I love the long blocked-out writing time on the weekends. It has to be kept sacred. One doesn't really tune into the muse when writing a cookbook as one does when writing a novel, but it's satisfying to make the connections between food and where I was at particular points in my life when I started cooking some of my favorites. I discovered quiche at a Christmas Party in 1978 and when Paul and I moved to Pittsburgh and someone bought me the Vegetarian Epicure, quiche became the center of many meals, including those when company came to share our table. I took a
picture of the broccoli and mushroom quiche I made for dinner the other day, for the cookbook.
Cuyahoga River
Cuyahoga River in the Valley
Showing posts with label Memoir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memoir. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Monday, January 17, 2011
Living Each Day as a Prayer
Energy and enchantment have been my mantra over the last few weeks as I’ve improved my home to be more of a retreat, planned out my year of writing and retreats, and thought about how I want to spend vacation this year. I find myself seeking repose, and I did so with three books, two by local authors Sarah Willis and Thrity Umrigar (Some Things That Stay and The Weight of Heaven) and the other by Elizabeth Gilbert: Eat Pray Love. My spirit feels renewed in all aspects of my life, including my legal work, which can be creative as well.
Day by day, I look for ways to improve how I live and work. I refresh with walks, yoga, meditation, and worship, and I feel God residing within me and guiding my quest. At last year’s Artist’s Way Retreat with Wendy Fedan, I bought a Tibetan bowl that makes the sound of the ancient “Om,” and I committed to living each day as a prayer. I hold onto that as much as I can, but like in meditation, I lose focus and come back to it and I try not to judge my indiscretions.
Day by day, I look for ways to improve how I live and work. I refresh with walks, yoga, meditation, and worship, and I feel God residing within me and guiding my quest. At last year’s Artist’s Way Retreat with Wendy Fedan, I bought a Tibetan bowl that makes the sound of the ancient “Om,” and I committed to living each day as a prayer. I hold onto that as much as I can, but like in meditation, I lose focus and come back to it and I try not to judge my indiscretions.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
I Remember Paris
Tatiana de Rosnay's Sarah’s Key was tragic and redemptive. Set in WWII Paris and in modern-day Paris, de Rosnay wove the tales of two women, a young Jewish girl who innocently locked her brother in the closet on the day of the 1942 roundup and a middle-aged woman married to an insensitive Frenchman. The stories are told in alternating short chapters--hats off to de Rosnay for seamless stories told in alternating chapters. I liked the intrigue of a modern-day ex-patriot in Paris trying to find the woman whose brother was locked in a closet and who escaped the death camp amidst Parisians' denial that the arrests of 1942 took place. Both women were triumphant and found redemption.
I read the novel on the heels of reading Julia Child's memoir My Life in Paris. I enjoyed experiencing Child's experiments with recipes in her apartment on the Left Bank and the trials and tribulations of collaboration, publishing, and television production. Unfortunately, I read the book after seeing the movie Julie and Julia, which portrayed Child as insensitive. Apparently the way Julia treated Julie in the movie was a fabrication. The movie was unkind to Julia Child.
I haven't been to Paris in seven years. Its energy and verve came back to me because I recognized many of the sites in these books. I was strolling the shady Tuileries, the streets bustling with restaurants, and the Left Bank where artists line up to sell their paintings with the Seine below them. I remember eating escargot while watching Notre Dame become a beacon in the darkening sky. These books highlight the tendency of Parisians to ignore the unpleasant and their fervent love for their city and their food.
I read the novel on the heels of reading Julia Child's memoir My Life in Paris. I enjoyed experiencing Child's experiments with recipes in her apartment on the Left Bank and the trials and tribulations of collaboration, publishing, and television production. Unfortunately, I read the book after seeing the movie Julie and Julia, which portrayed Child as insensitive. Apparently the way Julia treated Julie in the movie was a fabrication. The movie was unkind to Julia Child.
I haven't been to Paris in seven years. Its energy and verve came back to me because I recognized many of the sites in these books. I was strolling the shady Tuileries, the streets bustling with restaurants, and the Left Bank where artists line up to sell their paintings with the Seine below them. I remember eating escargot while watching Notre Dame become a beacon in the darkening sky. These books highlight the tendency of Parisians to ignore the unpleasant and their fervent love for their city and their food.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
WANDERLUST!
I lust after wandering around in new places. I’d long been intrigued by the monthly Loganberry Books newsletters and wanted to explore it and write about the experience, so I headed over to find Larchmere Boulevard in Shaker Heights. I found Harriett Logan’s spunky space possesses an old-fashioned literary quirkiness that is a welcome respite for book lovers. I kept saying “wow!” because the bookstore is as comfortable as a library in an old manse and the sheer number of used and rare books in the nooks and crannies and filling the floor-to-ceiling shelves is intoxicating. Loganberry Books is much more than a bookstore.
Since I was on a rare visit to the East Side (and yes, western Cuyahoga County has many wonderful restaurants and shops and cool places to explore), I couldn’t be stopped. My wanderlust is not just about new places, but about experiencing places. My car took me to Coventry, which awaited me with Mac’s Back Books and its aging posters announcing poetry readings and events; I wondered where the head shops with incense and paraphernalia ended up—do we now have to go to Bangkok? Then I wandered over to Little Italy where I heard Frank Sinatra crooning the entire time I was on Mayfield Road, and with Presti’s open and still selling cannoli, I was glad some things remain.
Driving down Chester towards Cleveland’s downtown skyline and on over the Cuyahoga River, I was disappointed to be going home. The experience was similar to what I felt when I left Rome to go to Venice, yet knew Venice would be just as good. There’s always another place to explore, even if it’s in my own backyard. My wanderlust is not easily quenched.
Since I was on a rare visit to the East Side (and yes, western Cuyahoga County has many wonderful restaurants and shops and cool places to explore), I couldn’t be stopped. My wanderlust is not just about new places, but about experiencing places. My car took me to Coventry, which awaited me with Mac’s Back Books and its aging posters announcing poetry readings and events; I wondered where the head shops with incense and paraphernalia ended up—do we now have to go to Bangkok? Then I wandered over to Little Italy where I heard Frank Sinatra crooning the entire time I was on Mayfield Road, and with Presti’s open and still selling cannoli, I was glad some things remain.
Driving down Chester towards Cleveland’s downtown skyline and on over the Cuyahoga River, I was disappointed to be going home. The experience was similar to what I felt when I left Rome to go to Venice, yet knew Venice would be just as good. There’s always another place to explore, even if it’s in my own backyard. My wanderlust is not easily quenched.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Our Book Group Predicts Movies
My friend Gayle just presented our decades-old book group with a list of books we read that became movies. Our ability to choose movie-worthy books is uncanny. I will not be surprised if our most recent choice--Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen--appears on a movie screen. It has all the right elements--intrigue, romance, and a colorful setting.
People ask me "Which one was better, the book or the movie?" Sometimes the two can't be compared--the resemblance of the Wicked musical to the book was the difference between immersed entertainment and worrisome effort. The Harry Potter movies liven the books with great acting, scenery, and special effects, and although I'm surprised when the way I imagined scenes or characters differs from those of the director, I love the movies. The Other Boleyn Girl, The Horse Whisperer, and Under the Tuscan Sun were relatively dissembled when put into the film medium, and although the authors became richer by ticket sales, the transformation of their words onto the screen weakened their good work. The love stories told in The Notebook and The Bridges of Madison County became richer under the glow of photography and attractive actors; contrary to popular opinion, those books, as well as Tuesdays with Morrie, are marginally well-written.
Approximately thirty of the books we've read for book group have been made into movies. I haven't figured out if we pick good books or popular books or the books we choose just lend themselves well to film. Books like Snow Falling on Cedars and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil are chosen because someone read a positive review or it was highly recommended, or our group loved the way the writer put words together. I like to think we know good writing and good writing is rewarded by becoming mass produced, but that would be naive. I don't like to admit it, but it turns out that the books we read are those everyone else reads as well. Despite my classical literature education and the how intimately I'm affected by the words of Shakespeare and Wordsworth, I choose to be influenced by popular culture. It's pretty stimulating.
People ask me "Which one was better, the book or the movie?" Sometimes the two can't be compared--the resemblance of the Wicked musical to the book was the difference between immersed entertainment and worrisome effort. The Harry Potter movies liven the books with great acting, scenery, and special effects, and although I'm surprised when the way I imagined scenes or characters differs from those of the director, I love the movies. The Other Boleyn Girl, The Horse Whisperer, and Under the Tuscan Sun were relatively dissembled when put into the film medium, and although the authors became richer by ticket sales, the transformation of their words onto the screen weakened their good work. The love stories told in The Notebook and The Bridges of Madison County became richer under the glow of photography and attractive actors; contrary to popular opinion, those books, as well as Tuesdays with Morrie, are marginally well-written.
Approximately thirty of the books we've read for book group have been made into movies. I haven't figured out if we pick good books or popular books or the books we choose just lend themselves well to film. Books like Snow Falling on Cedars and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil are chosen because someone read a positive review or it was highly recommended, or our group loved the way the writer put words together. I like to think we know good writing and good writing is rewarded by becoming mass produced, but that would be naive. I don't like to admit it, but it turns out that the books we read are those everyone else reads as well. Despite my classical literature education and the how intimately I'm affected by the words of Shakespeare and Wordsworth, I choose to be influenced by popular culture. It's pretty stimulating.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
My Authentic Self
While in Lakeside at the Artist’s Way Retreat this past fall, we were called upon to reflect on influential people in our lives and how they molded our authentic selves. Our influences begin with our parents. Early on, my father gave me the freedom to dream and the drive to change the world. My mother gave me the need to care for others and the reserve to hold back. Despite struggles with responsibility versus dreams, Paul and I have grown into a loving nurturing of each other, and we are good companions who share a love of nature and travel and pursuit of our individual passions.
There's no doubt that books are among my influences. I first read "Little Women" in the crabapple tree of our parsonage in Akron, and my hunger for books became unrelenting. I was influenced by writer after writer, and in college it was Hemingway (sparing word use) and Woolf (meandering searching) that I villified. I found I was drawn to people who were excessively involved in the journey of life. Robert Tener, poet and professor of Shakespeare and Elizabethan Drama, could make me weep with his passionate recitation of 16th century sonnets. Storyteller Alice Hoffman weaves the stories of relationships and connection that are woven into the tapestry that is my view of the world.
My need to connect with others caused me to write my first novel when I was ten; most kids want a TV, but I wanted my own typewriter. David Majesky, a high school Honors English teacher who sometimes stood on his desk and roared at us to write deeply, taught me about paying attention to details in my writing, and so I added to my plot and dialogue all the little details that make up a good yarn. Lloyd Mills, poet and Romanticism scholar, supported me in the writing of my memoir as my senior project at Kent State when I was 21; he likened my work to that of Doctorow and acknowledged my meandering writing as like Virginia Woolf. He helped me find my “voice.” In "Bird by Bird," Anne Lamott wrote, “Because for some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth,” which sums up how I feel about reading and writing; Anne cautions us to take it one bird at a time and get it right, a lesson I take to heart.
Julia Cameron woke my passion and sense of possibility. But before that I was grounded in theology and knowledge through Disciple Bible Study and the spiritual leadership of Reverend Roger Talbott, who made it clear I needed to find my own spiritual haven and feel comfortable with what I chose from the dogma of religious teachings. I add to my life’s collage the long rich relationships and the short friendships where a magical moment was shared and a soul connection made. The people most important on my journey have taught me about companionship, have encouraged me to accept who I am, and believes my path is larger than the small one I’ve chosen. Friends, family, and steady supporters who call upon me to walk or have a cup of coffee or a glass of wine to share moments of our lives are my guiding light. My fellow book discussion group and critique group seekers are the choir behind me as I speak out.
The essence of who I am is a bi-product of reading and writing and the relationships I have had. I love people and connections and have a festering need to share and communicate who I am with the world. I seem destined to be a spontaneous wanderer and explorer with endless creative energy despite low-level dissatisfaction. These things define me, but who am I, really? What is the authentic self? What is my own north star? The authentic self will show me the way and allow me to make the decisions that are truly where I am on my journey. Staying true to who I am, I will always be wise in a God-connected way.
I feel most alive during traveling and exploring opportunities and any event that brings together people in a meaningful and connective soul-fulfilling way. I must live in the moment to be truly me. The moments gather meaning when I am able to reflectively write about the experience later. I draw upon the true self moments and the people who have been part of the meandering journey of life that has made up my own unique self. I am a river digging deep along the bottom and stirring truth to the surface by connecting moments of being and putting them on paper.
I wonder about the authentic selves of others, like that of the stranger next to me on the bus who stares straight ahead having thoughts different from my own as I sit and tap out words on my laptop. I wonder about the man sitting on the park bench holding out a cup, the mother who is overwhelmed with life, the child who endures his parents’ bitterness, and the lonely old woman who waits for her days to end. What inner life do they entertain? What is their authentic self? How do they reach it? In living day by day and hoping for the best. In being in the moment, enlightened, and true to who they are. We all have our different realities and also our own truth.
Each person has an authentic self, a personal design made from a meandering journey through the thickets and fields of the world and relationships. These authentic selves are ours to embrace or resist. I believe many resist their authentic selves and don't truly live as they should. Wanting to live truly, I embrace my authentic self.
There's no doubt that books are among my influences. I first read "Little Women" in the crabapple tree of our parsonage in Akron, and my hunger for books became unrelenting. I was influenced by writer after writer, and in college it was Hemingway (sparing word use) and Woolf (meandering searching) that I villified. I found I was drawn to people who were excessively involved in the journey of life. Robert Tener, poet and professor of Shakespeare and Elizabethan Drama, could make me weep with his passionate recitation of 16th century sonnets. Storyteller Alice Hoffman weaves the stories of relationships and connection that are woven into the tapestry that is my view of the world.
My need to connect with others caused me to write my first novel when I was ten; most kids want a TV, but I wanted my own typewriter. David Majesky, a high school Honors English teacher who sometimes stood on his desk and roared at us to write deeply, taught me about paying attention to details in my writing, and so I added to my plot and dialogue all the little details that make up a good yarn. Lloyd Mills, poet and Romanticism scholar, supported me in the writing of my memoir as my senior project at Kent State when I was 21; he likened my work to that of Doctorow and acknowledged my meandering writing as like Virginia Woolf. He helped me find my “voice.” In "Bird by Bird," Anne Lamott wrote, “Because for some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth,” which sums up how I feel about reading and writing; Anne cautions us to take it one bird at a time and get it right, a lesson I take to heart.
Julia Cameron woke my passion and sense of possibility. But before that I was grounded in theology and knowledge through Disciple Bible Study and the spiritual leadership of Reverend Roger Talbott, who made it clear I needed to find my own spiritual haven and feel comfortable with what I chose from the dogma of religious teachings. I add to my life’s collage the long rich relationships and the short friendships where a magical moment was shared and a soul connection made. The people most important on my journey have taught me about companionship, have encouraged me to accept who I am, and believes my path is larger than the small one I’ve chosen. Friends, family, and steady supporters who call upon me to walk or have a cup of coffee or a glass of wine to share moments of our lives are my guiding light. My fellow book discussion group and critique group seekers are the choir behind me as I speak out.
The essence of who I am is a bi-product of reading and writing and the relationships I have had. I love people and connections and have a festering need to share and communicate who I am with the world. I seem destined to be a spontaneous wanderer and explorer with endless creative energy despite low-level dissatisfaction. These things define me, but who am I, really? What is the authentic self? What is my own north star? The authentic self will show me the way and allow me to make the decisions that are truly where I am on my journey. Staying true to who I am, I will always be wise in a God-connected way.
I feel most alive during traveling and exploring opportunities and any event that brings together people in a meaningful and connective soul-fulfilling way. I must live in the moment to be truly me. The moments gather meaning when I am able to reflectively write about the experience later. I draw upon the true self moments and the people who have been part of the meandering journey of life that has made up my own unique self. I am a river digging deep along the bottom and stirring truth to the surface by connecting moments of being and putting them on paper.
I wonder about the authentic selves of others, like that of the stranger next to me on the bus who stares straight ahead having thoughts different from my own as I sit and tap out words on my laptop. I wonder about the man sitting on the park bench holding out a cup, the mother who is overwhelmed with life, the child who endures his parents’ bitterness, and the lonely old woman who waits for her days to end. What inner life do they entertain? What is their authentic self? How do they reach it? In living day by day and hoping for the best. In being in the moment, enlightened, and true to who they are. We all have our different realities and also our own truth.
Each person has an authentic self, a personal design made from a meandering journey through the thickets and fields of the world and relationships. These authentic selves are ours to embrace or resist. I believe many resist their authentic selves and don't truly live as they should. Wanting to live truly, I embrace my authentic self.
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