My Reading LIst

This article is titled "A Slow Books Manifesto."  But it really could be my personal manifesto.  Here's an excerpt.

"In our leisure moments, whenever we have down time, we should turn to literature—to works that took some time to write and will take some time to read, but will also stay with us longer than anything else. They'll help us unwind better than any electronic device—and they'll pleasurably sharpen our minds and identities, too. 

To borrow a cadence from Michael Pollan: Read books. As often as you can. Mostly classics."

Of course, where did I read this article but on Zite, an app on my IPad,  when I should have been ensconced on a sofa rereading Dickens or George Eliot or Jane Austen or maybe reading Proust for the first time and feeling slightly ashamed that I've never made a serious effort to tackle it before.

Happy Birthday Max William Beck

Today is my brother's birthday.  He would be 62.  I wonder if his hair would have turned all grey by now,  if we would have developed a pot belly.  Would he still be playing tennis, following the Phillies, rooting for the Sixers?

Ever since I was little, I always marked his birthday because it was the countdown to mine in early May.  My mom made a big deal for our birthdays--hanging a sign in the dining room, cooking our favorite foods for dinner, baking a cake from scratch and letting the birthday girl or boy lick the bowl.

Well, I'm counting down now and it feels a lot different.  I turn 65 this year, impossible but true, and I am on my own.  l don't really mind being alone.  I've always been good at it.  What I miss most of all is the sharing.  Coming together at the end of the day, at the end of a vacation, at the end of a thought, a project, a new experience and talking about it with someone who wants to listen to you. . .at least most of the time.

Up in Jamaica

I went to Jamaica for five days to stay with Liz and Giul in the their tiny bungalow up in the hills.  The view from the veranda looks down over the farm lands of the Pedro Plains out to Treasure Beach and finally the sea.  We wake up early with the sun and sit on the veranda breathing in the fresh air, the smells of dirt and dog and weed.  Before the sun comes over the hill, the air is cool and shady at the house. We sit on the veranda eating breakfast and watching the sun move over Treasure Beach below us. Pella and Rocco and Biggins are romping around the lawn, digging holes in the red dirt, chasing birds, following Ev or Giul while they work on the property.  Every once in a while the dogs climb back up on the veranda for a drink of water, a quick nap and a cuddle.

I look out in every direction and see a million shades of green.The hills behind are covered with dense and dark green forests--travelers palms and cactus providing texture as well as color.  Along the lawn there are mango trees heavy with fruit waiting to ripen.  Out on the plains, I can see a patchwork of cultivated fields--scallion, thyme, peanuts, pumpkin, cucumber, tomato, lettuce.  It's not for nothing that the Pedro Plains is known as the breadbasket of Jamaica.  And then in the distance, there is the sea and the sky, a continuous backdrop of clear blue silk. 

Later in the morning we might drive down to Treasure Beach to swim or meet friends or even to play tennis on the Treasure Beach Sports Park, a new and wonderful additional to the community.  The drive down is an adventure.  The road is narrow and hilly and bumpy. It winds up and down and around fields, through tunnels of guinea grass and trees, past small open shops and ramshackle bars and half completed concrete houses.  There are goats everywhere--in the road, in the fields, wandering around the houses.

It is hot and dry when we get to Old Wharf beach where we like to swim even though it is not yet 10.  The water is perfect--clear and cool and calm. We sit on the beach to dry off and bake a little in the sun.  There are a few white clouds over the water but if we look back over the mountains we can see a jumble of clouds rolling and growing.  Perhaps we will get a shower in the late afternoon.

One day Liz and I take a hike down her road to visit Grandmother Pigeon, the mother of one the men who work on their property.  She says she's 85 but who knows.  She's a big woman with big hands and feet.  She wears a tattered black dress and her head is wrapped in an old scarf.  The yard is full of animals-- small stray dogs, roosters, goats and even a baby pig tied to a stake so he won't run away.  She speaks not a word of English, just patois, and I can hardly understand her. I just nod and smile as she and Liz carry on a conversation. 

Doonesbury

Not surprisingly, a bunch of newspapers have decided not to print today's Doonesbury strip which deals, also not surprisingly, with abortion. It's pretty good.

The Washington Post has an interview with Trudeau about this supposedly divisive strip:

 "I chose the topic of compulsory sonograms because it was in the news and because of its relevance to the broader battle over women's health currently being waged in several states. For some reason, the GOP has chosen 2012 to re-litigate reproductive freedom, an issue that was resolved decades ago. Why [Rick] Santorum, [Rush] Limbaugh et al. thought this would be a good time to declare war on half the electorate, I cannot say. But to ignore it would have been comedy malpractice..."

You can read the whole interview here.

Spring Forward

I love daylight savings time.  It's almost 6:30 but I can sit in my window seat in the kitchen and read in the sun. Or I can lay propped up on pillows on the futon under the window in my study and read or do puzzles without turning on a light.  Or I can loll on the sofa in my bathroom/boudoir and just daydream while the sun pours in and warms the space.

I do not take any of this for granted. 

I am a Slut and Now I'm Angry Too.

I just got back from hearing journalist Irin Carmon speak at a Women's Medical Fund event.  Her talk was enraging and inspirational at the same time.  This article in Salon pretty much recaps her presentation.  It's amazing that she can still be upbeat in the face of the blatant and widespread misogyny she reports on daily.

"The Rush Limbaughs of the world don’t get to define the boundaries of appropriate sexual or moral behavior. But something is happening: Women are defining those boundaries for themselves, with many men alongside them, and they’re being reminded that there’s a concerted movement to take that right of self-definition away. And we’re mad."

 Anger is good but action is better. 

I am a Slut!

I really like this article in today's edition of Slate. 

The View from my Window

Not every beautiful sunset is from some exotic locale.  I took this photo from the window seat in my kitchen in Philadelphia.  It's one of my favorite places to sit and read or just look at the sky. 

High Heels

I put on a pair of high heels last night.  A pair of of vintage Ferragamo T straps that were easily over 30 years old, definitely predating motherhood. It seemed like a proper occasion--a fundraiser in New York for Seeds of Peace, our neighbor in Maine.  I wasn't planning to do too much walking--taxi to the train, transfer to the subway, short one block walk to the event--so I thought why not.  They still fit and they do make my legs look good.  By the end of the evening, I was desperate to sit down.  I walked slowly and carefully back to the subway, onto the to train station, out to a taxi and home.  Those shoes were off the minute I hit the elevator. Those shoes are now resting comfortably on a top shelf in my closet.  Who knows when they will see the light of day again.

I AM READY!

  I love my horoscope for the day:

If you've been holding yourself back in any way, Taurus, now's the time to unlock and unleash yourself. If you have been compromising your high standards or selling yourself short, I hope you will give yourself permission to grow bigger and stronger and brighter. If you've been hiding your beauty or hedging your bets or rationing your access to the mother lode, you have officially arrived at the perfect moment to stop that nonsense.

Whether it's your time to ferment in the shadows or sing in the sun, fresh power to transform yourself is on the way. Life always delivers the creative energy you need to change into the new thing you must become.