Why Am I Here?

A book of ideas on thinking 

Why Am I Here?

If you’ve asked yourself this question in a strange room after a night of heavy drinking, that’s not what I’m about. If you’ve asked it while wondering if you should try to develop a relationship with a church or synagogue, you’re the person I’m talking to.

 

If you’re like me, you have difficulty buying the Christianity message, and Judaism seems to be a religion with no benefits, except maybe cultural. You can’t escape having a belief whether or not you put any thought into it. I know some people who seem to believe that the meaning of life is a good hamburger.

 

NO ANSWERS

 

Some of us can’t accept the meaning of life even if we don’t know the meaning. Or perhaps, we can’t accept that we can’t discover a meaning. Not even hamburgers.

 

Of course, philosophers can explain it, but when’s the last time you tried reading a book by John Locke or Immanuel Kant? Even when written in English, their words are unrecognizable, like a foreign language. Or if Socrates, the writing is so dense your thoughts implode.

 

On the other hand are philosophers who advocate meditation by which you can explore the self and existence. Maybe something’s wrong with me, but the only thing I get out of meditation is frustration. Wondering how much longer I can try to get my brain into a meaningful clarity has only led to boredom. 

 

GIVING UP THE QUESTIONS

 

In the book At the Intersection of Existence, author Davis Stanard asks himself questions about existence. Why Am I Here? Davis suggests we get over that and build a belief system that allows us to live a meaningful life, whatever is out there beyond life. He doesn’t provide answers but he gives himself, and by implication the reader, permission to quit asking unanswerable questions.

At the Intersection of Existence Back Cover

London Visit

TIME WITH OUR OLDEST SON

Just getting around to thinking about our trip to visit Jason & family in London. We arrived on granddaughter Milla's birthday and returned to the States Dec. 11.

Milla celebrated her 15th birthday.

Jason, Milla, and Doug went to a tree lot and brought home a tree. We all helped decorate it. Ellen prepared our Christmas dinner and she is a great cook. When we arrived, she had cooked a poppyseed cake and a chocolate bundt, yum!

With Lola in the living room.

Mince pies are a big thing in London. Individual pies are sold in packets of six. Somebody bought two different brands, one expensive and one cheap. We had a pie tasting contest to see which was the better flavor. The results were pretty much split, but I picked the cheap mince pie.

 

WASSAIL, OH YEAH!

We walked up Church Street to look at Christmas decorations and stopped for a cup of wassail at an Irish pub. Nothing is better than wassail when you’re outside on a cold day. It’s a spiced red wine served warm. A cup of that and you won’t feel cold, even if it’s 20 degrees. By the way, degrees are in Celsius in Europe, which means you have to convert to Fahrenheit to get an American reading.

 

All of us love fish and chips from Sutton and Sons. The English crew ordered a side of mushy peas but Doug and I haven’t become that English yet.

Fish and Chips restaurant near Jason's.

Jason reserved seats to see “Hamilton” at the Victoria Palace theater. Some people would think the disjunction of an 18^th Century story paired with 21^st Century music would be in some way dishonest. For five minutes, I had my doubts about it working, but 15 minutes in, the music won me over. A talented cast. 

At Victoria Theater.

Jason and Ellen hardly ever use their car. While we were there, it was convenient to get around on either the bus or the tube.

Ellen, me and Jason on the tube.

Doug and I went to Brussels for several days to visit friends. While there, we drove to Waterloo where a huge mound with a lion on top commemorates Napoleon’s defeat.

The lion is barely visible above the Panorama.

Jason's recent kitchen renovations expands the space for a table. We spent lots of time there. 

The glass doors to the garden are new.

Time to go home, and it was sad to say goodbye.

Flight to Heathrow

 

DREAD OF AIRPORTS

 

My least favorite place is an airport where you haul around luggage while dodging body traffic and getting lost. When I traveled alone to Chicago for a funeral in September, O’Hare Airport tested my endurance. Just finding my way around was a challenge.

 

On December 1, Doug and I set off for London and a visit with Jason and his family. Charlotte airport was easier, mainly because I was traveling with Doug. We gave ourselves three (or was it four?) hours to drive to Charlotte and get to a boarding gate for Heathrow Airport. Fortunately, Doug remembered that we needed advance reservations to park in the daily parking lot.

 

You have to be computer literate to get a seat on a flight, and luckily Doug handles most of the technicalities. In addition to parking reservations, he booked our airline tickets online and checked-in online 24 hours in advance. We still had to get in line to check our luggage and pass through security.

 

I try to pack luggage that I can manage by myself, but our 10 days in London pushed the limit. Doug helped me with my bag when we boarded the bus to and from the parking lot to the terminal.

 

I find it helps me to begin these trips by realizing in advance that I will wait in long lines, I will get lost, I will pay more than I expect, I will get inaccurate directions, and I will be tired and grouchy.

 

The payoff was landing in London and having time to spend with Jason, Ellen, Lola, and Milla. More to come about our visit.

 

L to Rt - Doug, Milla, Ellen, Jason, Lola, Me

 

 

The Market RCPL

 IN PERSON AT RCPL LIBRARY

Get out of your box, circulate!  

Come to the Richland County Library’s Main Branch on Wednesday (June 14) from 10 AM until 2 PM for the Market which promotes local artists, crafters, and farmers. I’ll be the featured author and would love to see you. If you haven’t been to the library since the renovations, it’s worth a visit to see the upgrade. Remember that reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are.

Last week I was as at Murrells Inlet, SC, on vacation with our family. Not much sunshine and more rain than we expected. But we found other things to do, such as—

Play baseball on the beach. We also went to a Pelicans game in Myrtle Beach.

Sketch drawings. I took along colored pencils and sketch pads. Finished one drawing, which looked worse the longer I worked on it.

Love to draw!

Worked on and finished a puzzle that was made from a photo of our six grandkids. Doug and I put Mod Podge on it and will hang it in a guestroom.

Matt, Ellen, and Milla at puzzle

The grandkids filmed a paranormal mystery movie titled "Whistle and They Will Come." They're making great strides with cinematography. Good plot too.

We had great dinner meals, everybody taking a turn in the kitchen. A highlight of the week was son Davis's birthday.

Happy Birthday, Davis!

Cincinnati Visit

HALLOWEEN IN OHIO

 

Just home from Cincinnati and a visit with son Davis and his family. They threw a Halloween party Saturday night and prepared gruesome treats for the guests (looked scary, tasted good).

Spiders are black olives on deviled eggs.

 

cookies w/frosting=ghosts and witch hats

Black walnut trees grow beside their house, and I spent time trying to get walnuts out of the shells. Now I know why they are so expensive. Doug and I picked out about a half cup in the three days we were there.

 

On the patio with black walnuts

We carved jack o’lanterns, put them on the front steps.

Davis carved the biggest one.

 

Davis and Cindy, ready for trick or treat

Lots of little monsters came by their house Monday evening. I took a mask that was so scary it bothered me. Only wore it for a short time.

 

Back in Lexington now, about five pounds heavier…

 

 

Iceland

 

 

Iceland's Blue Lagoon Mineral Bath

TRIP TO ICELAND

My husband is a runner, and last week he ran Iceland's half marathon along with son Jason. 

 

Doug and Jason at the finish.

Good times for both of them, despite winds gusting to 40 mph.

 

Doug, Nila, and I did tourist stuff on Thursday and Friday before the race. We went to the Blue Lagoon for a hot mineral swim. 

 

Blue Lagoon photographer provided photos.

Went to Thingvellir to see the area where the North American and Euroasian tectonic plates are moving apart, which causes geothermal and volcanic energy.

 

Nila and I, between volcanic rock.

Saw the majestic Gullfoss waterfalls.

 

Nila and Doug at Gullfoss.

 Went to Öxárfoss waterfall. Water moves swiftly in Iceland, even in small streams.

 

With Nila at Öxárfoss waterfall

The marathon was just one of numerous events during Reykjavik's Culture weekend. The streets were unexpectedly alive with music—street musicians, some combos, some pop groups.

 

We happened upon concerts. At the Harpa, which is the city's concert hall and an architectural rarity, a chorus was performing a capella in the open lobby which has four balconies. 

 

We stood on the ground floor, looking up at audience.

The singers stood on separate balconies, the men on one and the women on another. At the conclusion, the audience joined the singers for what was obviously an Icelandic song. A beautiful experience.

 

Another unexpected event was an organ recital in the Hallgrimskirkja Church. The performer stunned us with overpowering music you could feel in your chest. 

 

The food is exceptionally good, no MacDonalds or Burger Kings. I loved the soups. Fish is a specialty. Food is expensive, for there are no fields for truck farming, only volcanic soil. They grow vegetables in greenhouses. 

Nila at restaurant that offered puffin and grilled whale.

Jason made it to the final concert and fireworks Saturday night, and I wish I had had the energy to be there.

 

Jason took this photo.

Although the language is Icelandic, we had no problems with English. On our return Monday, United Airline took us from Reykjavik to Newark, New Jersey (about 6 hours) and cancelled our connecting flight to Charlotte. We spent an unplanned overnight in Newark. 

 

Safety and travel

 

THE LONE TRAVELER

 

I have three questions this morning:

1) Should a person (my son) travel abroad alone?

2) And if they do, should they provide an itinerary to family?

3) Am I a worry-wort?

 

My adult son is traveling alone in a foreign country. I've asked for an itinerary of where he plans to stay and what he'll visit. The hints I'm getting from my husband is that the answer to #3 is "yes."

 

Ignorance can mean danger if not death. There's a sharp curve in the highway in front of my brother's house in Fairview where at least two accidents have occurred in the last several years, one of them with a fatality. My point is that drivers on the Wagener Highway, which is usually straight as an arrow, will encounter this curve suddenly, and if you don't know the road, you're a candidate for an accident. 

 

It's foolish to approach the unknown as if it is known, and a foreign country is unknown territory. Books on travel don't usually point out risky areas, gang territory, or antiAmerican neighborhoods.

 

THERE IS NO SURE LIFE. THERE IS SURE DEATH.

So if we want to be sure about anything, we can be sure that the day will come when we will die. Do we want increase our chances of dying?

 

We can do this in a number of ways:

—climb a mountain

—drive a car

—live on the south side of Chicago

—travel alone in Iran

 

My son is not in Iran, but a country that, by comparison, is "safe" for Americans. But is any lone traveler safe? Many things influence the odds affecting safety. Add one person as a companion and the safety meter improves.

 

DISAPPEARANCE

Years ago a businessman boarded a plane in Florida for a trip to Colombia and was never heard from again. Why do I remember this? My husband was traveling for business at the time. This was somebody's husband. Businesses keep track of their traveling managers for several reasons, not least of which is for safety.

 

PLAYIING THE ODDS

It's a matter of making favorable odds for yourself. A mountain climber equips himself, chooses weather and circumstances that affect his chances of survival. The way people drive influences those chances. So does where you live.

 

As I write this, my husband is traveling alone in Illinois. It is a comfort to me to have the name of his motel and his daily plans. We talk on the phone every day. However, international travel with multiple time zones makes phone calls problematic. Alone in Illinois is not the same as alone in Latvia.

 

AM I A WORRY-WART?

Years ago in the 1930s, a cousin of my father disappeared without explanation, and he wasn't in a foreign country, unless you consider the backwoods of South Carolina foreign (you can make the argument). The name Luico Gantt has become legendary in our family. There was a rumor he was in Washington, DC, and a cousin in the military tried to find him. Even today, I have a sense of loss for this relative I never knew.

 

Is it unreasonable for me to want to keep track of a family member? By asking my son for an itinerary am I a pessimist, assuming the worst?

 

May events

Presentation and Graduation

The floor of Badd Boy's Café was littered with candy wrappers when I finished my presentation at Words & Wine on May 24. The audience became engrossed in 1672 traveling actors when I began to reward their attention with bonbons. The subject of Béjart's Caravan (my new novel) picked up a few actors as we traveled through 30 minutes of talking about sorcerers, relics, and Molière's grave. 

Making a pitch for my new book.

Went to Cincinnati for Granddaughter Ava's graduation from high school on May 29. Of course she was the prettiest and smartest student in the class. The entire family was grinning with tears in our eyes. She's off to college next year, a separation we aren't looking forward to. Can't help but wish she was a little girl again.  

Ava with diploma in hand.

Doug and I drove back from Cincinnati with a brouhaha in the backseat of the pickup--by which I mean grandsons Frank (15 years old), Marlon (14 years old) and Ivan (9). They stayed in Lexington with us for a week of tumble and rumble. A highlight was fishing, with each of them catching at least one. 

 

Went to a Blowfish game- Frank, Marlon, Ivan, Doug

They went home on Sunday. More sad partings. Frank returned to Cincinnati where he has a summer job at the Bluebird Café. Marlon & Ivan were off to Rome, Georgia and will spend most of the summer in Majorca with their maternal grandparents.

 

Saying "good-bye." Three grandsons and Dtr-in-law Noemi.

Tomorrow I'm having dinner with former classmates from Pelion High School. Our favorite HS coach, Walter Johnson, passed away this week. It will be good for us to be together and remember him. He was tall in many ways, most of all in spirit. Nothing got him down, not even our unruly class. 

 

Haven't been writing lately. Don't have the time nor the inspiration. As I write that, I know it's up to me to find the time. And inspiration only comes if I make the time to write.

 

 

 

 

2021 Christmas

 

Christmas Day at Jason and Ellen's place

CHRISTMAS IN LONDON

 

Doug and I spent Christmas with Jason and his family. Everything was great about the trip except the airport, which was a headache, foot ache, stomach ache...you get the idea. 

 

(L to Rt.) Jason, Ellen, Lola, Milla, Me, Doug

We were treated royally by Jason, Ellen, and the girls. I can see why a person would choose to live in London, tho you need a padded wallet. Bookstores still exist, for one thing. Busy streets with little shops of every make and model. Variety of eating establishments—pubs, cafes, restaurants, carry-outs, coffee shops. Food prepared on the premises --very little fast food.

 

I'm with granddaughter Milla at Abney Cemetery in Hackney

  

One of the places I return to when we visit is Abney Cemetery, which is a short walk from the house. It's a forest with chaotic graves and ancient headstones overgrown with vines.

 

Jason and Milla at memorial for soldiers killed in war

The Hackney Theatre is a glamorous venue with gold gilded trim, chandeliers, and a ceiling light that looks like the sky filled with stars. We attended a panto (short for pantomime, a uniquely English interpretation) titled "Jack and the Beanstalk." It was musical slapstick, fun for children and adults. 

 

We went to the Barbican Centre one night for Beethoven's Ninth. I'm reminded of the difference between hearing music on my earbuds and hearing it live in an auditorium. I'm not a classical music fan but when "Ode to Joy" came on, it was a unique and heartfelt moment. 

Me and Jason at the Barbican

I was reminded of not just our musical heritage, but of our history as humans, as creative creatures who re-invent the world with the passage of time. And what is new can only exist because of what existed before we arrived on the scene. 

 

One of my favorite photos, Jason at Abney Cemetery

thoughts on grieving

 

How We Say Good-bye

 

My niece Tracy passed away in the early hours of yesterday. This morning we got word that her body had been cremated and a memorial service will be at some future time. Her departing was short-lived and we’re still trying to take in what has happened.

 

During her illness, her immediate family discouraged the rest of us from making calls or otherwise communicating with them about Tracy. In her final weeks of hospitals, doctors, and agony (and from all accounts it was agony) she was attended by her husband and parents-in-law. Most of us kept our distance and depended on the occasional family member able to get updates.

 

Now we are dealing with devastating emotions without the consolation of being together. This is not a criticism nor am I suggesting this is a bad thing. It’s an observation that our experience is unlike what is usually expected.

 

Years ago my husband worked with a colleague whose father died. This man went from the funeral in the morning to the office in the afternoon and didn’t miss a day of work. We wondered if something was wrong with him, or with his relationship with his father.

 

We’ve come to believe the normal way to face grief or hardship is to pour out our feelings to others, even strangers. We’re told that suppressed emotions cause mental problems, even cruelty or criminal behavior. Sharing our emotions is supposed to help us avoid personality defects.

 

The ubiquitous advice is to find a support group, make connections, get help. Join group therapy. Share your feelings with others, even if it’s online with somebody you’ve never met.

 

Are we getting to the point that we suspect we’re not having an emotion if we don’t share it with others? Do we think that the more people who are “sharing” our suffering, the stronger our emotion and the greater the benefit?

 

What about those of us who want little if any emotional “support?” Or even those of us who find other people as an intrusion to our grieving? What of people who prefer to deal with death (or whatever the problem) alone?

 

As for Tracy, she brought a bright light to our family. Even the tone of her voice projected a sense of happiness—it could be heard in a crowd, adding a note of cheer. We will miss her.

 

 

Thinking about the past

 

TIME HEALS?

 

They say that time heals all wounds but does it?

 

This may sound silly, but I remember the pain of learning there was no Santa Claus. For at least a year I denied to myself what was becoming obvious, that Santa didn’t exist and never had. I felt robbed of something that was mystical and amazing.

 

Maybe that was a trivial loss. But I still feel like the walking wounded.

 

On a more serious note, I have lost my mother and father, both long since deceased. That was a wound and time hasn’t healed it. Time has taught me that I can tolerate what I thought I couldn’t. It has taught me that I can continue without my parents, but it hasn’t taken away the sadness and the pain of that loss. However, with the passing of years, it is no longer a shocking pain.

 

Time is a double-edged sword. It gives us memories of moments of joy offset by moments of heartache. That’s one reason I wrote the poems in Time Carries All Things Away ($12.00 plus shipping). Available from me at brstanard at gmail.com. Or Main Street Rag at http://mainstreetragbookstore.com/?s=bonnie+stanard.

 

This is me, sucking my thumb...