the bee hive chronicles

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#45 – Lessons of 2020

December 28, 2020 /

I think, at this point, the world is exhausted of this year. And, truly – logistically, it is time to bid it farewell. Just about 366 days – lived and gone. A fresh set of days, weeks, and months – waiting in the wings. For better or for worse. But, I feel it is safe to say – we would all love for the this new block of time, to be for the better…

As with most – this year kicked my butt, for sure. But, it also showed me, taught me – so much. How to convert a brick and mortar book store into an online book distribution center, for one. How to never assume I can run said book distribution center alone during the holidays – even during a Pandemic, is another really big one. Who my people are. Both the Bee Hive’s beautiful tried and true; and in my personal life – those that consistently showed up for me – even if sometimes I’ve been too crazy or pooped to show up for them. How amazing, resilient,and delightful Cash and Olive are. But, even for all their amazing-ness, resilience, and delightful-ness – they still absolutely need their people, their friends, their tribe. And, that without that – 10-year-olds get really sad.

I have been given a screeching-loud wake up call about how my lack of action and speaking out made me complicit in the despicable state of Race Relations in this country. I have been taking a hard look at my own tendencies and it is a long-overdue slap in the face for me. One that, I hope, will stay with me, and keep me mindful, conscious, and present about something that I just can not and will not tolerate in myself.  

One night of continuously texting photos to a friend and professional bread-baker, taught me a much needed lesson about the importance of hydration in bread baking. His patience and insistence – more, more, more – made it finally click for me after many, many years of cooking and baking – that there is no such thing as too much moisture in dough. It has transformed my life! And my baking! Not just my bread, but pizza dough, cinnamon rolls, pie crusts – are so much better. I continue to work on my bread, because it has provided a source of great yumminess and comfort for my family this year, but also, because of Covid and my friend needing to be extra careful – he hasn’t tasted my bread yet. And, when he finally does – I want him to see – I was paying attention during those late night tutorials.

As with most – this year kicked my butt, for sure. But, it also showed me, taught me – so much.

My daughter has been learning Latin this year. And, it turns out, has quite an ear for it. Cash and I, sort of, have been learning alongside her as she teaches us with her very drawn out, slow pronunciations. I am now referred to as mater and Cash is referred to as fraterculus. One particularly memorable afternoon, as the three of us sat around the kitchen table drinking tea – Olive brought out her Latin workbook and taught us all sorts of very important words – like tunic and wax tablet and writing plume. I was delighted to learn some Latin! I asked Olive – what about How are you? or Good afternoon? Yeah – nope. Nothing like that. Right! I learned – by way of my very bright daughter – what a dead language truly means. And that sometimes, tunics and waxed tablets are all you really need…

This was a year that really reminded me – drilled into me, really – the importance of books and movies and music. Movies for entertainment (thank god) and escapism. Books – for me, who spends my days surrounded by all things books, it was a year that reaquainted me with actually reading. I’ve craved it. I can’t get enough. During a time when I have been often exhausted, and sometimes a tad depressed – stories and characters, truly in the thick of the human experience, have been the only place I wanted to be. Books have always been company for my deeply introverted nature – so validating and soothing. This year, that’s been magnified by 100%. And, I think, probably saved me from going down any really dark hole. Music, for me has been a total distraction. I can not stop looking for the perfect song for whatever playlist I happen to be working on – and there have been many. Music has been complete poetry for me. And, a much needed balm.

The lessons haven’t been all bad.

But they haven’t been all welcome.

The day after Christmas, I got word that one of the most wonderful people I have ever known, passed away that morning. I immediately sunk to my kitchen floor and wept. And, I couldn’t stop. As I grieved in a way that actually surprised me in its depth – it occurred to me, that I was just one of many many many many people who have experienced the loss, the injustice, the confusion, the disorientation of all that this year has taken…stolen. In that moment I was profoundly moved by how few have been untouched by 2020’s long-reaching tentacles of death and pain, heartache and suffering.

It has been enough – I think.

Enough lessons.

Hopefully, this new year – this new block of time – will be a little less about lessons. And, instead, move us closer to living again.

 

 

 

#44 – Freeze Frame!

November 16, 2020 /

When I was a kid, we used to play this game called Freeze Frame! Everyone runs around and then one person yells FREEZE FRAME! You have to completely freeze in your steps. The first person who moves, even the slightest, is out. You keep playing until there is just one person left. As I got older, we stopped running around to play the game, but my friends and sister, and I would sometimes take advantage of the power of yelling Freeze Frame! and if someone was being annoying or even just to be funny, out of the blue – we would call it to stop one another in our tracks. It was more or less part of our lexicon.

In this moment, I am overcome with the strongest sensation of someone having just yelled FREEZE FRAME! – at me.

On November 5 – in the midst of a week of discomfort and tension, post-election day – the Bee Hive celebrated its ninth anniversary. The store is officially on the road to its tenth year. In honor of that, I have been thinking a lot about what direction I would like the Bee Hive to take. How it might be able to grow as a business, as well as how it may better serve the community in the forthcoming ten years, and beyond.

I can’t reveal anything about the plan right now – because, well – I’m frozen….

As I locked up the store on the last day it was open for customers, before the shut down – It almost seemed like I felt it slump in disappointment. Like a kid so raring to play, but being kept inside. The pause button has been hit on the physical store front of the Bee Hive – bursting and poised for The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year. (But, the magic continues behind the drawn blind on the front door.)

In this moment, I am overcome with the strongest sensation of someone having just yelled FREEZE FRAME! – at me.

Meanwhile, at home…Cash and Olive are devastated that the activities each of them had to look forward to after school – the things each week that have been getting them around other kids and keeping them going  – have been canceled. Devastated that they are getting farther away from going back to school, rather than closer. I have been doing my best to come up with things we can look forward to – We will re-watch all the Harry Potter movies (except the second one – too scary)! I will make sourdough waffles – every day! They can pick whatever dessert they want for Thanksgiving dinner! They can read piles and piles of books. And, I have a feeling, many, many Christmas movies are in my future.

And, while I have been working to soothe my kids. I have been comforting myself with the idea that the phone will still ring at Bee Hive. UPS will still deliver books, and I will still be able to fill orders and be of service to customers who feel books are essential items; small businesses are essential places; and, reading is as essential as food and water. As disappointed as the little white house may be – book fairies don’t rest. Thank goodness.

When we are safely on the other side of all this and Bee Hive is no longer frozen – I look forward to throwing the doors open and sharing with the community all that I hope to make happen over the course of the next year and beyond.

In the meantime, I am going to try really, really hard not to move.

Because, honestly, it is such a drag to be called…OUT!

 

#43 – Purgatory

October 2, 2020 /

I am third-generation Italian. Along with the natural inclination I have towards food – both cooking it and eating it; and, an admiration for pretty people on Vespas — I also inherited parents who experienced extremely strict Roman Catholic upbringings. And, who – even though they cringed every time they had to step into a vestibule – still sent my sister and I to Catholic school and had us go through the motions that good Catholics do – First Holy Communions, ashes on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday, Christmas Eve mass….There was much that put the fear of god in me about the faith that dominated my childhood, but the thing that truly stands out, to this day, was the idea of Purgatory.

The Purgatory that I heard about in Sunday school catechism class, is sort of an uncomfortable stop-over between this life and where you go next.

Webster’s definition of Purgatory:
(in Roman Catholic doctrine) a place or state of suffering inhabited by the souls of sinners who are expiating their sins before going to heaven.

There is no going straight to heaven…not until you get clean.

If you had the opportunity to read the beautifully creepy Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders – he was incredibly creative in his conjuring of a gruesome hold-over zone – but in his case a Bardo, which is Buddhist.

Webster’s definition of Bardo:
(in Tibetan Buddhism) a state of existence between death and rebirth, varying in length according to a person’s conduct in life and manner of, or age at, death.

Same idea but you are on your way to rebirth rather then heaven.

Regardless, in two vastly different philosophies, there is a belief in an in-between place. A place where you are neither here nor there. A place where you gotta sit with things, until you can pass Go.

Purgatory has been coming to mind a lot for me lately.

I always felt creating an in-between world between lives seemed pretty cruel. Like waiting for test results, or a college acceptance letter, or if you’ve been approved for a loan.

Or the outcome of a particularly crucial election

Or for a vaccine to be made

Or….

Very much like this moment in time.

I am not sure if what is on the other side of this chafing dish is heaven or hell. Or, how long it will take to get there from here.

I feel in the meantime – while I am hanging in the Bardo – my skin is a little thinner.

The next book in our queue to read together at home was Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You: A Remix of Stamped From The Beginning  by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi. When I pulled it out for the first time to read – my heart just wasn’t in it. And my daughter asked if, just for that night, we could read The Penderwicks. Ok – so, we have listened to every Penderwick book at least twice on road trips and read each book, together, at least once. Cash and Olive have read by themselves, each book, at least twice. I am certain between the three of us we could recite each of the five books verbatim. (For those who have not had the pleasure, The Penderwicks is a delightful series of books about a family of four girls growing up on the east coast with a widowed professor father – who is often spewing Latin. Over the course of the books their family blends and grows from their father remarrying and other various lovely people coming into their circle. They eat tomato sandwiches, vacation by the sea, play music and soccer, grow up, fall in love, get in trouble, and burn a lot of stuff in the kitchen. They are beautifully written and truly charming). So Stamped remains on the shelf, for now, and we continue to indulge in The Penderwicks. “The Penderwicks are just so…happy,” signed Olive.

While Limbo Land has been a challenge of a lifetime – and I feel as if I am biting my nails more with each passing day – I am grateful to be able to wrap Olive and Cash up in The Penderwicks. Grateful for the beautiful change of seasons and the excuse to make green chili stew, and Frito pie, and pumpkin muffins. For the N.B.A. and the fantastic show they’ve been putting on for us (I am not sure what we will do at my house when life inside the Bubble comes to an end.) And, bread. Yay for the bread baking journey. Knowing that there is a fresh loaf of bread waiting to be consumed – can completely turn a day around.

I have been dreaming about the Bee Hive and how — some day, some way — it will be transformed to be of service to more people, create more connection, and have a wider scope – a broader reach. This is my hope for the store. And, the Hope that is getting me through many current moments.

Purgatory nor Bardo, I don’t believe, are meant to be pleasant.

The drawn out Unknown. The uncertainty of fate. The isolation.

The good news is – neither Purgatory or Bardo are permanent states. They are layovers. At some point you find out if you are going to heaven or hell. Or, what life you will inhabit next.

We will move on.

What life will look life after Purgatory/Bardo is, of course, a mystery.

I am keeping my fingers crossed…

that whatever we move on to, has vacations by the sea and tomato sandwiches.

I would even take some Latin here and there.

#42 – You Are Amazing

August 22, 2020 /

The day started with money unexpectedly being drafted from the Bee Hive account. Legitimate, but, an unplanned for expense. Money that was to cover a check written for another bill payment that would go through at any moment.

The good news continued to trickle in from there. Results of the financial challenges of this moment in time, culminating in an email saying that my PPP loan application was declined because it was never signed. (And yet, the DocuSign email saying my contract was complete sits in my inbox.) Money that I was planning on helping with those financial challenges of this moment.

As the unfortunate discoveries stacked up, I felt increasingly more debilitated as the day went on. By the time we sat down to play a game of Clue before Cash and Olive went to bed – it was all I could do to sit up. Between turns, I sprawled on my back on the floor. Not a great strategy for solving who did it, with what weapon, in which room. And, certainly not something I think I have ever done before – just check out to the point of a sprawl. (“Mommy is acting weird”) And, yet – these are not “ordinary” times. And – I felt utterly defeated. And, sort of – out of my body, with the lack of control over it all. Not that you really ever have control. But this is a, when will it end – will it ever end – will I ever feel comfortable with how things are, ever again – type of swirl of sensations. To the extreme where, all I could do was sprawl.

As we were getting ready to read (The really wonderful Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli) – Cash held out his hand to me and said, “Mommy. You are amazing. Say it, Mommy – I am amazing.” I looked at him. All of the guru-like wisdom wrapped up in his ten-year-old body combined with abundant sweetness, and I said, “Cash. YOU are amazing.” And he burst into tears. I was so surprised. “What? What is it sweetie?” I asked. He said, “No one has said that to me in a long time.”

And, that was it.

I snapped out of it.

I wrapped Cash in a huge hug and said it over and over – You are amazing. And, then I grabbed Olive and told her the same thing (although she already knows how amazing she is). And, right there I vowed to never let anything…Bounced checks. Disappointing news. World pandemics. Ever get in the way of my kids knowing how beautiful and amazing they are.

It has been a long ride now of stress and anxiety and uncertainty and fear for everyone on the planet.  A constant intake of sometimes-suffocating poisonous fumes.

And yet.

We are all still amazing.

Our kids are still amazing.

And. It feels really good to hear it. And say it.

And it may just be all we need – to snap the hell out of it. That toxic fog.

The realization that – more then ever – we need to see each other. Hold one another up. And love each other.

And now. I tell Cash and Olive each several times a day – no matter what kind of day it is – You are amazing.

And, we all say to ourselves – I am amazing.

And, not to say that it will never happen again, but…

For the moment, anyway, my sprawling has been contained.

#41 – Then…And…Now…

July 24, 2020 /

I feel that the Bee Hive is really pretty sweet in every season…

Fall: The season most abundant with new books – released in anticipation for the holiday season. And, a front yard blanketed in leaves.

Winter: After the awesome frenzy of the holidays – quiet, for sure. But, I always love the après-snow crowd. Hearing the reports of cold adventures while kids grab books to enjoy their well-deserved rest by.

Spring: Locals stocking up to leave town on Break. And, waves of visitors who come into town, from pretty much every state, all throughout March and April. (Always such a relief after sleepy January and February)

Summer: How to even begin with Summer?

Weekly story times that pack the house.

Visitors – many who come to Santa Fe, and the Bee Hive, yearly. They appreciate the store so much, and wait to stock up on their summer reading for their visit – often buying piles of books. I really really love that – I appreciate their appreciation so much.

Rosé, strawberry, and chocolate fueled monthly Book Club for Grown Ups. So many smart, hilarious, thoughtful discussions. All year round, but especially lovely on a summer evening.

Creative Writing Workshops. Total Magic. Two or three weeks a year, the Bee Hive is transformed into a house of inspiration. Joyful creation abounds. Beautiful hey-you-are-my-people bonding. Kids sprawled in the front yard; around the drawing table; on the floor in the Young Adult room. Just – absorbed in making stories. A special experience, every time. To be surrounded by energy of a newly-found creative outlet. It is intoxicating.

Ok – so, I really don’t want to do that thing where this is – The Before (the Apocalypse). And – After…

But.

I can’t let this summer go by without documenting the contrast. The contrast of past and future summers – and, the summer of 2020.

“It is a different kind of summer, for sure.”

In this moment, there are times that Guadalupe Street is so quiet – say, on a Wednesday in July at 11:00 – that I have actually considered doing cartwheels across the street. Just because…I can.

Rather then welcoming tourists with open arms into the store – I am extremely wary of people from out of town who I don’t know. Even though the Bee Hive definitely needs their business, I have – in fact – turned more then a few away when they have wanted to come in.

The Bee Hive’s sales have been about 80% online. Instead of hosting events or selling books in person – the store has mostly gone virtual.

My connection with customers is usually through email and hand-written notes that I put in the bags of books to be picked up. Most often, with no-contact.

Usually, during the summer, the store is open 7 days a week – all day. Lately, because it is so quiet; and, I feel it is best to not be completely open; and, because, honestly, my own kids, like everyone else’s, have no other plans – so they are with me. And, though they love being at the Bee Hive, I feel the need to get them outside as much as I can. Or, at least, to a Monopoly game. It may not be the best business model, but Olive and Cash are…my priority. So, the store for the first time ever – is only open three hours a day – five days a week.

No Creative Writing Workshops.

The Book Club is via Zoom (I still drink Rosé. And eat chocolate).

But.

I also watch every day, as the awesome folks at PakMail, across the street, bring mail and packages out to their customers’ cars. I feel it has gotta be difficult and exhausting to do what they do all day long. But, they are always cheerful. Always welcome people by name. Always completely professional.

I have seen as my fellow-business owners in the Guadalupe area – all of whom count on the Summer season to make up for October and January and February, etc – open their shops every day. Some days, they see people. Some days – they don’t. But, they are determined. They are hanging on. And showing up. Even though – you could do cartwheels across Guadalupe Street. If you wanted to.

I have watched as Paloma – my beloved neighbor – by locals and visitors, and, myself – has closed; shifted to take-out; opened, then, shut down indoor seating; and haggled with the city to be able to use our shared driveway and the Bee Hive’s front yard to extend their outdoor seating. So, they can cover their expenses, keep their staff on – stay open.

I have had beautiful, difficult, honest conversations with customers – Bee Hive family, really – from 10 feet away – when they have come by to pick up books. Everyone is exhausted. And struggling. Every. Single. Person.

It is a different kind of summer, for sure. And, I don’t know how it will look compared to next summer.

What I do know is, right now…

People are working their butts off. Fighting. Being brave. Restructuring. Getting creative. Doing their best to stay strong, safe, and resilient. Waiting. Mourning. Praying. Connecting. Hoping.

Trying…to see this…

as just another season

 

 

 

#40 – SHAME

June 26, 2020 /

For many days, I stewed in a mix of emotions. Thick and mucky. And – uncertain – as to what the muck would strain out to be, if it wasn’t all stewed together.

So, I reached out to a friend. A long-time friend who I think knows me pretty well. One who has similar values as I do. And, who is honest in calling things as he sees them. He is not one to sugar-coat things. He was my person. The one I knew who would help me sort out my muck.

Our meet-up was very – of this moment. We sat outside on a bench overlooking a Santa Fe waterfall, in the early evening, and ate homemade bread. (Because, the quarantine may be over, but my bread-making obsession continues….)

I tried to speak. Articulate. Make sense. But, I was saying a lot of nothing. He started expressing himself…Despair. Shame. White Privilege. How are we still here? Where had he gone wrong?

Yes.

That was it. How are we still here? And, where had I gone wrong?

I started sharing with him my deep-seated shame. My upbringing in a racially divided city – the one that hosted the heinous Rodney King incident – with extremely intolerant parents. My vow – at a very young age – to fight the injustice. The hate. The fear and violence. I was going to be on the front line.

How did I get so off-track? And, how has absolutely nothing changed since the 1992 Los Angeles Riots? Since the last several hundred years?

We – my peers and I – were supposed to be smart and powerful and determined – make the difference. Be the change.

My friend reminded me that there are many, many people in this country that Black Lives don’t Matter to.

Right.

I shared with him the number of books on race that were being special ordered through the Bee Hive – and throughout the country. Distributors have not been able to meet the demand. Which is amazing.

“But”, I said, “Now is not the time to read! We’ve got to take action!”

He laughed at me. “Says the book store owner.”

Another person told me that I need to be like a grain a sand. And meditate my way through this.

There have been many things in my life that I have tried to take the grain of sand approach to. And, I truly do believe, in a lot of cases, it is the way to go. But, I am not evolved enough to be a grain of sand in this moment. And, honestly, I feel like right now we’ve got to be talking. To each other. Our families. As James Baldwin said, “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” Man – we have A LOT to face. And own up to. We have been turning the other cheek for a long, long time. Shouldn’t we be working hard to create a shift? Rather then this just being a moment – this is an opportunity to be  a collective Movement – for long-overdue lasting change.

“And, there is the shame. That which has lived with me for my lifetime.”

So. How?

Personally, I am not leading any rallies, or changing any laws, or making any speeches. Damn it.

And, there is the shame. That which has lived with me for my lifetime.

What do I do? Where do I go from here?

Once again…

My attention goes to my kids.

My friend, the-discussion-over-bread one, suggested that, because of white privilege, it is impossible for white kids to be colorblind.

Ugh. That is something I am still mulling over…

I do know that my daughter knows more about black history at this point then I do. And, that she has read so many books from such a variety of different people’s perspectives that she has developed a fascination and respect, rather then fear or discrimination, for people who don’t look, or speak, or have the same background as she does. I have huge admiration for her scope of perspective at age 12.

My son’s idea of a crew of gods would be the NBA. He studies the players – not just their strengths on the court – but where they come from, their backgrounds, and family histories. He LOVES THEM. And knows, probably more then he should, about the good and the not-so-good, of a lot of the players personal lives. Cash’s bottom bunk is a cave – a shrine – to African American athletic power and beauty.

A long-time music fan (see #7 – The Rock History Schooling Of A Seven-Year-Old) at the age of ten, Cash plays the Blues on the piano; is a fan of old-school Hip Hop (just like his mom); and I recently introduced him to John Coltrane. He was smitten at first listen to A Love Supreme. He is now super-into learning as much as he can about the history of jazz.

His favorite grown up friend is Black.

As I write this, I feel like a white person making concessions for years of complacency,  Well, my kid likes basketball and has black friends!

And, yet.

I do feel that raising anti-racist kids — or raising kids to be people who see us all as just…human — is possibly the strongest super power in our arsenal.

Familiarity. Respect. Knowledge. Admiration. Openness. Understanding. Curiosity. Aren’t these the things that nurture a feeling of equality? Of Love? Of Oneness?

The unknown creates fear. Which seems to, in turn, create raging hate – that continues to be passed down from generation to generation.

Knowledge is Power. And, in my experience, is the only thing that breaks cycles.

A couple of months ago, my daughter and I were having dinner together. We were discussing the characteristics of the different generations that have come before hers. She asked me what distinguishing characteristics make up her generation – Generation Z. I said that I didn’t think there was enough to go on quite yet for there to be any discerning factors.

She replied, “Maybe we will be the generation that changes the world.”

I didn’t tell Olive this, but – I am planning on it, actually.

I want my kids to be living in a world that they are proud of.

One that reflects how they, right now, see people of color. With love, equity, and awe.

But mostly…

I want them to be badass warriors.

That have no shame.

 

(This post is dedicated to my friend, and all those friends, who are helping us get through the muck that is this moment in time. Thank goodness we are all in it together. May our conversations continue…🧡)

 

 

#39 – Saving Lives

May 13, 2020 /

The last few weeks have been a blur of filling orders, and, answering math questions.

And, trying to stay present while doing both, usually, at the same time.

As the rest of the world, the Bee Hive, and my kids’ schooling, look nothing like they did back in the beginning of March.

The website that I implemented last summer – with the intention of it helping the Bee Hive come back from the downturn of 2018 and 2019 – has helped sustain the store during the Pandemic of 2020. (There have been many outpourings of gratitude to Bookmanager – the Canadian company that created Bee Hive’s awesome website and ingenious ordering system – over the phone, recently.) However, going from pretty much completely a brick-and-mortar store – to pretty much a completely online store – pretty much over night – has not been without its challenges.

The kids distant learning in the background has truly added to the kookiness of it all…

There have been orders that have been duplicated. Skipped. Charged twice. Forgotten. Remembered!

I feel now, into week ten, I am getting it down! This online stuff.

And, I have been truly fortunate to be able to see some of Bee Hive’s customers – from a good six feet apart or so – when they have been by to pick up their orders. To exchange love and support.

(Man, I sure miss you all…)

“There have been orders that have been duplicated. Skipped. Charged twice. Forgotten. Remembered!”

And, while the online ordering and social distancing go against what a community-oriented business trying to encourage connection among us humans is all about – the Bee Hive is being sustained – in a very minimal sort of way. It is all I can ask for in this moment in time. And, every single night before I go to sleep – I say a prayer. For another day.

The distance learning on the other hand….

Well, there are the math questions. But, also, the frustration. Sadness. Anger. Disappointment. Confusion. Loneliness and feelings of isolation. The hours of screen time. Just…painful.

At this point, things are starting to open back up again.

God, I would love nothing more then for the world to get back to “normal”. To run an independent kids’ bookstore with events and customers in the store, browsing, and chatting. Connecting. To hold our writing workshops this summer. And, have all the things happen in Santa Fe that bring all those wonderful free-spending visitors to town who love the Bee Hive, and who’s love for it boost it during the summer months.

Except.

I really need Cash and Olive to be able to go back to school.

I mean, honestly, even with the taking care of orders and answering math questions at the same time – I could selfishly have my kids with me all the time. I love their company. Even when it is angsty. (I believe that I have mentioned in this blog that my daughter is 12…)

But. They so need their friends. And, their activities. Their sports. And, the lives that are all theirs. The ones away from me that are spawning them into the gorgeous humans that they are blossoming into.

I am hopeful that the Bee Hive’s lovely customers and community will continue to use the website to get the books they need. And, be okay with curbside pick-up. For now.

Because, no matter who says it is safe when – I will continue to stay closed until it is clear that the Bee Hive opening back up again would not be a part of the problem.

And, would not aid in prolonging our kids in any way, from going back to school.

And, their worlds.

There are many approaches to saving lives in our crazy world as it stands now.

I am voting firmly for the one that will get our kids back to their tribes.

Back to each other.

As soon as possible.

 

 

 

#38 – More

April 9, 2020 /

The news, the universe, this moment. Is more surreal. Unbearable. Confusing. Heartbreaking. Painful. Difficult. Tragic. Not – of this world.

My inclination, more and more, is to look ahead. Beyond. Into the future. To wonder. Speculate. Worry.

When – more then ever – I need to stay here. Right now. Present. Focused. Adapting. Accepting.

My patience is more apt to be tested.

My daughter’s 12-year-oldness, more supremely annoying. (Has she always been this annoying?)

My son’s frustration more…uncomfortable.

I am – more – tried. To the bone.

And, yet.

The breeze blowing through my open window is more – symbolic. Of Spring. Movement. Freedom. Open-ness. Connection – to the outside world.

The view from the top of Sun Mountain is more clear. Sparkly. Still. The glimpse from above of the school campus my daughter will be attending next year more a vision of hope. A symbol of a new beginning. A time – different – from right now.

“The breeze blowing through my open window is more – symbolic. Of Spring. Movement. Freedom. Open-ness. Connection – to the outside world.”

The unspecific meals we’ve been eating and the basics that fill my cabinets – beans, rice, oatmeal – feel more like a beautiful abundant bounty.

The melodic music on my playlists touches my soul more – sharply. And yet, like a balm.

Virginia Woolf – To The Lighthouse – which I am reading to discuss with friends – is more profound. Perfect. Brilliant. Even more so then when I first read it in college. And, was in desperate need of Virginia Woolf and her stylistic writing, thinking, and strength in her subtle, yet powerful and important observations. About human relations. The intellect. And this life. Our life.

Those friends – who I am discussing Virginia Woolf with – our sisterhood of four – are more of a softer place to land. Through email, text, and Zoom – we validate each other, support one another, and hold space for our challenges and beautiful moments. The connection, more then what I could have imagined when we unexpectedly discovered our bond one memorable night out together.

I feel Bee Hive is more important. Necessary. Relevant. Then ever. To be of service to the community that has supported and loved the store – more of a gift then ever during a time when libraries and schools are closed. Each day that my distributors continue to ship books and UPS and Fed Ex continue to deliver them – more of a sigh of relief. Though I continue to hold my breath. And hope. And pray. More.

Though it is quiet, everywhere. My rare and precious moments of peace and stillness are, more and more, the restoration that keeps me going. To stop referreeing. Reinventing. Restructuring. Reasoning. Rolling with it. To put my guard down. Stop washing my hands. Moving out of the way of others. And, being in constant protection mode of my children, the Bee Hive, myself, and the world that once was. That place. That place of calm. Is what fuels me. For more.

And, more. Gratitude. For the opportunity to go another round. After this one. Because, there will be another round. I have no idea what it will look like. Or, when it will be. Or, how we will get there.

But, my thought is – it will be…

More.

 

 

 

 

#37 – This Moment

March 24, 2020 /

I very much am of the belief that what we focus on – is what makes up our world. Our reality. This moment in time is completely of our own creation.

And so…

I have been having the extremely uncharacteristic urge to watch Christmas movies.

And read Jane Austin books. (Ah – the world of muddled love somehow magically becoming un-muddled. With basically no communication at all…)

And bake. I have a freezer full of blueberry muffins, banana bread, and granola. And, I am obsessed with somehow getting my hands on long-ago grabbed up yeast and flour. So, I can bake more. Or, at least, have it on hand…You know just in case, we are in sudden need of preparing for a tea party. Or something.

My dance parties have become parties of one. To the likes of Simple Minds, Liz Phair, and Smashing Pumpkins – music from another lifetime. And, yet, having  the effect of a warm embrace. And, a total release at the same time.

Olive, Cash, and I have been losing ourselves in The Golden Compass. A strange and beautiful modern-day fantasy classic – in which an evil woman is trying to steal children’s detached souls (in the form of ever-changing animals) and ferocious bears fight one another to the death for the role of king. An other-worldly story that I have, at times, while reading out-loud, transported myself to. Surrounding myself with the competent and brave heroes.

“This moment in time is completely of our own creation.”

The elegant notes of Vivaldi and Pachelbel float through my house as my daughter works on Spring, Largo, and Pachelbel Cannon on her violin. I ask Olive every day after her practice, when she is getting ready to pack up  – ‘Please, one more time?’ It is so lovely…like a riot of airy colors…flowers…laughter. Joy.

The Bee Hive is stocked and anticipating the influx of spring break visitors from Texas, Colorado, California, New York. The street is quiet though. The neighborhood deserted. But, if I put music on and don’t look out the windows too much – I can be in there filling orders and having phone conversations with customers and doing book fairy work. And, it can feel like…the Bee Hive is alive. And well.

It is magical…the worlds we are able to create with what we decide to focus on. We are the gods of our universe. If we choose.

I believe it is why I have been so obsessed with books my whole life. They – along with music, cooking, and adventures – have saved me. From what could have otherwise taken me down.

Let’s be smart and do the right thing to keep everyone well. And safe.

But then…

Let’s save ourselves.

And do what it takes to bring a reality into focus full of comfort and ease.

And wonderment.

And beauty.

 

 

 

 

 

#36 – The not-as-bad-as-the-flu-but-yet-way-worse Virus

March 12, 2020 /

So…I was a little late to this party. For sure.

Due to my several months-long news boycott, I can’t say I even know when it all started. What I do know is when I figured it might be a good idea to get some hand sanitizer for the store – and I went to six places – it was long wiped out. The sales associates at CVS and Walgreens looked at me like I was an alien when I asked if they were expecting more in.

I have started reading the news again. I was a journalist in my past life and I do realize (although somewhat reluctantly) that my simply ignoring it will not change the state of the world.

However, it wasn’t newspapers that have made me understand the extent of the destruction that could be the fallout of the whatever this not-as-bad-as-the-flu-but-yet-way-worse virus is (I am utterly mystified by the whole thing). It was a book industry trade publication where I read about a Mercer Island – just off of Seattle – book store that is facing closure due to the coronavirus, that painted a clear picture of what we are up against. And then the fact that Italy has called that all businesses be closed.

At times of disaster and destruction, it has been shown that humanity can truly band together as one. Hurricane Katrina and several hurricanes in Texas have proven to be amazing demonstrations of beautiful heroics that erased any sort of discriminatory class and color lines, and saved countless lives.

“During this nutty, uncharted, anxious, social-distancing moment in time, I am going to choose to see it as, Us all being in it together.”

It is these moments that show that at the end of the day – we are all in this together.

Right?

So, I was telling my mail carrier — Who I discuss all important current events with. He kept me in the loop during my news cleanse — how I could not find one bottle of hand sanitizer. Not one. He explained that he had been delivering boxes and boxes of sanitizer and surface wipes and paper towels to people on his route for weeks. The same people! “They’re hoarding them!” he yelled.

Good lord.

Ok – so hoarders aside. During this nutty, uncharted, anxious, social-distancing moment in time, I am going to choose to see it as, Us all being in it together. And, I am going to make a plea….

Bee Hive has an awesome website – you can order any book at all off of it to be either picked up at the store – but if it gets to a certain point and you don’t want to come to the store – which I take no offense from – we will mail your books to you, or whomever the receiver (at the lowest possible rate – or possibly free depending on how many books).
Another thought is, if there is a book you know you are going to want, that is going to be released in the future – you can pre-order it! Your paying for it during this time, could be a huge help. And then you will have it as soon as it is out.

At this point, Bee Hive has gotten through more then I can say – all of which you have been privy to. I am not afraid of the coronavirus. Sure, Bee Hive has persevered partly because of my sometimes choosing to turn a blind eye to reality (news boycott = case in point), but also, because of you – this awesome, wonderful, beautiful community that loves Bee Hive as much as it truly loves you.

And, not only are we all in this together.

But, perhaps, we can read away the anxiety and isolation.

Books and stories make everything okay. Always.

 

 

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