Forgotten Graces…

A quick look at the dictionary refers to grace as courtesy, good manners, and a polite way of behaving. The word forgotten implies already having known something. In order to forget it you had to know about it in the first place. If you put the two words together, as I have in the title, it might seem I’m about to launch into a complaint about rudeness or the nastiness we’ve seen with the rise of anonymous posts online. Not so.

I attended a village brainstorming session recently. The point was to provide council with input on the village’s long term plan. There was a facilitator who has worked with many municipalities throughout our province. I listened to the presentation and when we were in our break-out group, I asked what vision did people have of the village? Our village is marketed as Victorian with historical buildings, on the Rideau Lock system, quaint, pretty, and with unique artisans. I grew up in a similar small town, although slightly larger in terms of population. We had a neighbouring community that was also a small town acting as a bedroom community for the city. The neighbouring town welcomed industry and big box stores. My hometown welcomed the arts. [It’s not quite so cut and dried as this is a broad generalization.] Both towns have grown but the people of my hometown often go to the next town when shopping for the basics found at the big stores. Cute shops and a bakery populate the downtown core of my hometown and pull in tourists from the region. Back to the village in which I currently reside. It is very busy in the good weather. People are drawn here for the shops, the locks, and the return to a simpler life. But then they leave and go back to their urban homes and lifestyles. What are they looking for when they arrive and do they want it full time or just to look at, a bit like an interactive Victorian theme park? The brainstorming session I attended got me thinking about aspects of the past and of a simpler time. What is it that I am looking for and why did this location appeal? Do I want to go back in time or are there elements of the past that call to me? There must be something that drew me to the village in the first place and something, other than the complexities of selling and moving, that keeps me here.

Well, I think some of what I’m looking for are graces that have been either forgotten or never known. My nephew told me he wasn’t taught cursive in school. Beyond the shock I felt was the grief for the loss of that connection to the page. I’ve always taken handwritten notes in meetings while working. I still do it when writing out ideas for this blog or a book. The pen in my hand, the movement across the paper, connects me to the words in a way that a keyboard and screen cannot. Perhaps today’s generation doesn’t need that link. They are so quick to type anything and everything and maybe they don’t need the physical movement to learn and remember.

When I think of handwriting my first thoughts go to school but there was another reason for paper and pen when I was growing up. We wrote letters, sent thank you notes and sent cards for birthdays or Christmas through the mail. There was something exciting about seeing your name on an envelope - at least as a child you knew they weren’t bills! Writing a letter to someone was required communication when the recipient lived far away. Back in my childhood days using the phone was expensive with long distance charges. We didn’t send emails or texts or share everything the way we do on social media today. And you know what? It took time and thought to write a letter. You couldn’t just backspace to delete an error. That effort showed care. While a card doesn’t have the same amount of writing it’s still a way to show that the person receiving it is cared for and remembered. It’s a personal connection.

I mentioned the phone versus letter writing but in today’s world what about a phone call versus a text message? Hearing someone’s voice instead of reading words on a cell? And sometimes not even full words but mere abbreviations! I understand that sometimes people don’t have time to chat and sometimes it’s just easier to send a text. Sometimes I’ll text when I don’t want to forget something and a response isn’t urgent. I get it but it does reduce our interactions with each other. Taking it a step further, what about in person visits? Sitting down and chatting with a friend over a tea or coffee or cocktail used to be normal. More and more it seems like we’re rushing from one place to another and always saying we’ll book some time with each other but… do we? Do we prioritize those relationships and ensure we’re spending that time together? Don’t get me wrong. There are all sorts of valid reasons why those friendships end up lower on the must do list. Look around you at what children do these days.

When I was a kid and yes, that was quite awhile ago, we played. Unstructured. Unplanned. Uncoordinated. Unwatched. We hung out with the other kids in the neighbourhood. We ran around, rode our bikes, went to each other’s houses. We were expected home for meals. Sometimes that ended up being a phone call from one parent to another approving the sharing of that household’s lunch or dinner. Someone from my childhood recently mentioned how my mom made the best peanut butter sandwiches. Obviously, our house was one of those stopping points. We learned to work out our problems. We got in trouble sometimes. There were scrapes and bruises. There were hard feelings and harsh words. And yet, we all survived and turned out very well. We were expected to mind our manners and do as we were told. We were not saints. We definitely broke the rules. But you know what? Punishments taught us to be better. Chores such as vacuuming, doing dishes, tidying our play areas and our bedrooms were expected to be completed. We were part of the household and expected to contribute. Nowadays everything is recorded and shared online. Chores taught us how to live and behave. They were in fact graces that helped shape us into functioning adults. They taught us to have pride in our surroundings. There was value in learning how to take care of ourselves, our belongings, and others.

There are a lot of graces in my life that I still enjoy. When the weather is good I love to hang my clothes on the outside line. I think this is one that a lot of people living in rural communities appreciate, as I often see clothes flapping in the breeze. It gives laundry a fresh smell, reduces the use of hydro, keeps costs down, and doesn’t take much time. I write cards and send them by mail. I know it costs money but it’s something that I like to do. I believe it brings a smile to the recipient and I think smiles are in short supply. I intend to do a little more letter writing. I do a bit but I like the personal aspect of handwriting.

I enjoy Sunday as a day of rest. To be truthful, I’m not great at resting during the weekend. I like to feel I’ve been productive when I start back at work on Monday. I think though, that making time for writing my blog, reading, going to Mass, and enjoying my Saturday newspaper (yes, I save it for Sundays) all help build a restful day. Saturdays contain the more active of my weekend chores. I am hoping that I will make more use of my good dishes, especially on Sundays, that I will relax with my morning tea instead of rushing into work, and the peace that comes will be appreciated.

As I look back over my blog and reflect on what I’ve written something that stands out is the concept of time. Perhaps the past had more graces because we took more time for them. Children today are signed up for myriads of activities and groups and don’t often have the time to play freely. Their lives are far more structured than my childhood. I have often heard comments about today’s generation that imply laziness and a lack of manners. As I come to the end of this blog, I think those comments are just wrong. My son is one of the hardest working people I know. His work days are 12 hours long. That’s the norm in his industry. You can’t call him lazy. However, work isn’t all of his life. He still makes time for other pursuits. He’s an entrepreneur at heart and is always working on his side business, as does my daughter-in-law. They engage in activities they love and they make the time for them. As I’m writing this my son is on the golf course. I know this because I texted him! He is of the age of technology and is incredibly comfortable with it, as is his generation. With it comes a bit of smugness and perhaps lack of interest in being without it. It has made his life faster and more immediate - in a second he is used to having information at his fingertips. On the other hand, I consider myself a member of a very lucky generation. I remember the joy of dinner without cell phones and personal communication with others around the table and nowadays my cell is close at hand and is providing the dinner music. I still send cards and write letters but I use text messaging on a daily basis. I know how to bake bread from scratch, have bought store bread, and have an incredible bakery less than a block away. I have the television shows and sports I enjoy and also have the accessibility of streaming shows not available on mainstream cable. I can go for a walk and see historic buildings, be greeted by the people I meet, and have music in my ears through my cell. I can walk down to the store in the morning and pick up my newspaper and know that if a snowstorm stops me, I can still get the news online. I’m blessed to be part of a generation for whom these graces were part of life. My son’s generation can’t consider them forgotten as they never knew them. I have the best of two worlds. What am I going to do with it?

I think I’ve been forgetting some of the graces available to me. I’ve allowed myself to get dragged down by the negativity in the world. I’m writing this blog sitting at my beautiful kitchen island with the door open to my porch, the heat turned off (although it’s not summertime yet) and with the influx of fresh air clearing my mind. It’s time for me to make time for the graces in my world. It’s time to remember that connections with people and pleasant manners can bring peace to life, if I only make the time.

We had quite a spring snowstorm this past week. I loved the irony of my poinsettia going red and thought I would share it, along with some snowy images. Even though it’s spring and I’ve had enough of winter, I have to admit that it sure was pretty!

Although not readily seen in my house, these two storage areas needed a serious overhaul. I’m so pleased with how they turned out. At the top is my “scary” stairway to the cellar. One of the things that’s important to me is to make as much of the space in the house useful. I’m very happy with being able to clean up the stairway enough to hold brooms and mops, along with garbage bags. Eventually I plan to get this painted white - it should brighten the space up as I do go up and down the stairs regularly.

The bottom pictures are the drawer under my sink. It started out relatively tidy but became a bit of a junk drawer. Now everything is stored in a tidy manner and is easier to access. At no time did I buy matching bins - I try to use what I have already.

I can have a hard time really slowing down. I thought puzzles might be an opportunity to turn on some music and rest a bit - in the last couple of months I managed to put together these two. What I’ve learned is that puzzles are a great way to keep the brain active as I get older.