Should We Shelve the Elves?
I feel sorry for the parents of young children today. As if fielding sanctimonious questions about why mommy is kissing Santa Claus, whether or not the fake-bearded mall Santa is on Ozempic, or “you're sure there's just one sleigh?” from the second-grader who can multiply and divide four different ways is not enough; now, after balancing work with clandestine online shopping, schlepping the kids to basketball, ballet, church, and holiday concerts, parents have to remember to move the scout elf AND make it clever.
Which Love Would you Like for the Holidays?
I was talking with a friend about her new love interest. After years of post-divorce self-subscribed abstinence, she met someone, and he was perfect, but for one thing. They had been together for a year, and he had not said the big three words. But he was always doing things for her. Every weekend, he blew off her yard. The other day, she found him changing the air filters and replacing a rotted fence board she did not know she had. He even cooked for her, her kids, and her extended, wildly insane family. But he had not said I love you. I shook my head as she talked. "You had me at leaf blowing," I said. "Have you considered his love language is different from yours?" She shrugged and said she liked hearing it. I reminded her that the former husband was excellent with words but not so much with actions. "Love is a Verb," I said.
Play Action Fake: How High Tech Service Drops The Ball
I can't help but wonder what the service reps are doing during the hours we are together on the sidelines; maybe the same as me. I picture the first guy working his nautilus, customer service headset securely in place, hold button close by for between sets. The second lady is shopping online or potting a mum. For most of the call, she had me on mute, said she was with me the whole time. So when the music started back up, a foreboding transition, I rationalized she must be picking her kid up from school. Ever hopeful she would return, I pictured radio waves rolling across America for an entire afternoon while I waited for someone to help me find my order. I even had time to search up articles on Google, "Are electromagnetic waves bad for the environment?"
Part Two: An Appalachian Epiphany
The theme of leaving and returning is strong in Appalachia; it is difficult to make a living without the coal jobs. Many people must travel hours to work each day in Georgetown, Somerset, wherever industry has jobs with wages enough to feed their families. It is easy to see why they must move away, and it is easy to see why they yearn to come home. The mountains pull them in, wrap them up, a warm fleece that safeguards them from unfamiliar winds; they nestle in, scrapping to sustain the foothold of their common connections.
Appalachia Part One: The Common Wealth of Kentucky Heads East.
Mayor Stapleton sat in a portable chair across from Kelly. She started her outline while he pointed overhead at a perfectly-timed bald eagle and said, "when people came here, they were looking for independence. Not necessarily independence from the government, but yes, not necessarily independence from religion, but yes. They just wanted to be independent, period. They wanted to be left alone wanted to do their thing. That gave them a strength that's second to none. At one time, right here on this point on the side of the mountain, there were cornfields so they could feed their crops and feed their families." Farming on the side of a mountain "that takes determination and ingenuity.
The Common Wealth of Kentucky Project is Born.
I woke up on a padded bench inside a metal van, my body stiff. Big Agnes, my sleeping pad, was deflated and crumbled on the floor next to an open bag of tortilla chips and empty plastic wine glasses. The rotary spew of coffee from the Keurig sounded like bliss. Kelly sat my cup on the edge of the narrow Formica counter, unzipped the door as quietly as she could, and stepped out to the gravel parking lot, Casey Jones Distillery. She set her mug on a moonshine barrel, stretched her arms to the clear blue sky, and groaned. Jill was in the back, curled up, still asleep after tripping over the exploded duffle bag on her early morning trip to the toilet. We were three middle-aged women traveling western Kentucky in a sprinter van, and this was day two of our “Common Wealth of Kentucky” tour.
Painting Walls is the New Yoga
No doubt “becoming more mindful” is on many new year’s resolution lists. I love the word, “mindfulness.” When I think it or say it, it makes me feel better, like a better person even, more thoughtful, current, chill, accepting— yes, mindful. I am mindful. Wait. Am I? Are you?