Things I’ve been thinking and writing about this week: Black walnuts. Goals. Learning. Moving/Michigan. The problem is today’s the day I’m supposed to hit the red Publish button and send you something. But all I have is a mountain of words. All Christmas ornaments, no tree. Tree being the thing the post is about.
This isn’t about block. I’ve written 7,000 words this week. Some good stuff. Problem is I can’t figure out what any of those vignettes really mean. All failed to reveal to me what they were about and it wasn’t for lack of trying.
I’ll show you what I mean (briefly):
My grandfather was a member of the Ohio Nut Growers Association. There was a huge black walnut tree next to the garage. They dropped softball-sized light green fruits, the squishy remains of which needed to be picked up in the spring before one restarted lawn mowing. Once liberated from their protective sheath, they were tough to get out of the shell. Black walnuts also have a very distinct, and some may argue are an acquired taste. I could go on…if I knew what I was trying to say. Black walnuts a metaphor for…what? I don’t know!
I started a children’s story about goals that won’t stay gotten. (Think: Phantom Tollbooth.) Then I ran across Tiny Habits by BJ Fogg, which is blowing my mind and so I’ll come back to this one once I’ve internalized that system.
Professor Schochet’s business math class. One of the last classes I had to take in my quest to graduate from Wayne State (BA in Art 1990) was business math. This worried me because where words and sentences were my best friends, numbers and formulas were aloof strangers. I just couldn’t connect.
Math was a foreign language and if I was going to pass this class, I needed a skilled interpreter. This I found, and more, in Professor Claude Schochet, who held a PhD in mathematics from University of Chicago, with extensive post doctoral studies (K-Theory, anyone?). Dr. Schochet was so obviously in love with math, even the lowly algebra of business mathematics, that you couldn’t help but induct his enthusiasm. His instruction also was masterful. Not only were his explanations crystal clear, he also knew precisely the order in which to deliver the concepts so the knowledge would “stack” properly and be remembered.
I went to every class. I hung on every word. I did all the homework. And, I got an A. In math. If you needed proof that miracles can happen…look no further. To be clear, the miracle was that I landed in this remarkable and accomplished educator’s classroom. The grade was gravy.
This experience remains at the forefront of my memory, 30 years later. Why?
Again, I have no idea. Is it Kriyananda’s “you teach with your vibration” thing again? Or the relief of knowing I may not be the math moron I thought I was. (Change in self-perception? Shift to a growth mindset?) OK, but what’s the universal truth? See what I mean?
Moving/Michigan. I’ve moved 25+ times since 1983. My first apartment was a gracious 11th floor studio in The Park Shelton, a former residence hotel located at Woodward Ave. and Brush Street, across from the Detroit Insititute of Arts. (Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo lived in the building for a time when he was doing the murals at the DIA.) The area is now known as “Midtown” and the building has since gone condo. From there, I bounced around the Detroit metro area until 1992, when I moved to Chicago.
So I’ve moved from Michigan (Ferndale to be exact), to Chicago (Irving Park) to Middletown (Hillbilly Elegy), to New Jersey (Hopewell, where General Washington’s troops once marched through our backyard). And Ohio (Columbus) is up next.
I don’t miss living in Chicago or Middletown. I know I will miss living here in Hopewell but am looking forward to the Columbus adventure. I didn’t think I missed Michigan, but given my emotional response to this video…
Video: Missing Michigan (Credit: ShyBoy/Wendy Waldman/Abraham Parker/Mark Nubar)
OK, Michigan. What is it I’m really missing? And what is the universal truth, the reason anyone else should care? I know it’s something about the concept of home. Appears more rumination is required.
So, there you go. The real time process of a writer of creative non-fiction. None of my ideas would “sit down” in time and I had to ship, so I just made that the topic. Ha! This ain’t my first rodeo.
Have a lovely holiday.
xo hb