Sunday, March 27th 2011

Greetings on this gloriously sunny morning,

Please remember that this Tuesday being the fifth in the month, there will be no luncheon. However, we will be having an Open House from noon until 1:30 pm for anyone who would like to bring their brown bag lunch. Of course, we will have tea and coffee available for all. You could also see this as an opportunity to bring your spouse or best friend along for a free lunch! Tickets will be available to purchase for the Fisher home event. There are only sixty seats available so do not delay!

Beautiful on a Budget

Fashion Show and Tea

 Thursday, April 28 2011, 2:30 p.m.

Munson Library

Also - please vote – how else can our town officials represent us?

This past week I have done two things that betray my old fashioned upbringing and seem to be rare in the younger generations. The first was to send a handwritten note. I chose the paper with care, to be sure that it was appropriate to the occasion. Then I wrote slowly and carefully so that it would be legible to someone who is unaccustomed to my handwriting, little improved since my days in Junior school when my teacher would mark my handwriting exercise with 'Could be neater' or 'Only fair'.

I have a box in which I keep old letters, cards and notes that have special significance to me.

Occasionally I take them out and read them, remembering the occasion and author, and noting how the choice of paper and the handwriting reflect both of these. I treasure this set of memories and would be sad if I were to lose them.

The younger generation may never know this experience in their culture of instant messaging and communication. Text messaging allows them to use a code of letters and numbers to type short phrases at amazing speeds for instant delivery – almost like having a conversation. But there is no lasting record of the exchange. Even email messages like this one, although grammatically correct and set out in neat paragraphs, have only their style of writing to illustrate the author's character and intent. A significant message can, of course, be kept on file, in a Folder called 'To be kept' or some such, or even printed out and retained in an old fashioned filing cabinet or box. But I would argue that for significant personal correspondence, there is nothing to compare to the centuries old paper-and-pen method.

My second project was to embroider a monogram on a linen bath towel. I recently discovered the joy of using old, handwoven linen towels and have passed all my modern fluffy toweling ones to Roger. I love the smooth texture of the linen and marvel at how much water it can absorb before becoming noticeably damp. I think of the hours spent weaving the thread and hand knotting the fine fringe at each end.

Some of my old towels already have the initials of their owner, carefully embroidered in the finest of thread, each towel displaying a different font. For myself, I chose an intricate but delicate set from Mrs. Beeton's Book of Needlework, published posthumously in 1870.

Why bother? I think the answer is threefold: continuing the custom pays homage to the anonymous weaver who put so many hours into creating it; it looks pretty; and I get great pleasure out of working such short, delicate projects. 

But perhaps there is also a deeper connection to the past. My great grandmother was a seamstress, making ladies' dresses in the late nineteenth century when each dress was a marvel of tucks and ruffles and endless yards of fabric, fitted like a second skin to the wearer. From her, my grandmother learned many of these skills.

My grandmother, 1896

My grandmother had left school at the age of twelve to go into service, cleaning, washing and mending in one of the large, prosperous homes near to the centre of Liverpool. She had taken these sewing skills with her, learnt at her mother's knee, and after she married and had children of her own she passed them on to her daughter, my mother. When I was a child, my mother and grandmother would look closely at beautiful children's clothing in the expensive stores, then return home and copy them for me to wear. Without realizing it, from some sort of osmosis, I myself gradually absorbed many of these skills. Some were taught to me. I can still remember, for instance, my grandmother teaching me the correct way to iron a handkerchief, folding it just so,


in order that the completed kerchief would be beautifully square, with the embroidered initial positioned exactly in the center of the square.
When doing embroidery the back of the fabric had to look as neat as the front – a skill I never quite mastered. 

Do these old skills have any relevance in today's world? Certainly, modern technology has changed our lives in ways that are wonderful. There simply is not enough time to teach or learn all of the information that my generation was taught, and add on to that all the modern skills that are needed to live in our modern world. Today has to take precedence over yesterday, and no one would want to go back to the 'good old days'. However, I do believe that some skills can still be relevant and valuable and perhaps the task is best assigned to grandparents who often have more leisure time with children, when each generation can impart to the other the specialties of their individual worlds.

But now I have to go – the dishwasher is beeping at me that it has completed its cycle……

Vivienne.

Sunday, March 20th 2011

This Tuesday will be our annual opportunity to hear from the agencies who have received funds from Love Notes. Please come and show them how much we appreciate all that they do in our community. Usually this event is hosted by our Vice President, but in Hub's absence, Ellen will be taking over for the day. Speaking of whom, Hub has graciously agreed to postpone his presidency by one year so that he can first concentrate on reaching a full recovery. We will roll out the red carpet for him when he takes the helm in 2012-13.

While listening last week to D.A. Dave Sullivan, I was struck by his bringing to our attention the total lack of looting in the devastated areas of Japan. He suggested that this was due in large part to their sense of respect for each other and the community. This set me thinking to why it is sadly unlikely that this would have been the case in almost any other country, even here in the States.

I think the answer may lie in great part at the very basic philosophy of our two cultures. Our country was formed very recently in the scale of things. From the beginning it attracted free thinkers who found themselves unable to adhere to the rigid rules of religion and politics that were current in their society. Here, the emphasis was on the rights of the individual to make their own decisions and live the life of their choice. To this day, our children learn that the great American dream is theirs for the taking if they apply themselves, take advantage of opportunity, and work hard. In truth, that is how I find myself living such a fulfilling and wonderful life surrounded by friends and good fortune. I had strokes of good luck, to be sure, but I also worked hard to achieve all that I could.

In contrast, Japanese society places great emphasis on the role of the individual as being a small part of a much greater whole. 

Teamwork and identification with the larger group is emphasized from childhood when little ones begin their first day of school wearing identical clothes and carrying identical school bags.

 During a stay in Tokyo some years ago, I would watch from my hotel room as the office workers in the adjoining building all leapt up from their desks at eight o'clock each morning. It was clear that music was being piped throughout the building, as on all floors I could see them all performing the same calisthenic exercises together. 

In the parks old people would gather together to perform their daily Tai Chi, moving silently and fluidly through the gestures, in perfect harmony together. 

Eating out with Japanese women friends, we would all choose the same thing from the menu, expressing our friendship and group identification.

Of course, there are no simple answers to any of life's questions, and no easy remedy for any societal problem. It impossible to compare two cultures and explain how single aspects of one may be adopted by the other. Japanese culture has evolved through countless ages with, for much of its history, little to no immigration or influence from the outside world to introduce new ideas and philosophies. A sweeping statement, to be sure, but in general terms it holds true. America prides itself on its diversity and freedom of choice for each individual. It is a difficult task indeed to marry individuality with the role of  group member; to respect the rights of others without compromising one's own choices.

In times gone by, here in South Amherst, the farming community would regularly help out in times of need. 

The way of life relied on group participation, whether it be a barn raising or helping neighbors harvest crops or give children a ride to school on the milk cart. Now we pride ourselves on being able to fend for ourselves and many of us do not even know our neighbors other than to wave from the car while driving by.  

Is that good – or bad? Is life better – or worse? Are we happier – or not? 

I think all the answers are both 'yes' and 'no'. But I do think it sad that we wonder and comment on the lack of looting around Sendai. There must be a message there somewhere.

Sunday, March 13th 2011

A rather late Sunday greeting to you all,

May I remind you that this Tuesday we will hear from Dave Sullivan, our district D.A. I am sure that we'll learn some interesting facts about out judicial system – which I hope none of us have been on the receiving end of – except for the few brave souls who willingly let themselves be arrested while campaigning for civil rights. To them, I tip my hat.

We treated ourselves to breakfast at Esselon's this morning, where we arranged to meet some friends.

Our conversation touched on the ways in which our lifestyles have changed since our youth. One of the major differences revolves around the presence or absence of public transport. All through my childhood and youth we relied on public transport and the mile-long walk to the bus stop was considered merely a short walk down the road. At the stop we would come across neighbours with whom we would chat while waiting for the bus. Local news and family updates would be exchanged and in this way people kept in touch with the comings and goings in the area. Although we rarely ventured inside eachother's houses, this was Britain and the land of formal relationships!, nevertheless we knew our neighbours and were always available in times of need. Not only that, we also remained fit and active, walking in all weathers to the general stores and carrying heavy shopping bags on a regular basis.

29 Ryegate Rd., Liverpool

Southbank Rd. Primary School, Liverpool

As children, we walked to school alone from an early age with no thought of personal safety. Later, when I attended high school, I had to catch two buses, which I did alone even in the depths of winter when darkness had fallen by the time school ended.

Aigburth Vale High School for Girls

 I well remember one day when a thick smog had descended throughout Liverpool. This was in the days before the Clean Air Act, when most people burnt coal fires as their main source of heating and there would be occasions when the smog was so dense that all the buses stopped running. School ended early and we all had to walk home, for me that was about five miles. We would place a white handkerchief – an essential part of any young girl's wardrobe – over our mouth and nose and keep it in place by wrapping our long school scarf around our heads.

By the time I arrived home and removed the handkerchief, it was coated with a layer of a black tarry substance that would otherwise have made its way into my bronchial tubes. However, as the three adult members of my household all smoked cigarettes, and we burnt an open coal fire, I do wonder how it is that my lungs are still perfectly healthy and functioning.

When I look back at old school photos I am struck by how skinny we all were. The same is evident in the old photos in the recently published book 'Harvesting History', which tells the story of farms here in Amherst since the year 1700. Although the way of life in the 'good old days' leaves much to be desired, yet this aspect of incorporating exercise into the normal daily routine was a great deal more healthy than our present day occasional car ride to the gym. I can't help but think it a a shame that the distance between our homes and the lack of sidewalks makes it so difficult to walk along the street and engage in conversation with our neighbours. After all, human interaction is, for many of us, what makes life worth living and for those who exist in comparative isolation, loneliness can be the biggest problem that they have to deal with.

Well, I hope that our weekly club lunches allow us to enjoy each other's company to the full, and that for members who are unable to attend, these weekly messages let you know that you are not forgotten.

Best,

Vivienne

Sunday, March 6th 2011

This week's speaker will be addressing a vital topic – he is Ray Bradley, University Distinguished Professor in the Department of Geosciences and Director of the Climate System Research Center, talking about climate change. His entry in the UMass faculty list says, 

"My interests are in climate variability across a wide range of time scales. I’m particularly interested in how present day climate differs from climates in the past, and what may have caused climates to change."

I am looking forward to hearing what he has to say with a kind of dread in as much as the news is obviously bad, but also with hope that we still have time to turn the tables and learn to live in a way that will be much gentler on our planet.

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It has been so gratifying to see what terrific attendance we have been having at lunch despite the long months of wintry weather. Take heart – spring really will soon be here – at least most of the ice has melted, even on my north facing pathway.  And Phyllis has more terrific speakers lined up for our enjoyment and edification.

                                                                                                                                 

Looking ahead to spring, this Tuesday will be Mardi Gras/Fasching Dienstag/
Pancake Tuesday/Carnival/Shrove Tuesday……..call it what you will, in the Christian church it was traditionally regarded as a day to let your hair down and enjoy yourself before the following day, Ash Wednesday, began the sombre period of Lent leading up to Easter.

When I lived in the UK we called it Pancake, or Shrove Tuesday. 'Shrove' indicating the Roman Catholic tradition of having confessed or shriven one's sins. In my house we spoke more prosaically of 'Pancake' Tuesday because we had pancakes for our evening meal. The traditional reason, dating from  at least the fifteenth century, was to eat up all the eggs and fat before embarking on the Lenten fast. I remember how I used to hurry home from school to find my grandmother busily whisking eggs to make the batter. The thick and wholesome pancake that we eat over here is quite different from the large, wafer thin 'crepe' that the Brits eat. 
                                    

The art of tossing the pancake in the pan in order to cook the second side is a skill that takes many attempts to master, and I can still feel the frisson of nervous anticipation while I was waiting for Nanny to allow me to have a go. Once the pile of pancakes keeping warm in the oven was deemed sufficiently tall to satisfy us all, my grandfather and mother would join us at the table and we would sprinkle the crepes with lemon juice and sugar, then roll them up to eat. Even since coming to live here in the US of A, I have continued to uphold the tradition – so Roger will be sure to come promptly to the table on Tuesday evening as he knows the treat that will be awaiting him.

In 1978 I lived for one year in Germany, in a tiny village at the foothills of the Schwabian Alps.

I had not heard of the German 'Fasching Dienstag' or 'Carnival Tuesday' but when my young son came home from school one day to announce that he needed to wear fancy dress on the next Monday we set to and turned him into a pirate, complete with parrot on his shoulder, thanks to a stuffed sock and some brightly colored felt wings and feathers. 






 The following Tuesday was a school holiday so I took both boys to the nearby town of Ulm, where we decided that we would begin by visiting the fourteenth century cathedral.


Naturally, we rose to the challenge and clambered up 768 steps to the top of the steeple, the highest church steeple in the world – yes, friends, we were young and fit in those days. Imagine our surprise and delight when, just as we re-emerged from the tower, a parade was passing by. It was much later that I learnt that this was a traditional way of celebrating Fasching, with fancy dress, merriment and music. At that moment, it was as though it had taken shape especially to entertain us and we watched mesmerized as group after group of brightly clad revelers passed by against the backdrop of beautifully preserved medieval buildings. Such memories are so precious!

This year, I plan to watch the New Orleans celebrations on TV. Now there's a culture that knows how to party!

I can't promise pancakes for lunch on Tuesday, but I can promise good company, good friendship and good conversation. I look forward to seeing you then.

Best

Vivienne

Sunday, February 26th 2011

My goodness, is it really Sunday again already? How time flies.

Unbelievably, next Tuesday will be the first day of March, a month of five Tuesdays. On the fifth one, as usual, we will not be meeting at Hickory Ridge. However, Roger and I will be home and happy to welcome any of you who would like to bring a brown bag lunch. As always at the beginning of the month, there will be a board meeting after lunch this week.

Our speaker this week will be Todd Cromack, who is in the process of re-establishing an Amherst branch of the International Association of Lions Clubs. Please come if you can, to show our support for another local organization. I am wondering if some of the students who are members of his Junior Lions Club at UMass might like to wait on tables at our fashion show. I don't know about you, but my days of steady hands when carrying cups or pouring tea are long over. Perhaps this would be an ideal opportunity for our clubs to help each other. Do you agree?

I have been spending quite some time this past week pouring over books about interior decorating in a quest to choose the ideal color scheme for our bedroom. The 'safe' off-white throughout the house is becoming monotonous and I am seeking a warmer, sleepier feel in the bedroom. There is nothing more frustrating than knowing that two family members are dead to the world in total disregard for the insomniac beside them, as neither Roger 

nor Chestnut have the decency to share my sleepless vigil!

These books contain lots of information about warm and cool colors, advancing and receding effects, use of the color wheel and textures, all of which leave me more confused and uncertain than ever. I think that I may fare better by simply looking in glossy magazines until I find a picture of a room that I like and simply copying it. As you can see, I have little confidence or creativity when it comes to such things.

All these efforts have led me to think about great artists and their gifts: were they born that way; do they see the world with a color palette that is much more enhanced than mine; are they more aware of shapes and shadows; how did their drawing skills advance beyond the level of a five year old: was that by hard work and attention to detail or did it just happen?

Why, do you think, did Caravaggio go for all that chiaroscuro stuff, or how did Bellini manage to achieve such incredible three dimensional effects with holy figures gathered under archways?

Would they have wanted to paint that way no matter what era they had been born in – or at least painted modern subjects but with that type of treatment? If Kandinsky had been born a little over two hundred years earlier, would he have been so held back by Gainsborough's prissy portraits that he would have become a chimney sweep instead? 

If Renoir had been born this century would he have been equally fascinated by the female form as a model of voluptuous beauty, or would he have seen so many anorexic models that he completely lost interest?

Aahh – so many deep questions and so few answers. Meanwhile, I am thinking that green would be very restful – or would I feel that I was sleeping inside a cabbage……?

Hey ho – see you on Tuesday.