with snow on the ground and visions of sugarplums and reindeer, late-at-night we would gather together on christmas eve in the neighborhood i grew up in. luminaria bags lined the streets, you could hear people caroling, children excitedly running around. my sweet momma and daddy held this tradition close each year, even bringing it forward a few of their first years in florida. back on long island we would walk around the block, singing, talking, debating white-lights-vs-multi-colored holiday lights, dreaming about what would be under the tree the next morning. it was magical and time was suspended. midnight seemed early after everyone’s late church service.
a few years ago, missing my sweet momma and poppo, holiday tradition with extended family and not always having my own children here to celebrate, i felt an emptiness and a yearning for something more. reaching into bright memories, i asked david if he would like to host a luminaria party, to start right here…on our street…with these sweet bags of sand and candles spaced on the sidewalks, a couple of firepits in the driveway (thanks to john and michele we have more than one firepit!), an abundance of wine and snacks on tables set up with christmas carols playing on a boombox. we invited our neighbors, friends, our church community. they stayed till a time-suspended-magical 2am and a tradition was born. this year is our fourth.
it starts at 10:45. you are welcome to come. just rsvp, bundle up and bring a beverage and snack to pass. come share in the magic of tradition…yet another wondrous thing.
WE live here. on this beautiful planet earth. we have inherited it from those before us and we will pass it on to those who live beyond us. it is our responsibility to leave it as-good-as or better than we received it. (my sweet momma’s teaching…in all things.)
OUR. responsibility. we cannot just take; we must give back. and, as in all things, the things we learn must be applied, even if it’s hard, even if it’s inconvenient, even if it costs us, even if it won’t directly benefit us but will, alas, benefit those beyond us; our work, our diligence, our values, our dedication, our respect will transcend us.
the first thing The Girl did the morning before she drove back to the high mountains was to put her personal stamp on her new vehicle IVY. she planned carefully where to place the two stickers on the far back passenger side window. the POW sticker – protect our winters – a cause she believes in. on their site, “Outdoor sports is a way for the public to understand the consequences of climate change, and what we stand to gain by stopping it, or lose by failing to. We all need winter.”
it’s bracing. the changes OUR beloved planet is experiencing. the changes in weather, the changes in resources, the changes, ultimately, in the way we will each live – all around the world. the questions of being able to grow ample food supply, have enough clean water, and sustain this – what is, by sheer comparison – tiny planet in the vastness of space.
i stood in the living room of the historic mining house My Girl lives in right in the middle of telluride, colorado and saw this poster on the wall. each of the renters in this house, directly or indirectly, depends on the health of the outdoors in these high mountains for their livelihood. who among us does not truly – when you trace all things back to their source – depend on the health of OUR environment? NO SIDES IN CLIMATE.
everything we do or don’t do will affect this good earth. who is it that said, “you don’t know what you have till you lose it”? we take for granted that for which we should have the simplest and deepest of gratitude.
OUR earth. were it not here, where would WE live? how would SIDES matter?
at 93 these words were texted by my sweet momma on her iphone, about a week before she died three years ago. she was amazing. and damn strong. “whoa!” i think, re-reading this text, “you go, momma!”
“…more than i say…more than i speak…more than you realize…” like every mom she walked the thin line between not saying enough and saying too much. The Girl and The Boy are practiced at rolling their eyes at me and, i guess, i must have done the same to my momma. so there’s that moment you dig in and, ignoring every quivering fibre in your body, you do not say anything. you notice, you think, you know. but you remain quiet. for you also know that the lives you have gifted into this world are not yours to live; they are only yours to love, to hold closest to your heart, to support in every way you can, to lift up when they stumble or fall.
“don’t. underestimate me.” so true, momma didn’t want to be under-estimated. her spirit in the world accomplished bigger things than most professions can tout. her kindness was rippling, her curiosity abounding, and her fortitude…that sisu. you don’t want to be the retail/corporate/organization recipient of the “write-a-lettuh” vindication; momma was going to win. she “wasn’t born in ny for nothin” as i say. the day after the extra surgery she had just one day after her double-mastectomy a few months before this text, she sat on the edge of her hospital bed and called us “idiots” for not getting back on the road home. she was going to be “just fine” and she was more worried about us on the road than herself. that’s a mom for you. that’s my sweet momma.
beaky dug in. she was engaged and big in the world. and her sisu made her powerful. she was wise even in silence. she knew, even if i didn’t tell her. like moms everywhere, she was tuned in, in ways that made her ever-present. i always counted on that. i still do. she is on the edges of this earth, where the wind carries her to me.
i can only hope that one day my own children realize that – no matter what – i am right there. i know more than i say. i think more than i speak. i notice more than they realize. and never, ever, underestimate me. because as their momma, i will go to the ends of the earth for them. just like my mom.
sisu. perseverance. fortitude. stamina. courage. determination. my grandmother mama dear used this finnish term all the time and passed it down to my sweet momma beaky who passed it down to me. a philosophy of life, a mantra, “you gotta have sisu!” mama dear would say. if up against the odds, if forging upstream, my sweet momma would say, “you gotta have sisu!” and so it was without a second thought when it was time to name my own company, the independent recording label that has been sisu music productions for the last 23 years. i can’t think of a better name for all the challenges that have risen – and continue to rise – as an independent artist.
any moment of fear, of uncertainty, brings me to draw on that sisu…digging in my heels and standing firmly in it. it’s kind of a blind faith and has everything to do with that. in the face of adversity, of the scales tilted not-in-your-favor, you just keep on. in the face of fear…everyone has their thing…the thing that makes them afraid…the thing that makes them white-knuckled…you just keep on. sisu.
i was flying back from telluride to denver a couple days ago – in a smaller plane. there was a big strapping guy all dressed in camouflage who got on the plane before me. he told the flight attendant he had been out in the middle of nowhere hunting (successfully) elk and mule deer. he was a rough and tumble kind of guy and ended up seated just across the aisle from me. when the plane hit turbulence, particularly over the front range, his face turned red and he looked over at me with a deer-in-the-headlights look and said, “i hate this part!!” i started talking to him then, trying to ease his obvious fear, talking about the wind currents and the mountains…how i could see the airport…we are almost there…just a teeny bit further…wheels are going to touch down any minute…. he was gripping the lock on the little tray table and finally relaxed his grip and smiled. everyone has their thing.
we can loan others the sisu we carry with us. we can bank on the sisu we carry with us. i often credit being-from-new-york for times i have just forged-ahead-anyway, but my sisu roots go way further back than that.
sisu. i stood back from the edge of a deep deep canyon the other day, my beautiful daughter on another boulder a few hundred yards away. i looked at the sky, the sunset playing over red rock. thought about that very moment in time, this moment i was sharing with the part of my heart known as kirsten…this moment that wouldn’t be repeated. and i heard the voice in my head, “you gotta have sisu.” i stepped to the very edge of the canyon, stretched out my arms and laughed aloud.
on this day, election day in the united states, i cannot think of a better antidote… er…aspiration than to embrace the upcoming world kindness day wholeheartedly, emphatically, honestly.
the mission of the world kindness movement and world kindness day is to create a kinder world by inspiring individuals and nations towards greater kindness.
the goal of the non-profit organization is “making kindness a greater part of everyone’s daily lives and increasing the awareness of the positive benefits of kindness to health and the overall well-being of society.”
“this day (world kindness day) aims to increase the value of kindness in society as well as increase the amount of kind acts that take place nationwide, making kindness a greater part of day to day life.”
i cannot help but think of my sweet momma as i write this. she didn’t need a celebratory calendar-day to pledge to be kind. she just was. she would be disheartened by our current state of affairs, determined to make a difference one little moment at a time, one kindness at a time. for as i look around, that is what is lacking. basic kindness. what i see in its place is ugly; anger and passionate division, fear and volatility, rudeness and a combative disrespect for humanity.
“on this day, participants attempt to make the world a better place by celebrating and promoting good deeds and pledging acts of kindness, either as individuals or as organizations.”
this tree. gnarly and twisted and wrinkly. it looks a little halloween-esque at dusk and could be downright scary in the dark of night. it’s seen so much life, so many decades and its lifeblood travels throughout the healthy tree, bringing and sharing nutrients. home to insects and small creatures, it provides shade for the vegetation beneath it. it’s not just an old tree and it’s not the picture of what we think of when we think of a beautiful tree. but it is. beautiful. you just can’t judge a book by its cover. my sweet momma always said that.
momma would look in the mirror and talk about the wrinkles on her face and how “old” she looked. in her wheelchair she could appear to be meek, wrestling with difficulties and just an old woman. but that was so not so. she had seen much life. she was home to my dad, me and my sister and brother, our families, extended members as it fanned out the branches of our family tree, her friends. she provided warm words and kindnesses to all around her, strangers among them. she was beautiful. every last gorgeous wrinkle. you just can’t judge a book by its cover.
we had a black lab years ago, one of a few in our family history, when The Girl and The Boy were little. his name was hughie and he had at least 47 allergies. he was treated for many of these and we tried to address the auto-immune disease he had as well, but he lost most of the hair on his body. he looked gnarly and rough and wrinkled. as a lab with little hair, he looked scary to those who did not know him. he struggled and, even in his discomfort, was gentle and sweet, a learning for The Girl and The Boy, who were his and, despite his outward appearance, knew what was inside. he was not the picture of what we think of when we think of a beautiful dog. but he was. beautiful. you just can’t judge a book by its cover.
inside. beautiful. how hard is it to always remember that? you just can’t judge a book by its cover.
it’s circuitous…the way i would define where i’m from. you have to be prepared to listen a spell if you ask me this question.
just like anyone, i have taken pieces – absorbed – every place i’ve been, every community i have shared in, every experience i’ve had, everyone i’ve met or been influenced by; indeed, those have become where i’m from. in jeans and boots on stage i talk about where “home” is and try to differentiate by referring to wisconsin as “home”, florida as “home-home” and long island as “home-home-home” which sounds semi-ridiculous, not to mention annoying for people who cringe at redundancy. plus it doesn’t include time living on a sheep farm in new hampshire nor profound moments i’ve had visiting places that have sought space in my soul. but it might give you a place to listen from; with your eyes closed you may hear your own story.
when i wrote this piece, 21 years ago or so, i knew it needed to swirl around the theme, travel from one key to another, return to its theme…have continuity yet have places where it started again. in celebrating my sweet momma and dad this week with the introduction of my song YOU’RE THE WIND it brought me back to my deepest roots, transplanted time and again though they may be. no matter what, i will always be a northeast girl. new york is in my blood and long island is ever a part of my heart.
where i’m from…it’s time ago…it’s now…it’s what’s to come.
if you listen you can hear the tide. in and out…like day, like experiences, like finding home. it changes. it’s the same.
it would be 75 today. 75 years since the day my sweet momma and poppo married. and so, i am sharing two videos here today – the first is a dedication and the other is my song YOU’RE THE WIND. because i know you are. the wind. to each other and to each of us here on earth who miss and love you. always.
spoiler alert to the girl, the boy, family and friends: do not be surprised if one of your christmas/holiday presents from us is a shirt or sweatshirt or hat that says “AS YOU IS”.
we encountered michael at the farmers’ market one beautiful saturday when the sun was warm and the yellow jackets plentiful. i was drawn to the simple stand of breeze-fluttering t-shirts, the saying AS YOU IS on the banner and the byline “big boned or small featured. thick-haired or bald-headed. married or single. A or C student. white or black or in-between. male or female. or in-between.” we stopped to talk. i’m so glad we did.
michael was disarmingly charming and honest and zealous and positive – a breath of fresh air in a world that seems to be full of negativity and judgment these days. he spoke of the origins of his cottage business and his simple philosophy, arrived at through years of painful learning and experience and after a long career outside of this new mission. we could relate to him. he told us the point of AS YOU IS: “As You Is” is a rally cry for anyone and everyone that has a good heart, regardless of race, color, faith, age, gender, nationality, physical or mental limitations, or appearance.
the pull to stay and talk was strong, but that would have precluded michael from introducing others at the market to his new line, his new business. and so, we grabbed business cards, asked him to design some sweatshirts as well and continued on our way. but AS YOU IS has remained in our conversations together. his AS YOU IS. our (sweet momma/beaky-inspired) BE KIND. twinsies.
i suspect we will seek michael out to talk some more. because chatting with someone about acceptance and hope and goodness is, as michael says, one hella gift.
As You Is® was created to start conversations…to cause total strangers to smile…to make people think…to get others to feel so accepted they break out in impromptu dance…and to put a serious chink in the armor of racism.
Our hope is one day children can embrace being uniquely themselves, where they feel safe being different and where old people – like our founder Michael Fornwald – can age gracefully or ungracefully sans self-contempt.
Please join us by infecting others with hope one hella cool t-shirt or cap at a time.
i blame my sweet momma. i cannot avoid seeing spelling errors, grammar errors, punctuation errors in the newspaper, on newsletters, signs, websites, billboards. we were perusing a website the other day and came across this headline. it’s an irony that the word “prograMing” (with one M) was used next to the word “educational”… i mean, exactly how “educational” can the programming be if it can’t even be spelled correctly? aaack. it’s one of those little things that makes me a little bit crazy. i can’t help it.
that fact (that it makes me a little bit crazy) doesn’t exempt me from mistakes of my own. certainly, i have racked up a few too. but my momma was one-of-those-people who made me use a dictionary at all times and would point out the correct usage of punctuation and grammar. and i am grateful to her! she would say, “if you aren’t sure, look it up.”
you’ve all seen something along the lines of this:
it’s true. it’s a little thing, but in these days of so many wrongs, every little thing done right counts. even if it’s a mere comma. even if it’s the apostrophe after the word “it” or, the (correct) absence of an apostrophe to pluralize a noun. “dog’s” for “dogs” makes me, yep, a little crazy. (geesh…thank you, momma!)
we were driving through alabama on a back road; it had taken us south toward florida over 100 miles and the scenery was pretty varied. alabama is an interestingly textured state – from the duct tape letters spelling out “deer rendering” on a black plastic sign hanging next to a long overgrown dirt driveway to the vast cattle ranches with big houses and multiple outbuildings. but there was one place that we passed that made us just keeeeeeep gooooooing, although i do wish we had stopped to take a photograph. since we didn’t, david drew you a picture.
are you ready for this? it was a skating rink. named – sharpshooters skating rink. now, despite the pristine spelling and grammar with an itty-bitty punctuation error, some words just shouldn’t ever be put together. agreed?
