A chorus of voices

As children, we learn a simple, flattened version of American history. The pilgrims and the Native Americans were buddies and ate corn on the cob together! Now put on this funny hat and make a googly-eyed turkey.

As we grow up, we hopefully learn that the story isn’t that straightforward (or cheerful). Instead, it’s a tale fraught with murder and plunder, political recklessness and social injustice. More often than not, history is the story of the strong taking advantage of the weak.

It’s especially troubling to learn that our ancestors could be—simultaneously—heroes AND villains, regardless of how they got here. Certainly, some were more villainous than others, especially when power and money were involved. But the more we study history, the harder it becomes to see everything as a clean struggle between good and evil. It’s more like sometimes-good vs. sometimes-evil, or good-at-this-moment vs. evil-at-this-moment.

This does not sit well with us. We like tidy narratives from a single perspective. They’re easier to listen to, easier to spin into an animated feature film. Stories told from a range of viewpoints, with overlapping motives and complex characters, are uncomfortable and difficult. They make us squirm.

As Thanksgiving approaches, I’m all for a little more squirming.

Let’s collectively take a harder look at our history, especially as we look with hope toward the future. Let’s not rest on one-dimensional narratives. Our history isn’t a Marvel movie. The “good guys” are, at times, hard to identify. Instead, we find ourselves in a shatteringly complex novel, reaching back over centuries, replete with a dazzling array of characters and competing perspectives.

Let’s be grateful, as Americans, for a difficult heritage. May it force us to be more gracious with one another. May we lean in and listen a little more closely to the multiplicity of voices who call this land home.

Excerpt from this week’s Story Matters

Two little American voices I’m thankful for.

What to do when we’re all monsters

Inspired by the horrors and paradoxes of our current cultural moment (and a Paris Review article by Claire Dederer), I wrote a short piece for Mockingbird: “Love the Art, Hate the Artist?

An excerpt:

When a politician misbehaves, it’s easy (in theory) to wave our hands and say, “Politicians! They’re all filthy.” But when our favorite novelist or comedian or musician misbehaves, we feel conflicted. We feel like we’ve been implicated ourselves. This is how I felt when I learned that Virginia Woolf, one of my all-time favorites, dressed in blackface to a party and was famously cruel and anti-Semitic. We want our artists to be as blameless as we think we are. Our beloved artists made something so good, so beautiful; shouldn’t the end product match the content of their souls?

This is the tricky thing about art: Great art can be created by terrible people.

Read more at Mockingbird.

In other news, we had a lovely Thanksgiving holiday with my family. Full of sincere, deep gratitude for these people (and pups)!

Thanksgiving 2017 Thanksgiving 2017

Thanksgiving 2017 Thanksgiving

More family times Thanksgiving 2017

On a quiet holiday season

Thanksgiving in the Pines

I still can’t read the news, because it makes me queasy, so it was nice to remove myself from a screen for a long weekend. We retreated for the Thanksgiving holiday to spend the time with Guion’s family, and it was very nice.

Thanksgiving in the Pines

One supreme benefit is Georgia. This is Georgia. She belongs to Guion’s parents, and she is probably the best dog who has ever lived. She really likes holding hands.

We enjoyed long conversations and memory-sharing at the dinner table; ate sumptuously; and took extensive warm-weather walks.

Thanksgiving in the Pines

(Guion also continues to be very good-looking.)

We are at peace, despite our increasingly doomed country. I let him get his first Christmas tree* of our marriage this year, and he is very happy about it. The morning after we put it up and decorated it, I found him sitting in the dark living room next to it, lights on, drinking his tea. I felt a surge of guilt for being such a Scrooge, for having crushed his childlike spirit for so many years. But we have it now. And Christmas joy permeates the house.

(*”Tree” is a grandiose term; the thing is barely 3 feet tall. My wifely generosity has limits.)

Thanksgiving in the Pines

Thanksgiving

There is a lot to be thankful for this year, even amid the sadness. I am so in love with my family and so full of gratitude for each of them. A few photos from our week at home.

Thanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in DavidsonThanksgiving in Davidson

Thankful for

Playing in the yard with the girls

Today, I am thankful for:

  • Guion
  • Gorgeous spring weather
  • Toiling in the earth alongside my helpmeet
  • Maddy, Sallie, and Tara
  • The fact that Rachel has kept up her blog; equally thankful for her gift of expression
  • This town
  • Dog-savvy people who bring their dogs to play with our psychopaths
  • Cherry trees in bloom
  • Everything in bloom, actually
  • Not going to the forum on the church and homosexuality so that I could have a long brunch instead
  • Hillary Rodham Clinton
  • Dirt under your fingernails
  • Our house
  • Books in translation and being able to trust that the translation is good
  • Dogs chewing on sticks
  • Open windows
  • Smelling like the earth after a long day working in the yard
  • Men who listen
  • The Wire
  • Annie Dillard
  • Family and friends who don’t ask me when I’m going to spawn a child and why I haven’t yet
  • Journaling again
  • Not having to moderate Facebook for the shepherd rescue anymore
  • Mom, Dad, Kelsey, and Alex coming to visit this weekend

Remember when Thanksgiving happened?

Just getting around to uploading these photos now, because, you know, moving.

We are a provocative and weird family.

Thanksgiving in Davidson

Thanksgiving in Davidson

Thanksgiving in Davidson
Whose idea was this? Why are we all on my parents’ bed? What demigod are Grace and Sam worshipping?

Thanksgiving in Davidson

Thanksgiving in Davidson

Thanksgiving in Davidson
Awkward Family Photos to the MAX!

Everyone stands around while Guion demonstrates the technicalities of the sorority squat.
Everyone stands around while Guion demonstrates the technicalities of the sorority squat.

Thanksgiving in Davidson
At least someone had a great manicure.

(Many thanks to beautiful Cousin Emily for many of these spectacular photos.)

Pyrrha wanted no part of any of it and was instead content to patrol my parents’ neighborhood from their bay of windows.

Thanksgiving in Davidson

We did have a lovely meal. It was so good to be with everyone. I really like these people that I happen to be related to.

IMG_4884

Thanksgiving 2013

We had a lovely holiday with my family this past weekend. It was nice to escape from the life/work/moving madness and vacation in Davidson for a few days.

I haven’t uploaded any pictures from my good camera yet, because my house is in utter disarray, but I’ll get around to it eventually. In the meantime, here are some Instagrams.

Edit: Grace has a sweet recap of happy moments from Thanksgiving Day, and her photos are, as always, much better than mine.

P knows what Thanksgiving is all about. #napping
Pyrrha does some hard-core napping.

100% bro. #grace #punksister
Grace is slowly turning into a teenage boy.

Shepherd on guard at her grandparents' house. #gsd #thanksgiving
P on guard.

Favorite people. #thanksgiving
Saturday night, post-feast meal: Potato chips, BBQ, and wine.

Hope you all had peaceful breaks!

Thanksgiving

Dusk in the neighborhood
Dusk in the neighborhood.

Tomorrow morning, Guion, Pyrrha, and I are setting off for Southern Pines for a long weekend with the Pratt family. I am looking forward to seeing everyone, taking long walks with Pyrrha and Windy around the neighborhood, and stuffing my face.

On the eve of this great American holiday, here is a preliminary list of things I am thankful for right now:

  1. Guion, everything that he is now and is becoming. And those blue eyes of his! Like an ice dragon! Have you looked at them lately? His eyes are a seriously unreal color, much like Jack Donaghy’s.
  2. Mom and Dad.
  3. Mike and Windy.
  4. Kelsey and Alex.
  5. Grace.
  6. Sam.
  7. Win (and Tracy, by extension).
  8. Pyrrha, our sweet and neurotic little baby.
  9. Our community in Charlottesville.
  10. Christ Episcopal Church.
  11. The women in my small group.
  12. A fenced-in backyard.
  13. Kind-hearted, attentive landlords.
  14. My job.
  15. My coworkers and bosses and the camaraderie we share.
  16. Louis, my new camera, inherited from Grace.
  17. The poetry of the Bible.
  18. The public library system.
  19. Used book sales.
  20. Ballet.
  21. Skype.
  22. Tea. Always and forever tea.
  23. All the dogs!
  24. Old friends.
  25. New friends.
  26. Maxi skirts and dresses.
  27. Makeup samples.
  28. Marcel Proust.
  29. The American Heritage Dictionary, 5th ed.
  30. The trees in Charlottesville in the fall.
  31. Marilynne Robinson.
  32. Our cars, that they run.
  33. Poetry.
  34. Sufjan Stevens.
  35. Japanese vocabulary that still comes back to me.
  36. Art museums.
  37. The Virginia Museum of Fine Art.
  38. The Atlantic Monthly.
  39. The New Yorker.
  40. Calligraphy.
  41. Pyrrha’s dog friends.
  42. Handwritten letters.
  43. Nettles.
  44. Joanna Newsom.
  45. Friends’ babies.
  46. America.
  47. Pyrrha’s ecstatic jumps in the air when I come home.
  48. Peace.
  49. Eyeglasses.
  50. Long walks around town.
  51. Enormous clouds of starlings.
  52. Virginia Woolf.
  53. Great restaurants.
  54. Brother Beer Works.
  55. Japanese ceramics.
  56. UNC-Chapel Hill.
  57. All of my beloved former English professors and even the journalism professors who scared me into a job.
  58. Boots.
  59. High-quality writing utensils (especially pens from Japan).
  60. Childhood memories.
  61. Horses.
  62. Letters from Aunt Lib.
  63. The Chicago Manual of Style.
  64. Soft leather leashes.
  65. Editing.
  66. Fonts.
  67. Vladimir Nabokov.
  68. The Eucharist.
  69. A community of artists.
  70. Little notebooks.
  71. Relay Foods.
  72. Ample storage space in our tiny hovel.
  73. Pie.
  74. Memories of the Compline service at the Chapel of the Cross.
  75. A new Trader Joe’s in town, even if the parking is apparently atrocious.
  76. Anton Chekhov.
  77. Tights.
  78. My beautiful rings, from Mary Windley.
  79. Cut flowers on the kitchen table.
  80. Homemade oatmeal.
  81. Journals, which I have kept for about 18 years now.
  82. Solitude.
  83. The Book of Common Prayer.
  84. A priest who loves William Faulkner.
  85. The view of the mountains as I drive home from work.
  86. Talking about film with Jonathan.
  87. Rabbits.
  88. American literature.
  89. Alphabetization.
  90. Sex.
  91. Grapefruit.
  92. A warm home in the winter.
  93. Forgiveness.
  94. The Virginian countryside.
  95. The person of Jesus.

We are saying thank you

Stairs Photography
Photo by: Flickr user dolfi.

Thanks
W.S. Merwin

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
smiling by the windows looking out
in our directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

We have been talking about gratitude lately. I read this poem at small group this past week and it made me feel hopeful and sad and focused all at the same time. I think it is a beautiful one. It always hits me right where I am.

I made a list of the 100+ best novels I have ever read. Feel free to voice your objections, opinions, etc.

Rose and Kemp are coming this weekend; we are expecting bouts of busyness and cold weather; apples to be picked, dogs to be walked, farmers markets to be visited. Have a good one, y’all!