OK, I admit. I wrote on my electric typewriter until 1992 and I only liked vanilla ice-cream until Ben & Jerry’s came out with New York Super Fudge Chunk. Since then, life’s been a taste sensation.
Needless to say, I’ve dragged my feet heavily into blog land. Electronic, impersonal, time wasting. Shall I go on? Well, I’ve changed my tune. I’m thinking it’s an inspired way to keep a writing schedule with myself. Like college deadlines without the grades. (Really, don’t grade me. Please.)
I start today, with an essay I wrote for that NPR series This I Believe. The one that makes us cry on a weekly basis.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4538138
I love a good cry. I also love sisters. Read on…
I believe in Sisterhood. The kind with a capital S. The kind that is both intimate and global, that soothes sorrows and moves mountains. The kind that resonates, adding a choral quality to what might otherwise be a life of weak-kneed solos.
When we were young – tucked into twin beds in a small pink room – my sister and I made a game of trying to pull each other out of the covers and onto the floor. Typical squirreling around, except that once we were truly teetering on the edge of a fall, we’d whisper the word “undependable” quite urgently, and the other would stop pulling and start nudging her ‘opponent’ back up into bed. This cooperative twist extended the game indefinitely by preventing the crash that would have brought a parent upstairs with admonishments to sleep. It was both intuitive and instructive. It made utter and natural sense, and defined the sublime qualities one ought to look for in a sister.
I was gifted one sister by birth and have lucked into countless others along the way. With them, I rode the chair-a-lift at age nine… double- and triple-pierced my ears at age 16… rented ramshackle apartments at 20. With them, I road-tripped ‘cross county, waited tables, and summited 14,000 foot peaks.
The women I’ve marched with in political rallies, wept with over love and grief, slept with on European trains, Mexican buses and African mats? Sisters. The women whose weddings I was in, and those who came to mine? Sisters. The women with whom I’ve edited poetry and raised money and sat on school boards and worked with in staff meetings? The women with whom I’ve gotten things done? Sisters. And those who had babies when I did, whose babies had fevers when mine did, who feel some of the same impossible worry and joy that I feel as a mother? Sisters, all.
Now, on Tuesday nights, after work days are wrapped and children are tucked, I gather together with six other women. Among us, a clothing designer and dramatist, a photographer, fine artist, floral artist, and two writers. Among us, 15 children home in bed. A whole host of creative career arrangements and resourceful marriages and houses in need of repair. Among us, a serendipitous sisterhood so powerful that we’ve come to call it Goodness, with a capital G. It is in this community that we brainstorm and collaborate, weigh options, vent and celebrate. It is here that we are lifted up, back to a place of comfort, right when we are teetering on the precipice and feeling most ‘undependable’. Goodness reaffirms what I’ve known in my bones since my own sister was born – sisterhood sustains me.
man.
man oh man.
*gulp*
kath
kathie’s gulping
aw shucks…
Now. You wanna talk about gulping? Check out Kathie’s awesome custom clothing and her funny, funky blog…
http://www.ramonsterwear.com
I Believe in Liz
When my daughter comes home crying about mean girls in school, I secretly cry for her. I know the pain, I have lived the harrassment. I also know the guilt of retaliation. I wish my daughter could stay in her young innocence, however, I sometimes wish I could beam her into her 30’s so she could experience developed Sisterhood.
When my daugher comes home crying about mean girls in school I remind her AGAIN of my “Liz Garton Story.” It goes something like this….
There was a girl named Liz Garton who moved from Vail, Colorado to our small school in Elkhart Lake. She was teased yet many girls were jealous of her. Still, she was nice to everybody. It didn’t matter if you were a farmer, a prep, a jock, a dork or a book worm. Liz was nice to all. I was bullied by a group of girls in basketball and Liz was the only one to not “follow the leader/bully.” As a vulnerable 14 year old, Liz made all the difference in my world. She was like that brave character we have all seen in that after school “moral movie.” She dared to be different. Liz was the true example of a good, caring person.
I always tell my daughter to be herself, but follow the lesson of my “Liz Garton Story.” Be kind, understanding, neutral and remember G.O.D.–Good Orderly Direction!!
Thank you Liz!!
PS. Your writing is fantastic…a bit intimidating to follow! I look forward to reading more. XT
Re: I Believe in Liz
Really??!?! I remember myself as such a pill. Distorted perceptions? I’m hoping maybe MINE are the distorted ones because it would a bright spot in the middle of a murky season to believe that yours are even a little accurate. Thank YOU.
Beautiful sister!
I waited until my three children were in bed before I sat down in front of your beautiful words. Now I’m glad I waited or I would have hurried through it and not had the chance to really absorb the power of your eloquence. You fill my heart Liz until I weep. Thanks for sharing the love.
Bernadette
Re: Beautiful sister!
I’m not a good wait-er so now you’ve thrown down the guantlet. Will try to wait. Patiently. For anything. Today. Can’t wait until tomorrow…
sisters
Am not sure how to act in Blogland…but thanks are in order…sisterhood IS powerful and has sustained women in all those pre-blog eras!! (hey Liz, don’t forget that discussion we had Sat about the future-employment dangers of blogging, 😉 NR
Re: sisters
I’ll keep it on the up-and-up 🙂
sisters
Liz, your words are so powerful. I’m so glad to have you in my sisterhood! You have to write a children’s story based on your memories of you and your sister. That “undependable” needs to be passed on! For some reason I can’t post as “open ID”…
much love to you,
shannon
Re: sisters
I cannot answer any technical questions re blogging except to say that it refers to the act of creating web logs. As opposed to yule logs, I suppose.
So, here’s a link to another blog full of good eye candy. The wholesome kind. Shannon’s art is allll that:
http://www.shannonlowry.com
i’m blogging on you blogging. just had to re-read this again for another good cry. or is that a goodness cry?
k
synonyms for “cry”
Bitchin’ Bawl
Wicked Weep
Phat Flip-out
Goodness Gasp
Calling you sister is effortless, natural. I am one lucky only child!
LYLAS,
shan