NPR and a Father's Love

My love of NPR started seven years ago this week. However if even eight years ago, if you had told me that, I listen to NPR every day, and be practically despondent if I didn’t get my daily dose of NPR, I would have looked at you in such a way that meant I clearly thought you were insane. This is because growing up I hated NPR. Despised it would probably be a more accurate description. My dad on the other hand loved it, and had that station playing every time I was in the car with him. For me this was pure torture, because in my view one listened to MUSIC while in the car and anything else was just plain crazy.  I remember that every time I'd be driving with him and he’d pull into a gas station to get a soda I would put on a music station while he was inside. I always hoped that he’d leave it there when he got back. He never did, but I never stopped trying (the definition of insanity does actually apply here) I couldn’t wait until I had my own car, and I vowed I would never, ever, let NPR be played in it.

As far as I can recall, I kept that promise from the first second I got my license,  all the way up to October 25, 2007. That was the day my dad died. The following week I went back to school, and when driving to and from class I had the radio on. But no matter which station I turned to - country, rock, classical, jazz -  there was simply nothing I was in the mood to listen to. With each new station I tried I just grew more upset, irritated, and restless. I kept trying though because I know that above all else I could not handle silence.  And then somewhere in my mind, this little voice whispered “NPR”…. I flipped through the stations as fast as I could finally landing on 91.1 KSKA and it turned out to be exactly what I needed. Where my favorite music stations seemed to be like pouring salt over and open wound, the steady stream of voices from news journalists flowing out my speakers seemed almost like I was coming home after an impossibly long day. I don’t think I changed the dial again for at least two months.

Over the last seven years my listening habits have waxed, waned then waxed again. There are months where I can’t get enough, and other months where I find myself in a frame of mind that just needs music. My car antenna also broke off last winter which makes for a static NPR station that is just too much for me at times. But while there are times that NPR has been put on the back burner, my love for public radio has only continued to grow. I need it in my life coffee, chocolate and books. My mornings feel incomplete without at least a few minutes of hearing the voices of Steve Inkseep, Renee Montaine, and David Greene. The voice of host Tom Ashbrook plays through my apartment each morning with the OnPoint podcast. Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me NEVER fails to make me laugh, and I’ve learned through the stories on Snap Judgement that (in the words of host Glenn Washington) “I have heroes I didn’t even know I had”. NPR's website is up on my browser at work at least 80-90% of the time I'm there and I frequently put on my headphones to get lost in it's news, programs, and music while working through my daily To-Do list.

I wish I could tell my dad all this. I think he'd be thrilled that I had come round to his way of thinking, and happy that I'd found a way to keep up with the world and all it's happenings. I miss my dad so much - more now then the day I lost him. There are days I would give just about anything for one more hug, one more road trip with Harry Potter playing, even one more construction/home improvement project that he so loved to do. I could use his strength and words of encouragement now more than ever.  I am so grateful though for how long I did have him. So grateful that he was there for the soccer games, the dance recitals, ice skating competitions, and everything mushing. I'm lucky that he was the kind of dad that would help his daughter build the bed she wanted, or who built a swing set as a surprise for his daughters when they were gone on vacation. He was there for all the holidays, all the birthdays, and there were days he just stayed home to be with us - just because. I didn't realize for a long time just how lucky I was, but I know now he was one of the best dads a girl can ask for. I'm thankful I got a chance to tell him that before he passed. I can only hope that he would be proud of (most of) the decisions I've made since he's left.  My goal in life is to create a future that he would have loved - that he would have wanted for me. He told me once that he didn't care what I did as long as I "followed my bliss". I intend to do just that.

A Rough Chapter

Sometimes you just get lost.
Sometimes you find yourself trapped
Sometimes the maze you are in is just to much for your strength,
Sometimes your mind goes to war with your soul.
Sometimes you just need to ask for help.

It hurts, it sucks, it frustruates, it shatters.
Shame, weakness abounds, you feel flattened - exposed.
Sisyphus's journey feels a short walk in comparison.
You hate that anyone has to know.

But it's needed - it's necessary.
The only way to the future because
the only other option is not having one.

I wrote this poem Tuesday, but am not quite ready to share the reason behind the words. Suffice it to say that this last week has been kind of a rough one in the story of my life. It will likely never make my list of of top 10 favorite times, but years from now when I look back it will probably be on my list of top 10 most important. As a result of what happened my trip to Utah has been cancelled, my ability to do anything physical has been severely restricted, and until further notice I am not allowed to have caffeine of any kind. In a day I lost many of my all time favorite loves; my favorite stress reducers have been stripped away.

At least it's easy for my mind to twist that way. I know that I still have so many of the things that make my life rich, that make me one of the luckiest people alive. I have been surrounded by love from my mom and sisters. The few friends who know what has taken place have given me an incredible level of support. I have met new people who have inspired me with their inner strength and given me the courage to keep going to find my own. I have my two cats who keep me smiling, warm blankets to curl up and relax in, hot tea to soothe, and my books for when I need to get lost in another world.

I also know that underneath the whirlwind of happy confused misery I'm now living in I am doing the absolute best thing I can for my future. I'm sorry if anyone is frustruated by my holding back. I hope that one day, soon, I will feel strong and fearless enough to share without shame or embarassment but that is definitely not today. Today I wanted to let others know that there is a reason why I'm suddenly absenting myself from all company and fun things and more important  I just needed to write something. 

A Winter's Tale

For those who know me it is no secret that I love libraries. In particular I love my library in Brunswick and thanks to it's awesomeness have enjoyed countless books, plays, and movies over the last year. Just walking into the doors of a library fills me with a rush of excitement - it's like I have a whole bookstore of my own and everything is free!! (yes I know total nerd)

There is however one thing that I dislike; which is that I cannot write or draw in the books themselves. I have gotten into the habit of underlining any words, lines and/or paragraphs that strike me for whatever reason in any book I read and if a book is one I own this is obviously not an issue. The fact that I can't do this with library books is irritating beyond belief, kind of like a mosquito bite that you know you're not supposed to scratch but doing so is the only that provides any relief - I feel like I have to do something to show the world that those words have moved me. Of course certain books are worse than others and the one I'm reading now is one such story. 

At the recommendation of a friend I am reading "A Winter's Tale" by Mark Helperin. It is one of the most beautifully written novels that I have read in a long while and shines on some of the things I love most - winter, the stars, and the magic of early morning. It has taken supreme willpower to not take a pen to those pages and I have actually wondered just how much the library would charge me if I just told them I lost the book and would have to pay for the whole thing. It also in not a short novel and I will almost definitely not finish it before I leave for Utah; which sadly means a two week gap before I will be able to finish. There isn't really anything I can do about that last part, but in order to give my crazy self some peace of mind I am going to share just a few of the passages that spoke to my heart and captured my imagination....


“But despite the cold and perhaps because of it, the sights she saw were what other people would have called dreams, desires, miracles”

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“The abandoned stars were hers for the many rich hours of sparkling winter nights, and, unattended, she took them in like lovers”

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"They got up steam and proceeded calmly to the north – where there seemed to be no people, but only mountains, lakes, reedy snow-filled steppes, and winter gods who played with storms and stars”

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 “There are animals in the stars,” she declared, “like the animal that you describe, with a pelt of light, and deep endless eyes. Astronomers think that the constellations were imagined. They were not imagined at all. There are animals, far distant, that move and thrash smoothly, and yet are entirely still. They aren’t made up of the few stars in the constellations that represent them-they’re too vast-but these point in the directions in which they lie…The eyes of these creatures are wider than a thousand of the universes that we think we know. And the celestial animals move about…all in infinite time, and the crackling of their coats is what makes the static and hissing which bathes an infinity of worlds”

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“She had indeed discovered grace, or madness, in her visions of the starlight”

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“Remember, what we are trying to do in this life is to shatter time and bring back the dead. Rise, rise and see the whole world”

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“He was glad it was winter, when love and ambition flare in the cold”

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“It was something that he could understand only with the gifts that come of early morning – one of those things, like a dream, that one cannot always piece together again to remember and feel in sunlight and day. And yet enough early risings and enough work of heart and memory will bring it, half alive, from unfamiliar depths”

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And because I just can't resist, I end with a picture of one of my favorite reading companions  :)

Today I am Grateful

I am so grateful for October's. I'm grateful for that unwavering enchanting full moon that filled my eyes as I fell asleep last night and still glowed when I opened them this morning. I'm grateful for the purring kitten that was curled up next to me, for hot Columbian coffee, Shakespeare plays, for the most magnificent book I'm reading now, and peanut butter jar breakfasts. I am grateful for the years I lived in Alaska, and the sight of the sun rising over the river as I drove into work. I'm grateful for autumn in Maine and that I get to share it with my mom in just a few days! I am grateful, and unbelievably excited, for the end of this month when I get to step off a plane in Utah and spend 14 days with my best friend for the first time in 21 years!

As a general rule I am easily able to see the gifts I've been granted in life and be thankful for them. And I have these moments where I find myself just overwhelmed with the wonder of it all. This morning - today - is one of those times. I have experienced some truly awesome moments this year, but I have also struggled with certain realities and things have been kind of tough for me. I am grateful that I do still have days like these. They let me know that I haven't forgotten the true beauty of my life and the world I live in.

The Eyre Affair

Imagine living where a person can stop and then step into and out of time. A planet where dodos have been genetically recreated and are as popular a household pet as cats and dogs. Dream of a place where literature is so important there is a division of the law that is just for book crime and the question of whether Shakespeare really wrote those plays is a daily debate for everyone; a world where some are literally able to read themselves into the pages of a book and walk through those famous halls, interact with the characters we know, and sometimes even change the stories themselves...Now just think of the horror of one of those people stepping into a book and back out with one of those beloved characters in tow changing forever the course of that tale everywhere in the world....

That is the life of Thursday Next, the main character of the book "The Eyre Affair" by Jasper Fforde. For anyone who loves reading, and especially enjoys a good classic or two, I recommend it. It's light-heartedly serious and an easy fun read, and you close the back cover feeling decidedly satisfied. And of course it's not possible to read such a book and not imagine being handed such a gift as to walk inside the pages of your beloved favorites!

So I end this post with a question for you all. If you were suddenly given the delicious possibility of opening a book and stepping into it's pages, handed the chance to walk through the lines which book would you choose? But I'm going to challenge you...since this book is written mostly around the authors of old I want you to choose a book that is at least 100 years today. I myself have been trying to figure out what I would choose under that rule; I' think I've narrowed it down, but it is a big decision so I'm still thinking...