I am on a mission! I want to help my friend, a 75-year-old man in Chicago who is heartbroken because he hasn't seen his lifelong best friend, Jack Holt, in years.
Jack (or John) Holt would also be about 75 today. About 12 years ago, Jack moved from 6938 W. Medill in Chicago to the San Diego area to be with his sister, Joan Holt, and his mother, Mrs. Arthur Holt (unsure of her first name). Joan Holt is retired from working from the San Diego County district attorney. Mrs. Arthur Holt, who would be in her 90s now, worked for the Sec. of State's office in Illinois. Last my neighbor knew, Jack Holt had never married or had children.
This is all the information I have about the family. My friend doesn't have a computer and is struggling with loneliness and other emotions related to aging. He misses his friend, who he describes as being "like a brother," and it would mean the world to get to talk to him again after all these years.
For younger generations like mine (I'm 31), staying in touch or finding "old friends" is no sweat. We use Facebook and cell phones and don't bat an eyelash. But my friend has no computer and no way of tracking down his "brother" at a time in his life where reconnecting would mean so much.
If you have any info or suggestions that might help me find Jack Holt or his family, I will greatly appreciate it -- and you'll make a huge difference in someone's life.
Thanks!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Saturday, January 3, 2009
New year, new writing!
OK, so the NaNoWriMo plan didn't pan out perfectly. I did write a few thousand words and come up with an outline for a future book, though. Better than nothing. :)
And what's way better? Monday I start an 8-week online writing workshop led by one of my favorite authors and inspirations, Ariel Gore. You may remember her from the motivating and generally cool-chick interview she gave me this time a couple years ago: Ariel interview Pt. 1 and Pt. 2. I've been writing up a storm just at the thought of the workshop. I'll let y'all know how it goes.
In other news, the Hidden Mitten was in the studio last week recording a new EP (YAY!!!!) and I'm also getting the Silver Lining Writers Group back together for the new year. Woohoo! It feels awesome to end '08 and start '09 on a creative note. A studio diary will be coming soon from me, and in the meantime, here's the scoop on writing group from my Facebook post:
So, in 2007 I had this superfun writers group going with various friends. We got together every month or so to drink, hang out, and either talk about writing -- or not talk about writing, depending on mood. It was open to anyone with an interest in writing, so we had everyone from those with a published book to those who prided themselves on writing kickass e-mails. If one of us needed to vent about writer's block or a torturous freelance assignment, we did (and we drank). If one of us was celebrating seeing their article in print or book in stores, we did (and we drank). Those were good, inspiring, camaraderie-infused times.
Then I got a full-time job. Projects like finishing my book, writing on my blog, printing my 'zine, and getting the writer's group together fell tragically but understandably by the wayside. To that I say: NO MORE! Many members have asked when we're meeting again, and I shall put it off no more. Break out the whiskey and put on your best Hemingway pants -- for as the new year looms, Silver Lining Writers Group returns! Woohoo!
WHEN: 6 p.m. (or as soon as you can get there) Monday, January 19
WHERE: Hopleaf Bar, 5148 N. Clark http://www.hopleaf.com/
WHAT ELSE: For new-year's inspiration, we'll head to the Neo-Futurariam for the 8 p.m. show of my favorite theater production ever, That's Weird, Grandma. The show is cheap ($9), short (1 hr.), and unforgettably different and hilarious every time. (The Barrel of Monkeys troupe works with Chicago Public School kids, who write short sketches that the adult actors perform in the show.) If kids can write, we can write -- right?! :)http://www.barrelofmonkeys.org/
HOW: New people are always welcome! You can come for the meeting and the show, or one or the other. You can bring friends. You can dance on the bar. Bring it on. (And if you do, I'll definitely regale you with the infamous story of "salsa sock," which was born after a particularly whiskey-fueled meeting at (may it rest in peace) Pontiac Cafe. Just comment and RSVP so I know how many seats to grab at the Hopleaf.
Happy new year and happy writing and reading to everyone!
LOVE & LIT,
Erin :)
And what's way better? Monday I start an 8-week online writing workshop led by one of my favorite authors and inspirations, Ariel Gore. You may remember her from the motivating and generally cool-chick interview she gave me this time a couple years ago: Ariel interview Pt. 1 and Pt. 2. I've been writing up a storm just at the thought of the workshop. I'll let y'all know how it goes.
In other news, the Hidden Mitten was in the studio last week recording a new EP (YAY!!!!) and I'm also getting the Silver Lining Writers Group back together for the new year. Woohoo! It feels awesome to end '08 and start '09 on a creative note. A studio diary will be coming soon from me, and in the meantime, here's the scoop on writing group from my Facebook post:
So, in 2007 I had this superfun writers group going with various friends. We got together every month or so to drink, hang out, and either talk about writing -- or not talk about writing, depending on mood. It was open to anyone with an interest in writing, so we had everyone from those with a published book to those who prided themselves on writing kickass e-mails. If one of us needed to vent about writer's block or a torturous freelance assignment, we did (and we drank). If one of us was celebrating seeing their article in print or book in stores, we did (and we drank). Those were good, inspiring, camaraderie-infused times.
Then I got a full-time job. Projects like finishing my book, writing on my blog, printing my 'zine, and getting the writer's group together fell tragically but understandably by the wayside. To that I say: NO MORE! Many members have asked when we're meeting again, and I shall put it off no more. Break out the whiskey and put on your best Hemingway pants -- for as the new year looms, Silver Lining Writers Group returns! Woohoo!
WHEN: 6 p.m. (or as soon as you can get there) Monday, January 19
WHERE: Hopleaf Bar, 5148 N. Clark http://www.hopleaf.com/
WHAT ELSE: For new-year's inspiration, we'll head to the Neo-Futurariam for the 8 p.m. show of my favorite theater production ever, That's Weird, Grandma. The show is cheap ($9), short (1 hr.), and unforgettably different and hilarious every time. (The Barrel of Monkeys troupe works with Chicago Public School kids, who write short sketches that the adult actors perform in the show.) If kids can write, we can write -- right?! :)http://www.barrelofmonkeys.org/
HOW: New people are always welcome! You can come for the meeting and the show, or one or the other. You can bring friends. You can dance on the bar. Bring it on. (And if you do, I'll definitely regale you with the infamous story of "salsa sock," which was born after a particularly whiskey-fueled meeting at (may it rest in peace) Pontiac Cafe. Just comment and RSVP so I know how many seats to grab at the Hopleaf.
Happy new year and happy writing and reading to everyone!
LOVE & LIT,
Erin :)
Saturday, November 1, 2008
NaNoWriMo 2008!
It's Nov. 1 and I'm embarking on a new project: National Novel Writing Month (AKA NaNoWriMo). This means I'm going to try to write the first draft of a manuscript in one month. Yikes! Scary! But hopefully it will be just the kick in the pants I need to write more. I look back on the time when I had time to write on this blog or my Myspace blog every day, and it blows my mind all the memories and stories I was getting down on "paper." The habit of writing really is a huge part of the process, and I'm crossing my fingers it comes back to me like riding a bike (though you may know the story of how I didn't learn to ride 'til I was 19, so that old adage doesn't quite work here).
ANYWAY. Wish me luck! I'm hoping to post every day to keep track of my word count. 50,000 in a month is the NaNoWriMo goal. Here goes nothin' - or hopefully, somethin'!
LOVE & STORIES,
Erin
ANYWAY. Wish me luck! I'm hoping to post every day to keep track of my word count. 50,000 in a month is the NaNoWriMo goal. Here goes nothin' - or hopefully, somethin'!
LOVE & STORIES,
Erin
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Silver Lining zine: You're Looking at Country, pt. 2
We rejoin Silver Lining contributing writer Jennifer Levin in her love of country music. You can catch pt. 1 in the previous post. - Erin
Who says who gets to listen to what? Well…though we were not religious, my parents called the principal in protest when I was made to sing “O Come All Ye Faithful” in elementary school, and when I was 10, on a family camping trip through Kentucky, Tennessee and Mississippi, they warned me daily not to tell anyone we were Jewish. In retrospect, this level of “Jewish damage” is out of proportion to the sporadic and relatively tame anti-Semitism I actually encountered growing up, but…at a company Christmas party three years ago, jealous of the two-stepping couples on the dance floor, I asked a co-worker to teach me. “Don’t be silly,” she laughed, gulping water and grabbing her girlfriend by the hand, “Jews don’t have to know how to two-step.”
I was appalled, yet felt the need to defend myself to her in my head, angrily listing the CDs currently in rotation in my car: Jimmie Rodgers, Gillian Welch, Iris DeMent, the Carter Family, Allison Krauss and Union Station — who did she think she was? I had nothing to prove. And still…
Last August, I put off going to the Santa Fe Bluegrass Festival for the first two-and-a-half days, citing housework and other obligations. But on Sunday evening William and I finally headed for the rodeo grounds, where I knew that anyone with any street cred would recognize me as an interloper.
“Everyone’s so old-timey,” I said, and though no one had even looked at me, “I feel Jewish.”
“Jewish is like the oldest of the old-timey,” said William.
We settled into the main performance tent just in time to hear the band play Del McCoury’s “I Feel the Blues Moving In,” one of my all-time favorite songs. Knowing the lyrics to the first song I heard eased my anxiety. I let the music take over and forgot to feel like an outsider. The only thing required of me was an unending tolerance for the music. Turns out, I really can listen to it forever.
The Bluegrass Festival was a turning point for me, and we’ll be going for all three days this year. I can no longer deny who I am. However, I still need two-stepping lessons and I’d also like to learn to clog and yodel. In return, I can teach you how to make potato latkes and pineapple noodle kugel.
Who says who gets to listen to what? Well…though we were not religious, my parents called the principal in protest when I was made to sing “O Come All Ye Faithful” in elementary school, and when I was 10, on a family camping trip through Kentucky, Tennessee and Mississippi, they warned me daily not to tell anyone we were Jewish. In retrospect, this level of “Jewish damage” is out of proportion to the sporadic and relatively tame anti-Semitism I actually encountered growing up, but…at a company Christmas party three years ago, jealous of the two-stepping couples on the dance floor, I asked a co-worker to teach me. “Don’t be silly,” she laughed, gulping water and grabbing her girlfriend by the hand, “Jews don’t have to know how to two-step.”
I was appalled, yet felt the need to defend myself to her in my head, angrily listing the CDs currently in rotation in my car: Jimmie Rodgers, Gillian Welch, Iris DeMent, the Carter Family, Allison Krauss and Union Station — who did she think she was? I had nothing to prove. And still…
Last August, I put off going to the Santa Fe Bluegrass Festival for the first two-and-a-half days, citing housework and other obligations. But on Sunday evening William and I finally headed for the rodeo grounds, where I knew that anyone with any street cred would recognize me as an interloper.
“Everyone’s so old-timey,” I said, and though no one had even looked at me, “I feel Jewish.”
“Jewish is like the oldest of the old-timey,” said William.
We settled into the main performance tent just in time to hear the band play Del McCoury’s “I Feel the Blues Moving In,” one of my all-time favorite songs. Knowing the lyrics to the first song I heard eased my anxiety. I let the music take over and forgot to feel like an outsider. The only thing required of me was an unending tolerance for the music. Turns out, I really can listen to it forever.
The Bluegrass Festival was a turning point for me, and we’ll be going for all three days this year. I can no longer deny who I am. However, I still need two-stepping lessons and I’d also like to learn to clog and yodel. In return, I can teach you how to make potato latkes and pineapple noodle kugel.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Silver Lining zine: You're Looking at Country by Jennifer Levin
Today's Silver Lining contributor, the lovely Jennifer Levin, comes to us from Santa Fe, NM, by way of Chicago, where she once struggled with being Jewish, Midwestern, AND a fan of Country & Western music all at once. Read on! - Erin
When I was nine I wanted to be Tom Sawyer. I wore overalls, went barefoot, and to the dismay of my family and classmates, attempted to learn the harmonica. That I was a girl living in the North Shore suburbs of Chicago in 1984 didn’t dampen my desire to exist in the 1840s. Eventually, however, I grew breasts and could no longer convince myself of the fantasy.
In high school, though I shaved off most of my hair and wore combat boots, I preferred Pasty Cline to Siouxsie Sioux. In college, my affinity for the Waterboys inspired my roommate to forbid me from choosing the music anymore, because the Waterboys picking made her feel “too white.” And when I grew up and got a job and started listening to bluegrass in my office, co-workers leaned in to ask how someone like me had ever been exposed to country music.
“Someone like me” means “Jew from Chicago.” And though I would classify what I listen to as many things — bluegrass, high lonesome, rockabilly, twang, Western swing, classic country, alt-country — it is, indeed, country.
This country-love began about six years ago when my boyfriend William came home with the soundtrack to O Brother Where Art Thou and changed my life. Everything about this “old-timey” music was right for me — I told William I could listen to “I’ll Fly Away” forever. And yet, the curiosity my new musical pursuits provoked in others gave me pause. Who was I to sing along with a church song about going to heaven?
Was I being ridiculous?
(Was she? Was Jennifer being ridiculous? More tomorrow, when "You're Looking at Country" concludes. Can't wait! - Erin)
When I was nine I wanted to be Tom Sawyer. I wore overalls, went barefoot, and to the dismay of my family and classmates, attempted to learn the harmonica. That I was a girl living in the North Shore suburbs of Chicago in 1984 didn’t dampen my desire to exist in the 1840s. Eventually, however, I grew breasts and could no longer convince myself of the fantasy.
In high school, though I shaved off most of my hair and wore combat boots, I preferred Pasty Cline to Siouxsie Sioux. In college, my affinity for the Waterboys inspired my roommate to forbid me from choosing the music anymore, because the Waterboys picking made her feel “too white.” And when I grew up and got a job and started listening to bluegrass in my office, co-workers leaned in to ask how someone like me had ever been exposed to country music.
“Someone like me” means “Jew from Chicago.” And though I would classify what I listen to as many things — bluegrass, high lonesome, rockabilly, twang, Western swing, classic country, alt-country — it is, indeed, country.
This country-love began about six years ago when my boyfriend William came home with the soundtrack to O Brother Where Art Thou and changed my life. Everything about this “old-timey” music was right for me — I told William I could listen to “I’ll Fly Away” forever. And yet, the curiosity my new musical pursuits provoked in others gave me pause. Who was I to sing along with a church song about going to heaven?
Was I being ridiculous?
(Was she? Was Jennifer being ridiculous? More tomorrow, when "You're Looking at Country" concludes. Can't wait! - Erin)
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Trade in Celebrity Obsession for Community Service
A friend in Oklahoma's blog this morning really inspired me. My heart aches right now over all the things it made me think about. Thankfully, I'm an optimist and I truly believe it's not too late to save our society from becoming a cesspool. But we all need to do our part to turn this freaking ship around. A link to his blog plus my response and call to action are now on the Open Books blog.
L&G,
e
P.S. -- After you read the blogs, I hope those in Chicago will suck it up and sign up to help Open Books with our Big Move. We can't do the bulk of our work until we get our books moved and sorted. They are used in critical community service programs and are sold to pay for all the literacy work we do. We desperately need people for the early Public Storage shifts, 7 - 11 a.m. Saturday and Sunday, Feb. 2-3. Just this once, get up early on a weekend. Then you can skip the gym and eat all your want at Super Bowl parties as a reward.
L&G,
e
P.S. -- After you read the blogs, I hope those in Chicago will suck it up and sign up to help Open Books with our Big Move. We can't do the bulk of our work until we get our books moved and sorted. They are used in critical community service programs and are sold to pay for all the literacy work we do. We desperately need people for the early Public Storage shifts, 7 - 11 a.m. Saturday and Sunday, Feb. 2-3. Just this once, get up early on a weekend. Then you can skip the gym and eat all your want at Super Bowl parties as a reward.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Silver Lining zine: Favorite Questions #3
Three favorite questions for . . .
Jim Hall, Chicago, IL, 28
1. What's one BOOK that has made your life better?
The Brother's Karamazov because it's impossible to fee sorry for yourself when faced with a Dostoevsky character.
2. What's one ALBUM that has made your life better?
June of '44. Four Great Points. It proved to me that the music I wanted to listen to was out there, and that if I listened well enough, I could find it, and maybe make it myself.
3. What's one way you can take lemons and make lemonade?
I'm finding out just how productive I can be without constant internet access.
Jim Hall, Chicago, IL, 28
1. What's one BOOK that has made your life better?
The Brother's Karamazov because it's impossible to fee sorry for yourself when faced with a Dostoevsky character.
2. What's one ALBUM that has made your life better?
June of '44. Four Great Points. It proved to me that the music I wanted to listen to was out there, and that if I listened well enough, I could find it, and maybe make it myself.
3. What's one way you can take lemons and make lemonade?
I'm finding out just how productive I can be without constant internet access.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Silver Lining zine: Favorite Questions #2
Three favorite questions for . . .
Jennifer Levin, Santa Fe, NM, 33
1. What's one BOOK that has made your life better?
I re-read The World According to Garp (John Irving) when I was very unhappy with my choice of college during freshman year. It made me realize that I was studying the wrong thing in the wrong place and so I moved to Santa Fe to be a writer.
2. What's one ALBUM that has made your life better?
Furnace Room Lullabye by Neko Case and Her Boyfriends. I didn't realize anyone sang that way--belting, uncatagorizable--and the song "Guided by Wire" made me understand my own past in a way I never had before.
3. What's one way you can take lemons and make lemonade?
I'm a little burnt out on my job--but I have 65 hours of vacation to use up in the next six weeks, so I'm taking all of next week off for an impromptu "writing residency in my bedroom." Only two days to go!
Jennifer Levin, Santa Fe, NM, 33
1. What's one BOOK that has made your life better?
I re-read The World According to Garp (John Irving) when I was very unhappy with my choice of college during freshman year. It made me realize that I was studying the wrong thing in the wrong place and so I moved to Santa Fe to be a writer.
2. What's one ALBUM that has made your life better?
Furnace Room Lullabye by Neko Case and Her Boyfriends. I didn't realize anyone sang that way--belting, uncatagorizable--and the song "Guided by Wire" made me understand my own past in a way I never had before.
3. What's one way you can take lemons and make lemonade?
I'm a little burnt out on my job--but I have 65 hours of vacation to use up in the next six weeks, so I'm taking all of next week off for an impromptu "writing residency in my bedroom." Only two days to go!
Monday, January 14, 2008
Silver Lining zine: Favorite Questions #1
Three favorite questions for . . .
Kristen Brown, Austin, TX, 32
1. What's one BOOK that has made your life better?
Books don't normally affect me very much, and I don't really have favorites. (I know, I must be a Communist or an alien or something.) BUT, The Mezzanine, by Nicholson Baker, totally rocked my world. I think about that book almost every day. It taught me that I am not the only person who thinks in footnotes (!!) and who notices the minutiae of life. And it reminds me how it is BEST to be like that, because then you never take any of life for granted.
2. What's one ALBUM that has made your life better?
I'd have to say that Disintegration, by The Cure, changed my life more than any other album because it was THAT album that made me understand the emotional power of music and fall in love with music in general. AND, Robert Smith is hot.
3. What's one way you can take lemons and make lemonade?
Recently I realized that instead of complaining and whining every time I had to sit in the Credit Union drive-though for 35 minutes (!!) every two weeks on payday, I would use that time to call my grandfather, or balance my checkbook, or make to-do lists, or do any number of other things I complain about never sitting still long enough to do!!
Kristen Brown, Austin, TX, 32
1. What's one BOOK that has made your life better?
Books don't normally affect me very much, and I don't really have favorites. (I know, I must be a Communist or an alien or something.) BUT, The Mezzanine, by Nicholson Baker, totally rocked my world. I think about that book almost every day. It taught me that I am not the only person who thinks in footnotes (!!) and who notices the minutiae of life. And it reminds me how it is BEST to be like that, because then you never take any of life for granted.
2. What's one ALBUM that has made your life better?
I'd have to say that Disintegration, by The Cure, changed my life more than any other album because it was THAT album that made me understand the emotional power of music and fall in love with music in general. AND, Robert Smith is hot.
3. What's one way you can take lemons and make lemonade?
Recently I realized that instead of complaining and whining every time I had to sit in the Credit Union drive-though for 35 minutes (!!) every two weeks on payday, I would use that time to call my grandfather, or balance my checkbook, or make to-do lists, or do any number of other things I complain about never sitting still long enough to do!!
Friday, January 11, 2008
Silver Lining zine: Jessa Crispin's "Books for Getting Off the Couch"!
I asked some of my favorite writers and lit types to contribute lists of recommendations. Bookslut's fabulous editor Jessica Crispin, a fellow Chicagoan and former Austinite, came through with flying colors. Yesterday we wallowed in her list of books, and today we revel! - Erin
Top 5 Books for Getting Off the Couch by Jessa Crispin
Pussycat Fever by Kathy Acker
"All of us girls have been dead for so long. But we're not going to be anymore."
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
Jackson will make you believe in the power of witchcraft and the rage of little girls.
Lawless Roads by Graham Greene
Greene's travel narrative of Mexico will make you want to go exploring yourself, even through the worst parts of his trip.
Becoming the Villainess by Jeannine Hall Gailey
Gailey retells fairy tales, Shakespeare's stories, and superhero plots with a quick wit and modern sensibility.
Don't Tell Me the Truth about Love by Dan Rhodes
These stories of love gone horribly and hilariously wrong will eclipse any problems you're going through.
Top 5 Books for Getting Off the Couch by Jessa Crispin
Pussycat Fever by Kathy Acker
"All of us girls have been dead for so long. But we're not going to be anymore."
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
Jackson will make you believe in the power of witchcraft and the rage of little girls.
Lawless Roads by Graham Greene
Greene's travel narrative of Mexico will make you want to go exploring yourself, even through the worst parts of his trip.
Becoming the Villainess by Jeannine Hall Gailey
Gailey retells fairy tales, Shakespeare's stories, and superhero plots with a quick wit and modern sensibility.
Don't Tell Me the Truth about Love by Dan Rhodes
These stories of love gone horribly and hilariously wrong will eclipse any problems you're going through.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Silver Lining zine: Jessa Crispin's "Books for Wallowing"
I asked some of my favorite writers and lit types to contribute lists of recommendations. Bookslut's fabulous editor Jessica Crispin, a fellow Chicagoan and former Austinite, came through with flying colors. Thanks, Jessa!- Erin
Top 5 Books for Wallowing by Jessa Crispin
Death of the Heart by Elizabeth Bowen
There's something about Bowen's writing that makes me want to take to my bed for three days and languish in her prose.
The Thin Place by Kathryn Davis
It's a book to be read slowly, and repeatedly.
The Varieties of Religious Experience by William James
More than just a (friendly) philosophy book, it can reorder your entire brain. After all that, you might need a nap.
Troubles by J. G. Farrell
Farrell's description of the decay of an Irish big house, overrun with cats and madness, will cause you to lose days at a time.
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
The ultimate wallow book.
*Tomorrow -- no more wallowing for you! Jessa's Top 5 Books for Getting Off the Couch will be here!
Top 5 Books for Wallowing by Jessa Crispin
Death of the Heart by Elizabeth Bowen
There's something about Bowen's writing that makes me want to take to my bed for three days and languish in her prose.
The Thin Place by Kathryn Davis
It's a book to be read slowly, and repeatedly.
The Varieties of Religious Experience by William James
More than just a (friendly) philosophy book, it can reorder your entire brain. After all that, you might need a nap.
Troubles by J. G. Farrell
Farrell's description of the decay of an Irish big house, overrun with cats and madness, will cause you to lose days at a time.
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
The ultimate wallow book.
*Tomorrow -- no more wallowing for you! Jessa's Top 5 Books for Getting Off the Couch will be here!
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Silver Lining short: Anna Price
The Silver Lining is a classic-rock-inspired band from Cambridge, Mass., and their 2006 album Well Dressed Blues is out on EYE-CON Records. I spoke with lovely vocalist Anna Price.
ERIN: How did you choose the name The Silver Lining for your band?
ANNA: So much of rock is really nihlistic and a-melodic these days, which is why I think it's lost so much of its audience. We wanted to say something a little bit more positive. The name the Silver Lining aknowledges that sometimes life can suck, but there's always a bright side too.
How do you find a silver lining when band life gets rough?
The important thing is to have other stuff in your life that makes you happy. If you count on the band as your sole reason for happiness, you'll put all kinds of pressure on yourself and you won't be able to enjoy the good parts. In other words, being in a band is really fucking hard so just try to have fun and don't take it so seriously.
What advice to you have for readers who need to kick a dark cloud in the ass?
Count your blessings. Most likely you're better off than 90 percent of the people on the planet, and the things that suck in your life are probably not so bad as they seem. Figure out what you can't change and accept it, and work to change the things that you can.
(I couldn't agree more. Thanks, Anna!)
ERIN: How did you choose the name The Silver Lining for your band?
ANNA: So much of rock is really nihlistic and a-melodic these days, which is why I think it's lost so much of its audience. We wanted to say something a little bit more positive. The name the Silver Lining aknowledges that sometimes life can suck, but there's always a bright side too.
How do you find a silver lining when band life gets rough?
The important thing is to have other stuff in your life that makes you happy. If you count on the band as your sole reason for happiness, you'll put all kinds of pressure on yourself and you won't be able to enjoy the good parts. In other words, being in a band is really fucking hard so just try to have fun and don't take it so seriously.
What advice to you have for readers who need to kick a dark cloud in the ass?
Count your blessings. Most likely you're better off than 90 percent of the people on the planet, and the things that suck in your life are probably not so bad as they seem. Figure out what you can't change and accept it, and work to change the things that you can.
(I couldn't agree more. Thanks, Anna!)
Monday, January 7, 2008
Silver Lining interview: Ariel Gore! Pt. 2
Silver Lining presents the second part of our interview with author and zine inspiration Ariel Gore. Her hard-won, entertaining, motivational, and gutsy insights begin in the previous post.
Erin: What has been the most rewarding aspect of your career as an indie writer and publisher?
Ariel: Well, that's a hard question to have follow the last one, because now I am all worked up about how HORRIBLE it is. But it's not! It's amazing and excellent to be able to make an (albeit very modest) living doing what I like to do. I just read Anne Lamott's new book and interviewed her for our community radio station, and I am of course just so freakin' jealous because she makes enough money to have a lot more leisure time in it all than I do, but then I look around at my life and just breathe in my appreciation, because I trusted that if I worked really hard at doing what I love the world would somehow support me and that has been true. Through much poverty and other gloop--but always liveable poverty and other gloop.
What's the latest in Hip Mama world? Has your pregnancy given you a ton of new material to work with? (Of course, this interview was months ago, so it's not quite the latest now. Check out her website for more.)
I don't know. Not so much yet. I just found out IT'S A BOY. That's something new for me. But I'm not sure if the baby thing feels totally real to me yet. (Although, I can say, I really don't know why they discourage the teen mom thing SO much, pregnancy is really very uncomfortable when you're 36). Anyway -- my daughter is headed off to college in the fall, which is just head-spiningly amazing to me. Being the parent of a teenager is hard, hard in a lot of ways, but one thing I love is being reminded that as a parent I am dispensible. I have been important, but through all of my triumphs and fuck-ups, she is her own person with her own destiny. There were things that always came naturally to me that she is no good at, and there are whole worlds I have been terrified to even ENTER that she has, simply, mastered.
You were a big inspiration for the Silver Lining zine. Would you share with us some of your inspirations as a writer, a mom, or just in general?
Diane DiPrima, Katherine Arnoldi, Anais Nin, Micelle Tea, Anne Lamott, Mary Waters, China Martens. Well, that looks like a very femme list. I'm sure that some men should be on it, but they don't pop into my mind just now.
You talk about this in your book, but can you sum up your advice for women who think "I don't have time to be a lit star" or any other kind of star?
Well, a woman--any woman--has to make a real effort not to dissolve into everything that needs her. We are trained to put the thing that we want to do last--and with writing it's also WORK, so if we manage to carve out a couple of hours in the week for ourselves, we might as well just go get a drink and relax. So we've got to learn to put writing up there at the top of our to-do lists, and not let everyone else's wants and needs cut in line.
And lastly, is there anything on your mind these days that you think more people should be aware of or thinking about? Consider this question free reign to spread the word!
There's a lot of jealous meanness going around. There's a lot of frustration and grief on the planet right now. There's a lot of arrogance. Just don't get sucked into that. You are a unique and amazing genius -- and so is everyone else. Share some love, man. I know I sound like a freakin' hippie, but what are you going to do? Avoid everyone who has gotten sucked into that mean jealous arrogant thing, because it's super toxic and contageous. Don't try to save them or anything. Share the love, and then MOVE THE FUCK ON.
Erin: What has been the most rewarding aspect of your career as an indie writer and publisher?
Ariel: Well, that's a hard question to have follow the last one, because now I am all worked up about how HORRIBLE it is. But it's not! It's amazing and excellent to be able to make an (albeit very modest) living doing what I like to do. I just read Anne Lamott's new book and interviewed her for our community radio station, and I am of course just so freakin' jealous because she makes enough money to have a lot more leisure time in it all than I do, but then I look around at my life and just breathe in my appreciation, because I trusted that if I worked really hard at doing what I love the world would somehow support me and that has been true. Through much poverty and other gloop--but always liveable poverty and other gloop.
What's the latest in Hip Mama world? Has your pregnancy given you a ton of new material to work with? (Of course, this interview was months ago, so it's not quite the latest now. Check out her website for more.)
I don't know. Not so much yet. I just found out IT'S A BOY. That's something new for me. But I'm not sure if the baby thing feels totally real to me yet. (Although, I can say, I really don't know why they discourage the teen mom thing SO much, pregnancy is really very uncomfortable when you're 36). Anyway -- my daughter is headed off to college in the fall, which is just head-spiningly amazing to me. Being the parent of a teenager is hard, hard in a lot of ways, but one thing I love is being reminded that as a parent I am dispensible. I have been important, but through all of my triumphs and fuck-ups, she is her own person with her own destiny. There were things that always came naturally to me that she is no good at, and there are whole worlds I have been terrified to even ENTER that she has, simply, mastered.
You were a big inspiration for the Silver Lining zine. Would you share with us some of your inspirations as a writer, a mom, or just in general?
Diane DiPrima, Katherine Arnoldi, Anais Nin, Micelle Tea, Anne Lamott, Mary Waters, China Martens. Well, that looks like a very femme list. I'm sure that some men should be on it, but they don't pop into my mind just now.
You talk about this in your book, but can you sum up your advice for women who think "I don't have time to be a lit star" or any other kind of star?
Well, a woman--any woman--has to make a real effort not to dissolve into everything that needs her. We are trained to put the thing that we want to do last--and with writing it's also WORK, so if we manage to carve out a couple of hours in the week for ourselves, we might as well just go get a drink and relax. So we've got to learn to put writing up there at the top of our to-do lists, and not let everyone else's wants and needs cut in line.
And lastly, is there anything on your mind these days that you think more people should be aware of or thinking about? Consider this question free reign to spread the word!
There's a lot of jealous meanness going around. There's a lot of frustration and grief on the planet right now. There's a lot of arrogance. Just don't get sucked into that. You are a unique and amazing genius -- and so is everyone else. Share some love, man. I know I sound like a freakin' hippie, but what are you going to do? Avoid everyone who has gotten sucked into that mean jealous arrogant thing, because it's super toxic and contageous. Don't try to save them or anything. Share the love, and then MOVE THE FUCK ON.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Silver Lining interview: Ariel Gore! Pt. 1
*In 2008, the Silver Lining zine goes online here at Just Eat The Cat! I'll be posting interviews, poems, essays, and other writings from friends around Chicago, Austin, the U.S., and the world at large. It's great stuff -- and better late than never! To kick things off, here's my interview with Ariel Gore, the author, zine publisher/editor, and Hip Mama who largely inspired Silver Lining (the zine and the Chicago writers group by the same name). Thank you, Ariel! And thank you to the contributors and readers for their talents, support, and patience. Viva 2008! - Erin
Erin: The Silver Lining zine's theme is making delicious, hilarious, rockin', and generally badass lemonade out of the lemons life inevitably hurls at us. Can you think of a specific silver-lining situation in your past, where you went from feeling downtrodden to feeling triumphant?
Ariel: Well, that's what it's ALL about, isn't it? I mean, you are born! What a fuck over! You get this human existence and you're wailing about it for a few minutes, and then you just have to say, well, all right, looks like I'm going to be here for a while, and the landscape IS strangely beautiful, I guess I might as well see if I can spread some love around. For me, success has been ALL about taking what the world told me was my handicap and turning that into my strength. Being a teen mom, you learn that real fast. When you have a kid as a teenager--ever an older teenager like I was--you can either be what the world tells you you can be, which is nothing, or you can just pack up and run away in the night and go to college and do your thing and be a bad-ass--sometimes awesome and sometimes tired and messed up--mama. The world told me I should be ashamed of myself, but I flaunted it: Yeah I'm a teenage welfare mother.
Your latest book is one of the best guides for writers I've ever read (and I've read tons). Would you give us a tidbit of writing advice you wish someone had given you along the way?
I'm so glad you like it! I think writers have to reimagine themselves as BOTH artists AND entrepreneurs. We have to dream big and work harder. We have to CREATE a context in which our work matters and makes sense. If you think of the beat writers or any creative community like that, they invented that grouping for themselves--they didn't wait around for some publisher to say, Hey, this might fit into a new little sub-genre I've been thiking about...
What do you think is the best advice for writers that, alas, must simply be learned the hard way?
Well, most writers are very sensitive. We dream of publishing and we dream of our work being loved and appreciated and accepted--and often our work is very personal so we interpret that love and appreciation and acceptance as being very personal, too, and when it all works we are happy and fufilled, but taking the praise personally sets us up, because someone is going to hate what we put out there. They are going to write shitty reviews of our genuine effort. And how can we not take that personally? Worse, someone is going to suddenly feel like it is his freaking CALLING to take us down a notch, and they're really going to get personal and ugly. This is more about being a public person than being a writer, but when you publish--even if only ten people read your work--you have become a public person, and humans are very, very cruel to each other.
Erin: The Silver Lining zine's theme is making delicious, hilarious, rockin', and generally badass lemonade out of the lemons life inevitably hurls at us. Can you think of a specific silver-lining situation in your past, where you went from feeling downtrodden to feeling triumphant?
Ariel: Well, that's what it's ALL about, isn't it? I mean, you are born! What a fuck over! You get this human existence and you're wailing about it for a few minutes, and then you just have to say, well, all right, looks like I'm going to be here for a while, and the landscape IS strangely beautiful, I guess I might as well see if I can spread some love around. For me, success has been ALL about taking what the world told me was my handicap and turning that into my strength. Being a teen mom, you learn that real fast. When you have a kid as a teenager--ever an older teenager like I was--you can either be what the world tells you you can be, which is nothing, or you can just pack up and run away in the night and go to college and do your thing and be a bad-ass--sometimes awesome and sometimes tired and messed up--mama. The world told me I should be ashamed of myself, but I flaunted it: Yeah I'm a teenage welfare mother.
Your latest book is one of the best guides for writers I've ever read (and I've read tons). Would you give us a tidbit of writing advice you wish someone had given you along the way?
I'm so glad you like it! I think writers have to reimagine themselves as BOTH artists AND entrepreneurs. We have to dream big and work harder. We have to CREATE a context in which our work matters and makes sense. If you think of the beat writers or any creative community like that, they invented that grouping for themselves--they didn't wait around for some publisher to say, Hey, this might fit into a new little sub-genre I've been thiking about...
What do you think is the best advice for writers that, alas, must simply be learned the hard way?
Well, most writers are very sensitive. We dream of publishing and we dream of our work being loved and appreciated and accepted--and often our work is very personal so we interpret that love and appreciation and acceptance as being very personal, too, and when it all works we are happy and fufilled, but taking the praise personally sets us up, because someone is going to hate what we put out there. They are going to write shitty reviews of our genuine effort. And how can we not take that personally? Worse, someone is going to suddenly feel like it is his freaking CALLING to take us down a notch, and they're really going to get personal and ugly. This is more about being a public person than being a writer, but when you publish--even if only ten people read your work--you have become a public person, and humans are very, very cruel to each other.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Where am I?
Just after my last post, I began my new job as literacy director for Open Books. I love this job like I love chips and salsa (but with the added satisfaction of making the world a better place instead of just making my stomach ache). I am not giving up on this site -- stay tuned for guest blogs from writers around Chicago and beyond! But for now, I just wanted to let my readers know that I haven't forgotten you, I wish you a wonderful holiday season with your families and friends, and until I write more original content again, I hope you will keep up with me in the following places:
Open Books
Open Books blog
The Hidden Mitten
All things Erin
LOVE & ADVENTURES,
Erin
Open Books
Open Books blog
The Hidden Mitten
All things Erin
LOVE & ADVENTURES,
Erin
Thursday, September 13, 2007
AUSTIN: The most adorable, rewarding half hour of your life!
Other potential subject lines for this post: "Won't someone think of the children?" and "This post is not about a rock show." ;)
Anyway, friends, have I got some fun for you! School has been in session now for three weeks, and teachers know enough about their students now to utilize volunteers. At Travis Heights Elementary, where I was a first grade teacher before I moved, they have a wonderful program called HOTS (Helping One Thunderbird Soar). It pairs an adult (YOU!) with a kid (GUARANTEED TO BE CUTE AND HILARIOUS AS HELL!*) who needs practice reading. All you do is show up for half an hour each week to sit and listen to your "reading buddy" in the colorfully cheerful yet suitably peaceful school library. (Remember how nice it was to be read to as a kid? It's still awesome as an adult.)
I was a HOTS mentor the year before I got my teaching certification and it was the best half hour of my week, every week. And you will be a highlight of your reading buddy's week -- giving a young child something extra to look forward to at school and, in some cases, the only grown-up who will give them undivided attention all week long. Think about that.
You don't have to be a teacher or anything remotely related -- you just have to be there for a kid. And in the end, I swear, you will feel like they're the ones helping you as much as vice versa. It's a truly crazy world we live in -- a world where Britney Spears somehow gets more attention than nuclear warheads accidentally flown over our country -- and this is a small but vital way to put your time into something that truly matters.
FYI, Travis Heights is located just south of downtown (between 35 and Congress, around Woodland/Annie) -- easy to get to and from on a lunch hour or before work. Oh, and the librarian who runs the program is a badass member of the Texas Rollergirls, so any friends of mine will probably love her. :)
If you're remotedly interested, you can message to ask me questions or just call the school at 414-4495 and ask for librarian Julie Underwood (AKA rollergirl Vendetta Von Dutch!). You can also go to my Myspace top friends and message Amber or Sarah -- both of them are going into their 3rd year as HOTS mentors and I know they love it!
The kids need y'all, and at the risk of sounding like a Texas car salesman (I can hear the voice in my head), you'll be glad you made the call! I gay-ron-tee!
LOVE & LITERACY,
Erin
P.S. -- CHICAGO folks, don't feel left out! I'll be back next week with info on how you can do your heart good by volunteering at Open Books. :) EVERYONE ELSE, call the school nearest you and ask how you can help. I'm sure they need you, too!
* Seriously, ask Amber about all the hysterical stuff her reading buddy told her this week during "getting to know you" time.
Anyway, friends, have I got some fun for you! School has been in session now for three weeks, and teachers know enough about their students now to utilize volunteers. At Travis Heights Elementary, where I was a first grade teacher before I moved, they have a wonderful program called HOTS (Helping One Thunderbird Soar). It pairs an adult (YOU!) with a kid (GUARANTEED TO BE CUTE AND HILARIOUS AS HELL!*) who needs practice reading. All you do is show up for half an hour each week to sit and listen to your "reading buddy" in the colorfully cheerful yet suitably peaceful school library. (Remember how nice it was to be read to as a kid? It's still awesome as an adult.)
I was a HOTS mentor the year before I got my teaching certification and it was the best half hour of my week, every week. And you will be a highlight of your reading buddy's week -- giving a young child something extra to look forward to at school and, in some cases, the only grown-up who will give them undivided attention all week long. Think about that.
You don't have to be a teacher or anything remotely related -- you just have to be there for a kid. And in the end, I swear, you will feel like they're the ones helping you as much as vice versa. It's a truly crazy world we live in -- a world where Britney Spears somehow gets more attention than nuclear warheads accidentally flown over our country -- and this is a small but vital way to put your time into something that truly matters.
FYI, Travis Heights is located just south of downtown (between 35 and Congress, around Woodland/Annie) -- easy to get to and from on a lunch hour or before work. Oh, and the librarian who runs the program is a badass member of the Texas Rollergirls, so any friends of mine will probably love her. :)
If you're remotedly interested, you can message to ask me questions or just call the school at 414-4495 and ask for librarian Julie Underwood (AKA rollergirl Vendetta Von Dutch!). You can also go to my Myspace top friends and message Amber or Sarah -- both of them are going into their 3rd year as HOTS mentors and I know they love it!
The kids need y'all, and at the risk of sounding like a Texas car salesman (I can hear the voice in my head), you'll be glad you made the call! I gay-ron-tee!
LOVE & LITERACY,
Erin
P.S. -- CHICAGO folks, don't feel left out! I'll be back next week with info on how you can do your heart good by volunteering at Open Books. :) EVERYONE ELSE, call the school nearest you and ask how you can help. I'm sure they need you, too!
* Seriously, ask Amber about all the hysterical stuff her reading buddy told her this week during "getting to know you" time.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Aug. 22, 2007: One of those perfect days.
Friends and readers, I am so excited I can scarcely sit still. My husband Patrick is almost done with his tour-de-force video game, John Woo Presents Stranglehold, the plumber has almost repaired the gaping black hole and corresponding rubble pile that has been my shower this week -- AND I JUST GOT A DREAM JOB!!!!!!!
I have known about the job possibility for months (and mentioned it around but didn't want to jinx it too much by writing about it). I wish I could tell all my friends about this face-to-face, but if I did, I'd pass out from the adreniline. So now that it's official, I can spill my guts! . . . (drum roll) . . . Yours truly is now the Literacy Director for Open Books! Excuse me for a second while I woo.
[WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!].
You may recall I wrote about my love of Open Books in a column for Chicago6Corners.com back in the spring, and I also worked with them on the recent blogathon raising money for Blue Gargoyle literacy center in Hyde Park. Quite simply, I love this organization. I am so thrilled to be joining the team as a full-time director. The mission -- fun with literacy -- is as close to my heart as it gets, and while I love writing peacefully in my lovely apartment, I'd rather do that as a side thing like I do my band. I'm happier that way, creatively. Less pressure (on my brain and my bank account). In the 8 years since I graduated from college, I have been (in order) a newspaper reporter, a day camp counselor in the Rocky Mts., a legal editor for the Texas Legislature, a 1st grade teacher, and a freelance writer slash uber volunteer all over Chicago. I had actually been crying to Patrick that, while it's been a huge blessing to have a year to work from home on my book and bands, I wished I could get paid to do the work I do as a volunteer. And then BOOM! I found this job a few days later.
Can you imagine my excitement when I first read the following online?! . . . Open Books, Chicago's first nonprofit literacy bookstore, is looking for the ideal person to create and direct our brand-new slate of unique literacy programs. Open Books is a two-storied vision: a funky, fun, colorful, and eccentric treasure trove of 50,000+ used books on the first floor, the sale of which fund a range of adult, family, and computer literacy programs upstairs. Our 8,000 sqft facility in the heart of the South Loop, including two state-of-the-art classrooms and a 15-seat computer lab, will open to the public in spring 2008. This is a dream way for me to combine my obsessions and experience with writing, reading, volunteerism, teaching, and community organizing!
The founders are two totally kickass women: smart, funny, creative, awesome co-workers-to-be. I could go on and on about what they've accomplished in a short time and what our dreams are for Open Books, but you'll just have to come see it for yourself as a volunteer! (Oh, the fun we will have in the name of a good cause! For example, inspired one afternoon by a whistling window on a U-Haul we'd just filled with donated books out, the executive director Stacy and I did nothing but sing songs with whistling in them -- or whose lyrics mention whistling, such as "Whistling in the Dark" by They Might Be Giants, which doesn't actually have any whistling, surprisingly. Thus I am going to have a boss with whom I've already harmonized on the chorus to G-n-R's "Patience." Yep. Rad.)
On top of everything, after I got the official job offer today, Stacy, Becca (the PR director), and I went over to see our new office at Chicago and Franklin. It's so cool! Hardwood floors, TONS of windows, a shower in the restroom (so I won't smell so bad after riding my bike to work every day), walls painted lots of gorgeous bright colors, and MY VERY OWN OFFICE (with its own window, too) for the first time in my life (since reporters just get desks in the middle of the bustling newsroom and teachers share their "offices" with a couple dozen kiddos, both of which have their charms, but still). I even got to pick out paint colors for each wall today (shades of sunshine yellow, tropical reddish-pink, and periwinkle blue, of course), and on Wednesday the three of us are going to IKEA in the bookmobile to buy whatever furniture we want! It's our choice because the place is new. AHHHHHH!!!!!! What is the word for being so completely beyond stoked that you could explode? (We'll also be stopping to pick up a giant, old-fashioned card catalogue that a library is donating. We'll keep our pens and post-it-notes in it, but mainly we want it around as a reminder of how much we love libraries and gloriously nerdy stuff like the Dewey Decimal System.)
My first project will be to work with a group of autistic teenagers who want to volunteer with us. We will teach them how to sort and categorize the boxes of donated books -- a task they chose because it's well-suited to their particular needs and skills. They'll get the satisfaction of contributing to their community and we'll get help with one of our biggest tasks (organizing the slew of storage units full of donated books that will eventually become the Open Books store). I'll also be helping Blue Gargoyle revamp their computer lab and, most importantly, creating a kickass slate of literacy programs for Open Books itself. I want our facility to be as beloved and beneficial on the south side as 826CHI is in Wicker Park.
Anyway, sorry this blog is so long. I just had to share my excitement about this next phase of my professional life. Plus I want a thorough record of this spectacular feeling -- that if you dedicate yourself to your passions and give your time and energy to your community, there is that wonderful chance that it can become your life's work.
LOVE & LITERACY,
Erin
P.S. -- CHICAGO FRIENDS, please come celebrate all this with me when I'm back from Seattle. Advance tickets for the Hidden Mitten shows in the first week of September -- marking mine and Garrett's birthdays, and the imminent birth of Melanie's son -- will be at doubledoor.com and Ticketweb for the show at the Note with Arks. Get your tix and put 9/4 and/or 9/7 on your calendar! AUSTIN FRIENDS, I hope to see you at Club DeVille and Elysium on Sunday, Sept. 9 for more revelry. Did I mention I will be STOKED and CELEBRATING? XOXOXO :)
I have known about the job possibility for months (and mentioned it around but didn't want to jinx it too much by writing about it). I wish I could tell all my friends about this face-to-face, but if I did, I'd pass out from the adreniline. So now that it's official, I can spill my guts! . . . (drum roll) . . . Yours truly is now the Literacy Director for Open Books! Excuse me for a second while I woo.
[WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!].
You may recall I wrote about my love of Open Books in a column for Chicago6Corners.com back in the spring, and I also worked with them on the recent blogathon raising money for Blue Gargoyle literacy center in Hyde Park. Quite simply, I love this organization. I am so thrilled to be joining the team as a full-time director. The mission -- fun with literacy -- is as close to my heart as it gets, and while I love writing peacefully in my lovely apartment, I'd rather do that as a side thing like I do my band. I'm happier that way, creatively. Less pressure (on my brain and my bank account). In the 8 years since I graduated from college, I have been (in order) a newspaper reporter, a day camp counselor in the Rocky Mts., a legal editor for the Texas Legislature, a 1st grade teacher, and a freelance writer slash uber volunteer all over Chicago. I had actually been crying to Patrick that, while it's been a huge blessing to have a year to work from home on my book and bands, I wished I could get paid to do the work I do as a volunteer. And then BOOM! I found this job a few days later.
Can you imagine my excitement when I first read the following online?! . . . Open Books, Chicago's first nonprofit literacy bookstore, is looking for the ideal person to create and direct our brand-new slate of unique literacy programs. Open Books is a two-storied vision: a funky, fun, colorful, and eccentric treasure trove of 50,000+ used books on the first floor, the sale of which fund a range of adult, family, and computer literacy programs upstairs. Our 8,000 sqft facility in the heart of the South Loop, including two state-of-the-art classrooms and a 15-seat computer lab, will open to the public in spring 2008. This is a dream way for me to combine my obsessions and experience with writing, reading, volunteerism, teaching, and community organizing!
The founders are two totally kickass women: smart, funny, creative, awesome co-workers-to-be. I could go on and on about what they've accomplished in a short time and what our dreams are for Open Books, but you'll just have to come see it for yourself as a volunteer! (Oh, the fun we will have in the name of a good cause! For example, inspired one afternoon by a whistling window on a U-Haul we'd just filled with donated books out, the executive director Stacy and I did nothing but sing songs with whistling in them -- or whose lyrics mention whistling, such as "Whistling in the Dark" by They Might Be Giants, which doesn't actually have any whistling, surprisingly. Thus I am going to have a boss with whom I've already harmonized on the chorus to G-n-R's "Patience." Yep. Rad.)
On top of everything, after I got the official job offer today, Stacy, Becca (the PR director), and I went over to see our new office at Chicago and Franklin. It's so cool! Hardwood floors, TONS of windows, a shower in the restroom (so I won't smell so bad after riding my bike to work every day), walls painted lots of gorgeous bright colors, and MY VERY OWN OFFICE (with its own window, too) for the first time in my life (since reporters just get desks in the middle of the bustling newsroom and teachers share their "offices" with a couple dozen kiddos, both of which have their charms, but still). I even got to pick out paint colors for each wall today (shades of sunshine yellow, tropical reddish-pink, and periwinkle blue, of course), and on Wednesday the three of us are going to IKEA in the bookmobile to buy whatever furniture we want! It's our choice because the place is new. AHHHHHH!!!!!! What is the word for being so completely beyond stoked that you could explode? (We'll also be stopping to pick up a giant, old-fashioned card catalogue that a library is donating. We'll keep our pens and post-it-notes in it, but mainly we want it around as a reminder of how much we love libraries and gloriously nerdy stuff like the Dewey Decimal System.)
My first project will be to work with a group of autistic teenagers who want to volunteer with us. We will teach them how to sort and categorize the boxes of donated books -- a task they chose because it's well-suited to their particular needs and skills. They'll get the satisfaction of contributing to their community and we'll get help with one of our biggest tasks (organizing the slew of storage units full of donated books that will eventually become the Open Books store). I'll also be helping Blue Gargoyle revamp their computer lab and, most importantly, creating a kickass slate of literacy programs for Open Books itself. I want our facility to be as beloved and beneficial on the south side as 826CHI is in Wicker Park.
Anyway, sorry this blog is so long. I just had to share my excitement about this next phase of my professional life. Plus I want a thorough record of this spectacular feeling -- that if you dedicate yourself to your passions and give your time and energy to your community, there is that wonderful chance that it can become your life's work.
LOVE & LITERACY,
Erin
P.S. -- CHICAGO FRIENDS, please come celebrate all this with me when I'm back from Seattle. Advance tickets for the Hidden Mitten shows in the first week of September -- marking mine and Garrett's birthdays, and the imminent birth of Melanie's son -- will be at doubledoor.com and Ticketweb for the show at the Note with Arks. Get your tix and put 9/4 and/or 9/7 on your calendar! AUSTIN FRIENDS, I hope to see you at Club DeVille and Elysium on Sunday, Sept. 9 for more revelry. Did I mention I will be STOKED and CELEBRATING? XOXOXO :)
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Eric and Angel, pt. 3
(Continued from previous post . . . )
I suppose there were things I could've told Eric and Angel about myself that would have explained, at least a little, why I was hanging out with strangers at the grocery store on a Saturday morning. Like how I must've subconsciously missed being a Girl Scout in the South, helping folks cross the street and carry their groceries. Or how I worshipped my parents, who were always involved with stuff like Meals on Wheels and the Vaughn House, an organization in Austin that helps people with multiple disabilities. Maybe I could have talked about how when I was a little kid, Mom, Dad, and I adopted a fluffy stray cat from an alley behind a club and named it Hearne, after our friends Bill and Bonnie Hearne, a couple of folk singers who had been playing there and who were both legally blind and physically challenged. And I definitely could have talked for hours about Joe B. Friedel, the great-grandfather who was larger than life to me until he died when I was 16 and whose eyes I never got to see.
I had always known Grandpa Friedel to be completely blind, since he was shot by a friend in a hunting accident in his 20s. Some of my fondest childhood memories include him: going for walks in the tiny town of Graham, Texas, when my family visited every summer, him using a cane like Eric and me holding on like Angel; playing dominoes together at the kitchen table (the black pieces dotted by white indentions Joe. B. could feel); buying hair metal magazines from the Woolworth's and reading them in the living room while Grandpa sat in his easy chair; listening to his famous stories of running a soda stand at the county courthouse downtown; laughing hysterically when he returned from the town square one day with my tiny sister Meg, boasting of how he had asked the clerk for a marriage license for the two of them (who were not only related but about 80 years apart in age). Once, the town newspaper, the Graham Leader, published a photo (near Meg's and my favorite section, the police blotter) announcing with joy that my sister, my cousin, and I were coming for a visit.
I could have told Eric and Angel all that. (I also could've told them that sometimes I wonder if I'll ever fit in anywhere like I used to in Texas and that helping people makes me feel like at least I'm doing what I can to be a good neighbor.) But I really just wanted to hear their stories and bask in such a beautiful friendship, so I kept myself to myself. I didn't even really think about all of the above until I finally made it home from the gym.
My time with Eric and Angel today wasn't some epic event. I doubt I changed their lives at all -- they were doing just fine together without me and I'm sure they still will. But meeting them was special to me, more than words can say. A beloved family member is nearing the end of his life right now -- this post is already too long, so I'll save that for another day -- but suffice it to say that lately I've been thinking a lot of about disability, illness, and how we handle life's challenges. I've also been thinking, as I tend to do, about how to make sure this life is lived to the fullest. Eric and Angel were a ray of sunshine in my day, an example of what's really important in this too-short life. I hope they made it to the park today. I hope Eric feels at home in Texas. And I hope Angel gets to visit him there.
I suppose there were things I could've told Eric and Angel about myself that would have explained, at least a little, why I was hanging out with strangers at the grocery store on a Saturday morning. Like how I must've subconsciously missed being a Girl Scout in the South, helping folks cross the street and carry their groceries. Or how I worshipped my parents, who were always involved with stuff like Meals on Wheels and the Vaughn House, an organization in Austin that helps people with multiple disabilities. Maybe I could have talked about how when I was a little kid, Mom, Dad, and I adopted a fluffy stray cat from an alley behind a club and named it Hearne, after our friends Bill and Bonnie Hearne, a couple of folk singers who had been playing there and who were both legally blind and physically challenged. And I definitely could have talked for hours about Joe B. Friedel, the great-grandfather who was larger than life to me until he died when I was 16 and whose eyes I never got to see.
I had always known Grandpa Friedel to be completely blind, since he was shot by a friend in a hunting accident in his 20s. Some of my fondest childhood memories include him: going for walks in the tiny town of Graham, Texas, when my family visited every summer, him using a cane like Eric and me holding on like Angel; playing dominoes together at the kitchen table (the black pieces dotted by white indentions Joe. B. could feel); buying hair metal magazines from the Woolworth's and reading them in the living room while Grandpa sat in his easy chair; listening to his famous stories of running a soda stand at the county courthouse downtown; laughing hysterically when he returned from the town square one day with my tiny sister Meg, boasting of how he had asked the clerk for a marriage license for the two of them (who were not only related but about 80 years apart in age). Once, the town newspaper, the Graham Leader, published a photo (near Meg's and my favorite section, the police blotter) announcing with joy that my sister, my cousin, and I were coming for a visit.
I could have told Eric and Angel all that. (I also could've told them that sometimes I wonder if I'll ever fit in anywhere like I used to in Texas and that helping people makes me feel like at least I'm doing what I can to be a good neighbor.) But I really just wanted to hear their stories and bask in such a beautiful friendship, so I kept myself to myself. I didn't even really think about all of the above until I finally made it home from the gym.
My time with Eric and Angel today wasn't some epic event. I doubt I changed their lives at all -- they were doing just fine together without me and I'm sure they still will. But meeting them was special to me, more than words can say. A beloved family member is nearing the end of his life right now -- this post is already too long, so I'll save that for another day -- but suffice it to say that lately I've been thinking a lot of about disability, illness, and how we handle life's challenges. I've also been thinking, as I tend to do, about how to make sure this life is lived to the fullest. Eric and Angel were a ray of sunshine in my day, an example of what's really important in this too-short life. I hope they made it to the park today. I hope Eric feels at home in Texas. And I hope Angel gets to visit him there.
Eric and Angel, pt. 2
(Continued from previous post . . .)
After hustling to catch up with the two friends at the intersection, I said hi, and we exchanged the usual neighborly pleasantries. The tall man was named Eric and he had one clear, dark eye and one cloudy, white eye with bloodshot veins like red lightning cross-crossing the blue iris. The smaller man, Angel, had two eyes that looked like his friend's stormy one. They could have been about 30 like me, but lacking all the usual Wicker Park trappings -- Art+Science hairdos, skinny jeans, "vintage" tees, and too-cool-for-school expressions -- it was truly hard for me to tell.
When I remarked about what a beautiful day it was, I was half talking about the breeze and half talking about these two people, holding onto each other in such an unselfconscious, public display of friendship. As we crossed Milwaukee Avenue to the store, Eric grinned and said, with no self-pity or sadness in his voice, "If I had the fare, I'd take Angel on the bus to the beach." It was so sweet, my heart could barely take it.
I didn't need anything from the store and I didn't want to be a (bigger) weirdo, so we said our goodbyes and again I started walking away. Again I made it only half a block. Our minute just didn't feel like enough. What if I was supposed to meet Eric and Angel for a reason? I raced back across the street to the Aldi, said an awkward "hi, I'm back and I'm procrastinating on going to the gym," and offered to take over for the security guard who was going to help them shop. Of course, I'm really glad I did.
It's not like anything superspecial happened. They didn't whisper the meaning of life to me while we picked out flavors of chips (original Pringles for Eric, sour cream and onion for Angel), and I had to run and ask the security guard where the chicken legs were while the guys waited in the aisle for me, holding onto the cart as other shoppers maneuvered around them. I felt a little stupid. But still. If I had just gone to the gym, I would have always wondered about Eric and Angel.
Turns out they'd been friends a long time, since they'd met at a job that had since laid them off. Eric lives near me but he's moving to a tiny town ("only 12 blocks long!") outside Lubbock, Texas, next week. He's got family there. Angel lives in another area of Chicago and was just coming to Wicker Park for the day to visit his friend. "Maybe I'll take Angel to the park today," Eric said. Angel vowed to go to Texas to visit, too, even though I'm not sure how he'd afford it. He told me about living in Florida for two years and losing his house because of a girlfriend. "People don't help each other enough and sometimes they try to take advantage of us, even though we don't have anything." "But we get along fine," Eric added. I wanted to know about why they were blind and where they lived and all that stuff, but I knew it would be crossing the line, even for me, to ask all that.
(To be continued . . . )
After hustling to catch up with the two friends at the intersection, I said hi, and we exchanged the usual neighborly pleasantries. The tall man was named Eric and he had one clear, dark eye and one cloudy, white eye with bloodshot veins like red lightning cross-crossing the blue iris. The smaller man, Angel, had two eyes that looked like his friend's stormy one. They could have been about 30 like me, but lacking all the usual Wicker Park trappings -- Art+Science hairdos, skinny jeans, "vintage" tees, and too-cool-for-school expressions -- it was truly hard for me to tell.
When I remarked about what a beautiful day it was, I was half talking about the breeze and half talking about these two people, holding onto each other in such an unselfconscious, public display of friendship. As we crossed Milwaukee Avenue to the store, Eric grinned and said, with no self-pity or sadness in his voice, "If I had the fare, I'd take Angel on the bus to the beach." It was so sweet, my heart could barely take it.
I didn't need anything from the store and I didn't want to be a (bigger) weirdo, so we said our goodbyes and again I started walking away. Again I made it only half a block. Our minute just didn't feel like enough. What if I was supposed to meet Eric and Angel for a reason? I raced back across the street to the Aldi, said an awkward "hi, I'm back and I'm procrastinating on going to the gym," and offered to take over for the security guard who was going to help them shop. Of course, I'm really glad I did.
It's not like anything superspecial happened. They didn't whisper the meaning of life to me while we picked out flavors of chips (original Pringles for Eric, sour cream and onion for Angel), and I had to run and ask the security guard where the chicken legs were while the guys waited in the aisle for me, holding onto the cart as other shoppers maneuvered around them. I felt a little stupid. But still. If I had just gone to the gym, I would have always wondered about Eric and Angel.
Turns out they'd been friends a long time, since they'd met at a job that had since laid them off. Eric lives near me but he's moving to a tiny town ("only 12 blocks long!") outside Lubbock, Texas, next week. He's got family there. Angel lives in another area of Chicago and was just coming to Wicker Park for the day to visit his friend. "Maybe I'll take Angel to the park today," Eric said. Angel vowed to go to Texas to visit, too, even though I'm not sure how he'd afford it. He told me about living in Florida for two years and losing his house because of a girlfriend. "People don't help each other enough and sometimes they try to take advantage of us, even though we don't have anything." "But we get along fine," Eric added. I wanted to know about why they were blind and where they lived and all that stuff, but I knew it would be crossing the line, even for me, to ask all that.
(To be continued . . . )
Eric and Angel, pt. 1
Today I met two people who reminded me that friendship is what makes life worth living. Their names are Eric and Angel, and I hope someday I see them again -- even if they won't ever be able to see me.
I'd just seen Patrick off to work after our morning walk, during which I'd been lamenting again about how people can be such jerky drivers. It never fails that someone almost mows me down on Wabansia Street even though they have a stop sign AND had just had the same sign a block before (meaning they'd gone from zero to daredevil speed in just a few feet for no good reason other than, I don't know, wasting gas). I was tired from rockin' out last night with the Hidden Mitten -- indeed fairly convinced I'd given myself whiplash thrashing around during the "Meltdown" outro -- but I was dragging my ass to the gym anyway. Another spacey Saturday, waiting for Patrick to get home from work.
And then I saw them: two blind men trying to navigate the bustling, construction-clogged streets of my neighborhood. One was tall and black and lumbering, tapping condo walls and parking meters with his cane. The other was smaller, Hispanic, with curled wrists and a labored gait, the results of some handicap or illness I couldn't place. They linked arms and held onto each other, smiling in the sunlight as they walked, slowly but surely, down my street. Other people whizzed by on their weekend jogs or coffee runs, and as I passed the men in the crosswalk at Wabansia, I heard one say kindly to the other, "We're almost to the Aldi." Apparently, they were going grocery shopping together at the discount store down the way.
I walked half a block in the other direction and had to stop. I know it sounds crazy, but I was trying not to cry. I wish you could have seen these two -- so good to each other, just in a simple act most of us take for granted, walking to the store. I don't know if it was the writer in me or the whole daughter-of-a-social-worker thing, but my heart absolutely ached to know these men's stories. I knew turning around was ridiculous, but there was no way I could go to the stupid gym now. Not by myself, on such a gorgeous day. Not to bop up and down to vapid dance remixes and futilely obsess over those five last mythic pounds every woman wants to lose. Not with my emotional wiring.
I have recently, officially come to embrace my mantra -- that everyone we meet can teach us something, impact us, maybe even change the course of our lives or the world. Of course, it helps that I like to talk to people, and that I believe strongly in following your heart and going with your gut. So I turned around.
(To be contined . . .)
I'd just seen Patrick off to work after our morning walk, during which I'd been lamenting again about how people can be such jerky drivers. It never fails that someone almost mows me down on Wabansia Street even though they have a stop sign AND had just had the same sign a block before (meaning they'd gone from zero to daredevil speed in just a few feet for no good reason other than, I don't know, wasting gas). I was tired from rockin' out last night with the Hidden Mitten -- indeed fairly convinced I'd given myself whiplash thrashing around during the "Meltdown" outro -- but I was dragging my ass to the gym anyway. Another spacey Saturday, waiting for Patrick to get home from work.
And then I saw them: two blind men trying to navigate the bustling, construction-clogged streets of my neighborhood. One was tall and black and lumbering, tapping condo walls and parking meters with his cane. The other was smaller, Hispanic, with curled wrists and a labored gait, the results of some handicap or illness I couldn't place. They linked arms and held onto each other, smiling in the sunlight as they walked, slowly but surely, down my street. Other people whizzed by on their weekend jogs or coffee runs, and as I passed the men in the crosswalk at Wabansia, I heard one say kindly to the other, "We're almost to the Aldi." Apparently, they were going grocery shopping together at the discount store down the way.
I walked half a block in the other direction and had to stop. I know it sounds crazy, but I was trying not to cry. I wish you could have seen these two -- so good to each other, just in a simple act most of us take for granted, walking to the store. I don't know if it was the writer in me or the whole daughter-of-a-social-worker thing, but my heart absolutely ached to know these men's stories. I knew turning around was ridiculous, but there was no way I could go to the stupid gym now. Not by myself, on such a gorgeous day. Not to bop up and down to vapid dance remixes and futilely obsess over those five last mythic pounds every woman wants to lose. Not with my emotional wiring.
I have recently, officially come to embrace my mantra -- that everyone we meet can teach us something, impact us, maybe even change the course of our lives or the world. Of course, it helps that I like to talk to people, and that I believe strongly in following your heart and going with your gut. So I turned around.
(To be contined . . .)
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