This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019), savoring every sentence. In Chapter 1, the author presents The Five Stories of Christmas that focus on faith, magic, connection, abundance, and heritage. Today’s focal thoughts center on connection.
Kempton invites us to reflect:
Do you have a specific memory that is related to a Christmas tree, a Christmas feast, or a particular Christmas gathering?
I do, in fact, have a specific memory that is related to a Christmas gathering. We were in my grandparents’ home in Blackshear, Georgia, sitting in the den by the silver tinsel tree with its bright blue ornaments – probably 1970ish. Their friends Kitty and Randolph dropped by with a tin of Christmas cookies, and I remember my grandmother receiving the cookies with warm thanks and a big hug before placing them on the kitchen counter, then returning to the den, where Kitty and Randolph sat down and made their impromptu visit. When they left, they got in their pickup truck to deliver more tins of cookies to family and friends – who, I’m sure, also had no idea they were coming for the surprise visit.
That memory still stays with me as the way of the old days before life got more complicated. It was my first experience with a Currier and Ives tin, and my first experience with a variety of different types of homemade cookies, like the kind with sticky orange marmalade in the center. This was a day when people were home more, did more baking, and made house visits. Life may not have actually been simpler; in fact, it may have been just the opposite. But the values seemed to have been much different, and everyday moments were made more meaningful because less seemed more and enough seemed bountiful.
The older I get, the more I love the idea of these bygone eras. I think it’s why I love reading anything by Gladys Taber so much. Everything she wrote from her Connecticut farm, in my mind, is seen through a Currier and Ives painting. Rustic, rural New England with snow and simple times. It was a day when people really connected. Not through a screen, but in person. Unannounced.
On a scale of 1-10, I would rate the importance of connection, gathering, and feasting at Christmas as an 8. These ratings of each of the stories will be important on Friday, when I draw my Christmas story constellation.
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers at Slice of Life
Opportunities for writing are waiting for us if we only look for them!
I stopped by the Boston Writing Project’s Drop-in Writing Station at the NCTE Convention, and I was immediately captivated by a large tree with colorful poetry hearts filled with verse proclaiming the convention theme: Heart, Hope, and Humanity. As with most conferences, I was between sessions, hoping to get a seat in the next place while still wanting to sit and write – so I did the next best thing. I’d composed a pile poem in an earlier session led by Sarah Donovan and Stefani Boutelier, so I wrote the poem on the heart and placed it there on the tree. It is a pile of blessings, and this one is read from bottom to top. Here is my pile poem from a Saturday morning NCTE session:
On Thanksgiving Day, I saw another tree just waiting to be filled with words of gratitude. This one was at the Plimoth-Patuxet Museum as we shared a Thanksgiving meal with those visiting the museum to take part in their traditional meal narrated by the chief historian, who shares the history of the holiday. Here is my leaf and the tree.
The leaves filled out throughout the day. I wish I had taken a picture when we stopped by later to read all the leaves that had been added.
I love these kinds of invitations to share responses and writing. It reminds me that everyone is eager to write and to share if the opportunities are presented in fun and engaging ways.
After the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) Convention concluded in Boston on Sunday, my husband and I rented a car and started a loop through New England so that we could see a little more of the northeastern United States. Since we didn’t take a vacation anytime earlier this year, we decided to take a trip this week and enjoy some time away to relax and recharge.
I might be a pain as a travel companion. I’m pretty sure I am, because there was frost on the top of the car and I urged my husband to get up and watch the sunrise with me. On the rooftop of a hotel. When the wind was blowing so hard the seagulls were forced into changing course.
I can’t help it. There’s something exhilarating and soul-renewing about the way the sun casts a glow at the top of the day, as if it’s pouring the world a glass of orange juice to serve up energy for all the day brings.
We woke up in Kennebunkport, Maine this morning and did some exploring in that coastal town before driving across New Hampshire to Woodstock, Vermont to do more adventuring in another state.
A pano my husband took in Kennebunkport
Sunrise picture
Christmas tree being decorated in the middle of the street
We’re enjoying watching places decorate for Christmas. We found some men with a ladder decorating a tree in the middle of the street right in the heart of Kennebunkport. There was another crew hanging garland over the bridge, and still more putting out a reindeer with lights and a sleigh and a Santa and a snowman. Snowflakes with lights were hanging at the tops of buildings, and the festive feeling of Christmas was in the air. Some homes had pumpkins on the front porches and wreaths on the front doors, and I feel like I learned something important from that.
On the bridge in Kennebunport (it was so cold I had to buy a hat for my ears to stay warm)
My favorite stop of the day was the U.S. Post Office. I’d broken my own rules by taking 17 books from NCTE with no plan whatsoever for how to get them home in just the carry-on and personal bag I brought along. So I asked my husband to find a Post Office, and one was right down a side street from the middle-of-the-road Christmas tree. I purchased a box, the kind that you peel the sealing tape off the side, scribbled my address in the TO space, and mailed these signed volumes home to myself at the book rate.
The fun came in the place and people, and I’m convinced that the actual Post Office is a character all by itself, with its very old doors that I wished had a register of all the people who’d ever entered and exited. I felt I’d stepped back in time to the 1940s. My next goal is to research the history of the building with its tiny mailboxes and the feeling of nostalgia here that had me wondering if ten thousand ghosts weren’t waving to me from the ceiling space. I saw live people coming and going, but the feeling of past was powerful here, kind of like mediums must feel when giving a fortune telling.
Then there was the man in line behind me, a gentleman of about 80, who was as kind and curious as humans come. He suggested I sit the box down when he saw me holding it so long, but by that time, I was next. He said it looked heavy, but I told him it was all books – and then he got interested……especially when I told him who’d signed them all. Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, Kate McKinnon, Bryan Stephenson, Ada Limon, Sy Montgomery, Matt Patterson, and more.
I kept wondering what was taking so long – – until I got to the window and figured it out. The Postmaster was a character, too – maybe the main one. He was about 70, hilarious with his jokes and fun. His piercing blue eyes and his mannerisms took ahold of me. He had to read the whole script, asking me if I had…..”anything perishable…..any batteries….anything liquid…” even though I kept saying no and had read the screen and pushed the NO button. He smiled a little and peered up over a raised bushy eyebrow atop the rim of his glasses so I would know it was a game. Then, when I asked for elves holiday stamps to mail postcards to the grandchildren, he told me they’d just gotten those in from Graceland, handing me two books. “You know, where all the Elv(i)s live!” I laughed the corny joke laugh, smiled what felt like the realest smile I’d smiled all year long, and wondered why every place couldn’t feel this unhurried and fun. Especially at such a busy time.
Then I stepped back out the doors into 2024.
Look closely for ghosts. I swear they are here somewhere.
My husband’s favorite stop of the day was the Bush compound, and we caught sight of three people walking. We couldn’t tell who they were, but we know someone was home since the flag was up to indicate their presence – plus, we saw several cars including the tell-tale Secret Service black SUV. This was an unplanned stop on the route, but one we both enjoyed. Even though we didn’t get that invitation to come in for a cup of hot chocolate that we stood there hoping for.
When we finally arrived in Woodstock, we went to The Vermont Flannel Company on the suggestion of a friend, who had been during her fall break last year and loved the place.
The bad news: I couldn’t buy a blanket because…… only a carry-on and a personal bag.
The good news: I couldn’t buy a blanket because…….only a carry-on and a personal bag.
I could live in their shirts and wrap up every night in those cozy blankets. And I see why the flannel is such a hit here. It’s freezing. And the Georgians? Yeah, we brought denim jackets and thin nylon windbreakers but no coats……that’s the other bad news. (I awoke early, and below is the forecast for today):
But onward we march, freezing and having a wicked good time.
The Vermont Flannel Company on Elm Street, Woodstock, VT
Even the front doors had me excited! This is a little slice of heaven on earth.
I often experience those spinoff tornadoes of excitement that NCTE brings – the conversations with others that aren’t officially a part of the conference but that take me further down avenues of thought – and occasionally, further down blocks of the city to explore physical places someone mentions.
Such was the case when I met Richard Louth, the creator of the original New Orleans Writing Marathon, whose NCTE workshop in Boston offered attendees the opportunity to participate in The Boston Writing Marathon. In this writing marathon, a large group met and wrote together for a practice session on all the exciting ways to center their writing for the hours ahead. They had a round of sharing with a protocol that allowed everyone to honor the writing of others. Then, they set out in small groups to write in various locations, capturing in words and worlds all that came to mind. When they returned, they shared their writing and experienced the essence of the collective experience.
I’d stopped by to meet Dr. Louth and expressed my disappointment that I would be unable to attend his workshop. My presentation time was overlapping the workshop – but I wanted to know more. He ran for his handout and encouraged me to write, even though I would be unable to be part of the group on the first day of the conference.
He shared more about Virtual Writing Marathons (VWM), explaining, “When the pandemic hit and physical Writing Marathons became impossible, I helped Kel Sassi of the National Writing Project create a VWM program in the summer of 2020. That summer, VWM writers virtually visited a different location in the country for an hour each week under the guidance of a local NWP site and ‘Storymaps’ that focused on different locations, and we wrote and shared in small breakout groups through Zoom. We did 10 weeks that summer, with each VWM attracting 50-60 people on average. The final VWM that summer was in New Orleans. The VWM continued each summer, and it even expanded into monthly Tuesday evening meetings during the school year. We had VWMs in Arkansas and Missouri this fall, and our next will be in January.”
He further added:
“For more information, Google NWP’s ‘Write Across America.’ It’s open to anyone to register…..also, check out the Tennessee Williams Literary Festival website.”
In our later conversation by email, I learned that Dr. Louth had gone to a place called Grub Street with a former student, where they had written together near Pier 4 for their Boston Writing Marathon location.
I had to check it out!
When we approached the doors, my husband shook his head and caught my eye in that fearful kind of way that husbands do when they realize they are about to go broke.
“Ooooh, Baby. This is all you,” he sheepishly conceded, reluctantly patting his wallet.
He was right.
From the moment we entered the place, we breathed life-giving air. Reading and writing particles flitted like glitter through the air and engulfed me in sparkles. In this place was some kind of magic for everyone. My husband took to a corner with a book by Paul McCartney entitled The Lyrics, which explains the backstories of songs. He got lost in a concert all his own, silent music flooding his soul, entering his eyes and exiting through one tapping foot.
Just the patterns of the floors and unique shapes of the light fixtures were captivating. Every now and then, I enter a place where the lighting illuminates the darkest parts of a searching soul – so much that I can feel it. I felt it here in Grub Street.
I was fascinated by the people – some working, some writing, some seeking, some reading. All engrossed in their moments. The winter wear sets a photographic temperature – a very Bostony cold with rain on the way, and winds whipping our faces. We were completely unprepared for the weather, but it added an element of survival to the experience just as any adventure book would reveal in the exposition.
And we were suddenly the coatless characters in this book store story.
I stood for a while and read the titles visitors had added to the list of books that made them feel grateful, a common theme word for the month of Thanksgiving. What book would I add? Mary Oliver’s Devotions, no doubt. And Billy Collins’s Whale Day, Sy Montgomery’s Good, Good Pig. I would run out of Expo markers before I could finish listing all the books that bring to heart a grateful spirit.
I wasn’t able to go upstairs, as the top floor had been shut down for the night, but I’ve added this to my list of places to visit when we return to Boston. What a unique concept – a writer’s haven.
I’m so grateful Dr. Louth shared this place, and thrilled I took the opportunity to visit.
Until we return, I’ll continue to wonder about the upstairs writing that happens at Grub Street.
And a part of me will secretly be grateful that I didn’t get to see it this time.
The wondering fuels the imagination and the dream. And the desire to return.
Erica from Arkansas is our host today for the fifth and final day of the November Open Write at www.ethicalela.com. She inspires us to write story-poems that span from childhood to adulthood and hover on the brink.
She urges us to “record imagery that comes to mind when you think of that childhood experience. I encourage you to focus on concrete sensory details, but if you have to pull from memory or make something up that’s fine too.”
Earlier this week, we wrote 4×4 poems, featuring 4 stanzas with 4 syllables on 4 lines with a refrain. Today, I’m trying a 5×5 with those same parameters, but without a refrain.
She inspires us to write 4×4 poems as we think about the world today. Looming in technicolor living on my horizon this week is the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) Convention in Boston, which begins Thursday and lasts through the weekend. Ada Limon, our US Poet Laureate, will be speaking on Sunday, and many others will be speaking throughout the convention – Kate McKinnon and Bryan Stephenson to name a couple. As I think about the world today, NCTE is what is foremost on my mind. There’s a different air there – where I breathe best around readers and writers, where something I can’t detect seems to flood my veins and bring joy. And to top it all off, I’ll be joining meet-ups with many of my writing group friends from Slice of Life and Ethicalela in person, even presenting with one of the groups on one of our books that just launched in September. If you’re at NCTE this year, you can find me in Room 210A of the Boston Convention Center on Thursday, November 21 at 11:30.
Hope to see you there!
A 4 x 4 poem structure follows these four rules:
4 syllables in each line
4 lines in each stanza
4 stanzas
Refrain repeated four times in lines 1, 2, 3, 4 of stanzas 1, 2, 3, 4.
On the last day of October’s Open Write, I shared this poem:
An Invitation
save the date: November 16
you may choose to arrive by stretch limousine
we’ll be gathering in style for a writer’s retreat
whether castle or cabin or on your own street
we’ll spend the day writing in fantasy places
day one: a packing list poem ~ what’s in our suitcases?
so gather your words ~ select them with flair
I’ll be the door greeter to welcome you there!
you’ll need your location and writing utensil
something to wear, and perhaps a spare pencil
we’ll all need a critter (think Hogwarts style)
and a snack to share to write all the while
and then let’s bring one thing – a gift for the group
something to make us all laugh, cry, or hoot
what’ll it be? oh, I can’t wait to see ~
here’s a basket of tickets – take some – they’re free!
let’s keep Donnetta’s theme words sparking and growing
return in November, keep writing ongoing!
I offered a glimpse of today’s prompt, encouraging writers to think of a fantasy writing retreat and these aspects: location, clothing, writing utensil, critter, snacks, and a gift for others.
Today, I offer this poem to inspire others to write poems about a fantasy writing retreat. Come join us, and share yours on the ethicalela website!
Location: I’m arriving by Oz-graced Yellow Brick Road
to this heavy oak castle door with just an armload
Clothes: wearing overalls under my farm-writing cape
this magical cloak of virtual escape
with shimmery amber-hued dragonfly wings
and chicken foot bracelets and beetle leg rings
just a suitcase, you see, for this week here together
with all of my writing pals ~ birds of a feather
Utensil: and speaking of feathers, I’ve brought my quill pen
plucked from the wing of a feisty owl hen
Snacks: I’ve sugar-spun cauldrony crinkles for snacks
shaved off curled spikes from chameleons’ backs
Critter Companion: made easier by Razor, my pink crocodile
I walk on a bling-leash, in true Funny Farm style
Group Gift: and one more thing: I bring a group gift ~
I’m taking the week to write list poems of all the things I’ll do when I retire. They say we should never retire fromsomething, always to something. So I’ll retire to some work and some play, but I want to steer the wheel and throw away the clock. This is day 5 of 5 that I’ll list ten things I’ll do when I am officially off contract for life.
First, a review of the previous days:
I’ll write into the day.
I’ll visit the library twice a week to check out new books.
I’ll read into the evening by the fire.
I’ll shop at the farmer’s market for fresh fruits and vegetables.
I’ll cook things fresh-grown and scrubbed clean.
I’ll take morning walks with the dogs, strolling instead of hurrying.
I’ll make pictures and put them on calendars and notecards.
I’ll pick wildflowers.
I’ll put the picked flowers in the flower press.
I’ll make bookmarks with my pressed flowers.
I’ll savor my coffee, linger longer before showering.
I’ll meet friends for lunch.
I’ll design patterned rag quilts.
I’ll cut flannel quilt squares and stitch them in rows.
I’ll go to sleep when it’s dark and awaken when it’s light.
I’ll wash my dishes by hand in warm water with fragrant dish soap.
I’ll bake fresh, healthy muffins for breakfast.
I’ll volunteer to drive someone to a doctor’s visit.
I’ll make a big pot of soup every few weeks to freeze and give to shut-ins.
I’ll pick my own apples in North Georgia.
21. I’ll take more impromptu personal field trips to satisfy my curious adventure spells.
22. I’ll coordinate my wardrobe down to the kind where all the tops match all the bottoms and all the outfits have three shoe possibilities – and live more simply.
23. I’ll go on writing crawls, writing in first one place and then the next through the day.
24. I’ll attend more book festivals near me and listen to more regional authors speak.
25. I’ll sit in Starbucks and write just for the crooner music and the perfectly-lit ambience.
26. I’ll carry only a small crossbody bag with my driver’s license, some money, and a tube of Candy Cane chapstick that I buy by the box.
27. I’ll sit on my front porch and pray.
28. I’ll learn more about making salves and tinctures, and take a hobby class on it.
29. I’ll wrap all my wine bottles with twine to create vases and fill them with wildflowers and leave them on random doorsteps where they don’t have Ring cameras to catch me.
30. I’ll take more slow country drives at sunset to see the sun sinking below the fenced cattle meadows.
31. I’ll choose the matinee movies on cold, rainy days and take a blanket to the theater.
32. I’ll read more travel genre books and go to places my feet may never actually walk.
33. I’ll spend more time grooming my dogs with glove brushes because they love it when I place them in my lap and give them the brush glove massage.
34. I’ll spend a few hours each week one morning chopping vegetables and fruits to go in plastic tubs for easier use in omelets and soups and snacks and dinners.
35. I’ll take more writing cabin excursions and map my route on Roadtrippers.
36. I’ll hang my tree hammock in the afternoon shade and read until dusk.
37. I’ll stroll through the aquarium and take the time to really see what I’m looking at, and spend more time watching my favorite critters (the otters) play.
38. I’ll read more blogs.
39. I’ll listen to more podcasts.
40. I’ll sit in silence more, savoring its goldenness.
And now today’s:
41. I’ll take longer showers and make them my prayer time.
42. I’ll do more bird counts.
43. I’ll piddle.
44. I’ll leave the television off – as I have always done.
45. I’ll minimize the social media scroll.
46. I’ll teach my grandchildren to make homemade ice cream.
47. I’ll read more picture books.
48. I’ll eat more charcuterie-style dinners.
49. I’ll write the memories of old photographs.
50. I’ll remember that while I have the opportunity to do more, it’s okay to do less.
I’m taking the week to write list poems of all the things I’ll do when I retire. They say we should never retire fromsomething, always to something. So I’ll retire to some work and some play, but I want to steer the wheel and throw away the clock. This is day 4 of 5 that I’ll list ten things I’ll do when I am officially off contract for life.
First, a review of the previous days:
I’ll write into the day.
I’ll visit the library twice a week to check out new books.
I’ll read into the evening, dogs snuggled in my lap by the fire.
I’ll shop at the farmer’s market for fresh fruits and vegetables.
I’ll cook things fresh-grown and scrubbed clean.
I’ll take morning walks with the dogs, strolling instead of hurrying.
I’ll make pictures and put them on calendars and notecards.
I’ll pick wildflowers.
I’ll put the picked flowers in the flower press.
I’ll make bookmarks with my pressed flowers.
I’ll savor my coffee, linger longer before showering.
I’ll meet friends for lunch.
I’ll design patterned rag quilts.
I’ll cut flannel quilt squares and stitch them in rows.
I’ll go to sleep when it’s dark and awaken when it’s light.
I’ll wash my dishes by hand in warm water with fragrant dish soap – and blow the bubbles.
I’ll bake fresh, healthy muffins for breakfast.
I’ll volunteer to drive someone to a doctor’s visit.
I’ll make a big pot of soup every few weeks to freeze and give to shut-ins.
I’ll pick my own apples in North Georgia.
I’ll take more impromptu personal field trips to satisfy my curious adventure spells.
22. I’ll coordinate my wardrobe down to the kind where all the tops match all the bottoms and all the outfits have three shoe possibilities for my minimal approach – and live more simply.
23. I’ll go on writing crawls, writing in first one place and then the next through the day.
24. I’ll attend more book festivals near me and listen to more regional authors speak.
25. I’ll sit in Starbucks and write just for the crooner music and the perfectly-lit ambience…oh, and the coffee.
26. I’ll carry only a small Travelon crossbody bag with my driver’s license, some money, and a tube of Candy Cane chapstick that I buy by the box.
27. I’ll sit on my front porch and pray.
28. I’ll learn more about making salves and tinctures, and take a hobby class on it.
29. I’ll wrap all my wine bottles with twine to create vases and fill them with wildflowers and leave them on random doorsteps where they don’t have Ring cameras to catch me.
30. I’ll take more slow country drives at sunset to see the sun sinking below the fenced cattle meadows.
And now for today’s list:
31. I’ll choose to see matinee movies on cold days and take a blanket to the theater.
32. I’ll read more travel genre books and go to places my feet may never actually walk.
33. I’ll spend more time grooming my dogs with glove brushes because they love it when I place them in my lap and give them the brush glove massage.
34. I’ll spend a few hours each week one morning chopping vegetables and fruits to go in plastic tubs for easier use in omelets and soups and snacks and dinners.
35. I’ll take more writing cabin excursions and map my route on Roadtrippers.
36. I’ll hang my tree hammock in the afternoon shade and read until dusk.
37. I’ll stroll through the aquarium and take the time to really see what I’m looking at, and spend more time watching my favorite critters (the otters) play.
38. I’ll read more blogs.
39. I’ll listen to more podcasts.
40. I’ll sit in silence more, savoring its goldenness.
Common Threads 