Confessions of a Dilettante

"Dilettante - A person who cultivates an area of interest without real commitment or knowledge"

Many years ago I graduated from high school with three years of secretarial training; I was an extremely competent secretary.  Unfortunately, that was my last formal education or training.  I worked as a secretary for three years after high school, and then left the work force to begin raising a family.  By the time I was ready to supplement our income with something less demanding than running an informal family day care, I realized that my training in typing and shorthand was inadequate in our newly computerized world.  I bought a computer from Radio Shack and learned the basics of word processing, so I could run a secretarial business from home.  No longer did I feel competent.  I learned what I needed to learn to do the jobs that came my way, but that was all.  There was always the nagging doubt as to whether I was good enough.
 



Basically, while I have a huge variety of interests and abilities, I always feel somewhat of a fraud.  I am a writer by nature, and how I wish I had pursued a degree in some form of writing through the years, but I didn't.  There were always family issues and money issues, and the possibility of college courses was a dream that I never fulfilled.  Now I write for pleasure; I keep journals and enjoy writing my occasional blog posts; I am a writer at heart, and I am constantly forming words together in my mind, but I am an amateur, and nothing more.

 One of the great pleasures of my life is reading.  I almost always have at least two books on the table beside me; I devour them, loving the feel of the book in my hands, savoring the words and the stories, and often coming away from the experience with new insights.  I am not a reader who enjoys "chick lit", or fluffy little romance novels; I prefer my stories to be more honest portrayals of life.  However, I am ashamed to admit that I have read very few of the classics, and while I have the intention of reading them some day, I haven't so far.  When in a discussion of great literature, I am at a loss.

I love to garden.  I have created a cozy haven in my yard, for both people and wildlife.  It is lovely to look at, and peaceful to the soul, but it is a haphazard garden.  I have never taken the time to learn the fine points of gardening -- composting, soil testing and preparation, perennial division, organic pest control.  My yard is too shady for vegetables to thrive.  My tiny little vegetable garden produces very little for the time expended on it.  Gardening is my joyful pleasure, but I am an amateur at best.

Sewing and crafts were a big part of my life as my children were growing up.  I went through a period of knitting, occasionally with lovely results, but with no special skill.  I used my sewing machine often -- crafting Halloween costumes and dresses for my daughter, but it was obvious that my results were less than professional. 

One of my favorite activities is flower arranging; how I love the entire process of choosing the blossoms and greenery, creating the arrangement, and enjoying its beauty.  I have done flowers for numerous parties and showers, and even for a very small wedding, but, there is always the doubt in my mind as to whether I am "good enough," with only a few short hours of training.

 

I enjoy cooking and entertaining.  Unfortunately, I have not changed with the times to lighter, faster, gourmet meals.  I prefer my old standards -- roasts and potatoes, spaghetti & meatballs, lasagna, hearty soups simmering on the stove, homemade breads in the winter; the lighter tastes of grilled meats, macaroni or potato salads, and grilled fresh vegetables in the summer.  I love creating the tablescape, with flowers, beautiful china, candles, and a lovely old tablecloth.  This is my comfort zone -- here I feel competent, even though I have not kept pace with the times.  But, no special training was required here -- only the gentle helping hands of my mother, grandmother, and mother-in-law through the years.

And, of course, I feel a sense of competence as I care for my little grandchildren.  There is no training for being a good mother or grandmother.  It comes to us the moment we hold that first precious baby in our arms -- the love is all encompassing.  We offer them love, security, a listening ear, behavioral limits, and a slow unfolding of the life knowledge we want to pass on to them.  We may be amateurs in the very beginning, but we are experienced professionals by the time they are grown. 

So, basically I have led a very full life with interests that consume me and bring great pleasure and a sense of accomplishment.  Maybe someday there will be time for writing courses; maybe someday I will have the time to pursue my gardening in a more serious and educated manner; maybe I will take a part-time job at a florist and learn first-hand the art and skills necessary to be competent in this field.  Or, maybe I will forevermore remain an amateur, a dilettante -- after all, how lovely it is to receive so much pleasure from a way of life, regardless of the degree of training or recognition received..
 

The Contradictions of Swift Judgment

When The Person "In the Daily News" is Your Friend

 

How smug and condescending we can be as we watch the evening news and read the paper.  We make such quick, harsh judgments about the people caught in the cross-hairs of public scrutiny.  As a man is being led off to a police car, we think, "A crime is a crime."   As we hear of someone killed in an accident where carelessness is involved, we shake our heads and say, "It was his own stupidity."  When someone dies of a drug overdose, we say, "Well, it was his own fault."  When a young shooter sprays bullets into a crowd, we think, "Why didn't his parents see this coming."

I am a compassionate person, but I admit that I often make these same swift judgments, without any knowledge of the full story.  Unfortunately, in the past few years, I have been forced to acknowledge the shallowness of judging others.  Suddenly, these "others" became people whose lives intersected with mine through friends and family. 

A man died while riding his four-wheeler on his own farm, as he ran into a "neck high" wire he had placed around his field of marijuana plants.  Upon hearing this, I shook my head and said, "Another example of stupidity."  And then, I heard his name.  He was a long-time friend of members of my family.  How I regretted my harsh words, as I realized the anguish his death would cause to so many I knew. 

A man set fire to his farm and kept fireman from entering his property.  As photos were shown of him walking to the police car, I thought, "What a jerk!  Who would burn down his own house?"  That night I received a phone call from a good friend who had watched this man grow up on this family farm.  She was devastated at the news, and talked to me of the good times their families had through the years on this very farm.  Once I heard the background to his story, I was appalled at my callous judgment of his actions.

I recently watched the news as parents turned in their mentally disturbed son who had bought a gun and was having thoughts of harming people.  How unthinkable to be in a position where you must place your own child into the hands of law enforcement in order to protect others.  As we agonize over the increase in mass shootings, and often place blame on the parents, we must remember the grief and disbelief felt by the families and friends of these shooters -- the question in all of their minds being, "How could I not have seen this coming?"

We sit in judgment as we watch these brief news reports -- how easy it is to see the world as black and white when we are talking about strangers, and hearing about the crime or the accident itself, with no inkling of the background story involved, and the ripple effect on the emotions of family and friends, whose lives will never be quite the same.  How easy it is to condemn a criminal without knowing the details; how quick we are to judge the drunk or careless driver. 

The truth is that we can all find ourselves in these nightmarish situations.  A phone call in the night, or a policeman at your door, and your entire world can shift in a heartbeat.  And then, instead of being the one standing in judgment, we will be the ones forever haunted by the questions and the anguish.

"Do not judge, or you too will be judged.  For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."

Matthew  7:1-2



 

The Remembrance of Hopefulness

This morning I took my granddaughter to the Altamont Free Library.  She and I both love books and reading, and I wanted to share this warm and cozy library with her.  Most of the local suburban libraries are modern and upscale, and this lovely space in an historic train station is smaller and less "techie", and I love it!!  She loved it too.  As I browsed nearby shelves, I could hear her quietly reading to herself in the soothing children's area. We finally left with several books each, and began the short trip back home.

When you reach my age and have lived in the same town forever, even a short trip causes memories to surface if you are in one of those sadly nostalgic moods.  As I travelled these country roads, with Alivia chattering away in the back seat, my mind was seeing myself on these same roads in earlier years.  Actually, I can't even remember now why I spent so much time on these backroads, but the emotions followed me on my way today. 

While life was never easy for me, there was always a sense of hope -- a feeling that some day life would be happier and less stressful.  I was always a "hopeful" person -- choosing to dwell on the brighter aspects of my days.  Today, though, the memories of those hopes and dreams that somehow never materialized left me disheartened. 

After we arrived back home from our meanderings, Alivia's parents came to pick her up.  My afternoon was quiet and I puttered in the house.  A light snow dusted the neighborhood, and I went outside to feed the birds, who always flock to the feeders when it snows.  I snapped a photo of my tiny pine tree with its coating of powdery snow, and listened to the sparrows who roost in my trellis of ivy.  The dusky afternoon slowly soothed my wistful spirit, and I put aside the "might-have-beens" that haunt me.  My warm house beckoned, and I went inside to sip a glass of wine as I put together a light Saturday night supper. 

On days such as this, when I wrap myself in a shawl of self-pity, I am reminded of a quote from a book I read several years ago.

"...we cause most of our own misery by thinking in "should-be's."  There's no use in "should-be's"...We have to find happiness in "what is." -- Lisa Wingate, in Drenched in Light. 

Wise words for us all!!
 

My Apologies, Kiernan Romney

The past few days in the Northeast have been the perfect picture of old-fashioned winter.  How lovely it has been to look out on the beautiful snowscapes which surround us.  Such serenity is found only in nature.

However, this post is not about beauty or serenity.  It is about the climate of hatred and vitriolic rantings in our nation today.  First, let me state that I refuse to listen to those who espouse their political, religious, and moral beliefs in a manner that denigrates those who feel differently.  Years ago, when Rush Limbaugh joined the lineup of a local radio station, I listened to a couple of his hateful commentaries, and have never tuned in to that radio station again.  I was appalled. 

Of course, as years have passed, many more people have begun to use the media as a tool for spewing their hatred and intolerance of other's beliefs.  "Hate Radio" and cable news shows with markedly conservative or liberal slants are filling the airways with this trash.  Social media such as Facebook and Twitter abound with political trashing.

I was particularly appalled when I read the story of the Melissa Harris-Perry segment on MSNBC last weekend.  Apparently, in an "end of the year" spoof, a family photo of Mitt Romney and his grandchildren was shown, with derogatory "jokes" about his adopted Black grandson, Kiernan.  Apparently, this was intended as some sort of criticism of the Republican party's "whiteness."

I am not a supporter of Mitt Romney, or the Republican party, but this was disgusting to me -- to target an innocent little baby, who was fortunate enough to be adopted into a large family of faith, love and security -- all in an effort to make a political statement.  Despicable!!!!  Harris-Perry apologized, but once hurtful words are spoken, it is impossible to apologize them away.

This climate of hatred in our nation is destructive and divisive.  I have very strong political beliefs, so I can understand the emotions behind the hateful ravings on each side of issues.  However, in order for our country to mend and grow, we must learn to respect the beliefs of others.  We must learn to listen calmly to ideas and solutions with which we may not agree.  And, most importantly, we must learn once again to compromise. 

The problems of our nation will not be solved with "stick to your guns" politics; the better solution will be one of working together across political lines -- taking the best ideas from each party and forging ahead.  This, I believe, is the way democracy should work.

We have a choice here.  We can go on listening to hate radio and passing on hateful Facebook posts, and applauding the failures of our politicians, rather than their successful implementation of various laws and programs.  We can continue along this path of destruction, where hatred rules, and where a nation can watch a group of adults single out one little child for the sake of political ridicule.  Or, each of us can turn off the hateful rantings, listen carefully to the ideas of others, and begin to make a difference in our society.

Which will it be??!!


 

Christmas Ponderings

 

 

With the bustle and craziness of Christmas preparations over, finally this morning I have some quiet time to rewind the season in my mind.  I have always loved the day after Christmas, perhaps even more than the day itself -- the work is over, and the memories are there to savor.  This year, the holiday season was less than wonderful.  There were worries and issues that kept me from throwing myself wholeheartedly into the preparations.  However, the house was decorated, gifts purchased and wrapped, food prepared, and joy received from the simple old traditions.

  







 

How lovely the house looks in its Christmas finery each year.  I enjoy the process of finding just the right place for my special decorations.  This year, I placed a trifle dish in the center of my dining room table and filled it with my grandmother's lovely old glass balls, which I remember her gently hanging on her tree each year.  Each time I have looked at my centerpiece, I have been reminded of her loving presence throughout my childhood.

 

One early December afternoon, my sister-in-law came out to decorate a gingerbread house with Emma -- we had time together to talk and relax, and Emma loved the candies and icing.  Later, Alivia and Luke decorated their own gingerbread houses -- how lovely they all looked.

 

We enjoyed an early Sunday dinner with my father-in-law and brother-in-law early in the season -- a quiet afternoon of wine, food, and good conversation.

 

Alivia's other grandmother and I attended a book fair/luncheon at her school -- she wanted me to bring tea sandwiches.  We bought books, ate our special little lunch, and felt fortunate to spend this brief hour together.

 

The week before Christmas was one of illness for my little ones -- stomach bugs and strep infections took their toll; how sad it is when these energetic children are lethargic and unwell.

 

 

We had a lovely deep snow in mid-December, which blanketed our world and made it seem like an old-fashioned Christmas.  Alas, by Christmas Eve, warm rains had washed away much of the snow. 

Christmas Eve dawned clear and cold, and my daughter and I spent the day in the kitchen preparing our contributions to Christmas dinner.  In the late afternoon, we attended the Children's Christmas Service at church, with part of our family -- the sanctuary filled with candles and the voices and talents of children. 

The lights were dimmed and we all held candles as we sang my favorite carol, "Silent Night", in the semi-darkness of a late-December afternoon.  How beautiful!!

On Christmas Day we all gathered at my oldest son's house -- a day of excited children, a beautiful and bountiful table, extended family (four generations of my husband's family), laughter, warmth and love.  By the time we arrived back home in the evening, my body was exhausted, but my heart was full.

And today, I woke with the knowledge that there was no "to-do" list, no schedule, nothing but time to be thankful for the beautiful Christmas we all shared, and to ponder the memories of this December.  Sometimes we are so busy with the details of this blessed holiday, we lose the spirit of the season.  After all the gifts are opened, the meals finished, and the children tucked into bed for the night, we finally have the time to appreciate the true gift of Christmas -- the love of family and friends, and the birth of our Savior on that cold night in that tiny stable in Bethlehem.

 

Watching Garth

I waited with much anticipation for the Garth Brooks special on TV tonight.  He is my all-time favorite performer, and much time has passed since the last time I saw him.  I set the DVR to record and settled into my favorite chair at 9:00.  It was a wonderful show!!

Watching him, and listening to his music brought me back to the happier years when my children were teenagers, and life seemed to stretch before us with endless possibilities.  My house was always filled with the chatter and laughter of my children and their friends, and I found great pleasure in their company.  Country music was very much a part of our lives then -- music videos on the TV much of the day, CD's playing as we drove in the car, concerts -- it is no wonder the music tonight made me nostalgic for those days.

I felt young and free, filled with wonder and hope.  Country music spoke to my heart -- I could hear echoes of my own heartbreaks as well as the resilience of my spirit.  And tonight I felt it all once more.  Thank you, Garth, for the music and the memories!!

Finding Bliss

 

 

The stuffed shells were in the oven, the wine chilling, the broccoli chopped and tossed with olive oil and seasonings, and it was time to set the table.  I chose an ivory lace tablecloth and the Old Country Roses china, put together a small autumn themed centerpiece, and slowly created the table setting.  I love the entire process of making a special dinner for friends or family.  From the planning stage when I choose recipes, through the preparation -- the chopping and stirring and roasting -- to the task of turning a bare wood table into a lovely tablescape, I feel pleasure.  Delicious aromas fill the kitchen, appetizers are arranged and placed, and guests are welcomed -- wine is poured into beautiful glasses, and the process has produced an occasion of good food, warmth and good conversation.

 

I am a "detail" person -- one who receives much pleasure from the planning and execution of a project -- from the process itself.  Yesterday I attended a local craft fair and was reminded of the years when my children were young and I sewed, did needlework, and enjoyed working on various craft projects.  Running the lovely scarves through my fingers yesterday made me long for my knitting needles.  The Christmas wreaths and tree ornaments brought to mind the scent of fresh pine, and the magic worked by my trusty glue gun.  There is a feeling of contentment as we make something beautiful or useful from raw materials. 





 

The holiday season is all about process.  As we decorate our homes, we take our motley accumulation of seasonal pieces and combine them into something lovely.  My little turkey gravy boat holds the place of honor on my sideboard each autumn, surrounded by burnished leaves and small ceramic pumpkins.  How I enjoy rearranging the items until they are in just the right places -- each small piece a complement to the whole.





Flower arranging is another activity where process is as enjoyable as the final result.  I have filled countless hours through the years working with flowers -- cutting the stems, sinking them into vases of fresh water, and then arranging them into centerpieces for holiday dinners or special parties.  How I love the scents and textures as I combine the flowers and greens.  Nothing can compare to the spring pleasure of voluptuous lilacs -- cutting them from the bushes, holding them in my arms, and then arranging them in a vase, their beautiful blossoms spilling as bountifully as a waterfall. 

The world is filled with people who enjoy the process -- craftsmen and artisans, bread bakers, painters, writers -- those whose work brings not just a sense of satisfaction when it is finished, but also joy along the way.  Throughout the years, I have spent many hours doing work that I did not enjoy -- typing, bookkeeping, transcription, and cleaning.  I have worked in offices where I watched the clock move much too slowly all day.  How sad for many of us that we cannot make a living doing the things that bring us pleasure. But, those of us who find our bliss in these small things are fortunate indeed.  How lovely to find pure pleasure as we knead bread, knit scarves, arrange flowers, light candles or polish silver.  We are blessed.