Friday, September 18, 2009

A New Year

For me, the year is shaped like a wave. The bottom of the wave is when school starts. It moves up in an arch. The top of the wave is January 1st. Then the wave gracefully falls toward the sand, the end of the school year.


In other words, the year starts in September, ends in June, then you spend the summer playing at the beach.

Today, at sundown, Rosh Hashanah, begins. It seems so right to me that the new year starts now. New clothes and a new pink pearl eraser signaled beginnings to me more than champagne and "Auld Lang Syne." I am not Jewish and this isn't a holiday I celebrate, but I grew up in a neighborhood where many of my friends and classmates did. I always thought theirs was the better calendar!

So, even if this isn't the beginning of your new year, may you find peace and prosperity in the coming months... "for a good year."

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Telling Stories

Time has just gotten away from me. I think that's what happens when you go from no structured job to one with specific days and hours. I'm getting to like the new employment venture. Yesterday I made money. Today I got a lot done.

But tonight when I went to visit my favorite blogs, I realized I had missed a whole week of "As the Trout Turns." It shocked me. Where had my time gone? What did I have to show for my time?

I like to write, but I'm not a writer. Writing this blog is great, but I don't have to. What I know about writers is - they write. No matter what. My friends Susan and Madora are writers. They write essays. Susan keeps me in stitches with her commentary on life, children and chickens. Madora catches the truth about everyday life. Many of her essays have been published and she collected the ones on family life into a book. She once wrote an essay about me. It was a real thrill.

And while I don't think of myself as a writer, I am a storyteller. Mostly when I write it ends up a story. I actually get that from my mom. I know I kind of bashed her in my last post. And yes, there are good things I got from her (thanks for the reminders), and one is the storytelling. She told us great stories as kids. They were mostly about her and her best friend Marillyn and their adventures in Depression-era Los Angeles. Some of the highlights included a high power water pistol at a movie theatre; Sneaking into the glamourous hotel The Garden of Allah; and a day spent watching Sonia Henie movies over and over.

I hope my kids learn the joys of storytelling. My daughter doesn't like my stories the way I liked my mom's. My daughter is a poet. Not matter what, she writes poetry. And not the long wordy ones, but clean, sparse poetry that says in 10 words what I as a storyteller would say in 100. I wonder if her moment of "dear lord, I've turned into my mother" will come when she tells a long, rambling tale, a story, worthy of me or her grammy!?

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

My Mom Really Should Blog

I was leaving a comment on a blog just now and was struck (it hurt) by how like my mom my comment was.

You see, my mom will listen to whatever I say . . . for about 3 sentences. And then she will proceed to tell me about someone in her life that my sentences reminded her of.

I do not know if she has always hijacked conversations. I think mostly she just talked. About other people. A lot. She really likes talking about people. Not gossipy or mean, just relating their stories. She is a master of making a short story very long!

It's only been since I actually wanted to share stuff with her that I noticed how she doesn't exactly listen to me.

Anyway, I read a post of a friend of mine. She talked about a lot of things, she often does and I really like her blog. My comment responded to a small thing she wrote and it was all about a family member of mine that sort of relates.

I have turned into my mother, oh my!