The Empty Room

The other day I was sitting in my living room with my two friends, Judy and Sue, who make up my writing trio.  We take turns meeting at each other's house for dinner once a month and this month it was my turn.  I made salad with pears, walnuts, blue cheese and mustard vinaigrette. Then I served spaghetti. Then for dessert, we had cherry cobbler with vanilla ice cream.

Comfort food eaten in front of the fireplace on a cold, dark, autumn night when we all needed a little comfort.

I told them a little bit about how over-whelmed I was feeling. How I had way too many obligations to do things I simply didn't want to do. How I had no time to work on my writing, which was the whole point of rearranging my life and maintaining a writing studio.

My friend Judy suggested this:

Think of my life as a room.  Imagine taking everything out until it is completely empty. Then, after much consideration, start letting things back in - but only things I truly love and feel passionate about - nothing can come in if "obligation" is the only thing it has going for it.

Later, after they left, I did quite a bit of thinking about this.  What exactly would I let back into my "room?" Family, of course, writing and managing writing programs at my studio, teaching at the local college and occasional volunteer work.

What didn't make the cut?  Committee or board work of any kind. Intense sewing to deadlines. Freelance work for somebody else. Projects or events that require me to do the planning.

Tom and I have about cornered the market on being helpful over the years - we want to have a period of time when no one counts on us for anything (except our family).  No one should plan on us attending any function or managing any problem. I don't want commitments or deadlines.

We just want to work on our own art and plan our lives around that.  Once I got that figured out in my head - it truly felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel and I should be able to make it to next summer, when the timeline for our commitments comes to an end.

Things are looking up!

Restless

I'm feeling restless.

Suddenly all the things I've loved to do for years are just too annoying to continue.

I'm tired of quilting, I'm tired of all my writing projects, I'm tired of volunteering. I'm tired of my hair, my clothes, my shoes, my house. I'm tired of this place I have spent my whole life and will likely spend the rest of it until they put my boring, adventure-less body into the ground.

I want to never go to another meeting. I want no one to count on me for anything. I want to throw caution to the wind and buy a whole new wardrobe. I want to get in my car and drive without worry about where I'm going and if I'll have enough money when I get there.

 I want to buy beautiful expensive shoes and not have them hurt my feet. Perhaps they would even look like the ones I show here. These are the shoes of a baby who will never be boring or invisible. She will dance through life and travel the world. She will never be stuck in the same place, following some pre-determined life path. I have never owned a pair of shoes that could do that for me.

I know that half the secret of being happy and content with life is to make the conscious decision to be that way. But what happens if the time times when, no matter how optimistic a person tries to be, it just ain't cutting it?

I had such high hopes for accomplishing so much with this life I have - I felt sure I was on that path - but right now I feel in serious danger of going out with a whimper and barely a sign that I was here.

And if I feel that way now, in November, what's it going to be like in February in the dead of winter when it really feels like life will never be interesting again?

I think I'm in attitude trouble.

typewriter update

I  realized that I had not updated the wish I made for a typewriter for my birthday last May.

We looked around for the little black Royal typewriter that the company still makes, but it could only be special ordered and I couldn't see it in person.  I was a little concerned because the new typewriter was all made of plastic.

Then, I remembered something that was sitting on my bookshelf in the office among the Hemingway books.  It was a typewriter someone found for me years ago at a garage sale.  At the time I just wanted it for decoration, so I put it on the shelf and sort of forgot about it - especially after Tom propped one of his photographs in front of it and was using it as an easel.

But when I remembered it, I pulled it down and took a look.  It is a metal portable typewriter, just like I was looking for.  It was kind of grungy, but Tom cleaned it up for me and we ordered a new ribbon on-line for a few dollars and there it is!

Tom looked up the model number and found out it was made in the 1940's and this model was one of Hemingway's favorite typewriters.

Although it has a very "soft" touch, it's still difficult for these fingers who have only used electric typewriters and computer keyboards to push down hard enough to get a good strike.  But I use it for what I had originally thought I would do, type an occasional poem that I want to look old-fashioned and aged.

Slow writing is a great thing.

Family First

Sloan, heading off for her last year of college

I talked with my daughter, Sloan, yesterday and we discussed my feelings about her moving away. This wasn't new to her, but perhaps she didn't quite know how deeply I felt.

She told me that she would always keep in mind the idea of returning home and she wouldn't put herself in a situation where that simply wasn't an option.

That made me feel much better, but so did acknowledging to myself that I had the right to feel the way I do.

I talk to other women and it seems that everyone has some story about how their children moved away and they were just fine with it because, of course, they "only wanted them to be happy." They imply that I don't want that for her and, because my other two children live nearby, I should somehow be satisfied and stop whining about missing the third one.

Nope. Doesn't work that way with me.

There are many things I love and appreciate in this life, but my family is the only thing about which I am passionate.  I worked very hard; emotionally, financially and physically, to pull this little family of ours together and will continue to work at it until the day I die.  If I lost every other friend in this world, as long as I had my family, I would be just fine. They are the people I most want to spend time with. It is "us against the world."

So, I give myself permission to feel like this. I give myself permission to miss my daughter, dote on my grandchildren, prefer the company of my husband, and put all of them above and before anything else in my life.

Now, I feel happier.

Lost?

Sloan

On August 2 we moved our beautiful daughter to North Carolina where she had taken a job as a special education teacher.

It has been two full months now and during that time I have kept myself extremely busy and tried very hard not to think about it too much. But, last night I was driving home from my writing group with a dear friend, Judy, who is kind and spiritual and understanding and I began telling her a few things.

I haven't wanted to talk about it, and I certainly haven't wanted to write about it. It just felt like, if I let down my guard, it would be like opening a vein and the hemorrhaging would begin.

I know that lots of people's children move away and they cope just fine and I should just grow up and stop being so dramatic about it.  But the fact is, I'm not like a lot of other people and,  although I'm not really a dramatic person, I have very deep feelings when it comes to my family.

For one thing, our family doesn't move away. They just don't. Grandparents, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins - alive or dead - they are all still here in Michigan. Why does it have to be my daughter who decides she must leave?

I have an acquaintance who constantly complains about how her daughters are scattered all over the country and I always think to myself "Good Lord! If you were my mother, I'd move as far away as I could get too!"  Is this my punishment for thinking such unkind thoughts?

Now that my mother has passed away, I am surrounded by males: husband, sons, grandsons, brothers. I have two daughters-in-law, but they are busy with their work and families and they have their own mothers to dote on. I feel like I have no "soft place to fall."

I wanted a daughter so badly when Sloan was born and I delighted in raising her, but always felt it wasn't enough time. I am greedy for more. I was looking forward to relating to her as an adult, and certainly I know that I can do that to some degree even though she's far away. But there will be no casual drop-ins, no last minute lunches, no shopping trips just for fun. And when she has a family, I won't be the grandma the kids want to spend time with.

I know she felt she needed to find her own way in the world, and I was determined that I would not be the one to clip her wings. But, time is on her side and it's not on mine. I'm afraid that I will never again be able to spend any significant amount of time with her, that our visits together will be superficial at best, and time constricted at worst.

My heart hurts and I feel I have lost something irreplaceable. And this is why I haven't been able to write about it. For now I'll put on a tourniquet and think about it later when I'm stronger.
    

Time - the Speed Racer

Coach Max holding Weston at the soccer game

The other day I was babysitting two of my grandsons, Nolan (3 years) and Weston (8 months), who are my #2 son's children, when my oldest son, Caleb,  stopped by with his baby, Huxley (5 months). Max came to get the boys a short time later and I was in the unusual position of sitting there watching my "baby boys" sitting on the floor and playing with their baby boys.

This picture is of Max holding Weston while he coaches Nolan's soccer team. Tom used to do that identical thing with Max himself - hold him while he ran up and down the sidelines coaching Caleb's team. Sometimes when I cuddle one of the babies I find myself thinking that I was doing the same to my own babies only a couple of weeks ago ..... wasn't it?  But, when reality hits I know that, since the kids are 33, 27 and 23, it's been a bit longer than that.

I have reached an age when time has collapsed in on itself and is in a race to speed along much faster than I can stop and pay attention to it. It's really kind of scary and I look for the emergency brake handle to pull so it will slow down - but there is no brake to be had.

 

What, me worry?

Nolan in his green and white "Michigan State" shirt



A

A couple of days ago, I picked up my 3-year-old grandson, Nolan, from day care and took him back to my house for a while until his Dad could come get him.

As we pulled into my driveway he asked me if Aunt Sunny (our daughter Sloan) was there. I had tried to explain to him in the past that Sunny moved to North Carolina a few weeks ago, but he's used to her being away to college and coming home to visit on a fairly regular basis. It's hard for him to understand that she is not going to be around much any more.

I told him that, no Sunny wasn't there, she moved far, far away and we would only get to see her once in a while from now on.

"It makes Grandma very sad," I said.
"I'm not sad," he said, which surprised me. Sunny is definitely one of his favorite people in the world - when she's around, the rest of us are invisible.
"You're not? I thought you really liked hanging out with Sunny."

I came around to his side of the car and began unbuckling his car seat.
"Oh, I love her," he said. "I'm just not going to worry about it."

Such wisdom from the mouth of babes!

Autumnal Equinox

It's officially autumn today and soon the trees around here in Michigan will ease into color.  It's my favorite time of year, one I look forward to, but one that goes too quickly. It's hard to believe that September is almost gone.

Each fall I do a couple things to try to celebrate it, capture it and slow it down.

One thing is, I get out my fall/Halloween quilt projects and work on them at least until the end of October.  They are a couple of projects I have been picking away at for a few years now, and I won't finish them this year either, but it's fun to sew on them while the season is in gear.

The second thing is, I get out my "October Notebook" and I write about autumn things. I like to write up a few simple memoir essays about Halloween from when the kids where small. I also have a character I write short stories about (set only in the fall, with a creepy undercurrent) and each year I write another short story in that series.

And lastly, each year I re-read Ray Bradbury's "Something Wicked This Way Comes." It's absolutely one of the best books set in October ever written - and creepy too.

A Little Piece of my Heart

Last weekend we moved our daughter, Sloan, to North Carolina so she can start her job as a special education teacher.  This is the photo she posted with her boyfriend, Joey, and her car packed to the roof.  Our car was just ahead of her and also packed just as full.

I've been saying all along, that this was the day I was dreading for years - ever since she went away to college and made it abundantly clear that she would not be living in Michigan when she finished. Or if she did, it would have to be somewhere a whole lot cooler than our little town.

Secretly I was hoping she would go off to Michigan State University and fall in love with some fellow Michigander who had every intention of staying in-state. But, no! She had to go fall for some guy who lives in North Carolina, who really had no interest in leaving his state. (It helps a little that he's a really good guy.) So, off she went to NC this spring for job interviews and she got the first one she interviewed with! She needed a roommate, and found one through her Young Life channels - and it was someone who was already down there, so the roommate did all the hard work of finding an apartment.  Everything just seemed to fall easily into place.  Even the mattress store, where we needed to buy her a new bed, was simply across the road from her apartment complex and we didn't have to go driving up and down the highway with a mattress strapped to the top of the car.

I'm a big believer in signs, and maybe because all of this fell so easily into place, it really was meant to be. I'm trying hard to reconcile that with my feelings of losing my daughter to a state that's 14 hours away! And now North Carolina holds a little piece of my heart.

Home from Yosemite

Tom and I are home from our long-awaited trip to Yosemite, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks in California. This is a photo (not mine) of the giant sequoia trees that are part of that area. They are simply impossible to take a photograph of - a person just has to see them in person to get an idea of what they are like.

One of the things that effected me the most on this trip - and something that kind of surprised me too - was the narrow, winding, twisting, HELLISH roads throughout the parks. They just really dominated the day since that was the only way to get to and around the parks.  It was the only thing I've been inspired to write about from that trip so far.

But, I'm sure than once I've been home for a while, unpack, and settle into my regular schedule, I'll think about the things we saw and be able to be a little more creative. This is to be the summer I push and finish the National Park book of essays I've been working on for five years.  It should be a fun project to work on during these "easier" summer days.

My Three (Grand) Sons

Nolan (left) and Weston looking at Huxley
(not sure what Max is doing to his arm in the background.)

With the birth of my latest grandson on May 9 we are set with three little boys in the family.
Nolan John Thomas - 3 years
Weston Max - 4 months
Huxley Don - 14 days

There honestly was a time when I didn't think I would ever have grandchildren. I don't believe in rushing my children to have children of their own.... but I was wondering if I would be too decrepit to even enjoy little ones once it finally happened.

But, now they're here, and they all live nearby. And I can do all the "Grandma" things I like to do - make them quilts, write poetry about them, take lots of pictures, buy too many toys, and add them to my blog whenever possible.

It was always my goal to have my grandchildren love the idea of coming to grandma and grandpa's house. When they walk in the door, I want them to know they are the best thing I've seen all day. I remember that look from my own grandmothers - and I want my boys to feel the same way.

After a long time spent raising my own children, it feels good for that to be the only goal I need to have with this set of kids.

Birthday Wish

My birthday is coming up in about 10 days and I know what I want - a Royal manual typewriter!

The one I show here is a vintage one, but I want a new one - yes - Royal actually still makes one model of a manual typewriter.

My husband says, "why would you want something like that?" And it's true that anything I write on it would have to be taken to the computer and transcribed.

But I'm intrigued with the notion of "slow writing." Not producing things as fast as you can, but taking time to think about them. I already write a lot by hand - I just think it would be fun to go back to my roots when I first started writing seriously and manuals were the standard issue (yes, I'm that old - although I did have a little portable electric typewriter I took away to college.)

I also collect old typewriters, none of which would be in working order without some reconditioning. Why not just start with a brand new one? It even comes with a case. And I could pretend I was one of the writers I so admire from the past who packed up their typewriter and went off to war, or off to California, or off to a remote cabin somewhere and that little black typewriter in a case was the portal to magical things!

I want to Write about Yosemite

We've made our plans for the summer! We're heading out west again and this time going all the way to the west coast to visit Yosemite, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. After taking a break from traveling in the west all last year to give me a chance to build up my strength after two knee surgeries, it will feel wonderful to be back out there again among the mountains, canyons and waters of the National Parks.

I'm winding up the last of my essays and poems about traveling in the west and will include pieces about our trip this year to California.

 

Can't hardly wait - and it's coming along faster than I thought it would.

 

 

 

 

A Birthday Remembrance

A Birthday Remembrance

(Written April 8, 2013 in honor of my mother)

By Denise Kalin Tackett

 I visited two graveyards today.

I was thinking of the women in my family.
Theresa Ann, born March, 1950 and died at two weeks.

Delores May, born April, 1931 and died at seventy-nine.

Mother and daughter buried in separate graveyards,
three miles apart.

There are three women in my immediate family –

a devoted mother I knew for fifty-seven years,
a beloved daughter at the height of her youth
and determined to move away,
and an older sister I didn’t know at all.

Today, I think of the possibilities that are not to be:

Growing up with a sister to help blunt the blow

of all the masculinity of four brothers,
to pave the way with our parents,
to shoulder some of the weight of family.

A mother who lived to very old age,

a confidant, an advisor, a friend,
someone I could take care of,
who would finally let down her guard,
and let me be the strong one.

Spending days with my daughter,

fully grown and finally educated,
living nearby with her own family.
Friends at last, without having to be a role model,
but a friend who knows her better than any living soul.

If none of this can happen,
I must think on the future that could be.

I want to spend my remaining years,
playing the role of quirky, lovable family matriarch.
With a heart that holds both aching memories
and the joyful potential for the future.

Even Day Poems

 

 

 

For the last several years I have chosen one month out of the year to concentrate on writing poetry. This year I have chosen April, which is National Poetry Month, and will write a poem on every "even" day. I'm not a trained or educated poet and, in fact, one of the reasons I think I enjoy poetry is because I don't know enough about it to know how bad I am!

 

I ordered the poetry literary magazine shown above for my NightWriters group, courtesy of the Poetry Foundation, to give us some inspiration.  We are also going to have a Michigan poet, Alison Swan, come to the Box Factory to do a four-part (once a season) "poetry intensive" workshop. The first one is in May. All this should help me ready my own poems on the National Parks, which I plan to self-publish this fall. 

 

I enjoy doing "even day" poems no matter how bad they are because it makes me produce work on a regular basis and makes me pay accute attention to what's going on around me, so I'll have something to write about. Now, true, I usually end up writing about the weather and one or two poems about my cats, but at least I'm paying attention and not rushing through my days trying to get a long and endless list of tasks done that includes everything except being creative.

 

 

 

"Up and Over the Mountains"

"Newspaper Rock" in Colorado - subject of one of my poems

In addition to the essays I'm writing about the National Park trips we have made, I have also written some poems.  Originally they were in the same project, but late last year I decided to break out the poetry into a separate book, tentatively titled, "Up and Over the Mountains."

There will be 25 poems in the collection - to represent the 25 years we have spent travelling to the parks.

I'm going to publish this small chapbook myself in a limited edition - and may even do it by hand - sewing the pages together with some kind of special cord and picking out paper that I think would suit it.

This is the creative part of writing that I'm free to do when I don't have to worry about "getting published" by an outside publisher. It lets me celebrate not only my love of writing, but the textural feel of paper and thread and the patient hand-work of sewing each page together. I also plan to hand-insert photographs taken by my talented husband, with tissue paper to protect each image.

This should be another fun project that the two of us can tackle this summer.

Cure for Busy

"Page after Page" by Heather Sellers

Earlier this month I was moaning about being too busy and after I got to a certain point of feeling sorry for myself, I remembered a source to turn to - the wonderful writing book by Heather Sellers called "Page after Page."

This book was published in 2005 and I saw it by chance in the bookstore around that time and bought it. To my delight I found that Heather taught at Hope College, which is only a little over an hour away from the Box Factory for the Arts.

Through the Writers' Studio at the Box Factory, I have hired her to come teach classes twice.  She's fun, energetic and full of enthusiasm for writing.

Here's what she says about being busy:

Not being busy. That is the greatest, most fearless act we can commit. ... Being, and not distracting ourselves with the illusion of the power that is busy.

Every time you tell the world you are busy, you are saying to the universe: I need busy work because I am afraid. ... When you groove on the busy drug, you are qualifying yourself, perhaps, for a job you don't want.

Are you sick of saying you want a writing life, more time for writing when you keep not doing anything about it? ... You have to pick. And then support that choice with every fiber of your being - aka stop complaining.

I have read this little book several times since it joined my collection, and I'm grateful that I have it to bring me back down to Earth when I'm floating away.  If you are at all interested in carving out a writing life, I strongly recommend this book.

Manuscript Workshop

Tackett Family Rafting - 1999

I have been working on my collection of National Park essays for five years now. It covers a time period of 25 years - 1989 to 2013, so this is the year I will put the finishing touches on it.

I'm taking a Manuscript Workshop through Barbara Simpson's writing group, Sunset Coast Writers. There are four of us in the group, plus Barbara and I am workshopping this national park manuscript.

We meet on a Saturday afternoon every other week and I submit 10 pages of my manuscript for their critiques. So far I have submitted only material I already have written, while I work separately on a few more pieces that I have in the pipeline. I will also add work from our trip to Yosemite, Kings Canyon and Sequoia this summer before I call it done.

They have several great suggestions and almost universally want more information than I'm giving them.  Because of my current schedule and the fact that we only have about nine weeks before we head out to California, I'm not even going to try to take their suggestions for revision until this summer after we are back and I've tackled the new material I want to write.

Then, I anticipate a fun summer spreading out my notes and their notes and starting at the beginning and looking at it with fresh eyes.  My goal is to have it completely revised and ready to search for a publisher no later than October 1. We'll see how that works out. Goals are good.

Whining Writer

A wish for a quiet mind    (photo by Tom Tackett)

I'm finally in a situation where I can actually pursue my writing. My children are grown. I don't have to report to work anywhere. I have a dedicated studio space. I don't have tight deadlines to meet.  And yet, I find myself struggling to find the time to write.

I have no one but myself to blame. I'm involved with two organizations that need a lot of work done by volunteers. There are not so many volunteers to go around, and I can't seem to say no. And once I've said "yes" it's nearly impossible to back out of it.

So, then I get stuck in the place I am now. I really could work full-time doing busy work for these organizations and not spend a single hour all week long producing any kind of original writing. The truth is, I have done this more than I want to admit.

I try to schedule time for writing and tell myself I must take this seriously. But somehow life intrudes and I make no progress on things I want to accomplish.

  It's not just the actual hours needed for writing, it's the time I need when I'm not writing to have a quiet mind. To just observe and think and let the images percolate. That's what's missing when I'm so busy living a busy life.  Actually, I'm beginning to think I am sabotaging myself and this is just another way of procrastinating. If so, how do I make it stop?

Frosty View

For years I wanted a window in my writing studio and I finally got one in December when Tom and I moved into our new place on the third floor of the Box Factory for the Arts.

Unfortunately this view, which I'm sure is fabulous in the summer, is cold and frosty this time of year. It's a little chilling to look out and see snow flying and the icy water of the St. Joseph river flowing with slush in it.

But, cold or not, I'm working on three writing projects I'm determined to finish this year and perhaps having it be so fridgid outside just inspires me to stay put and not venture out.

Tom and I are anticipating a trip to California in June, which will be here before we know it and the view from this window will be much different. And if I can keep to schedule, I'll be nearing the completion of three writing projects I've been working on for five years.

New Studio, Finally!

Tom and I finally have our studio up and organized on the third floor of the Box Factory for the Arts in St. Joseph, Michigan. We have three windows in our studio, which is something I've wanted since I first took a studio here about 6 years ago. We moved in the first part of December



My side of the studio

Although I really liked my old studio, it was dark and had become chock-full of stuff to the point where I had to apologize for the mess to everyone who came in and I found it almost impossible to work there.

Tom's side of the studio

This studio is light, bright and organized - this is how I plan to accomplish so much this year.

New Year Update

I haven't written for a while, mostly because Blogger had an issue where they would not let me upload a photo from my computer. Evidently that has been fixed, so I can update with this illustration of me holding my latest grandson, Weston, born January 27.

As for my writing goals for the year - they are pretty simple - but work intensive at the same time.

Novel:
I plan to finish the novel I've been working on for five years - working title "Copper top" - by the end of July. Then I'll let it sit for August, before beginning rewrites. By the end of the year I hope to be able to shop it around to agents.

National Park Essays:
I have also been working on this project for five years, but I'm very close to being done.  I plan to finish this collection of essays I'm writing about Tom and my travels to the western national parks after our trip to Yosemite in June. I'm in a manuscript critique group and I'm running this project through that workshop.
By this fall I'll be ready to look for a publisher. The title: "Canyons Calling, Michiganders Exploring the West."

National Park Poems:
I originally thought I would include poetry in the above project, but this year I decided it would be better as a completely different project. Once again, I will finish this project after we return from Yosemite and self-publish in the fall. Tentative title: "Heading to the Canyons."

And that's it! Three long term projects done so I can move on to other projects percolating in my brain.