NOTES ON FAMILY: continuation

3.

           On Saturday mornings Betty and Jon like to go to Kopi Café on Clark.  They started doing this a number of years ago and now it has become a tradition to go and see everyone and catch up.  Not everyone goes every week.  Sometimes there are ten of us, sometimes four, sometimes just two.  This past summer the four of us (Sonia, Myra, Betty, and me) were there on the same Saturday morning and took a photo I have titled “the four muses.” This photo turned out to be the last one we would take with Sonia.               

            In 2006, fifteen of us traveled to Greece to celebrate Sonia’s 60^th birthday.  It was her idea; she organized and planned everything down to the last detail.  We all flew separately and met in Athens, then rode in two vans to Olympia.  My mother and hers came too.  We stopped at a winery along the way where she had organized a tour and luncheon.  In Olympia we checked in the Best Western – a marvelous hotel – and ran around like teenagers looking at each other’s rooms.  In the evening we sat in the garden restaurant and had drinks, ate supper.  The next day we took a tour of the ruins of the place where the Olympics were born and took another photo on the same spot.

                                                                             4.

           Sonia, Myra, and I met in the theater   We were actresses.  Sort of.  We joined a Greek director who had just arrived in Chicago in the early 1970s and wanted to perform plays for the Greek community.  It must have been 1972 or 73 when I went for an audition after hearing a radio announcement calling for anyone who was interested, no experience necessary.  

          In this way we spent every Saturday together, rehearsing, going out to dinner, drinking late into the night.  We were a big hit with the Greeks and performed our plays – modern Greek comedies mostly – at the Lane Tech auditorium, the Davis Theater, North Park College auditorium, and even went on tour to Northern Indiana in the summers.  This was the beginning. 

          Since then, others have joined our family.  A few new friends – Betty, Claire, Richard, Margie, Sandy – and a few husbands as well.  There have been college graduations, weddings, divorces, illnesses, big events and small, quotidian occasions.  Through them all we have remained close.  And for me who had no real family to speak of in Chicago, they have been my rock, my support, everything, especially Sonia.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

WRITE IN ITHACA, GREECE

      The Homeric Writers' Retreat & Workshop On The Greek Isle Of Ithaca

                                                                  August 1 - 7, 2013

Ithaca is a writer’s haven.  It remains unspoiled by the modern world. Even in the height of summer you can find a secluded beach or a rustic corner to contemplate your thoughts. On Ithaca you'll discover the island’s rich culture and the reason why it holds such a special place in the hearts of those who have visited its shores

The new Homeric Writers' Retreat & Workshop invites participants to their very own private odyssey on the island of Ithaca—a retreat about riveting one's writing through an intimate Homeric journey.

To learn more about the writing retreat, please visit www.hwrw.blogspot.com.

Retreat Attendees will receive:

Expert instruction on all topics of publishing

A comprehensive critique and market recommendations for your work.

Accommodation at Nostos Hotel with buffet breakfast, two dinners and excursions

Gift hampers on arrival, filled with traditional Greek goods

Our instructors this year are, Katharine Sands, a literary agent with the Sarah Jane Freymann Literary Agency, and Beatriz Badikian-Gartler, a popular performer in the Chicago area who often lectures on women's issues, art, and literature. In 2000 Badikian was selected as one of the One-Hundred Women Who Make a Difference in Chicago by Today's Woman magazine.

Fee: 1,550 Euro per person, all-inclusive. Enjoy special Excursions, including a guided walk to Homer's School, dinners, cocktails by the sea, village sightseeing, traditional dance and festivals. The clear blue seas and lush green valleys and mountains are home to one of the friendliest communities in Greece and the new Homeric Writing Retreat!

Contact:

Retreat Director: Jessica Bell

jessica.carmen.bell@gmail.com

NOTES ON FAMILY: a beginning

NOTES ON FAMILY

            “Families come in many shapes and forms”

has become a cliché these days.

 But for me it has been true for over 40 years. 

1.

            I order a Fuji apple chicken salad and a glass of water.  The cashier says “your suggested donation is…”  I look at her.  “What does that mean?”  She explains that this is a Panera Cares establishment – one of four in the entire country – where you pay what you can afford.  If you don’t have money, you eat for free.  If you can pay more, you help someone else eat.  There is a glass box in front of the cash register where customers drop the money.  My salad is $7.67. I drop a ten dollar bill.  She thanks me and moves on to the next customer.  I sit by the wall and look around at the clientele, admiring the spirit of this place.  One of the managers walks around asking customers how they’re doing, is everything ok?  She seems to know many of them by name and they know her.  Some even hug her.  I am waiting for my friend Claire.  We’re going to see a movie later. 

            The next day, Saturday January 5^th, Claire and our group go to Sonia’s parents’ house to celebrate Sonia’s name day.  We take roasted chicken, eggplant parmigiana, desserts, folding chairs, a card table. There are 20 of us including her brother and his family.  We sit around the tables and talk, we eat and drink wine, we toast to Sonia.  A name day is similar to a birthday party but more important in the Greek culture.  This would not merit much attention except for the fact that she is no longer with us.  She left us on September 13.  Yet we come to her parents’ house to celebrate her life.  Why do we do this? Who do we do it for?  Mostly her mother but is it for us too?  For her?  We are an unusual bunch.  Some of us have been close friends for over 40 years; others came later, but we are a family, by choice, and I, for one, depend on them.  

2.

            Sonia and I often met at the Panera on Clybourn Avenue for lunch.  She introduced me to the Fuji apple chicken salad and the black bean soup.  We’d sit for a few hours and talk about everything.  It was one of her favorite places.  Once, in February 2011, we were there with another friend – Maria - when the famous blizzard came.  We met for lunch on a Tuesday and watched the weather change dramatically over a few hours.  The wind took off to astronomical speeds.  Snow started to fall and then to blow everywhere.   We watched pedestrians struggle to walk through the parking lot, to cross the street, their bags flapping wildly.  We laughed, oohed and aahed.  Eventually it was time for us to leave.  It was close to 4 o’clock and the weather forecast predicted the worse to come after four.  Sonia’s car was parked right outside but it took an Herculean effort to walk those few steps and get into the car. 

             In her parents’ living-room there is a picture from 1982.  Sonia, Myra, Betty, and I are sitting on a stone, one of the ruins at Ancient Olympia, Greece.  We wear sundresses and squint to the camera.  Is it June? July?  I found that photo several years ago in my photo box and made copies for the four of us. Now, we all have that photo in our homes.  Mine is in the dining-room, next to the telephone, in a corner.  I see it every day, all the time.  It has become a tradition to take similar photos in other places, at other times. 

            After lunch it is time to cut the basilopita, the St. Basil cake traditionally served on New Year’s Day in Greece.  Tradition has it that a coin is hidden inside and whoever gets the piece with the coin will have good fortune that year.  The cake is not very big but Myra manages to cut 21 pieces out of it – one for the house and 20 for the rest of us.  Amy gets the coin.  

(TO BE CONTINUED)

What to do, what to do...

If you're suffering from cabin fever in this insane cold and don't mind taking the EL downtown I have a suggestion: go to the Winter Garden of the Harold Washington Library.

Spacious and blue, with real trees and a huge skylight, peaceful, mostly empty, save for the stray tourist who finds her way up to the 9th floor of the library.  There are a few tables and chairs where you can sit and write and read or gaze up to the sky.  Sometimes you'll hear clicking heels or a muted voice.  If you don't know what to read, the entire collection of the library - 1 million books - is at your disposal in one of the lower floors.  

A few years ago I read some of Borges's poetry in the Garden during a celebration honoring him.  My voice echoed throughout and flew out the glass roof all the way to Buenos Aires, to Borges's house in Palermo.  Beautiful places can transport you to a different world, a different time.  

As a Chicago Greeter I always took visitors to the Winter Garden passing through the ground floor Rotunda, the labyrinthine escalators, the elevators, all the way to the top.  Visitors marveled at the vast space, the still beauty, the joy that simplicity brings to our lives.  

A good book, a quiet place: what else do you need?  

CHANGE: a writing guide

Change makes you anew, keeps you going.  When I lived in a studio apartment with a few pieces of furniture I used to change them around the one room every six months or so.  It was like moving to a new home.  This morning I moved the table and desk in my studio and now the computer sits in front of the double glass doors facing rooftops, skyline, and L tracks.  A whole new view!  A new place to write and read.  

Change your writing place every now and then.  Go out to a cafe and sit by the window and look out.  And write.  If weather permits, go to a park and sit on a bench or on the grass and look around, smell the leaves and flowers, listen to the birds or the children running or the dogs barking.  And write.  The new sensory input will stimulate your imagination.  It will give new impetus to your creativity.  Rearrange the furniture in your writing room to look at different vistas.

Nothing stays the same.  Change is everything.  And everything changes, whether we like it or not.    Sometimes it's difficult to accept it.  Sometimes we want everything to stay the same.  But that's impossible.  Accept change, embrace it, use it.  Write about it.

ADIOS HOLLYWOOD

Sunny morning again.  And I have to go back to the cold, the insane cold, I'm staying put, that's it. 

Lincoln Road was loads of fun yesterday.  Love to sit at one of the restaurants and just watch humanity go by.  Such a different humanity down here!  Lots of tall women, blonde women, handsome men, and everything in between.  Lots of dogs too, mostly small dogs.  Lots of very high heels.  Maybe that's why the women looked tall...

This morning I sip my coffee out on the front terrace and let the sun kiss me warmly, hoping to take some of it with me to Chicago.  Later we'll have breakfast at Georgios and then the airport.  I certainly hope there are no delays like on the way here.

I'll miss Betty and Jon and the ocean and the cooing doves outside my door.  I'll miss the walks on the Broadwalk and the sand between my toes.  This was a much needed break from real life.  Will be back next year Hollywood!  See you then!

THE OTHER HOLLYWOOD: Penultimate day

Betty, Jon, David and I like the ponies.  A few times a year we go to the races.  In Chicago we visit Arlington Park; here, we go to Gulfstream but yesterday we spent a few hours in Hialeah Park - a historical racetrack in the heart of the Cuban neighborhood.  Not as fancy as Gulfstream but down to earth, Hialeah offered us the shortest races I've ever seen.  Before the horses started running they were done.  I lost a few times, then stopped betting.  The other three did well although nobody got rich. 

Going to the races is one of our traditions.  I enjoy seeing the faces of people when I tell them we like to go to the racetrack.  For some reason they don't quite see us as horse betters.  We also go to Calle Ocho where Jon and David buy cigars and we all drink cortaditos.  And we go to Coconut Grove.  Last night we had a fabulous dinner at Le Bouchon - duck confit for me, beef bourgignon (sp.) for David, entrecote for Betty and rack of lamb for Jon.  Good food but very crowded restaurant.  Before that we spent sometime at a wine bar across the street.

Another tradition is going to South Beach and Lincoln Road where last year we saw an almost naked man walking a bicycle in the midst of the crowds.  All he wore was a tiny thong the same color as his bronzed skin.  On Saturday mornings we go to Eurobread for croissants (although this morning I slept in).

It's good to have traditions, rituals.  Makes life predictable yet exciting.  Gives me a sense of history, of belonging.  Tomorrow we fly back to cold Chicago.  Other rituals await me there.