Knuckle Down

We had just finished a rehearsal last Thursday evening when my friend noticed a missed call from Collin. That’s odd, I wondered, he knows we’re practicing. Mike called Collin and handed the phone to me. Hi, Mom, my son calmly said. Hey, we’re up in ER, Dad just cut his finger off. But he’s OK. It’s not life-threatening.

My husband Curt is a task-oriented man. So if it’s raining, and the lawn needs mowing, he mows the lawn in the rain. April 11, 2019: first mowing of the season. He had the grass-catcher on and was dumping the clippings onto our garden. Sometimes the tube would clog up with wet grass. He would reach in and grab a clump to clear the passageway.

As he got to the last few rows, my wise and capable man did something very foolish. His mind became disengaged. There’s no logical explanation. The clods became a challenge. As if he were emptying the washing machine, he just kept reaching in and grabbing grass. He didn’t register that the engine was still running. Until the blades grabbed his finger.


The first thing he felt was disappointment with himself for doing something so dumb. One moment can change everything. Pain propelled him to the hospital.


Wedding band blues

The ER staff were fantastic. They’ve seen mangled. They’ve seen gore. Actually there wasn’t much blood, because Curt has Raynaud Syndrome, where blood doesn’t flow to his fingers when the temperature is cold. Who knew there was a benefit from Raynaud’s? He lost the top section of his ring finger. Reattachment wasn’t an option.

As soon as our older sons knew their dad was OK, they began the banter.
We’re crossing our fingers for you!
Hang loose!
Give Dad a high 4.5 for me!
Matthew 5:30!

Curt has a few quips of his own. He answers the phone with Stumpy’s Lawn Service. He told a friend that he felt a kinship with John the Baptist. How so? He must increase and I must decrease.

It’s not all beer and skittles. Spontaneous amputation involves pain. But incisive humor, a large fund of humility, and an inclination to be thankful can provide relief, analgesics with no side effects. I can still see Curt shaking hands (using his right hand) with the staff that stitched him up before we left ER.

Dear reader, bear with me. This is a cautionary tale. When I am training employees in my job I have a mantra: You can never go on autopilot. Think! Engage! Attend! Notice! Stay awake! Turn off the engine!


P.S. In a wry intersection with my reading life, I just finished Abraham Verghese’s novel, Cutting for Stone. Chapter 2, The Missing Finger, relates the story of a surgeon amputating his own index finger when it became swollen and infected after a surgical nick.

My Reading Rodeo – 2018


In 2017 (which still feels like last year, but technically isn’t) I joined a Facebook group and read through all of Shakespeare. It involved about five hours a week; I told myself this was continuing education. In 2018 I wanted to continue deep-reading, but without the pressure of all of [insert author’s name] in one year.


Thus began my C.S. Lewis Reading Project. I’m reading through his published works at the rate of about fifty pages a week. I’ll admit it: my motivation flagged when I hit some hard spots (his early poetry, for one). But I’ve been promising myself that I’d reread The Space Trilogy (which I’ve been a stranger to since high school) and this year I’m happy I did.

Read with Me
Some local friends and I have been talking about starting a book club, but we’ve not unwrapped that package yet. Besides CSL (which I’m reading with some Facebook friends) the Close Reads podcast has been a continual feast. Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory , the story of a whiskey priest in Mexico, was satisfying on many levels.


Because they have four more hours in the day than the rest of us, the people at Close Reads started another podcast called The Play’s The Thing. I l-o-v-e the concept of reading through Shakespeare’s canon, one act at a time.

My friend Mary Jo Tate guides a burgeoning group of readers through Jan Karon’s Mitford books on Facebook. We just read Shepherds Abiding at Christmas.

This Is Your Life
Biographies and memoirs, old and new, are always a staple in my reading diet. I read the final six of a twenty volume set, Makers of History. Tara Westover’s Educated was a stunner. And 2018 was the year I made it through a 1K marathon of a book, Martin Gilbert’s Churchill. My favorite memoir was Hannah Grieser’s The Clouds Ye So Much Dread.

Soo-prize, SOO-PRIZE!!
Oh, yes, books surprised me. Nina Teicholtz’s The Big Fat Surprise is in the category of game-changer. Oh. boy. Not only are saturated fats good for you (?!!) but vegetable oils like safflower, canola, and corn oil have been around less than a hundred years and are pretty much guaranteed to make you sick.

Barbara Tuchman wrote about Stilwell and the American Experience in China, and I bet you’ve never heard of this general. He would have been the Allied Surpreme Commander, Eisenhower’s role, except that he knew the language, the people, and the geography of China better than anyone in the armed forces.

I spend a day a week with my four local grandkids. Of course, I read books aloud whenever I can: while they eat lunch, practice handwriting, sculpt playdough, etc. We read through Andrew Peterson’s tetralogy, The Wingfeather Saga. Wow oh Wow oh WOW! I’ve never known them to be so captured by a story.

Health and Diet
For a reason I cannot fathom, it is like a switch turned on this year and I started to really care about my health. This is potentially the most boring paragraph in this blog post, so I will give each book one word: Fasting, diabetes, sugar, cancer, and brain health.

Favorite Authors
I managed to read at least one title of Anthony Trollope, P.G. Wodehouse, Wallace Stegner, Wendell Berry, and Barbara Tuchman. Good stuff!

Hillbilly Elegy


I finished J.D. Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy a week ago; the thoughts it has triggered refuse to settle down and go to sleep. Like a child’s insistent request for a drink, they clamor for my attention.

The title is brilliant, combining assonance with alliteration. Good mouthfeel.

I applaud Vance for his sympathetic description of his hillbilly heritage, defining deficits but not belittling its benefits. I cringed at his candid assessment of his drug-addicted mom. It brought to mind Pat Conroy’s dilemma of writing about family flaws. J.D. shows deep gratitude to his grandparents, Mamaw and Papaw, who raised him. Mamaw’s mouth reminds me of a friend who calls her child that little sh*t as a term of endearment. I can’t recall reading a book with more casual f-bombs. True hillbilly flavor?

…hillbillies learn from an early age to deal with uncomfortable truths by avoiding them, or by pretending better truths exist. This tendency might make for psychological resilience, but it also makes it hard for Appalachians to look at themselves honestly.

Vance’s story captured my interest when he was navigating the social world of Yale Law School. That, and his understanding of how he brought his  A.C.E. (adverse childhood experiences) with him into his marriage.

J.D.’s girlfriend called him a turtle: Whenever something bad happens — even a hint of disagreement — you withdraw completely. This echoes my own deep groove, a pattern I had of shutting down instead of working through conflict.  It took a patient and persistent spouse to let go of the fear and learn how to have a good quarrel.

While he outlines the struggles of the white working class, this isn’t a policy book that proposes solutions. But a better understanding of the problems is a beginning.

postscript –  I read Hillbilly Elegy  while the Chicago Cubs were fighting their way to the World Series. They brought up designated hitter Kyle Schwarber. (That’s a great story, too.) I discovered that Schwarber and Vance both grew up in Middletown, OH. I wonder about other similarities.

Come Rain or Come Shine, the Song

I finished Jan Karon’s newest book last night. It undid me. Seriously. I started crying on page 32 and sniffed and sobbed my way through the rest of the book. I loved it. But that is another blog post.

The first thing I wanted to write (in that other post) was how helpful it is to listen to the song Come Rain or Come Shine. Ten years ago I made a slide show for Curt’s Dad and Mom’s 50th anniversary, using Eric Clapton and B.B. King’s version as heard on Riding With the King— a CD which is right up there with A Vaughan Williams Hymnal , Eva Cassidy’s Songbird, Glorious Pipes Organ Music, and Ashley Cleveland’s God Don’t Never Change in my list of favorite albums.

So. In the slide show I matched photos to the lyrics: a picture of Mom and Dad with a mountain in the background when B.B. sings ♪♫♪ high as a mountain ♪♫♪ and Dad in the boat on the Snake River when the King sings ♫♪♫ deep as a river ♫♪♫. I own this song.

Before I could write you must listen to this song and make sure you listen to the B.B. King/Eric Clapton version, I would need to evaluate other covers. You, too, can listen to this song over and over (I stopped counting at 142): just type ‘come rain or come shine’ on the search engine in Spotify.

This song clearly demonstrates the difference between orchestra and band, how the style varies with the instruments, stringed, brass, or woodwinds.

DSC_0409My conclusion: listen to B.B. King and Eric Clapton.

My favorites
— B.B. King and Eric Clapton, Riding with the King (perfection)
— Barbara Streisand and John Mayer, Partners. (same arrangement as BB/EC, I liked the male/female take, a big production, a big YES)
— Willie Nelson, American Classic (Willie brings it! His voice is well-suited for this song. The arrangement is inspired. It’s on repeat.)

Female vocals
— Natalie Cole, Still Unforgettable (clean, upbeat, pure notes, normally I prefer a slower tempo, but gracious, girl’s got pipes, fun cover)
— Etta James, Love Songs, (classic EJ, she sings “unhappy” with conviction)
— Norah Jones, Wynton Marsalis, Here We Go Again (breathy, good blend)
— Robin McKelle (sultry, lots of muted trumpet, brass background, her voice holds up with some sweet high notes)
— Monica Zetterlund, Waltz for Debby (unconvinced until 0:55, then YES)
— Sarah Vaughan, Sarah Vaughan in Hi-Fi (unadorned vocals, vibrato much, weird end)
— Rosemary Clooney, Jazz Singer (too fast, no nuance)
— Billie Holiday, Love Songs (too nasal, it’s all Billie, but Billie didn’t excel, sigh)

Male vocals
— Frank Sinatra, Ultimate Sinatra (he breathes life into the words, wonder-full)
— Ray Charles, The Genius of Ray Charles  (Ray was great; background oohs were uninspired, not of fan of this slow tempo)
— Jamie Cullum, Interlude (methinks he’s trying too hard)

— David Hazeltine, The New Classic Trio  (jazz trio, wandering, quiet, understated)
— Bill Evans Trio, Portrait in Jazz (piano-centric,
— Beegie Adair, Jazz Romance (elevator music, easy listening station)
— Art Blakey, Moanin’ (upbeat, loud, punchy, and maybe bumpy)

Most hideous:
— Judy Garland, The Essential Capital Collection (the tempo, the pitch, the everything…all. wrong.)
— Chet Baker, Embraceable You (flat, insipid, vacant, absent)