Finding the Christmas Spirit

Until this week, this was the “Christmas that wasn’t.”  I just could not get there. It’s been a tough year.  Between my ongoing health challenges, losing my sister, Amy, to ovarian cancer and selling our fabulous farmhouse, it has been a tumultuous time. Most of our belongings are either in storage or are packed away in our barn. This means that we can’t find anything.  I mean anything.  The Christmas ornaments?  Yea, right. No chance. Most years no matter where I am relative to the holiday spirit, I manage to at least put up some sparkling lights.  As a Vermonter, I believe in the power of Hygge ( def: a cozy quality that makes a person feel content and comfortable) The Scandinavians have gotten this down.  But even that has been hard to achieve this year.  

Having moved this last summer, my relationship to “stuff” has gotten complicated.  I spent weeks throwing things out or packing them away, fully knowing that it might be years before I reunite with them. While our passive house is being built, I ended up renting a small and sweet house overlooking a beautiful lake.  The only things I brought with me were my art studio supplies and a small collection of clothing.  I am actually moving yet again after the holidays into a condo closer to town.  This will be great over the winter but involves yet another move. Couldn’t I just beam everything the 20 miles to the new digs?

 

But this story is about how I have managed to find the Christmas spirit.  We are in Colorado with our daughter and her family.  Two grands, age 3 and 6, pretty much guarantee a festive spirit.  They are vibrating with excitement about Santa’s arrival. They are snooping into the gift bags under the tree and are counting how many have their name on them.  Wisely, we are holding back much of the loot so as to make for more surprise on Christmas morning. We have also been brainstorming ideas for how to slow down the mayhem on Christmas morning. How can we savor the gift giving and receiving?  We have decorated a gingerbread house.  My husband, the architect, took over this project and the kids were completely captivated by the process.

 

We have hatched a plan to go caroling in the neighborhood on Christmas Eve.  My grand-daughter, Mabel, is a real singer.  This fills me with delight.  She knows all of the lyrics to a huge collection of holiday songs and she sings with boisterous enthusiasm.  We have an expression in our household which is “the fruit does not fall far from the Pear Tree”.  I am known as Pear Pear to my grands so this expression seems particularly apt.  We have been rehearsing our set list and have even assigned solos and choreography chores to Mabel. We have about 5 songs at the ready and came up with a genius plan to create a wheel that we can spin at each house to select the song we will sing.  We haven’t quite designed the mechanics of it yet but we have painted the wheel and are enthusiastic about the possibilities.   

One thing that my daughter and son-in-law embrace is cooking so we have already had some wonderful meals with plans for more over the holiday weekend.  I shared with them that I had found three-year-old Warren a knife set for Christmas.  They were aghast until I reassured them that this was a Montessori set and was age appropriate.  Might as well start these kids early. They have a sweet little kitchen and a cleaning set that lives in the kitchen. They already sweep and dust and mob up their messes, mostly. They are great eaters so having them join in the food prep can only be a win for everyone.  

We return home early next week to welcome 2024.  In the meantime, I am storing away all of the snuggles and love and sweetness that my grands can shower on me.  Whereas most years, I manage to get out a Christmas card, since this was the “Christmas that wasn’t”, it didn’t happen.  Perhaps this post is this year’s version of a Christmas card.  I send love and hopes for peace to all with a sincere wish that we connect in the new year in whatever way is possible. 

Note: I have struggled for over an hour trying to get the formatting right on this blog.  I've been blogging here for years so am reluctant to change platforms, but Google, if you're reading this, get it together, won't you please? And apologies to those who are annoyed by different font sizes.  I have given up.  

Discombobulation!

Note:  This blog was penned in the middle of July.  It is now the middle of September.  One of the things I value about writing this blog is that it helps me capture moments in time.  It helps me to remember where I was and what was happening. I didn't publish it in July probably because I was in the thick of it.  I was truly discombobulated.  I have added a postscript at the end of this post that reflects how things have evolved..  Read on for more.

July 16, 2023

Discombobulation is the only way to describe the state I am in.  From the free dictionary-

A stunned or bewildered condition: befuddlement, bewilderedness, bewilderment, daze, fog, muddle, mystification, perplexity, puzzlement, stupefaction, stupor, ...

For a girl who likes to unpack the minute she arrives at a hotel room, who likes to have order and know where things are, moving is incredibly stressful.  It is a well-known fact that moving is one of the most stressful things we go through.  I should know, I’ve moved back and forth across the country twice. I’ve lived in NYC, Boston, San Francisco, London and Santiago, Chile and of course our beautiful Vermont. 

I’ve been to this rodeo.  This time, however, the stakes are a bit higher.  We are moving into an unfinished house.  My poor weary husband is working feverishly to finish building an apartment over the garage that will be part of our new house.  And that is where we will live for several months until the rest of the house is complete.  You heard it here.  Several months.  HA!  We’ll see.  My handyman, architect, energy nerd, devoted husband is not making any promises.  But he is working tirelessly to make sure we have somewhere to sleep after we close on our house sale in August. 

 

This is all complicated by the fact that I am not at full strength.  Far from it.  I am half deaf, my vision is wonky and my balance is terrible so traipsing up and down stairs with boxes is just not in the cards for me.  What I am doing is trying to make decisions and manage the complex process of moving us out of our farmhouse.  I have a giant spreadsheet with sheets for furniture, rugs and art.  We’ve already done a major purge and will likely do another one.  We’ve taken multiple trips to our local donation center with bags of clothing and linens and housewares and furniture.  Some furniture will be moved into our apartment.  This, mind you is a one room studio with a small kitchen and bathroom.  We will have one small closet and one bureau.  Talk about downsizing.  The rest of our furniture will be moved into our new barn or stored at the moving company’s facility.  We definitely need a safe, climate-controlled home for our piano for the interim. 

 

As I’ve shared with friends, my husband and I have been married for almost forty years and our secret is that we have always given each other a lot of space-  physical space, emotional space and mental space.  This means living on top of each other whilst trying to finish the house will be a true test.  I’m sure we’ll be fine.  We’ll just probably be pretty cranky a lot of the time.  I am definitely bringing my art supplies.  And my loyal Smooch of course.  She’s always good for kisses and laughs.  As I pack things up, I am thinking wistfully of the day that I will see them again.  It could be years.  But whenever that day comes, it will probably feel a bit like Christmas.  I hope that I’ll open boxes and be delighted to reunite with some of my treasured belongings.

 

For now, I am taking it one day at a time and embracing the motto-  Less is More!  

September 17, 2023

Postcript:  The "HA! We'll see." from the first paragraph proved prophetic.  Many of my friends who had come to help and had seen the disarray, the "gypsy encampment" that I had named our little trailer where I hoped to do my artwork, were raising their eyebrows, shaking their heads and wondering aloud how this would all turn out.  My wonderful sister-in-law who had come to help me pack actually gave me the nudge I needed.  She sat me down and in a very no-nonsense, serious tone said to me- "You have GOT to get out of here." 

I had been trying so hard to be a good sport, to put on my big girl pants and hunker down in my unfinished one room apartment with my gypsy encampment outdoors, to be the partner my husband was hoping I would be.  But that was not to be.  I have never done well living in a construction zone.  I need order and an environment that comforts me.  I need a measure of calm and beauty around me.  And I'm happy to report that I have found it.  I am renting a sweet little house at my summer camp.  It is small and very simple but it's lovely and I am happy here.  Smooch sits on the deck, surveying her camp.  She is, after all, a camp counselor during the summer.  We are both proud and happy to be watching over our beloved camp.  Michael comes for dinner since there really isn't a kitchen in the still unfinished apartment.  We discuss the project and the state of the world.  I try to be supportive and encouraging as there is a long way to go before we will finally move into our new house.  It appears that our strategy of "giving each other space" continues to be the secret.

  

 

 

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Lately I’m having real trouble deciding when and how to participate in my life. I was once a girl who showed up for her friends, for their shows, for interesting events in the community.  I believe in showing up.  But lately, I’m just not feeling it.  I’ve missed so much over the last months. 

I heard an interview recently with Donna Murphy, a mature actress, who has had a fabulous career on Broadway.  She was talking to Seth Rudetsky on the Broadway Channel on SiriusXM about her career.  She really inspired me and got me thinking.   She talked about using a filter of “what do I have to give in this situation, at this moment”.  That feels like a powerful way to flip the script.  So often we view the world through the lens of what can I get out of this situation or this person or this experience.  If I do this, what will I get in return?  

This reminds me of an experiment I did shortly after leaving my business career in Boston.  I was feeling adrift and wanting to affect more, to connect more so I announced the The Great Gifting Experiment.  I offered to gift my time and ideas to friends and colleagues who needed help on a project.  Interestingly very few folks took me up on the offer.  It’s not that I didn’t have anything to offer.  I knew I did, but it was an offer and a model that people didn’t quite know how to participate in.  We’re so used to things being transactional. It’s one of the really wonderful concepts at Burning Man.  The gifting economy.  There is no currency other than generosity.
 
What would happen if we just think about what we have to give?  
 
I got some great advice from a dear friend on this topic recently.  I was fretting about going to an event that I had said I would attend. My friend’s advice was - you need to get really clear about why you are doing something.  Why are you going to that concert or that party or that lecture?  The answer doesn’t always come quickly.  We need to slow down and think hard about why we are drawn to do certain things.  
 
I worry when I opt out of more than I opt into.  Perhaps it’s a leftover from the pandemic and our months of being shut in at home.  Do we view our time differently now?  It could certainly be an outcome of two brain surgeries and moving out of our home.  All of it has taken a toll.   
 
One thing is clear to me and that is I have a deep well of things to give.  Maybe it’s as simple as a cheerful spirit or a friendly face.  Maybe it’s sharing a good laugh with a friend.  Maybe it’s sharing my perspective on business and art and friendship.

I’m going to try on this new model.  If you see me, know that I’ve decided that I have something to give in that moment in that place. Who knows what we might discover.  Cheers! 

We’ll Bless This Day with Thanks That We’re Alive

There is a clearing in the dense forest of my life that I have visited for many years.  It is a place where I feel my most alive and joyful.  It is a place where music fills each day and I am able to sing my own song. It is a place surrounded by beauty and the sound of children’s laughter and love. It is a place that has shaped my life and the lives of my children.  It is my beloved summer camp.  My roles at camp have ranged from directing the summer musical, to heading up the nature department as “Mother Nature” to working in arts and crafts.  The Arts and Crafts department is situated alongside the lake and hums with activity every day.  It is where little girls craft and create and chat with each other about their life at camp. I love everything about it.   

And magic happens here.  There was once a camper who could lie down in the grass and find a four-leaf clover every single time she tried.  There was once a magical day when I, along with a group of girls had created a small pond outside of the nature building.  We collected rocks to surround our little pond and planted some flowers.  We were quite proud of our effort and our handiwork.  But the magic really happened when we came down to the nature hut the next morning and found a sweet little frog had moved in.  How thrilling that was.  

 

There was another magical day when YoYo Ma came to camp and surprised the community by playing his cello. His daughter was a camper and he had come the night before and watched our summer musical.   I had written a play that summer called “The Enchanted Clearing” and when he introduced the piece he was going to play, he said it reminded him of being in an “enchanted clearing”.   Now there was some magic.

 

 

There have been many extraordinary musical talents at the camps.  One man in particular has contributed in immeasurable ways.  Biff Fink. He truly created the soundtrack of our lives at camp.  Tragically, he passed away earlier this year and the loss is profound.  What lives on however are the beautiful songs that he has written that are sung at camp each summer. 

 

Gulicking Up is a song that brings all of the counselors from each camp together in song at an all-camp event during pre-camp. No doubt our neighbors on Lake Fairlee can feel the thunderous energy that pulses from Hive as we sing this song. 

Tonight we’re singing all together (my, oh, my), for we’re Aloha in the present, you and I.
  Let’s go one round for love and laughter, in
 the now and ever after. Let’s lift up our voice and shout it to the sky.  Stamp your feet, clap your hands.  If you’re looking for a partner, here I am, (yee haw) Are things piling up on you, just let me help you muddle through, cause I’m a good-for-something rascal, yes I am.

His lyrics speak to the deep love and passion that so many of us feel for the camps. 

 

Summer is a meadow full of moonlight.  Summer is a mountain bright with sun. Love is summer’s promise, like a ring, it has no end. And a smile is summer’s music, like a song from friend to friend.

 

Or who doesn’t think of the magic of being in the woods with the beautiful song- Rainbow’s End. 

 

Somewhere on a hillside,
 where the woods are deep with pine, 

there's a sudden apple clearing, there's a secret place of mine.


Yes, and somewhere there is starlight, 

up the hill and round the bend,


just a quiet place for dreamers,
that they call the Rainbow's End.




Rainbow's End lies just before us, yet it seems so far away.


Isn't that the way it's always been? 

The things we need the most are always just around the bend.

 Still we know we'll find them, when we reach the Rainbow's End. 

 

Somewhere there's a harbor,
 that the world has never seen,


Where the ship's come in on firelight, and the waves are apple-green.


Take your dreams into that haven, take a prayer and take a friend.


Make a wish and make a promise,
on the gold at Rainbow's End. 

 

Aren’t we all dreamers?  Isn’t that something that we learn at camp? Biff captured so many of our deepest and most profound feelings for this place.

 

He visited camp during the summer of 2019 and wrote an original song- “Aloha in the Hills” for the show that we created.   We were able to share this song with its stirring lyrics at the reunion last summer. 

 

Another sun is rising in the sky

Another breeze is blowing down the lake

Can’t you hear the call of all that longs to be

In every single sacred breath you take.

 

Whatever makes an ordinary day

Turn fresh and new and beautiful to see

Well, it’s not the things that we’re so certain of

But chances that we take that make us free.

 

Aloha in the hills, Aloha in the skies,

Aloha in our hearts, Aloha in our eyes

And when at close of day,

That ole’ moon begins to rise,

We’ll bless this very day,

We’ll bless this day with thanks that we’re alive.

 

Biff’s gifts will live on as will the indelible contributions of so many special people.  And lucky me, I am still able to spend time at camp each summer.  The campers arrived today and are settling into their tents and cabins, making friends that will no doubt last a lifetime.  Off we go!

 

 

 

Cleaning My Closet is Making Me Weep

 If you subscribe to the Marie Kondo method, or have read the many books on “Decluttering”, you know that the act of letting go of stuff is supposed to make us feel happier, somehow liberated. My husband and I are in the process of readying our house for sale.  We’ll be moving (eventually) into a new house that myhusband is building. Nothing about this process has been easy.  Like so many, we have a lifetime of accumulated stuff, of detritus.  We’ve set deadlines and are slowly, doggedly going through our belongings and unloading.  We have taken countless trips already to our local donation center.  We participated in “Thetford Free Day” last weekend when our whole town was invited to put stuff at the end of our driveways to give away for free.  We had some choice items that were snatched up quickly and the rest was driven to the donation center in town.
 

A particularly gnarly task was going through our linen closet and winnowing down our ridiculous collection of sheets and towels.  How could we possibly have accumulated so much stuff?  One answer to that question is that we have not been good at throwing things out. Perhaps this is a Vermont thing.  As an example, we’ve held onto the extra-long sheets that our kids needed for their dorm room at UVM. Don’t ask me why. 

 

I will admit that as we have removed clutter from our living spaces, I have felt some relief and a feeling of expansiveness.  But today’s project has really taken its toll.  While I do regularly weed out my closet and give clothes away, I have also held onto a lot of items “just in case”.  The “just in case” category includes mostly clothing that I just might need for a show or a concert.  Our lifestyle in Vermont does not allow for much getting “dolled up”.  The most we get dolled up is for weddings and/or funerals.  But I have used clothing from my closet in various plays and definitely have pulled things out when I was singing in the Gospel Choir at Dartmouth.  Each concert had a different color combination so it made sense to hold onto some colors that I don’t normally wear- think orange or pink. When I sang with my beloved acapella group, Custom Blend, we spent countless hours at rehearsal discussing our clothing choices for gigs. Many of those items are still in my closet. 

 

 Going through my shoe collection was particularly poignant for me.  I found a    pair of sandals that I had worn in a production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.  I unearthed two pairs of tap shoes that I sported in a  production of Nunsense years ago. That was when I learned the basics of tap dancing. My elementary tap skills were disguised by the nun’s habits that we wore.  As long as we looked like we were tapping up top, what was happening to our feet could be a bit of a mystery. I found several pairs of character shoes, a staple for performing in musical theatre.  As I sat on the chair in my bedroom  surveying my pile of shoes, I stared down the hard truth.  After two brain surgeries, with ongoing issues with vision and balance, I will not likely be tap-dancing again soon.  Never say never.  But let’s be real.  I won’t be wearing those leather boots with a two-inch heel either. I’m a crocs and sneakers girl now.  I may not sing in a concert again either.  Now that I’m deaf in one ear, I have discovered that I have a much harder time staying in tune- at least in an acapella group.  How heartbreaking is that?  For me, it is truly heartbreaking.  

 

 It’s really hard to say goodbye to the things that have brought me such joy.    Marie Kondo tells us that before we throw them away, we must thank them for the way that they served us.  So here’s to my tap shoes and character shoes. Here’s to the dresses I wore in Our Town and in Working and in Five Lesbians Eating a Quiche. Each of these experiences brought me great joy indeed.  I think I’m going to hold onto the black sweatshirt I got after performing in the “booth” in CATS.  Sweatshirts fit my lifestyle today. 

 

Since our new house will not be ready for some months, I am reconciled to the fact that most of my belongings will be stored in our barn.  It may take years before I re-unite with them again.  But I can imagine my delight when the day comes and I open up my box of shoes and pull out the fabulous shoes I wore as the teacher in Working.  Some things are just too precious to unload. 

Is it Narcissism, Therapy or the Beginnings of a Book?

Is it narcissism, therapy or the beginnings of a book? Is all of this writing I’ve been doing helpful to anyone other than me?    I read recently a wonderful quote about how writing can help the world feel right again.  It can open us up to our inner thoughts and help us navigate bumpy times.  It has certainly been that for me over the last few years.  It has been a wonderful way to celebrate adventures (see Ten Legs and a Tale posts of our epic girl’s road trip to Colorado) or bemoan the painful process of growing older.  It has allowed me to share my very scary health journey and gather incredible love and support from my friends and loved ones (CaringBridge).  Writing has been a way to share ideas and make sense of the world.  Since I have been quite limited in what I’ve been able to do over the last months, I am reading and writing more and more.  It is a wonderful way for me to feel connected and grounded.  So I invite you to follow along on my personal blog-  rememberingwhatIknow@blogspot.com or on Caringbridge (https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/perryisperky).  Ironically that blog is called Perry is Perky, even when I have been feeling far from perky.  I have finally sorted out a Follow feature on my personal blog so that you can subscribe. I will continue to post health updates on CaringBridge and hope they will be few and far between.  Remember What You Know, my personal blog, will continue to be the place where I reflect and celebrate all the wonders of this life.   I invite you to join me.  

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The Used-To-Be List

In 1971 Ram Dass, a spiritual guru, published a book called Be Here Now, which ushered in the beginning of the mindfulness revolution.  He had previously been known as Richard Alpert and was a Harvard professor.  Like many accomplished people he had many layers.  With the help of psilocybin, a psychedelic drug, he had a spiritual awakening.  Through an intense hallucination he was able to see himself in all his aspects-  Richard Alpert, the professor.  Richard Albert, the social being.  Richard Albert, the lover.  The list was long.  One by one, these aspects of his identity appeared before him and then disappeared. He saw them as a vision in front of him and watched them fade away.  He had just thought to himself how fortunate he was that he still had his body, his physical being, when that began to disappear as well.  And what was left was Richard Alpert, in his Richard Alpert-essence. 

 

I have been reflecting on the various aspects of my identity.  With my challenging health status over the last two years, I have become truly impaired.  My hearing is diminished with hearing in only one ear, my vision is extremely challenged right now with double vision and as a result my balance is way off.  How has this affected me?  The list of things that I used to do, the person that I used to be has changed significantly.   I used to be a tennis player. (a pretty good one if I don’t mind saying).  I used to be a skier.  Skiing has been one of my all-time favorite sports for most of my life.  I love the freedom of it, the beautiful scenery and the collegiality of doing it with friends.  I used to be fearless in the ocean.  I would love to bob over the waves and ride them into shore.  I used to be a dancer.  The many musical productions that I have done as an actress showcased my dancing chops.  I even faked being a tap dancer in a production of Nunsense. I have loved singing my entire life and was able to hold my own in acapella groups from college as well as adulthood.  One of the greatest pleasures in my life was singing with my beloved acapella group, Custom Blend, in Massachusetts.  I have tears in my eyes now as I think about the loss of that group in my life.  But singing acapella requires serious musicianship and a really good ear.

And lest I forget my professional past.  I used to be a big cheese business executive. I worked for a lot of wonderful entrepreneurs.  I worked in Boston and Silicon Valley in the early days of the internet.  I ran teams and coached and mentored sales and marketing folks.   You see where this is going, right?

 

Used to be… executive, tennis player, skier, bodysurfer, dancer, singer… the list grows.

 

Now I know that many people lose their ability to do certain things as they get older.  But look around friends.  There are lots of “mature” skiers bombing down the slopes.  You can see active elders tearing up the tennis courts, or at least the pickle ball courts.  My decline has been accelerated by my health status. I can feel very sad about it if I let myself go there. But first, let’s look at the list of things that I are still part of my identity, of who I am.   I am a writer.  I am a budding multi-media artist, I am a dog mom and a grandmother.  I am a devoted mother and wife. I am a reader and a thinker.  I am a learner.  I am a friend. 

 

I haven’t given up on being a singer or an actress or a producer or a gardener.  I haven’t given up on being a mentor, or a camp counselor. I just need to adapt the way that I do all of these things.  I hope to add to the list of things that I can do and do well. And I need to be the very best version of wife/writer/artist/mom/grandmother/reader/thinker/learner/friend that I can be.  I need to celebrate my Perry-essence. Off we go.    

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You Are Cordially NOT Invited to my Pity Party

You are cordially NOT invited to my pity party

Once upon a time, we sent out an un-invitation for a Christmas party.  For many years, we had thrown a holiday party. It was a blast.  It was the highlight of the season (at least for me).  And believe you me, it was festive.  We cooked up a storm, we decorated the house and we did some boisterous singing of Christmas songs around the piano. But it was also a ton of work and that year we decided to take a year off.  So as to not confuse our friends who were always expecting an invitation to this party, I sent out an invitation that said- 

 

You are cordially NOT invited to the Allison/Schunk Christmas party.

It’s not because of the cooking and shopping that breaks the bank. 

It’s not because of the clean-up that lasts for days. 

It’s not because of the out-of-tune singers (you know who you are)

It’s because we just need to take a year off.

 

I tell this story as a preamble to the invitation I am about to issue.

 

You are cordially NOT invited to my pity party. I’m going to have it all by myself.

  

Ready?  Here goes. In no particular order. 

 

I’m half deaf

My vision is wonky

My balance is wobbly

My sister died of ovarian cancer two weeks ago

It is 15 degrees below zero outside

I have covid

My husband has covid

We are missing my nephew’s epic wedding celebration in Sayulita, Mexico this weekend

And we may or may not get on a plane next week for our planned vacation in Puerta Vallarta.

 

How am I doing so far?  Pretty pitiful right? 

 

But looking on the bright side…  my sparkling Christmas lights are lit.  There’s a fire in the fireplace.  My loyal Smoochy is ever by my side. I’ve got Michelle Obama and Prince Harry’s books loaded in my Kindle and I’m re-binging Ted Lasso.  Tomorrow I’ll be in my art studio making homemade valentines for my loved ones.  Things could be a lot worse.

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