Posts byskywhys

39 Years Ago Yesterday

My obsession with nostalgia, my love for all that’s past and lost to me forever, started the day I turned ten and realized, with aching heart, that my age would never again be a single digit.

 

Since then, I’ve mourned the passing of many more ages I will never be again. Still, my brain refuses to acknowledge that I’m a day over 39.  Consequently, it was more than a little traumatic when my oldest son turned 39 yesterday. Isn’t that a medical impossibility?

 

In my dreams, my adult children are always little kids. I long to be with them at five and six again. If I could live my life over, I’d appreciate all the small moments more. Or would I?

 

I recently read The Strange Life of Ivan Osokin by P.D. Ouspensky. Ivan suffers agonizing regret about letting alcohol and laziness ruin his life. He’s certain he’d make wiser choices if given a second chance. He meets a magician who enables him to do exactly that. However, despite Ivan’s full knowledge of the catastrophic results of his prior self-indulgence, he makes the same disastrous decisions.

 

I’d like to believe I’m more self-aware than Ivan but maybe I wouldn’t do it better even if I could do it over. Still, I’d do anything to find out. If Time Travel was an option, I’d be first in line. Unfortunately, despite myriad books and movies suggesting time travel might be real and imminent in my lifetime, my husband informs me due to, uh, reality, it will in fact never be possible in anybody’s lifetime. This is a major disappointment.

 

In order to preserve as much of the past as possible, I’ve filled hundreds of journals with diary entries dating back to 1963. I’ll share some less humiliating entries on my domain next year. I’m traveling over Christmas, so this is probably my last blog in 2015 (say goodbye to another opportunity, forever lost) – but I wish anyone who’s read this far a happy holiday and spectacular New Year.

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 K & CD2

A TRUE CONFESSION

I’ve tried to hide the truth about myself – by pretending just the opposite – for most of my life because it’s embarrassing.

I care more than you can possibly imagine about impressing you – and by you, I mean everyone I’ve encountered in my entire life. Your admiration and approval are my life’s blood. This might be understandable in a child but I’m – well, let’s just say I’m older than that – and if anything I’m needier than I was in Jr. High, thanks to Facebook’s ability to measure who likes you (or doesn’t)  in real time. It’s like offering free limitless heroin to a junkie.

I started thinking about this because a few days ago I posted a picture that garnered (for me) an unprecedented and intoxicating number of likes (50). Thanks to anyone who took the time to comment. I have a small confession about the picture, too. I’ll repost it for those who didn’t see it. (God forbid someone miss it.) .IMG953316

 

Several people commented on how happy I look. In reality, fifteen minutes before the shutter clicked, when we said grace, I had a mini-meltdown. Until this year, my father delivered the Thanksgiving prayer and it felt unbearable he’d never do it again. I broke down and barely recovered in time to fake a toothy grin for my sister Janet’s camera.

I’m not complaining about my life; I know I’ve been blessed and I’m grateful, but – okay, the but suggests I’m complaining – 2015 has been a brutal year. I know I’m not the only one struggling with grief and trying not to show it. My point – and what I need to remember – is that other people struggle with grief as deep as my own and they mask it, like I do, behind self-protective phony smiles. I can’t know what’s really going on with anybody else and shouldn’t presume to judge.

That said, I’m hoping for your favorable judgment. Like everybody else (I’m assuming), I usually only post photos I consider flattering – but in the interest of full disclosure, here’s a shot I’d usually delete.

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Truth be told, right now I’m hoping the above goofy picture coupled with my confession will endear me to you even more so keep those likes coming and ask your friends to like me too, all right? (Joke.) (But love me. Seriously.)

 

 

Feeling Fat? Don a Poncho!

Kathy in Poncho

Sadly, I felt fat A LOT because this brown and white poncho is featured in numerous photos from the mid-sixties (b/w photos) until the mid-seventies (the sole color photograph, with college boyfriend Tom, in suede jacket.) Truth is, I might still have that old wool poncho, although I haven’t worn it in a decade (which is not to say that I haven’t felt fat. Just not fat enough to don the poncho.) As you can see, it conveniently conceals the entire mid-section and – at the time – I truly believed it epitomized hip.  Is the poncho due for a fashion comeback?


Kathy-Tom-Poncho

It’s Not Too Late to be a Model in my Sixties Fashion Gallery!

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As part of a reference/research project for my novel, I’m assembling a gallery of sixties fashions. Rather than reproduce the same old iconic sixties fashion shots we’ve all seen a million times, I want to feature real life baby boomers in the real sixties ensembles we all actually wore. I’m not too proud to post my own humiliating fashion faux pas, so why not join me? I’ll post your name and any comments you offer with your photo if you like, or you can be anonymous. You can send sixties photos of yourself to me at my domain – kathleenrowell.com (where you can also view the galleries as they grow) or you can email them to kathleenkrowell@aol.com.  MALE AND FEMALE FASHION PHOTOS WANTED!!!

 

I’ve broken the gallery into three sections – early sixties (roughly up until the Beatles), mid-sixties (Beatlemania until ’68-69), and late sixties, which in my opinion extends until 1973 fashion-wise, so please note where you think your fashion photo should fall (if you don’t, I’ll take my best guess). Right now, almost all the photos in the gallery are of yours truly, so please save me from my narcissism and send some of yourself in your sixties glory. (And truthfully, is there a baby boomer alive who doesn’t wish that you looked as good now as you did then? Show off your former self! Release your inner model!) Thanks in advance to any and all responders.

SONGS OF SOLACE

 

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My Nuclear Family in Innocent Times – Kathleen, Geneva, Joyce, Vance and Janet

On the morning of March 18, my sister Janet called and told me my father passed away earlier that morning. When my daughter and I got into our car to drive to the assisted nursing facility where my mother now resides and my sisters would be gathering, the very first notes of a song called I Believe (from the Broadway hit Spring Awakening) pierced the car. The words are simple. “I believe – All will be forgiven – I believe – There is love in heaven – Peace and joy be with them – Harmony and wisdom – Oh I believe.” A chorus repeats these words for the duration of the song. Before that day, I considered it one of the least memorable songs from the play but on that desolate early March morning, I was a river of tears all the way to the retirement home. Now, it moves me every time I hear it.

As a teenager, I used to think the songs that played on the car radio held personal messages for me from God, fate or the universe. I outgrew this naïve (and incredibly narcissistic) idea eventually, but it resurfaced when I Believe was the first song to penetrate my shell-shocked grief. In fairness, I had been playing the Spring Awakening CD in the car, making the odds of hitting I Believe significantly higher than on the radio. Still – the CD is about an hour long, of which I Believe takes up all of 2:31. Intellectually, I know I’m constructing meaning out of a mere coincidence. Emotionally, I choose to hear it as a message. (My father was a Lutheran pastor, which is why those particular words resonated so strongly)

A couple weeks ago my sister Joyce gave me a CD she called SONGS OF SOLACE – music that expressed the grief that accompanies a great loss and the perfect soundtrack for a good long cry. These are the songs she selected, which I recommend to anyone who has recently suffered a loss and – like me – finds music helps to process painful emotions.

I’ll comment on some of the other songs in another blog since this is running long. If you know a great song about grief, I’d welcome suggestions for a SONGS OF SOLACE 2.

SONGS OF SOLACE PLAYLIST

  1. I Believe…..from the cast of “Spring Awakening”
  2. Sand and Water……Beth Nielsen Chapman
  3. Silent House…..Dixie Chicks
  4. Flock of Birds…..Coldplay
  5. Beam Me Up……Pink
  6. Brothers in Arms……Dire Straits
  7. Company…..Ricki Lee Jones
  8. My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose……Eva Cassedy
  9. Quarter Moon……Cheryl Wheeler
  10. How Long Will I Love You…….Ellie Goulding
  11. He Lives in You…..from the cast of “The Lion King”
  12. Leader of the Band…..Dan Fogelberg
  13. Texas Girl at the Funeral of her Father……Randy Newman
  14. 10,000 Miles…….Mary Chapin Carpenter
  15. Further and Further Away……Cheryl Wheeler
  16. Theme from the film, “About Time”
  17. Just a Closer Walk With Thee…..from Dixieland Hymns CD (for Vance)
  18. Bright Side of Down……John Gorka

 

About Scandinavians

In a few days, I’m leaving on a trip through Scandinavia. I’ve never been there, even though I’m half Danish and almost half Norwegian (there’s a smidge of Swedish on the Norwegian side).  I have my own stereotypes about Scandinavians based on my extended family but in the interests of objective research, I skimmed two recent books on the topic – The Almost Nearly Perfect People (Behind the Myth of the Scandinavian Utopia) by Michael Booth and How to be Danish (A Journey to the Cultural Heart of Denmark) by Patrick Kingsley. The following bullet points are culled from these books.

  • Danes are joiners; they belong to more clubs than most nationalities.
  • Clubs include choirs, in which the blending of all voices is more important than any one voice – a perfect illustration of the Dane’s flock instinct.
  • Danes have the highest level of trust (in other people) in the world.
  • In the 90s, someone did an experiment in which they left 40 wallets unattended in forty cities. All 40 wallets were returned in only two countries – Denmark and Norway. So apparently some of that trust is warranted.
  • All of the Scandinavian countries talk smack about their neighboring Scandinavian countries. Danes are knocked for deteriorating language skills. Norwegians, resented because of their oil wealth, are knocked for being stupid country bumpkins. However, Sweden is the most intensely despised by its neighbors.
  • Swedes have a heightened fear of appearing foolish “reflected by one of the key words by which the Swedes define themselves – duktig. It literally translates as clever, but this is a specific type of Swedish cleverness; a diligent, responsible kind of clever; punctual, law-abiding, industrious clever.” (Booth)
  • In Sweden, it’s a major faux pas to touch wine glasses after a toast.
  • Swedes don’t converse with each other on buses.
  • Swedes are considered shy and self-effacing.
  • Ake Daun, author of The Swedish Mentality, describes Swedes as “a race of wallflowers racked with insecurities; they would rather take the stairs than share a lift.”
  • Norwegians dress in extravagant national costumes on May 17 (Norwegian Constitution Day) – heavily embroidered dirndls, hobnail shoes, shawls, bright-buttoned breeches, etc.
  • Oslo residents are the second richest in the world, right behind Hartford, Connecticut citizens.
  • Oslo is extremely expensive! Taxi drivers apologize for the fares. “Sorry. It’s Norway.”

More to come in future posts!

My Daughter’s Eulogy for My Father

KKRFamily1

My young, handsome father towing his three daughters on a toboggan.

I lost my father on March 18th. The truth is, I didn’t “lose” him, I know exactly where he is. I’ve been to his grave at Forest Lawn. But even now, more than four months later, it’s hard to write “my father died” because I don’t want to believe it. I cry when I talk about him. I think about him every day and every night. I miss him more than I can say.

I spoke briefly at his funeral.  I shared an amusing anecdote that illustrated who he was as a father. I’ll reconstruct and post it at a later date. My daughter delivered a more moving eulogy which I am reprinting here.

“When I think about my grandpa, the strongest thing that comes to my mind is Love. My grandpa truly loved. Not just his family or his friends, but everyone and everything around him. He saw the beauty in everything… when there was darkness, he always found light.

Grandpa believed in us, every one of us, no matter what. He loved without judgment and without fear. He trusted in us, each of us, to hold the heart he gave so freely to us. And when we faltered, he forgave us.

When people talk about strength, often they think of the strength of the body, or a heart made impenetrable to emotion. To be strong, you must fight the world within and without, prove your domination over others and yourself. To be strong, you cannot care.

I think, instead, that it takes great strength to be kind. It takes great strength to forgive. To be vulnerable. To trust others and try to understand. To have empathy even when you’re strangers, to have sympathy even when you’re hurting. To look past darkness and ugliness to find light and beauty. To look at the world around you and try to make it a better place, any way that you can.
To try and fill this world with love.

He always said it was our greatest and most powerful gift.”

 

 

My Favorite Short Story Collections

I love to read short story collections and admire the craft involved. When I tried to write a few myself, I discovered it’s a lot harder than it looks. (I’ll get into some of the reasons why in a later post.) Here are a few of my favorite collections, in no particular order.

  1. Anything by Alice Munro – she’s simply the best and she makes it look so easy!
  2. Tom Perrotta’s Bad Haircut and Nine inches both made me laugh out loud. I like his novels too but I like the short stories better.
  3. Dan Chaon’s Fitting Ends and Among the Missing captured something Midwestern and hard to define. They stayed in my mind for a long time.
  4. Ron Rash, both Burning Bright and Nothing Gold Can Stay – I like his novels and other collections too but these are favorites.
  5. Ron Carlson’s The Hotel Eden – and I highly recommend his book about writing short stories, fittingly titled Ron Carlson Writes a Story.
  6. Laura Lippman’s Hardly Knew Her – great twist-and-turn nourish stories from a female point of view.
  7. Marly Swick Monogamy and The Summer Before the Summer of Love. Monogamy sat on my bookshelf for years before I picked it up and read it. I loved it so much I immediately ordered The Summer Before the Summer of Love and I wasn’t disappointed. Great stories!
  8. Molly Ringwald’s When It Happens to You: A Novel in Stories. I wasn’t expecting much on the erroneous assumption a talented actress couldn’t possibly write too but I was wrong. I thoroughly enjoyed these stories.
  9. Alix Ohlin’s Signs and Wonders. A relatively new writer and another great find.
  10. Jennifer Egan’s Emerald City and A Visit from the Goon Squad (linked short stories in service of a novel.)

Ten Books that Mattered (A Lot) to Me

I thought I’d compile a list of the books that really mattered to me throughout my life. Perhaps not surprisingly, I read many of them when I was very young, in my “formative” years as a reader. I don’t know if I’d rate them all so highly today based on literary criteria but that’s not my goal here – these are books I cared passionately about, books that influenced me, made a difference. Literary masterpieces and classics are conspicuous by their absence – I’ll cover my favorites there in another list. These are my top ten for sheer entertainment and emotional impact.

 

  • KNIGHT’S CASTLE by Edward Eager – as an adult, I’m not a huge fan of magic fantasy novels, but I loved all of Edward Eager’s magic-based book. This one, an alternative take on Ivanhoe, was my favorite.
  • DAVID AND THE PHOENIX by Edward Ormondroyd – a wonderful children’s book. I cried again when I reread it as an adult.
  • THE MOONFLOWER VINE by Jetta Carleton. Maybe because I’m one of three sister, this tale of three sisters really got to me.
  • TEMPLE OF GOLD by William Goldman. Goldman is more famous for his screenplays, but I’m a huge fan of his novels – especially this impressive debut.
  • THE MAGUS by John Fowles – I read this in college and have re-read it several times since. It starts slow but then it’s a speeding bullet to the finale.
  • REBECCA by Daphne du Maurier – possibly my first exposure to a huge twist ending – which caught my adolescent self by surprise. I read a lot of du Maurier as a result and also liked a couple more obscure ones – MY COUSIN RACHEL and THE PARASITES.
  • GONE WITH THE WIND by Margaret Mitchell – I’m pretty sure this is an unfashionable, politically incorrect choice, but I loved it – and like most teenage girls of my era, I identified strongly with the Ashley-Rhett dilemma.
  • GREEN MILE by Stephen King – I’m not a big fan of horror either, but this was like a textbook on how to write a page-turner – it was almost impossible to put down and the ending really paid off (for me).
  • A SIMPLE PLAN by Scott Smith – the movie is good, but the book is better. It’s so tight, so compelling, and it really stayed with me.
  • ENDLESS LOVE by Scott Spencer – the novel, not the movie. Spencer captured the crazy urgency of adolescent love (for me) and the last paragraph is a thing of beauty.

 

I’d love to read some of your lists if anyone feels like sharing!

My Values in Fiction

Baby K

MY VALUES IN FICTION

Since I’m going to offer reviews and recommendations, I thought I’d clarify my personal value in fiction. I don’t claim to be an authority on anything except my own personal taste. Your value system is equally valid, even if it’s diametrically opposed to mine.

• I read for entertainment. Story is more important than beautiful language. . That’s not to say I don’t admire the perfect word choice – but without an entertaining story, I won’t keep turning pages.
• I read to answer questions to learn something – what happens next? Questions create suspense and propel me forward. Answers (information) should be revealed slowly to keep me interested.
• The train must leave the station (story must start) fast (preferably immediately). As in screenwriting, start late and leave early.
• Never use two words when you can use one better word. No wasted words ever.
• The best stories involve hard decisions, true dilemmas.
• Use small, concrete physical details in description but make sure they tell the reader something new about the character or story.
• Ask yourself David Mamet’s three questions.
• Why now?
• Who wants what from whom?
• What happens if they don’t get it?
• Remember – everybody has their reasons. Even villains/antagonists.
• Protagonists want something passionately. They are active, as are your verbs.
• While not always necessary in literary fiction, I prefer stories in which protagonists change / arc in a satisfying way. Even a failed epiphany is an epiphany.
• Don’t let characters say “I love you”. Show it in interesting ways.
• In literary short stories, small turning points occur when very minor decisions change everything. For me, this doesn’t work in long fiction.
• Short stories shouldn’t snap shut “like a cheap lock” – allow for ambiguity. It’s good if the reader wonders about the story after reading it.