Practicing Gratitude

Soon after my wife's involvement with the Positive Psychology movement reignited my commitment to regularly documenting moments of gratitude in my journal, our daughter made a suggestion to us that she believed could take our gratitude practice to another level. And she was right.

It began in January 2020 when we placed a ready supply of post-it notes in several colors and a pen next to a large glass jar on our kitchen counter. Whenever either of us is reminded of something we are grateful for, we record the date and the thought, fold and then put the post-it into our jar. When we have guests at our home and we remember, we ask them if they'd like to contribute something. We've even begun taking a small supply of post-its with us during time away from home and asked both fellow travelers and family to join us if they'd like.

I've saved the best for last. On or near the first of the year, my wife and I turn the jar upside down and shuffle all the post-its we've collected. We then read them to one another - out of order - giving us an opportunity to re-live moments of gratitude from the past year. This tradition - now repeated five years running - has quickly become one of the undisputed highlights of our year. Each year we are reminded anew of both the richness of our lives and the power of practicing gratitude. How do you remind yourself to be grateful?       

Stop - Start - Continue: 2025

Among the once-each-year series I've created, Stop - Start - Continue, published on New Year's Day, has continually gotten some of the most positive feedback. I encourage you to join me here today - as some of you have in the past - and make a public commitment. There is substantial research indicating people are much more likely to follow through on public commitments than on ones they make only to themselves. 

In 2025, I will stop allowing closeness communication bias to get in my way when listening to people in my family of origin as well as with my wife and daughter. When I finished reading Kate Murphy's exceptional 2019 book You're Not Listening, it was clear that I'd fallen into the trap of frequently "thinking" I knew what people close to me we're going to say before they'd finished speaking. I'm now firmly committed to curbing this behavior. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Rescuing Ourselves

In 2025, I will start reading at least one well-regarded biography each year. My reading diet has been lacking in this particular protein for too long. I'm thinking of starting with a biography of Winston Churchill, a complicated, controversial, and critically pivotal twentieth century statesman.  

In 2025, I will continue to regularly attend open jazz jam sessions all across the area. This road has started out bumpy and I've had some demoralizing moments. But I'm driven to find my improvisational voice and to discovering more joy in what I'm able to do vs. being pre-occupied with what still eludes me. 

I look forward to learning what you plan to stop, start, and continue in 2025. If you have trouble with one or two, no worries. Commit to just one of the three. But be sure to tell me and others what that is, OK?  

Best of 2024

Considering the number of high points this year delivered, in order to keep this post a reasonable length, I'm forced to leave out several things that would easily have made earlier iterations in this series. No matter. Please share with me and others as many "best of" moments from 2024 as you wish, using either my headings or your own.

Best single moment: No contest here: On October 3 at 6:37 p.m., I became a grandfather. How I wish my new grandson lived right around the block vs. across the country. 

Best musical moments: The first few measures playing Body and Soul with just a pianist at an open jazz jam session at the Long Branch Distillery in March and then parts of my solo in Summertime at another session at the Chubby Pickle in Atlantic Highlands in September.  

Best vacation: The two-week trip across four countries in southern Africa we took in February was so exceptional, putting it in a "best of 2024" bucket is inadequate. That vacation might be the best my wife and I have taken together over our 47+ years.

Best documentary: Stamped from the Beginning, based on Ibram X. Kendi's eponymous book from 2016, was riveting start to finish. The segments featuring the fiercely intelligent Angela Davis are revelatory.

Best sign in a coffee shop: "We have no Wi-Fi. Pretend it's 1995 and talk to one another."

Best crow-eating discovery: Stumbling onto The Last Rung on the Ladder a 1978 short story by a young Stephen King. It's easy, if lazy, for reading snobs to bad mouth King, given his massive popularity and prodigious output. But this early story of his - no horror, mayhem, or vampires in sight - reminded this snob of his undeniable writing talent. The taste of crow remains fresh, many months later.

Please join me in celebrating 2024. And Happy New Year! 

Re-Visiting the Re-Cap

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Reading Re-Cap: 2024

Those of you who read the post above a week ago can't say you weren't warned. With the number of books finished during this extended time away from home rapidly approaching a monthly record, it was more than predictive that - before 2024 was over - I might still stumble across at least one solid novel worth recommending to people I've heard describe themselves as casual readers. 

"The women were talking about people, the men talking about things. It was why so many of the men prospered on Wall Street and in the big law firms, where things could be turned into money and people were interchangeable and even insignificant, and there were hardly any women running the show."   

Alternate Side (2018) is engaging and smart end-to-end. Anchored by Anna Quindlen's sturdy prose, well-etched characters, and storytelling skill, the book is filled with sharp insights touching on money, marriage, and messy New York City life. Not since finishing Amor Towles's debut novel Rules of Civility in 2011 have I read a novel that consistently captures NYC as well as Quindlen does here. 

"...some of their marriages were like balloons: a few went suddenly pop, but more often than not the air slowly leaked out until it was a sad wrinkled little thing with no lift to it anymore."

In addition, unlike some family novels, the emotional ending in this one struck me as both well-earned and authentic. "People go through life thinking they're making decisions when they're really just making plans, which is not the same thing at all." Put this on your list, casual or discerning readers.

p.s. I'll let you decide if you want to read my Goodreads review (link below) to learn of one quibble I have with the editing of Alternate Side. That quibble aside, let me be clear: I adore Anna Quindlen. 

Edit Review - Alternate Side | Goodreads

Memorializing His First Christmas

Like most people, I have no recollection of my first Christmas. I suspect the same will be true for my new grandson, a little under three months old today.

Over the last three weeks spent with him, the likelihood my grandson would not recall anything about his first Christmas did not dissuade me from imagining otherwise. And in my egotistical fantasies, the only gift he would remember would be one I gave to him. 

Early today, I realized how much I was looking forward to feeding the little man again. I grabbed my journal to record that pleasant anticipation. Then something told me to go back and read some of my recent journal entries. 

Be fully present for Leo in any way I'm needed during the time spent with him. The moment I read that sentence from my journal, written a few days before we left home for this extended visit, the dual meaning of the word present struck me anew. In the end, isn't being present for this new life the best possible present I can give? It doesn't matter at all if he remembers. I'll remember and always be grateful I was here sharing his first Christmas with him.   

Let's Go to the Tape

Any of you have a videotape of yourself interacting with a large group of your peers at a young age? Since watching a group of five-year old classmates being entertained by a magician at a birthday party, I've been wondering how the behavior of five-year old Pat would have compared to the children I observed closely that day. Would I have been ...

* Holding tightly to my mother's leg, never joining the other kids on the blanket?

* Sitting in the middle of the group most of the hour, close enough to interact with either the other kids or the magician?

* Standing so close to the magician for most of her performance that she had to maneuver around me at times? 

* Spending some time up front, some in the middle, some in the back, seated at some times, standing at others, running around joyfully at still others?

Putting aside common variables that have might have had an impact on some of the children as I observed them - their mood that day, the magician's vibe, how close by parents stood - isn't it still reasonable to say I was watching an early version of each of these little people? And if that is so, how cool would it be to have a videotape of a similar moment from your early life? Or why not invent the videotape? What is that early version of you doing?     

 

Reading Re-Cap: 2024

For this 7th iteration, I had to make some adjustments to the headings I've used since the inception of this series in 2018. First off, no novel I finished this past year that is worth recommending felt like a good fit with the word casual.  And because each of the seven novels I'd previously recommended to casual readers were so uniformly excellent, I chose not to cheapen the heading this year with something not worth the time. I look forward to returning to it next December.     

This year also has the first-ever * attached to novel most likely to be recommended to discerning readers and - as you'll see below - I cited the same title for two headings - most intriguing and most personally useful. In earlier years each of those headings had their own book. All that aside, ignore my headings if you wish when you offer your own 2024 reading re-cap. I've been pleased when readers of my blog have sought out books from either my re-caps or titles offered by others as a comment on this post in years past. 

Novel* most likely to be recommended to discerning readers: James - Percival Everett (2024)  

Reflections From The Bell Curve: James  

I attached that asterisk because after finishing Claire Keegan's Foster a few weeks back, I thought that book would inch past James for this heading this year. But technically, Foster is a novella. Do yourself a favor, discerning readers; read both, soon. 

Novel and non-fiction that most deepened my experience of living: Heaven and Earth Grocery Store - James McBride (2023); The Splendid and the Vile - Erik Larson (2020)

Most worthwhile re-read: The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro (1989)

Most intriguing AND Most personally useful: You're Not Listening - Kate Murphy (2019)

As always, I reserve the right to make an adjustment to this re-cap if anything I finish over the next twelve days surpasses any of the titles above for their respective headings. Given TC Boyle, Elizabeth Strout, and Colson Whitehead are among the authors in my current queue, don't take any bets on this being the final final word. Most of all, I look forward to hearing your re-cap. Bookworms unite!  

A Friendship Nourished by Music

Aside from those in your family of origin, which relationship in your life has the oldest roots? What has helped to nourish those roots? 

Bob and I started kindergarten together in 1954. We remained schoolmates and on/off friends through grammar school and junior high. Beginning in 1964, when he drafted me to learn drums to complete the band he'd started, we were virtually inseparable until graduation from Irvington High in 1967.

In our sophomore year of college - me at Newark State, him at Seton Hall - I turned the musical draft around, asking him to round out a group I'd formed as a freshman. The three-part harmony he heard in my trio sealed the deal; we were joined at the musical hip again until spring of senior year, 1971.  

Although each of us knew what the other was up to, young adult life separated us until the mid-80s. In an odd coincidence, it turned out we'd each bought homes less than a mile from one another. After we discovered the proximity, our musical bond helped re-ignite our dormant friendship. We began following a smoking ten-piece band for years. Next: Starting our own families - quite a bit later than most of our peers - and a longer break, except for holiday cards.   

The final movement in this lifelong symphony began over ten years ago, soon after I stopped working full time. Thank you, Facebook. For the last few years, our distance from each other has made regular face-to-face contact more challenging. But not long after having lunch together last month, it dawned on me that my relationship with Bob had now entered its eighth decade. Those long periods without contact apparently did little damage to our strong and enduring roots, which have been continually nourished by the most ancient of the arts, music.