Escape

Winter Retreat

Jeanna GLeave a comment

Back in middle and high school, my church youth group took an annual trip to Camp Squanto in New Hampshire for a Winter Retreat. The recent weather impacts across the country have me thinking an awful lot about that trip. You see, growing up in the Northeast, we expect bad winter weather so much, that it’s never really bad, because we’re prepared. We can appreciate and enjoy the beauty of snow because, for one thing, when it arrives, it sticks around for awhile. Secondly, we know how to manage it efficiently, leaving time for play. So regardless of the weather, we’d still make the trip further north to camp, where we’d retreat from the stress of school, and play with our friends in the seclusion and serenity of a Winter Wonderland.

In the north there were 10’ snow banks on which we were kings. Sledding hills were covered in enough snow to ensure a smooth ride and cushion at the bottom. We would build snow forts, dig tunnel mazes, and have massive snowball fights. We could snow shoe and cross-country ski our way to the store. And the ice actually froze thick enough that we could fish, skate, or play hockey without worrying (too much!) about falling through.

Snow much fun!

One of my favorites memories of the Winter Retreat was playing Broom Hockey. We’d sweep off the outline of a large square on the surface of the lake. Everyone had a broom, and there was one ball. The game was won when one of the teams swept the ball all the way around the square one time. Sounds easy enough until you consider that everyone is slipping in their winter boots, and the other team is trying to steal the ball and move it in the opposite direction around the square. The games would go on late into the night. Then we’d tiptoe into the Dining Hall and warm up with hot cocoa before collapsing into bed.

I have so many sweet memories of the beauty and fun of my childhood winters, that living in the south in the winter leaves me feeling rather rueful. The winters down here are cold with little to no snow. Lately we’ve had rain, freezing rain, ice, and more rain; not much to enjoy about that. Ironically, when most people move south to retreat from winter, I’d rather retreat to winter!

Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler!

Jeanna G1 Comment

It’s Marci Gras! I did my part to make sure Fat Tuesday lived up to its name by making and eating an absurd amount of gumbo and cornbread. I’ve never been to the Mardi Gras festival, but I have been to New Orleans, and our hotel was right on Bourbon Street, and we visited the Mardi Gras museum to see the floats. I was also traveling with my 7-year-old at the time, so I had to be somewhat prudent. Anyhow, I was watching the news this morning about New Orleans and how there is no parade because of Covid, but houses and yards are decorated to the nines. One interviewee said, “The parade may be cancelled, but the spirit of Marci Gras cannot!” And that is when I got teary-eyed.

I don’t know about you, but I hope post-Covid celebrations rush in like someone opened the floodgates. Potential memories are being stolen from us. Sweet memories of passing out cupcakes on your birthday or Valentines to your classmates were erased like a chalkboard this past year. Dancing like nobody’s watching on a crowded amphitheater lawn is only a hallucination. Singing the school fight song with 109,000 other fans in the university stadium must have been a figment of my imagination. Hugging and holding hands? Only in our wildest dreams. Festivals, reunions, and play dates are all fictional chapters of our now boring lives. Gosh, I even fantasize about struggling to get the bartender’s attention during happy hour!

I hope when we become a herd again, we become immune to boredom. I hope we flock together and have a parade. A day of parades all over the world with singing and dancing, and everyone has a seat together at the grandstand with a perfect view of the spectacle. But the timing of these Mardi Gras celebrations will be reversed, because we’ve been abstaining for too long, as if we’d given up togetherness for lent. It’s time for the spirit of Mardi Gras that has been hibernating in our hearts to wake up, take a real good stretch, and let the good times roll!

Auld Lang Syne

Jeanna G1 Comment

2020. A year described by many as the following: A dumpster fire, shit show, kerfuffle, nightmare come true, omnishambles, hullabaloo, all hell broken loose, catastrophe, three ring circus, royal fuck up, comedy of errors, bizarre, unrivaled, hellacious, apocalyptic, calamity, and a world turned upside down.

WHO reports that, as I write this, over 74 million people have contracted the virus worldwide. I read in the Wall Street Journal that a quarter of all US jobs were disrupted as a result of the pandemic. The election divided us. Racial inequities lead to murders and riots. Fires and storms wreaked havoc on and devastated our habitats. Our ways of living, communicating, and interacting have all been upended and recreated. It’s not surprising that there has been a collective yearning for 2020, and all that came with it, to end and to never be thought of again.

But should old times be forgot and never brought to mind?

Uncertainty, worry, and feeling useless all took their toll and caused depression, an old acquaintance of mine, to rear its ugly head. But as time has shown, I’m a survivor who does not relish in pity parties. I also can’t be idle, no matter how often I think I ought to give it a try.

And so I move. And I do. And I retrain my brain to think positively and make the best of a situation. And that takes work. And it’s because of that energy and movement that, despite the headlines, I am grateful for this year.

This year has gifted me with the time and permission to think. I mean really think. Like not just about what I have to do that day, but go deep into the recesses of my brain and think about all of the things I usually don’t have the time or energy to think about. And there is a lot of stuff in there! I wrote some of it down in this blog, which I’m happy to have had the time to create this year. Other thoughts I wrote in the journal I’ve been keeping for my daughter since I was pregnant. Others I shared with my friends, because they also had time to just sit and think and ponder life with me. And some I just shared with God, because at the end of the day it’s just me and Him, and I can’t fool either one of us. I wonder if having and spending all of this time thinking is how the Ancient Greek philosophers felt in their day-to-day lives.

For the last few years, life was moving so quickly, and I didn’t feel like I could keep up at times. This year, time seemed to slow. I had time to play with my daughter. Time to try new things. Time to reintroduce old things. Time to contemplate and assess where I had been, where I was, and where I was going. And it has all made me feel a lot better about life. What began as a joke between friends became the mantra “We Are Here,” which we now repeat at our get-togethers. There’s something to be said for living in the moment. And so in 2021, as life starts to speed up again, my resolution is to make it a point to slow down and make time for the important stuff that, for reasons I still need to think about, I had put on the back burner.

And so 2020, for auld lang syne my dear, I’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.