Archive | Age Matters

Blessings in A Minor

I was sitting on a stoop waiting on a friend, as the Stones used to sing, when I sneezed very emphatically, as is my wont. A little boy emerging from the elementary school across the street cried out in a high, triumphant voice, “Gesundheit!” Not to be outdone, all the other kids joined in, and for a second the honking cars of the early evening were drowned out by a symphony of children’s voices blessing me. The cockles of my cold heart are officially warmed.

Grateful to be Grateful: Thanksgiving 2015

For as long as I can remember, Thanksgiving weekend has been difficult—often the most trying time of the year. In general, I have never been much for official holidays. Valentine’s Day is drek; the “parent holidays” are the emotional equivalent of an emergency root canal; New Year’s Day is amateur hour layered upon the fake birthday of Jesus. I even find Groundhog’s Day to be unhappily charged, though this stems from a personal coincidence.

But Thanksgiving has always loomed as the worst.

It’s not just that it is a blithe celebration of the worst strain of colonialism. It’s not just that a yearly gratitude practice rings as false as a Hallmark sympathy card. (Gratitude is a daily—hourly!—value in my cosmology.) It’s that no other day is so much about biological/nuclear family, and I became a conscientious objector to these institutions for very real, very painful reasons. Continue Reading →

The Grinch Who Stole Sunrise

I can’t stand pumpkin spice anything. (I feel like this goes without saying.) I can’t stand when holiday music starts playing in November. I can’t stand holiday music period unless Otis Redding is singing it. But it kind of cracks me up when holiday festivities heat up even before Thanksgiving rolls around. Three times this week I have gotten home only hours before I normally rise, which is a fact I’d find even more fun if I weren’t a grown-up lady who still got up at 5:30 am every day. (I’m still having fun, to be clear; my cobwebs are officially being shaken out.) I think I am going to pen a song entitled “This Is How We Trick Our Circadian Rhythms.” You’ll be able to sing it to the melody of “Deck the Halls With Boughs of Holly.” Fa la la la la.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy