The Cell, NewburyPort, Sailing on the Charles, and Kenya

Compared to the nuptial weekend, this weekend has been very "slow." The weekend was also "lonely" with just the two of us! I had plenty of time to indulge my honeymoon read: The Cellby Stephen King. The King of Creep. I finished it last night in the dead-dark after midnight. I had goosebumps trying to sneak quietly up the stairs to the bedroom--in my own apartment. People should read a King novel just to get jolted now and again. His writing works on you, you have to admit it. Besides high school kids read him (just like I did when I was in high school) and I want to keep up my cool factor.

We did make it up to Newburyport on Saturday. The first annual literary festival was the draw, but the good weather and a day trip from Boston were also key factors. We managed to hear one author speak.

We heard a local author reading from the second book in a planned trilogy. The Season of Open Water is set in a New England town entangled in the Prohibition-era rum-running trade. The author is Dawn Clifton Tripp. She was a good speaker, very candid and open. The historical material for the novel was culled from interviews she did with residents who either remember that era or remember the stories passed down through the generations.

When she read from her book I was convinced to read it, even though she is a "new" author for me! I refrained from purchasing it just yet. My book shelf is too deep as it is. But I will blog her here in my external memory. (A blog is wonderful way to store information in your virtual brain.)

My favorite parts of Newburyport: the tea house and the jewelry store on the corner. The tea house was brilliant--the world needs more tea houses. (Mark my word.) I loved the jewelry story because I discovered a brilliant sapphire that I can wear. It shines like a diamond, without all the political/metaphorical heaviness. I shall have a sapphire one day.

Today we set off to the North End in Boston to catch a day of free sailing--free boat trips are offered to the public at the start of each sailing season. Just as we went out the door, L. called a friend....who invited us to go sailing with him. We stopped in our tracks. He picked us up five minutes from our front door in his MIT sailboat. We cruised the Charles River. It was my very, very first time in a sailboat. It was brilliant. I could be converted to a life that involves more sailboats.

Tonight ends the week of unofficial honeymooning. I have found the destination for the official honeymoon: Kenya. Il Ngwesi. So start saving your pennies if you want to join us for a night sleeping with the lions!

One Week After

The wedding was perfect. Need I say more? One week of wedded bliss. I'll write about it later, perhaps. These things need time to clarify events. In sum: we both said, "I will"; we have rings; there was a feast; our friends gave brilliant toasts (all about us!); we roasted a pig; and the Kansas stars were never so near in the midnight air.

It is back to the reading/writing grind these past few days. It feels good to sleep as much as I need, then wake up to a hardback novel that needs my attention. Finally this afternoon I sat down with my rough draft (I am up to almost 40,000 words!) and did some serious revision. I have a plan to finish the novel. This is good. Endings are tough. Theory is good. Action not so easy (for me, I should say).

Plans for the weekend: the Newburyport Literary Festival. 35 miles from Boston. On the shore. Literary events. Spring air. Did someone say lobster?

Nuptial Fete Menu (April 21) Laszlo Barabasi & Janet Kelley

The Wedding Feast

Aperitifs
palinka (plum brandy), made by Béla Keresztes, uncle of the groom

Blessing
Ronald Kelley, father of the bride

Appetizer
spinach salad with roasted peppers, apple-smoked bacon, romano cheese,

and balsamic vinaigrette
or
original chicken fingers with dipping sauces

Soup
hideg cseresnye leves (chilled cherry soup)

First Course
tenderloin fillet of bison and garlic redskin mashed potato

Toast
Deborah Justice, friend of the bride

Second Course
pan-seared tilapia, seasoned with cilantro and coriander,

served over savory beans in a fragrant broth, bacon, spiced pecan, and garlic,

and topped with tomatoes and crisp leeks

Toast
Boldizsár Jankó, friend of the groom

After-Dinner Entertainment

Champagne Toast
Jason Dinges, friend of the bride

Cake
dobos torta

Dancing

Cheese Course
selection of cheeses, Hungarian salami,

and fresh fruit

Schlink: The Reader

Tonight we will discuss Berhard Schlink’s The Readerfor novel writing class. I admit: I read it twice. I will help lead the discussion and wanted to get a firm grasp on what has been called a “moral maze.” (I also had time due to a cancelled class.) The novel’s central love story involves a fifteen-year-old Michael and a much older woman, Hanna.

In the later parts of the novel Michael, a young law student, watches her trial for war crimes committed during the Holocaust. Michael realizes during the trial that Hanna is illiterate and unable to read the charges against her or set up a defense. She admits to her crimes readily. But because she is busy trying to hide her illiteracy, she appears more guilty than her fellow female guards. She is sentenced to life in prison.

Hanna spends eighteen years in jail, where she learns to read and write with the aid of books Michael reads on cassette and sends to her. The rest you will have to read for yourself. It is a post World War II tale that asks its readers to consider life in the aftermath of terrific violence.

Useful Links

Oprah Winfrey Show: discussion excerpts

Reading Discussion Questions

"Reader's Guide To Moral Maze"

Memorable Lines

"When rescue came, it was almost an assault." (4)

"I didn't reveal anything that I should have kept to myself. I kept something to myself that I should have revealed." (74)

"When I think about it now, I think that our eagerness to assimilate the horrors and our desire to make everyone else aware of them was in fact repulsive." (93)

"All survivor literature talks about this numbness, in which life's functions are reduced to a minimum, behavior becomes completely selfish and indifferent to others, and gassing and burning everyday occurrences." (103)

"Should we only fall silent in revulsion, shame, and guilt?" (104)

"If felt the numbness with which I had followed the horrors of the trial settling over the emotions and thoughts of the past few weeks. . . . But I felt it was right. It allowed me to return to and continue to live my everyday life." (160)

"Pointing at the guilty parties did not free us from shame, but at least it overcome the suffering we went through on account of it." (170)

"You can chase someone away by setting them in a niche." (199)

"The tectonic layers of our lives rest so tightly one on top of the other that we always come up against earlier events in later ones, not as matter that has been fully formed and pushed aside, but absolutely present and alive." (217)

Whirlwind

March 30 – April 7

The weeks have been a blur. Life lived one event at a time with no room to think about tomorrow. It was quite a change from my writer’s life of pajamas till noon and books as my companions.

We had three guests, one birthday, two parties, late-night girl talk, seafood and pasta, dress shopping and the philosophy of wedding dress shopping, and a tired visit to the Garden of Eden for macaroni and cheese.

After my guests were safely aboard planes and trains, I set off for Kansas and a whirlwind of florists, caterers, and a priest. Pancakes were involved. I was supposed to fly back to Boston late Tuesday, then fly out early to DC.

But the flight was delayed. . . so I had them reroute me directly to DC. I headed for a round of Capital Hill lobbying in my torn jeans. Luckily Ann Taylor at Union Station had just the navy suit and faux pearls (a double strand) that I never knew I always wanted. The shoes were cute, but evil. (Note: wedding shoes –which haven’t yet been purchased—may be less cute.)

Luckily my brother pointed out a Starbucks that morning and praised-be they gave me an embarrassingly huge venti latte by mistake. That tanker of milk and caffeine lasted me until our calorie break at 4:30—an apple thrown into my bag at the last minute way back in the Wichita airport.

We met with every single Indiana congress person and senator. Well, we met with their very young aides. We gave a spiel about the Writing Project. We were intelligent and dynamic and our (my) feet hurt like the dickens. That night wine and cheese at the postal museum reception and then pizza and wine with my brother at the Matchbox.

The next day it was sessions and digital story telling and blogs and the achievement gap. I took the train to Baltimore. I saw the house and the wedding album. I ate a pound of chips and salsa before the enchiladas. Then onboard the flight back to Boston, another delay. My seatmate was something like a soul mate, but we never even exchanged names. Then metro home. Then hugs and kisses. Then bed. Then no dreams, bliss.