Fifteen years ago, on Dec 23, my Grampa Schaefer died. It was hard for my parents to lose him, but I'm sure it was compounded by having two young kids to bundle up to take to Iowa for the funeral at Christmastime.
I remember feeling sad not necessarily from a personal sense of loss (I was only ten and only knew Grampa through a few visits) but rather from a realization that death had affected my world for the first time. We got to open presents early that year, before leaving for Waterloo. I got a stuffed polar bear holding a Coke bottle, and probably some other toys. And Charlotte's Web, a book that would soon become my favorite.
I read that book on the way to Iowa with a concentration that resembled a religious trance. I was bundled in blankets and snow boots next to my sister Katie, warm except for the occasional icy contact with the frosty backseat window.
The funeral went as most big-family funerals go through the eyes of a child -- chaotic, confusing, but always safe. There was always somebody there to explain to the kids. Yes, grampa is still dead, my uncle explained, much to the surprise of my young cousin, Brittany. Yet the best part of a big family funeral is that it's not always sad. There are much needed breaks to the sadness. Get a big group of Schaefers together, and there will always be two things: strong coffee and funny family stories. I learned a lot from those stories, including that Schaefers were farmers.
Wait ... farmers? Like in Charlotte's Web? Even pig farmers, just like Mr. Zuckerman! My life suddenly became like the book I was growing to love.
After my grampa died, life went pretty much back to normal. I grew, learned more about my family. Like the fact that Great Grampa Schaefer had hogs (not pigs) on his farm. There's a difference. And none of them were named Wilbur. I also went on to bigger and more grown up books. But Charlotte's Web always stayed on the shelf. It's still there today.
Every year around Christmastime, along with the presents, food and games, we usually end up telling "Ol' Grampa" stories. My dad especially seems to think of him more and more as he gets older. I'm sad that I cant' remember Grampa as well as other members of my family, but I remember vividly the connection I felt with him and my history through the catalyst of Charlotte's Web that Christmas.
That may have been what compelled me, this December, to pick up EB White's collected essays. I wasn't expecting to recapture the feelings that only a child can have with her first favorite book. But i was curious to see if what White had to say to adults could be as meaningful as what he said to young people.
While I was right about not having that "Oh my god this book is about my LIFE" feeling, I was pleased by the simplicity, subtle humor and beauty of his essays. I especially loved the essays taking place on his small farm in Maine -- kind of a grown up version of his famous children's' classics.
I'm not fooling myself -- I couldn't make it on a farm today, let alone in the 30s and 40s. And I know that farming has its hardships. It's not all idyllic strolls and wholesome fun. But I feel a kind of connection, a kind of longing to experience nature, farms, animals as White did. As my dad, his dad and his dad's dad experienced it. My White-fueled pastoral fantasies are a good relief from a life that can feel so polluted, so complicated and so tiring.
12.11.2008
11.25.2008
11.17.2008
Knitted baby blanket with crocheted flowers.
I finally finished knitting the baby blanket for my ex-boss, who is due in January. I had collected money for materials from my co-workers before I got laid off. So since the money was all kicked in, I couldn't really just say "no" and keep the yarn the money purchased. Also, I like Jess, even though she's the person who had to lay me off.
At first working on it was just a prolonged reminder of losing a job that I trusted and even liked, but then it just became like any other project -- fun, and a constant struggle between what I want it to look like and the realities of my limited talent.
This is based on a pattern I read in Debbie Stoller's first Stitch 'n' Bitch, except I used worsted weight wool instead of sock yarn. There's a seed stitch border all around, and the middle is just four blocks of alternating stockinette and reverse stockinette. I think cast on about sixty stitches and just knit it until it looked like a good size, making sure the squares were about the same size.
I blocked in lukewarm water with a detergent that puts lanolin back into the fibers, making it softer the more you wash it. I did the stems of the flowers with a tapestry needle and green yarn, just a backstitch. The blossoms were crocheted separately then sewn on.
I'm pretty bummed that I can't be there when they give the blanket to Jess. I don't even know if I'll ever see or talk to her again. Oh well, I hope she enjoys the blanket because I really liked making it.
At first working on it was just a prolonged reminder of losing a job that I trusted and even liked, but then it just became like any other project -- fun, and a constant struggle between what I want it to look like and the realities of my limited talent.
This is based on a pattern I read in Debbie Stoller's first Stitch 'n' Bitch, except I used worsted weight wool instead of sock yarn. There's a seed stitch border all around, and the middle is just four blocks of alternating stockinette and reverse stockinette. I think cast on about sixty stitches and just knit it until it looked like a good size, making sure the squares were about the same size.
I blocked in lukewarm water with a detergent that puts lanolin back into the fibers, making it softer the more you wash it. I did the stems of the flowers with a tapestry needle and green yarn, just a backstitch. The blossoms were crocheted separately then sewn on.
I'm pretty bummed that I can't be there when they give the blanket to Jess. I don't even know if I'll ever see or talk to her again. Oh well, I hope she enjoys the blanket because I really liked making it.
11.16.2008
Why should I talk to people? I have Facebook.
My ex got married and I found out on Facebook. He wasn't a recent ex, and not even a really serious one, but still, the age-old stereotypical female responses welled up once I saw that status change: Why not me? Was I not good enough? What's wrong with me? How will I afford to feed the hundred cats I'll eventaully have when I'm a bitter, wizened, single recluse in a few years?
Thankfully, my feminist shoulder fairy quelled those questions, calmly reminding me that had my ex proposed then, now or anytime, I would have said no. That's why he's my ex.
This left me open to a few more interesting questions. For example, when viewing his wedding photos that he oh-so-classily posted on Facebook, I had to wonder ...
Did he always look so stupid? I don't remember him looking that stupid when we were togther. Will I too start looking stupider as I get older? That line of questiong always leads to something petty, usually said in a high-pitched, nasally voice, so we'll just leave it at that.
I switched yet again to a new questioning: If it wasn't for Facebook, would I give a damn if this dude got married? Would I even know? Why on earth am I cyber-friends with this guy anyway? Apparently, despite my constant efforts, Facebook has warped even my concept of friendship to transform pixels into a replacement for human relationships.
More often thant not, for me Facebook serves as a painful life comparison of loosely connected people. This comparison often leads to questions like the ones I raced through before. Why aren't I married? Why wasn't I invited to that party? How did my cousin get to grad school before I did? I like to think that this says a lot about Facebook, but it probably says way more about myself. If it wasn't for the "What Are You Reading" application, I'd give up the whole thing.
Thankfully, my feminist shoulder fairy quelled those questions, calmly reminding me that had my ex proposed then, now or anytime, I would have said no. That's why he's my ex.
This left me open to a few more interesting questions. For example, when viewing his wedding photos that he oh-so-classily posted on Facebook, I had to wonder ...
Did he always look so stupid? I don't remember him looking that stupid when we were togther. Will I too start looking stupider as I get older? That line of questiong always leads to something petty, usually said in a high-pitched, nasally voice, so we'll just leave it at that.
I switched yet again to a new questioning: If it wasn't for Facebook, would I give a damn if this dude got married? Would I even know? Why on earth am I cyber-friends with this guy anyway? Apparently, despite my constant efforts, Facebook has warped even my concept of friendship to transform pixels into a replacement for human relationships.
More often thant not, for me Facebook serves as a painful life comparison of loosely connected people. This comparison often leads to questions like the ones I raced through before. Why aren't I married? Why wasn't I invited to that party? How did my cousin get to grad school before I did? I like to think that this says a lot about Facebook, but it probably says way more about myself. If it wasn't for the "What Are You Reading" application, I'd give up the whole thing.
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