Commonplacing

Thomas Jefferson liked to spend time alone, reading and taking notes on what he read. He called it "commonplacing". I had never heard the term before so when I looked it up saw that it referred to copying passages or quotes from things you're reading and a commonplace book would be a notebook that you wrote them in.

I've been doing this for years but didn't know it had a name other than "oh, I better write this down so I don't forget it". As I've been cleaning the attic this weekend I've found some old notebooks and folders with bits and pieces of commonplacing in them. I definately tended toward the religious and absolute when I was younger. I'm not sure how I would characterize what I copy down now.

The Ipad and computers keep teasing with apps and programs that will lift and save the quote or text for you but I haven't really been able to do more than hightlight text yet. Regardless, I think the act of writing it down, copying the words and the author of the words, putting it side by side with the other jottings in my current commonplace book, is more satisfying, more real. It just feels good to write it down.

Now, Thomas Jefferson, when he was copying a passage, if he thought he could improve it, he would copy it with his changes included. I think you have to be Thomas Jefferson to get away with that.

Morale Booster.

I have a good job. Great supervisor, good co-workers, an employer that tries to do the right thing most often and clean, well lit, OSHA safe work conditions.

HOWEVER sometimes, I don't like my job so much and have to think of ways to make it tolerable.

I found a site on the internet that counts down the days to whatever you want so I have it counting down the days to retirement--5,390 as of today. I think that's only about fifteen years to go so you can see why that excites me.

We have a dead pool at work--nine of us have bet money ($5) on which famous people will die this year. It keeps us tuned in to the national news and puts a positive spin on cold and flu season.

And now I'm starting a new program to boost morale. Its called the Buck a F**k program. Everytime one of our clients or contacts swears at us we collect a buck. One day last week I earned four bucks. I haven't talked the powers that be into funding the program with real dollars yet but I just feel better knowing that I'm geting a little bonus for being cussed at.

Ok, enough whining. In 5390 days, all the people on my dead pool list might die and I'll be $45 richer from that and with my sunny personality, I will undoubtedly make a boatload of money on the Buck a F**k program--so I'll probably get to retire a month or two early. Hooray for me!!!!

Funerals--theirs and mine

Another visit to the funeral home tonight. I must be getting to that age. Its getting to be a regular thing. I'm not being flippant, its just something that I've noticed--especially when my daughter noted that she hadn't been to a funeral since her grandpa died a few years ago. It used to be something I could measure in years,, then months, now its every other month or so, and in a few years it will be monthly and then a few times a month and then who knows...

I've thought about my own funeral or memorial service--on my good days, I can even go along with calling it a celebration of life. Mostly I want good music, fun stories, and a few tears. But then, is it just me, or does everyone want to know that they are going to be missed.

That egotistical part of me wants wailing and keening and fighting over the ashes to alternate with laughing and vodka shots and pictures of all the fun my life has been. My kids can tell you all the lies I told them, John can tell you all the silly things I've been afraid of, friends can go on and on about how I always thought I was right no matter what the topic.

Living, dying, heaven, hell, other possibilities? Iris Dement, in her song, "Let the Mystery Be" says:

Everybody's wondering what and where they all come from
Everybody's worrying 'bout where they're gonna go
When the whole thing's done
Nobody knows for certain
And so it's all the same to me
I think I'll just let the mystery be.

Last night, at the bi-weekly Discussion on the Deck, which was mercifully moved inside due to the heat, the topic was heaven and hell. There were about 12-14 people present. I am fascinated by the variety of opinions. We were a pretty homogeneous group, all middle class, Midwesterners, all belonged to the same ELCA Lutheran church, all white, yet our thoughts on heaven and hell were different enough to keep us talking for a couple of hours.

Of course, we went off on a few tangents. People shared personal experiences, people listened, people encouraged each other and we laughed together. All in all, it was a good night. And it is exactly what will strengthen the faith community of First Lutheran. The topic was almost irrelevant.

I believe that worship is necessary, prayer essential and the churches that get their members interacting in small groups for whatever purpose--discussions, cooking, service projects, craft, study, softball etc., will find that those members will see their church as an integral part of their life--not just a Sunday morning obligation. It is the relationships.

oops!

I finished a posting that I had started in October of 2010 and clicked Publish Post--and the magic happened but the date stayed October--so look in October for the Ship of Fools for my most recent posting.

It is the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I actually started this last Sunday, with a different first sentence, of course. I've been thinking all week of things I'm thankful for. I don't want to overlook the major, really important things, like my family, friends, health, living in a peaceful neighborhood with money enough for my needs and most of my wants. These are truly important and I am deeply grateful for all of them.

However, I find myself being thankful too for some of the more mundane things in my life that don't often make it into my prayers of thanks. For example, when driving in lousy weather I am so thankful for having really good wiper blades and the white lines that are painted on the side of the road that let's us know where the edge is. I love, love, love having such a wide variety of music available through ITunes and Pandora and almost nothing makes me happier than listening to music while putzing around on the computer. The small pleasure of putting something warm on when I'm cold brings shivers of delight. Pizza cutter---went to Italy where they serve you a whole pizza uncut with no pizza cutter so I now have a new appreciation for the magic wheel.

Another thing that I'm thankful for is other people decorating their houses for Christmas (or any holiday) because they put in the effort for everyone to enjoy---and to me, it's never gaudy or garish or over the top. It's not an art exhibit--its like a child trying to put all their happy feelings about Christmas into one crayon drawing. Like the first grade artists, some people are just a bit more exuberant and some a bit more restrained. But either way, it's a lot of work, and they do it for everyone to enjoy and for that I'm thankful.

And I'm most truly grateful to the people who read this bog and keep encouraging me to write. Your kind words mean a lot to me.

What the heck?

math word problems
magnets
economics
plucking eyebrows and then drawing them on again
daylight savings time
people who aren't passing in the passing lane
E=mc2
computers/cell phones etc.
why Johnny Cash's birthday isn't a national holiday

There are so many things in life I don't understand. I try to take advantage of the information available out there about some topics, some I remember trying to learn about in school (a long time ago), some I think about again and again to no avail---there is just no bright light of understanding coming forth on certain things.

But other than the Johnny Cash National Holiday (well, and the slow driver's in the passing lane-but don't get me started) I don't really have to worry about these issues much. That's one of the nice things about not being a student. I was reminded of this when my daughter, a college student, sent this quote from one of her readings for Art History,

"...'art' will be best understood in its fullest sense as the instrumentality
or metalanguage of the museum's historiographical and psychical confabulations, as well as that confabulated world of objects itself."

What the heck? No wonder college kids drink.