WordSisters

Author: Ellen Shriner

  • Lifelong Friends

    After nearly five months of studying abroad in Spain, my youngest son returned, speaking Spanish like a pro, with his head full of the many sights he’d seen and the experiences he had. The culture shock of being back in the U.S. wasn’t what was hardest for Greg; rather, it was the realization that he will rarely see the many friends he made in the study abroad program—they live scattered all over the U.S.

    Greg and friends in Spain
    Greg and friends in Spain

    Together, they endured the stress of being lost and clueless in a foreign city. They had the pleasure of discovering Roman ruins, Moorish palaces, Mediterranean beaches, and amazing meals. They stayed in sketchy hostels and traveled hungover on smelly buses. They saw each other at their worst and liked each other anyhow.

    “Don’t worry. You’ll see them again,” my oldest son reassured him.  About a month ago, Mike had been in Los Angeles on business where he reunited with several friends he’d made when he studied in Italy three years ago. Over breakfast, Mike and his friends traded stories about the Real Jobs they’ve acquired and caught up on who’s seeing whom. But more importantly, they didn’t take themselves too seriously—they never have.

    Mike and friends in Italy
    Mike and friends in Italy

    “You’ll be surprised how easy it is to pick right up where you left off,” he said.

    I added, “There’s no reason you can’t be friends for life. The person you are in your 20’s is your essential self—you and your friends will still be those people 30 years from now.”

    I can speak from experience. Several weeks ago, I met up with three friends I’ve known since I was in my 20’s: Pam, Rich and Sue (husband and wife). Together, we experienced the culture shock of moving from decent-sized cities to a small college town on the prairie. We muddled through our first full-time teaching jobs in a dysfunctional English department. We entertained ourselves by creating musical alter egos—a girl band called Pam and the Pamettes who were managed by Señor Grif, a.k.a. Rich. We planned spicy Mexican potlucks to heat up the long Minnesota winters. We shared poetry, short stories, and complaints.

    More than 30 years later, we are the same in all of the important ways. Although I haven’t seen Rich and Sue in more than 10 years, the four of us were immediately at ease with each other. We’re still true-blue liberals, who love art, good books and good food.

    Pam, Rich and Sue
    Pam, Rich and Sue

    As the antidote to a sobering conversation about coping with aging parents, Rich pretended to be a character called the Know-It-All Guy whose job is giving extemporaneous lectures (i.e., making up stuff about silver mining or the habits of dolphins). We laughed till our stomachs hurt. Pam and Rich riffed about the K-I-A Guy for days while Sue rolled her eyes and I egged them on—exactly the kind of silly fun we’ve always had.

    I’m grateful to have these lifelong friends gracing my life.  With any luck, my sons will have lifelong friendships like these, too.

  • 5 Things I’ve Learned About Writing Blogs (Reflections at the One-year Anniversary of WordSisters)

    May 31st marks the one-year anniversary of WordSisters. Yippee! We’re still going strong. All two of us. 

    MP900341653Here are some discoveries I’ve made –

    1. Total strangers follow WordSisters. This still amazes and delights me. I figured 20 or so of our friends and family members might read the blog out of curiosity and loyalty. But we now have dozens of followers, many of whom came to us through the magic of the Interwebs and social media. How cool is that?!? Thanks for reading!
    2. Writing a blog is good discipline. Every other week when it’s my turn to blog, I have to write something. Sometimes I’m excited about it. Sometimes I’m lukewarm. But either way, I’m committed to doing this (and I can’t let Beth down), so I write. That’s a lot of blank screens. That’s a lot of words, thoughts, and stories. That’s 26 times per year that I have shared something I hoped would make you smile or think. Your comments and Likes tell us we’re succeeding.
    3. Writing a blog is different from writing a personal essay (beyond the obvious differences such as links, tags, and visuals). With the personal essays I hope to publish, I may revise 8-10 times during the course of a year or two as I refine what I’m trying to say. I think hard about meaning and style. But with blog posts, which are often meant to be timely reactions to current events, I don’t have the luxury of being so meticulous. I write more quickly and hope to get down the essence of what I want to say. I have to accept that good enough is good enough. As a former writing teacher who now writes for a living, it’s hard to let go of perfectionism. But I’ve learned that if I’m not completely satisfied with a post, well, better luck next time!
    4. I love the power of self-publishing! I love that if we think a topic or piece is worthy of your attention, we can simply put it out there.
    5. By blogging regularly, I’m creating a body of work. I hadn’t thought of this, but blogger Dan Blank had, and he wrote a guest post on Jane Friedman’s website about publishing. I think he’s right. Our blog style and content is still evolving, but looking back I can see how we each have distinctive voices and certain themes recur.

    Going forward, we hope to invite other writers to post on WordSisters and we want to make it easier to find past posts.

    Thanks for coming along for the ride!Beautiful Fireworks

  • Labor of Love

    Last September, my oldest son carried the last of his boxes to his car, hugged me goodbye and drove off to greet his future. He was moving across town, not across the country, but I was not fooled into thinking it was a minor move. He was launched and not likely to live with us again. I was proud, happy, and sad.

    My husband, in a fit of cleaning and reorganizing our now-empty nest, brought a box of fabric down from the attic. Inside were remnants from the baby quilt I made our oldest along with the design I drew, and the calculations I made before cutting out the pieces. The pattern was simple: soft periwinkle blue and white cotton triangles joined to make rectangles with dark red grosgrain ribbon running diagonally along the seams where the triangles joined. The rectangles were set in a butter yellow border. I’d never made a quilt before and I didn’t know what I was doing—the top of the quilt turned out narrower than the bottom—but it didn’t matter. I did the best I could and learned as I went—like so much of mothering.

    Three days before he was born, I was still stitching it. My back ached that dark winter morning, and every time I stood up and stretched over the dining room table to pin a piece, my water leaked a little but I didn’t recognize the signs of his impending arrival.Mike Quilt

    Twenty-three years later, I’m well aware of the signs of his arrival at adulthood, and I see the symmetry in the beginning and ending of this phase of active motherhood.

    Fabric scraps and design notes from our youngest son’s baby quilt were also in the box. He had recently returned to college, a less permanent departure. One side of his quilt has pink, blue, lavender and gold birds flying across a field of aqua. I was immediately drawn to the fabric I found in Victoria, British Columbia while I lumbered around seven months pregnant during our last family vacation before my youngest arrived. Greg Quilt

    The other side of his quilt has a white center that’s bordered by strips of lavender and pink. I hand stitched the outlines of the imaginary birds and butterflies in colored threads against the white. I indulged in this artistic moment during a garage sale we held before moving to a house roomy enough for two boys—by then, I’d learned to enjoy the moments of grace that occasionally occur during the mundane—the essence of motherhood.

    Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mommas out there.