1. I moved my reading in two directions today. First, I started reading Patricia Nelson Limerick's book from over thirty years ago, Legacy of Conquest. It's been on my mind for over twenty-five years, but I've never buckled down and read this study of the American West.
At the same time, I've been wanting to read short essays. On Monday, a book I possessed and read back in the early 90s arrived. I am really happy to have Carolyn Bly's Letters from the Country back in the house and look forward to re-reading her descriptions, stories, and observations of life in and around rural Madison, Minnesota. In the 1970s, Bly published these essays in Minnesota Monthly and compiled them into a book in 1981.
Today, two more books of short essays arrived: Donald Hall's Carnival of Losses: Notes Nearing Ninety and Aimee Nezhukumatathil's recent collection, World of Wonders. I am waiting for Donald Hall's String Too Short to be Saved and another favorite of mine, like Bly's book, from about 25-30 years ago, Brenda Peterson's Saved by Water.
The Limerick book will require me to dedicate long periods of concentration to it. I can dip in and out of these other books, a welcome complement to the demands I look forward to while reading Legacy of Conquest.
I borrowed Legacy of Conquest from the Rathdrum Public Library.
A previous borrower of the book wrote a list on a yellow post-it note.
I think the borrower was reminding her/himself of programs and movies to watch or look into.
Here's the list:
Netflix
Street Food
The Midnight Gospel
The Long Gray Line
Doc Tiny Creatures
I'm sorry this person no longer has the list. If it's any consolation, dear Listmaker, you have piqued my curiosity. I'm going to act as if it wasn't an accident that I discovered this list, but that there is a purpose at work here. (I don't believe there's a purpose. I'm going to act like there is!)
2. Starting to read Limerick's book got me thinking about my good fortune in life. As I surveyed the bibliography of Legacy of Conquest and as I read her introduction to the book, a realization I've contemplated in my retirement sank into me even more deeply today.
My intellect works in a variety of ways, but I don't have what it takes to read voluminous amounts of sources, synthesize them, and work out some kind of interpretation (or thesis).
I am much better at reading and listening to others talk, say about literature, learning from what I've read and heard, and making it understandable to students -- not producing my own original contributions.
My good fortune in life came when I was hired as an instructor at Lane Community College. In my work, I was not under any pressure or obligation to publish in academic journals or publish a book. My job was to teach. The way I taught was always informed by my synthesizing and organizing the thinking and writing and teaching of others, but was rarely, if ever, informed by any original scholarship that I produced.
I love reading the original work of others. Already, I'm enjoying the way Patricia Nelson Limerick is confronting the theses regarding the West of her forebears and carving out her interpretation of events.
Her work demonstrates that she is a superb researcher, thinker, and writer.
I'm happy that my livelihood as a college instructor made it possible for me to enjoy others' writing and rewarded me for doing solid work as a classroom teacher, but did not require me to do what I'm not gifted at: produce original scholarship.
3. As the seven o'clock hour drew near, I made myself a Bourbon Renewal and sipped contentedly on it while enjoying Bill Davie's latest Tree House Concert.
A coincidence occurred. I'd been thinking earlier in the day, as I wrote above, about the satisfaction I'd experienced in my professional life of working within my limitations and also thought about the embarrassment and misery I experienced when I overreached. Looking back, I equate my overreaching with misguided ambition. I realized, over time, that in terms of wanting to "get ahead", be in charge, or make "a name" for myself, I wasn't ambitious, and, in fact, often if I pursued some kind of ambition, it rendered me discontented.
Bill Davie once had ambitions to "make it" in the music business. "Making it" means touring, promoting one's self, being away from home a lot, hustling for gigs and performing frequently, going on radio shows, doing promotional gigs at cd stores and Barnes and Noble bookstores, and more.
At some point, now many years ago, Bill faced up to the realization that he lacked this kind of ambition. He preferred a slower, simpler, calmer, more satisfying life close to home.
So do I.
Once hired at LCC, I never wanted to leave. I tried being an administrator at LCC for a year. I wasn't cut out for it and realized I had little or no ambition to be a leader of this sort. I wanted to invest myself in family life, making sure Adrienne, Patrick, and Molly were cared for; I pursued some avocations; I enjoyed making trips to Kellogg; I wanted to contribute positively to St. Mary's Episcopal Church (but one term on vestry was enough).
I am at my best when I am in a groove. I'm in one now, during this pandemic. I write, read, listen to music and podcasts, take walks, watch college basketball, watch movies, communicate by text messaging with friends, get on Zoom with other friends, attend Bill Davie's weekly virtual concerts, take in poetry readings and other stimulating things online, cook, try to keep the kitchen clean, and take time to contemplate. I enjoy our weekly family dinners. Debbie sends me pictures and updates from New York. It's a good groove.
When Bill talked about his lack of ambition as a performer last night, I wondered if we might be alike in finding contentment in being in a groove. My groove is stimulating, fun, often fascinating, and, despite being alone most of the time, social. Bill's does different things in his groove, but I came away from tonight's concert thinking that Bill and I are both grateful for the groove we've created, whatever it might lack in worldly ambition.
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