Wednesday, February 5, 2020

How can I dismiss Travels in Siberia?

Probably I'm half through this long, long book. Why can't I quit it? It's only a 6,000 mile journey, or the equivalent of a lot of Iowa cornfields, or a lot of Utah salt flats, or a trip across the United States and back, nonstop, in a mad uncle's vintage Volkswagen camper, not restored. 

No, wait, we get to stop. Russia and Siberia are a trash dump. Now that I know that every mile so far traversed has population but no trash collection, I guess I can understand why industrial, agricultural and personal refuse is becoming the substrata of Russia. Let's just sit on junk and eat lunch or supper.

Page after page is packed with tidbits of Frazier's vast knowledge of Russian history, musings on the language, economics, politics, the exiles, the people, from prehistoric to the sister of a friend of a friend whose home they are in tonight.

I will plow on, in spite of the new stack of books that arrived yesterday and today. I'm afraid I may find myself reading Great Plains or On the Rez.



The batch of kiwi towels went on the shelf today, too:



I just wrote a mini review of The Gentlemen, that I saw this week with Cathy. I was expounding on the play within a play when I managed to delete the entire paragraph. No better place to stop.

Saturday, February 1, 2020

The Stack of Books



Wheels of Fortune, The Story of Rubber in Akron, Steve Love and David Giffels
The Odd Woman and the City, Vivian Gornick
The Old Ways, a Journey on Foot, Robert McFarlane
A Walk in the Woods, Bill Bryson
Negroland: A Memoir, Margo Jefferson
H is for Hawk, by Helen Macdonald
Travels in Siberia, Ian Frazier

When I moved into this unit last June, there was a lot to keep me busy, indoors and out. I had a loom and recorded books; who could ask for much more? I was listening to “The Salt Path”, by Raynor Winn. I was captivated, so captured by the book that at its end I backspaced to the beginning—four times. My wonder spilled over into the blog, so awkwardly I had to figure out how to attempt a review.

Everything about books now is also about brain injury. Someday I may lock myself in a room for a month and attempt an analysis of mine.

In the local paper I came across mention of “Wheels of Fortune”, edited in part by Dave Giffels. Anything Dave writes, is on my book shelf. He writes about Akron, our home town. I could say only “home town”, irrespective of its name or place, and anyone could make a place connection.

Then, NYT published a list of books to read before one died. Because my list "left me", I went through and made a list of books to buy, after “Wheels of Fortune”. The list also represents the order of the intended reading sequence, after all came in.

The sequence changed once, when my daughter asked for “Negroland”, and I was working on “The Odd Woman”, the second time. Beth was accumulating books to read with one foot in the air, following meniscus repair of her knee.

Every one of these books is about a journey. As is every book, you say. But, there is a physical journey in each book, as well as mental. Almost as if I picked right up from “The Salt Path”.

“The Odd Woman” is me, a solitary person, in fact, not by choice. It also is a memoir of a woman whose mornings are spent writing, afternoons and evenings spent walking the New York, threading transit passengers and footpaths of her city.

Two thirds through this book, Beth told me she couldn’t find what I saw in it. I didn’t tell her I read it twice, but  to pass it along, together with the other books I sent.

Then I read “Negroland”, Margo Jefferson’s memoir. Beth really wanted the book, so I only read it once. I didn’t “get it” until two thirds through, when the whole tone of the book purposely changed and the author made her point. I don’t know that it deserved a second reading; the first two thirds were tough to get through.

It is an autobiography of growing up in the fifties and sixties, in the black upper class. It was another childhood, during my childhood, and about characters I might have known in my own neighborhood. I knew white girls like the black girls in the book, but was not accepted by them. I knew black girls, not like the black girls in the book. The book, in the end, is about coming of age in this country at that time.

Next I picked up “The Old Ways”. I found the author’s pretentious presentation rather similar to Margo Jefferson’s childhood, and that condensed into the chapter I managed before I put “The Old Ways” into the stack of books for Beth. When she asked a reading order, I put it on the bottom, and indicated it might interest France.

Next, “A Walk in the Woods”. Bill Bryson is gearing himself to walk the Appalachian Trail, bottom to top. He pulled me into mental exertion of facing one’s unfilled goals and the physical exertion of attempts to execute. Bill decided he could use a companion, and could solicit only one, Steve Katz. He’d travelled Europe with Katz in college days, and remembered Katz nearly drove him nuts.

Nevertheless, they set off. Bryson remains seriously mentally engaged, and so does Katz, in his way. Several weeks into Virginia they split up; Katz to keep a summer job engagement and Bryson to hike on alone. Bill finds ‘alone’ seriously unfulfilling, and his wife gives him a lift home. After Katz’ summer job, the two meet up again. They decide they have hiked the best and the worst of the trail, and if they tackle the brutal end of it, ‘The Hundred Mile Wilderness’ in Maine, they could claim victory.

A life or death experience there in the Hundred Mile Wilderness cinches it. Katz is horrified, Bryson mentally crushed. With so many months, miles and experiences past their feet, they say the important is done. They tried.

And so I picked up “H is for Hawk” by Helen Macdonald. The book is exhausting, mentally and to the imagination. Macdonald purchases a goshawk, intending to train it, as she has trained many hawks in the past. She runs for miles across English hills, training the hawk, and coming to what peace she can with the unexpected death of her father. It is a book I will read again, but for now it is on the bookshelf.

And to the bottom of the pile, “Travels in Siberia” by Ian Frazier. I believe there are five or six hundred pages in this book. I have probably a hundred fifty down. I am finally settling into what this book is.  So far I've read about Russian and Siberian history; Frazier learning it and the language; then applying history and language in excursions to the country to experience what he read.

The book is not a tough slog if one does not bog down in the extensive history and languages of the countries that I do take as fact, being no expert. Several times I’ve felt I could doze away and am slapped awake by discussions of what he is seeing resembling Akron, Cleveland, Ohio during my and his childhood. He is a native of Hudson, Ohio.

My bookmark is left at Frazier’s meeting of the two guides who will accompany him across Siberia, in a rickety van. He does not like the first, and the second even less.

If I were to write about the books, it’s now or never. Who know when I will finish “Travels in Siberia”. The first time.


Wednesday, January 29, 2020

On the road again, with Ruth

A while back I took a load of books to my daughter, convalescing at her mother-in-law's house. Beth's biggest amusement that day was her mother and her mother-in-law syncing calendars, to arrange their annual days out.

Today was the Cleveland Botanical Gardens annual orchid display. Every year the display has a theme, and this year it was orchids of Vietnam. Ruth also has a date to go with Francis.

Orchids are pretty much orchids to me, so here is my pick of the best of today.



That jade tree behind the ribbon is descended from our brother, Melvin, and nurtured to mammoth size by my sister Janice. The last time we wrassled it out the front door to be repotted, I suggested to Jan it probably was the last trip through the front door and we should consider donating it to the Botanical Gardens. And we did.
I last saw it four years ago.

Then we started around. I have culled down to pictures of interest. 




Orchids, birds and butterflies were everywhere. Pass on the bananas, but the melon looks mighty fine.


Here the turtle is late to lunch. We quit waiting for him.


This is the avenue of fragrant orchids. Ruth tested them. Some did smell nice. My nose closed, half a dozen down.


Bromelid


Banana


A Christmas Cactus like I grew up with.



Then we went upstairs, and I fell prey to my best habit of people watching. In my next life, I will again have hair like the woman in black. Heck, I'll even settle for the woman in wellies.


When we stepped off the elevator and passed the young girl in black, I said to Ruth, "I had identical trousers in college," and Ruth said, "They are vintage! Did you see the little pleats at the waist?"

She was in the same spot when we left, so of course we told her our observations on her trousers. Her face lit up. "My mom will be so pleased. She gave them to me!" No, I did not reach over and stroke them. They were of that fine, light wool I've not seen since the sixties!


And finally, we looked at all the specialty orchids. This is the one we both picked to take home. Dendrobium something or the other.

Monday, January 27, 2020

Tools and towels

A couple of years ago my stocking had a funny gift. It's the oval, black doodad in the picture.


I was told its an illuminating magnifying glass, for reading the concert program in dim light, or for reading a menu in a posh restaurant. How funny. 

It hung out on my dresser until the last set of towels, when I could not associate the thread with the color patch. I went straight for the illuminating device. When I pull open at the oval, an led light comes on and superbly illuminates whatever is being magnified. Doing those things to a thread strand makes it very easy to mate the thread to a color swatch.

My next set of towels will be with that acid green. The last towels of the warp wooshed out of here so quickly I didn't mention they happened.  The purple are completely gone. In fact, here is the state of my inventory shelf:


Left to right, lime, cream, cerise, yellow-orange (melon, in my opinion), khaki, yellow and periwinkle.


At quitting time tonight, only three bouts remained to be tied on. I'm looking forward to that new green, which has a far nicer name than acid, I know. I'll look tomorrow.

Friday, January 24, 2020

A short story

There generally is a pie bird sitting in the frying pan on the back of my stove. It's a lovely pie bird, and I wish I knew more about it. I do know why it's special to me.



I leave the little frying pan on the stove because it's most generally used. I must use two hands to deal with the rest of my cast iron. This one, though heavy, is manageable, and big enough for whatever I am usually frying up.



Four years ago, when the big house sold, I moved to the trailer park with Laura and Blake (nee Emily). I had everything to start housekeeping except kitchen ware. I intended to go shopping at our local thrift store for a kitchen table, pots and pans.

My weaver friend, Linda, said I could scavenge the downstairs apartment of her house for whatever I needed. Her mother, Alberta, had lived there since the two of them moved from New York, but now Alberta was in Florida, with her youngest daughter.

Linda was exhibiting at Boston Mills, a local art show, the weekend we moved, and I called her several times to verify it was OK to take what I took, which included Linda's depression era enamel kitchen table that she and her roommates had used through college. 

Alberta left two little things I have always wished were mine. A little red glass bird, that now hangs in my kitchen window. And a pie bird! If I could have only one, it would be the pie bird. But Linda said, "Take them both!", and so I did.

Linda was staying with us at the old house, a block away, that weekend, and came over to see our arrangement of the little trailer. She was pleased with the arrangement of Alberta's kitchen and dining ware in the new trailer. A gift well placed.

As for the pie bird: it has E. B. Vena painted in precise letters on its front inside edge. When I google that, together with 'pie bird', I get back more pie birds, similarly decorated. I cannot get past that, so I know no more.