This has nothing to do with libraries.

Parkers at Purple Stride Chicago 2010

I know I said I was going to stop posting non-library stuff here. But. I'm not. Because I'm posting this.

Come and be a part of Purple Stride Milwaukee with us! It is June 4, 2011, and we are so excited to celebrate with all of you and remember my dad. We are so so excited. Please join us. Donate or join the team by going here.

Moving (on, forward, away)

Hello blog world. It has been so, so long. I've sort of abandoned this project. It started when I was in a different place in my life, figuratively, literally, emotionally, etc. I will continue to write here once in awhile. I don't harbor any illusions that this blog is going to make me ultra famous in Library Land, and I know (through the power of Google Analytics) that pretty much everyone who reads this thing is a friend or relative of mine. It's useful as a place to push around ideas, and I guess it doesn't matter if it is widely read or read at all.

That said, 2010 is drawing to a close. We have less than a week to go of the worst year ever, and I am just hoping to get through it without any more illnesses, accidents, or deaths. There has been a lot of sadness, pain, disappointment, and despair this year. There has also been a lot of love and support. Unfortunately, at this point all the "good things" were connected to something so terrible that it kind of dims the brightness. For example, a community rich with kindness, support, friendship and love appeared to take care of my dad and our family, but it was connected to my dad's cancer and death. Would trade all those outpourings of love for him. I got a job, but it involves living in a town I don't like, alone, with NO friends and away from my bf. Financial security, yes. Loneliness, anxiety, depression, and paranoia? Would trade the cash for some friends close by and a sense of community. Really.

The one truly good thing, that has no "bad" side attached, is my cat, Winston. In July he came home with me and has since provided more love than I can express. He has become my best friend. Today I came to my apartment, sat in a chair and he curled up in my arms, just like a baby. I feel for him the way I imagine people feel about a child. It was just what I needed.

So, after a lot of thought, I'm moving on. I'm moving forward to a new year. Things will be better, because I will MAKE them better. In 2010, things happened and I reacted. In 2011, I am going to DO things. Even if those decisions aren't the most "rational" (ie, move again! Get a different job, even though I love mine, so that I can have friends again and live someplace where I am happy!) it will be for the best. Life is short, and hard, and often quite brutal, but it also can be beautiful and sweet and fun. I want to laugh more. Part of that is moving these sorts of thoughts into a new space. This will still be updated once and again, but I'm going to put more energy into a new project I'm doing with an amazing friend. Look for casualdecadence.com to be up sometime in 2011.

Thanks for listening. Now go hug someone. I guarantee they need it.

The Importance of the Tangible

I spend inordinate amounts of time on a computer. I use a computer all day at work, and yet I often check my email and Facebook within an hour of getting back to my apartment. In many ways, my life revolves around technology. It allows me to connect with my family and friends, none of whom live within 60 miles of where I currently reside. However, after a recent loss in my family, I have had a hard time using various technologies (mostly the telephone) to communicate. Writing and reading are important parts of processing grief. Having an object to hang onto--in every sense of the word-- can make a real difference for some people when dealing with such intense emotions.

Something that I was not aware of, but have just learned about, is mourning stationary. In the past two months, I have yearned for the Victorian era and its rigid code of mourning. To have such ritual to help one process grief seems so much easier. A part of this was mourning stationary. Instead of explaining this, I'll ask you to hop over to Felt & Wire and read about it there.

I wholeheartedly agree that such tangible expressions of grief and mourning are helpful. At such dark times in ones life, it helps to have any help in conveying your emotions and I think stationary can do that. Despite all the technology in my life, all the options I have for communicating, I am finding that the written word, on a solid, thick piece of paper covered in dark ink from a fine pen, is the best way to truly express myself.

So, send letters. I promise to write back.

photo source

PS. My family did receive those pre-pressed thank you cards from the funeral home. They were a blessing, as it alleviated the stress of what to write. They are rather impersonal, but they do the job. And I still have, and always will, each sympathy card I received--Hallmark or personal. They are each a small token of love and support. Thank you, all of you. See, tangible things matter.

A Reader for Life

Who made you a reader? For me it was my dad. A love of reading is one of the best gifts he has ever given me. Thanks Dad. I love you.

And now for something completely different

Dad, me, Noah, June 2009

Late last night, I got a call from my father. He has been battling pancreatic cancer for 4 months. In the past four months, we've seen amazing kindness and compassion from our entire community. His phone call concerned a touching article detailing one of those many acts of kindness. Please click over to Marquette Hoops. Thank you to Jim Ganzer, Buzz Williams, and the entire Marquette team. You could not have bestowed your kindness and faith on a more grateful person or family. Ring out Ahoya!


For more information on pancreatic cancer, please visit the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network