I have begun reading more regularly again. My brain feels less...porous...more able to contain a thought for more than a minute or two.
My reading tastes have always been eclectic. I not only loved stories, especially ones that helped explain humans, but also non-fiction, where things or processes were explained.
Part of this drive for 'knowing' came from my parents. My father was illiterate, with about a grade 2 reading level. That didn't make him unintelligent, just uneducated. He knew lots of things, but also? He expressed appreciation for those people who were knowledgeable, talented. To say that he was complex might be an understatement.
Because when it came to family, he rarely expressed pleasure or...pride...in his kids. I can't talk to the relationship between my parents but I remember when he was sick with his final illness, mom would bake 'treats' for him to take to the hospital to try and entice him to eat. The nurses would express appreciation, because mom would make sure they got some treats, too, probably because she didn't want the food to go to waste and while dad would try to eat, he couldn't eat very much. Whenever someone would express amazement at the goodies, my dad would tell them 'my wife built it'.
And that was typical dad. He appreciated people who 'built' things. Made things.
He made many things, some of them less typical than most things guys would make. Yes, he would maintain his vehicles, in the days where it was all mechanics, no computers. Check the oil? Well, duh. Adjust the air pressure in the tires? Of course. Change the oil? Absolutely. But also adjust the headlight height so that he didn't blind oncoming traffic with his headlights set poorly.
He did much of the work of building the house I grew up in. For a while we lived in an unfinished house while mom and dad saved up the money to lay the lino, finish the kitchen cabinets, etc. Mom would paint (her father was a master painter/plasterer, so she knew how to paint properly).
But dad also did other things, like participate in rug hooking. All through my childhood we had scatter mats that mom and dad and when Auntie Betty would come to visit, all 3 would sit round the kitchen table and work on one or other of the current rugs being made.
Then there was the baby rattle he made, using one block of wood and carefully carving out the ball enclosed in the 'cage'. It wasn't 'perfect' but the lines of the toy are lovingly made. I don't remember it from when I was a baby, of course. I'm not even sure where it got put 'away' until mom handed it over to me at some point.
He also made small pieces of jewelry. During his time in the military (WWII), he would take dimes, carve out the centre, then hang the circle on shepherd's hook fittings for gifts for his barrack mates to give to whichever 'girl' they were wooing. And rings. Usually 50 cent pieces, with the centre carved out, to fit someone's ring finger, then hammered out to create a flange. Our wedding rings were made by my dad.
Anyway - books.
I've just finished Written on the Dark by Guy Gavriel Kay. I discovered him 'late' but once I did, I was hooked. He writes 'light' fantasy, or alternate history, frequently draws upon actual history for his plots but not rendered as actual history. He examines human behaviour in a way that I find intriguing. This latest has a poet as the main character and while I would not normally share a significant 'spoiler', I don't think that my sharing this will spoil the read for anyone else. Partly because it is a theme that I have been coming across in these turbulent times, and which I practice myself - that of making things. Making something. Putting creative energy out into the world. And frankly from the vantage point of the last chapter(s) of my own life, what I try to practice.
To build 'that' - whatever 'that' may be. For me it's weaving, making textiles. But for others it might be jewelry, a child or baby toy, a cake?
In the face of so much upheaval and negativity, build...something. Create...something. It may not be perfect - like the rattle (or my tea towels) but it comes into being through the 'magic' of *your* creativity. Something that had not been previously other than raw materials and potential can come to exist - if *you* build it.
And in the end, I find I have found a way to say what I wanted to say without revealing a spoiler. :)
Now that I'm done Kay's book, I have opened Wab Kinew's book The Way You Walk. I have been keeping an eye on him since he was elected as Premier of Manitoba, and honestly? The more I see of him, the more I like him.
I'm glad he has written a book and that I now feel able to read it.
Merci GGK. Miigwich WK.
Thank you to all of you - because I get the sense the vast majority of my regular readers make something.
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