style and grace

I’ve simultaneously caught up on all three seasons of Downton Abbey, and have almost finished my latest book, Coming Home by Rosamunde Pilcher, both taking me back to life in Britain during WWI and WWII respectively.   In each family saga, listening to or reading delightfully sophisticated, and often witty conversations, have contrasted glaringly with most American offerings.  And  in my humble opinion, it’s not a positive comparison.  The appeal, not just for me, but to millions of viewers and readers, is that we’re transported to an era where honor, style, grace, and class, live.  I love reading that something was “perfectly ghastly” instead of “sucks”.  I’d rather hear that that someone may “put people’s noses out of joint” instead of “piss them off.”   I know I am exaggerating a bit, since I mostly hear this language from the teenagers in my own house, but I wonder what’s happened to our ability to be articulate and well-spoken?  Not to mention how casual we have all become, with everything.  From what we wear, to how we communicate, how we entertain, and even our commitments to people, work, and our communities.    In our eagerness for progress, do you think we’ve lost something of ourselves?   I especially enjoy British and Scottish authors who write of the past, for with them, there is no ugly American slang, and the English language is preserved with clear, splendid descriptions that immediately bring vivid images to mind.   The historic events and sacrifices during both World Wars, show us people who were selfless, courageous, and came together for a greater good.  It was unthinkable for anyone to shirk their duty.  People seemed to hold themselves to a higher standard, with a sense of propriety, dignity and consideration for others.  That’s grace.  But today, as a society, we seem to want novels or reality TV that denigrate, shock, and humiliate.  Why?  And Hollywood often produces films that assault our senses with pointless violence and graphic details.  What happened to intrigue, romance and finesse?

A little side note:  speaking of sacrifice, I am in the process of chronicling my parents’ journey from Czech Republic to the United States after WWII.   I’ve always known their stories about escaping Communist rule for the freedom of America, but never captured the details, so I could record their legacy for my children.  I still can’t comprehend what it would be like leaving absolutely everything behind, and starting your life over with nothing, in a new country, not once but several times.  I know this is an important memoir to preserve.

So back to my topic.  The last page of Southern Living magazine (another favorite of mine) is called Southern Journal, and is currently written by Pulitzer prize-winning writer and author, Rick Bragg.  Recently his piece was titled, Born Too Late.  He begins, “Captivated by a time before my time, I increasingly find myself most at home in the presence of the past”.   He writes about how he used to love listening to music that didn’t make you want to smash the radio; how he used to love watching TV with only three channels because there was always something good on, but now he “flips through banality till his thumb is sore”.  He states that “sometimes it seems I do not like anything anymore. I do not like outsourcing, or multitasking, or fusion restaurants.”   My mother said this article could have been written about her, since she is a creature of grace and formality and culture.  Lately I think I also do not like how our society is “progressing” and wish we kept more of the values of our parents’ and grandparents’ generation.  I’m not particularly old-fashioned, but feel a terrible sadness for this period in time that often seems callous and crass.   Please don’t get me wrong…there are so many kind and generous people in my life and in the world, so I don’t mean to proclaim doom and gloom.  But I do believe it will require greater strength and determination from today’s parents to ensure their children become adults with character and integrity.

young talent

Last Sunday I was again reminded, for the millionth time, that I am not actually Wonder Woman nor Super Mom, and no, I can’t do it all.  I missed my weekly blog post deadline (self-imposed, but nevertheless) because a couple of months ago I had been asked to organize a parenting group at our church.  Don’t laugh out loud…I absolutely do not have this thing called parenting figured out, and doubt I ever will.  I know it’s a lifetime lesson.  I truly think it’s the most humbling experience one will ever know.    Mind you, I am not doing this alone, and co-lead with a delightful couple.  The concept is to get together once a month with like-minded parents of teens who want a safe, trusting place to share ideas, listen to lectures/experts, and generally discuss how to decipher a teenager.   So I definitely don’t need to have the answers, thank goodness!   This happens on the second Sunday evening of the month.  I’ve realized I simply can’t do both that Sunday…prepare content and host the parent gathering, and write for my blog.  Yes, I should be able to write earlier in the week, but working full-time and managing our household activities/duties/kids/husband, honestly just leaves me plumb tuckered out at night.  So I won’t be posting on the second Sunday of the month, because both Sunday undertakings are just as important to me.  And rather than do either one badly, I must miss my blog that day.   Yet another lesson learned on this venture.  My apologies for taking decades to figure out that I may never be the perfect woman, wife, mother, or friend, but I hope to be a good one.

On to the main subject of this post:  young talent.  I wanted to have a page dedicated to showcasing the young people we know who have a growing, visible talent in writing and art.  To give them a place to reveal their gifts, their voice, ideas and creativity.  For they will not only influence our future, they will define it.  I hadn’t placed anything on that page yet, but have accumulated some content now, as a beginning.  My oldest son, age 15, always has a sketch pad near him, and has been drawing since he was quite small.  Some of his creations are not like anything you’ve seen before, and I am frequently reminded of a biography we watched about George Lucas, who reportedly spent most college evenings drawing instead of going out with friends.  His fantastical drawings and characters came to life in a then risky and daring film project called Star Wars.    After the boys and I saw The Life of Pi — if you haven’t seen this magical movie yet, put it on your list! — my son came home and spent the next three days drawing the tiger.  It’s below, plus another, and I’ve shared a few more of his sketches on the young talent page.  You never know, they may reappear one day in a video game or illustration!

In the writing category, my niece has also been such a good little writer for most of her 13 years.  From the loving cards and letters she continues to compose for her parents and grandparents, to her school writing assignments that are quite beyond her years, they are all impressive.   It’s evident she has that unique ability to write from her heart.  In school last week, the students had to write a paragraph about something bad that happened over their winter break.  But the family had been on vacation in Costa Rica and it was wonderful, so she wrote about something kind of funny-crazy instead.  It’s so sweet and well-written for a short piece, and it’s on the young talent page as well.   Definitely much more to come from her!

I’d also like to feature any creative bits from your kids or relatives or friends.  So let me know, since I intend to post more from our young people, and provide an avenue to share their talent.  We don’t know where their own journey will take them, but we can help them spread their wings.  “There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it’s going to be a butterfly.”   ~R. Buckminster Fuller

a time for everything

As I took down our Christmas tree today, a task that always makes me a bit melancholy, I thought back on all the things I had eagerly anticipated we’d do during the boys’ two week winter break.   It seemed like such a nice long time to do so much, and I had scheduled vacation days around both holidays to maximize my time off.  Each day I’d usually ask what we should do today, and never got much of an answer.  Typical teenage boys.   As time went by, I worried that they wouldn’t think their break had been much fun;  that they didn’t do anything.   Then I came across this little phrase – there’s a time for everything – and I realized that this was a time for letting go.  I no longer needed to orchestrate and organize the boys’ days because they weren’t little boys, and hadn’t been for quite a while.  I’m a classic Type A, who feels best when I plan ahead, know what’s going to happen, and am in control of things for the most part.  But this winter break didn’t go that way.  It actually just flowed quietly along like a lazy, winding river.  And guess what?  Looking back, it went just the way everyone wanted it to.

I think ‘letting go’ started with trying, and finally abandoning, getting lights on our now 25 foot pine tree in the front yard.  Sure I had the long pole with a coat-hanger hook on the end just like last year, but it had grown even taller and we couldn’t seem to manage it this year.  I bought and returned other types of lights, from big snowflakes to colored globes, because they just didn’t look right.  So heaving a frustrated sigh, I reluctantly agreed with my husband that this year we’d simply do the house, shrubs and little potted arborvitae  (after all, we  had the chubby inflatable penguin too).   Driving up at night several days later, I decided that it was absolutely fine.  The house still looked just as festive.

As for what we did?  Not much by most people’s standards.  The boys saw a few of their best friends a couple of times, played video and computer games (undoubtedly too much), went to the movies (once with friends, once with mom, and once with dad…what a good mix that was), skied, and slept in.   We had brunch everyday instead of breakfast.   My husband was in the garage most days, happily toiling away at his hobby, restoring classic Porsches.  And me?  I read three books, hosted the family for dinners on Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day (minus my sis and family who went to celebrate New Year’s in the warmer climes of Costa Rica), including our favorite desserts:  Bûche de Noël, aka Yule Log  (complete  with marzipan mushrooms and forest animals that my son made!) and Crème Brûlée.   I decided on a new theme, or “tablescape” for this Christmas, and everyone admired it as much as I enjoyed creating it.   Both are pictured below.  I watched the entire first season of Downton Abbey, into the wee hours of some late nights.  I spent time with my family and a couple of friends;  skied and slept in just a little when the cats let me.  And I loved it all.

In the end, though we didn’t do everything I had imagined two weeks ago, everyone spent their time to great personal satisfaction.   Like that agreeably satisfied feeling you get when you turn the last page of a really good book, or lean comfortably back in your chair after a delicious meal, or wipe away that almost invisible tear at the end of a poignant film, or the look back at a bump run you just skied pretty darn well for your age, or giving the perfect gift, or bringing joy to someone in some small way.   We were left in that warm afterglow of time well spent, doing things that suited everyone, by their own definition.   Looking ahead, I know my role is to let my boys continue to make their own decisions, good or bad, and let go more and more  (though there will always be rules and consequences!)   There truly is a time for everything, not necessarily as I think, but what they do.  And I know that will continue to change our lives.  For this year at least, our time during the holidays suited us all brilliantly.