I’ve said often that I consider Dorothy Sayers’ Gaudy Night, written in 1936, to be the greatest novel of the 20th century. I’ve been reminded a number of times recently of this little exchange between Lord Peter Wimsey and the woman he loves, Harriet Vane. Peter had fought in World War I and been badly traumatized by his role as an officer, having to send men off into battle.
future
Fuzzy Finish Lines
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about finish lines, especially in how we view big projects and how we think they’ll advance. We look forward, we long, for the day when everything is done. It seems as if it will never happen. And then, gradually, the pieces start falling into place. It’s not one big ta-da moment like a horse crossing the finish line but a succession. There are bumps and reversals and then bursts of progress. This past Sunday, for instance, was a burst. The in-laws were off on a square-dancing trip until Sunday afternoon, and Jan’s daughter and her husband wanted to come over that evening.
Covey Gleanings
I am plowing through the Covey book, and maybe you should, too.
I’m at the beginning of chapter 13, so only 95 more to go. Mercy! I can’t even begin to imagine what he can possibly go on about for that long, but at this point we haven’t even gotten to the first highly effective habit; he’s still hammering away at his introductory stuff.
I’ve said several times already that the book is boring, but that’s not quite the right word. It’s just very, very dense, and he has all these proverb-like sentences that make me feel that I should be writing them down, or cross-stitching them, or something. I just cheated and went onto BrainyQuote to look at ome of his sayings. Follow the link to get a sampling.
Every Day You Live . . .
. . . is one less day you have left.
Sound morbid? It’s not. I quoted my dear friend Nancy’s father, something said at his funeral and which I wrote about last summer:
“What you do today is important, because you are exchanging a day of your life for it.”
Nothing Is Work if You Enjoy It.
Today’s pretty happy around our house. My son, Gideon, was informed today that he has been accepted in the MFA program in creative writing at Virginia Tech. Getting to this point has been a long, long process that actually started well over a year ago when Gideon was a senior in college. At that point he really wanted to go to grad school and worked pretty hard on writing all the ridiculous stuff that the various schools required—mission statements,
Nothing Gold Can Stay.
Robert Frost wrote:
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay
The Next 52 Days
I just went over the calendar from now until May 13, which is 52 days (not counting today, but counting that last day). Sometimes we get really ramped up over the very short term (what’s going to happen this week) or the very long term (what’s going to happen in the next year), and we don’t think in the medium term. So it struck me this morning that there are several pretty big events (PBE’s) that are going to take place over these next 7 ½ weeks:
Figuring out the Final Happiness Quotient.
Two events coming up for me, one very long-range and one occurring next week:
The long-range one is a trip that Jim and I are discussing that we’d like to take for our 25th wedding anniversary, which takes place on May 30. We’ve decided that we’re going to go to France, probably sometime in September when the tourist tsunami has passed but the weather is still nice. Right now the trip is in the “wouldn’t it be fun” phase.
Don’t Lose Sight of the Small Things You Can Do.
Betcha been wondering when I was going to refer to the Gretchen Rubin podcast again, right? I think it’s been two weeks or so.
So, for a little background: I am obsessed with the upcoming election. (I don’t post anything partisan on this blog; if you want to know my take on the matter, click on the “Personal and Political” tab above.) I have a couple of news sources that come directly to my inbox, and I find it very hard to get started on my day without reading at least some of the articles posted there.
An Affecting but Erudite Memoir
In a Dark Wood: What Dante Taught Me About Grief, Healing, and the Mysteries of Love by Joseph Luzzi, HarperCollins, 2015.
Joseph Luzzi had just started teaching his mid-morning class at Bard College in November 2007 when he saw a security guard standing at his door. “Are you Professor Luzzi? Please come with me.” As Luzzi reached the outside of the building, he heard the words that would forever change his world: “Joe, your wife’s had a terrible accident.”