all that glitters

I’ve always had a magpie eye. Anything sparkly or delicate would catch my eye and I would (mostly) resist the urge to squirrel the item away in my room. I did once steal a piece of glass that dangled from my friend’s lamp; if I held it up to the light, I could see a rainbow and at the age of seven, nothing seemed more magical than that. Now, as an adult, I have a lamp covered in tiny crystals and it brings me just as much joy. Yesterday was the memorial for my cousin and I wore the Swarovski crystal earrings she gave me. I haven’t attended very many funerals in person and wasn’t sure how it would work via Zoom, but the memorial service was lovely—a gentle flow of recorded and live testimonials with music Laura loved and countless photos of her throughout her life. There were prayers and poetry, tears but laughter, too. I signed off feeling a little blue and hastily wrote a rather miserable poem before jumping on another Zoom with my friend Stef. We talked about the technical side of death—do you have a will? who’s listed as the beneficiary on your accounts?—but we also talked about legacy and how we’d like to be remembered. We wrapped up ninety minutes later by answering these questions asked of artists by the New York Times:

Did you make anything that mattered?Who and what comforted you?Which moments will you remember?Which ideas would you like to forget?What would a do-over look like?And what’s still on your to-do list as “normal” comes into focus?”

I read another article last month that reported how authors were struggling to write during the pandemic. Fortunately, that hasn’t been a problem for me and I can’t imagine surviving the long months of quarantine without having a way to channel and/or avoid my emotions. My imagination is activated in moments of crisis and so I’ve had a productive pandemic. Memorable moments? The many birds I lured to my deck and window by putting out food. Moving to Evanston in August. Passing my citizenship test on Tuesday! My interviewer was kind and everyone at the processing center was helpful and pleasant—very different from my experience years ago at the crowded, chaotic center in Manhattan. The swearing-in ceremony is delayed due to the spacing requirements in the auditorium, but I get the feeling it won’t be long. Of course, I’m already looking at package vacations for the fall…maybe Copenhagen for my birthday and Lapland for Xmas so I can see the Northern Lights. So much as been put on hold for so long that everything suddenly feels urgent. I think I’ll be vaccinated by the summer and hopefully Europe will get its act together and open up safely for the fall.

Last week my arrived from Russia—a miniature circus stage and an even smaller theater. I don’t have a dollhouse, but I love tiny things and today I’m hoping to start my fairy story. It’s been on hold for weeks but on Friday I turned in my last poem for Moonwalking and that means I have two mostly open weeks without a single deadline looming over me. I signed up for a drawing and watercolor class at the local art center so for eight weeks starting in April I’ll have a chunk of time devoted to my own development as an artist. Every time I hear a COVID-related death announced on the news, I wait to hear the person’s age. Every life lost should be mourned but it’s particularly sad when someone dies young. I don’t want to feel as if I’ve squandered my potential by being too afraid to try new things. And I don’t want a few poems and stories to be my legacy. What else will I leave behind? Many moments in our lives aren’t photographed and will never be archived. So what will the record show? Does it matter? I’m reading a book called How to Do Nothing and it’s partly about how the “attention economy” has made us try to wring value out of every minute of our day…I don’t want to walk anywhere unless I’ve got my pedometer on and I’m getting “credit” for it through some app. But everything doesn’t have to be measured and monetized. Sometimes the doing of a thing is its own reward. Going to try to keep that in mind as I ease into these two less hectic weeks.