I can't sleep…
DK Photo @ 7:27 am this morning. Sunrise on Christmas Day. 13° F, feels like -2° F. 7:20 to 7:30 am. December 25, 2022. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this morning’s walk here: 1) Frozen Seagrass Photos, 2) Twilight photos, 3) Sunrise photos.
hello friends, wally here. happy christmas eve. i’m trying to lift the spirits here, where its a bit heavy, but not sure how to turn up my cute any higher. mom got teary eyed about dad’s youngest brother lorne who died on christmas eve 3 years ago. dad who doesn’t forget / let go of anything, stared blank faced, and walked away. with this giant hole, and dana (DANA!) being away, and that we haven’t seen eric since she left, and rachel and andrew sleeping till 11am, its very quiet around here, so i hang out and wrestle with sully, my brother. dad told me to say brother and not uncle, nephew, cousin or some other nonsense that mom keeps spewing, like she knows. dad went out on his walk this morning, came back with a chill, still chilled, worse than damn antarctica he called it. it sure must be cold in antarctica. i found the warmest vent in the house in the main floor bathroom so i plopped right down on it and took a nap. mom said i’ve got more presents than anyone, and so many from dad’s work friend caroline. i asked dad if i could open a few, and dad said no chance and that i have to wait, bah! neighbor Sue gave us a soft and cuddly blanket with frenchies on it, we love it so much. sully and i take turns sleeping on it. i’m so excited about tomorrow morning to open my presents. have a great day everyone.
There are a few hours each year that belong to no day. The no-man’s land, between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning…
Morning kneels quietly at our feet, opening its pale palms out to us.
Merry Christmas, lovely, he says, so gently…
Look outside! The daughter is practically screaming. During the no-man’s hours, it has snowed. It is not that thick, muzzle-clean snow, but it is enough to glaze the landscape with a pure sheet of ivory light. Enough to give us all the sense that time has paused, just for today. We decide that seeing something for the first time is much the same as seeing it for the last.
Let it snow
Let it snow
Let it snow
— Maddie Mortimer, Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies (Picador; March 31, 2022)
Portrait of Maddie Mortimer from The Times
Even as a child, I understood that families like mine, poor rural farmers, were low in the pecking order. Television shows and movies portrayed us as buffoons and hicks, always the butt of the joke. Our presumed incivility, and even monstrousness, was suggested in conversations, often to laughter, by humming the banjo tune from the 1972 film “Deliverance,” present in many VHS collections during my 1980s childhood. “Squeal like a pig,” some jokers continued — a reference to that film’s infamous rape scene.
We didn’t need those cues to know that society held us in low esteem, though. All we had to do was look at our bank accounts.
We worked the land and killed animals so that others would eat, so that we would afford propane for the winter, and so that the rich, rigged industry we supplied grain to would become a little richer.
The profound humility instilled in me by my upbringing left no room in my worldview for exceptionalism of any sort. It also left me troubled by the ways that most humans calculate the value of things — animals, plants, land, water, resources, even other people — according to hierarchies that suit their own interests.
More than once, while wrapping meat, I sliced my finger on the sharp edge of the butcher paper. There was nothing special about my blood. It was red just like the pigs’ and the cows’. It was clear to me that there was nothing special about me or my family, either, doing that most essential work of feeding others. Nothing special but also nothing lesser.
— Sarah Smarsh, excerpts from an essay titled “What Growing Up on a Farm Taught Me About Humility” (NY Times, December 21, 2022). Smarsh is the author of “Heartland: A Memoir of Working Hard and Being Broke in the Richest Country on Earth.” (Named a Best Book of the Year by NPR, New York Post, BuzzFeed, Shelf Awareness, Bustle, and Publishers Weekly)
Encourage all to read the entire essay….
Wally’s Great Adventures (24). hello friends, wally here. short update. PG-13 rating on the opening picture, and it’s disturbing, i know. dad said he would never let mom turn me into a circus monkey. but here we are. and you are probably asking why the hell a lemur is splayed out in wally’s bed and where the hell is wally. anyhoo, sully has been visiting this week and he’ll be here for most of december as rachel and andrew (sully’s mom and dad) are going sunning in florida and as dad would say, they’re dumping sully here for free better-than-kennel services. but such a win win for me as i get to play with my BFF for almost a month. dana left today to visit her family for christmas. dad was still recovering from the pedicure tragedy yesterday when the two came down the stairs in MATCHING SWEATERS and get this, MATCHING SOCKS. i’ve never seen dad run faster to grab his camera. Dad was snapping one shot after another mumbling to himself ‘is this the face of mary magdalene? just has to be.’ dana is coming back the day after christmas so it’s not too long because i’ll miss dana’s squeezy hugs. dad said dana better not stay away too long or we will have the old eric back (BD-before dana) and that just won’t do now that we have seen the new and so so so much improved eric. that’s all for today everyone, back to nap time. Wally.
