Appropriation

Familiarity. Memory of the way things get said. Once you have heard certain expressions, sentences, you almost never forget them. ~Eudora Welty

Last week I went to Stratford, Ontario for a few days, a small town that is known for its marvelous theater. Like most artistically based communities, Stratford is very tourist oriented with many lovely bed and breakfasts and unique restaurants. However, there is nothing tacky or commercial about the area - each shop is unique with an eclectic, interesting line of merchandise.

There are about 32,000 people who live in Stratford full-time, which means that the eclectic little shops and cafe's are part of their daily regimen.  This was quite evident when we went out for breakfast one morning at Features, a tiny breakfast cafe located on a busy corner. The place was filled with diners, knee to knee at the two and four top wooden tables. We were waiting in the foyer when an elderly gentleman walked in, his morning paper folded neatly and tucked under his arm.

"Hi Chappie," the hostess said, glancing toward the back of the cafe. "Your table is occupied right now, but the one behind it is open.  Do you want that one, or would you like to wait for your regular table?"

Without only a slight nod of his head and a gesture with the folded newspaper, the man indicated he would sit down. The hostess escorted him to his seat, and as she passed the kitchen counter called over "Chappie's sitting."

"Got it!" one of the line cooks acknowledged.  With those words, he knew to start Chappie's usual breakfast.

I was simply enchanted by the entire exchange. It's one of those conversations that sticks in your mind, sentences that "once heard, you almost never forget."  It has occurred to me more than once that there is a story somewhere in those sentences, in that episode in the diner.

The same thing happened a few weeks ago during the sermon at church. Our minister was talking about the phrase his wife used when their children were leaving the house. "Don't forget," she'd tell them each time, "I love you. God loves you. Remember where you come from."  The power and poignancy of those words stuck with me, and have become part of the opening paragraph for a short story about a middle-aged woman caring for her elderly mother.

Real life offers so many opportunities for inspiration if you observe and listen. Expressions and sentences heard in casual conversation can embed themselves in your memory and become perfect fodder for the imagination. Appropriate them, find ways to make them your own.

Have you overheard conversations that have later found their way into your imagination and writing? 

Remember Where You Come From

"Whenever any of us left the house, my mother always made us stop at the door where she would lay her hand on top of our head and deliver this benediction.  'God loves you. I love you. Remember where you come from.'"  from A Matter of Time Although my mother never said those exact words to me, they were implied in everything she taught me during my growing up years.  As I navigated the uneasy steps of first friendships, eased my way into the classroom, and finally took my place in the "real" world, I was always mindful of my  how much I was loved and how important I was to the family. I was also keenly aware of the expectations that were placed upon me.  Those expectations included concrete things like "work hard," "obey the rules," "do well in school," but also "be loyal to your family," "be kind to others" and "don't be selfish."  Those were the values my family lived by.  That was where I came from.

As I ponder becoming a grandmother and helping my grandson grow up in such a complex and fragmented world, I think about how important it is for children to know where they come from, how vital that they have a sense of belonging in their family, their culture, their neighborhood, their faith.

We teach that by example, like my parents did, by living the values you want them to internalize and emulate.  But it doesn't hurt to remind them so many words, either.  In the book (and in the movie) The Help, Aibilene makes it a point to repeat these words every morning to Mae Mobley, the little girl she cares for whose own mother virtually ignores her. "You a smart girl. You a kind girl, Mae Mobley."  In this simple, direct, and loving way, she reinforces the child's sense of self worth but also infers that these are desirable attributes and valuable characteristics. Her words become a poignant litany of love, much like the directive I quoted at the beginning of the post.

I definitely grew up with a sense of blessing - of being a blessing to the people in my family who loved and cherished me, and of having been blessed with good health and intelligence and the freedom to make the best use of my gifts.  Sometimes, even when parents genuinely feel all those things, they're incapable of expressing those emotions directly or indirectly and simply aren't successful at conveying that message to their children. Occasionally, there is a sense of disconnect between a parent and child, that, despite everyone's best efforts, prevents a child from developing that sense of belonging to something larger than himself. In times like those, a child needs to look outside the family unit to find that place he belongs. Sometimes it might be with a friend, or at school or church. Sometimes, sadly, they never find it at all, and wander through life rootless and insecure.

I know I was blessed to come from a place where family was held in high esteem, where happiness was eagerly sought after, where my dreams were acknowledged and honored, where the world was laid at my feet for the taking, where every effort was made to insure my safety and security.

That's the world I want to give my grandson. That's where I want him to come from.

The Name Game

Whenever I hear about a new baby, my first question is always "What's his/her name?"  Who cares about weight or length? What are you going to call the kid? That's what I want to know. So naturally I was very interested in what my son and daughter in law would choose for their baby's name, especially given that the child is half American, and half Asian. Would it be a Western name, or one that reflected his/her Eastern heritage? Last month, when the sonogram quite definitely revealed our grandchild's masculinity, the name game began in earnest.  My son revealed that their choice for a first name would reflect the baby's Irish heritage, and that his middle name would be Thai.

While there's a fair percentage of Irish blood in this baby's gene pool, I'm not entirely sure if it's enough to warrant a given name. My husband's ancestry is equal amounts English-Scottish-Irish, while mine is a total mish-mash of Celtic, Germanic, Native American, and Middle-Eastern. So with that combination, plus his pure Asian (Chinese-Thai) background, this little fellow is a huge melting pot of ethnicity  - in other words, he's a true American.

But I'm all for Irish names whatever your background.  After all, my own son has the most popular Irish name on all the lists - Brian, for Brian Boru, the first King of Ireland,  a mighty warrior.  The name "Brian" means "strong," and coupled with his middle name, James (which means "beloved"), we felt as if we blessed him with a good and appropriate combination.  My husband and I dithered a good bit with boys names before we settled on "Brian," but all our choices were very traditional - Daniel, Matthew, and Timothy were some of the other names in the running. Oddly enough, we had a baby girl's name all picked out before we were even married - Margaret Allison - to be called "Allison", with the "Margaret" being in honor of our piano teacher who introduced us to one another.

The Irish have a traditional pattern for naming their children - the first born son is named for the paternal father, the second for the maternal father, the third for the father, the fourth for the father's eldest brother, the fifth for the mother's eldest brother...and God help us if we ever get this far down the line.  The naming for girls follows the same pattern.  Most modern parents prefer to choose their own unique name for their offspring, and we weren't expecting our kids to follow tradition down to that letter.

Names get invested with a lot of emotion and promise.  Sometimes we name our children to remind us of people who have been important in our lives.  Other times we give them names that we hope they will live up to, or names that we feel might even protect them from harm.  In Judaism, a name is the "definition of an individual - a description of his personality and a definition of his traits." This culture believes there is a spiritual connection between the name of an individual and his soul. According to the Midrash (Tanchuma Ha'azinu 7): One should always be careful to choose for his child a name that denotes righteousness, for at times the name itself can be an influence for good or an influence for bad. The name given to a newborn child is eternal; it behooves one to evaluate the choice carefully."

Names can be sacred, but they can also be completely ill-advised - I know a man whose name is Richard Dick, and can only imagine the teasing he took at school.  And how about that race car driver named Dick Trickle?  Wouldn't you think with a last name like "Trickle" that you'd be extremely careful about your boy's first name?

There are no worries in that department in our family.  Our grandson's name is Connor, an honorable, strong sounding name, one that will serve him well for his entire life.  I've looked at various etymologies of the name, and most of them define it as "strong willed or "wise," both definitely denoting righteousness. It also means "lover of hounds," so there could be another dog lover coming into the family. Best of all, the symbolic name for Connor in Japanese Kanji characters is "vast" and "fortune."  

But the suspense regarding names is not over yet. Connor's middle name will be chosen by his grandmother in Thailand, based on their tradition of choosing from names which are associated with the day of the week on which a child is born. So we'll have to wait until November to find out how the name game ends.

How about you? Does your name have a special meaning for you or your family?

Along for the Ride

If you're at all prone to motion sickness, you've probably been suffering a bit the past few weeks, especially if you've invested in the stock market.  Just when it was starting to feel almost safe to go back in the water, the debt ceiling crisis created some really nasty economic waves that sent the markets careening all over the place once again. I'm not immune to feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach when I see headlines like "Dow's Worst Day Since 2009."  Even though we have a financial advisor we trust who has trained us to "Keep Calm and Carry On," I still occasionally feel the urge to initiate a panic sell off and keep the proceeds in a suitcase under the bed.

The volatility of the markets is scary, and I would never dare attempt to wade in without the expert guidance of a trained investment company.  I'm sure you could find a reputable online portfolio manager if you were at all inclined toward Do It Yourself portfolio management.  But when it comes to keeping my investments on the right track and in all the proper categories, I'm just much happier letting my financial advisor use her own portfolio rebalancing software than I would be trying to do it on my own.

I know my own strengths, and trying to make any sense out of the sea of confusion which characterizes today's economic environment just isn't one of them.

The First Day of School

This is the time of year for first day of school stories, and the intraweb is abounding with them.  Angie's eldest is just beginning his educational journey as a kindergartner, while Suzanne's youngest started his "last" first day this week as a high school senior. Several Facebook friends are sending their firstborns and their "babies" off to college, leaving them to contemplate their nests in various stages of emptiness. It all makes me a little nostalgic, even though I can't remember my son's school days with much fondness (nor does he, I'm sure). No matter how much I wanted him to love school as much as I once did,  it wasn't meant to be. From his first experience in nursery school when he walked  out of the classroom and down the hall intending to make his way home, to the last weeks of high school which he attended with gritted teeth and steely jawed determination to finish it with honor, school was an onerous obligation, an elephant on his back, a ball and chain around his ankle.

By the end of his senior year, I was just as overjoyed to say goodbye to his school days as he was. Because he had chosen a college program that was laser focused on his area of interest and allowed a great deal of independence, I felt confident he would be happier. Even though it took him far away from home, even though I knew he'd never be back here to live, I felt he had made a good decision.

The stories about little ones going off with their backpacks and lunch boxes make me smile, but they also make me cringe a little bit as well. School creates such a huge change in family life, with all its extra activities and homework and social commitments. Gone are the lazy nights reading stories, riding bikes, or playing games - I understand even five and six year olds are expected to complete an hour's worth of homework every night. And once children are in school, there are so many different factors that impact their emotional and physical well being, factors which parents can't always control - they can be bullied by classmates, misunderstood by teachers, exposed to viruses and hurt in playground accidents. Instinctively, I want to keep them little and carefree, away from the harsh realities of life that school sometimes entails.

Of course I know that's impossible and unwise. Last month, we watched a family of robins who had built a nest under the roof outside our family room window. Each day, the fledglings got larger and more vocal, until one evening their mother fed them dinner and then literally shoved them out of the nest, one by one. Within a few minutes, they were all gone, the whole family flown off into the world leaving their nest empty and forlorn. The human process, while much longer and more complicated, is just as vital and wrenching in some ways.  And, in our society, going to school is part of it.

Twelve years have gone by since I had to prepare anyone to go Back to School. In about  five years, I'll be thinking about my little grandson going off to school for the first time, and wondering whether it will be the start of a marvelous adventure for him like it was for me, or the beginning of 12 years of drudgery like it was for his father.

Let's hope the school gene skips a generation.

Wishing you and your children, whatever their ages or stages, a wonderful school year!