I agree--cooking together helps a lot. Jim and I have been married over 27 years, and cooking together has been one of our favorite things to do from the start. We both love to cook, we both love to eat, and we both love to feed our family, our friends and our students. As Italians say, food is love.
Today is the birthday of writer Jim Harrison who has been married more than 50 years. Here's an excerpt of his writing from The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor: "Marriage is survived just on the basis of ordinary etiquette, day in and day out. Also cooking together helps a lot. I've seen all these marriages that failed. Those people are always hollering at each other. That doesn't work. Do you remember the '70s, they had all these 'empowering' groups where you tell everybody everything? That doesn't work in a marriage either. That's stupid."
I agree--cooking together helps a lot. Jim and I have been married over 27 years, and cooking together has been one of our favorite things to do from the start. We both love to cook, we both love to eat, and we both love to feed our family, our friends and our students. As Italians say, food is love.
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Emily Dickinson is a poet I've come to appreciate more over time as I've matured as a writer and seen her work in its historical context. I enjoyed reading more about her life in today's Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor. She's a poet whose work I'd like to get to know better. In the past, part of me resisted being a Dickinson devotee just because it seemed to be the expected thing. Ah, my arrogance as a young writer. But with age, I have a greater need to honor and learn from poets who have gone before me, whose shoulders I stand on, to pay them homage. In that vein, I loved the poem in today's Writer's Almanac by Andrea Carlisle, "Emily Dickinson's To-Do List." I also love the Billy Collins poem "Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes" in his book Picnic, Lightning. I am sure one day I will write my own homage poem to Emily. In the meantime, here is one of my favorites of hers:
Hope Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune--without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me. One of my favorite quotes comes from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupery. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye," says the fox speaking to the little prince. Literature, poems, and stories remind me of this truth, to trust the heart to see rightly, the inner eye of the spirit discerning deeper than surface appearances. Such a simple secret. So hard at times for me to remember in a world where the eye is dazzled and distracted by much.
In my Franklin Planner, each day has an excerpt from the book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Steven Covey. Today's quote was from the chapter on Habit 7--Sharpen the Saw: "Writing is another powerful way to sharpen the mental saw. Keeping a journal of our thoughts, experiences, insights, and learnings promotes mental clarity, exactness, and context."
I've kept journals for many years, and I've definitely found this to be the case. I also love the other quote in my planner for today's date by Gertrude Stein: "Writing and reading is to me synonymous with existing." I write and read, therefore I am. Connie Wanek, who lives in Duluth, Minnesota, has been one of my favorite poets ever since I had the opportunity to hear her read at the Good Thunder Reading Series at Minnesota State University, Mankato while I was in grad school. Today I was pleased to see her poem, "Six Months after My Father's Death," had been selected as Poem of the Week on narrative.com. Connie has a new poetry collection, On Speaking Terms, published by Copper Canyon Press. Former U.S. Poet Laureate Ted Kooser writes, "Take my word for it -- this new book by Connie Wanek is outstanding, and some of the poems will stick with you for the rest of your life."
It's that point in the semester when the freshmen comp essays are stacked high, and I feel surrounded by a flood of papers. As I grade, the metaphor of a mountain seems fitting. The climbing can get steep, but some of the views are spectacular.
Who taught me to write? My parents, by reading to me so much as a child, by telling me stories, Sister Elizabeth Keough, my 6th grade teacher, who made writing fun, Chet Chilinski, my high school creative writing teacher who advised the literary magazine, The Talisman, where my first poems were published. On and on, all those teachers who patiently read my words, gave me feedback. I stand on their shoulders. I try to pass it on, "the chain letter of the soul," as Minnesota writer and a former colleague Bill Holm wrote. Here is an excerpt from yesterday's email of The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor: "Today is the birthday of poet Rainer Maria Rilke born in Prague (1875). He wrote a cycle of 10 long poems that he called The Duino Elegies, about the difference between angels and people, and the meaning of death, and his idea that human beings are put on earth in order to experience the beauty of ordinary things. "In the Ninth Elegy, Rilke wrote: "Maybe we're here only to say: house, / bridge, well, gate, jug, olive tree, window — / at most, pillar, tower ... but to say them, remember, / oh, to say them in a way that the things themselves / never dreamed of existing so intensely." This morning I made a crockpot stew--beef, carrots, leeks, potatoes, tomatoes, cumin, coriander, cinnamon, cayenne pepper. By 5:30 our home was filled with an extraordinary aroma. The beauty of ordinary things. How often I overlook this beauty. What a moment of grace when I have the eyes to see, the ears to hear, the full awareness to experience the beauty of ordinary things. Tonight my husband Jim and I went to "A Very Prairie Christmas," one of our favorite musical events of the year, a program presented by the Southwest Minnesota State University Music Program and the Southwest Minnesota Orchestra. Dr. John Ginocchio conducts the SMSU/Community Concert Band and SMSU Jazz Ensemble, Mary Kay DeMaris conducts Bella Voce, the women's choral group, Dr. Ryan Fox conducts the Men's Glee Club & SMSU Concert Choir, and Dr. Daniel Rieppel conducts the Southwest Minnesota Orchestra. Bravo to all of the conductors, singers and musicians for transporting the audience to a much warmer place on this frigid Minnesota night and for putting us in a holiday mood.
I've been trying to think of a good prompt for this month's meeting of my Wild Women Writing group, and it came to me at the concert. We all have favorite holiday songs, whether sacred or secular, that hold powerful memories and resonances for us. Maybe it was a song we sang solo at a Christmas concert or played on the piano at a recital. Maybe we played it flawlessly or botched it miserably. Maybe it was in a favorite movie, or maybe it was inspired by a movie. One of my favorite Christmas albums when we were raising our daughter was Christmas in the Stars, with all songs related to the movie Star Wars. My favorite was "What Do You Give a Wookie for Christmas if He Already Has a Comb?" So if you need a writing prompt, here it is. Write a poem, story or non-fiction memoir or essay related to a holiday song that has some emotional zing or tug for you. And here's a deadline--December 25--because I need deadlines myself. You have plenty of time for drafts and revisions. Consider giving your piece of writing to someone as a present. It may be their favorite gift. Light, powdery snow falling all day. The tall ornamental grasses in our front garden turned into feathery white plumes, elegant dancers.
Inside, I cooked a big pot of squash soup with lots of onion, garlic, ginger and cayenne pepper, served it with pine nuts and bacon bits, cheese and bread. I also roasted carrots and parsnips in olive oil. Warming, colorful, simple comfort food served on a cold, snowy-white day with our family and a friend gathered around the kitchen table. Oh, and buckeyes for dessert, that delicious combo of chocolate and peanut butter, a gift from Josh, a former creative writing student. Divine. The eye hungers for beauty found in nature. The tongue desires flavor, spice, not mere sustenance. And what about our other appetites? "In the presence of a good poem, we remember/discover the soul has an appetite, and that appetite is for emotional veracity and the unsayable," writes Stephen Dunn in the chapter titled "The Good and the Not So Good" in his book Walking Light. What poems come to mind for you when you read that quote? Today is the birthday of Ann Patchett. I know this because I receive The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor every day by email, and it lists writers' birthdays. Last summer I read Patchett's beautiful fourth novel Bel Canto, inspired by the hostage crises in Peru. I had heard her interviewed on public radio when the novel first came out in 2001, and I immediately added it to the top of "My List of Books to Read Before I Die." When a friend mailed me a copy last spring, I knew it was finally time. One of my favorite review quotes: "A provocative and enchanting look at the power art has to suspend real life and to create a better world, one in which the differences between people can be erased and the barriers to our best selves can be hurdled." -Detroit Free Press
I'll be giving Bel Canto as a gift this Christmas, and I plan to read more of Patchett's writing in the New Year. Today is also the birthday of my dear friend Sister Dolores Hodapp, a School Sister of Notre Dame, who loves good poetry and writing as much as I do. Sister Dolores supported me mightily when I returned to college mid-life to earn an MFA in Creative Writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato. All writers need the support of earth angels. Sister Dolores is one of mine. |
AuthorI love to play with words. To capture moments on the page. To explore the physical and spiritual geography of what I call "fly-over country." I write from imagination, observation and my own experience of wandering in fly-over country--the literal, physical spaces of my life on the Minnesota prairie and the inner territory of the soul. Archives
December 2019
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