Author Archives: elizatwist

In Our Darkest Hour…

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…do we turn away from darkness and toward the light?

The past year has been full of dark times for me and people in my life. And it seems the same for many who I don’t know. But then, there are always dark times for somebody somewhere, yes? What is in question is not the darkness itself, but how we choose to respond to it.

There have been many singular moments in this past year when I considered the question, have I hit bottom yet? Though I was usually somewhat out of my head in such moments of quandary, I would often marvel at the question. On the one hand it seemed strange to me that I would have wanted to have sunk to the lowest of my lows. And then I would realize that I was likely posing the question under the assumption that if I had indeed hit bottom, I’d surely begin my ascent sometime soon.

We have just narrowly missed another apocalypse, suffered a national tragedy (at least one that I’m aware of, that is), and right here in our little slice of the globe, mother nature celebrated the winter solstice with the sort of weather that made us want to retreat indoors and abandon our outdoor plans for celebration. These three things came together last night for me as I thought about how I could mark this natural turning point.

A thought on the apocalypse that a friend shared with me: perhaps it is simply the end of the world as we know it. In the wake of the violent events in Connecticut last week, I think that we are past due for a collective adjustment to our social values. So I like the idea of some new reality. I’m thinking of the sort of reality where we are careful to let absolutely NO ONE slip through a single crack.

Clearly this recent event has sparked all sorts of thought and discussion. I read one blog post that got me thinking. Here are my thoughts, in short format:

We humans are capable of really awful things in the same way that we are capable of really amazing wonderful things.

When these things happen, we have a wide variety of responses.

I am (always) interested in a response that is simultaneously grounded in deep thought and is forward looking. I am looking to make improvements where ever possible and it seems that in order to do that, the real problem must be addressed.

Violence is widespread on this planet of ours. How we respond to the violence depends on how we feel about the victims. Race matters. Cultural and geographical proximity matter.

To me there is always one common denominator in these questions: humans causing harm or death to other humans. And yet, I feel rather alone in this emphasis. People want to talk about details, they don’t seem to want to address the basic question: how do we let this sort of thing happen. Ever?

I believe that we have the power to stop violence. I believe that when we value life, we will do that. I believe that when we value life above all else we will make choices that are different from the kind of ones that lead to tragic events anywhere.

Humans causing harm to other humans where ever it occurs is a result of negligence on all our parts.

(Which brought to mind a quotation that I see while driving around these parts, and a discovery of a cool blog. I usually feel a pang of remorse when I consider these words because I feel that I ought to be doing more: “To ignore evil is to become an accomplice to it” – Martin Luther King, Jr.)

And now, at least in this moment, I feel that I have an answer to those pangs that I’ve so often experienced as I realize what little thing can we each do to shift our collective reality. I think kindness is the key. Kindness in all ways, toward all people, even in moments of distress or upset. Kindness is always the best option. But before kindness, we must try to really see each other, to bear witness to the sufferings and successes of our fellow humans. And in order to do this for others, we must first do it for ourselves.

This is the sort of thing that we can each begin immediately. And when we lapse, we can resume at any point in time. It can be that simple, I believe. Our real power is far more subtle than political speeches or even the most violent act.

(Which brought to mind another of my favorite quotations: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that” – Martin Luther King Jr.)

And so we have made the turn. Definitely in material terms, perhaps in spiritual terms as well. Welcome light. Welcome love. Welcome hope.

 

Pilates…Naturally

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Pilates is movement.  Life is movement.  Pilates is life, condensed and systematized for our optimal experience of the whole.

Our bodies are in constant motion.  Really.  I know that you may not believe me since you’re probably sitting on your duff reading this.  But you are breathing, yes?  And your heart is beating.  And whether you know it or not, each organ is doing it’s own little dance, or at least trying to (sometimes the record skips a beat).  All this amounts to quite a party going on in your body all day, every day.  And you are the host.

If you are looking for some reminders of your natural tendency toward movement, watch young people (the ones who haven’t yet been to school or been responsible for a permanent bottom shaped indentation on the sofa) and animals.  Consider the natural cycles of trees and plants, the ever changing moon, and remember to look up and enjoy the endless variety of skyscapes that we have above us each and every day.  Life is change, you are change.  Embrace the change.  Be a delightful host.

While we are all in constant motion at some level in our bodies, we each have some very real risks of stagnation.  Our thoughts and emotions can become rigid and unchanging, as can our outer bodies (our muscles and joints in particular).  Lack of movement in any one area, affects the whole of the body.  Much of what we do with our most superficial bodies these days is stationary.  In most of what we are doing, we are sitting or in a relatively stable position, for far longer than is suitable for our moving bodies.

This gives me the notion of a hard shell around a dynamic body.  Clearly the hard shell sets limits on the contents.  Pilates offers us an opportunity to “soften” the shell with movement.  As the outer layer of our bodies becomes supple, so do the inner layers experience freedom to move for optimal functioning.  At the most basic level, Pilates gets us moving.  While doing each Pilates exercise very well can yield exceptional results, simply doing each exercise with a sense of keeping moving can yield surprising results.

Joseph Pilates realized the risks of human life as he observed how we were ever becoming a society of un-moving people on account of our more sedentary work and social lives.  He predicted our declining health at a collective level before our life-expectancy rates mysteriously began to drop.  And so he developed what he considered, and what many have found to be, an elixir to reverse the worst effects of our less than civilized ways of living.  That was back in the middle of the twentieth century.  While plenty of people have benefited from his work, there are still millions who stand to improve their lives with knowledge and practice of his innovations.

And so it seems to me that it is time to get moving……

My Pilates Teaching Practice

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(I use the word teacher here, but I’ve come to realize that when I’m really doing my work well, I’m not at all a teacher, but a facilitator and witness.  The real truth is that we are each learners and that anyone who chooses to work with me is benefiting on account of their efforts primarily and secondarily my own.  Above and beyond all else, this concept determines my practice.  This respect for the learning process and the learners involved in it, is the very foundation of my work in my little Pilates studio.)

As with all teachers, my teaching practice is a reflection of me and my life circumstances, and it likewise influences my perspective on many aspects of my profession.

I have always wanted to be a teacher in some capacity and it seems that I always will be.  To know that gives me a sense of confidence about my daily work that I can appreciate given the many challenges that it presents to me.

When I started teaching Pilates I had no idea what I was doing, I’m sure if some of my first clients were asked they would attest to that.  I find it interesting that some people stuck with me through my years of learning and that some moved on to other experiences.  This is partly why I’ve always thought that my relationship to my clients is just as important as the content of what I teach them.  We all learn from each other in so many ways.  I have always been grateful to have each and every one of my clients because I’ve learned something from every session that I’ve had with them.  We are each others’ teachers in so many subjects spanning far beyond Pilates.

I think that this notion of a sharing back and forth between my clients and I is partly a result of who I am and partly result of the circumstances under which I teach.  I have worked alone for the majority of my teaching years and always apart from my teachers given where I live.  I think that my teaching style tends to be more experimental and collaborative with my clients for those reasons.  If a question comes up, we’ve had no one to ask but ourselves and so we’ve done our best to honor what we know about Pilates and do what feels right.  I have had the wonderful learning opportunity to have some of my teachers work with my clients.  That is the only time that I’ve been able to see somebody else’s interpretation of how a client works or what to do about any number of conditions or scenarios that they happen to be experiencing.  Apart from those precious moments with a senior teacher present my clients and I have been much more like collaborators than teacher and student.  in the frequent case that we’re confused about something, we’ve had to figure it out together.  We tend to try out lots of theories until we strike upon what feels best.  I tend to ask clients what they feel a lot in order to know how they’re doing with a given exercise.  I think that this also helps them to build awareness of what’s happening in their body.  Romana told me once that she was trying to help me feel certain things.  This made perfect sense to me given my tendency to check in with my clients’ physical experiences.

As time passes we all get better.  My clients in earlier days had to muddle through with me as I stumbled to figure out the best way to help them achieve any number of goals.  This is another reason that I have so much appreciation for my clients.  Had they not been willing participants in my frequent experiments, I would not have as much grace and acuity as I do today.  Not that I’ve reached my desired level of either of those qualities, but I’m certainly farther along than I once was.

And this is how I continue.  I am always reaching toward a new frontier, as I am always interested in gaining more comfort and grace in the scheme of the constant change which defines this life that we live as humans.  Real Pilates is movement first and foremost because we humans are always in motion at some level in our bodies.  To be in practice with Pilates as a teacher and as a student is to be in practice with life.

My Personal Pilates Practice

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I have a few reasons for having a Pilates practice.  Here they are in no order of importance.
In order to be a good teacher, one must be a student.
I like to be physically active.
I’m not into high impact or intense forms of exercise, Pilates is just right.
I have a history of a bad back and tight hips, if I don’t do Pilates my body falls apart.
Practice what you preach.
I want to be better off physically than I am or ever have been.

Any one of those reasons may be what gets me to do my workout on any given day.  I do have a bit of a lazy streak and plenty of excuses to avoid exercise and so I have a whole host of tools to keep me moving.  A big part of that challenge for me is that I’m not part of a particularly large community of Pilates instructors.  I teach in my little studio by myself and although I do have my Pilates buddies we are all busy and can’t always scrap a workout together.  So often I’m alone, putting myself through my paces.

I don’t think that I’m alone in that I tend to be more disciplined and work harder when I’m in the company of others.  There is a hierarchy to that rule, listed in with least amount of effort expended first and increasing in intensity from there:

1) workout alone with very low motivation (this is generally done out of necessity, just to keep myself together)
2) workout alone with high motivation (this can be fabulous and leave me feeling great, ready to take on the world)
3) workout with a friend (generally this is going to push me to do more than I would alone, even if it’s by a small margin)
4) workout in a group with a teacher (the teacher will inevitably inspire me to push just beyond what I would do alone, but I’ve still got some anonymity to keep me from really going whole hog)
5) workout with a teacher (this is when I really give it my all, will most likely be sore the next day, if not while I’m exercising.  These are the workouts that push me to the next level and are therefore essential to my practice).

Which teacher is important and I tend to be fairly particular in who I choose to study with.  Generally I work with a person repeatedly, unless geography forbids it.  The majority of my current teachers have at least 20 years experience in the method and that is by design.  I have a pretty fragile body with a long history of pain and discomfort so I am careful who I entrust with my well being.  Teachers with many years of experience tend to be able to give me a good workout and help me to avoid any exacerbation of my conditions.  That is very important to me.  My geographical location dictates that I have to travel to work with my teachers, therefore I save my resources for those very special and rich experiences.

This is how I’ve built my practice over the past decade-plus.  There is always room for improvement and change.  There is always room for taking the work to deeper levels.  That is why I love Pilates and why I do not foresee a time in my life without a Pilates practice.

My California Winter Freeze

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what's in my freezer

It should come as no surprise that I’m late in getting this post written up. As I’m new to this blogging business, my writing schedule is still sporadic. But as I anticipated, it is yielding excellent results for me and my sanity. My pint-size companion is in the midst of a crest of disequilibrium (and we think teething pain) this week and so I can use these little spots of time with my fingers clicking away at the keys all the more.

I’m late to publish because we are already about a month into eating out of the freezer. Clearly storing foods for the winter is a thrifty thing to do and a healthier alternative to eating foods that are grown and then flown, but I wanted to share my ideas for freezing just in case I’ve also got at least one novelly nifty item on my list as well. Items are therefore ordered accordingly.

Hate garlic breath? Me too. Since we get a CSA box, I get more garlic than I’m inclined to use on account of the resulting stink. But it dawned on me that I could take full advantage of parsley’s miraculously anti-garlic-stink properties. So, when I get a head of garlic, I also get a bunch of parsley, then I remove the stems and skins, rinse, and process in our mini cuisinart. I portion the mixture into plastic sandwich bags (I must find a greener alternative…) and plop them in the freezer. Then I’ve got flavor at the ready without the unfortunate aftermath. For example…

Tonight’s dinner is almost completely from the freezer:

Eggplant parmigiana patties (prepared back when we got a lot of eggplants in the box), slathered in TSH marinara sauce (which I purchase when available for just this sort of purpose) and mozzarella (okay, I’ll pick that up at the market today along with a loaf of bread) for garlic bread (with parsley, of course).

Orange and Lemon zest. When zesting, why not go all the way and put the extra bits in a baggie for later? Waste not, want not.

Roasted peppers. Around October is the optimal time to gather up a lovely variety of peppers at our local farmers’ market. I roast them and remove the skins. Then I chop them up into strips and portion them into baggies. I use them in all sorts of dishes through the following months. A far thriftier and healthier way to enjoy roasted peppers than purchasing them in pricy jars.

Tomatoes. I know, I know, everybody’s got their way of putting tomatoes up. I’ve tried a few. For now, this way is the best for me. I purchase a couple boxes from our favorite farm, rinse, bag, and freeze. When the tomatoes thaw, the water naturally separates and the skins fall off with minimal effort. Real. Simple.

Herbs in the freezer: basil and sage. Sage on account of the fact that I can’t seem to find away to get it completely dry with air alone and basil because my husband’s favorite way to cook carrots involves fresh basil and so frozen fresh is better than dried.

Blackberries in freezer. We take an annual trip up to a nearby town that is bursting with wild blackberries. We fill every container that will fit in our car with the delicate fruits of our labors. Because my husband can’t tolerate seeds, we run the rinsed berries through a food mill. In the past we’ve made jam, but this year on account of limited time, we just poured the puree into ice cube trays, froze, and then plunked them into (you guessed it) a plastic bag. We take the seed pulp and boil it up with sugar and water to make a tasty syrup for waffles or pancakes.

Lemon juice at the ready. We have many friends with lemon trees which I think is just wonderful given my love of lemon juice (I have to hold back on putting it in just about everything I cook, because my husband does not share my opinion). When we receive a bag of gifted lemons, we juice them and freeze the juice in ice cube trays and then we put them in plastic bags.

Summer rhubarb sauce. Last year when I had a very small baby to care for and a frequent sense of overwhelm to navigate, my father-in-law showered us with rhubarb from his garden. I was not pleased. Surprisingly, my husband welcomed the gift and put 4 full freezer bags in the freezer. For later. The thing is that later for my husband is waaaay later than it is for me. The kind of later that may never happen. Lucky for me, I stumbled across this recipe and now it follows, that since our source didn’t deliver this year, I was searching for rhubarb at the farmers market so that when February comes along I will be able to satisfy a particular craving.

Aside from the use of plastic bags in the freezer, which we do wash and reuse, by the way; we make use of quart and pint sized yogurt containers for freezing foods. Generally speaking, when I cook something, I cook enough for dinner, lunch the next day, and a couple meals worth for the freezer. This keeps me from having to spend each and every day cooking in the kitchen save for preparatory work.

Here’s a list of the meals that our freezer currently contains with links to their online recipes when available:

goulash, red bean chili, white beans, stuffed cabbage, minestrone soup, and butternut squash lasagna.

Clearly, a full freezer is the only way that I feel comfortable starting the winter. Although, it’s only fair to admit that these days in Oakland feel more like summer (sorry to point this out to those who currently are shivering in their seats). It would seem that my California freeze is contained to a rather small box in my kitchen. And I’m okay with that.

 

A Solid foundation

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There is a little something that we people commonly do that makes me cringe. And it dawned on me that I should share the alternative to that cringe-worthy behavior here. I read about this in Elizabeth Noble’s book back when I was pregnant and now that I’m nearly 1.5 years into the testing of the theory she presents, I’m fairly confident about it.

The idea is to support a baby from his/her pelvis from birth thereby giving baby a sense of our upright response to gravity. This applies to holding, picking up, and passing babies. Consequently, I never pick my boy up from his arms or shoulders. I do occasionally lift him by his ribs, but I mostly squat down and lift him from his pelvis.

So far, I’ve noted two benefits to this. It would seem that offering a baby / toddler such support gives them an opportunity to build a body awareness that begins near their center of gravity. This is important because an awareness of this physical center logically leads to greater control over that area which is relevant since the center is a powerful leverage point in our human bodies. In the first years of life we are engaged in many exercises of control over our bodies. Most relevant here, I believe, are sitting up and walking, but of course all these things are so interrelated that it is impossible to truly compartmentalize. Since we sit on the bones of our pelvis (at least babies do at first, before our socially acceptable and physically abominable habits mess that up, but that is another topic for another day) it makes sense to give babies support from that place. After all that is essentially what sitting is, supporting our pelvis from the bottom. Likewise in walking, we learn to walk from the feet up so it follows that support from the bottom up is most in keeping with the learning process. In contrast, offering a child support from the arms to walk is both distracting to their process and potentially harmful to their shoulder joints. How would you like it if somebody was constantly pulling your arms over your head while you were going about your business? This brings up an ancillary point to my original one which is that I avoid leading my kid by his hands. If we walk hand in hand, which we do a lot of these days, I’m very careful to walk at his slower pace and not pull at him. In that small, but I do believe significant way, we are equals in each journey that we take together.

Now that I’ve seen a fair number of people interact with my son, I realize that I’m in the minority with my approach to the physical support to babies. And this is why I feel it is so important to make the point, somewhere. Anywhere. To put the thought out there with the hope that over time more people will come to understand some of the fundamental aspects of our physical bodies, and the best ways to honor those essential elements to our human experience.

Should I Stay or Should I go?

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Our time with family yesterday, my recent walk down memory lane, and my current read (which I have a very difficult time putting down and find it very easy to think about during long car rides), have all come together in my mind to a few realizations.

Thus far in my thirty-odd years, I’ve noticed a common thread through most of my experiences: the constancy of transition. Here is the particular instance that weighs on my mind today. I was born in a city with a dearth of people. As a young child, I lived in that vacuous space and imagined ways to breathe new life into what was left. Presumably my father, with his love of architecture and tendency to dream was also engaged in a more tangible and adult version of this exercise (this is purely speculation, mind you). I left that city, upon which I’d laid so many dreams and hopes. I left and I often missed it terribly. But it seemed that I had to go. There were not possibilities for me there. I was facing a mismatch within myself and the easiest thing to do was to go. Now, truth be told, my parents left. One and then the other, while I was still a child living with them. So, to be fair, my departure wasn’t so much a departure, as a lack of returning once I was of the age to choose for myself where exactly I would begin to work on making my dreams reality. But to me, given the heavy burden of being part of the small community that stayed back in the 1970’s it felt like I’d left. And in the past few years, as returning would be a very cost effective choice compared to continuing to live where we do, the possibility to return has been considered and discussed. But always with the decision to stay put, for now.

Living in Oakland has felt like a good compromise because there are so many characteristics that Oakland and Detroit share. But my husband doesn’t agree. He grew up as an only child out in the country, he’s used to considerably fewer people and, in tandem to me, he holds on to the possibility of returning to his roots. And so it seems that someday in the future I may have to venture even further from my home, to a different sort of place all together. I must admit that while I can conjure up a romantic version of such a life, it is not nearly as appealing to me as staying here or going all the way back home. I find myself engrossed in this element of Weiss’ story and wishing that it could be so simple for me (the beauty of reading another person’s story, right?).

I’ve got my coping mechanisms for urban living all set up, but there is an underlying philosophy that guides me through my days in the city. Living with my country mouse of a husband has brought this philosophy more to the fore front of my mind as I am drawn into debates about why things are the way they are here. But being amongst family members living a small town kind of life, and thinking about my childhood now with the analytical capabilities of an adult, have left me wanting to clarify this mental approach to life in the city a bit more.

There is a complexity to urban life that I really enjoy. The way that so many different people share a small space and in so doing are forced to improve upon themselves is stimulating and interesting to me. I like how life in the city forces me into change. I have my introverted tendencies to be sure, and I think that is why I like the city. Because I’m surrounded by people, the environment sort of makes up for the gap that my personality would tend to create. More specifically, I like that I’m forced to compromise, have patience, empathy, and compassion. And in the midst of all that work, I can put in a hard day (or decade, is more like it) of dream work, and end up with something approaching the life that I’ve always envisioned for myself.

In a smaller kind of place, be it a town, the country, or a less populated urban area, there simply aren’t as many options for who to be, nor so many challenges to be more of who you are. In order to have a reasonably peaceful life, a person has to pick a way of being that fits into what others think of as acceptable. And while there may be more of a tendency for everybody to know everybody else’s business, there simply is more room to hide away with oneself. Put another way, there are not nearly the opportunities for personal growth and expansion. (Embedded in that notion is the assumption that personal growth and expansion are most easily won through relationships, perhaps there is another way of which I am unaware.) While I’ve chosen mostly traditional ways of life for myself, I have enough off-beat tendencies and interests to lead me into too many awkward social situations in a place where people are used to a lot of personal space and a lot of sameness. I much prefer to be in a place where abnormal is the accepted normal.

As I reflect on my Detroit memories, and draw more adult conclusions about what was probably going on for the adults who were shaping the life that I was so fond of, I realize that in their own ways, they must have been grappling with these issues. Clearly personal philosophy, broader trends of culture and society, and personal desires all meet up uniquely for each of us individual humans. But there is also the magical something that only comes together through our joint efforts and intentions. I’d venture to say that every populous is thriving or declining as a result of its mojo reserves. (It seems to me that Detroit could use a big shot of that kind of mojo.) And furthermore, that each of us, everyday, wakes up to our place on the planet and makes a choice about how we are going to contribute. Shall we throw our hat into the ring, or throw in the towel? Shall we stay and do either? Or shall we go and do neither?

I feel like I’ve been walking this line most of my life and while I seem to do okay with the level of uncertainty that comes in hand with such a predicament, I am beginning to have the feeling that maybe someday it would be nice to know for sure and for good, where am I really going to give it my all for the long haul? Perhaps this is just a passing notion given my current mental dabblings. Perhaps not, and at some point my husband and I will have the sort of collective reckoning that Zadie Smith so artfully described in White Teeth (remember the scene between the two boys once they were back in the same city? Perfect! I’ll never forget what she conjured up).

I suppose for now I can take comfort in the fact that Detroit taught me to be careful where I call home. To be sure that I’m in it, 150% and that I’m willing to go long mile after long mile for my little spot of comfort on this big planet. We each have different things to learn in life, perhaps this is one of my things. For now, I have plenty to keep me occupied, a home that I love with a family that I wouldn’t trade for anything. For now and I suspect, for always, transition reigns in at least some corner of my life.

Home for the Holidays

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It’s thanksgiving and given my current project of reflecting on my hometown, I’m feeling reminiscent about what that used to mean for me when I was a kid. And given that I wasn’t able to show Adele this particular parcel of my Detroit memories, I figure that today is the perfect day to write about it instead.

In Detroit, Thanksgiving morning was the morning that Santa appeared at the end of Hudson’s spectacular Thanksgiving Day Santa Parade. Now that Christmas decorations go up around Halloween, it bears mentioning that Santa officially ushered in the holiday season. (I’m personally not religious, despite my upbringing, but I love Christmas. Everything that I love about Christmas falls into the secular category of traditions and it’s dawning on me that I have Hudson’s to thank for that.)

The holiday season at Hudson’s was absolutely astoundingly magnificent. And now, given what some might call my overuse of adjectives, I feel compelled to explain further. I’ve been searching around on the internet and I can’t find anything that comes close to conveying just how amazing the Hudson’s store decorations were. There are some fun accounts to be sure, and reading peoples comments to posts has filled in some gaps for my memory. But I simply cannot believe that nobody else was as taken by the Santas of the world exhibit as was I. I remember a large space, a hallway, I think, that was magically lit and completely filled with incredibly large and beautiful exhibits, each one showing country’s around the world (well, okay, it was probably mostly European countries) versions of Santa. I was transfixed. What little memory I have, I will never forget. And I will always love Santa Claus. (In answer to my deep and abiding love for Santa, I have given a lot of thought as to what is the best way to introduce him to my kids and so at the risk of stating the obvious, I plan to read them the definitive biography.)

It just so happened that the parade route was directly in front of my dad’s church which I attended along with him (I also attended my mom’s church, so I myself had two homes away from home, so to speak). Given that I now live in a place where temperatures in the sixties late in November, it seems important to mention that it was usually very cold on Thanksgiving morning. Especially cold if your planned activity was going to be standing along the street for a few hours, and you had to arrive extra early to ensure a good spot. So it was pretty special to have a home base right on the route, I mean right on the street, with a porch overlooking the street (no shoulders or homemade risers needed), a great big bell up in the bell tower to ring, and unlimited donuts and hot chocolate.

I suppose that parades may be a thing of the past now. To see characters come to life right in front of one’s eyes isn’t nearly as incredible as it used to be when such things weren’t so available. And while I think that it’s an exercise in futility to bemoan one’s timing in the scape of human history it seems rather inevitable when reminiscing. And so it is with a sentimental heart that I sign off to, cook, and then drive, and then eat.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Welcome Santa Claus! Happily, once again, your season has arrived!

Two other Hudson’s links that I found interesting

http://departmentstoremuseum.blogspot.com/2010/05/j-l-hudson-co-detroit-michigan.html

http://www.amazon.com/Remembering-Hudsons-Detroit-Retailing-Publishing/dp/0738583669/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1353028911&sr=8-1&keywords=remembering+hudsons

Road Glee

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This morning I laughed out loud at a bumper sticker. I just love when that happens. As I reveled in my gaiety I realized how grateful I was for people who decorate their bumpers with thoughts that I find funny.

Lest I forget what I read this morning, here it is:

“Where are we going and why are we in a hand basket?”

And even though I’ll probably never forget this one, I could not write a post on this topic without mentioning it:

“I’m going nucking futs”

(this is particularly funny to me given my father’s long time love of spoonerisms, and not so honorable, but rather frequent use of the curse word featured in this particular one. It just so happens to be my personal favorite much to my husband’s chagrin and I’m sure mine once I hear my little carry on the family tradition.)

Although I’m not sure if there are any readers out there…Happy Thanksgiving! Here’s to a day with gleeful travels and full bellies!

Deeeeetroit!

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I’ve been working on my survey of what I love most about Detroit, which is to say, my walk down memory lane. Although I’ve got seven single-spaced pages written, I’ve only barely scratched the surface. I like to be thorough, and so I’ve realized that perhaps I ought to publish this adventure that Adele and I took little by little.

It’s been a joy to share my memories of childhood and I’ve learned some things along the way, as I’ve thought and reflected in conversation with the wise and thoughtful people who I have the benefit of knowing. So here it all is together, past and present and a little sprinkle of future throughout.

Detroit is where I spent my days as a kid. Detroit is where my heart opened wide to take in a world of fun experiences and where I learned that life is meant to be thoroughly enjoyed. I may have left Detroit long ago, but as I’ve delved into this project, I’ve realized more than ever before just how much Detroit lives on in my heart.

We were members of the now shut down Detroit Boat Club . I spent most afternoons there poolside. I loved the mints in the dining room which I’ve never had any place else. There was a bridge over the middle of the olympic sized pool and I would trek across it to the snack bar to get a nutty buddy ice cream cone at the snack bar, yum. It was always fun to see what superhero would be painted on the bottom of the kids pool at the beginning of pool season. I’ve never been a thrill seeker, so I was willing to jump off the high dive, but never in a million years would I have gone head first. From the side of the pool, let alone from ten meters in the air (I’m guessing on that height, because I wasn’t able to measure it myself)! Oh and that mote that guests had to cross over to enter the clubhouse? Our dog loved to paddle around in it much to my youthful delight. The super-fastidious adult who I’ve become would not take nearly so much pleasure in the aftermath of a real doggie paddle in the Detroit River – ick!

Sailing has been a part of my life since I was born, thanks to both my parents. My mom was one of the first women to join the elite group of yachters at the Detroit Boat Club – they didn’t let gals join until 1975!!! – and a friend of ours was one of the gutsy gals who changed the sign on the Belle Isle bridge to be gender neutral: “Gentle Yachters, watch your wake.” It all happened on a dark and stormy night, and makes a great story to be retold year after year. It’s best when enjoyed over a slice of Niki’s Pizza and Vernor’s ginger ale (which I’m pretty sure only a Michigander knows how to sip gingerly, pardon the pun).

But guess what?! Vernor’s is under new ownership, just like Stroh’s beer. I haven’t tried either, but I’m guessing like so many things, it won’t be quite the same (could be the aging effect on my taste buds or minuscule yet important changes in how its made, who knows). Ah, the constancy of change! Talking about change, DBC folded long ago. Which is sad on many levels, mostly though, because the kid in me is wondering about those mints…

My mom joined the Detroit Yacht Club once I’d left for college. She missed sailing on the Detroit river and was quite involved in the Flying Scot program there for a good while (she suffered a couple accidents which left her less inclined to race as often). Now we have a fun place to visit on the Belle Isle, and so our little Detroit excursion started there. But not at the members-only-yacht-club, no we began with a place much more in step with the Detroit of today, and what I hope will be the future of Detroit: the newly re-opened Belle Isle Aquarium .

It’s a beautiful facility, which I think captures the spirit of Detroit in its burgeoning days, back when I imagine that it was striving to win the honor of being commonly referred to as the Paris of the mid-west (or something like that). Here’s what I think is really cool about the Aquarium: it’s now being run completely by volunteers. You know, those good Detroit people, I mentioned. There is also a lovely flower conservatory overlooking a lovingly tended garden.

If you sit on the benches (as I did for a milk-break) you will enjoy a lovely view of the Detroit skyline off in the distance with the garden in the foreground. You’ll have to either take my word for it or go and sit on that bench yourself, my hands were full of baby.  I must confess that I spent precious little time in the aquarium because I was taking a few photos of my favorite Belle Isle sights and by the time I returned, our little man had made it quite clear that he was not a fan of the fish. He much preferred playing in the leaves out in the garden, and really who can blame him for that? We did have the benefit of seeing the caring volunteer forces in action as we visited the aquarium on the very day that the koi were being moved to their indoor pond for the winter months.

While my little boy was getting freaked out by the fish, I wanted to show Adele the beautiful Detroit skyline, and as far as I know the best views are from Detroit’s pretty island park.  (see above)

I was also eager to show Adele my inner child’s version of a thrill: the giant slide.

Of course it looks smaller now, and I remember some elements differently. But it’s still big, and being that I’m not much of a thrill seeker, once was enough for a lifetime of memories.

Stay tuned for more reminiscence of Belle Isle and the beautiful Detroit across the river…