While watching the store.
Back at my two day a week job at the West Side Market. Waiting for deliveries to come in - and customers. Christmas was good at the neighborhood market. People buying local jams, spices and candy for gift baskets. Kemmy's fresh pies flying out the door. Exotic cheeses and crackers.
I like the time I'm here. Couldn't ask for a better way to see people in the neighborhood. And meet new people. People with memories of the store from their childhood.
And I doubt there is better job to have at this time when I straddle the the line between being unemployed and semi-retired. There's an Indie bookstore in town that every woman covets to have a job when they retire. There are no men saying they want to work there because no man ever has. Don''t ask why, and don't say it's wrong. It just is. And sometimes in a small town, where the only bookstore is an independent bookstore, it doesn't matter.
A story for another day.
Last night was Christmas 3.0 - the gathering of the Tribe; the extended Godfamily of siblings ,spouses and good friends. Six close families.
I can see the gradual passage of my time on this planet most clearly at times like this. We gather through out the year, but only during an agreed week in the summer or at Christmas, when a day is chosen that matches the the time the most families can assemble , do we all see each other. Most of the children in our families are spread over a bell-like curve between 15 and 35 years old. All generations are passing through an hour glass of their own. It seems to move most quickly in the beginning years - and then in the end of days.
When the Godfamily reached an age of self awareness, we were in our mid twenties or early thirties. Our parents were still alive, some lived in this town, some were occasionally visitors on an annual pilgrimage to visit and see their children, and grandchildren in homes of their. I'm sure at one time or another, we all met each others parents.
But now, I believe all but three, maybe four, of our parents from the previous generation are still alive.
Our children, the next generation, those who could make it home this Christmas, are mostly in the middle of the bell curve. Twenty three to twenty five years old. There were only about eight of them at home this Christmas, a few shy of one third. And some of them had boy or girlfriend on their arm. And for some, it was their second Christmas with this extended Godfamily.
What I describe is nothing new, or all that unique. I think families like our; blood relatives and some some who are just as close, emerged when society went industrial. When migrations began to occur across Europe and then to America.
And the end result is a gracious mix, and a lot of cousins.
For the past three years we have forsaken a Christmas dinner and gift exchange for dessert, wine and "white elephant" gifts.
For me, I missed Caleb and Marjorie, now in DC. Debra and I drove back from Sacramento on December 27th: a three day visit to our oldest; Mira, her husband Javier and our two grandchildren, Bryn 2 and Liana turning 5.
Home at 4:00 pm, got the house warmed up and welcomed guests for Christmas 3.0.
I love family and being in the present moment with them the way we were last night. But boy, did I had nasty headache. Partly from the long drive home and partly from the Dark Cloud over my mind that is so-o-o hard to shake. Under normal circumstances, there might be talk about work at a family gathering. In these days, nobody wants to talk about their work, ("Is anybody having fun yet?") or my long term unemployment. It is the elephant in the living room. Not that people are avoiding an awkward truth or a family secret, people do not know what to say. ......
That said, in other situations, I do get asked about my work at the market. And I'm asked with the same interest that we ask somebody how work is. Not with pity, but very genuinely. I appreciate it when they do. It reveals to me a lot about that person.
All work is valuable. Simple as that.
mb
I like the time I'm here. Couldn't ask for a better way to see people in the neighborhood. And meet new people. People with memories of the store from their childhood.
And I doubt there is better job to have at this time when I straddle the the line between being unemployed and semi-retired. There's an Indie bookstore in town that every woman covets to have a job when they retire. There are no men saying they want to work there because no man ever has. Don''t ask why, and don't say it's wrong. It just is. And sometimes in a small town, where the only bookstore is an independent bookstore, it doesn't matter.
A story for another day.
Last night was Christmas 3.0 - the gathering of the Tribe; the extended Godfamily of siblings ,spouses and good friends. Six close families.
I can see the gradual passage of my time on this planet most clearly at times like this. We gather through out the year, but only during an agreed week in the summer or at Christmas, when a day is chosen that matches the the time the most families can assemble , do we all see each other. Most of the children in our families are spread over a bell-like curve between 15 and 35 years old. All generations are passing through an hour glass of their own. It seems to move most quickly in the beginning years - and then in the end of days.
When the Godfamily reached an age of self awareness, we were in our mid twenties or early thirties. Our parents were still alive, some lived in this town, some were occasionally visitors on an annual pilgrimage to visit and see their children, and grandchildren in homes of their. I'm sure at one time or another, we all met each others parents.
But now, I believe all but three, maybe four, of our parents from the previous generation are still alive.
Our children, the next generation, those who could make it home this Christmas, are mostly in the middle of the bell curve. Twenty three to twenty five years old. There were only about eight of them at home this Christmas, a few shy of one third. And some of them had boy or girlfriend on their arm. And for some, it was their second Christmas with this extended Godfamily.
What I describe is nothing new, or all that unique. I think families like our; blood relatives and some some who are just as close, emerged when society went industrial. When migrations began to occur across Europe and then to America.
And the end result is a gracious mix, and a lot of cousins.
For the past three years we have forsaken a Christmas dinner and gift exchange for dessert, wine and "white elephant" gifts.
For me, I missed Caleb and Marjorie, now in DC. Debra and I drove back from Sacramento on December 27th: a three day visit to our oldest; Mira, her husband Javier and our two grandchildren, Bryn 2 and Liana turning 5.
Home at 4:00 pm, got the house warmed up and welcomed guests for Christmas 3.0.
I love family and being in the present moment with them the way we were last night. But boy, did I had nasty headache. Partly from the long drive home and partly from the Dark Cloud over my mind that is so-o-o hard to shake. Under normal circumstances, there might be talk about work at a family gathering. In these days, nobody wants to talk about their work, ("Is anybody having fun yet?") or my long term unemployment. It is the elephant in the living room. Not that people are avoiding an awkward truth or a family secret, people do not know what to say. ......
That said, in other situations, I do get asked about my work at the market. And I'm asked with the same interest that we ask somebody how work is. Not with pity, but very genuinely. I appreciate it when they do. It reveals to me a lot about that person.
All work is valuable. Simple as that.
mb