Miniature Rooms

 I love miniature rooms. Not to be confused with doll houses, miniature rooms can be a child fantasy but miniature rooms relate more to adult fantasy and artistry.  

I learned many years ago that, when traveling, it's usually a good experience to visit libraries in the heart of big cities.  There are, many times, big artistic surprises, including miniature rooms. 

A while back, my friend, Christie, gave me the book "Miniature Rooms."  It features the Thorne rooms at the Art Institute of Chicago.

The Thorne Miniature Rooms are one of the beloved exhibits at The Art Institute of Chicago.  Each year thousands of visitors travel slowly down the long, darkened Thorne galleries in ones and twos, peering into the 68 lighted boxes which transport their imaginations to far-off times and places. 

Miniature rooms are three demential and measured in inches.  You can 

buy one or make your own, in case you'd  like to replicate the living

room you grew up in (which I do not.)  Places like Hobby Lobby have

some supplies to get stated but finding just the right tiny books for your

miniature 4 inch high bookcase can be daunting

The creator of the Thorne rooms, Narcissa Thorne, was way, way over the top, miniature room wise.  She and her wealthy husband traveled the world and when she saw a room she loved, she would painstakingly recreate it, using materials she'd gathered as she traveled.  And I'm sure she had lots of tiny tweezers.  And I'm sure none of her treasures came from Hobby Lobby.

Her son called her life long fascination a compulsion.  

Maybe so, but her "compulsion" has enabled thousands of people each year to enjoy her works of art.  

For many years I put out a  version of a Christmas living room in my bookcase.  Crude by Mrs Thorne's standards, but a fun Christmas fantasy.  Last year was the last of the Christmas bookcase living rooms.  I no longer have the energy to move the books.  

 

                                                                    

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This Is The Day I Was Born

 Well, yes, I was a few months old when this photo was taken.  I remember the cloverleaf table I'm sitting on.  I remember, during World War II,  saving bacon drippings in a jar that sat on the stove  Why?  We were told it was needed for the war effort. 

I remember being in elementary school and listening to General MacArthur's "Old Soldiers Never Die" speech on the radio.

I was in Atlanta and South Florida in the 70s doing civil rights work. It was scary, but we thought we were invincible.

My life has been filled with adventure.  Much of it brings good memories,  especially my big family that continues to expand.  

Eleven years ago, on my 75th birthday,  I wrote a blog posting very similar  to this one.  I said I was the happiest I've ever been.  

That is no longer true.  While I'm reasonably content and still living a full life, I have suffered loss.  Loss of those very close to me, loss of my ability to travel and attend big venues, especially church.  My life has narrowed  All of my middle-aged children, and other family members, have experienced their own losses, some small and some huge.  It's my choice to live in that space with them, as best I can. And, of course, the flip side is that I get to share in their triumphs as well. 

My friends, who truly keep me centered and sane, are fading.  Some are gone. Some are still, like me, on the journey.  They, along with a few family members,  provide me with, among other things, intellectual stimulation which I require on a daily basis to stay happy.  

Loss is the price we pay for living a very long life.  Along with it, if we're not cognitively impaired, we can model the way we believe oldies should behave and how we should be treated.  When my doctor's assistant calls me "young lady," a demeaning title for an old woman, I can't let that slide.

My faith is strong, my sense of humor is in tact, and I still have miles to go before I sleep. 

***

Oklahoma!

My granddaughter is a theater major at Palm Beach Atlantic University.  When she was home for Thanksgiving she serenaded us with

several songs, including one from my all time favorite musical play and film, Oklahoma!

This reminded me of a story about the great Agnes De Mille,  She was an extraordinary choreographer.  She was also funny and full of herself. 

For the play and later the movie, Oklahoma!, she choreographed the Dream Ballet that appeared in the middle of the story.  The first half of Oklahoma is a lighthearted story of a girl trying to decide which boy to invite to a picnic.  The second half is dark and scary.

The Dream Ballet seamlessly accomplished the transition.  De Mille did this for many famous musicals of that era. 

The play, Oklahoma! first appeared on Broadway in the early1940s.  It was the quintessential story of America at the turn of the century.   In an interview with her friend, Sylvia Fine, De Mille said that service men, on their way to Europe during World War II, sat in the back rows, many of them with tears streaming down their faces. Oklahoma symbolized "home."

But the most amazing thing De Mille said in the interview was this: London, beginning in the late 1930s, was blitzed by the Nazis.  The theater district, along with many other areas, was totally destroyed.

In 1947,  after the war ended and great Theatre Royal Drury Lane was repaired, Oklahoma! was the first of post-war wave of Broadway musicals to reach London's West End.  It received rave reviews and sellout houses, running for 1,543 performances. 

But the first night, when audience members were dressed to the gills, to watch this quintessential American play, they chose to thank America.  After the performance the entire audience linked arms and sang the entire score back to the cast.  

We know we belong to the land, and the land we belong to is grand.

***

Mad Girl's Love Song

 

My very first favorite poet was Slyvia Plath.  And, of all her poems, Mad Girl's Love Song is my favorite.  

My friend, Trish, does abstract art.  Sometimes I see things in her work that aren't, in her mind, there.

Art is like that. 

The first time I read Mad Girl's Love Song, probably in the 60s, it said things to me that Plath wasn't necessarily saying to the world.  A few days ago someone put the poem on Facebook, relating to our current situation. 

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;        I lift my lids and all is born again.     (I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,    And arbitrary blackness gallops in:    I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

Plath's speaker is dealing with themes of mental illness, love and the power of imagination.  She's both euphoric and despairing. 

Bingo!

I am a life long insomniac.  But now, due to meds and lifestyle I, for the most part, sleep well and have good dreams.  Hence, I love the phrase "I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead."

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:    Exit seraphim and Satan's men:    I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 

I fancied you'd return the way you said,    But I grow  old and forget your name.    (I think I made you up inside my head.)

Yes, I feel that way about a special someone, but I feel heartache about so very many loved ones, alive and dead.  Again, I'm grateful that I can close my eyes at night and have sweat dreams. 

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;    At least when spring comes they roar back again,    I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.    (I think I made you up inside my head.)

***

Trader Joe's Bonkers Parking Lot

 

If you think you're the only one who goes insane in a Trader Joe's parking lot, think again.  The tiny parking lot is their thing. 

 I I buy one item at Trader Joe's.  Charles Shaw Chardonnay.  Or "Two Buck Chuck."  It's now over five dollars a bottle but still a fantastic buy and the only wine that doesn't have the potential to make me sick.  So, thumbs up on both counts.  Right?

Well, not exactly.  I went to to get my six months supply on Monday but after 30 minutes I gave up on finding a parking place.  The lot was super jammed because it was Veterans Day.  

Everything Trader Joe's does is purposeful and consistent in every store..  That includes small parking lots in dense areas.  Also they don't sell their products on line.  Period.  Their unique brands, like the most popular this year, Chili and Lime Flavored Rolled Corn Tortilla Chips, can be found only by navigating the tiny lot.  

Before we had a Trader Joe's in Winter Park, Florida, I shopped at the one in my then boyfriend David's city, Edina, Minnesota.  It was much the same.  Only they had parking attendants.  This looked like a life or death job for sure.

I'm thinking all Trader Joe's employees are home schooled.  Despite all the chaos in the parking lot and inside the store it's self, they are cheerful, helpful and a tiny bit condescending.  Absolutely nothing throws them. 

I live in Central Florida, one of the entertainment capitals of the world.  I lived here prior to Disney.  But two of the most highly anticipated brands to hit our area have been Trader Joe's and Ikea. 

I went back on Tuesday and got the job done. 

***

Solice

 A little criticism makes me angry and a little rejection makes me depressed.  A little praise raises my spirits, and a little success excites me.  It takes very little to raise me up or thrust me down. 

Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son

In my last post I referred to Pastor Philip's comments about how this parable might have ended differently.  It empowered me and gave me solace in this particularly terrifying time in our history. 

Years ago I was part of a study using Henri Nouwen's book, The Return of the Prodigal Son.  In the quote above, Nouwen is being brutally honest about his inner issues.  

While I can't fully relate to the quote above, I can relate to, along with everything else, having overwhelming feelings of existential anxiety.  

Henri Nouwen was one of our greatest Christian writers.  Particularly, I think, because he was brutally honest about himself.  By doing this, he helped all of us.  (He wrote The Wounded Healer.)  

In the study, we learned that, at a time when Nouwen was feeling particularly down, he visited the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia, where he saw Rembrandt's most famous painting.  He was stunned by its majestic beauty.  He spent more than four hours with the painting that day.  And went back the next day. 

It was a healing experience. 

In 2012, this amazing thing happened to me.  David and I went to St. Petersburg and saw the painting. Since the Hermitage has the largest collection of paintings in the world,  I wondered if we'd even get to it. But we did.  While I didn't feel quite what Nouwen did, I was deeply moved and felt  empowered.  

I want to be like the Father. 

Not only do some art scholars consider Rembrandt's The Return of the Prodigal Son to be the greatest picture ever painted, most biblical scholars consider The Return of the Prodigal Son to be Jesus' greatest parable. 

***

When We All Get to Heaven

 My husband, Ken, died in 2004.  His funeral (or celebration of life) was jam packed with all kinds of people, from church, political and community leaders to street people.  He was a bridge builder for sure.  

In planning the service we chose traditional mainstream hymns.  And there were bagpipes.  But, for the final hymn, I chose the rousing old timey "When We All Get to Heaven."  

Fast forward to this past Sunday morning.  I now watch the church service on my big screen TV.  Pastor Philip preached.  But he was preceded by Pastor David who shared his own feelings of stress about the up coming election...... that some say is the most consequential election our country has ever faced.  

I did not want to deal with this.  Have you ever seen a therapist who ended up telling you all about his or her on issues.  This is how it felt.  I wanted to to turn off the TV.  

But I didn't. 

Prior to the sermon, Pastor Philip told us about a Christian Political Dialog, comprised of church members who were on both sides of the upcoming election.  He showed us a short video of the discussion.  I recognized a close friend in this group.

It took me a while to admit to myself how important this was, even though I was very uncomfortable.  But, with a congregation of several hundred people, it's only right that all voices need to be heard and respected. 

And Pastor David, was right in expressing his own stress, thereby helping us remember we're all in the same boat.  (Even though I felt like turning the TV off and crawling under my bed.)

Later, Pastor Philip preached on Luke 15, the story of the Prodigal Son.  I know this story inside out, as many people do.  But Philip painted a picture at the end that I had never before envisioned.

Remember the older son in the story who was angry because he stayed home and kept his nose clean but his dad never threw him a party?  Philip asked us to envision that, instead, the older son was standing on the porch with his dad, BOTH of them cheering for and embracing the Prodigal. 

I loved that image!  Do I feel less stressful about the upcoming election?  Nope.  But I do know we have to all find a way to live together after the election. 

And I loved Philip's image of reconciliation for all kinds of reasons. 

When we all get to heaven what a day of rejoicing that will be!  When we all see Jesus we will sing and shout with victory. 

***

You can find the October 20th service and a clip of Christian Political Dialog on YouTube at FUMCWP.