Touching the Past

My father, Jim, is the family historian. As the proud owner of a flip phone so old the numbers are wearing off the buttons, he is not one to be on the ragged, bloody edge of technology. And yet, when he sits down at his laptop and opens up Ancestry.com, he can navigate the hidden currents of time with amazing ease. It just goes to show, if you have an interest in something, you will make the effort to learn ways to explore it. Now, if I could only convince him have an interest in getting a smart phone.....

Last summer, Dad mentioned he had located and visited an ancestral burial plot about an hour north of Raleigh. He said the plot was on private property and was a bit neglected and overgrown. He asked if I could help him clean it up and of course I said yes. And that was that. In the coming months, he would mention it again and my response was always "Sure, just let me know in advance when you want to do it." 

Well two weeks ago, I got the call. Dad got permission from the landowner, Mr. Higgs, and I updated my calendar to block out the time on February 1 for a grave cleaning day. When the morning arrived, we had a quick country style breakfast at Big Ed's then headed north. We were fortunate that the weather was perfect for strenuous work and I was eager to get started.

Of course, my romantic notion of an ancestral burial plot is a hilltop plot, surrounded by old stone work and Gothic wrought iron fencing with perhaps a few crows sitting on the gate. Obviously my romantic notions are more informed by old movies that real life. In my imagination, I thought we would spend the day digging out some weed trees, mowing the grass, raking some leaves, and having a lovely day in the sun. What I did not expect was a few barely marked graves in the woods next to a field. Only two of the graves were clearly marked. Others had a rock as a headstone and another rock marking the foot of the grave. Several others were completely unmarked and were identifiable only as rectangular depressions in the ground.

My first view of the burial plot

Over the years the forest has taken over the plot. Trees have grown between and around the graves. A large tree, having been blown over many years ago, now has its roots upthrust in the entrance while its trunk molders across the plot. Our work was cut out for us.

With grubbing hoes, pruning sheers, a chain saw, wheel barrow, and rakes we went to work. The landowner, Mr. Higgs, joined our efforts for a few hours. By the end of the day, we had removed the dead tree and it roots, cut down and removed five other trees, raked the entire area, mapped the graves, and paid our respects.

My Dad, Jim, and Mr Higgs working to remove the fallen tree.

 

Glenda Bell Smith Hunt

Within the plot, we found 18 grave sites we could clearly see. The most prominent site was for Glenda Bell Smith Hunt, my Great Grandmother, who in her short life had 10 children, one of which is buried next to her. In the same plot, in unmarked graves are my Great Great Grandparents, approximately five other child graves, and eight graves marked only with field stones. I asked my Dad why Bell's grave was so prominently marked while the others were nearly invisible. He told me that many years after her death, my Grandfather and his brothers all chipped in to buy a marker for her grave. My dad hopes to one day also add a marker to the site as a memorial for all of those buried there.

Once we raked the area, we could clearly see the stones marking the location of grave sites

It was a tough day out in the woods for this city boy. But, in addition to the lifting, dragging, digging, and raking, my Dad shared stories told to him by my Grandfather. He also told me some of the history he has discovered about the area. These are the things I will remember. As a story teller, I get lost in all the dates and names. For me, it is the stories and events that I remember. Now I feel I have just a bit more of a connection to my history. So next time Dad starts a conversation with, "I found some information about your Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, (pause) Great Grandfather...." I will at least be able to connect this day with two of those Greats.

The result of our efforts

Thanks to Mr Higgs for allowing us onto his property and for his assistance. And a big thanks to my Dad for dragging me out into the wilderness to touch a part of our family history. It is a day I will always remember.    

Selfie in the woods

From the Lists: #24 Winesburg, Ohio

Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio (1919) is often referred to as the first modernist novel. More a short story cycle that a novel, the narrative  breaks free from the standard narrative form of protagonists and antagonists in linear narratives. Rather it is composed of short vignettes focusing on the lives people living in and around a small Midwestern town. The thread that holds the cycle together is young George Willard who works for the local newspaper. Since his job is to talk to the citizens of Winesburg, he becomes the holder of their secrets - both past and present.

While there have been hundreds, if not thousands of books about small town anywhere, what makes this books so memorable is that it bucks the romantic notion that small town life is a Mayberry-esque utopia. Instead, the residents of Winesburg have secrets and personal demons. Sherwood's small town is a place of extreme isolation where the smallest deviation from the norm is exaggerated until it comes to define you.  

Sherwood Anderson

Each story in Winesburg, Ohio focuses on a single resident, their history, and their current circumstances. Most of the stories begin with hopes of youth that are soon replaced with the disappointments of adult life. Whether it is the farmer who seeks divine intervention, the hotel keeper's daughter, the lustful minister, the banker's wife, the lonely music teacher, the soft spoken hermit, or our hero George Willard, the truths on which they base their lives eventually prove to be their downfall. As Sherwood states in the opening chapter: "It was the truths that made the people grotesques. The old man had quite an elaborate theory concerning the matter. It was his notion that the moment one of the people took one of the truths to himself, called it his truth, and tried to live his life by it, he became a grotesque and the truth he embraced became a falsehood."

"... Down the middle of the street? Naked?

As if it were not enough that their disappointment in discovering their heartfelt beliefs about themselves were false, add the judging eyes of their neighbors. Whether actual or paranoid delusion, it is the judgement of their peers that acts to amplify the characters' shame and isolation. Imagine Clara and Aunt Bee sitting together over a piece of pie, gossiping about peeping tom ministers, accused pedophiles, pregnant teens, depressed housewives, or young adults dying to leave for the big city? 

People talk of cities as being places that grind you down, where people are dishonest and crime is rampant, But, in the city it is easier to put aside our failures, dust ourselves off, and move on with our lives. Our odd behaviors are not as noticeable in a large crowd. Sheer numbers almost guarantee that no matter how different we are, we will find someone with the same thoughts or beliefs. The city, after all affords us a bit of anonymity. Unlike Winesburg, Ohio, where everyone knows our shame and there are no second chances.

Recommendation
Although my personal experience of growing up in a small town "may" have colored my opinions about the book, it was reminiscent of Spoon River Anthology (1915). The stories are short and the writing is tight, however it does read a bit like an adult bedtime story. The language reminds me of parables or fables where the lesson is always "Do not be too rigid in your thoughts about your life and how it will turn out. It will always be different that imagined. And, whether it is a success of a failure,  others will define you as they wish, regardless of how much effort you make to define yourself." Not a particularly uplifting thought.

Next up: #23 The USA Trilogy by John Dos Passos

From the Lists: #26 The Wings of the Dove

My love / hate relationship with Henry James culminates in The Wings of the Dove (1902). A story about Kate, a beautiful, but down-and-out social climber, who pimps her fiance, Merton, to Milly, a rich, terminally ill, American orphan, in the hope that he will inherit her fortune upon her death.  (How's that for Jamesian sentence structure?)

Like James' other novels, there are really no good girls or boys in this story of having and wanting. Even the idealistic love between Kate and Merton, a journalist, is eventually corrupted by the societal machinations of Kate's Aunt Maud and Milly's traveling companion Mrs. Stringham - who, coincidentally, were school mates back in the day.

While Kate is willing to throw off Aunt Maud's "sponsorship" to be with Merton, she is also keenly aware of her struggling father and sister who look to her marriage prospects as benefit to themselves:  "...[T]he more one gave oneself the less of one was left. There were always people to snatch at one, and it would never occur to them that they were eating one up. They did that without tasting."(p. 23) Of course it's easy for Kate to disdain the grasping of others when later justifying her own grasping, manipulating, lying, and betrayal as serving your "higher" purposes.

It appears that a fabulously wealthy, orphaned, American heiress with only a few months to live, really brings out the local London aristocracy. Upon her arrival, balls, dances, dinners are suddenly arranged. The Spring season is extended and the Summer exodus from London is postponed, all for a chance to meet and woo this heiress. What's most interesting for the reader, is that James gives you no clues as to who is in on the plot, who are pawns, and who are the victims.

In many ways, while reading this novel, I was reminded of Downton Abbey - particularly Cora's marriage to Lord Grantham, which included a dowry large enough to save the estate. In Milly's case, the lucky man would only need be married a few months at most, and a fortune would be at his command. Not a bad deal for a slightly tarnished estate or unlanded title holder. Yet, with all these suitors, Milly only has eyes for a poor, secretly engaged, journalist, who coincidentally is our male romantic lead, Merton.

In the end, this is a morality tale about love and greed, innocence and guilt, faith and compromise, which makes it all the more sad. The novel's first act is filled with love, innocence and faith as evidenced by the vows Kate and Merton exchange to conclude the first act, "I pledge myself to you forever." Merton exultant replies, "And I pledge you - I call God to witness! - every spark of my faith; I give you every drop of my life." Sadly, because this is literature, the lesson is not going to be eternal joy and bliss. Instead, the tale will end with a harvest of fruits planted, tilled, and fertilized with greed, compromise, and guilt.

Thinking about Henry James

In reading The Golden Bowl (#32), The Ambassadors (#27), and now The Wings of the Dove, I found myself settling into the parlors and receiving rooms of upper middle class London at the turn of the century. There is a bit of a scandalous undercurrent to all of these stories, there are unreliable narrators, internal dialogs, as well as character types and places his readers would have known or heard about. I think that being a part of and/or understanding this segment of society provided James with some shortcuts that the present day reader is lacking. Once I fell into the habit of reading between the lines and not fully trusting James' narrators, I think I took on more of the persona of his original audience. After all, why write something down when your reader's imagination will add the perfect amount of scandal and spice for the book to provide a rush of titillation in addition to the pleasure of moral superiority?

Next up: #24 Winesburg Ohio

Goodbye 2013 - Hello 2014!

I realized as I was pulling myself together for this entry that last year, I completely failed to post a list of 2013 resolutions. The bright side of that oversight is that I don't have to hang my head in shame for not accomplishing everything on the 2013 list of resolutions. But, it also means I have nothing to pin to my aspirational accomplishments board.

In 2012 there was some pressure to deliver once those resolutions were posted, but many good things came out that list. 

Looking back, 2013 was a year of continued efforts, transitions, and separations.

• I have continued my studies at the Kadampa Center. Not only have I continued the Discovering Buddhism classes, but I became a supporting member of the Center in October and took my lay vows in December, which allowed me to officially update my Facebook Beliefs field to Buddhist. 
• I continued my push through the 100 Best English Novels of the 20th Century - only 15 more to go. 
• I resisted a very strong desire to leave my current job in search of another once my best work buddy Arjay got his dream job at another company. Ten months later, I am so happy I resisted the temptation of possibly greener pastures. I now see a definite future for myself at Lulu that I hope will see me through many happy years of employment.
• I ended my relationship with Carl. Although for me it was the right thing to do, I regret my lack of compassion in how it was executed. It was callous, cowardly and needlessly hurtful to him. 
• I came to the realization that a 50 year old body has its limitations after injuring my foot during a pleasant afternoon run, which was immediately followed by a back injury just prior to the holidays.

Now that we are nearly two weeks into 2014, it's time to publicly declare my resolutions for the coming year.

With you as my witness, I resolve:

• Meatless Mondays shall continue (as will a slow expansion of meatless meals throughout the week).
• From this day forward, there shall be no television viewed in the home on Sunday before 7:00 PM. (This is a compromise resolution. Initially there was serious thought that there would be no television at home, but unlike my dear friend John M., I am unable to relinquish my last connection to pop culture.)
• There shall be at least one blog post per week for 2014, including a midyear update to this list.
• Yoga shall be added to the fitness regime.
• There shall be at least two dinner parties planned and executed in my home as a way to show my appreciation for the family and friends who graciously feed me throughout the year.
• There shall be a new volunteer opportunity identified to which I can offer my talents. 
• There shall be a plot summary and character sketches written for a novel I have been considering for some time now.
• There shall be less than five books remaining to read on the list of 100 Best English Novels of the 20th Century (Stretch goal is to complete the list by the end of the year).
• A visit to the Asian branch of the family for late 2014 or early 2015 shall be planned. (Stretch goal: Trip to include cycling trip from Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) to Cambodia. I may be looking for a traveling companion on this trip, but I can offer you a free place to stay in Singapore!)
• There shall be a colonoscopy (Lemmie Winks shall be rescued).
• There shall be a legal document composed for the disposition of my worldly goods upon my death.

Most importantly, I hope to create the causes for happiness in 2014. That means I must resist the gravitational pull of the sofa and my favorite reading chair. While my home is the place I feel most content, it can also be a barrier to experiencing the adventures of life.

To my friends, I hope you have a joyful year, absent of regrets and filled with people who make you laugh.

Happy 2014

A Christmas Wish for 2013

When I look back at the Christmas holidays throughout my life - I see a progression from childhood excitement, to teenage apathy, to young adult enthusiasm, to my current midlife contentment. I did not grow up in a particularly religious home. As such, as a child, Christmas was a secular, American celebration complete with trees, decorations, cooking, baking, and an abundance of gifts from Santa.

In my post-Santa adulthood, the holidays have come to be a time to reconnect with family I see only occasionally. And, more recently the holidays have become a time to share food and drink with dear friends, a time to reach out to friends in far away places, and a time to remember those no longer among us who made the holidays memorable with their smiles and their love. And, I have to admit, even today as I cling to the last days of my 50th year, when I drive by a home that brightens the night with twinkling lights and decorations, both tacky and tasteful, I flash back to that excited Christmas morning feeling of eager anticipation. There is something special about this time of year, even for those of us who have chosen different paths.

So, no matter how you choose to celebrate, whether with the family into which you were born or the family you have created for yourself along the way, I wish you and yours a very merry Christmas, a wonderful Winter Solstice, a satiating Saturnalia, a fun-filled Festivus, a Kwanzaa full of love, Happy Holidays, and a prosperous New Year.

Regardless of your tradition, make it memorable because in the end, our memories are all we get to take with us.

Peace and Love
Glenn

From the Lists: #27 The Ambassadors

Bon vivant - aka gay expat

After reading Henry James' The Golden Bowl, I was not eager to spend the next several weeks delving into the "vulgar and perverse" lives of the early 20th century English aristocracy; long tracts of thoughts, page after page of internal turmoils, everyone wondering what someone else is thinking, but too polite to ask. Even our omniscient narrator seemed confused by his character's motives.

Perhaps my long hours of reading and re-reading paragraphs chocked full of subordinate clauses, so full in fact that I would often forget which character initiated the dialog at the beginning of the paragraph. Regardless, I was better prepared for #27, The Ambassadors (1903), that, or this book was actually a lot better than The Golden Bowl.

The book opens with our rather nervous hero, Strether arriving in England on a mission to rescue Chad, the wayward son of his wealthy, New England fiancee, from the clutches of a wicked European woman of questionable morals. While Strether makes a small effort to remain true to his straitlaced Puritan heritage, he is determined to complete his task of saving Chad and returning him to Massachusettes to take over the family business. From the start, there is some urgency in completing this task as well as an indication that Strether's future (and fortune) depends on the success of his mission. 

As with all good stories there are obstacles along the way that make Strether reconsider his mission - among them are the pleasures of the Parisian Spring, the city's life, food, music, theater, as well as the delightfully cultured denizens of its art world with whom Chad is ensconced. Streather immerses himself in Chad's world and in so doing. Strether begins enjoying himself, develops a bit of a crush on Chad's "girlfriend," and begins maneuvering to extend his stay in Paris by discouraging Chad from returning to the bosom of his family.

Strether, seduced by Paris and its inhabitants, and possibly a tad bit in love, comes to the realization that his practical life has not been a life of happiness. He explains to a young acquaintance:

It's too late. And it's as if the train had fairly waited at the station for me without my having had the gumption to know it was there. Now I hear its faint receding whistle miles and miles down the line. What one loses one loses; make no mistake about that.... Still, one has the illusion of freedom; therefore don't be, like me, without the memory of that illusion. I was either, at the right time, too stupid or too intelligent to have it; I don't quite know which. Of course at present I'm a case of reaction against the mistake; and the voice of reaction should, no doubt, always be taken with an allowance. But that doesn't affect the point that the right time is now yours. The right time is any time that one is still so lucky as to have. You've plenty; that's the great thing; you're, as I say, damn you, so happily and hatefully young. Don't at any rate miss things out of stupidity.... Do what you like so long as you don't make my mistake. For it was a mistake. Live! 

Of course the remainder of the narrative rests on whether Strether will take his own advice and pursue his own happiness or return to New England. Will he do as his fiancee wishes or will he return home, empty handed, knowing he made the right decision? The book's ends before there is a resolution, so scholarly debate continues as to Strether's choice. 

Middle Age Reminiscence

As I live through my middle years, I sometimes think about missed opportunities for happiness and the choices I sometimes made with my head instead of my heart. Like Strether, I may have come late to the banquet, but I am determined to enjoy all that life offers. I just have to make sure I get to the train station on time. Live! 

An Incrementalist Makes an Incremental Effort

At times, my more socially-conscious friends have thrown up their hands in despair when we are discussing issues they most care about, such as environmentalism, animal rights, same sex marriage, tax policy, gun laws, etc. For the most part, I lean in the direction of being for all of these things. 

• I love the environment and all those creatures who depend on it being safe and clean.
• Animals raised to be our food should be treated respectfully.
• People should marry the person they love and want to share their things with.
• Taxes are good because they pay for things we like.
• There should be reasonable gun laws that allow reasonable people to own them - we all know someone we wouldn't want to handle our guns while we are in the room with them.

While I have family, friends, and acquaintances on all sides of these hot-button issues, I believe that some progress is better than being too afraid to take the first step. After all, moving forward is way better than moving backwards. Because of this attitude, one of my best friends recently labeled me an "incrementalist." I don't believe they meant it unkindly because in many ways it is true.

I only bring this up, because I recently decided to participate in the Meatless Monday movement. I can remember no specific determining factor that precipitated this decision. I think it was more a perfect storm of conversations and information including:

• A podcast featuring PETA VP Dan Matthews (informative without all the propaganda)
• A Time Magazine Article pointing out that from an evolutionary perspective, people really only need meat around 3 times a week. 
• A quote from the Dalai Lama which suddenly had new meaning: "If you can, help others; if you cannot do that, at least do not harm them."

So, I did a little research. To make this even more about me, I was particularly interested in how many animals I would personally be responsible for not eating if I chose to be vegetarian one day a week. My best friend, Google, informed me that I would save 35 pounds of animals per year - Equivalent to an average 4 year old human in the United States. 

While that is impressive, I also learned that being vegetarian one day each week would also:

• Save 84,000 gallons of water - who knew it takes 2400 gallons of water to make a pound of beef?
• Save 247 pounds of grain - did you know if takes 7 pounds of grain to produce 1 pound of beef? And nearly the same amount for pork and chicken.
• Save 15.5 gallons of gasoline.
• Reduce the world-wide supply of manure by 400 pounds. That is quite an impressive figure.
• Reduce my carbon footprint through less gasoline usage and smaller manure piles.
• Make a tiny, tiny dent in the 10 billion land animals slaughtered for food in the US each year. 
• Improve my health by eating a few more fruits and veggies.

Not bad for a one-day-a-week effort. Imagine the difference we could all make by just taking this small step together. I imagine my dear friend Clodagh's head is about to explode considering her 20-year effort to persuade me that meat is immoral. Well, these are my baby steps, my incremental effort to make the world just a little better - one day at a time.

Just down the street from my office

Full disclosure: Today, I completed my second meatless Monday. On both Tuesdays, I broke my "meat fast" with a few Snoopy's Hot Dogs. Sadly, I love to eat at the bottom of the meat quality chart. 

To read more about the above stats, go to: Go Vegetarian One Day a Week

If you can, help others; if you cannot do that, at least do not harm them.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/d/dalailama384423.html#8ELbP2gsax1p1BqJ.99

If you can, help others; if you cannot do that, at least do not harm them.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/d/dalailama384423.html#8ELbP2gsax1p1BqJ.99