Nicknames & Terms of Endearment

I wonder if Anna's braids were this long
(from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang)

Salgrunkshire, Spy, Clawed…huh? Yes, all of these are nicknames I’ve had at some point or other in my life. I got to thinking about this after a recent twitter conversation. I’ve been connected there to @helgagrace for a long time, and knew her name was Anna Grace, but never asked about her twitter name. Another twitter friend, @kcecelia did, and I learned it was to do with Anna wearing her hair in braids as a child. It was said fondly, and she has happy memories with the name, so she uses it.

Nicknames are different than terms of endearment, to me. You might be sweetie, honey, baby, pussycat (to quote Little Shop of Horrors) or little choochie face (to quote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang) to someone. But chances are not everyone calls you those names. At some point most of us have likely been called something other than our given name. And I’m not talking about name-calling. I’m talking about meaningful names that for some reason stick with us, and which we are okay with. If it’s a name we like, it makes us feel connected to the people who call us that, and we all know I’m a connection junkie.

Boris & Natahsha

Back to Salgrunkshire, Spy, and Clawed. I’ve already told you about Salgrunkshire in a previous post. My big brother, Jim, a socio-linguistics major now high school English teacher was forever making up words as a kid, and this was his name for me. Maybe it’s even a cross between a nickname and a term of endearment. Spy was what I was called for a time during high school. Not only did I have a Russian last name, but I could do a fairly decent Boris & Natasha impression. I liked that one. It made me feel glamorous and mysterious, when I was about as far from those things as one can be as a teen. Maybe it’s one of the reasons I like the word espionage so much. And finally, Clawed. Only one person called me that. And yes, it was said lovingly. Many years ago my former father-in-law (who I still have affection for) called me this after their family cat clawed my eye. It was pretty scary at the time, and giving me this nickname helped turn a difficult situation into a well, not quite fond memory, but one that I can smile about now.

When I was growing up, my dad didn't like nicknames, especially Spy. I suppose I get that now. We were Russian (his father immigrated to the US in 1917) and when I was given this name it was the 1980's and the era of the Cold War. I think he's gotten over that though, as just a few weeks ago I got an email from him and he signed it Love, Daddio (my favorite name for him).

What about you? Are you known by another name to a small (or wide) circle of friends? Have you had names you’ve gone by, but no longer use? Please share in the comments.

Thanksgiving with Extended & Blended Family

For the past three year’s my husband and I have spent Thanksgiving with my daughter’s step-mom’s brother’s wife’s parents. Yes, you read that right. I spend the holiday with my ex. And if you stopped there it’d be just plain weird. But if you can read between the lines (or read the next several lines), you can see a much richer story.

The secret recipe to a successful blended family gathering includes: food, patience, humor, and love. I don’t know that those all show up in equal quantities, but they all have to be there. And I can tell you that the gatherings at Mario & Maria’s have all of that. Each year this lovely couple, originally from The Azores (which I just learned is an Archipelago, and part of Portugal), open them home to their children and their families and their family’s families and so on and so on. And that’s how I came to be included in the gathering.

A few years ago it was coming up on the holidays and we were having the annual discussion of where my daughter (then 15) would be. It was a year when my side of the family would all be gathering in St. Louis for Christmas. That meant that Natalie would be with her dad for Thanksgiving. Natalie’s stepmom, Rebecca (who graciously allows me to call her Becci) suggested we join them at Mario & Maria’s. After first figuring out that that wasn’t the name of a new Italian restaurant in town, we asked if it was really okay for us to go, since we weren’t well, you know, family. Becci assured us it was, and told us of all the family members of various descriptions who would be there.

With a sense of adventure and a hot green bean casserole in the back seat, we headed out to Maria & Maria’s homestead (about an hour’s drive from us). From the moment you enter their home, you feel like family. They are kind, welcoming, and Mario makes a mean Thanksgiving turkey (and by "mean", I mean tender and tasty). They live on wooded property, and part of the fun is a walk in those woods after the meal. There are usually a few visiting canine family members, including Diamond, a sweet pit bull mix (I know, I know, I never thought I’d write a sentence like that, and everyone says it, but this dog is different). My husband Tony is the official photographer of the holiday. Well, he’s the official photographer of every family gathering and while we sometimes complain he takes too many pictures, we’re always glad he did when we see the results. His nature photos are especially gorgeous, but it’s the candid family shots that I love best.

Another after dinner activity (and sometimes before) is playing card games with whatever kids happen to be part of the gathering that year. Recently the game has been Apples to Apples. But in past years I was introduced to other card games, like Phase 10. Anyone can join in the games, the competitions are friendly, and if you prefer, you can just sit and watch and cheer on the rest.

This year my parents join the table. And it may be the first of many to come for them, as they will be moving to our area next year. I can’t wait to introduce them to the clan who welcome you in, feed you, and have you leave feeling full of good food and of the warmth of family.

As a coworker and I were sharing our “what are you doing for the holiday” stories and I told her mine, She replied with this…”That is absolutely wonderful! The holidays are all about family – however they are related (or not!)” I couldn’t agree more!

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

Mrs. Pankhurst

I just attended my first rally. I’m not quite sure what I expected. Every time I thought about going, I thought of this line from the Mary Poppins song Sister Suffragette, “Take heart for Mrs. Pankhurst has been clapped in irons again!” I looked that up tonight and found that Mrs. Pankhurst was not only a real person, but was the leader of the British Suffragette movement. How did I not know that? I guess Mary Poppins only took me so far. Maybe if I was more like my daughter, who has a nose for research and is minoring in women’s studies, I’d know this. But I know it now (and you do too if you didn’t before!)

I’d like to think that if my best friend, Kathleen had been alive in the late 1800’s/early 1900’s, she’d have been as celebrated as Mrs. Pankhurst was. Kath and I have known each other since we were 13. Some of you may know her as @kathjustus on twitter. Her work in social justice, specifically at this time to abolish the death penalty is important and far-reaching. She’s always supported me, through stupid decisions and smarter ones. And even though I arrived at the rally tonight after she spoke, I’m sure she was inspiring and eloquent. She has a passion for her work and that comes through in everything she does.

Kathleen lives what I only give lip service to. Oh sure, I’ll retweet an appeal to sign a petition and show up for a few minutes at a rally when it’s convenient for me to do so. But Kathleen works tirelessly for a cause. It’s her job. The rally tonight was on behalf of Reggie Clemons. I encourage you to read about him here.

So tonight I learned two things (not including the fact that Mrs. Pankhurst was a real person). First, I learned that there is a lot of work yet to be done to stop states from murdering citizens with our tax dollars in the guise of a justice system that is far from just. Second, I learned that the young woman I’ve known since we were both 13 is as amazing to me now as she was then. Back then I saw her as someone who didn’t accept things as they were, but instead worked to make them better. She’s always been there for me, and now I also know she’s there for others.

Do you have a Kathleen in your life? Someone who you’ve known for a long time but continues to amaze and inspire you? Tell me about her/him.

Love is…

Remember that creepy “Love is…” comic strip that started in the late 60’s? Oh wait, maybe you didn’t think it was creepy (and if you read its history, I admit it’s kinda sweet). But come on. The characters, a cherubic man and woman are always naked! And not in a sexy way. Maybe I was too young when I first saw it but it always freaked me out a bit and it certainly didn’t define love for me. Ah, but that’s just it, isn’t it? What is love…to you? I don’t think anyone would argue that it changes over time. And if you’re lucky, it changes for the better. But then, how do you define “better”?

When my husband and I first met, he did the most romantic things. I traveled a lot for work then and not a trip would go by that I didn’t arrive at my hotel to find some treat arranged by him. It might be flowers, or chocolate covered strawberries, a bottle of wine, or my favorite, a single red rose and a bottle of Miller Genuine Draft. He always managed to talk the hotel staff into writing a note to go with it. I think it was his soft-spoken English accent that persuaded them. It was the late 90’s and we didn’t text then, but he would send me faxes with drawings of dolphins or hearts, or some other thing that meant romance to us.

Fast forward (or in today’s parlance, scroll ahead) 13 years, and today I see romance differently. Now if he sent me flowers while I was traveling I might say he shouldn’t spend the money on something like that. The other day it hit me. As I reached into the medicine cabinet for my days-of-the-week pill holder, which we use for vitamins…this is love. Each week my husband refills that holder, and one for himself, and replaces mine in the medicine cabinet. I never have to think about it. I just reach in and there they are. Why is that love to me? Because it shows he cares about our health, our future, and he’s done something to make my day just a little easier.

Okay, so you might not find refilling the vitamin container romantic. If you asked my mom what love is to her, she might tell you a sweet story about my dad and a York Peppermint Pattie. What says romance to you? Or realizing romance and love have different nuances, what says love to you?

Bon Mots

Dear Readers:
I've started a second blog, called Bon Mots. It's a place to share words I like or come across and find interesting. My hope is that you'll continue to visit the Salgrunkshire blog for longer, more personal or thoughtful posts, and also visit me at Bon Mots for short posts on a more frequent basis.

Thanks for sharing the ride,
Sue

Nature vs. Nurture – Book Love

It’s no surprise to anyone who knows me even slightly that I love to read. I once wrote a blog post titled, “I keep a book with me in case of emergency.” But that wasn't always the case.

Growing up I read when I needed to. Oh, don’t get me wrong. My mother read books to me as a young child. I recall two favorites: Butterball, The Little Chick and a Sesame Street book about things that go together (e.g., a straw with a milkshake, a key for a roller skate, etc.) But once I got past the stage of Mom reading to me, I don’t remember having much interest in books.

My daughter was completely different.  I remember reading James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl to her while I was carrying her (as in, before she was born).  And funny, but that was also the first film I took her to see at a movie theatre. She was just 4 years old at the time. I wonder how much those things have to do with her love of reading and film today.  She has never known a time when she didn’t have a plethora of books to choose from.  Her bedroom bookshelf is weighed down with the entire Nancy Drew series (which she has read), alongside dozens of American Girl books, plus the Twilight, and Harry Potter series (well, that set is now sitting on a dorm room shelf, but you get the idea).

The first time I really remember being drawn to books myself was freshman year of college. Yes, as my own girl is now living that experience, all sorts of memories of that time for me are coming to the fore. My roommate was reading the V.C. Andrews series, Flowers in The Attic and offered to let me read them. She was a much faster reader, so she’d speed through one first then give it to me. We spent many rainy Saturdays in the dorm making our way through those. But I remember them more as a guilty pleasure than a great read (they felt a bit naughty – were they? I really don’t remember much.)

After that I dived into reading plays. Well, as a theatre major that’s what you’d expect. But I think from then on I began to read more. I tended to favor series (maybe thanks to that first one that I found so spellbinding back in college).  And eventually, I learned that there’s more to reading than a good story. I began to appreciate books with more literary value. I joined book clubs, read books that friends suggested, and so on. Which brings to me to where I am today.

One of my greatest joys now is learning of a new author through something social like twitter, connecting with them, and then reading their work. Some favorites I’ve come to know that way are Robin Black, Emma Straub, and Allison Winn Scotch. And there are many, many more who may not be published but have blogs that are treats to read on a regular basis.

I wonder if some of us are born with a love of books (as my daughter seems to have been) while others come to it later in life, through a friend, a book we connected with, circumstances or what have you. What books or experiences first drew you to a love of reading? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

I’ve Made My Peace with LOST

That image is one I’ve seen 120 times in the last few months. Yes, I just admitted I watched that much TV (online via Netflix streaming). But hey, most of it was while I was cycling on a stationary bike or pumping on the elliptical. I’m down 24 pounds and have 30+ to go. I credit most of that loss to well, Lost, actually. Each 41 minute episode made for a much more exciting workout time.

But apart from the health benefits I received as a byproduct of watching every single episode of Lost again, what else did I gain from it? That’s what this post is about.

First a little background. My daughter and I starting watching the series right before its second season. We’d each had a friend tell us they thought we’d like it. That summer we got one of those Blockbuster video deals (yes, before they filed for chapter 11) where you could rent as many DVDs by mail as you wanted for $10 a month. We had a free one month trial so we watched that first season courtesy of Blockbuster (and well, by forgoing most other socializing for the period of time it took to watch).

After meeting Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Hurley, Sayid, and the rest, we were hooked (my daughter even named her hamsters Sawyer and Jack).  I’m not sure I could tell you exactly what grabbed us. Certainly the characters had traits that were at the same time familiar to others we’d seen and unique in the way they were developed. The scenario of being stranded on an island wasn’t really the appeal. Neither my daughter nor I are the least bit outdoorsy, and had we been characters, would likely have been mauled by a polar bear or struck down by the smoke monster after a few short episodes.  Maybe it was the writing. While we made fun of a few lines here and there, for the most part we agreed it was well-written, produced, and directed.

Whatever the draw, we were glued to the set for that hour each week. My husband might join us now and again, but frankly, if you watch the show you know that if you didn’t see every episode you were, well, lost. Initially if we were going to miss an episode we’d videotape it (which later gave way to DVR’ing it – I know that’s not a word but we all use it). By the time the final season aired, we’d gotten pretty busy with life, and it didn’t hold quite the draw it once did. We also agree (in discussing it now), that we cared very little for most of the characters in that final season. We cared about Sun and Jin, and of course how could you not care about Hurley? But we were ready for it to be over.  And I think we both felt a bit disappointed with the way it wrapped up. We didn’t quite “get it”, though we had theories. I read a little online and some seemed to see what I did in it. Others were more elaborate in their analysis. I just felt a bit, well, yes, lost still. There seemed to be so many conflicting things that happened. Or storylines and action that negated prior or subsequent storylines, etc. I felt alternately like it wrapped up too neatly or it hadn’t really wrapped up at all.

Time passed, and we moved on to far more important things than pondering the meaning of life, er I mean, Lost. Then a few months ago when I began working out, I decided to watch the series again on my iPad as a way to keep motivated. Today I watched the final episode. And this time, I felt differently about it. You could say I “got it”, though I’m not sure that’s accurate. A twitter pal commented that the main theme is redemption and I can see that. Several of the characters had need of redemption for their acts, and were portrayed as unable to move on until they found it. And that was granted not necessarily by an unseen deity or savior but in some cases by another character (as in Locke forgiving Ben, although Ben still felt he had “work to do”, maybe with Alex). In some cases it seemed the character needed to forgive himself, such as with Sayid. He didn’t see himself as ever being able to be with Nadia, because of all he had done, but he could be with Shannon because he accepted Hurley’s view of him that he was good.

And that brings me to the other thought I had after watching the whole season again: good versus evil. In some ways, I see the show as similar to the biblical view of either eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil or choosing the tree of life. When we eat from the former, we’re always caught in comparisons, in wanting, in striving to be good to gain something, in damning ourselves (or more often, others) for past sins. We see everything as either good or bad (if not quite evil). But when we eat only from the tree of life, we see the world differently. It all just is, we just are. Acts, while they have consequences, aren’t in and of themselves good or bad, nor are people. A friend spoke on this (the temptation to do good) quite eloquently a few years back, and you can read that here if you like. On the show, I think the majority of the characters bought into the good vs. evil worldview. The only ones who didn’t were Rose and Bernard, who chose to remove themselves “from all that drama” (in Rose’s words) and live on their own on the island. And Desmond, who is by far my favorite character, did to some extent. It may be interesting here to note that Henry Ian Cusick, who played Desmond also played Jesus in a film version of the Gospel of John. Look at his role in the final season, having to get everyone to “let go” and “move on”. He didn’t judge any of them as having done evil nor did he grant any of them redemption. He just “was”. He was there to get them where they needed to be.

Okay, so you could say I’m reading too much into a TV program. But come on. It’s Lost; it begs analysis, and this time I was ready to give mine.

What do you think? Have a different view on Lost? Have another suggestion for a series I can watch on Netflix streaming while I workout? I’d love to hear from you.