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Family Uncategorized

Crazy Days

Crazy days.

Not as in crazy sale days that small (and large, and maybe medium)  towns across the Midwest (and maybe other parts of the country) host in the high heat in the middle of each summer (or fall, winter and spring). Clearly, crazy day sales is not something I research.

I’m talking elections, undeliverable ballots (WHY?), voting restrictions in states such as Oklahoma and Texas compared to, say, Illinois — events that occurred over the last few days and have encroached into the limited space that’s left in my brain.

Illinois voting card. Photo credit: Instagram @aliceleewimberly

The space in my brain is limited because it’s full of 50-and-still-counting years of collecting and analyzing information while trying to maintain some semblance of emotional normalcy.

My husband, an ecologist who studies landscape management, believes he can build a model that would successfully predict my growth and changes in reaction to natural and human disturbances. He calls this nonexistent model Anne-scape Management.

Sometimes I do wish that an automated system could manage me. The system would guide me through the steps of removing dirty clothes from the floor to hanging them neatly in a closet; reading student papers efficiently while providing helpful feedback and a desirable grade; getting dressed and happily (happily being the operative word here) walking the dogs every morning.

Ivo and Slushee help garden.

I hope that the automated system has a turn-off button. The system needs to turn off the moment I experience relaxation. Not any relaxation, though, relaxation with joy. Like writing a really good article. Or reading a fantastic book. Or working in the garden. Creating a card to send to a loved one. Cooking a nice meal with my family. Yoga.

This is why I feel crazy. I want to not emote. I want to accept things as they come. I want to tell people that everything will be okay, when, clearly, it isn’t.

I’ve had this feeling of desperation several times in my life. Each instance has been temporary, like the time I got lost in the woods and spent the night hunkered down on a cliff’s edge. I could hear the roaring river below me. I was terrified yet had the best sleep of my life that night.

Years later, I was about to give birth to my son. The obgyn told me all sorts of things during my pregnancy that culminated in an early decision that this kid was going to be a NICU kid. I didn’t understand the reasoning. Then the kid came early, was delivered by a different doctor, and I had no choice.

My obgyn called me after my son was born and admitted to the NICU to say she thought she’d made a mistake, this pregnancy probably was more normal than she thought, the baby probably was in utero the right amount of time, she (and I) just didn’t realize how pregnant I was when I walked into her clinic for the first pregnancy visit.

Boy, I can’t tell you how exactly frickin’ crazy I felt during that phone call.

Fast forward again, several years later, to another major crazy days period of my life. My 89-year old mother was dying. I live far from my parents. Many of my siblings live within proximity and checked in with my folks daily. I’m forever grateful for the time they’ve spent with my parents, and now, with my father.

I managed to visit my parents one or two times a year. My husband and I also hosted them at our home each year. When we knew my mother was sick, I visited without my husband and children. I returned home in tears to tell my husband and children that my mother was dying.

My mother, me, and my father.

I recalled how, during my visit, I sat with one of my sisters minutes before a family video call. I told her Mom was dying. She told me that the point of the call was to keep Mom alive,  not to talk about her death.

The call began. My siblings discussed practical things for my mother, how to get her places, how to keep her company, what and when to feed her.  How far she could walk.

I felt crazy. Everyone knew Mom was sick. And old. And dying. But the topic was taboo. But death was exactly what I wanted to talk about.

Even though many other crazy  moments in my life have occurred, I want to return to the present. To today. Wednesday, November 6, 2024.

The one thing that sets this day apart from the others I described is that the craziness I feel today isn’t unique. It isn’t my own. It’s a shared crazy. And one, ironically, that I prepared myself for, in much the same way I prepared for my mother’s death.

A deep, unspoken part of me knew that this would be the outcome. I wanted Kamala to win. I wanted to be a proud American who could say “Look at us, World! We’re progressing! We care about you!”

However, I kept asking myself What will I do when, not if, Trump is elected? How will I approach conversations that erupt around me? How can I ward off fear and promote hope for my children? For my husband? For myself?

I, like many of you, have witnessed the growth of misinformation and disinformation on the internet, and the takeover of local news outlets by rich, powerful individuals and corporations. People love rumors, love to be the first to hear and share shocking information. People dream of being the one who can easily manipulate others, even with all the anti-bullying rhetoric that has flooded our schools.

All of this helped me believe in the inevitable.

My answer to What will I do seems to be generated by the yet-to-be-built Anne-scape model. My response is deceptive in that it is self-serving.

My answer follows the advice given to me by grief counselors I visited following my mother’s death.

My answer echoes the directives my kind delivery doctor gave immediately after my son was born and a day before my husband left to be with his dying father.

My answer follows what my brain told my body to do when I was precariously perched on a cliff, high above a raging river.

My answer: Take care of myself.

Then take care of my family, my friends and community. In this order.

Here are some ways in which I feel I can manage the upcoming Crazy Days:

Pick up my dirty clothes, wash and fold them, and put them away in the closet. Then do the same for my husband and son and anyone who visits my home.

Grade my students’ papers with integrity and not worry about their grades because college courses are a great and safe place to fail — and succeed.

Relish  feeding my family because we are good at planning, preparing and eating meals together.

Walk the dogs with joy every day.

Read and write and garden without feeling crazy for what I have, who I am, what I am willing to do.

Send you, dear reader, this homemade card.

Practice yoga.

I empathize with everyone who feels crazy. I empathize with those who feel threatened, scared, angry, abused, ignored. I’m not sure how to help you except to say don’t be like Homer Simpson.

Homer Simpson – Go crazy? Don’t mind if I do!

These days are crazy, but you and I — we are not crazy.

At least, I believe this would be of the outcome of the yet-to-be-built Anne-scape model.

This ordinary girl truly hopes that you find a way not sell yourself short during these Crazy Days. Buy into caring for your physical, mental, emotional and intellectual self. Support your loved ones. Take time to do something that is uniquely you once in a while.

Crazy days can last a long time, but rarely do they last forever.

Categories
Literature

High Tale Adventures: A Review of Menopause and The Princess Bride

I can’t remember when I had a summer as eventful as the summer of 2024. Oh, I know I’m writing this in early September, which falls into astronomical summer, because real fall doesn’t start until September 22. Some of us, however, returned to school and work in August, which feels like our summer is truncated, even though our school years end in May, which is technically not summer, but spring.

The southern California coastline, looking north, towards Los Angeles.

My point is not to give you a lesson in the astronomical seasons, but to tell you that I had an adventurous summer. My family and I traveled to and through eleven states (Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, Montana, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma) to attend a funeral, bar mitzvah and a family reunion. We visited three national parks and two national monuments. We hiked, swam, fished, drove and drove and drove. I got shingles in my eye, had some kind of bronchial infection, and entered into a new phase of my life that feels insanely unique but is experienced by half of the human population ­— menopause. I’ve learned that  “this stage of life” is still discussed in hushed whispers amongst friends and acquaintances. Whispering is not my style, so I’m going to keep on sharing.

Menopausal me, on a trail in the Grand Teton National Park, hiking and hiding my shingles.

I feel like I have been kidnapped by two different parties — one that wants me to never sleep, and one that wants me to sleep for long hours. Every evening, my criminal menopausal mind asks me to choose between Doritos or ice cream for dinner, sans salad. Every morning, I feel like I’m climbing the Cliffs of Insanity after avoiding the Fire Swamp where Rodents of Unusual Size entangle me in the bedding (hear me, Ladies?).

Okay, I may be borrowing from William Goldman’s adventure novel The Princess Bride, S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High-Adventure, The “Good Parts” Versions, abridged by William Goldman, which was published fifty-and-still-counting years ago. This book is one of my all-time favorites, and the first one we listened to during our car trip through eleven states earlier this summer. More than ever, I appreciated the characters, the adventures, and the unpredictability. In my current “stage of life”, I can be as mean as Count Rugen, as selfish as Prince Humperdinck, as alone as Fennik, as vengeful as Inigo Montoya, and as heroic as Westley. Buttercup’s beauty is difficult to contest, but, well, she is still young. I’d like to see how she behaves during “this stage of life”.

The Dread Pirate Roberts, portrayed by Kermit the Frog, climbs the Cliffs of Insanity to reach Buttercup, portrayed by Purple Hippo.

The Princess Bride is one of my favorite books not only because it is humorous and adventurous, but because the good guys win and the bad guys lose. I hope not to lose my sanity to menopause. And to win back my ability to focus for more than five minutes. I would also like to lose the weight I’m gaining, the sudden cravings for something sweet or crunchy, and the sweating. So. Much. Sweat.  I’d like to lose the mood swings. I hate mood swings. I hate the sweats. I hate the cravin – wait, I think I like the cravings! I love Doritos and chocolate chip ice cream! They’re unpredictable.

The Doritos and chocolate chip ice creams aren’t unpredictable; everything else is.  And that’s something that menopause and The Princess Bride have in common. Nothing happens as predicted and every event is the beginning of something new – a new stage in life.

This ordinary girl, during this somewhat unpredictable and adventurous stage of her life, wrote a review of William Goldman’s The Princess Bride, S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High-Adventure, The “Good Parts” Versions, abridged by William Goldman, during the first two weeks of September, which is technically summer but somewhat fall. Enjoy!

 

The Princess Bride, S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure book jacket

Review

Reviewed Work: William Goldman, The Princess Bride, S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High-Adventure, The “Good Parts” Versions, abridged by William Goldman (Harcourt, 2007), 456 pp. ISBN 978-0-015-603521-7.

Review by: A. M. Cosgrove Wimberly

599 words

September 9, 2024

William Goldman’s (1931-2018) enchanting novel The Princess Bride, S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High-Adventure, The “Good Parts” Versions, abridged by William Goldman, was published in 1973. Goldman completed the screenplay on May 3, 1986.  The Princess Bride movie, directed by Rob Reiner and released in 1987, pleased critics but not mainstream audiences. The film became popular after it reached the home movie market in July 2000.

Goldman wrote the book in a manner that is meant to be seen and heard. The story begins with a fictional Goldman who reveals that his grandfather read The Princess Bride to him when he was ill. The narrator Goldman reads the book to his son. He tells his son that the book was written by S. Morgenstern, setting himself up as a believable unreliable narrator.

Goldman further engages his readers by creating memorable characters. Each character has a unique voice and physical trait. Fezzik, the giant from Turkey, likes to rhyme. Inigo, the skinny Spaniard, repeats his name and vengeance. The short Sicilian Vizzini speaks in conditional statements and labels every conclusion as “inconceivable”. The very strong and handsome Farm Boy, also known as Westley and the Dread Pirate Roberts, proclaims his love for Buttercup by answering her every need with “As you wish”.  Buttercup begins as nothing more than the most beautiful and innocent woman in the world but raises her voice as a queen when needed. Goldman cloaked every character with such vibrancy that, once read, are seen and heard.

Goldman burdens his characters with unforgettable inherited traits. Buttercup’s beauty is her curse, because it attracts the attention of Prince Humperdinck. Prince Humperdinck has no interest in marriage but is obligated to do so to keep his position upon his father’s death. Wesley is strong and handsome and loves Buttercup but is poor. Although these traits impede each character’s progress, they become strengths throughout moments of uncertainty.

Goldman knows that a good story also needs physical obstacles. His characters swim past shrieking eels, climb the Cliffs of Insanity, partake in sword fights, play with poison, endure the Fire Swamp, and withstand separation and near death in the names of vengeance, trust and true love.

Goldman makes every character work very hard for what they want. He recognizes that in order to write a compelling story, no character is allowed to accomplish victory alone. Goldman introduces new, and just as colorful, characters at the mid-point and again at the beginning of the climax. One midpoint character is the albino who helps the six-fingered duke torture Westley, and the climax characters include the affectionate couple who are not witches, Valerie and Miracle Max. The addition of these characters prevents readers from becoming bored with the mainstream cast and add increased action and interest to the story.

The theme of this fairy-tale is true love, as written in the title. Goldman avoids definitively granting true love to Westley and Buttercup. He also is careful to not make Westley the only hero of the story. Inigo and Fezzik experience the classic hero’s journey — profound physical and emotional journeys that result in personal tragedy and triumph — more so than Westley, who always knew who he was through his love for Buttercup.

The Princess Bride, S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High-Adventure, The “Good Parts” Versions, abridged by William Goldman contains every element required for a captivating story —colorful characters, awful obstacles, lack of successes, and a strong theme. The humorous book and movie continue to enchant audiences, some of whom still search for additional works by the fictional S. Morgenstern.

Categories
Family

Tornado Turmoil and Garden Delights

Fifty-four tornadoes have been recorded to date (May 7, 204) for the year 2024 in Oklahoma. Many storms have passed by Norman, where I live. Some of those were predicted to pass over my neighborhood, but, by some fate either dissipated or moved off in another direction.

Yesterday, May 6, 2024, several activities were cancelled due to expected bad weather for the second time in one week. The first set of cancelled activities occurred the weekend prior, which was unfortunate for several reasons – it was the weekend of: Norman Music Festival, a free festival that features hundreds of musicians; Festival of the Arts in Oklahoma City; various high school proms; competition for Olympic river rafters at Riversports OKC; and more.

My son and I already planned to complete work in the morning and attend activities in the afternoon. The cancellation of events that we hoped to attend (the Norman Music Festival and the Festival of the Arts) swirled with the repeated tornado warnings to create an ambience of anxiety and disappointment in our house.

We didn’t have to shelter until 9 p.m. the evening of April 27.

My kids in our tornado shelter during a weather event in 2022.

We grabbed everything we held dear and near to us – the dogs, the pet rats, the pet leopard gecko. My son managed to stuff his favorite puppy pillow under his arm, and I managed to transport my stemless glass of wine.

Yesterday’s storm warnings for Norman were for strong winds that had potential to become tornadic. The late afternoon breeze pushed some of the humidity out of the air. I didn’t want to wait in fear as I had the weekend prior. Instead, I stepped outside to investigate my gardens.

I’ve been planting more and more native species around my house. Every year, I add milkweeds for the monarchs and spread the seeds of previously planted wildflowers. I eagerly examine the milkweed for monarch eggs, caterpillars and chrysalis. I have yet to see any this year, but I did make an incredible discovery.

Native ladybug larvae.

Ladybug larvae! They look nothing like the beloved round red roly-poly critters we all know and love!

I have never seen these before. They are shaped nothing like the red, round buggers with black spots. They are long, sort of bumpy, black or grey with symmetrical orange spots. If they are one of milkweed, the likelihood is that they are on every milkweed. My discovery made me very, very, very happy.

My yard is host to a variety of butterflies, moths, bees and birds, but some years, like 2023, I find very few. The year prior, 2022, I counted over 50 monarch butterflies and chrysalis. Then, a huge storm came through and decimated most of them. My heart hurt.

Ladybugs are beneficial to the plants and to butterflies. The ladybugs eat aphids, scale insects, larvae and eggs that might harm plants beneficial to butterflies, or that might infest caterpillars and cocoons. The ladybugs in my garden will definitely not starve! See all those little dots in the photo? That’s some of their food.

The stock I plant comes from nurseries and citizens who collect samples locally. The memory for growth through drought, drenching downpours, winds and tornadoes rests within the seeds and roots of these plants. My hope is that they will withstand the forces of nature and help provide food and structure for monarchs and other butterflies, birds, bees and beetles.

A monarch on a native bee balm in my garden

We didn’t need to seek cover in our tornado shelter yesterday but we were jolted awake around midnight by the NWS automated wind warning. We watched the news and listened to weather reports. The predicted 80-mph winds bypassed Norman. We are fortunate, but, as always, our thoughts are with those whose homes, businesses and lives were impacted by yesterday’s weather.

This ordinary girl hopes to remain as resilient and splendid as the fifty-and still counting native plants that thrive in her garden, regardless of the storms that pass by. I hope, through my gardening and writing, that I brighten at least one person’s day.

This is a photo of me after I spent an hour or so in my garden during the windy weather of May 6, 2024.
Categories
Literature

The Shortest Best Book List Ever and A Formal Review

This is the time of year when lists are made. Lists that record the 25, 50 and 100 best and worst moments of the previous year. Who really wants to revisit the most read digital stories of 2023 that include cataclysmic world-changing events, rich and famous people fighting, gun-toting children, wildfires, floods, and general mayhem?

I tend to gravitate towards lists that include the best movies and t.v. shows, such as this one from NPR. My favorite lists to peruse, however, are book lists from publishers such as the New Yorker. I like reading the titles and researching the authors but have become a picky reader in my curmudgeonly old age of 50-plus years. While reading about the creative talents and thrilling storylines, I find myself yearning to return to pieces of work that are familiar to me.

My own list of favorite books has not varied much over the years. In fact, my core list is comprised of 5 texts, a number much smaller than 50 and still counting. In no particular order, here is my must-read list:

Four out of five of my favorite books. The Princess Bride by William Goldman is missing. It’s in my house somewhere…

1. Siddhartha by Herman Hesse
2. I Heard the Owl Call My Name by Margaret Craven
3. The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder
4. The Princess Bride by William Goldman; and
5. Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel.

Every year, I re-read at least one of these books. This past year, I re-read Like Water for Chocolate during Hispanic Heritage Month 2023. I was just as pleased by its magical realism as I was the first time I picked it up. I can’t recall if I initially read it of my own volition or if it was an assignment for a college class. I do remember that I received Purple Hippo as a Christmas gift from my father around the same time I first read Like Water for Chocolate. I remember because being gifted Purple Hippo as a twenty-something year old college student was a bit unusual, sort of like some of the events in Like Water for Chocolate. Purple Hippo was with me when I read the novel the first time, and he was with me when I read it again this past October.

Purple Hippo reads Like Water for Chocolate with his friend Kermit the Frog

“Purple Hippo,” I said when I finished the first chapter for the twelfth time, “I should write a formal review of this book.”

And so I did. I hope you enjoy the review, which will be the first formal review of all the books on my timeless must-read list.

Aren’t you grateful to have a timeless and manageable book list?

By the way, the movie Like Water for Chocolate is one of my all-time favorite films. The same is true for the novel and movie The Princess Bride. This will be true for fifty years and counting (at least, for me!).

And now, it is time for the review.

Review
Reviewed Work: Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate: A Novel in Monthly Installments, with Recipes, Romances, and Home Remedies, translated by Carol Christensen and Thomas Christensen (Doubleday, 1992), 246 pp. ISBN 0-385-42016-1.

Review by: A. M. Cosgrove Wimberly
Literary Mama
571 words
September 26, 2023

Laura Esquivel is a Mexican novelist and screenplay writer. Her debut novel, Like Water for Chocolate: A Novel in Monthly Installments with Recipes, Romances, and Home Remedies, was published in 1989. Esquivel rewrote the novel as a screenplay and the movie, Like Water for Chocolate, released in 1993, received critical acclaim across the globe. A somewhat simple love story is at the heart of this novel, but the story encapsulates so much more than forbidden lust. The hyperbolic uses of light and dark, hot and cold, wet and dry make the impossible seem possible.

The first example of magical realism occurs in the introductory pages of the novel. Mama Elena’s tears flood the family farm home when she births Tita. Mama Elena births Tita on the kitchen table because she was preparing a meal with the family cook, Nacha. The source of Mama Elena’s tears stemmed from the birthing process and the chopped onions, which are known to make people cry. Nacha, who mopped the tears off the floors, collected “enough salt to fill a ten-pound sack.” Totally believable, right? In Esquivel’s novel, it is.

Even though the novel is full of impossible magical moments, Esquivel manages to realistically harness the setting, culture, and history of the story. Each chapter represents a month and begins with a traditional Mexican family recipe. The recipes indicate the de la Garza farm’s ability to sustain an entire community. Following custom, Tita, the youngest of Mama Elena’s daughters, is doomed to be her mother’s caretaker for life. As an infant, Tita is paired with Nacha in the kitchen and eventually succeeds Nacha as the family cook. The de la Garza homestead is in a small town in northern Mexico. The Mexican Revolution impacts the de la Garza family in expected and unexpected ways.

The theme of love and loss permeates the story and is the source of the magical realism moments. Tita loves Pedro, and Pedro loves Tita. Mama Elena forbids their marriage; Tita can only successfully serve one person, Mama Elena. Mama Elena offers her older daughter Rosaura as Pedro’s wife. Pedro agrees to the union to remain close to Tita. Even though his intentions are good, they compromise Tita’s well-being. Mama Elena punishes Tita every time the two lovers so much as look at one another. Tita’s ability to communicate is stripped from her, so she unwillingly and unknowingly does so through her cooking. Her emotions infuse her meals. The guests of the de la Garza farm leave the dinner table in frenzies of sadness, burning desires, lust, and love.

In addition to realistically portraying the setting, history, and culture of the novel, Esquivel exquisitely explores relationships. No relationship is simple, and all connect to Tita. Tita navigates her sister’s marriage to her lover, her mother’s vengeance, and Pedro’s pleas for pleasure. Tita’s position as caregiver extends to the animals and land that provide food for the meals she prepares, further connecting her to place, earth, and the universe. The natural world doesn’t allow Tita to react to the relationship stresses in her life. Therefore, when she catalyzes moments of magical realism, the results of her actions are emotionally impactful and believable.

Esquivel’s Like Water for Chocolate: A Novel in Monthly Installments with Recipes, Romances, and Home Remedies is a delightful read. Anyone interested in traditional cooking, Mexican history and heritage, family relationships, or romantic stories will enjoy this sweet and savory novel.

Categories
Family

Phew!

Phew! It’s been a minute…or more like months of minutes, which is well over 50 minutes, 50 hours, and 50 days, so I’m still on topic here with my blog, right?

I feel like at least 50 events have happened since I last posted in August 2023. I don’t know if I can list them all, but here are the highlights.

My daughter left our home in Oklahoma for the big city lights of Chicago. She’s a happy camper at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC). Her dorm room window looks out onto the Chicago Theatre and the Joffrey Academy of Dance, a view that I love and wish I could have here in Okla.

Chicago rooftops from my hotel room. Not nearly as glorious a view as the one from my daughter’s apartment, but still, very…colorful?

My son started high school (gulp!) and is navigating everything teenage boys have to navigate. New friendships, tougher classes, crowded hallways, school lunch food, etc. He’s still growing, too, and has been clothes shopping twice since school began in August. He’s taller than I am now!

I started a new job as an instructor at the University of Oklahoma Gaylord College of Journalism and Mass Communication. I enjoy the challenges of teaching good writing skills to great students who impress me with everything they do outside of school. I’m glad I don’t have to be a college-aged student anymore and appreciate everything I’ve learned in the years from then to now.

My husband, my dogs, my daughter’s pet rats, and my son’s leopard gecko are all about the same as before. It’s nice to recognize some stability, isn’t it?

Glacier, our leopard gecko, peeks out of a pocket.

I still enjoy bike rides and ventures into the garden. I ride Kermit (a.k.a. the Green Machine) to campus a couple days a week, and Heron and I roll miles across rural Oklahoma roads. My current gardening project is to kill as much Bermuda grass as possible this winter and build a healthy soil base early spring so that I can plant a zillion million native plants.

Some native wildflowers I planted in my front yard garden.

Stay tuned for more stories about Chicago (my new favorite city), parenting a high school boy, cycling, gardening, and writing. This girl never stops counting her opportunities and is eager to share more with you soon!

Categories
Family

Fifty-plus Banjos

My husband Mike is a fantastic self-taught musician. He first wooed me by performing Paul Simon’s Duncan. The next song Mike performed for me was Friend of the Devil by the Grateful Dead. Perhaps these are questionable selections to some, but I loved my sweet serenades.

The instruments my husband and children play

Mike’s love for guitars and guitar-like instruments is vast. He is able to share his abilities with our children, and has tried to teach me too. I appreciate music, but am much less inclined in terms of abilities than the rest of my family. You can see my little blue guitar hanging out at the end of the guitar rack. The artwork in the photo was created by my daughter, Alice, and given to Mike as a gift. If you like it, check out Alice’s instagram.

When we moved to Oklahoma, Mike made it a goal to visit the American Banjo Museum as soon as possible. Mike and I finally made it to the museum on a Saturday in July of this year, 2023. We moved to Oklahoma in 2018. You do the math.

We entered the air-conditioned museum with anticipation and relief. The outdoor temperature was near 100 degrees Fahrenheit. We were greeted kindly by the docent, who asked if either of us was 55 years or older.

“I am,” Mike answered. “Does that get me a discount?”

“Oh,” I said in shock, “if you’re 55, that means I’m 54.”

Which is a fact that shouldn’t surprise me. Two years ago, when I first started graduate school, I wrote a very clever personal essay titled “Graduate School at 52”, which I may update and include as a future post. I know how old I am, but I guess I never really think about it all that much.

Which is also a lie since I purposefully named this blog after my age.

So. Many. Banjos.

Anyway, back to the American Banjo Museum. So. Many. Banjos. Hundreds of banjos. Banjos dating from the 1840s to banjos made in the 2000s. My favorite, one that I didn’t take a photo of, was from the early 1900s. It is an open back banjo, made entirely of wood, except for the skin that was stretched tightly across the drum. I learned, in fact, that many banjos originated from drums. A neck with strings was added to the drum face, and the strings were tightened differently to produce different sounds.

Again, I am not the musically inclined family member, so my description leaves much to be desired. The good news is you can also have the goal of visiting the American Banjo Museum someday soon to properly learn the terms used to describe all things related to banjo making and banjo history.

The museum hosts musicians as well as the instruments. The monthly Celtic Jam was in session on the Saturday that Mike and I visited. The members of this particular jam included violinists, cellists, guitarists, players, banjoists players and ukelele-ists. (This is my blog – I get to make up words as I see fit).

An example of a banjo as art: A Bacon Blue Ribbon banjo from 1923 in the American Banjo Museum

Listening to the musicians while wandering through the exhibits that are pieces of artwork as much as they are instruments was truly a magical experience. Thinking of how many people played those instruments for crowds of one to crowds of thousands was amazing. Hundreds of thousands of people, which is a number much greater than fifty, were affected by the banjos that are housed in the American Banjo Museum.

I’m not certain that this story contains a lesson or great insight of any sort. All I can say is that this ordinary girl is more impressed with the beauty of the banjo than she was before. She also feels a tad bit younger, especially compared to her favorite banjo from the early 1900s.

As for Mike, he proved that he is truly a musician of all trades. Someday soon a banjo might end up on our guitar rack, replacing my little blue electronic guitar.

Mike strumming a banjo in The Learning Lounge at the American Banjo Museum
Categories
Literature

The Mysterious Variorum Chaucer

Bizzell Memorial Library at night

The Bizzell Memorial Library sits in the middle of the University of Oklahoma campus. The library is an expansive, five-story building that includes a reading room, tech-savvy spaces, and traditional columns of books punctuated by study tables and corrals.

My favorite place in the library is the Zarrow Family Graduate Student and Faculty Center. This lower level location is where I studied almost daily as a graduate student. The path I took through the library led me past a short hallway whose wall is adorned with a curious sign. The first line on the sign is “Variorum Chaucer.”

Variorum Chaucer sign in Bizzell Memorial Library

I took a Chaucer class as part of my graduate studies but never had time to investigate the meaning of the sign. I recently returned to the library to solve the mystery of what and where the Variorum Chaucer is.

First, I needed to define the word “variorum.” According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, a variorum is “an edition or text with notes by different persons.”

Next, I looked up the history of the Variorum Chaucer. The Variorum Chaucer was founded more than 50 years ago in 1967 by a scholar named Paul G. Ruggiers. Ruggiers’ goal, according to a 1984 interview with William Bedford Clark, was to bring several medieval researchers together to publish bodies of work that included all scholarly notes on Chaucer’s works.

Ruggiers predicted that 40 volumes would be needed to complete the series. Only 12 volumes were published between 1979 and 2002. Ruggiers acknowledged that each volume would take time and that he would die before all 40 were complete. Ruggiers passed away in 1998, at which time 8 of the 12 volumes were published.

Where did the sign for the Variorum Chaucer lead to in Bizzell? Would there be a room full of old manuscripts and notes? Would there be a scholar pouring over resources, creating their own compendium regarding Chaucer or his works? Who was carrying forward Ruggiers’s vision?

I followed the direction of the sign. The short hall ended with white double doors. I passed through the doors. I entered a tiled, nondescript hall. Uncertain of where to go next, I searched the walls and doors for additional signage. I found one that reads “Chaucer Variorum.” Assuming that “Variorum Chaucer” and “Chaucer Variorum” are the same, I continued on my journey.

Chaucer Variorum sign in Bizzell Memorial Library

I discovered an entrance! But the door was locked, and is an entrance to several offices.

First entrance to Variorum Chaucer in Bizzell Memorial Library

I walked around the corner. Old, tall dusty shelves filled the space. The shelves were full of old dusty books. I wouldn’t be surprised to find something spooky, like the Dueling Banjo Brothers from the movie Deliverance, here.

Near the dusty stacks, I found a second entry to the Variorum. My heart rate increased. My excitement was palpable. I practiced a few questions quietly that I planned to present to the graduate student or professor I hoped to encounter. Perhaps they would allow me to touch an ancient text full of Chaucer’s words or unroll a scroll with intricate scribal artwork.

Alas, all I found was a muntin window-paned locked door. I could see into the Variorum and out the window on the opposite wall. I could see desks, chairs, bookshelves, books, papers, and equipment that appeared untouched, possibly for years. My view through the paned door gave me the sense of a time capsule. It looked as if the inhabitants partially cleaned the space and walked out on the same day.

The other Variorum door

This basement room of Bizzell I stared into with wonder was the space Ruggiers acquired in 1982 or 1983, 16 years after he started the Variorum Chaucer.

This ordinary girl is curious to know what happened to all that knowledge of fifty-plus years. Is it worth salvaging? Do we need variorums in our modern-day society, where so much information can be gleamed within seconds from the internet? Is it still worth our time and energy to deep dive into the histories of words and worlds and storytelling? What happened to the director and other Variorum Chaucer employees who followed Ruggiers?

Sadly, I did not completely solve the mystery of the Variorum Chaucer. I discovered the location and history, but, like the heroine of a well-written novel, my greatest wishes were not granted. I didn’t meet a Chaucerian or touch a text covered with Chaucer’s words. I don’t know who is responsible for the space or the items that are left in it, but I do feel honored that I at least got a glimpse of it.

I did discover the work of Paul G. Ruggiers. His greatest accomplishment, perhaps, was founding the globally renowned New Chaucer Society, a world-wide organization for anyone interested in Chaucer.

Perhaps one day I’ll search the stacks of Bizzell for the 12 volumes published by the Variorum Chaucer. Hopefully, they’ll be above ground, in the main sections of the Bizzell Memorial Library, where I’ll have less of a chance of encountering the Dueling Banjo Brothers from Deliverance.

Categories
Literature

The Muppet Movie and The Canterbury Tales

What do The Muppet Movie and the Canterbury Tales have in common?

Thank you for asking! I’ve been comparing the two for a while now and am glad to have the opportunity to share my thoughts with you.

Kermit the Frog reads The Canterbury Tales

Let’s begin with the obvious.

Both stories are about a journey. In The Muppet Movie, Kermit the Frog journeys from the swamp to Hollywood. The pilgrims of the Canterbury Tales journey from Tabard Inn in Southwark to the Canterbury Cathedral in London.

Each story includes a huge cast of characters. The Muppet Movie features 24 main muppets, 8 background muppets, 10 human characters, and an additional 15 famous special guests for a grand total of 57 main-ish characters. The grand finale, a rousing rendition of The Rainbow Connection, includes over 100 human and muppet performers.

The Canterbury Tales features 30 pilgrims, including Harry Bailley, proprietor of the Tabard Inn. Harry proposes that each pilgrim share 2 stories on the journey from the Tabard Inn to Canterbury Cathedral, and 2 stories on the way back. The pilgrim who tells the best story will earn a meal and a night at his inn.

Kermit the Frog gains an entourage of muppets and humans as he treks across America from the swamp to Hollywood. He believes that every character has a talent that guarantees their success in Tinseltown.

The colorful characters of The Canterbury Tales and The Muppet Movie represent people from all walks of life. My favorite storyteller of The Canterbury Tales is the Wife of Bath, who is also known as the loathly lady. Kermit, of course, is my favorite muppet, which is a source of contention with Miss Piggy, who suffocatingly adores Kermit as well as herself.

But I digress. Just as Harry Bailley manages the pilgrims through their storytelling, Kermit leads his entourage through traps and turns that are mostly meant to ensare him for his scrawny frog legs. We never learn who earns the prize offered by Harry Bailley because Geoffrey Chaucer died before finishing his ambitious project of writing 120 stories. He managed to pen 24 colorful narratives that illustrate medieval lives. Kermit and his friends (spoiler alert) do reach Hollywood, but destroy the studio in which they are to record their performances.

The lesson from the pilgrims and the performers is to try. Just try to do something – tell a story, sing, dance. Hunt for frog legs. Whatever. Try something that will take you on a journey.

Anyway, that’s how this ordinary girls sums up these two stories.

The Canterbury Tales and The Muppet Movie are wonderful pieces of fiction that illustrate so many truths about friendships, human nature, and societal roles. If you have fifty-plus minutes (97 to be exact), use it to watch The Muppet Movie. If you have only 45 minutes, use it to listen to Ancient Literary Dude read the prologue to the Tales in Middle English, the language in which they were written. Both events will take you on your own mindful journey.

Categories
Cycling

Fifty Cycling Sights

I’m an ordinary girl who owns three bikes. A road bike, an around town bike, and a very fun to ride short cargo bike.My favorite of the three is my road bike who I named Heron. I also love riding the cargo bike, which has two names – the Green Machine and Kermit – because it’s green and who doesn’t love Kermit the Frog?

Kermit (my second favorite bike) and I at a music festival

Yes, just like pets and kids, I play favorites with my bikes. At any rate, what I really want to share are the fifty-plus scenes I’ve witnessed while cycling in and around this town called Norman, OK that I’ve lived in for almost five years.

Ready? Put your helmet on and let’s go for a ride. Watch out for:

A man walking in front of a new housing development wearing nothing but his tighty-whities; a pair of roadrunners; a family of armadillos; non-native deer; animal control and police cars lining the road where the non-native deer live (a bust in action – the deer and other exotic animals were found to be kept illegally and in poor condition); turtles, smashed and alive; a wood duck; longhorn cattle; a white horse giving birth; a scissor-tailed flycatcher that flew with me for about half a mile; some deer that ran alongside me for about a quarter of a mile; cars in ditches; a boy trying to skateboard on a long, gravel driveway; downed telephone lines; coyote; fox; and fifty-three million gazillion wildflowers covering roadside ditches and entire fields.

Okay, I know that counting the wildflowers is cheating but I can’t help it. They are absolutely gorgeous. Seeing red and yellow and orange and blue and purple burst out of the earth in unison makes me so ridiculously happy.

As does watching Kermit take a spin through the flowers on my favorite bike.

Kermit riding Heron through the flowers

To those of you who allowed fifty-three million gazillion wildflowers cover your fields and ditches, know that it made a very positive difference to this ordinary girl. To everyone, know that even though I say I favor Heron, I really do also love Kermit. He is, after all, the best muppet ever.

Aside from lovable, furry old Grover, of course.

Categories
Travel

Foiled by Tay-Tay

June 4, 2023 – a Sunday afternoon in Chicago

Ideally, this blog is a place where all things fifty-plus and fabulous will be discussed. Aging, job-hunting, parenting, dog-walking, beverage sampling. All good things, right?

This inaugural post discusses a major event that is affecting my life in a very immediate and adverse manner.

I asked when I booked the hotel room. “Why can’t I find a room for Friday and Saturday nights?”

“Taylor Swift” was the response. “She’s here Friday and Saturday. You should be good for Sunday.”

Now I know the phone attendant got it wrong. I didn’t think to check Tay-Tay’s schedule. I have troubles enough navigating myself. Like the time I woke the kids up early and drove them to school. No one else was there. I’d forgotten it was a holiday.

I probably cussed. My kids heard me cuss.

“Guess what?” I told them. “We’re going out for breakfast!”

Anyway, back to the hotel in Chicago. The hotel lobby is full of way more than 50 people. It’s more like a thousand, all waiting to check into their rooms, which is exactly what my daughter and I want to do. We decide to find a place to plug our computers in and work for a bit.

Taylor Swift fans checking into a Chicago hotel

Fifty-plus minutes later, there are still at least 50,000 people in line. We pack up our computers and books. We check our bags in with the valet. We step out onto the Chicago street and start our search for a pierogi dinner.

Hopefully, when we return, the 55,000 Swifties will be at the concert. My daughter and I will then be able to get into our room and rest.