Holiday Tidbits

Dec 282022
 

The holidays aren’t what they used to be, at least not for me. Although I have a remarkable collection of friends, I am alone for all or a good portion of nearly every holiday I can think of and a few I can’t. Not like the family gatherings that took place during the season.

I used to be sad about that. No more. It’s not just that I’ve adapted. It’s become apparent that many of us get swept up trying to turn the season into a Hallmark moment, especially when children are involved. Yet there’s so much we can’t control: the cancelled flights, the crushing storm, the various viral diseases. All of these conspire to obliterate even the best laid plans.

I appreciate the effort to spread joy, share happiness, grab a piece of peace, and bask in the glow of lights—so many lights. I love the feel-good stories, the way that people have opened their hearts and homes to others who are stranded. I’d like people to be kind all year round and maybe they are, and we just aren’t hearing enough about that.

I feel fortunate this year, more than I have in some time. It’s about having not just necessities but also friends. Say what you will about social media, it has connected me to an amazing assortment of people who have provided me with a meaningful virtual community. Meanwhile, I have an IRL group. Seven of us got together for a Christmas Day that included a pop-up movie event at my house and coffee and chocolate at a hotel filled to capacity with families. We grabbed seats in a roped-off section of the lobby away from most of the mayhem and had a lovely time. Ho-ho-ho.

So now it’s nearly New Year’s Eve, another invented milestone. The beginning of a new year always marks an opportunity to express our wishes for an improved future, not to mention a chance to “do better.” For those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, it’s hard to make promises in the dead of winter when all we want are the gifts of more light, more heat, more color, less strife.

Still, markers exist for a reason. I’d like 2023 to be the year I design a custom-fit version of gratitude, one that feels less practiced and more present, less  saccharine and more mindful, less self-conscious and more aware.

I’d also like 2023 to be the year I become more tolerant. That will be harder. Because while I wish for peace with all my heart, while I support peacebuildig and conflict resolution organizations, while the idea of “reasonable discourse” sounds good in theory, I have become increasingly impatient with lies, personal attacks, false equivalencies, conspiracy theories, close mindedness, and all-out hatred.

I hate hate. I hate how well it serves the people who would manipulate and the people willing to be manipulated. I hate that intolerance is a cornerstone of entire movements that pretend to be about taking something back when really they’re about keeping someone else down. I hate the corrosive nature of hatred, a violent state of mind in which the end-game is some sort of wholesale elimination or domination.

How does one support peace with a less than hate-free heart? I don’t know. I guess my other goal for the new year  is to create a custom-fit version of tolerance that doesn’t put up with intolerance.

I have my work cut out for me.

This Time This Year

Sep 272022
 

©WholesomeNsuchArt

Autumn used to be my favorite time of year. Notwithstanding what lay ahead—the abundant snowfall, lack of light and bitter cold that were and perhaps still are a feature of Wisconsin winters—I welcomed the restart September implied. Some of my hopeful mood had to do with the start of a new school year, some with the meaning of the season to my parents, casual followers of Judaism whose children eventually failed to connect. Most of it had to do with the sights, sounds, and smells of the season. Rustling leaves, brilliant colors from gold to umber. All things apple and most things pumpkin (except coffee). The light is different, too, diffuse, filtered.

But the loss of my husband on September 11 made it hard to enter autumn. Then my sister died some years later, on November 30th. Grief now bracketed the season. Autumn was as many others had always seen it—a time of endings.

Flash forward to 2022. At the end of one of the worst late spring/early summers in memory (yes, even worse than the height of the pandemic), I ought to be “over” this next season. I’m not. For one thing, I live in the Northeast and autumn is our time to shine. While the south battles excessive heat and terrifying storms and the west deals with the threat of wildfires, we have been favored with blue skies, changing leaves, and perfect temperatures. Given how hot it was this summer, I wasn’t even sure we’d have any beautiful fall days. This year, at least, we do.

I eat, dress and exercise differently in the fall. My favorite outfit is jeans, a sweater, and a jacket. My boots, my sneakers, my hiking shoes give me far more joy than sandals ever could. I’ve been on my bike for the first time since before the surgery. My refrigerator is stocked with apple cider, my shelves with canned pumpkin. I’ve got toe warmers and snuggly socks and a comforter I love on the bed.

According to everything any of us will ever read, I am in the “autumn” of my life. Maybe that fact, along with my body’s refusal to stave off time, ought to depress me. Some days it does. Other days, I hop on the bike or take a walk in the neighborhood, breathing in air that is neither humid or hazy. I can make plans; everyone has plans in the fall. I can also plan not to make plans and curl up in front of the fireplace to read or watch TV.

Autumn used to be my favorite time of year. It will be again.

Apple Watches Over Me

Aug 022022
 

How’s your summer been? Bumpy, right? Between inflation, residual COVID, tangled travel plans thanks to an overwhelmed airline industry, a cruel war that drags on, and crippling heat, it hasn’t been all fun and games. The mood is as heavy as the air.

I get it. I was coping with shoulder surgery on one side, a broken wrist on the other, and a dog whose health was rapidly declining back in May. Between one thing and another, my already thin social life was reduced to few encounters unless they were sparked by an Instacart delivery.

Then I bought an Apple Watch.

I know; it’s a watch with a lot of stuff I don’t need. Although having a phone you don’t have to remember to take because it’s already strapped to your wrist is pretty cool. Now I just have to remember to put in my earbuds so I’m not talking to my wrist or straining to hear the voice at the other end.

For the most part, the watch mimics the phone, even if you’re not carrying the phone. I like seeing the time, the date and the weather right up front. If you’re using your iPhone to navigate, the watch will display the map as well. Not only that, when SIRI tells you to, say, take a right, the watch will make the sound of a turn signal. The first time I heard that, I laughed out loud.

It’s very freeing to be able to walk and keep my hands by my side, swing them freely, or furtively check my inbox for messages, which it reports with a discreet ding that doesn’t sound like marimbas or chimes.

I can’t take pictures, although I have no doubt that’s coming. Anyone remember when that level of gadgetry was only available to a member of the CIA or MI6?

While I recover from various surgeries and injuries, a fitness program suitable for a twenty-something may not be appropriate. That’s why I didn’t sign up for Apple Fitness. However, I did set up a basic health profile and some modest goals, including a lot of walking. Inside of nagging me, the watch cheers me on with, exhorting me to “keep it going” or applauding me for meeting or exceeding my target number of steps or minutes or calories or what have you. It reminds me to rise out of my chair, a task I’d previously relegated to an hourglass I kept at my desk until I accidentally broke it one day.

My watch urges me to reflect at the beginning and end of the day. It’s big on deep breathing. I’m offered a light show, but honestly, I find the color choices a bit unnerving. I’d prefer to close my eyes.

Somehow the Apple Watch acts as guru, guide, motivator, and minder. Yes, it’s a tool and a toy. Okay, it’s collecting and using a lot of data about me and my preferences. No, it can’t replace my human buddies. It’s simply a nice addition.

Excuse me, I’m told I need to stand now.

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