' in every way.  Contradictions abound. 

So, when I read that General George S. Patton's (1885-1945) grandson, Ben Patton, was visiting a local bookstore this month to promote and sign his book Growing Up Patton, I was all in. 

I walked into Chester County Book and Music Company expecting to hear some familial anecdotes about the author's famous grandfather.  Ben, author and filmmaker, provided so much more for the audience which was mostly comprised of war veterans and their spouses.

A sense of duty, respect for history, and a deep caring for the troops summarizes the entrenched military legacy of the Patton family.  It's embarrassing to note my ignorance regarding the famous WWII General having an equally infamous son, Major General George S. Patton IV (1923-2004) - a highly decorated Korean War and Vietnam War veteran and Ben's dad.  In fact, the family military history goes back to the Civil War in which Ben's great grandfather, George Smith Patton was a Confederate regimental commander in the Third Battle of Winchester in September of 1864.

Carrying forward this military pedigree could overwhelm even the most intact psyche, but Ben's self-effacing manner and love for his family, especially his dad, comes through within the first minutes of hearing him talk about their relationship.  "My father was the titan in my life," Ben noted. 

Ben's dad was also a persistent correspondent and evidenced by over 100 hours of audio tapes of communication shared between he and his wife and children.  "I learned the value of staying in touch from my father," Ben said, recalling the simple note his father even sent to Ben's newborn sister welcoming her into the world and asking her about being an infant. Personal notes and correspondence in the book provide its warm tone.  This spirit surprised me given the Patton military ancestry. It is clear that Ben's dad took his role as father as seriously as any military commission.  Having only seen his father twice during World War II, Ben's father knew he wanted things to be different for his children - and they were. 

Ben's father maintained a fierce loyalty toward his troops, putting himself in the front lines of war and noted that letting the enemy see him "gave them a target to shoot at." The commanding general believed, "A general should be seen by the enemy and set the example." He added, "Besides I have a certain disdain for the accuracy of their line of fire."   

From FDR Memorial, Washington DC

His dad's all pervasive feelings about strategy and duty were a 24/7 affair as evidenced in his final State of the Division speech given to officers and soldiers of the 2nd Armored Division in 1977: "We gotta think about fighting, we gotta think about attacking, we gotta think about pursuing and exploiting, we gotta think about it all the time."  The thought that followed is the one that is pure Patton, "Frankly I think about little else,  I cannot drive by a piece of ground-even when I'm on leave or pass or taking my wife to the movies - without thinking how I would attack it."

Professional soldiering is a Patton tradition that Ben met with his acceptance into the US Naval Academy.  On the cusp of starting his life there, Ben followed his father's vocational axiom to be authentic and decided to go in another direction.  Ben's authenticity eventually took him into documentary filmmaking and brings him into lives of soldiers in another way.  He films veterans telling their personal war stories in their own words.   "You are the only expert in your life," Ben noted .  "Hopefully this helps our veterans," he added, "I know it helps me reconnect with my father."

As he looked into the audience in attendance at the bookstore, Ben first thanked the veterans for their service. It summarized his feelings about military service, and was particularly appropriate as we approach Memorial Day.  "We must not be hesitant to thank our veterans - it is important to acknowledge them whenever we see them."

The Patton legacy of caring for the troops continues off the battlefield. 

Here is a terrific video in the Smithsonian archives of some Patton home movies, narrated by Ben.  http://www.smithsonianmag.com/multimedia/videos/Home-Movies-of-the-Patton-Family.html

Ben was interviewed on the 10!Show in Philly this month. Here is the video link: http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/video/#!/shows/10-show/Growing-Up-Patton/152330625

Bruno the Bookworm

Bruno

He's a gentle soul and an excellent listener.

He is also a show stopper who inadvertently takes control of whatever room he saunters into. I guess you could call him a Renaissance man except for one significant fact -  he is a dog.  Bruno, a Great Dane, uses his patience and presence to help humans manage some of life's hurdles.

As a certified therapy dog, eight and a half year old Bruno regularly visits local rehab centers, assisted living centers and elementary schools and makes a difference every time.

His latest foray into this generous life mission takes place at the Malvern Library twice weekly where he sits with youngsters transitioning from being those who are read to into those who read. I watched in wonder as 5 year old Sadie and 8 year old Stephen took turns earnestly reading to the 185 pound canine.  Bruno took his place in the library program room and received his youthful visitors with a mastered aplomb.

Siblings, Sadie and Daniel pat Bruno

Sadie arrived armed with a book she wrote and illustrated about colors and animals. The contrast between her petite frame and Bruno's elongated girth melted away as Sadie's little voice earnestly read page after page.  As she completed each one, Sadie turned it toward Bruno so he could have full view of her work.  She and her 20 month old brother Daniel patted Bruno and spoke to him as just another friend in the room.  It was a heart melting scene. 

Stephen reads to Bruno

Stephen, dressed in Scooby Doo pajamas and a sea blue shark robe, read "When Dinosaurs Came With Everything"to the ever patient Bruno. To say that animals ruled the room is an understatement.  The young reader joked right off the bat when he announced one of the book's authors was named David Small, telling Bruno, "That's funny because there is nothing small about dinosaurs!"  There also was nothing small about Stephen's enthusiasm, let alone the creature he was speaking to.  Stephen almost performed the book as he pored over dinosaur details.  The young reader also deliberately showed his canine companion each page after he read it, making sure Bruno did not miss one. 

When Bruno laid his head on the carpet, his human partner, Sam Schleman, gently explained to Stephen that, "Bruno is more of a listener than a looker." Stephen agreed and  steamed on, unwavering. As he reached the final pages, the youngster lifted his right hand and caressed Bruno's paw in a gesture that reassured both he and his new found friend.  

Sam is Bruno's constant companion and clearly savors his canine's work.  "He such a sweet dog with a great disposition," Sam noted.  "And he is great with children."  Bruno and Sam found each other after the dog's first owner had to move.  "He lived with a 3 year old child so had firsthand experience with youngsters," Sam explained. 

After Sam adopted Bruno and recognized his consistent gentility, he asked the former owner where the dog was trained.  To his surprise, Sam learned Bruno's demeanor was of his own making - he had never received any training.  "He has always simply been a sweet natured dog," he added.  Bruno became certified as a therapy dog through Therapy Dogs International's "Tail Wagging Tutors" program. Aside from the dog's good health, the association tests many benchmarks, including reactions to other dogs, children and various distractions along with meeting strangers.  Bruno breezed through the process.
http://www.tdi-dog.org/OurPrograms.aspx?Page=Children+Reading+to+Dogs

Bruno and Sam

Sam then began to contact places where his friend could be of service. One particularly poignant story Sam shared was upon a visit to Bryn Mawr Rehab.  A young man recently admitted with a brain/spinal injury had only the ability to open and shut his eyes.  Bruno walked into the room toward the window, looked outside and then turned toward the patient.  Without prompting, the Great Dane walked to the bed, rested his sizable head on the young man's chest. "The nurse moved the boy's hand on top of Bruno's head and just let it rest there,"Sam explained. "It was pretty  powerful." Months later, Sam and Bruno saw the same young man being pushed in a wheelchair by his mom, and the boy could pat the dog himself.  The connection was complete.

Sam contacted the Chester County Library to offer Bruno's services and Malvern Director, Rosalie Dietz, loved the idea.  She invited Sam and Bruno to stop by and immediately saw the perfect pairing for young readers who frequent the branch's popular storytime program.  Parents who are interested in having their children try out their reading skills on Bruno are encouraged to sign-up. http://www.ccls.org/cwo/Find_a_Library/Malvern

Sam is well versed in being the sidekick to a celebrity and marvels at Bruno's popularity. "He's like a rock star - everyone knows his name," Sam offers, still a bit surprised.  This stardom comes with the 21st century cache - a Facebook page. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Bruno/107283732633019  I've come to accept that 91 friends on my own Facebook page represents a miniscule amount (I choose to see it as my high level of friend selectivity.) However, this Great Dane wordlessly puts a sledgehammer to my human total with his impressive number of followers. 

Sam summarizes his four legged friend's impact in an understated way, "It's a lot better than sitting around."  It seems to me it is so much more from a dog who's big presence makes an even bigger impact in his little town.