Getting there...one awkward step at a time

Also: the best thing I heard this week was from...baseball?

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I got up early and watched a new day start. At least there was that.

I look back on this week and see I’ve started quite a few things: books that I’ve been meaning to read, the search for a dog, the return to something like a social life, a lengthening to-do list, a list of ingredients for a salad I want to make using fregula. 

I’ve started this week’s newsletter about three different times.

When I can’t write, I read. I cook. I walk. I take out the little bag of toasted pasta I bought months ago and spend hours looking up all the ways I could prepare it. I clean bathrooms, throw some clothes in the washer, organize my office. 

When I confessed to my friend that I’d spent Tuesday afternoon making two kinds of chicken instead of using the time I had the house to myself for writing, she said that this was a sign that I was returning to myself, getting ready to write. This counted, she said, in some way towards my progress. 

She is a good friend. 

I think as I move about. I hope the answers I’m looking for will find me as I chop, toss, dust, and fill out applications to rescue organizations that I hope will convince them of my worthiness to adopt one of their dogs. This, too, is a kind of progress I think. I didn’t know I was ready to even think about another dog until, suddenly, it felt okay -- as if there was room now in my heart for another dog with her own personality and needs who could live side by side with my memories of Rina. Perhaps saying goodbye to my dad has helped me to move forward here too. Unfortunately, my dedication to this task and all the emotional upheaval and anticipation that come with it don’t exactly help me concentrate. 

I do feel words shifting around inside me, coming and going. I jot notes as I go. Every day I open up my novel and leave the pages open on my computer where I can see them, change a word or two, and begin to re-enter the story I left behind three weeks ago. I keep reminding myself that I’ve been here before; re-entry is a process, an awkward dance that I wish I knew how to master a little better after all these years. 

While I’m waiting for that, let me share with you a few things I’ve been reading, watching, and cooking. You know, just in case you are stuck in an awkward dance of  your own. 

Before that, though, I want to thank every one of you who wrote to me or left comments after last week’s post sharing your own thoughts about home, memories, family. It meant so much and I am grateful for your comfort and insights as well as the feeling of connection that grew stronger and stronger with every message that rolled in. 

The best thing I heard this week

“I was trying to keep things small and big things happened.” - Chris Taylor, Los Angeles Dodgers.

I am not a baseball fan, let’s get that straight up front. I once went to a game that lasted 15 innings. I fled at inning 12 and felt like I’d barely escaped a long, slow, stultifying death. But my husband is a Dodgers fan and on Wednesday there was a big “Wild Card” game -- one that would decide who would go on to play for the division winner. He explained all about the unfairness of the new rule that created this game as we watched the game inch along, him on the edge of his lounger and me settled with a blanket, my reading glasses, my iPad and my phone. 

We got to the bottom of the ninth and the Dodgers were tied with the Cardinals at 1 run each. We would be going into interminable extra innings or there would be a dramatic win by the Dodgers. I was heavily invested in the outcome — my bed was calling to me — so I watched. That’s when Chris Taylor became my hero and hero to every one of the millions of Dodger fans. He hit a homer that drove two runs in and won the game. What impressed me even more than the sight of my mate leaping from his recliner straight into the air (he stuck the landing), was what Chris Taylor said afterwards. He wasn’t going for a homer. He wasn’t trying to be a hero. He was “trying to keep things small.” 

Then he did this:

This just seems like such a smart way to tackle anything hard -- a book, a relationship, the insurmountable stack of expectations that drive me to avoid the things I most want to do. Stop trying to bat it out of the park. Go small. I can do that. 

In honor of the post-season, here is a list of of “The 20 Best Baseball Books Ever” assembled by Dan Epstein for Esquire in 2013. Feel free to add your own. 

Three Big Books from Small Presses

Just started…The Spiral Shell: A French Village Reveals Its Secrets in World War II. This is a memoir by Sandell Morse that began as a research project but turned out to be a journey of self-discovery and coming to understand the role of French Jews under the Vichy government during World War II. Although I’m just at the beginning of the book and Morse’s journey, I’m already drawn into the landscape of southern France and the conflicting perspectives of the French then and now. 

Just finished…What Falls is Always: Writers Over 60 on Writing & Death (What Books Press 2021), an anthology of essays edited by Katherine Haake and Gail Wronsky: that will be more widely available later this month. All I’ll say about this collection right now is that it held me in its grip the entire time I was away. I’m looking forward to sharing how reading this book fed me as a writer and as a human being, wondering what happens in this last third of life to the work we’ve chosen or that has chosen us. 

Looking forward to starting... another anthology of essays, The Whole Alphabet: The Light And The Dark published by So Say We All Press. I was honored have contributed as an editor for several of the pieces contained in this collection written by writers who participated in two writing salons and several story-telling performances featuring creative LGBTQ+ authors from across the country who “delve into their most personal experiences to deliver unexpected and original shots to the heart.” My copy was waiting for me when I arrived home from my trip east. You can buy yours HERE. 

Fregula or Fregola: This is not the important question

Two spellings of the word for this little pearl-shaped Sardinian pasta are floating around. The key issue, though, is what to do with the bag I bought on Amazon during the pandemic. Do I make a salad or is the autumn close enough to go for a hot dish? Do I put it off altogether and sink into the movie that has been on my list for a long time, “Daughter of Mine,” which is set on the island of Sardinia?

I’ll know the answers to these and other questions tomorrow. In the meantime, thanks for hanging in there with me. Please write - let me know how you are, what you are thinking about, and, always, what you are reading. We will add your books to those that appear on the Spark Community Recommendations Page at bookshop.org where part of every purchase goes to support independent bookstores and to help us raise money towards the support of literacy programs selected by this community.

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That’s it for this week. Until next Saturday, I’m happily, gratefully yours,

Betsy

P.S. And now…your moment of Zen: dawn stalker

I’m sure this seagull wanted me to disappear but I didn’t, so he/she/they did (click for video).

egmarro_spark

A post shared by Betsy Marro (@egmarro_spark)

Calling for Your Contribution to “Moment of Zen”

What is YOUR moment of Zen? Send me your photos, a video, a drawing, a song, a poem, or anything with a visual that moved you, thrilled you, calmed you. Or just cracked you up. This feature is wide open for your own personal interpretation.

Come on, go through your photos, your memories or just keep your eyes and ears to the ground and then share. Send your photos/links, etc. to me by replying to this email or simply by sending to: elizabethmarro@substack.com. The main guidelines are probably already obvious: don’t hurt anyone  -- don’t send anything that violates the privacy of someone you love or even someone you hate, don’t send anything divisive, or aimed at disparaging others. Our Zen moments are to help us connect, to bond, to learn, to wonder, to share -- to escape the world for a little bit and return refreshed. 

I can’t wait to see what you send!

(And if you’ve gotten here, liked something, and still haven’t hit the heart below, now’s your chance! )