Indian Summer

"I think it pisses God off when you walk by the color purple in a field and don't notice it."  Alice Walker "The Color Purple" 


One of the greatest joys of living in New England is the change of seasons. I look forward to the magic that each new time of year brings. In part, I think this isn't so much of a case of disliking the current time as it is an eagerness for what comes next. It's great fun to pull out my sweaters every Fall...just as it's a great relief to put them away every summer.


My father, a lifelong Northeast resident, enjoyed our move to California...up to a point. The first few years, I think he managed to "suffer through" being a Santa Barbara resident. However, the bloom was off the Banksia rose (and the orange blossoms, hyacinth and nasturtium), when he bought (and wore) a t-shirt that said "Just another sh%*^y day in Paradise". Other people might have found that statement to be witty and ironic. Dad was dead serious. He missed the snow. He daydreamed about Autumn leaves, Nor'easters and waking up to the crunch of first frost on the lawn.


This year, however, I'm soaking up every bit of the glorious Indian Summer weather. I'm basking in the glow of hazy, breezy afternoon sun. I'm finding incredible peace in just celebrating October temperatures in the 70's. Why? There is just so much unknown on the horizon. In less than one week I'll be in Arizona, consulting with a new neurological specialist. I've run through my meager medical options here and must head to a center that can offer me help, answers and a plan of action. So, I find myself with a lack of enthusiasm for the changing seasons this year. I still love Fall. But I just want to hang onto the present, pleasant days I'm having now.


As exciting as it is to take out that box of warm clothes, I realize how much time I've wasted looking too far ahead. For now, I'm content to just remain utterly thankful for Indian Summer. It's as if I've been given a reminder to stop and notice "the color purple"...especially if that color comes with a glass of iced tea next to the hammock.

A book by any other name is still as sweet

These are not books, lumps of lifeless paper, but minds alive on the shelves.  From each of them goes out its own voice... and just as the touch of a button on our set will fill the room with music, so by taking down one of these volumes and opening it, one can call into range the voice of a man far distant in time and space, and hear him speaking to us, mind to mind, heart to heart.  ~Gilbert Highet


It should come as no surprise that I'm a book lover, a true Bibliophile. From the first moment I wake up, until my eyes grow unbearably heavy in my head, I am reading. Books, both reviews and in metaphor, have been a large part of this blog, not to mention, my life. I can't remember ever not reading. My mother loves to tell the story of my seething, incensed Kindergarten teacher who told Mom, after my first bewildering day at school, "She knows how to read!", believing that I should be unable to do so, by virtue of my age. To quote Curtis Sittenfeld's wonderful fictional account of the former first lady, Laura Bush's passion for books, "Above all else, I was a reader." I'm sure those who know would feel this is a fitting epithet for me too.


Although I graduated from both high school and college, and was well on the path to an M. Ed., I still maintain that my greatest education has come from reading. I consider myself to be an autodidact. I learned far more about physics from reading "Einstein's Dreams" than I did in class. My passionate love of history was animated far more from essays and fictional accounts than from dry lectures aimed at entrapping fellow students on exams, rather than imparting knowledge. I never knew I could be enamored of geography, philosophy or chemistry, until I began perusing them on my own. I've discovered a world of fascinating subjects simply by turning the pages of a book on a subject about which I knew very little. For me, reading has been a way to shine the light on a world of possibilities...ones I never deemed accessible.


In my blog piece, a couple of years ago, I daydreamed about what heaven would be like for me. I envisioned an English library, with ever changing views to suit my mood. In my interpretation of heaven, every book I've ever wanted to read would be available at my fingertips. I have since gone on to think about my long desire for one of those fabulous library ladders on casters, a la Harry Potter in Olivander's wand shop. I truly stand by this interpretation of my own desire in "The World to Come"...I can't fathom eternity unable to read. 


To Kindle or not to Kindle was a piece I wrote not long after my meditations on heaven. Having borrowed a Kindle from my library, preloaded with a few titles that the staff had picked (two of which I'd already read), I can't say I was impressed. I simply didn't 'get' the big deal of a Kindle. I missed the tactile sensation of page turning. I missed using a bookmark. Silly though it may sound, the ability to watch my reading progress by the advancing movement of my bookmark, gave me a profound sense of satisfaction. I knew I'd miss wandering aimlessly around bookshelves, my hand alighting on a tome that no one had picked up in a long time...feeling as much a discoverer as Christopher Columbus, and realizing I'd come upon a land of treasure.


This opinion of the Kindle recently changed. During my confinement (which I define as an inability to get to the library), my girlfriends banded together and bought me a Kindle and an Amazon gift card with which to purchase e-books. I was in so much pain, and feeling so trapped in my own home, that something I had once 'poo-poo'ed' became a delightfully transporting mechanism. Since simply getting up and walking down the hall was a challenge, I knew that my meanderings around the library or a bookstore would be months off. The closest I could muster would be meandering around the Amazon website, picturing the concept of virtual shelves in my imagination. As tactile as I am, it was a bit of a challenge for me initially. But I came to realize that I could 'pick up' a book by reading sample chapters and I could chose to put that book back down, or to order it on my Kindle. And thus, a new love affair began.


I adore my Kindle now. I bring it everywhere. I can finally travel without having my entire carry-on bag be crammed with half a dozen hardcovers. I can slip it into my purse and sneak a chapter in while waiting in doctors' offices, during boring meetings and ever-so-carefully in the bathtub. I treasure how tiny a space it takes up and how giant a world it opens up for me when I'm reading. I am completely and totally a convert, with all the zeal and enthusiasm of one who has just found a new religion. I now espouse that books, in any form, are still books. I preach the saving of trees to all who will listen. I share the wonder of any book available at any hour of the day or not. I have shown an elderly friend, who is losing her sight, how large the print can be made to suit her. I have helped my mother, who is my soulmate in reading, how to use her new Kindle, and have successfully transformed her into adoring it too. It's become a way of life for me, in just the few months that I've had it.


Given my new creed on the use of an e-reader, has my vision of Heaven changed? Do I now picture something entirely different? No. My imagination, my comfort place and my illusion of where I daydream about is still my wonderful library. I picture Mahogany shelves from floor to ceiling. I can just make out the unbelievably comfortable chair, the side table holding my tea and the beloved wheeled ladder. I can smell the slight mustiness coming from the tomes. But in my eager hands, there is just as much likelihood of seeing a conceptualized Kindle, as there is a leather bound volume. 


As far as my previous opinion, mea culpa. 

Best Friends

"Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only a true friend will leave footprints on your heart."

Not long ago, I was volunteering at our beautiful library in town, when two older women walked in. They were bundled up against the Maine December winds and had all the usual tourist paraphernalia: cameras, umbrellas, that extra layer of sweatshirt that has "Maine"embroidered on it, purchases from the knick-knack stores and maps of our historic, but small, downtown area. Yet, these women had a different kind of twinkle in their eye. When at the library, I'm accustomed to answering questions about our elegant park, the best places to eat and the area attractions. I can suggest museums, that are a short drive away, the best shopping and out of the way spots that are the exceptionally picturesque. What was unusual about these ladies was that they asked none of these queries. They smiled, they walked around the airy, light-filled space and when they did come up to me, they simply beamed and asked if I would take their picture. I was more than pleased to oblige. As I was positioning them just outside, with Camden harbor in the background, they told me that they had been best friends since they were six years old, and as they relayed in hushed, elegant Carolina drawls, this trip to coast of Maine had been a dream of theirs since high school. Their joy, the longevity of their friendship and their palpable appreciation of being in a special place at a special time, tore at my heartstrings. I felt deeply honored to have been a witness, and even a modest participant, in their experience.

I'm a "best friend" kind of a woman too. A boy I once knew remarked about me, decades ago, that I'm attracted to boys, but prefer the company of girls. He said this in the nasty tones of condescension, but in reality, he

wasn't far off the mark. Throughout most of my life, I've had a best friend. Unlike the two beautiful ladies from Charleston, however, I haven't had one best friend for more than four decades. It seems, in my life, that I've had different best friends during different seasons in my life. When specific events have taken a turn to shift onto a new path, I've been fortunate to have a friend who has shared the journey with me. When my biological father left our family, and my mom was bravely putting the two of our lives back together, I had a best friend who let me sleep over all I wanted, in her very happy "normal" family. At Kathy's house, I felt secure and part of a peacefully safe tribe. When I was going through feelings of unease at being the only "only child" I knew, my friend Maria welcomed me into her busy, chaotic, fast paced house....getting a taste of sibling life. When I was passionately curious about spirituality and religion, fate opened up the door for me to have not one, but twin best friends who came from a deeply kind Episcopalian home. From them, I learned the faith that would become my own, and would forever change my life. As a new student in a boarding school 3000 miles away from my home, God gave me a sister....one from the same place and from a similar background. We were able to forge through unknown territory together on adventures. She held my head in her lap when I cried over a boy, long since forgotten. She inspired me to take life as it was presented to me, rather than worrying over the way that it had not transpired.

As an adult, I found this experience of friendship appearing didn't change. As a new bride living in Germany, I met others...each one a newlywed too, and each one eager to form a support system. We could pour out our hearts, express our misgivings, our fears and just wonder if what new marriage in foreign country was 'supposed' to be like this. Some of these friends were more hesitant about venturing out on their own but taught me how to cook beyond my ability to heat up frozen food. Others were pioneers, not even using a map to find some out of the way corner of Europe to investigate. I found I learned skills from each of them. Later, I found a best friend in

my childbirth class, another in preschool story hour, one at the children's soccer game and still another purely by chance. Each one of these women was part of my life for a milestone season. From them, I learned independence, how to budget properly, how to mix a mean Martini, how to tell if the hockey puck is off-sides, how to ask the doctor the right questions when I had cancer and how to tell a joke without forgetting the punchline. I've learned how to read a map, how to dress more stylishly and how to find a good hairdresser. I've discovered that some lessons come in the form of 'what not to do'...how not to treat my husband, how not to parent, how not to overreact and how not to leave a marriage. I've learned that some lessons are learned by the experience of others. I've learned that loyalty isn't always forever. I've had my heart broken, and my life enriched...by the same friend at different times.

I don't have a best friend right now. I don't even have a close friend nearby. Most everyone I know has moved, and while I have terrific people to know near and far, I miss that sense of intimacy. I miss being able to look at a woman, with a twinkle in her eye and say "Do you remember that time at that place?", and have her laugh uproariously over an event that's revealed only in shorthand conversation. I miss going shopping together and going to the theater. I miss lying in someone else's bed at midnight, drinking coffee and watching movies. I miss passing books and forth and then phoning every few hours and asking, "What chapter on you on?". I miss having my friend know my favorite foods and laughing about the ones I won't eat. I miss her redoing my hair because "Seriously...what was I thinking?". I miss having someone know my story without my having to rehash 44 years. I miss having a friend remind me of an event that I'd long forgotten...and feeling blessed that someone else could help be my memory keeper. I miss crying on her shoulder, and having her cry on mine. I miss sharing sweaters, borrowing earrings and ordering in Chinese food. I miss having a best friend.

Yet, I continually count my blessings. I have a husband who does love me very much, and despite his need to watch either the Red Sox or the Bruins at all times, is a good and decent man. I have teenagers who are smart and funny and interesting people. I have an accomplished, successful mother of whom I'm extremely proud, and cousins who make me laugh, in spite of myself. I have two dogs and one bunny, who think I've Queen of the World. I have friends with whom I'm still in touch after many yeas, and others who have slipped out of my life. I have wonderful memories, and painful ones. I have hope.

I am still on the lookout for a best friend. I hope she's on the lookout for me too. I am just waiting for us to recognize each other.