Christmas Letter 2021

 Merry Christmas!

JC told me, when I broached the subject of a Christmas letter, that all I needed to write this year was, “We moved again. See previous years’ letters.” While he may be onto a good idea there, I have forsaken the easy way out—and here I am.

True to JC’s shortened version, we HAVE moved again. You may remember that, in our last move, we claimed to be looking for a down-sized, single-level house…? And ended up with a four-story townhouse. This time, we have indeed downsized, and are in a 3-bedroom condo—still in Alexandria, still stuffed to the exploding point with books and maps and my own collections. Fortunately, the townhouse sold quickly (3 days on the market!) and the purchase here went smoothly. Only after we moved in did we recognize the issues that our so-called ‘home inspection’ failed to identify. BUT those are stories for another day. We are (after a couple months) well on our way to a functional household—though we still have a lot of de-junking and furniture disposal ahead of us. It keeps us busy.

The family continues well. Sarah is still with the City Attorney’s office here in Alexandria, and appears to be enjoying the work. Kay and Paul and the lovely granddaughters are still in Tucson—tho they have added a dog to the household. Morty, a black and white pit bull mix, has entered the weekly FaceTime call to demonstrate his newest tricks, and to be admired for them and his general cuteness. Claire is headed for middle school next fall, and Audrey to high school—except that we are not old enough for those events to happen quite yet. They WERE just babies last year, weren’t they?

And speaking of babies, we have a new great-niece: Camilla was born to my nephew Eric and his lovely wife, Tiffany, last spring. COVID has delayed our initial meeting, but I am assured that she is as cute and as smart and accomplished as all her cousins. I do not doubt it.

As for this past year… We WERE vaccinated early enough that we made a trip west in March and stayed till May, when we returned to embark on our summer plans: Chautauqua (which we canceled) and our yearly pilgrimage to the Contemporary American Theater Festival in WVa—also canceled. COVID had us backing out of October plans for a tour of the National Parks of the Southwest, and so we embarked on our previously-noted real estate adventure, which was as physically and mentally taxing as any trip. If not more so. We are getting too old for this.

Some of the good things that came out of this abysmal year were the Grolier Club’s ‘show and tell’ Zoom offerings which took us into members’ homes to see and hear about favorite bookish items; other opportunities to participate in distant learning events; renewed (virtual and in-person) contacts with family and friends—we saw my sister and BIL more in this past year than we have in a long time! If nothing else, COVID opened up a wealth of possibilities that we might never have seen otherwise.

And so, we stand on the verge of 2022: older (of course) and hopefully, wiser in some ways. We are starting anew—yet again—in a new location, with new challenges and new adventures ahead. We hope to find ourselves equal to them—and look forward to sharing them with all of you, whether in-person or online.

Have a fun-filled holiday season and the most rewarding of new years! (And come see us at our new address: 2050 Jamieson Avenue, #1216, Alexandria, VA 22314. Phones and emails remain the same…)

Mary and JC 

December 11, 2021

City Sunset

My living room window

frames a panorama of the city:

blue background, a stream of

impossibly pink clouds—

a sunset

that varies in intensity,

day by day.

Buildings stand,

stolid, immutable

brick and mortar,

anchored to earth…

but oh, the clouds,

the clouds! 

Clickers and Fobs

I am breathing slowly and consciously. In and out. Trying to replicate the slow and steady rhythm of normalcy. It's not easy. I have been dealing with the concierge desk at our new condo.

We have been beset by an amazing plethora of mistakes, misinformation, deflections, inaccuracies, conflicting statements, and probably, some outright lies. When we signed our settlement papers, we should have received keys to the condo, 2 additional fobs that gave us entrance to the lobby and elevator, and 2 clickers that provided access to the garage in the building. Let me provide emphasis on the "should have". 

Instead, we received NO condo key, with the information that all the keys were in a kitchen drawer. We were given a code to enter into the unit's push-button door lock. The ONE fob we had in our possession was the one that had been in the lockbox prior to the sale. There were no garage clickers.

And here we are today with limited access to our new property, and inability to access our purchased parking spaces (in a neighborhood where street parking is pay parking). Further, virtually no-one can answer any of the myriad questions one has about moving in and how access to the freight elevator is managed for movers and/or workmen who are essential to the process.

I do not often lose my temper, and yet have been seen this week shouting at the woman behind the concierge desk, when she asked for my email for the third time (after I had emailed it to her last evening) and then got it wrong anyway. After she had told me (in a triumph of circular argument) that I had not been added to the HOA portal --as her colleague from the day before had told me she would do on receipt of my name, unit #, and email information. There were no door fobs or garage clickers available at the property management office, and they would have to be ordered. How should I order them? Through the HOA portal, TO WHICH I WAS DENIED ACCESS. Probably because I needed a serial number from one of our non-existent key fobs. (I made that last bit up.) Could she order them? No, she would have to contact the property management company. (Have I mentioned that I had asked all these questions and made these requests in an email to the management company--and to the same person she 'had to contact'--over a week ago and had received no answer? No. Probably not.)

There may be activities more frustrating than this week's exercises in patience and calm and fortitude. I don't know what they might be, but from all those things, dear Lord, deliver us.

Turning Over Rocks: RBG

 

If you’ve ever been a gardener—

one of those precious people 

who dig in the dirt, and plant

and nourish seeds and make them

(sometimes by force of will)

grow—

you know what it’s like.

A lot of work, a lot of rocks

to be removed, weeds

to pull, water

to be carried. And sometimes,

it seems like no-one knows

all that you do

for the sake of making

something green, something alive,

something good, something to remember..

She was a gardener.

She dug deep and

shone her light, her wisdom,

in the dark places— 

She turned over rocks

She rooted out weeds,

and willed us, willed the system

to grow and protect,

and nourish and cultivate

the neglected, the ignored,

and give them opportunity.

Good people do that,

often quietly, often by dissenting,

for the sake of making

a world that’s greener, more alive,

a better place, a nobler place.

Remember her.

Book Collector

 Book Collector

​

He is a collector,

and he said some people

hold their books too closely,

protecting them from the 

world at large

and the damage it inflicts.

He said

he wanted us to take them

from their shelf-homes,

to touch and turn their pages,

to read, admire,

and be inspired.

​

I think, contrarily,

that it is the books themselves 

who, after long and lonely seclusion,

standing rigidly

back to back 

appreciate

a walk in the world,

filling their lungs with

fresh air,

filling minds with 

fresh thoughts, warming 

their pages in the sunshine,

opening their windows

and flinging wide doors

to greet the reverential reader,

to clap him enthusiastically

on his back

and welcome him, at long last,

home.

Valentine 2021

 Valentine 2021

 

Twenty-four seven, three sixty-five.

All-day, all-night, three-meals-a-day.

Morning traffic, nightly news, 

foggy mornings, afternoon clouds,

rising moons, occasional stars.

Quarantine.

 

You are my sunrise,

my sunset,

the color to my world. 

You are my light

when the world is dark:

you make me shine.

Memory and Vision

 Memory and Vision: What is Art?

 

No matter what it is, there is something only you can see; it may be a lonely birch pointing to the sky. It may be a twist of wood that catches your eye and is beautiful to you. You may see a stack of canned goods and see the trace of a remembered curve—or hear the music in a particular string of words. Vision commits a thought to material representation, and that frozen, yet fluid thought remains: a memory to be seen and considered and experienced by others and their children , inspired and inspiring, as long as it exists. 

 

A vision is ephemeral; 

art is the attempt to capture it.  

Memory puts things in boxes; 

Vision strews them about 

and picks and chooses to tell its story.

Order travels in straight lines; 

art takes circuitous paths.

Order is black and white; 

art is living color.

Order is a ticking time bomb; 

art stops the clock.

Order is featureless desert; 

art is our oasis.

Order is a clacking computer; 

art is the reset button.

In a frantic landscape of orderly living, 

art is the white space that refreshes the eye.

 

Vision depends on memory, 

and that memory depends on art--

Feeding one another, 

nourished by the interaction, 

Twined and twisted

Till there is no division, 

no beginning, no end, 

merged in a circle of renewal.

 

 

Life is laid down in black and white, 

straight lines and logic, 

squared up and saluting, 

humming with action.

Art brings us together.

Rooted here, we all can grow.