Striezelmarkt (Christmas market) in Dresden--photos

 

The politics of revenge (aka politics practiced by idiots)

This will be a short post, because I don't want to focus on negativity during the Christmas season. But it's also important to point out that we need a seismic shift in American politics away from revenge (tit for tat) politics and idiocy, toward balanced politics based on common sense, decency and intelligence. I wonder if that will ever happen, but God knows I'm hoping. Perhaps Santa will bear the latter down the chimneys of all of the politicians currently serving (I'm including a number of European politicians as well). 

How did we get here? I've asked that question many times. The great divide. The great disconnect. Why is it impossible for American politicians to meet somewhere in the middle without having apoplectic reactions on both sides? He said this, she said that, so I have to take revenge. Hasn't the American public gotten tired of being screamed at, lectured to, derided, insulted and otherwise treated badly by its politicians? Or do they just no longer care? Just asking. Because the current situation is likely to usher in someone who will take charge in a way that will no longer seem democratic. That person will crush all those who oppose him (or her). Think it can't happen? Think again. We are moving toward autocracy. I say wake up before it is too late.  

Summing up 2023, political cartoon-style

Sometimes the political cartoons sum up just about everything you've been thinking (or worrying) about.....

Lights shine at Yonkers park for Grand Holiday Illumination

I've written about Untermyer Park and Gardens before in previous posts (A New Yorker in Oslo: Untermyer park and gardens (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com) and A New Yorker in Oslo: Two gardens worth visiting--Untermyer Gardens and the New York Botanical Garden (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com).     

I would love to see the Gardens lit up for Christmas, but for now, I'm posting a CBS news report about the Grand Holiday illumination. Enjoy!!

Silent Night - Mannheim Steamroller (Official Music Video - 1984)

My brother Ray, who passed away almost nine years ago, introduced me to Mannheim Steamroller back in the 1980s. My sister recently reminded me that he really liked this song. It's a beautiful and touching rendition of Silent Night. I can't listen to it without tearing up. 

Travels in Europe--an unexpected and rather nightmarish adventure

I made plans with my friend Haika (from my Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center days) to visit the Christmas market in Dresden Germany, something she's always wanted to do. We planned the trip for the early part of December, a time period which is usually best given our usual Christmas schedules and preparations. We decided to meet in Dresden on December 8th and leave on December 12th, which would give us three whole days in Dresden to explore the market and perhaps see a bit of the city. I looked online for direct flights to Dresden from Oslo but there were none. The next best thing was to fly via KLM from Oslo to Amsterdam and then get a connecting flight from Amsterdam to Dresden, which I booked. 

December 8th arrived and my husband drove me to Oslo airport. The weather was cold but otherwise fine. Snow was predicted but not until late in the afternoon. Except for a slight delay, our flight to Amsterdam took off as scheduled. But while I was sitting at the gate waiting to board, passengers got the news that the Amsterdam to Dresden flight was cancelled. No reason was given, although the KLM website attributed this to weather conditions--thick heavy fog at Amsterdam Schiphol Airport. I later found out another and more likely reason--a baggage worker slowdown and chronic understaffing. That was probably the major reason for the cancellations, because as it turned out, many flights leaving from Schiphol airport had been cancelled on December 7th, and those passengers were rebooked for December 8th flights. Many December 8th flights were cancelled and rebooked for December 9th (my flight to Dresden being one of them). 

I was informed via a text message from KLM that I was rebooked on the December 9th flight, and that I had to retrieve my luggage in Amsterdam, but it was not on the carousel. I went to the baggage service desk and was told that it had been moved to a storage area for my rebooked flight on the 9th (that I had not yet agreed to). Since it was now at that location, I was not allowed to get my luggage back. The woman at the desk was most unhelpful and rude, and I told her exactly what I thought of her and her airline. I filed a lost baggage claim form online on the off chance that my luggage was lost and not relocated, and asked that if it was found, that it be sent to the hotel where I was to stay in Dresden.  Considering the absolute mess that Schiphol airport became on the day I arrived, I had zero belief that my suitcase would be with me on my rebooked flight. I also had begun to disbelieve that the flight to Dresden would actually happen. Schiphol airport (I have another name for the airport that sounds like Schiphol, but I won't write it here) was inundated on that day with passengers who had been stranded in Amsterdam for one and even two days. I met several people who had plans with family and friends that were disrupted due to the cancellations. I fell into that category since my friend was flying from Michigan and had planned to arrive in Dresden on Friday afternoon. Our flights were supposed to get into Dresden around the same time, and we had planned to travel to the hotel together. It was not to be. 

Thank God for WhatsApp. I was in continual communication with Haika, so that she knew what was going on. Her flight from Michigan to Frankfurt to Dresden arrived in Dresden on Friday afternoon on time, so she got to the hotel in the mid-afternoon of December 8th, which was good because she was tired and needed to sleep. But she was experiencing a problem of her own; her luggage had not made it onto the plane from Frankfurt to Dresden, and it didn't end up arriving at the hotel until Saturday evening, so she was without a change of clothes (as I was) from Friday afternoon until Saturday evening.  

At this point, I stood in the airport, knowing I had several options: accept the rebooking for the following day and find a hotel to stay in at the airport overnight; try to find a train from Amsterdam to Dresden; or try to find a bus from Amsterdam to Dresden. And had I wanted to wait on line for four or five hours with hundreds of other stranded and displaced passengers, I could have argued with KLM customer service about getting my suitcase returned to me (I wisely chose not to do that after waiting one hour in a line that did not move forward at all). There was no bus service from Amsterdam to Dresden, but there was train service (an overnight train that would have been perfect). So I booked a train ticket online; the trip was to have taken about 10 hours and would have gotten me into Dresden around 8:30 am on Saturday morning. But when I got to the train station in Amsterdam, I was told that the train workers in Germany were going on strike as of that very evening. So I could not take the train as the trip was cancelled. I decided at that point to accept the KLM rebooking and to find an airport hotel for the night. All of the searches, bookings, cancellations and communications were of course done via my cell phone, which was gradually losing battery charge over the course of Friday afternoon. There were no charging stations that I could see at Schiphol airport in the general area (in 2023!). One of the salespeople told me I could charge my phone in the ladies room using the electrical socket there. So I did. That allowed me to book the Ibis Budget hotel located at the airport. Luckily, there was a shuttle bus to take me there, and once I was ensconced in my hotel room, I charged my phone and then set about trying to find something to eat. That proved to be possible, thank God. The hotel was very nice. At least I had a place to charge my devices as well as relax and get a decent night's sleep. At this point, I had used most of Friday just to travel to Amsterdam, and I knew that I would use most of Saturday to get to Dresden one way or another. 

The rebooked KLM flight was however not flying to Dresden, but to Berlin. So I had to find a way to get from Berlin to Dresden. Luckily, there is bus service (Flix) from Berlin to Dresden, so I booked a ticket after cancelling my train ticket and requesting a refund. I reserved an 8 pm bus trip for Saturday evening that would have gotten me into Dresden at around 10 pm on Saturday evening. I had to get myself from Berlin Brandenburg airport to the Flix bus station, which was about a thirty-minute taxi ride, and needed enough time to do that. I got a taxi to the Flix station at around 7:30 pm, but as it turned out, my 8 pm bus trip was cancelled and rescheduled to 9:30 pm the same evening. That was at least something. I waited two hours in a crappy bus station for the 9:30 pm trip. As (bad) luck would have it, my reserved seat on the 9:30 pm bus was broken, and none of the Flix employees including the driver were at all helpful in trying to find me another seat or in trying to fix the broken one. I waited until all the passengers had boarded at all the scheduled stops and then found a vacant seat. Luckily there was one. I arrived in Dresden at 12:20 am on Sunday morning and got a taxi to my hotel. Haika was still awake when I got there. Once I got there and once we were together, I managed to unwind and was hopeful that I could put the entire travel insanity behind me. I did decide however that I am never flying into Schiphol airport again. As in ever. I simply lost all faith in KLM and that they wouldn't cancel my return flight from Dresden to Oslo via Amsterdam. As it was, I saw that more flights had been cancelled at Schiphol on December 11th, which did not bode well for the 12th, the day I was to leave Dresden. This meant that I had to find another airline/flight to get home on the 12th. Luckily, I found a direct flight from Berlin to Oslo on Norwegian Air and I booked it. I also booked a Flix bus that left Dresden at 7:30 am on the 12th that traveled directly to Berlin airport; it did not get cancelled and it was on time. Thankfully, my return home was problem-free and easy. As it should have been for the trip to Dresden. It took me two days of traveling to get to Dresden, and less than half a day to return to Oslo. What's wrong with this picture?

It amazes me in this day and age that we are expected to accept living in a paperless society where all sorts of boarding passes, reminders, etc. are sent to our phones as texts or emails or apps that have to be downloaded. Yet a busy major airport like Schiphol makes no effort to have several hundred charging stations spread throughout the airport and not just at the gates. I find that very strange and totally unacceptable. I feel the same way about the Amsterdam Central train station--no charging stations anywhere, and that was confirmed by one of the train station employees. What is wrong with Amsterdam? I thought it was a progressive city. I have so many viewpoints to share and I'll do so in my next post. I also want to write about my visit with Haika and the Dresden Christmas market, since we had a wonderful time there. It made up for the travel nightmare and it gave me back my Christmas spirit, which I had just about lost. 

More books that influenced and changed my ways of thinking

I discovered C.S. Lewis when I was in my early teens, when I read his sci-fi adventure series The Space Trilogy (aka The Cosmic Trilogy), which was comprised of Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength. The discovery of Lewis was for me a true gift, because I later discovered that he also wrote books having to do with spiritual themes and the difficulties of life. He wrote The Screwtape Letters, which is one of the books (published in 1942) that has stayed with me to this day. It is a satirical Christian apologetic novel dealing with the relationship between two demons, Screwtape, an experienced senior demon and the head demon of Hell, and Wormwood, an inexperienced junior demon who is trying to recruit his first soul to Hell. Wormwood is schooled by Screwtape via a series of letters in which Screwtape tries to impart his wisdom as to how to tempt humans such that they end in Hell. The descriptions of the landscape of Hell and of who is found there and why, made a huge impression on me. I remember reading it and being amazed by the genius of Lewis' writing. It is a novel that will definitely make you think about the ideas of sin, hell, heaven, temptation, evil, and the actual sins that humans commit that threaten their souls. 

A Grief Observed is another book written by C.S.Lewis, published in 1961, following the death of his wife Joy Davidman from cancer. It is an honest, raw exploration and description of his grief and despair at losing someone he loved very much. It details his doubts about his faith and his anger at God about losing her, as well as his understanding that he is but one of many who has suffered in this way. I read it when I was in my early twenties; by that time, I was no stranger to the realities of illness and death of loved ones. It is a book that I recommend to others who have lost loved ones to illness and death. Lewis wrote many other excellent books dealing with spiritual themes, among them Surprised by Joy, Mere Christianity, The Great Divorce, The Four Loves, and The Problem of Pain. I recommend them all. 

My mid-twenties brought with them major life changes, none of which were particularly happy. But as often is the case, the painful occurrences in life are the ones that help to bring about necessary change, and that was the case for me. But before that happened, I experienced a lot of doubt, anxiety, and internal conflict. I don't remember how I found out about The Meaning of Anxiety by Rollo May, published in 1950, perhaps it was via my father who thought highly of his writing. All I know is that the book was immensely helpful in changing my way of thinking about anxiety; it made me realize that anxiety preceded change and that it was part of the process of change, not necessarily something to be avoided. May was not talking about crippling anxiety, rather about a kind of free-floating anxiety that is part of the human condition. Reading his book was a life-changing experience for me. 

I discovered Henry James when I was in my twenties. His novel, The Portrait of a Lady, published in 1881, is the story of Isabel Archer, a free-spirited young American woman who inherits a lot of money and who subsequently finds herself trapped in a prison of her own making--marriage to an egotistical and mean-spirited man who loves her only for her money. Her suffering is compounded by the fact that there were two men who really did love her and whom she turned down as suitors, choosing instead a man who did not love her. It is an interesting novel in that it reflects James' exploration of the psyche of a young woman who loses her independence gradually and who becomes a pawn in the schemes of her husband and his mistress. His description of her marriage to this man will make your blood run cold; I have never come across a better description of a bad marriage, and this from a man (James) who never married. Recommended reading. 

When we were young, there were some books that we were told we could not read or that were kept from us because they dealt with adult themes (mostly sexual in nature). Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H.Lawrence was one of those books. It was first published privately in 1928 in Italy; after publication of the unexpurgated version in England in 1960, it was considered obscene for its frank description of the sexual relationship between a married upper-class young woman and the gamekeeper on her husband's estate. Her husband had become paralyzed from the waist down following a war injury (that occurred after they were married) and subsequently would not pursue any sexual relationship with her. He did encourage her to discretely take a lover so that she could produce an heir for the family, something she was initially reluctant to do. I did not find the book to be obscene in any way, unless you get hung up on the language used between the lovers. It was clear to me why the book was considered so groundbreaking in its presentation of sexuality. Lawrence was clearly interested in depicting a sexual relationship between a man and a woman that was physically pleasurable and spiritually satisfying. His viewpoint was that this type of relationship was possible and desirable, and that it formed the basis of real love. Not surprisingly, that view did not sit well with the moral gatekeepers at that time. Some aspects of the novel are controversial, but in my opinion, it is not the frank sexuality portrayed, rather the mores of the time--encouraging a wife to take a lover to produce an heir, the refusal of the husband to engage in any sort of sexual activity with his wife so that she could become pregnant, the physical (and ultimately emotional) abandonment of the wife by the husband, and her eventual abandonment of him. Both plodded on in a loveless dead marriage until the wife could no longer do so. It is an amazingly liberating novel to read, even by today's standards. 

Count your Blessings (Instead of Sheep) from the film White Christmas

The 1954 film White Christmas is a sweet and sentimental film to be sure, one that's worth watching. I had seen it many years ago but didn't remember it. We watched it the other night and I really enjoyed it. It will join my list of Christmas films to watch each year. The song Count Your Blessings (Instead of Sheep) was written for the film by Irving Berlin, who wrote the songs for the film. Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sing this beautiful song. I'm including the lyrics here:

Count Your Blessings (Instead of Sheep) 

When I'm worried and I can't sleep

I count my blessings instead of sheep

And I fall asleep counting my blessings

When my bankroll is getting small

I think of when I had none at all

And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads

And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds

If you're worried and you can't sleep

Just count your blessings instead of sheep

And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

If you're worried and you can't sleep

Just count your blessings instead of sheep

And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

The small trials of winter

It's been a while since my last post, and that's mostly due to illness in our household. Even though we've taken the vaccines against Covid and this year's influenza, that doesn't stop regular colds, sinusitis, bronchitis or any of the other winter illnesses from rearing their irritating heads. I so prefer the other seasons, mostly because we don't have to deal with all of these illnesses. Well, sometimes an occasional summer cold. I find it hard to believe that we made it through a pandemic back in 2020 and 2021. We managed to avoid Covid until June 2021, although I can't say that it was worse than some of the major colds we've had. We were apparently lucky. But it's interesting that we weren't sick during the winters of 2020 or 2021, most likely due to lockdowns and the like. I don't want to go back to that time, of course. But I would like to be illness-free. 

When I was younger, I was susceptible to getting bronchitis. I've had some wicked rounds with bronchitis--coughing so intensely that I cracked two small rib bones. I remember one year (1993) vividly; I lived on antibiotics from November until February. Coughing was extremely painful with broken ribs, not an experience I care to repeat. But the worst bout of illness I've ever had was in 2004, when I got a flu that knocked me out completely. It took me months to recover; the worst part of it was the fever and the chills, but also the total lack of energy. Flus are nasty illnesses and that experience pushed me to take the flu vaccine each subsequent year.

I have friends who are dealing with RSV, bronchitis, sinusitis (also very painful) and regular colds. All of us are getting older. My good friend who recently passed away was stricken by Covid; although her neurological illness would have eventually taken her, it was Covid that ended her life. I guess the immune system weakens as we age. I guess we just have to deal with it. 

When I was younger, I never understood why older people traveled to warmer climates during the wintertime. Now I know why. I don't know if one avoids all the respiratory illnesses that way, but one certainly avoids all the other pitfalls of winter--snow, ice, intense cold. Here is the city of Oslo, they've gotten better about cleaning the sidewalks and throwing down some gravel after a snowstorm, but that doesn't prevent the remaining snow from caking and becoming ice. The sidewalks can be slippery. I'd like to reclaim my joyous love of winter that I had as a child, but I do believe it's long gone. And since I became a garden enthusiast, I know how I want to spend most of my days. In the garden. I can't do that in winter. 

Thank God for the month of December--we have Christmas to look forward to and all the preparations leading up to it are enjoyable for the most part. So I focus on that, and not on the small irritations and trials of winter. But because this past summer was neither sunny nor warm, I didn't get my usual dose of sun and warmth that gets me through the winter. So in January I'm heading to Florida for a week together with my friend Jean, and I'm looking forward to that! 

An interesting perspective on toxic people

"Not all toxic people are cruel and uncaring. Some of them love us dearly. Many of them have good intentions. Most are toxic to our being simply because their needs and way of existing in the world force us to compromise ourselves and our happiness. They aren’t inherently bad people, but they aren’t the right people for us. And as hard as it is, we have to let them go. Life is hard enough without being around people who bring you down, and as much as you care, you can’t destroy yourself for the sake of someone else. You have to make your wellbeing a priority. Whether that means breaking up with someone you care about, loving a family member from a distance, letting go of a friend, or removing yourself from a situation that feels painful — you have every right to leave and create a safer space for yourself."

--Daniell Koepke (from the book Daring to Take Up Space)

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We've all found ourselves in situations created by toxic people. Many of us have lived in toxic situations for years before doing something about them. I know that includes me. Earlier in my life, I struggled with how I should deal with toxic people, people whose sole priority was themselves, no matter what. Letting go of them or of the behaviors that fed them, was very difficult but absolutely necessary. Every time I feel that I'm in the presence of what I call an emotional vampire, every time the alarm bells go off inside my head and heart so loudly that I cannot ignore them, I know it's time to establish boundaries and to prioritize my own wellbeing. Sometimes it takes many years to realize this. I am always happy when I meet someone who has figured this out in a much shorter amount of time than it took me. Being a nice person does not mean being a doormat for others, either in one's personal life or in one's work life. I cannot emphasize this enough. So I don't know if I agree with Koepke when she says that some toxic people love us dearly. If you don't understand yourself well enough to know that are behaving in ways that hurt others continually, then you don't really love others. In any case, I would say--distance yourself from toxic people or don't stay in personal or work situations that wear you down, destroy your self-esteem, or hurt you. Distance yourself from or don't stay with people who gaslight you, blame you for things that are not your fault, or tell you that you're not being your usual nice self. Turn on your heel and go. 

A good poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

PITY THE NATION

by Lawrence Ferlinghetti (After Khalil Gibran) 2007

Pity the nation whose people are sheep
And whose shepherds mislead them

Pity the nation whose leaders are liars
Whose sages are silenced
And whose bigots haunt the airwaves

Pity the nation that raises not its voice
Except to praise conquerors
And acclaim the bully as hero
And aims to rule the world
By force and by torture

Pity the nation that knows
No other language but its own
And no other culture but its own

Pity the nation whose breath is money
And sleeps the sleep of the too well fed

Pity the nation oh pity the people
who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away

My country, tears of thee
Sweet land of liberty!

copyright Lawrence Ferlingetti

Books that influenced and changed my ways of thinking

I've been thinking about some of the books I've read that have had a profound and permanent influence on me, in the sense that they changed my way of thinking and looking at things. Perhaps I was psychologically ready for those changes at the time I read them. Nevertheless, these books provided a spur that was necessary at the time. Some of the changes set me on brighter, happier paths, while others ushered in an acknowledgment that the world could be a melancholy and evil place. Some helped me deal with issues that I was going through at the time I read them. There are twenty books on my list; I will write about five each over the next four posts. 

A Candle in Her Room by Ruth M. Arthur. A book from my pre-teen years that is impossible to forget. Written in 1966, it is the story of four generations of women who come into contact with an evil doll that has the capability of altering personalities and behavior. The evil behavior encompasses deceit, betrayal, manipulation, and lust for power. Looking back, I don't think this is a book for children, more for teenagers. But when I remember back to my pre-teen years, I think the book was an eye-opener. It was an introduction to the existence of evil in the world and it showed me that even those my age could have questionable motives and evil intentions. 

The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury. A sci-fi novel, one of the first I ever read, that chronicles mankind's exploration and colonization of Mars. The sense of foreboding in some of the chapters, especially when humans first settle on Mars and meet the Martians, who seem at first to be welcoming, is palpable. One of the scenes I will always remember--the Martians had lured the humans into a false sense of security by being hospitable and recreating scenes of earthly life, but their actual plans for the humans were nefarious. An unsettling book that describes deceit and evil behavior, and a sense of foreboding--as in, what bad thing will happen now? 

 
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I've read the book and seen several movie versions of it. It is impossible not to be affected by the redemption of Ebenezer Scrooge from a heartless miser to a warm-hearted and generous old man after being visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, respectively. It is a classic in the truest sense of the word, a book that leaves one with the knowledge that forgiveness and personal redemption are possible and that there is always hope that good will prevail. 

Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy. The ending of this novel was like a punch in the stomach. I remember telling my father that Jude's life was the definition of injustice. How much despair and tragedy could one life contain? In Hardy's view, there were apparently no limits to the misery one life could contain. My friend Brendan read the book and wrote to me 'obscure, indeed'. Hardy uses the word 'obscure' to describe Jude; Jude was an unknown and relatively unimportant player in the society around him, to the women in his life, and to the universe at large. Unable to be with the woman he loved (Sue) and trapped into marriage by a woman who pretended to be pregnant and who did not love him (Arabella), Jude's fate was sealed. Arabella had no scruples (commits bigamy), Sue had too many (felt guilty for all her choices for happiness). Although Jude and Sue had some years of happiness living together, they paid for that happiness in tragic ways. Hardy's book is a rather despairing commentary on love, the institution of marriage, societal norms, and church laws, all of which could be and were twisted in this novel to bring about oppressive unhappiness. It's almost as though if you tried to choose happiness, you were doomed to fail, doomed to regret, doomed to feeling guilty about wanting to be happy in love and life. The novel also questions whether personal happiness and personal choice were really possible and whether personal fate is determined or undetermined. The novel's viewpoints challenged my ideas at the time about love, marriage and happy ever after. 

The Road Less Traveled by M.Scott Peck. The discovery of this book was life-changing for me. I've recommended it to so many people over the years. The wisdom contained within its pages is priceless. Peck was a psychiatrist and had seen and listened to a lot of patients; he subsequently wrote another book called People of the Lie, which fascinated and scared me since it dealt with people who live in the dark and shy away from the light--evil people, psychopaths, narcissists--the list is long. The Road Less Traveled is more for ordinary folk dealing with the problems and difficulties of life. As Peck clearly states 'Life is difficult'. I read it at a time of great upheaval in my own life, and it really did help to set me on a better path, because I realized that I could change, that change was possible if I took responsibility for my own life. It sounds cliched, but it's not. Peck's view is that real spiritual and intellectual growth take time, but you have to desire them. You have to choose to desire them and do the hard work required in order to achieve them. 

Sweet moments in time

Tonight on my way home from church, I thought of Paul, the older blind man I met in September on the train to Grand Central Station. He got on the train at Scarsdale if I remember correctly; his seeing-eye dog, a sweet black labrador, led the way onto the train from the platform and immediately started sniffing/looking about for a free seat. I was minding my own business when suddenly I felt a nudge under my right armpit (I was sitting in an aisle seat). It was a dog, but not just any dog. I was about to give up my seat when I saw that the seat opposite me was free, and the seeing-eye dog discovered that too. So they took that seat. When the conductor came around asking for tickets, Paul showed him his wallet, which must have contained some sort of monthly pass. The dog was at his feet, not blocking the aisle. It was apparent that they trusted each other and that they had traveled on the train before since the dog knew what to do.  

I didn't find out the man's name until we exited the train. I waited until most of our compartment had emptied out, and then I followed Paul and his dog off the train. I knew that he was going to wait for an MTA train rep to come and guide him to his connecting train because I heard him telling the conductor that he needed that kind of assistance. The conductor said he would arrange it. But I had already decided that I was going to wait with him until the rep showed up, if he wanted me to, because I wasn't sure how long it would take for the rep to arrive. Once we had exited the train, I spoke to Paul and told him that I would wait with him until the rep showed up if he wanted me to, and he said yes and thanked me. He asked me my name and I told him, and he told me his name was Paul. At this point the dog was sniffing and licking my fingers, so it was apparent that he trusted me. Paul commented on the similarity of our names--Paul and Paula--and that it was unusual. It was for sure. It was almost as though our meeting was meant to happen. 

I have a soft spot in my heart for the blind, I always have. I remember my mother telling us children that her mother went blind in her old age, probably from glaucoma, since there was no treatment for it back in the 1940s (her mother died in the early 1950s). My mother lived with her mother and took care of her until her death. She told us that they would walk to church together, my mother guiding her along the sidewalk. Sometimes the events that occurred were humorous, other times not. My mother seemed to take it all in stride, as did her mother. I know people now who are losing their vision, or who had neurological diseases that robbed them of their sight. Macular degeneration, glaucoma, retinitis pigmentosa. It must be difficult to have spent most of your life seeing, and then suddenly lose your vision when you get old. Luckily our society has organizations that help the blind. I support those organizations, one of which is the Norwegian Association Of The Blind (Norges Blindeforbund). They recently built a new school for the training of seeing-eye dogs. 

I'm glad I met Paul and his dog. It made my day. A sweet moment in time that touched my heart for always. 

 

Seven Devils--Florence + The Machine

Another song that I heard for the first time tonight. Interesting lyrics, not what you'd automatically think they were about according to the songwriter(s), who has spoken about them online. I really like the imagery. 

Lyrics

Holy water cannot help you now

Thousand armies couldn't keep me out

I don't want your money

I don't want your crown

See, I've come to burn your kingdom down

Holy water cannot help you now

See, I've come to burn your kingdom down

And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out

I'm gonna raise the stakes

I'm gonna smoke you out

Seven devils all around me

Seven devils in my house

See, they were there when I woke up this morning

I'll be dead before the day is done

Seven devils all around you

Seven devils in your house

See, I was dead when I woke up this morning

I'll be dead before the day is done

Before the day is done

And now all your love will be exorcised

And we will find you saying it's to be better now

And it's an even sum

It's a melody

It's a battle cry

It's a symphony

Seven devils all around me

Seven devils in my house

See, they were there when I woke up this morning

I'll be dead before the day is done

Seven devils all around you

Seven devils in your house

See, I was dead when I woke up this morning

I'll be dead before the day is done

Before the day is done

Before the day is done

Before the day is done

They can keep me out

'Til I tear the walls

'Til I save your heart

And to take your soul

And what has been done

Cannot be undone

In the evil's heart

In the evil's soul

Seven devils all around you

Seven devils in your house

See, I was dead when I woke up this morning

I'll be dead before the day is done

Before the day is done

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Paul Epworth / Florence Welch

Seven Devils lyrics © Florence And The Machine Ltd., Emi Music Publishing Ltd

Band of Horses - Casual Party

I like the song, which I heard for the first time tonight, and the video is perfect for a Halloween party. 

Letting go of who people used to be--wise words from Heidi Priebe

I saw this online today and it resonated with me, despite the sadness contained therein. Whether it's growing old(er), becoming ill, becoming tired, wanting to give up--it is a blessing if those roads that people end up going down are shared with those they love, if those who love them want to join them on their journeys. That is not always the case for all. And it might be good to remember that we ourselves can let go of the people we used to be. Sometimes we hang onto them for dear life, thinking that we have to remain a certain way, when in truth we do not. Sometimes the people we were no longer serve us. We do not have to be accountable to the people we were in our twenties, thirties, forties, and so on. We can let go of them and be who we are in the present. Best to come to terms with who we were in order to embrace who we are now. Because now is all we have. 

To love someone long-term is to attend a thousand funerals of the people they used to be. The people they're too exhausted to be any longer. The people they grew out of, the people they never ended up growing into. We so badly want the people we love to get their spark back when it burns out, to become speedily found when they are lost.

But it is not our job to hold anyone accountable to the people they used to be. It is our job to travel with them between each version and to honor what emerges along the way. Sometimes it will be an even more luminescent flame. Sometimes it will be a flicker that temporarily floods the room with a perfect and necessary darkness. 

~Heidi Priebe (from her book: This Is Me Letting You Go)

Odds and ends

We're watching The Rockford Files these days, one of the better American tv detective series from the 1970s that ran from 1974 to 1980. I remember watching it sporadically back then; my mother was a fan of the show and of James Garner who played private detective Jim Rockford, and sometimes I watched it with her. Here in Norway it's available for streaming on SkyShowtime. We're only seven episodes into the first season, and the guest stars have been Lindsey Wagner, Susan Strasberg, Sian Barbara Allen, Gretchen Corbett, Roger Davis, James Woods--all actresses and actors I remember well from the 1970s and 1980s. 

Last night we watched Where Eagles Dare, an action-packed WWII thriller from 1968 starring Richard Burton and Clint Eastwood. I'd never seen it before, and it was well-worth watching. Pretty amazing scenes--fighting atop a cable car, climbing up the side of a castle--definitely not what you see everyday. It made me realize that some of the action films with Bruce Willis were definitely influenced by films such as this one. James Bond films as well. Enjoyable to watch, even though the body count in Where Eagles Dare was over the top. You don't forget for one minute that you're dealing with Nazi Germany and that the enemy has to be vanquished. 

I am drawn more and more to the older films and series, possibly because they are more enjoyable to watch than many of the newer films, even if they are less realistic. And if they deal with dark subject matter, they still manage not to sink into a morass of despair. I watch them and can then let them go after they're finished. I don't know if that's good or bad in the context of war films, but there are plenty of the latter that will leave you in a despairing frame of mind for a long time afterward. I watch them too, but it's hard to say I enjoy them. I can comment on them as quality films, well-acted films, etc. Realistic films. Where Eagles Dare is not a realistic film by any stretch of the imagination. In the same vein, we watched A Haunting in Venice two nights ago, Kenneth Branagh's new Agatha Christie film about Poirot who is now retired and living in Venice Italy. He is pulled out of retirement by an author friend of his to solve a presumed murder (that end up being multiple murders) in a spooky old house in Venice. Fun to watch, and again, the dark subject matter doesn't bring you down. I don't know how Agatha Christie did it, but she managed to write entertaining books about murders and murderers. Much like Dorothy Sayers. Both had a way of writing that drew you into the novels without burying you. 

Winter arrived early this past Monday. No one I know was ready for it psychologically. Too soon for snow and accumulation. Luckily most of the snow has melted due to the steady rain that we've had for the last twenty-four hours. But this has been the year for windiness. It seems like the wind has blown continually this year. I wish it would stop and I wish that the sun would shine more. But we're living in the era of climate change, so I'm not sure I can wish for anything of the sort.

Halloween was fun for the kids this year. But of course we always have the killjoys and the sourpusses, the ones who can't and won't let anyone off the hook for having a bit of fun. God forbid you should have some fun. How many articles I've read by young people/parents who criticize that 'American' Halloween has arrived in Norway and appears to have settled into the October repertoire. They resent having to spend money on costumes and candy. For the first, Halloween isn't originally an American holiday, but I'm not going to be bothered to get into that aspect of it. A young man I worked with years ago, who was studying to become a doctor, referred to some of his fellow students as people who walked around with rods up their rear ends. That's how I view some of the killjoys--stiff, uptight, unable to just 'let it go'. If they don't like it, no one else should, and by extension, no one else should be able to enjoy it.

Why can't more people just 'let it go' or 'live and let live?' Our society comments ad nauseam about everything under the sun. The more that gets criticized, the more I want to uphold and support all that gets criticized. I'm 'trassig' (defiant in English) that way. And I intend to remain defiant. 

And finally, I've switched off the ability to comment on my blog posts again due to a troll that leaves disturbing comments. Notice I refer to the troll as a 'that'. Not a 'who'. You never know these days. It could just be a robot or a non-human posing as a human. I thought I had set the filters correctly, perhaps I didn't. But if it's a human doing it, that person is an 'it' in my book. In any case, it's now a moot point. No more comments. 

Book review--The Beast and the Bethany books (1-3)

The Beast and the Bethany books (1-3) are books for pre-teens that don't disappoint in terms of their subject matter. Vainglorious egoist Ebenezer Tweezer has taken care of and served the huge beast in his attic with different kinds of food for over five hundred years. The beast has rewarded him with all of the material comforts one can think of as well with an elixir that keeps him young. But when the beast decides it wants to eat a child, Ebenezer finds himself in a bind, both morally and practically. Ebenezer goes on a search for a suitable child, and when he meets the bad-tempered orphan Bethany (that not even the orphanage wants), his dilemma is solved, or so he thinks. But when she comes to live with him, all hell breaks loose. A rude, destructive Bethany and an evil beast in the attic of Ebenezer's house can only lead to trouble. A lot of trouble. 

The author Jack Meggitt-Phillips has quite the imagination, and the books are easy to read, much as were JK Rowling's Harry Potter series of books. The pages just fly by. They are also surprising books given the world we live in at present; the beast decides it wants to eat a child after having developed a taste for humans. And before it gets around to Bethany, there are several humans that disappear down its gullet. But Bethany has other plans, once she finds out what's in store for her. Books 1-3 are a fun roller coaster ride into a strange world, where people (and parrots) travel via puddle portals, where rare parrots sing beautifully and lay eggs that contain all kinds of food, where material items vomited out by the beast have minds of their own. The author has been compared to Roald Dahl, which is apt, but I also found myself thinking of Neil Gaiman's books for children/young adults (The Ocean at the End of the Lane, Coraline). Book 4 remains, and from what I can judge of the ending for Book 3, we are moving toward a beast that has begun to develop a conscience after having spent time in prison and having its memory erased; it has begun to want to be a good beast. That will be an interesting ride. 

A good article that resonated with me

If you read one good article today, make it this one: Opinion | How to be Human - The New York Times (nytimes.com)  David Brooks, the author, writes about 'illuminators and diminishers', describing them in some detail in his article The Essential Skills for Being Human.      

The world sorely needs more illuminators and fewer diminishers. It needs more good listeners, more nurturers, more doers, and fewer narcissists and incessant talkers who never get around to doing anything at all. It needs more coaches who build others up, and fewer complainers and naggers who wear others down. It needs more people who care about others in the best way possible. 

You know when you've been in the presence of an illuminator. You feel energized (re-energized), hopeful, encouraged, and seen (as in recognized for who you are--validated). You feel as though a warm light, a warm ray of sunshine, has shone down upon you. You also know when you've been in the presence of a diminisher, because you feel de-energized, pessimistic, fearful, and invisible. Darkness has replaced the warm sunshine, and a cold wind blows. Diminishers are narcissists first; if you are looking for any type of validation from them, you can forget it. Your self-esteem around a diminisher will suffer a lot, which can be very detrimental for some people. 

Diminishers are controlling types, the type of people who say the following: 

• I wouldn't do it that way.  (in other words, Do it my way)
• I would never do that. You're wasting your time.  (I wouldn't waste my time)
• You shouldn't do that or feel that way.  (I don't do that or feel that way)
• It will never work out.  (So why bother? Don't waste your time)

Diminishers are only happy when others are fearful, or remain in a place of fear. Illuminators want to lift those around them out of fear into a place of light and peace. Illuminators compliment and build others up. Diminishers do the opposite. When you are happy about something, they are more likely to try to burst your balloon rather than let you be happy. They'll find a way to do it, to needle you, to get under your skin, to try to control you, to try and make you feel bad about yourself and what you do. They are invested in trying to bring you down. They try to control your choices, and when they realize that they cannot, they will try to whittle you 'down to size' if they are in the presence of someone strong enough to stand up to them. Why do diminishers behave the way they do? They diminish others because they suffer from envy, from dissatisfaction with their own lives, and from low self esteem, even if it seems the opposite is true when they are always talking about how great their own lives are. They are really focused on the lives of others, gossiping about them, complaining about them, trying to control them, competing with them in an unhealthy way, because their own lives border on unhappy or miserable. Does that mean we should have empathy for diminishers? Yes. But it does not mean that we should sacrifice our peace of mind and soul for them. Illuminators do not require your obedience, loyalty, servitude, or submissiveness. They understand what real love is, and they practice it.

I have been blessed in my own life to know many illuminators; I have wonderful longtime friends whom I love and who love me. My husband has been an illuminator for me and many people he's worked with--a true coach. But I also have experienced diminishers, and trust me, before you understand who and what they are, you will feel diminished by them. Less than your usual self. Until you regain your strength, your energy, your true sense of self. No one can destroy you once you know who you truly are. And sometimes being your true self is a lonely road when you're surrounded by diminishers. But it's a far better road, and in the end, you'll have outpaced them and left them behind in the dust. 

Saying goodbye to Gisele

My longtime friend since childhood, Gisele, passed away yesterday. She was sixty-six years old and had suffered with a degenerative neurological disease called multiple system atrophy for the past nine years. She was hospitalized this past weekend for Covid but in her weakened state due to her illness, was not able to recover from it. Since her diagnosis in 2014, we have tried to talk every Sunday, and for the most part, have managed to do so. We talked a lot about her situation and her feelings, my feelings and the feelings of friends and family. We talked about life, work, retirement, and traveling. She loved to travel and probably would have bought an apartment in Paris if she hadn't become ill. Her father was born in France and she had a special affinity for the country. 

Before she became ill, we traveled together and had fun together, with trips to Paris and Dublin among some of the more memorable trips. When her illness reached the point where it impaired her ability to drive, I would drive her around Westchester and we would revisit the haunts of our youth. She was an incredibly honest and open person and I learned a lot from her. Candid is the word I would use to describe her. She did not waste time, either hers or other's; her life and the lives of others mattered. She valued others. She chose her words and her advice carefully, but if something needed to be said, she could say it. I've known her for most of my life. We grew up together in the same neighborhood; she lived right around the corner. When we were teenagers, we hung out at her house after dinner during the summer months, talking and laughing and listening to WPLJ, the radio station with all the major pop and rock hits of the day. Her parents were welcoming and hospitable, much like mine. Her grandmother (father's mother) lived with them and had a black dog named Fluffy, who would go crazy with happiness when he met you at the door. Her father had a great sense of humor, which sometimes annoyed Gisele if his joking got too close for comfort. When I moved to Norway, he would sometimes greet me with 'How is it up there in Iceland'? He knew perfectly well where I lived, but he made me laugh, and she did too. How many times we talked about boyfriends, how many times we met in Manhattan to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, after which we would go to the museum restaurant to eat dessert and drink coffee. She and I had differing views about going to discos; I loved to go and dance, she did not. I know I dragged her to some discos a few times before she decided she didn't want to go anymore. As we got older, we talked about work problems (she was an elementary school teacher, I was a researcher). It was interesting that despite different work environments, many of the problems were the same--idiotic bosses, backbiting, gossiping colleagues. She never married or had children, mostly because she never met the right man with whom to have a family. We had our differences, but during a friendship that spanned over fifty years, one might expect that. She was honest about her own failings, even though it took some time to admit to them, as it does for us all. At her core she was a seeker of spiritual things, and I have some wonderful books that she gave me through the years that attest to that. I will miss her for always.  

My eulogy for Gisele: 

It’s been a long journey for Gisele, a journey into the mostly unknown. We who loved her joined her on that journey, offering support as best we could. Multiple system atrophy. MSA. No one had ever heard about it before or knew anything about it. But Gisele dealt with this new event in her life the way she dealt with most things—with courage and strength. She was brave and honest with herself and others. She was not afraid to talk about her illness, to research it, or to try different ways of tackling it. She knew that no ready cure for it existed, but she discovered that she could slow its progression if she made certain dietary adjustments, and she did and it worked for some time.

Today we have come to the end of one journey and the beginning of another. Gisele had faith, she prayed, and she believed in a heaven that existed for the faithful. During the past year, she told me that she was ready to meet God, and I know that she is with God and her parents now. There is so much I could say about her, about her love and loyalty and caring for others, about her sense of humor (inherited from her father) and her laugh. She was not her illness and she was adamant about that. She didn’t want to focus on what the illness had taken away from her, even though she grieved each loss while trying to accept them. But she lived in the present and chose not to focus on the past. She has a forever place in my heart.