Czech Mates

Helena and Matej

A few years ago, when my friend, colleague and author Jed Diamond invited me to a party in Willits, California to celebrate completion of his Ph.D. I met his and Carlin's son Aaron. Aaron composed a song in Jed's honor that was such a generous act of love that I asked to hear it again later. At the time, Aaron was engaged to marry a woman from the Czech Republic. Jed emailed Aaron about my trip and I received a lovely email from Aaron full of suggestions and tips for my stay in Prague. Aaron's now married and living in the CR. His wife, Helena is a school teacher and volunteered to play tour guide and take me outside the city on the day her school was closed for a holiday.

Helena is warm and witty and generous with her time. Seven-year-old Matej practiced his English with me. Czech schools begin English instruction in the second grade. Our first stop was a brewery tour to the Staropramen Brewery. I was so impressed with the interactive videos, as good as any I've seen at Disney World.

Multimedia Presentation

We drove out of the city to the former site of the village Lidice. I say site because it looks like this.

Where Lidice once stood

In 1942 the village was mistakenly identified as having an association with one of the men who committed the assassination of Reich Protector Reinhard Heydrich.  As a collective punishment for the assassination, the village men were lined up and shot. The women were separated from their children and sent to a concentration camp. The children, except for a small number of young children selected to be raised by German families, were kept for several weeks before being transported to a different camp and gassed. The village was set on fire and then destroyed, literally leveled to the ground. The museum on the grounds had photos of everything as it was all documented by the Nazis. Most heart rending were the letters from the children begging relatives to send them food, clothing and essentials. The children were told they were at camp. There was video of a few of the women who survived the camp and children who had been raised in German homes. If their mothers survived the camp, they could not communicate with their children because the children now spoke only German while the mothers spoke Czech. Can you imagine not being able to talk with your own child? The empty fields are haunting. The sculptures of the eighty-two children gassed will tug at my heart for years to come. A new village of Lidice was constructed nearby after the war, but this memorial will forever bear witness to what happened here.

Bronze sculptures of the eighty-two children

To counteract the sadness of Lidice, Helena took me to see two castles. Years earlier, Helena was a tour guide at the first in the village of Nela Hozeves, birthplace of composer Antonin Dvorak. His talent  was first nurtured here.

Nela Hozeves

Antonin Dvorak Statue

The second castle, from the 1800's, was a hunting lodge. The photo of Helena and Matej was taken in the wooded area leading up to the castle.

Veltrusy

  On the drive back to the city, Matej began to tell his mother jokes. He would tell one, she would translate, and we would all roar with laughter. It has been a while since I had the pleasure of second grade humor and it was a treat to watch this mother and son interact. I am so grateful to Helena and Matej for their kindness in sharing their beautiful country with me, and to Aaron for sharing his family. The best way to learn to love a country is through its people.

Olive, an urban dive

An equally appropriate name might be: Olive, an urban dream.

Kim Collett, owner of Olive, an urban dive is quite a gal. After following the evolution of Olive on its face book site and enjoying several delicious lunches in the newly restored Wympee, I was anxious to meet her.

When my friend Lori treated me to a birthday lunch at Olive I had a chance to chat with Kim and walked away wowed. She took on the birth of Olive with spirit and grit. It was a hands on rehab of a very grungy Wympee. Kim, in one of her many prior career turns, had rehabbed for Habitat for Humanity on New York’s Lower East Side. She used every bit of the experience garnered there to gut the building and create a charming restaurant with an urban groove. Her mantra is:  “Use everything!” Her business model: “I’m Scottish!” Her work ethic: “I’ve never taken a job that I didn’t do like I owned the place.”

White Chimney Belgian Beer Bottles Repurposed as Lights

I believe there are many ways to get an education and that a college degree is not the only path to success and fulfillment. There is currently a lack of respect for the apprenticeship model, a lack of respect for craftsmen and artists. We are telling kids that the only way to be somebody is to have a college degree. It is refreshing to meet Kim whose life long willingness to try new things and create new and better ways to do something has led her to this point, restaurant owner and entrepreneur.  To stretch two months of travel money into a two and one half year stay in Europe, she established a nanny service while in England, bartended in Greece, and offered three day tours of Paris to fellow hostel dwellers. She's a creative problem solver and likes to find a niche and fill it!

The food at Olive is mostly local. On this day, the wait staff was wearing shirts sporting the list of local resources. She has a mutually profitable relationship with the vendors from Second Street Market and sends her compost over to The Garden Station.

The daily soup pays homage to the "use everything" mantra as it is created from unsold food from the prior day. The soup that accompanied my Ahi Tuna Tacos was Pork Barbecue and Sweet Potato. That sounded strange to me but was.... delicious! The slivers of basil added just the right touch. The Ahi mix for the build-it-yourself taco had cannellini beans and garbanzos! 

Kim's current dream for Olive is to watch it grow. I will not be surprised to see her at some point turn it over to someone else. She likes new challenges. In this tough economy she used her "I'm Scottish." business model to garner the $52,000 in promissory notes she needed, in combination with many woman hours, for start up costs. She's well on her way to paying those notes back. I think she's achieved a dream, starting a successful restaurant, that many aspire to but few actualize. 

So head downtown, to the corner of Third and Wayne, for delicious food and friendly service. Have a chat with Kim if you can rope her down for a moment. This time, she's working like she owns the place because she does! The Virginia Wolfe quote, "One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well." is just right for this warm and welcoming place.

A rare moment, Kim sitting!

Reasons to Be Happy

Katrina Kittle takes on big issues in her novels. I've blogged about her previous book The Blessings of the Animals, tackling grief and healing post divorce. Her three prior novels dealt with AIDS, child abuse, and  deceit. Reasons to Be Happy is her first book for younger readers and I wondered if she would stay true to her big issue pattern. I was not disappointed. Addiction, in the form of bulimia, is the core of this story but it is beautifully and skillfully imbedded in a tale of conflict with parents, dealing with mean girls and peer pressure, first love, and staying true to one's self.  So how do these serious issues end up being such an engaging and uplifting book? 

Well, the main character, 8th grader Hannah, kept a list in a purple journal of her Reasons to Be Happy.   This list gives us insight into Hannah before she changed schools, before her mother became sick, before she lost bits of herself to peer pressure. By the end of the book, she has traveled full circle back to herself. Along the way she meets a young man passionate about music and secure in himself, orphans in Ghana who teach her about what matters, and artists young and old dedicated to their craft. Each meeting reminds her of parts of herself that she has abandoned and gradually reclaims. 

We are a culture that reveres thin. Pressure to be thin begins young and continues... forever. We are so concerned with "outside" that often who we are is lost. It is all about how we look. It is heartbreaking to realize how objectified women are. And it's not just the males who are doing this. We do it to ourselves. How many catty remarks do women make about other women's weight? How much time is wasted worrying about how much we weigh? What if we devoted that time to creative pursuits?  What could we accomplish? What problems could be solved? The basic fear is... Am I good enough? We are looking for validation outside our selves. 

Addiction is about numbing pain, tamping down fear. The market is saturated with books, television shows, and magazine articles proposing that food is often the legal "drug" used to achieve this. It seems the more we focus on losing weight, the heavier we are all becoming. I'd so love it if we could accept and value each person for who she, or he, is. Unconditional love and acceptance, now there would be a wonderful reason to be happy.

Rue Dumaine - C'est Magnifique!

As a committed life long learner, I enjoy taking and moderating, classes at UDLLI (University of Dayton Lifelong Learning Institute). One of my favorites this session has been the Dining in Dayton Sampler. Each class features speakers from one or two local restaurants who share their restaurants' history, menu options, and specialties.

Anne Kearney, Chef and Owner of Rue Dumaine

Today's presenters were Anne Kearney and Tom Sand of Rue Dumaine in Centerville, Ohio. Anne was charming, inspiring, modest, and... brought delicious food to share. Tom, her husband and fellow owner, added insight as to the business and beverage (They have great wines and innovative cocktails!) side of the restaurant as well as some wry humor. This American Bistro has many French influences and they thoughtfully include a small glossary of French terms on the reverse of the menu.

Anne's "Food of Love" began at fourteen as she took over making the family dinner when her mother began to work outside the home. She experimented with family favorite recipes and had even catered a wedding before she graduated from high school. After a year of college, she began to pursue her true passion at the Greater Cincinnati Culinary Arts Academy. I especially love this part of her story. Too often our culture dictates that you must have a college degree to be successful. It is one of my hopes that we again begin to value the artisans who prepare our food, repair our cars and plumbing, build our homes, create stories, plant gardens, and follow their passion in a myriad of other ways that do not require a college degree. I loved college but do not think it is the only way to prepare for a life of passion and worth.

Some of the seventy participants in the Dining in Dayton session

From Cincinnati, Anne moved to New Orleans where she was sous chef at Peristyle and both cooked and helped develop recipes at Emmeril's. She later purchased Peristyle, where in 2002 she received the James Beard "Best Chef Southeast award. It is our fortune that Anne and Tom returned to the Dayton area to be near both their families. In 2007, they opened Rue Dumaine.

Their passion for food, ambiance, and innovation is evident. As Anne prepared a fall salad and a gluten-free dessert, a slide show behind her added a visual feast of the plated meals, glassware, hanging meats, fresh vegetables, and even one of the farms that make Rue Dumaine special.  

Slide features Michael Malone of Hungry Toad Organic Farm

Tom remarked on the richness of the Dayton area with regard to restaurants, excellent markets, and availability of local and organic meat and produce. Post cancer, I have deliberately sought restaurants that use local, organic foods. Rue Dumaine's weekly menu lists the local farmers and artisans they have as suppliers for that week. Each dish is prepared when ordered so substitutions can be made to accommodate customer needs or preferences.

It is a lovely thing to spend a few hours listening to two people share their passion for both their restaurant and for Dayton. It is always energizing and inspiring to be in the company of folks following their dream. 

I Just Wanna Go to Rehab

I said, “Yes, yes, yes!” 

I used to sing well. And, I loved to sing. But chronic, allergy-related coughing and misuse of my voice left me with more of a croak than a singing voice. It got to the point where I would not even sing when I was in the car, alone!

I tried throat lozenges, allergy medication, cough suppressants and resting my voice. Nothing helped, I felt discouraged and, well, sad. I finally found my way to The Blaine Block Institute for Voice Analysis and Rehabilitation.

After an endoscopy to examine my larynx and esophagus (my vocal chords), I got the good news. There is no permanent damage, just severe bruising. The even better news is that, with therapy, I should be able to recover my singing voice. It was amazing to look at the photographs of my vocal chords. This is a whole new level of getting in touch with my body!

Now, comes the rehab part. My speech and language therapist gave me a series of exercises to rehabilitate my voice. The first round of exercises (they’ll change as I make progress) takes about ten minutes, twice a day. After sounding a note on a pitch pipe, she had me repeat and sustain that note for as long as possible while singing "eeee." Then I do the same exercise, on the same note, while buzzing the lips. The second exercise is to go from my comfortable low note to my comfortable high note. The third is the reverse, to go from my comfortable high to my comfortable low. The final exercise is a series of notes (G A B C) where I sustain the note for as long as possible to "oooo." I immediately noticed I was having trouble with the breath necessary to sustain a note so next time we'll work on that.

To assist my practice, she provided a CD with all the exercises including the sounding pitches. Most of the time I do these in the car. The first time I did them, my son asked, "Is that you or is that the CD?" I told him it was both. On the next set, I heard a third voice, his! Now the joke around our house is to let loose with some "eee's," "ooo's," or lip trills to locate one another! Our two Yorkies are quite amused!

I'm grateful to have this opportunity to reclaim my voice. I'm looking forward to relearning how to effectively use my breath. Last December, at my Solstice Celebration, my chosen word for the year was "breathe." Lovely how its significance is affirmed in this rehabilitation process.

Yoga From the Inside Out

Because cultural messages about our bodies are so strong and the forces that work to destroy our self-image are so pervasive, having others in our life to mirror to us acceptance and encouragement is crucial.


Christina Sell, Yoga From the Inside Out

I've had an off again, on again relationship with yoga. I first tried it in 1974. I knew nothing about yoga, was just curious. I was new to Dayton and had not yet found a job or made friends and my then husband was completely self absorbed in his first year of law school. I was lonely and thought maybe I'd make some new friends. I found it, well, embarrassing. Way too much attention to the body for me. I felt exposed. I was thin so it was not about the size of my body. It was about not feeling comfortable with my body. As I knew no one in the class or for that matter anyone else doing yoga it felt even more isolating than being alone. So I dropped out. End of yoga

Then, in 1985, after having my first ever massage with a very lovely woman who was also a yoga instructor and was looking for a place to hold a class in my part of town; I volunteered to host a yoga class in my home. This time I made it through all the sessions. It would have been awkward to not participate when it was in my house! The teacher had been trained in Yoga for Round Bodies but I did not know how to ask for help. I was kind of getting the hang of it when she found another, more public, location and I did not move on with the group. I believed I was not a physical person; I did not yet realize that yoga is a spiritual practice too.

In 2002 a friend's daughter was working toward her yoga teacher certification and needed a class to garner teaching hours. This time it was three couples doing downward dog in my living room.  By then I was embarassed by my size so I always took a place behind the others. I found the poses too revealing. Again, once the class was finished, so was I.

Then in 2005 I went to Kripalu in Massachusetts for a weekend class on animal communication. There were free yoga classes every morning so I thought I'd give it another try. The instructor, a normal sized person, said something that stopped me in my tracks. We were doing a twist in a seated position and she said, "Now gently move your tummy to the side and deepen your pose." What? Move your tummy? She did not appear to have a tummy to move! One of the reasons I did not persevere with yoga was because I always felt my stomach got in the way. I had never heard of someone "moving their tummy." This was a revelation. I could adjust my body and do the pose comfortably! It never occurred to me that a normal weight person had to adjust her tummy to do a pose. I thought it was a problem for me because I was overweight and I just had to feel terribly squished to even attempt the pose. Another example of the bad body messages I carried around; since I am heavy, I will suffer. The realization that even thin people might have a tummy to move and that adjusting the pose is normal made me weep with insight and relief.

Now, in 2011, I have another friend doing her yoga teacher training. Lori has taught me that yoga is for everyone and the emphasis is on you and your body, not on doing the perfect pose. And, that yoga is as much a spiritual practice as it is a physical practice. She also keeps reminding me that it is about practice, not perfection. Lori is teaching me to be fully present in my body. I do not think I have ever really done this before.  She introduced me to the book, Yoga From the Inside Out, quoted at the start of this post.

Lori

And that brings me to a sunny day in Dayton, Ohio. I'm sitting on my deck after my morning yoga, savoring some fresh fruit, and writing some notes from Yoga From the Inside Out into my journal. Now that I understand that yoga is both a spiritual and physical practice, with emphasis on the word practice, and that I can adapt that practice to me and my body; yoga feels right for me.

While in Florida recently, my goddaughter Kate and I went to  Yoga On the Beach,  morning yoga classes on beautiful Siesta Key Beach. She, and Lori, are part of my tribe who offer the acceptance and encouragement every woman needs about her body. And I am so grateful...

A rainbow backdrop for yoga on Siesta Key

Resilience

Path near the Stillwater River

While walking along a path in one of my local parks, I noticed this tree in bloom. As I looked closer, I realized that one of the branches was snapped, almost completely severed. Yet this very tenuously attached branch was in full and glorious bloom! What resilience. What perseverance. Despite being terribly traumatized, this bough flowered on.

Flowering bough

When I first accepted that I had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from dealing with betrayal and a marriage gone terribly wrong, a friend sent me a page from her book of daily readings entitled Broken to be More Beautiful. I've held on to that reading and that thought as I heal. This tenacious branch reminded me again to stay the course, persevere, and share my beauty.

Broken, yet still creating beauty

           

Picture This

My plan was to attend a workshop on dirt. Yep, dirt. My aim was to find out how to test the soil in my garden to see if it needed supplementing. Instead I found myself in the third class of a six week series on photography. Here's how it happened. I went into the community center where the dirt class was scheduled. I was a bit late. When I entered the building from the sunny parking lot, my eyes had some trouble adjusting to the dimmed light in the room I entered. So I kept my eyes down and found an empty seat. As my eyes adjusted and I began to look at the slide being projected and began to listen to the speaker, I realized he was definitely not talking about dirt.

He was discussing, not compost but, composition as it relates to photography. I stayed in my seat and hung on every word. And took copious notes. And felt that happy feeling that curls your toes when you realize you have just been given exactly what your heart desires. I'd been hoping to find a good basic photography class. I love taking pictures for this blog. Actually, what I've discovered is that I love taking pictures period. And here I am in a photography class.

But it gets better. The instructor Adam Alonzo mentioned that the next meeting will be a critique class and each person can submit two photographs to be considered for critique. I decided that moment to submit. These are the two photos I sent him along with a request for the handouts from the first two sessions which he promptly sent.

I choose them simply because I like them. I am hopeful at least one will be selected for critique because I want to improve my skills. It's a bit scary, a bit intimidating, and a lot exciting! I keep humming these lyrics from the Rolling Stones, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, well you just might find, you get what you need."

Zenadew

Handstand # 7

Bonne Chance Marite!

I have always regretted not speaking more than one language. Last fall I mentioned to a friend that I was planning a trip to Paris and wanted to learn some conversational French. I had borrowed some CD's from the library and was listening to French music, especially Edith Piaf, but was longing to find some conversation partners, somewhere to immerse myself in the language. She knew of a local French Club and gave me the contact information. I called the day of the meeting and had by telephone my first encounter with the human dynamo named Marite!

Marite

She was welcoming and encouraging and insisted I come to the meeting that very day. I felt that deep recognition in my body, that thrill when you know something perfectly wonderful is about to begin. Do you know the feeling I am talking about, when a surge of energy pulses through you?

French Club is exactly what I had been wishing for, a group of lively, funny, bright people who gather weekly to speak all things French. At that first meeting, they very kindly introduced themselves in English so I had some context about each person's life. Then the rapid fire French began! By the end of an hour my head was spinning. Quelle surprise!

Members bring items to share or a story from their life. Sometimes Marite will have a question she poses to each of us or will suggest we question one another. Sometimes folks just have something to share and we talk about that. For instance, we discussed a newspaper article one woman brought to class about bilingual people faring better when struck with Alzheimer's. Or if someone has recently traveled they will share their vacation pictures and experiences. This is great fun! The French skills of the members are varied. Several are fluent, some are easily able to comprehend and to make themselves understood. As a beginner, my comprehension skills have taken a huge leap forward and I am taking tentative steps into speaking.

Marite is the spark for the group. She has razor sharp wit and a joyful take on life that keeps the energy of the session high. As her husband has just retired and they will be traveling frequently, she is handing over the club to another member. Today was our farewell luncheon for her.

The French Club

I know people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. The reason she was in my life was to encourage me to pursue my dream of becoming bilingual. While she was present for barely more than a season, what she began will be with me for a lifetime. Merci et au revoir Marite!

Star Blogger Award

Since 2006 I have been privileged to be a member of the Story Circle Network. Mystery author and memoirist Susan Wittig Albert founded SCN in 1997 as an organization dedicated to helping women share the stories of their lives and to raising public awareness of the importance of women's personal histories. SCN's website, publications, classes, and reading and writing circles connect and encourage women writers world wide. Click here to check out all SCN has to offer. 

I began blogging on November 1, 2010, my sixtieth birthday. I was shy about my efforts. I know some of the finest bloggers on the Internet. I was also insecure about my technology skills. I did not share my blog until January of this year so I am still very much a novice. You can imagine my delight when SCN, an organization of talented creative women, recognized my work with their Star Blogger award. 

There is no need to worry that I will get the "big head" over this. It took me two weeks to figure out how to get the badge, above in today's post and forever on the right side bar, imported onto my site! As is often the case for me, the solution was simple once I knew what it was... ah technology!

I was concerned that blogging would detract from my memoir writing. Not so, blogging is such a pleasure that it gives me added zest and inspiration. It has also led me back to a long dormant interest in photography. 

The most rewarding aspect of blogging is membership in another Internet community to support and encourage my creativity. 

Thanks Story Circle Network for the cyber home, for connecting me with amazing women writers, for inspiration, for encouragement, and for my Star Blogger recognition!

Lifelong Learning

I think I'm in love. I'm facilitating (they say moderating) a seminar, Let Me Tell You about the Time: An Introduction to Lifewriting at the University of Dayton Lifelong Learning Institute. This is my first time volunteering to moderate a seminar. In the past, I've taught students from preschool age to the doctoral level so I'm comfortable teaching. But this is a teaching situation distinct from all my prior experience.

You must be fifty years of age or older to attend UDLLI. There are no assignments and no grades. People register for seminars based on their interests, period. And, if the seminar is not what they expected, they simply withdraw. Attendance is not mandatory; several folks told me on the very first day which of the six sessions they would miss. I was a bit jealous when I learned these missed classes frequently involved travel, often to warm, sunny places. These are lovely, well-educated, sophisticated men and women. While exceedingly polite, they make it quite clear what they are willing or not willing to do for the class.

At first I worried about this new paradigm. Learning for leaning's sake? Taking a seminar as much for the social interaction as for the topic? Once I relaxed a bit I found this the most refreshing and invigorating atmosphere. My original plan was to have everyone complete at least one life story and then publish an anthology of these stories at the end of the six weeks. Um, no. Some folks wanted their story in a handwritten document. Some wanted it typed but not published. Some wanted to incorporate photos and artifacts. Some wanted to write for their own pleasure and did not particularly care about sharing their writing. But what stories they have to tell! The eight men and six women, ranging in age from fifty-seven to late eighties, are writing about life experiences that keep me captivated each and every Tuesday.

Class thus far has included some strategy tips, some writing prompts, and some time to write followed by sharing. My favorite part of the two hour class is when they read from their work. Each sharing prompts a flood of responses and questions from the group. Their descriptions of the setting and era of the tale combined with the experience they chose to share fold us all into the memory.

Last week they brought photographs and mementoes that related to their story. One gentleman had pictures of himself right after enlistment and right after returning from battle. What a story those pictures told. One class member brought in some 45 rpm records from his collection and explained how you could tell the age of the record from the label design. Plus, oh those songs! Made me want to jump up and dance. One beautiful album with a hand tooled leather cover showed a class member's parents from their wedding through her early years. Another person's photo of himself dressed as Santa with his granddaughter was the spring board for the tale of how he first began to dress as Santa, in a costume made by his wife, and how that lead to years of Santa experiences.

This week, we are going to play with six word memoirs. I introduced the concept last class so folks could think ahead. One of the men immediately composed a five word memoir. A classmate promptly jumped in with the sixth word for a perfect finish and a roar of laughter and approval from us all. I'm looking forward to the next session to hear what else is composed.

I have no idea what the finished class projects will be. Each person's product, if any, will reflect his or her desire. I only know that I have fallen in love with a vibrant group of writers who are taking me to school as to what really matters and I am so grateful!