musings – Nomadic Noesis

The Best Laid Plans of 1914

A few weeks ago, our neighborhood hosted a day of garage sales, and these two curiosities made their way home with me–tour itineraries for England, Wales, and Contintental Europe, for the years 1913 and 1914.

I assume all went well in 1913, since the tour organizer, Ms. Stella M. Weyer of Washington, PA, decided a repeat was in order for the next year. Perhaps she had begun what she believed would be a years-long career. Who knows?

Looks like a fascinating travel plan:

As an added item of interest, when I opened the 1913 booklet, a packer’s voucher from Phoenix Knitting Works fell out. It was dated 6/4/13. I guess someone mail ordered a scarf or something to wear on their sojourn.

Some of the tour notes telling travelers what to anticipate are a delight to read from a 2025 perspective. “Our motor cars are procured of the best London firm, are high-grade machines…driven by expert chauffeurs. The average rate of speed will approach twenty miles an hour…”

That’s 1913.

Looking at the 1914 itinerary evokes a whole different set of feelings.

The journey was set to begin from New York on July 2, and I’m burning with curiosity to know how far the group actually made it into the trip. Did they even embark after learning of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand a few days earlier? Or were they unaware of the direction things were heading, and figured it would blow over?

July 27th has them arriving in Paris, the day before Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia, the official beginning of World War I. Their plan for mid-August was to visit Germany and Austria. By that time, several countries had been drawn into the fight, including France, Britain, Luxembourg, Belgium and Russia.

Imagine being in the middle of what was to be your vacation of a lifetime only to find yourself witnessing the commencement of the bloodiest, most widespread war the world has ever seen. How do you get the universe to laugh? Make a plan.

I have gone down some rabbit holes trying to find any other information about these tours, specifically the fate of the 1914 venture. But no luck. I have however, learned a bit about Stella Marshall Weyer, the organizer listed in both pamphlets.

She was born in 1876 in Portsmouth, Ohio. So she would have been in her mid to late thirties when all this was going down. And she lived in St. Louis for a portion of her life, which could be related to why I found her travel plans kicking around in central Missouri more than a century later, though she never married or had children as far as I could find.

A St. Louis Post-Dispatch article from 1893 lists Stella as a new graduate of Hosmer Hall, an all-girls’ school. An 1896 society article says she’s traveling to Leipzig to visit her brother and study art. Aha! She was experienced in European travel from a relatively young age. (Sorry, these are behind a pay-walled database through my local library, so I can’t link to them.)

Most significantly, I discovered she volunteered as a Red Cross canteen worker in France during the war, returning to the U.S. in 1919, after the Armistice of November 11, 1918. It’s possible her group was in France at the outbreak of hostilities, and she just stayed there, helping. She only lived a few more years, dying in 1923 of glioma of the brain.

In the past few years, we have seen for ourselves what it’s like to live inside of history. I know I’m still reeling from the world changing virtually overnight when the pandemic hit in 2020. But coming across these artifacts and learning a little about one single person who was caught in the maelstrom of world events has added a new layer of introspection.

Maybe what I’m learning is that we, in our current time and our place, just aren’t special. We’re not exempt. Anyone anywhere can find themselves in the middle of some kind of troubles. Our choice is whether and how to do some good anyway. Stella Marshall Weyer appears to have risen to an astounding occasion and volunteered in a way that was available to her. I’m going to keep that in mind this Armistice Day/Veterans’ Day.

Jane Goodall, Secretary

“You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”

― Jane Goodall

I assume everyone has by now heard the news of Jane Goodall’s passing. Like many others, I found inspiration in her achievements. I admire the work of anyone who helps us deepen our understanding of life on this planet and our place within that web. The older I get, the more my philosophy and sense of ethics boils to down to “everything is connected.”

But Goodall inspired me in another way. Several years ago, while I was creating my own unorthodox educational path toward my personal goals, I went to hear her speak. And she told the story of how she got started in the study of chimps in the wild, which is that she went to secretarial school.

As a young woman, she already knew her dream was to travel to Africa and learn about wildlife. But she didn’t have the money for college, and pathways were not created for women of modest means. So she and her mother together cooked up a plan that Jane would qualify as a secretary so that she could find work anywhere, save her money to travel to Africa, and hopefully get a clerical job with someone who was doing the research she dreamed of. A foot in the door at the right place.

Through hard work, lots of brain power and the support of her mother, the plan was stunningly successful. Goodall first worked for Dr. Louis Leakey at a natural history museum. But he was so impressed with her, he decided she would be the perfect candidate to send out to observe the chimpanzees. When she eventually did embark on PhD studies many years later, she did so without ever having done any formal undergraduate work.

Hearing this story at that time in my life meant more to me than anyone could have imagined. It’s a vast understatement to say my own personal accomplishments pale in comparison to Dr. Goodall’s, but they mean a lot to me. I believe a lot of us should take her lesson to heart. If you feel a strong calling but don’t see a road to it, get creative, come at it sideways, build a road.

I’ll wrap up with another of my favorite Jane Goodall quotes: “It actually doesn’t take much to be considered a difficult woman. That’s why there are so many of us.”

Today’s New Thing

Though I haven’t posted about it as much as I intended, I’m still on a quest for new experiences. They can be big or small. The little ones quite often can be pretty darned fulfilling . It’s not necessary to travel great distances or spend a lot of money to discover more of the world. It’s all a matter of attention and attitude.

So today’s new to me experience was eating cranberry-apple jam from the farmers’ market. So tasty! And yes, I am acclimating to farmers’ market shopping. I still stay only a few minutes, making one or two purchases. But it’s opening up my life some more.

Despite all the troubles, there’s still a whole world of delights all around us, waiting to be noticed. It’s important not to lose sight of that.

What’s it Like in Cat Heaven?

For the first time in 22 years, my household is catless. For a period of years, we had three cats. But one by one, they have crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Puffies (or Puffaroo or Puffington or Puff Daddy or Puffing Thing, depending on the day) was our last feline standing.

He showed up on our porch nearly 12 years ago and communicated quite clearly, “I live here now.” The vet at that time estimated him to be 3 or 4 years old. So he was getting on in years lately. He and my husband had developed an old guy ritual of going out together in the mornings to watch the sunrise before coming back in for breakfast. I swear, they even started looking like each other.

Last week, out of the blue, our beloved kitty had a seizure. Then he stopped eating. After a trip to the vet ER, we learned he had a mass on his pancreas that was causing his blood glucose to bottom out. But we were able to take him home with some medicines that helped him perk up and enjoy some food for a couple of days before the pills stopped working.

His brain cells were scarce, but he was an exceptionally affectionate knucklehead and craved human companionship at all times. Over the weekend, we were able to make sure he spent very little time alone. The weather blessed us, and he got to spend a lot of time out in the back yard, lying in the grass, feeling the sunbeams and smelling the smells, while we hung out in camp chairs. When he was inside, I refrained from upsetting behaviors such as running the vacuum.

Monday, we had a vet come to the house and help Puffies the last bit of the way across the veil, before the pain became unbearable for him. It was about as good an ending as you could hope for, even if we would never be ready for it.

Now that all of our cats are gone, I find myself wondering what cat heaven might be like. There are no vacuum cleaners, for sure! Also no garbage disposals. I believe any door can be opened with a wishful thought, rather than a need for height and opposable thumbs. The food is always smell-rich, and humans never take away the bowl, saying you’ve had enough. Of course, it’s the correct food–human servants will never make a wrong selection. There are heating pads aplenty, all set at the perfect temperature for napping in the ever-present sunbeams. Oh, and boxes. So many boxes! This is what I like to imagine as I try to heal the cat-sized hole in my heart.

We are not ready to think about another pet. At all. So please don’t tell us about your cousin’s step-sister’s cat’s new litter of kittens. Though I am happy we took in every kitty we ever had, we just can’t go there again yet, or maybe ever. Time will tell.

Do One Thing: Farmers’ Market

Can a bag of onions make a meaningful difference in the world? I sure hope so!

I know many of us are searching for ways to make a positive impact right now in a time when a lot of things are going very wrong. While we might not experience many opportunities to take big actions, every one of us can do one thing. And those individual contributions add up.

I’ve come to believe community building needs to be an essential focus right now. One specific part of that is supporting local businesses and local agriculture. It’s becoming more vital every day to reinforce strong local food systems.

For a while, I had a subscription to an every-other-week produce box through a local store’s community supported agriculture program. But that was not working out for me logistically, so I cancelled a while back. My little city has a nice, largish, year-round farmer’s market, as well as some smaller seasonal ones. I kept telling myself I should hit them up for some of my food. But even thinking about it made my anxiety spike.

The big market, at least, is a perfect storm of social anxiety and sensory issues for me. I would have to deal with a lot of noise, bustle and crowds while trying to make decisions in a setting where I wasn’t sure of the rules or expectations. That’s every one of my buttons pushed, right there in one go.

But then I made a plan. A bite-sized plan. I could get myself used to farmers’ market shopping and learn the ropes by starting small. All I had to do was go in and buy one item, then leave. Still an improvement over no items from local farmers.

And I did it Saturday morning! I was a little overwhelmed, but I wore my Loop earplugs to minimize noise, looked around for one clearly marked item that I needed, found the onions, and paid. Then I went on to the usual grocery store for the rest of my shopping trip. It’s a start. I can keep taking more steps.

What if we all looked for one step each day or each week? How much difference could we make? Let’s try it and see! Let’s go!

Snow Days Without Children

Snowy yard and driveway with houses across the street, seen from a window

I’ve had two different inclement weathers days off work this past week, which made me nostalgic for the snow days of yore when my kids were young. Sure, there was some inconvenience involved, but also so much magic and fun. I loved sledding, snowball fights and sculpting creatures to decorate our yard.

I admit, I also realize I took for granted the level of energy I had back then. The work of getting through winter takes more out of me now. But I still want to enjoy it. I wonder how weirdly people would take it if I showed up alone at one of the popular sledding hills in town all on my own, just this 60-year-old woman.

I’m still healthy and strong enough to wield a shovel. But the big yard where the kids could play when we bought our house came with a long stretch of sidewalk that takes a while to dig out. We have a shared driveway with an apartment building, and the owners hire someone to remove snow. However, for the Sunday/Monday weather event, he had equipment problems, which meant a huge mess at the end of the drive where the city snowplows repeatedly left a lumpy, frozen wall, and our neighbor with a large pickup kept driving through it.

Piles of rutted snow at the end of a driveway — Where the driveway ends you’ll find snowplow debris there.

I knew if we were to get our own cars out I had to move mountains before the overnight Monday freeze. My husband was wrapped up in telework deadlines while my son was under the weather. And I don’t believe any of the next-door tenants own shovels. So this heavy labor fell to me. I took a break for a photo about halfway through the job. After 90 minutes, I finally had it passable for cars.

Smoothed down snow over driveway, with footprints.

After that, my arms were jelly, and I only wanted to sit quietly with a cup of tea.

Along about Thursday night, here came a second snowstorm, one that kept accumulating all Friday morning. For that one, the apartment owners found someone who had a heavy-duty truck with a plow on front. He got the apartment lot and driveway passable pretty quickly. But in the process, he walled in all egress points from our house. After the snow stopped, I went out our side door believing I only had to clear our porch steps and front walkway, but encountered this:

Wall of plowed snow chunks blocking a walkway

Fortunately, it was fresh with no melt and refreeze, so not tooooo difficult to work through. And then there was the wall blocking the front walkway from our porch to the drive and the wall built up behind our cars at the edge or our carport.

Snow piled up behind three cars — That snow wall is higher than it looks.

This all turned into another hour and a half session. However, the temperature was perfect for being outdoors in snow – right around 30 degrees with no wind. I was pretty tuckered again, but not so much I didn’t consider at least making a small snowperson.

However, I decided our block was represented well enough by the neighbors’ large one.

I was able to take a few minutes to enjoy the sights, so joy found its way through the drudgery. I do love the beauty of winter.

Close up of booted foot (black snow boot) with jeans tucked in and snow more than ankle high behind — Good footwear is essential

Sunflower with many blooms in winter snow. Each blossom hangs like a round snowy ornament — Good footwear is essential

Someone else was traipsing through the snow.

But it wasn’t this guy, who doesn’t know what all the fuss is about.

He did keep me company while I rested up with a cup of tea. So he earned his keep in that way.

My Year in Reading: 2024

Some words about some books I read this year.

Fiction that ticked the categories for favorite of the year, most original, and book I wish I had written:

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone
Labeling this is my favorite fiction read is really saying something because I had an exceptionally good reading year with amazing authors.

This is a time travel story, but not in a headache-inducing way that requires the reader to become a double-ledger accountant. Top agents from each side in the time war finally find worthy adversaries in each other and begin a prohibited correspondence, taunting each other to begin with. This is also an enemies-to-love-interest romance. The plot, such as it is, doesn’t center on the tides of the war. It’s very much about the evolution of the relationship, carried on solely through spy vs. spy type activities and letters delivered in increasingly devious ways. It contains lots of allusions to history, art, and other works of literature. Finding those little easter eggs is fun.

These lines hit me hard in light of current events. “Hope may be a dream. But she will fight to make it real.”

Author who was double dipped by me this year:

Emily St. John Mandel, with Sea of Tranquility and The Glass Hotel.

Sea of Tranquility is yet another time travel book. I guess that’s my theme for 2024? It’s the story of three different people experiencing the same eerie phenomenon at the exact same place in the Canadian wilderness – the feeling, sights and sounds of being in two places at one time, accompanied by the sounds of violin music and airship travel — but spaced out over centuries. It’s also a tale of a pandemic and humanity’s perpetual existential crisis, as embodied by a time traveler who is determined to unravel the mystery.

In The Glass Hotel , the narrative moves back and forth in time. But none of the characters time travel. I will read anything by Emily St.John Mandel because she knows how to tell a story, and especially how to take you deep into a character’s point of view. The glass hotel is the central “character” that serves as a hub connecting everyone else in the book. This is a character-driven narrative, but also a page turner. The 2008 economic collapse plays a big part in the plot, with its ripples spreading throughout many lives.

Climate fiction that shows how to hold onto hope amidst devastating loss:

Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy is set in a near-future world of mass extinctions. Franny Lynch, is obsessed with following what is probably the very final migration of the few remaining arctic terns. Through flashbacks, we come to learn Franny’s story and ultimately, what is driving her fierce–one could even say maniacal–determination to see through her project. After she talks her way onto a fishing boat, promising the captain he’ll find fish if he follows the birds, we also come to know the members of the crew and see their relationships with Franny develop.

One of the early mysteries of the book is what happened to Franny’s mother, who disappeared when Franny was ten years old. Disappeared just like the birds and the fish and many animals are doing. Largely, this is a book about grief and how we can try to heal and move forward in the face of unfathomable loss.

Fiction that made me both ugly cry and laugh myself silly:

In Maame, Jessica George bestows a terrific voice on her main character, Maddie Wright, a 25-year-old Londoner who still lives with her dad because she has become his primary caretaker since his Parkinson’s diagnosis. Maddie’s mother spends months at a time in Ghana, purportedly helping with a family business. And Maddie’s brother James is just too busy. When the chance finally arises for Maddie to move out on her own, she has a lot of lost time to make up for.

Memoir that made me ponder the existential:

In My Time of Dying by Sebastian Junger, who approaches his own near-death experience with the same investigative techniques he uses for other topics, weaving anecdote and feeling with background information. I was struck by his determination to try to understand how physics ties in with the possibility of an afterlife considering that his own event involved an interaction with his late father, a dedicated and accomplished scientist.

Quote:
“Your pulse is your life, the ultimate proof you’re animate and have something rare to lose. Everything alive has some kind of flux and ebb, and when that stops, life stops. When people say life is precious, they are saying that the rhythmic force that runs through all things–your wrist, your children’s wrists, God’s entire green earth–is precious.”

Memoir that resonated with me so hard I talked about it in therapy:

The Exvangelicals by Sarah McCammon is a book I really needed. As an exvangelical myself, it was a deeply meaningful read for me. I think there’s a lot of healing in sharing stories and knowing you’re not the only one. I’ve been out of extreme right-wing evangelical Christianity for decades now (I do still consider myself Christian, just a different flavor) and am still unravelling all the threads. It might be my life’s work.

McCammon shares not only her own experience, but also words from other exvangelicals, many of whom point to their former church’s embrace of Trump as an inflection point for them. As one of the earliest of Gen X, I had a very similar experience re: Reagan. I wasn’t voting age the first time he ran, but I was just starting to tune into politics and couldn’t wrap my head around my elders choosing him over Carter because they believed Reagan was more “pro family.”

Quote: “Wounded people have a natural instinct to push back, to protect themselves. And for those of us who grew up in the culture wars–who’ve been trained to fight and to fight hard–laying down the sword, taking off the armor, and tending those wounds is one of the biggest battles of all.”

Nonfiction I believe will be useful in the coming year(s):

I wish there was no need for On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder. But given the circumstances, I’m glad it exists. Each chapter is only a few pages and focuses on one piece of advice in dealing with authoritarian governments. The general format is directive/short explanation of what he means by it/ historical example of how people have done it effectively/practical suggestions for your own life.

There’s a lot in here about living authentically, embracing truth, maintaining empathy and building community. But it’s all succinct and easy to follow. I highly recommend reading it ASAP.

Onward to 2025! May our lives be full of joy, meaning, and books!

Christmas Season Thoughts: What a Time to Have a Baby

Merry Christmas, from my family to yours!

I look at some of my younger acquaintances who are starting families, and my heart breaks a little. I can’t imagine starting out my parenting journey in the world as it is now. The difficulties they will face, the battles they will have to fight.

I don’t say this to them, however. Maybe because I remember oldsters saying it when I was having my children, back in the mid to late 90s. And I heard it again when the internet came along and we had to be the first generations of parents ever to figure out how that fit into child raising.

We don’t get to choose the times in which we live. We only get to choose how we respond. I know plenty of Millennials and Gen Z who are foregoing parenthood, some due to the political and/or actual climate. I respect that. But I also respect and support my younger crew who are choosing to hope enough to go ahead and have the baby they want. I mean, is it ever really the opportune moment to bring a child into this messed up world?

Look at Mary. I’m sure there were people who saw a hugely pregnant teenager, not even able to secure lodging, and shook their heads. And with Herod in power? Didn’t she know how likely it was they would become refugees in pretty short order? Who would she expect to accept and take them in? What a time for anyone to have a baby.

Anyway, here’s a poem I wrote that I’m pretty sure I’ve shared before. It seems pretty relevant right now. (It’s an abecedarian poem, by the way.)

All the Troubles and Yet

All the troubles everywhere, yet a
Baby brings joy, each new
Child in my circle a welcome
Discovery that the world goes on
Each one accepted as the
Finest example of what the universe offers
Greeted with adoration and wonder
Heralded with hope
Imagine receiving that level of tenderness
Just for being, freely given
Love with no expectations
Meaning found simply in connection
No earning it or losing it
Only a thereness
Produced because it’s how we survive
Quarrels most certainly will arrive
Right along with disappointments
Suffering and sickness
There’ll be time to think on those
Upsets later, rather than wasting the
Velvet days of infancy with our minds
X number of years in the future
Youth speeds away but comes
Zipping back to humanity again and again

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! May we be able to keep our focus on love and support for those in need, and may we celebrate the most vulnerable among us.

Thanksgiving, My ABC’s of Gratitude

On Thanksgiving, I’m reminded to give my gratitude practice the effort it deserves. Here are some things for which I’m grateful, in alphabetical order.

Abundance in many areas of my life — food, love, and more.

Books! A foundational building block of my life and career.

Coworkers. I work with the best people. They are caring, talented, and fun.

Dishwasher. One thing I do not miss from my youth were the nights it was my turn to wash the dishes by hand. For a family of eight. I love having a dishwasher.

Exercise. I’m grateful that I’m still able to move my body pretty well.

Family. Obvious, but also true. I feel especially grateful that my two kids (in their twenties) have grown up to be people who care and do good in the world.

Graduation. I was able to hang in there for so many years fulfilling my educational odyssey, and finally saw it through to completion.

House. For all its quirks and frustrations, I love my 120ish-year-old house. It is one of a kind, with lots of character.

Ice cream. Enough said.

Jean jacket. Unfortunately, I don’t have a photo to share, and I don’t have it with me right now. But I found the most amazing jean jacket at a thrift store about six years ago. People compliment me every time I wear it. Best $10 I ever spent.

Kettle. There’s something deeply comforting about putting a kettle on the stove to make my tea as opposed to the efficiency of the microwave.

Labor unions. My own workplace union has improved my life immensely. And goodness knows we need some way of leveling the playing field. Solidarity forever!

Monarch butterflies. They are beautiful and important pollinators. I’ve started seeing them in my yard again the past few years since I got some milkweed established.

Nightlights. For those midnight bathroom trips.

Ordinary days. May we still have some ordinary days in which the curse of living in interesting times is held at bay, and we can experience the miracle of the everyday.

Paint. For the color it brings to the world and being an easy way to freshen up a room.

Quicksand, lack of in my life. From the tv cartoons and shows I watched growing up, I thought patches of deathly quicksand would pose a major problem in my life. But so far, I’ve had zero encounters.

Rainbows. Every sighting is magical.

Soil. Good dirt grows good food.

Thrift stores. I love a bargain and sustainability.

Umbrellas. I walk a lot, even in wet weather. It’s nice to get to and from work without getting soaked when it rains.

Videos. Funny and/or cute animal videos, especially. They are my salvation when I need an escape from stress.

Woods to walk through. I’m fortunate to have a few options for this not too far from my home.

X – I’m thankful for having mellowed enough to allow myself a pass sometimes without fretting about it.

You. Yes, you who are reading this.

Ziplines. So much fun! I’ve only been on two, but they were wonderful adventures.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

On Today’s Bike Ride: Alt Universe Edition

Black bicycle with blue basket leaning on wooden bridge rail. — Freida looking out over Perche Creek

This week is feeling particularly alternative universe to me, of the dystopian variety in many ways. How could we have time looped back four years and be reliving the nightmare?

On top of that, I received a text alert this morning as I was leaving my house for work telling me not to show up because there was a fire at the building. WHAT? Fortunately, it was small and quickly extinguished. Unfortunately, it was in one of the air handlers of our HVAC system, so that distributed the smoke pretty well throughout the structure, requiring some mitigation.

Bright side – it was a gorgeous fall day with temperatures in the upper 50s. My favorite weather. Might as well take advantage of the surprise day off to get Freida out of the shed and hit the trail, away from news and worries and automotive traffic…