A productive day, sort of

In spite of a dismal morning with predictions of a cold front, I managed a slightly productive day. After checking email and other online sources, I set myself to making tuna pasties. I really like them, but the making is a bit of a challenge, because you have to roll out the dough. I use tube biscuits, separate each biscuit into two, and roll out thin. I’ve been putting it off because the rolling out is tedious, but this morning I decided I was just going to do it. Of course, in spite of my determination, I almost burned four of them—they are what, with generosity, I would call well-done. The may not be pretty, with neatly crimped edges, but they are delicious.

I finished reading Erik Larson’s The Splendid and the Vile, about Churchill and the devastating German bombing of England. I’ve been dawdling too long over that book, because though it’s fascinating history, with lots of personal glimpses, it was hard for me to wrap my mind around the devastation. I forget the numbers, but I think almost fifty thousand Brits were killed and almost an equal number injured to various degrees. With the pandemic we’re currently living through I can understand that the death and destruction are impersonal (unless you want to fault government handling of the crisis), but it appalls me to think that the bombing of England was deliberately ordered by other human beings. They cared nothing for the lives of their victims. It makes today’s rise of Nazism all the more appalling.

But I learned an invaluable lesson from reading Larson, particularly his notes to the book. He made the distinction between biography and history, saying that for him the tiniest details are important to biography—the things that historians generally sweep by in their quest to capture the larger picture. I’ve realized that the project I’m working on—a biography—depends on the many anecdotes available. Now I will pay close attention to details, even lists of them.

With social distancing these days, I keep hearing a lot about Zoom. People use it for everything from business meetings and classroom lessons to family reunions. Had my first experience with it tonight, and I mark it was a clear fail. Jordan and I were trying to respond to Megan’s invitation on my computer, and it kept telling us to click to join (which I didn’t want to do), click here to download (which didn’t work). Jordan’s frustration level kept sinking, and I felt she was blaming me for me computer, though she denied it.

We finally ended up talking to Megan on Facebook and getting a tour of the house under construction. It’s going to be smashing, and I was enthralled and happy for my daughter. I still don’t like Facebook, because if I don’t want to look like an ancient hag from Macbeth, I have to hold the phone at a high angle over my head—and my arm gets tired. Of course, whichever of my kids I’m talking to looks charming and adorable. There is no justice in this world.

Tomorrow is another new day. Ho, hum! I think I’ll start a new project. I have a feeling that we’re in this isolation business for the long haul.

Of Books and passing time

I can survive well enough on my own—if given the proper reading material.” – Sarah J. Maas—American fantasy author

Predictions for authors and the book industry varied from gloomy to wildly optimistic as this period of social distancing set in. It seemed only logical to me that people, robbed of other pastimes, would read more. But bookstores are closed, Amazon is making medical supplies a priority over books, and the outlook is grim. Authors report lagging to nonexistent sales.

I truly though I would read all the time, but for the first two weeks I read only sporadically. I was glued to the internet, reading every credible source I could find on pandemic news. Maybe it’s that now I am inured to predictions of death and destruction, but today I got back to serious reading.

I finished Something from the Oven, by Laura Shapiro, a study of the changing eating habits of America in the 1950s. Actually the story of change begins earlier and carries on to a climax in the ‘60s with the revolution jointly inspired by Julia Child and Betty Freidan, two seemingly opposed women who had much in common and together changed forever the American housewife’s role. I was particularly interested, however, in the ‘50s, the rise of packaged and prepared foods, and the attempts to “glamorize” them. There were some awful dishes served in those days. Just think pineapple Jello with miniature marshmallows and you’ve got the essence.

The book which really has captivated me though is Erik Larson’s The Splendid and the Vile, about Winston Churchill and the early bombings of London in WWII. Larson is the extremely talented and thorough author of books about the Galveston Hurricane of 1900, the 1892 Columbian Exposition in Chicago, and the sinking of the Lusitania, among others. Churchill is, of course, a fascinating character—idiosyncratic but canny, a strong and determined leader, bound to save his country at all costs.

I see many parallels between those 1940 days in London and our situation today in the pandemic. People were, as we are, living with anticipatory dread (isn’t that a wonderful and descriptive phrase), fearing an unknown and unpredictable enemy that loomed large. They were, as Governor Cuomo said today, surrounded by death. But for many Londoners, this crisis brought out the best in them—and so it is for many in America today. The only difference is that the Brits had a strong leader and, today, we do not.

One of Larson’s skills is the ability—based on his deep and thorough research—to reveal character. So we see Churchill in his elaborate gold dressing gown, embossed with dragons, cigar clamped in his teeth, pacing in the gardens at 10 Downing Street during a night bombing. Or we see him touring London after the first devastating raid, crying with the people as he saw the destruction. We get a glimpse of his family—the daughter who wanted so badly to be part of the war effort and her parents’ determined efforts to keep her safe. Or his wife, Clemmie, who tried to keep a normal household. People make history, and the people of England are revealed here.

The narrative occasionally jumps to Germany where we get glimpses into the thinking of Goring and Goebbels and, by reflection, Hitler. These passages were harder for me to read, but I pushed through.

My dad, a Canadian who fought Germany in WWI, hero-worshipped Churchill, so reading this not only fascinates me but serves as a tribute to that wonderful, strong, honorable man who raised me. I’m still only half-way through, but I will finish this book and be the better for having read it.

Ho hum! Day number seven.

Jacob, eating Ramen on the patio

By shopping at several stores, his mom managed to get

enough Ramen to keep him happy for a couple of weeks;

it's apparently a high-demand item.

No, I don’t intend to number every day or consciously count them. That way lies madness, I am sure. But today it strikes me that a week ago today I spoke at a women’s luncheon and had supper with a good friend—and I haven’t been away from the house since. Our world has changed remarkably in the short space of seven days.

Rain and thunder again in the night, only I slept through them. My only clues were that the sidewalks were wet and Sophie didn’t want to leave my side. I woke to a dull morning and a temporary bit of the doldrums, which didn’t improve when the sun came out in the late morning. By noon, I was unbearably sleepy and not interested in doing much except either sitting at my desk or crawling back into bed.

I worked—and did some piddly things—but didn’t accomplish as much as I would have liked. I am torn between my natural inclination toward being a compulsive and an underlying sense that there’s no hurry about anything I do—I will have months and months to accomplish it. Add to all that an acute awareness of the danger of lethargy, and I didn’t much like myself this morning. I took a nap about two and swore to wake up a new person.

One of the things I like about myself is that with stern talking to, I can almost always pull myself out of the doldrums. It’s how I got through the long, difficult post-operative period after my hip surgery, and that same attitude stood me in good stead today. I woke up refreshed—dealt with a few things on the computer (my 10-minute census form and cancelling a disputed credit card charge) and swore to fix myself a good supper.

By 4:30 rain was threatening again, and Jordan came out to ask if I wanted to sit on the patio a big before the storm hit. She is determined that I get some vitamin D every day. I did like the idea. (Our patio is growing green algae from all this rain!) Jacob joined us, and we probably stayed 15 minutes before the thunder and threatening skies drove us inside.

I fixed a cheesy/tomato/white bean baked recipe from the NYTimes—glad I cut it in half because it was okay but not great. To go with it, I fixed salmon croquettes, a favorite since childhood—only I make them as patties, rather than the log-shape my mom used to do. While I was cooking, Jordan sat at my desk and compiled a Central Market order, thinking maybe it would be Saturday before it would be ready. Yep—it will be a week from Saturday!

After dinner, despite the reading I already have on my desk, I started a new book: Erik Larson’s The Splendid and the Vile. I am a Larson fan, from reading The Devil in the White City, about the Columbian Exposition, set practically in the Chicago neighborhood in which I grew up, and Isaac’s Storm, about the 1900 hurricane that nearly wiped out the entire coastal city of Galveston. Larson’s new  book is about Churchill and the early days of WWII in England, the days some refer to as “the Gathering Storm.” I am particularly drawn to British history in that time and to Winston Churchill as a historic figure—an interest that makes me feel closer to my father, who was an inordinate fan of  Churchill.

So I salvaged what started out as a lost day and am feeling better about tomorrow. After all, we’ve got a long haul ahead of us—as did the Brits in 1940.