Tell (Almost) All

My teacher!

The average person keeps 13 secrets, five of which they have never told anyone. Come up with three of your secrets to write about.

That was the first homework assignment in my personal essay class. Last July, I decided to actually get a little writing training. This decision was part and parcel of the annual Summer Betterment Program that I undertake at the shore. I return home accomplished, refreshed—and completely unable to replicate my regimen until the following summer.

Anyway, I figured an online course was my best option. I found a six week class on personal essays and so, one Tuesday at 5 PM, I logged on to the website. But when I attempted to join the class, no one was there! I soon discovered my miscalculation. The course was being taught from San Francisco, where their 5 PM is my 8 PM. My classes were going to run two hours, ending at 10 at night! For me, that might as well have been 1-3 AM, as I am almost always tucked into beddy bye long before 10 PM.

Somehow I managed to stay awake, and (virtually) met my instructor, Kalle, who teaches at Columbia, and my fellow students. The “secrets” assignment felt like a plunge off the high dive for me, but my classmates seemed to have no problem baring their souls. What are the safest, most innocuous secrets I keep? I wrote THOSE down (as a child, I used to pour orange juice on my cornflakes because of my milk allergy). I knew that was not exactly in the spirit of the class, so I tried to dig deeper, finally settling on my troubled relationship with my mom towards the end of her life.

New Tool for the Kit!

 By Class #3 we all had a draft of our stories written. We were each given about 8 minutes of class time weekly to discuss our pieces and get feedback. I enjoyed this part, and really liked the other writers’ work. The final weeks focused on selling our essays to major publications. We had to find the editors of our top five targets and be ready to submit our finished work. And so it was that I sent “My Bipolar, Mom’s Dementia, and How We Lost Each Other” to The New York Times (aim high, right?)

I’d love to report an immediate, enthusiastic response from The Times, but here it is November and nary a peep. So I have chalked that one off, and sent to my next target publication, Vox First Person. If that is also a “no” I have three other prospects, so I’m not too discouraged (yet). I realize that these outlets get hundreds and hundreds of submissions. I just hope my little essay will appeal to SOMEONE out there, and get published.

Was it worth it? Most definitely. I now have lots more tools in my writing kit, which I can and will use going forward. Would I ever take another online class?

Only in my time zone.

Land(line) Ho!

As all couples do, Steve and I have our occasional differences of opinion. Over predictable things, like the correct household temperature. 76 degrees for sleeping in the winter! Toasty, I say! Might as well just set fire to $100 bills, Mr. Frugal says. 68 degrees for A/C in the summer? Refreshing, I say! But we don’t need it on at all, he says, sweat dripping from every pore (going into Steve’s office on a sweltering day is like entering a Finnish sauna, which bothers him not a bit). 

Not too hot, not too cold. Just right? Never!

We also have differing ideas about the urgency of this or that home repair or yard maintenance project. I have been asking him to do something about the dingy family room walls for eons (what, were you going to suggest that I paint them? That’s hilarious!); hubby prefers to spend his precious non-working hours trimming the hedges, over and over and over again.

Lately, we’ve been going round and round about our telephone landline. Yup, we still have one. Nope, we never use it and rarely check our messages. Steve has explained to me why he wants to keep it going several times, but I haven’t been listening, so as far as I am concerned it’s a total waste. The robocalls now come in on our iPhones too, so we’re not escaping those in any event. And every now and again when we DO check voicemail, we hear an invite to some long-past soiree, or birthday greetings for the one who celebrated that milestone six months ago. If anyone is reading this and knows our landline number: don’t use it if you intend to actually communicate with us. I mean it.

Our landline. Don't call us on it!

We also—get this—still have an AOL account. I think they are finally free now, but for the longest time we paid. This I understood (sorta) because it (duetpros@aol.com) was the business email address, and Steve thought it’d take forever to make sure our contacts were updated. We are finally up and running (familystages@gmail.com, by the way, if you are interested in a terrific children’s theatre production. You aren’t? Carry on, then). This afternoon I was looking through my old emails to find a certain message when it struck me: it might be in my AOL mailbox instead! So in I signed. I currently have 75,000 unread messages, 99% junk I’m sure. After a desultory search, I decided I didn’t really need the message that much after all. But I digress.

41 years into this Voyage of Discovery called Marriage, we take these minor disputes in stride, and marvel at how little we actually fight. Our quirks seem to balance out (remember Rocky’s romantic assessment of his relationship with Adrian? “She got gaps. I got gaps. Together, we fill gaps.”) So on we sail, Steve and I, adjusting our thermostats up and down, making our peace with a few different priorities. Agreeing on the most important things, especially our love.

But I swear. Next Saturday, I’m hiding the hedge clippers.

Is it? Can it be? Rocky and Adrian!

Inna Sagrada Familia

All smiles in Barcelona!

Those who know me, know that I am a very impatient person when it comes to making things. If a craft project has more than two steps (one of them being, “read directions”), forget it! Gardening has always struck me as endless waiting for a merely possible result. Even with things I love to do, like cook, my favorite recipes are Rachael Ray’s 30 minute wonders. Now, contrarily, I refuse to go the fast food route. That is just cheating! I want to do the work (and reap the compliments), I just want that work to be finished lickety-split. 

But I have always been fascinated by huge projects that took years, even centuries, to complete. You know, The Pyramids. I-95. That sort of thing. Especially when the people who began the work die before it is done. I think about my load of unfinished business-- church odds and ends, partial essays--and cannot imagine anyone taking up the projects after I am gone to the great beyond. It will all land in the trash I am sure, and I certainly can’t blame my loved ones for pitching it. After all, it is “my thing” and not theirs.

Which is why I was so struck by Sagrada Familia, the Catholic cathedral-in-progress we visited in Barcelona. This architectural wonder was conceived in the late 19^th century to honor the Holy Family. It is a gorgeous blend of traditional and modern elements, from stained glass windows that are just blocks of light-catching colors, to the altar crucifix - which hangs from a huge chandelier, and incredibly detailed sculpted exterior. Architect Antoni Gaudi plotted everything out meticulously, and made copious drawings. These came in very handy when his colleagues and students took over in 1926, following Gaudi’s untimely death in a traffic accident. They embraced his vision as their own. Construction has continued (despite destructive fires set during the Spanish Civil War), and the church will not be completed until 2026. Indeed, the day we were there scaffolding could be seen in several places. Magnificent music from the organ rang out over done and undone alike. We fell in love with Sagrada Familia, exactly where it is right now. It is a living work of art, and if we never make it back to Barcelona, our not seeing the finished product will in no way detract from its profound effect on us.

So. Back in the USA, where entire developments of McMansions spring up within months. Beautifully made? Built to last? Who cares? We want it done yesterday! As for me, inspired by Gaudi’s gradual masterpiece, I will try to slow down and take my time on my next creative endeavor, be it an essay or a stew. I will learn to appreciate the value of each step, and take pride in the process. Life is so unpredictable, after all, that even a “rush job” may not ever get a chance to be finished. Therefore, what’s the big hurry? Answer: there really is none.

Just the ticket!