An Unceremonious Thing

We started a fire in the pagoda yesterday. It was snowing. The fire was in the wood stove. The pagoda is an outbuilding perched on a hill by our house. “Pagoda” is the name it came with. It was delivered seven years ago by a Mennonite couple driving a truck backward down a steep hill on a road that was not a road until my partner spent three “Fitzcarraldo”-like days with a chainsaw because he had a vision of where it should be situated, what the views should be.

This is funny to me because the pagoda’s windows have been covered with plastic since we got it. We stapled plastic over the screens to keep it warm until we get the real windows in. You can’t see out of them. It’s also funny because the original function of this building was a railroad switchhouse—seeing out of its windows would ostensibly have been a crucial component. Though all I could see yesterday was clouded plastic, I know there is a view because I’ve seen it before.

I was in the pagoda because it was snowing and I wanted to heap quiet on me like a blanket. The first time I spent time in the pagoda was back in February 2020 (lol, remember that penultimate month in time?). Quite ceremoniously, I printed a draft of the manuscript I was working on and brought it up there. I listened to Caroline Shaw and cut words from the manuscript, thinking I was about to win. Since then, I’ve revised my goals and intentions. Today is the first time I’ve touched that manuscript since that March, in preparation to read an excerpt at an open mic. It has aged, I have aged, I’m trying to figure out what’s worth returning to, if anything.

I didn’t do anything ceremonious in the pagoda yesterday. I sat near the fire and talked to my sister-in-law. It didn’t get warm in the pagoda until an hour or more had passed. I knew it was warm because mice with glossy black eyeballs as round and large as marbles started coming to see what was making the place so cozy all of a sudden, after so many months—a year, maybe—without activity. I abandoned ship after they began scampering across the rafters, afraid they’d land in my hair.

A Ceremonious Thing

A few nights ago, Chris and I went to the American Legion in Belfast for a celebratory beer—we “successfully” completed all 25 conversations between strangers for StoryCorps’ One Small Step project, through WERU Community Radio.

Here are some ways that the project felt at times:

In the end, this is the picture my phone produced after I fed a bunch of prompts into it to explore how I really felt about the whole thing and it was this, is this:

Which is to say: if you connect two microphones, you can grow a plant.

More reflections on all things One Small Step are coming soon, including a live show on WERU 89.9 FM on Wednesday, January 31 at 4 p.m. (participants will be calling in, you can call in, we will talk and play some of our favorite moments from the conversations), a landing page on the WERU website where you can listen to all the conversations, a potential listening event in Belfast, and an audio feature.

These additional activities are made possible through the generosity of WERU and its mighty community—thank you!

What happens next in my professional world remains to be seen but I believe in the view. If you want to work together, drop me a line. I’m excited about:

community building | oral history | community projects that incorporate storytelling | mission-driven projects | writing | research | the hyper-local | work that moves beyond assumptions | connecting with unlikely suspects | restorative practices | culture | place | accountability | resilience | skill-sharing | audio storytelling | sound | interviews | conversations | archiving | bringing people together | making things happen

New Work in the World

My story “Thrifters’ Paradise” is in the January 2024 issue of Down East.

It’s about a 71-year-old woman with long wavy hair named Linda whose house by the river is jam-packed with fancy vintage (and antique) clothing and costumes. It’s about early-onset Alzheimers’, which Linda has (as her mother did before her). It’s also about Linda’s relationship with Cara Oleksyk, of Red Rabbit Bazaar, who led me to this story.

You can get your copy of the magazine here. (It’s not online yet.)

Housekeeping

“Besides”

The abovementioned piece contains part of the much more sinuous nest of a thing I want to write. As a freelancer, I often follow a lead on a story because of my own curiosity. Sometimes, you pitch a story to a magazine, (if you’re lucky) it gets accepted, and by the time the piece comes out, you blink and try to recall its genesis while visions of quality of life, money, art, meaning, and impact clang around in your head.1

I’m starting an offshoot of this newsletter, called “Besides” for when I have more story to share than what fits into this newsletter form (or into a published story itself).

If you are subscribed to “hells bells”, you’ll automatically be subscribed to “Besides”. But, I believe you can also unsubscribe from either publication (or even both!)2

Anyway, subscribe to “Besides” if you want to read more about Linda, Cara, and Nathalie Erickson, a saint of the town where I grew up who also collected vintage costumes, circular economies, escapes from nursing homes, and Kathryn Hepburn. I’ll also share the link to the story when it goes live on the Down East Magazine website.

Posts a la “Besides” will be similar to:

·      Provenance: 48 Hours in Bethel/Hanover/Newry *Rotter Edition* — my travelogue/critique of a family vacation in western “Maine”

·      Great Boots to Wear on Bridges While Exploring Rabbit Holes — I was just trying to tell you that I wrote a story about a restaurant in my hometown (East of Suez, in Wolfeboro, NH) and went deep on the history, finding myself in strange places.

·      2023’s breakout hit: And Wilhelm Reich on the Wurlitzer3

Meanwhile, “hells bells”4 will stick to updates and musings about this or that. A potpourri, if you will. 😬5

Referrals

I’m testing a new Substack tool—referrals.

Where the Money Went

Maybe you already know that I donate 10% of my writing-related profits.

I’ve done the math for 2023 but I’d love your input on where to donate it. Whether you are a paid subscriber, free subscriber, or someone who reads this without being subscribed, I’m all ears. Post a comment below, heart an existing suggestion, or send me a note with your ideas.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for supporting my work and encouraging me.

Currents

🎧 Julia Gets Wise (Julia Louis-Dreyfus talks to older women) — especially her conversations with Jane Fonda, Isabelle Allende, and Fran Leibowitz

🎷 Alabaster Deplume —who knew I loved the saxophone so much?

🎤 Talk Easy with Sam Fragoso’s recent conversation with David Remnick: ‘There’s No Time to Despair’

🔦 My One Small Stop collaborator, Chris Battaglia, has officially moved into an accessible space in downtown Belfast. Check him out at Torchlight, between the Rockweed Center6 and Observatory. He is doing good things—and, is soliciting donations of furniture/computers/etc. to furnish workstations for the students he’s mentoring.

Thank you for reading!