New England’s glory is autumn: musings on a Hallowed Eve

At some point if you’re lucky you realize you’re old enough that half your life has happened after college. For me, that also marks the division between growing up “at Home” in the American Pacific NW, and then living for almost two decades in the Northeast, first in Central* New York, then still further eastward until I ran out of land and stopped just short of the Atlantic Ocean.

While Home is still where my heart resides, autumn is the season when I most appreciate living in New England. I find that my otherwise least favorite chore—driving on the region’s rarely planned, oft overcrowded roads—becomes a source of radiant joy on crisp, clear fall mornings.

garden view of bench on frosty autumn morningI am the sort of person whose heart really does feel swollen to bursting in the face of beauty. I get moved to tears easily and often, especially by evidence of the enormous capacity of human beings for goodness and generosity. I literally jump for joy when I get excited. I’m not what you might call “hard to stir” at any time. And yet…

Simply passing along our suburban lane these past few days has been a wonderland of well-framed vistas, with all credit due to Mother Nature. I may hate the new McMansions thrown up around the corner, but even they look fantastic bedecked with pots of purple mums and overhung by turning leaves in yellow, orange, and blazing red, mirrored by their fallen comrades drifting the street below and browning into dust.

With the ground heavily frosted this morning, I stole a moment I couldn’t spare in the yard to snap a photo of rimed flowers, drooping toward death, yet somehow more magnificent than ever in their regal fading.

Frost rimed flower and fallen autumn leavesThe best photos, I’ll never capture. It is the empty road embraced by fiery foliage that stirs me, moves me, but can’t be caught. I’ve always loved the promise of whirring along en route to the pleasures of a destination, and it is this combination of robust kinetic energy within the season of winding down and wrapping up that makes these moments so momentous for me.

I hope someday to return Home to stay, resuming the mantle of grey days and soft, cool mist that is my birthright. I miss the sight of constant, snow-capped mountains swathed in evergreens, and even the ubiquitous rain. But, if I do depart, I will always miss New England’s blazing autumns. These daily miracles will remain forever etched on my soul.

Happy Halloween, dear readers!

*Not “Upstate” New York, which means somewhere else in the large state that also happens to house that glory hog, New York City. This is a distinction quite dear to those who live near my alma mater. I went to college in a rural part of the state, where cows outnumbered even students. Our little village didn’t even host a gas station.

Here’s where I can’t help but make a terrible and rather inappropriate joke, so I’ll keep it below the fold. Stop here, children. Continue reading

Exposé: Cuisine-ophobia or the xenophobic kitchens of another generation

While celebrating a family birthday around a crowded, multi-generational table, I pontificated at my children about the way certain dishes and cuisines have shifted within American society from outsider status to everyday favorites. My immigrant in-laws nodded in agreement as we all discussed the way “normal” home cooking varies over time and between homelands.

pizza“Why, when Grandma was a child,” I intoned, “spaghetti was an ethnic Italian food that your American great-grandmother would never have made at home. Isn’t that funny, since we eat pasta and pizza every week?”

“Ah yes,” replied my younger son, “cuisine-ophobia is a terrible thing!”

Continue reading

Take advantage of services offered: treat yourself like a friend

Using myself as an object lesson once again, I’ll remind anyone with a less than perfectly functioning self to make use of the services that are offered to you. More than that, be proactive, and request what you need.

It’s amazing how many ways there are to make the trials of modern travel easier, but also amazing how loathe some of us can be to ask for help.

Today’s case in point: having a difficult joint act up while waiting in the Dublin Airport 51st & Green airside (past security) Lounge. This is a lovely, bright airport lounge. There are quite a few worse places to pass a few hours. Its design, meant to evoke the Neolithic tomb Newgrange, immediately made both myself and my husband think of 2001: A Space Odyssey when we (on separate occasions) entered.

Evocative–and attractive–as the long, white entry corridor is, it’s enough to strike fear into the heart (or knee, foot, hip) of an individual struggling to walk without pain. The toilets are 2/3 of the way down, back by the reception desk. Sigh.

I thought about going to ask for a wheelchair escort when the pain struck, then sat down, determined to ignore yet another annoying infirmity. Then I had this thought: if my husband were here, he would demand help for me, because he thinks I deserve it. And he’s right!

If I were watching a loved one struggle with pain, even mild pain, I would seek help, and I would insist s/he make use of it. Why should I do any less for myself?

Am I suggesting that I’m the center of the Universe, that everything revolves around me and my needs? Well, no. But I would argue that treating myself as less than I would a friend or casual acquaintance isn’t brave or valiant, it’s unloving and unwise.

Self advocacy doesn’t equate to self indulgence.

“Misuse of the lavatories will be punished” heard on Deutsche Bahn train from Austria

Stuff you don’t want to hear as a visitor on a foreign train:

Misuse of the lavatories will be punished!

img_7012This was heard aboard the Intercity (IC 118) train from Austria to Germany.

Further statements by the conductor made it clear his admonition was regarding violations of the smoking policy on board the train (i.e., No Smoking, not even while hiding in the WC.)

img_1403

Intercity First Class compartment on IC118 train from Austria to Germany in 2018

I will admit that I was a bit nervous before he clarified. One assumes one’s restroom behavior is similar to that of others, but, after all, it isn’t something easily brought up in conversation with one’s compartment mates whose native language and culture differs from one’s own.

Though the finer nuances of European international relations are beyond me, it seemed clear that the German conductor, upon taking over after the border crossing, was speaking specifically to Austrians on board.

I’m guessing he did so because Austria’s national attitude toward public smoking lags so far behind that of most modern states, but it might just be because the Germans are more strict about rule enforcement than the smaller nation sharing its language and a border to the south. Or maybe Germans just have a thing about bossing Austrians around?
As a tourist, I simply followed every rule as carefully as I could and took special care not to get up to any hijinks in the lavatories. One thing I definitely don’t want to experience of another culture is how they punish people on trains!

Dear Merriam-Webster, you should define “immolation” better than this!

I sincerely enjoy a good dictionary. I use a hardcover American Heritage edition a couple of times a week, the Merriam- Webster app or a paid Kindle version of several foreign language dictionaries often, and online lookups almost every day.

Recently, I was disappointed by Merriam- Webster online. I looked up “immolation,” mostly because it’s the kind of word whose correct spelling I prefer to confirm before using it in a post. Here’s what M-W had to say:

Screenshot immolation definintion MWI have to ask: seriously? This is the best definition you can provide?

If I don’t know what immolation means, I probably also don’t know the meaning of immolating or immolated, without which knowledge I can get no use from this definition.

And the example provides no new clues. Well, except that Aztecs performed “bloody” immolations, which still leaves the reader free to imagine any number of possible meanings.

img_7315In an age when most of the students I know prefer to “ask Siri” instead of looking up unknown words for themselves, I’d like to see Merriam- Webster and other dictionaries proving their worth at every opportunity.

I think this is one definition that could be done by Merriam-Webster much better.