Wednesday, September 25, 2019

Too busy to write, but not too busy to read

As much time as I spend working and running stupid errands and taking naps and walking the dog, I still have time to read. As much as possible. Last Saturday I was at Jenn's in Guerneville and I had committed the entire morning to read a small book my friend Tom recommended: "The Order of the Day" by a French writer, Eric Vuillard.  It is a small book in size but a large book in stature. If I tell you a bit about it, you have to promise not to yawn and think it is boring. It is anything but boring. I read it straight through, in one 3 hour sitting.

In 1933 several leaders of commerce in Germany are called to a meeting in the country and asked to fund a new type of government by an unknown political wannabe.  These leaders pony up millions of dollars so that their pockets can be heavy with financial gain and so that this new leader, Hitler, can create and expand his Nazi party.

A few years later Austria is taken over by the Nazi party, the country's government replaced by Nazi officials. Greed wins out and for the moment, those leaders of commerce win. It is the beginning of Hitler's Third Reich. 

It is a remarkable book in its scope of history but even more remarkable in its beautiful narration of an ugly, brutal, atrocity that was the Nazi government. The insidiousness of that government's lies and deceit are presented in such a way that makes you keep reading, almost making you, the reader, uncertain of the outcome. As odd as that sounds, because we all know how that story ends, the writing is so compelling that it's like reading a mystery:  "how is this going to end?"

One can draw parallels to our current political climate but I am not going to walk down that path right now. Do yourself a favor, find this book, read it and understand that the history of 85 years ago is not that much removed from the history of this moment.  Different clothes, different names, same madness.

Image result for the order of the day

.

Thursday, September 5, 2019

Past, Present, Future and Dying

It's age, I suppose, the enigma that forces you to take stock of the past, to dwell on the present and try and outwit the future. Whatever it is, it is powerful. And disturbing and hopeful and depressing and so much more, all at once. There is nothing new about this thought process, nothing new at all, but still, it creeps up on you and pounces, scraping at your heart and soul like a tiger hungry for fame.

A colleague of mine, an amazing young woman, mid 20's, was very seriously injured in a car crash on Monday morning on her way to work. While I hate to admit it, we don't always look at life too closely until some tragedy occurs and then we think "What if?" and "What now?" and so many more "whats and hows and whys."  We should be looking at life a lot more closely ALL THE TIME.  Fucking shit happens and we are NEVER prepared for it, but of course, no one can be prepared for all the fucking shit that happens, especially the accidental variety, but still. We should be thinking about life and love and loss and everything else a lot more often than we actually do.


Even if there were no car accidents, no surprising deaths, no trips to the vet, to the ER, to the police station, to a lawyer's office, to the confessional, even if one's life seemed benign and happy, there is no logical reason to believe those accidents, deaths, vet bills, cop statements, excuses to the priest aren't going to happen and take their toll. They are going to happen. Get ready. Complacency is a menace. 


My Mom would have been 99 years old this year, last month to be exact.  My daughter is 46 years old, my son is 42. I am 69 years old. These are numbers that are not insignificant.  That hooded guy in the black robe with the scythe is waiting in the wings for all of us. While I no longer need to worry about my Mom, thank goodness, I continue to worry about my kids. And my siblings and my friends, my dog, everyone's dogs, everyone's safety and health. 


I say all of this not to be a doomsayer. Not to be the portent of gloom or doom. I say all of this out loud because life is so precarious and precious**, so whimsical and so dangerous that we all need to be aware of that whimsy and danger and love each minute of grace and safety that we occasionally enjoy while, at the same time, be aware of its fleeting existence. In other words, let's all be more grateful and more present and let's all reach out with kindness more often than we do now and let's all acknowledge, even to oneself, that everything we have and love can be shut down in one instant. And therefore appreciate everything we have and love even more.


I love you all. Be careful out there.


xo


** how interesting that those two words, precarious and precious are exactly the same except for that "ar" in the middle. Hmmm.....


.