Posting this here because a promo I’d recently set up listed this site (my blog) instead of my author site, annaikens.com. Apologies if you’ve seen this already!!
See my author site for a list of where to buy on online and in Vermont shops. Or you can always email me at author@annaikens.com and I’ll send ya an inscribed copy.
My reviewers on Amazon are all ages and genders – so check that page and decide?
My greatest LERV to all READERS! I’d love to hear your take on my book if you’ve read!
My Thanksgiving column had to be re-written because it didn’t make it into the paper. This starts differently and has minor improvements IMHO. Posted for posterity!
The Holiday Express pulled out of the station in September (Labor Day, Yom Kippur, International Talk Like a Pirate Day, World Beard Day), then chugged through October (Halloween, Samhain, National Name Your Car Day – I’m not making these up), and has now pulled out of the November station (Veterans Day, National Vinegar Day, Thanksgiving).
While some of us have had low-key Thanksgivings in recent years, some enjoyed wild ones. I envy your big-group noise and merrymaking and even the fighting. It makes me wicked nostalgic. A quiet Christmas I don’t mind, but Thanksgiving is supposed to be full of joyful hoots as people walk through the door, with lots of chaos and exploding casseroles.
A friend lamented when his daughter left for college, “Where did 20 years go?” For me it is, at this time of year: where did those beloved people go, those sacred homes, those raucous laughs of holidays past? Those kids all growed up. We all growed up. Sigh. Do you ever wish you were a kid again? Our elders, so many of them now frail or gone, back in charge?
I looked up “nostalgia” and found the craziest assortment of definitions, ranging from “a sad longing” to, for real, “mental illness.” The latter does make sense. Because if you wallow in a sad longing for the past long enough, you are probably 1. Ignoring the bad things about those times, 2. Experiencing mental anguish, and 3. No longer living your life.
An odd detour in an alleged humor column, I realize. Stay with me.
Alas, many best-loved beings have left the building. Favorite musicians, actors, friends, lovers, pets, family, neighbors. The world seems a giant mess. While nostalgia implies a glossing over of history, I feel that my own generation’s past was, in fact, lovelier – before the major disasters (you know the names) that imperiled our overall sense of safety and trust in humans, no matter where we live. At least in the US, by and large, life was easier back then. We just didn’t know it. The oceans, lands, air, and wildlife now at risk. Homeless tent cities common. And there is so much hate now. Or else we see more hate, due to the devil that is 24-hour news on TV and other screens. I say, some nostalgia is legit.
In our messed-up powder keg of a world, it’s difficult to remain hopeful or sane. Especially as it seems there’s little be done about much of it, by us ordinary people anyway, aside from writing checks and voting. It’s distressing.
But I have discovered this: that making an effort to feel good can actually pay off. It’s not easy sometimes, but worth the attempt. I went to see a magical band at Chandler, helped collect gifts for kids, and baked for a dear friend. I went back to choir. Do you know that singing in groups (even small) increases your oxytocin and other good brain chemicals? Head to a tiled bathroom for some doo-wop harmonizing with your housemate(s).
When you feel good, you feel somehow … loved. And conversely, when you feel loved, you feel good. If you’ll allow me to wax Cosmic here: feeling good allows great amounts of what some call the Life Force to flow through you. This makes you healthier physically and emotionally. This makes you better able to navigate illness and difficult situations. Energized. Motivated. Resilient. So feel good if it kills you. Hang out with people that make you feel loved and loving. Okay, maybe for now you’d rather lie around feeling like holy hell. Go right ahead, but don’t do it for long. It’ll make you sick.
Like many of you, I always dug Thanksgiving because my mommy put on such a good one and because it’s non-denominational. We’d host people who had nowhere to go, much as my loud family’s antics were no doubt technically embarrassing. The guests didn’t seem to mind. We all laughed and laughed. I miss every single person in those blurry old Instamatic photos, whether they moved away or died or just grew up. In recent years, I’m the person with nowhere to go for holidays. Someone always invites me in.
In an effort to feel good, and in so doing make others feel good, this Thanksgiving I endeavored to focus more on who’s here than on who’s not. I’m carrying that to each remaining stop on the Holiday Express.
What I suggest this holiday season to you and me both is this: really marinate in communal happiness. No matter how small or random your group, no matter how holidays of years past appear happier in your mind, feel the love right where you are. When at the table, honoring the memory of beings we adored who are now gone, really savor those that are here. Right here. Love the one(s) you’re with. And if you just can’t deal at all this year, get into your berth solo in the Sleeper Car. It’ll be over before you know it.
Feel good. Spread love. Bring leftovers to someone left out. Or invite them in? Good day.
Ann Aikens’ darkly comical, uplifting book of advice, A Young Woman’s Guide to Life: A Cautionary Tale, is available at Amazon & Vermont shops. She has written her Upper Valley Girl column since 1996. Find shops at annaikens.com; sign up for her blog at lower right at uppervalleygirl.com.
While some of us are having rather low-key Thanksgivings in recent years, some of you are enjoying wild ones. I envy your big-group noise and merrymaking and even the fighting. It makes me wicked nostalgic.
A friend lamented when his daughter left for college, “Where did 20 years go?” For me it is, at this time of year: where did those beloved people go, those sacred homes, those raucous laughs of Thanksgivings past? Those kids all growed up. We all growed up. Sigh. Do you ever wish you were a kid again? Those older people (now frail or gone) still in charge?
I looked up “nostalgia” and found the craziest assortment of definitions, ranging from things along the lines of “a sad longing” to, for real, “mental illness.” Sounds melodramatic, but makes sense. Because if you wallow in a sad longing for the past long enough, you are probably 1. Ignoring the bad things about those times, 2. Experiencing mental anguish, and 3. Not living your life.
This is an odd topic for a holiday column, I realize. Stay with me.
Many best-loved beings have left the building. Favorite musicians, actors, friends, lovers, pets, family, neighbors. The world at large seems a giant mess. While nostalgia implies a glossing over of actual history, I feel that my generation’s past was in fact lovelier – before the major disasters (you know the names) that imperiled our overall sense of safety and trust in humans, no matter where we live. At least in the US, by and large, life was easier back then. The oceans and wildlife and all of the Lands are now at risk. Homeless tent cities everywhere. And there is so much hate now. Or else we see more hate, due to the devil that is 24-hour news on TVs and screens. So don’t feel too bad about feeling nostalgic.
In our messed-up powder keg of a world, it’s difficult to remain hopeful or sane. Especially as it seems there’s little be done about much of it, aside from sending checks and voting. But I discovered this: that making an effort to feel good can actually pay off. It’s not easy sometimes, but worth trying. I went to see a magical and upbeat band at Chandler Center for the Arts, helped collect gifts for Ukrainian kids, and baked for a dear friend in need. I plan to go back to choir. Do you know that singing in groups (even small) increases your oxytocin? And surely other good brain chemicals.
When you feel good, you feel loved. And when you feel loved, you feel good. It works both ways, right? Well, guess what: feeling good allows great amounts of what some call Life Force to flow through you. This makes you healthier physically and emotionally. This makes you better able to navigate illness and difficult situations. Energized. Motivated. Resilient. So go feel good if it kills you. Maybe right now you’d rather lie around feeling like holy hell. Go right ahead, but don’t do it for long. It’ll make you sick.
Like many of you, I always dug Thanksgiving because my mommy put on such good ones and because it’s non-denominational. We would host people who had nowhere to go, much as our family’s loud antics were no doubt technically embarrassing. The guests didn’t seem to mind. We laughed and laughed. So did the guests. I miss every single person in those blurry old Instamatic photos, whether they moved away or died or just grew up.
But in an effort to feel good, and in so doing make others feel good, this year I endeavor to focus far more on who’s here than on who’s not.
What I suggest this holiday to you and to me both is this: really marinate in communal happiness. No matter how small your group, no matter how past holidays appear happier in your mind, feel the love right where you are. When, at the table, verbally honoring the memory of our global and familial stars now gone, really savor the people that are here. Right here. Love the one(s) you’re with.
Feel good. Spread love. Bring leftovers to someone left out. Good Thanksgiving Day.
Ann Aikens’ darkly comical, uplifting book of advice, A Young Woman’s Guide to Life: A Cautionary Tale, is available at Amazon & Vermont shops. She has written her Upper Valley Girl column since 1996. Find shops at annaikens.com; more of her writing at uppervalleygirl.com.
Years ago, after a heartbreak (the first of many), I decided to stretch myself. I learned then that, of all things, fear can boost you out of the hole. Fear trumps all other emotions – logically I guess, as a survival mechanism.
I had worked at and frequented comedy clubs for years, so I went that route of fear: performing (not, say, cliff diving.) After said heartbreak, I took a comedy class (lame), attempted standup (terrifying; developed periscope-like tunnel vision of audience), and somehow got into an improv group (practice sessions riotous, even though I never got to “play,” as improvers call it, on show nights, my motorcycle constantly croaking in sketchy NYC neighborhoods after shows).
Anyway, here goes: How To Be Funny
Hang Out with Funny People
Imagine if you ate breakfast every day with Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner. That was Rob Reiner’s youth. No way he (the director of the fake “rockumentary” This Is Spinal Tap) was not going to grow up to be funny.
Callbacks
This is when you refer to something mentioned earlier in your “set” – or conversation – that made people laugh the first time. Everyone loves callbacks. They’re like, “Oh, I remember that funny thing; that was funny, even funnier now, HAW, how clever!” This is not your classic callback, but close enough, and funny as hell.
Footnotes and Parenthetical Insertions
Use for unexpected laffs. The weirder the better, I find.
Sarcasm
Growing up, our parents used sarcasm to great comedic effect, especially while driving. “Yo Einstein, find a parking spot already, it’s not that complicated.” “Hey Quicksilver, the pedal on the right is for the GAS.” I later learned that my favorite aged kid is eight, because they’ve learned sarcasm but still respect authority. This doesn’t last. Well, the sarcasm does.
And my personal favorite…
The Absurd
Example: Rodentologist and author of “Raising Hamsters Right” urges owners to guide their rodents with a firm hand from the get-go. “Establishing dominance is the name of the game. Letting your hamster think it’s in charge can have disastrous effects.” (Point being: Who can train a hamster?)
Be Like My Dad
He recently had a flu shot and his shoulder hurt. I said,”You should probably be drinking a lot of water.” His reply: “I’ll probably be drinking a lot of gin.”
See Live Comedy and Improvisational Comedy
Best viewed with a group, IMHO. Get a posse and go. GREAT standup show coming up at Randolph’s Chandler in October called the Ivy League of Comedy. Go! Saw them twice and they so rocked. Anyone who knows where to find good improv locally, I’m all ears. My contact info below. Nothing is funnier than improv. You’ll LERV it.
Create a Flash Mob
While working banquet at a stranger’s wedding? Bar mitzvah?
Or, If Unmotivated…
Watch flash mobs on YouTube. The bystanders’ reactions are priceless.
Tell Disgusting True Stories
Like how when I lived in a tiny walk-up in SoHo, New York, I subsisted on take-out pizza, sushi, and bagels. Never cooked. One day after 2 years I opened my oven and an absolute waterfall of cockroaches cascaded out. (They call that The Nest.) My neighbors thought I was being murdered, from the screaming. Imagine if you passed out, and they’d scrambled all over you? This story always gets a laugh and amusing faces of disgust. Note parenthetical insertion.
Tell Flagrant Lies to Amuse Self and Friends
At a boring party? Spice it up. Haul your friend over to someone you both don’t know. Ask the person what they do for a living (very American). Acknowledge their work. Then say, “Sheila here is a rodentologist studying the rat population of minor cities. She started out as a trapeze artist, didn’t you, Sheila? It will be Sheila’s job to keep a straight face and elaborate. (Note: This is a callback in two ways: the hamster reference, plus this game is straight out of improvisational comedy.)
Watch Funny Shows/Movies
I know a cosmic person who says his secret to inner peace is meditation and watching funny movies. With his mom.
I’ve been thinking, since recent flicks “Barbie” and “Theater Camp” had me howling, that what the world needs now (besides love*) is funny, yes, funny. Come on writers and directors, crank out those comedies — highbrow, lowbrow, we don’t care. Bring it awn. Go see comedies in the theater. The shared experience crushes home viewing.
Suggested Movies: A Short and Largely Obscure List of Comedic Brilliance
Not necessarily entirely comedies, but mega-comical moments:
Bridesmaids, Go (clever ensemble piece; the Amway scene!), Wonder Boys, Mother (Albert Brooks and Debbie Reynolds GEM), After Hours (Linda Fiorentino hottt!). Barbie is worth it for the dance numbers with Ryan Gosling, a former New Mickey Mouse Club alum who can DANCE.
Mel Brooks: Young Frankenstein, Blazing Saddles, and High Anxiety.
Forget Paris: the pigeon scene with Debra Winger
Stuber: So, so good. You won’t regret. Kumail Nanjiani and Dave Bautista!
The Spy Who Dumped Me: the chase scene alone…Milla Kunis and Kate McKinnon
Three Woody Allen movies you may not have seen that kill: Small Time Crooks (Tracy Ullman), Hollywood Ending (absurd plot, luminescent Tea Leoni), Manhattan Murder Mystery (Diane Keaton)
Cricket On The Hearth: old-school animated Christmas movie my nieces love.
Romy & Michele’s High School Reunion (when they ask for a Business Woman’s lunch)
Pink Panther flicks (“It’s not my phaone.”)
Bill Murray: Scrooged and Caddyshack
Groundhog Day: romantic to boot!
The Royal Tenenbaums
Overboard: I’ve seen it 10 times and I do not re-watch movies.
Anchorman (I’ve never seen)
Christopher Guest: Best in Show
Napoleon Dynamite: The dance sequence, you’ll be afire
Alan Arkin (total god): Glen Gary Glenross, Little Miss Sunshine, The Russians Are Coming The Russians are Coming
It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World: another old nugget
Meet the Fockers (I’ll tell you a funny story if you ask at contact info below)
Shows: Maybe another column, with Dear Reader’s input? Your call. Good day.
*Nod to Burt Bacharach
Ann Aikens has released a darkly comical yet uplifting book of advice, A Young Woman’s Guide to Life: A Cautionary Tale, available on Amazon and local Vermont shops. She has written her Upper Valley Girl column since 1996. Information at annaikens.com.
Cutie pie Ginger! At top is Marshmallow; RIP our classic darling. You brought only joy.
Come and go as you please from 6-7:30 for reading, signing, plus pizza & childcare thanks to goddess librarian, Mariah. Bring your book or get one there for cash or check!
Night Blooming Cereus blows…3 days from now? Hard to predict.
Meanwhile, the Monarch caterpillar eggs in the ground at the base of the milkweed plants somehow survived Vermont’s flooding. The fuzzy guy is young; the juicy fatty is ready to TRANSFORM. Decided not to bring inside this year. I always miss its cocoon spinning no matter how closely I watch the thing. But it does keep them from getting eaten by birds, so I may change my mind.
But in general: aren’t things happening at once? It’s a bit much, no?
When I’m not eating like a hog, moving like a sloth, sweating like a horse, and smelling like a goat, I’m swimming like an otter, laughing like a hyena, sleeping like a log, and smelling like a rose. Or some mixed-up combination thereof. It’s all extremes lately.
In a week’s time we have such highs and lows, no? One day it’s a crazy-good 4th of July; days later, disaster strikes. If, in Vermont, you haven’t suffered serious flood damage, you know people who have. Flooding and dam issues continue. It has us on pins and needles, drinking like fish. Our daily lives seem full of extremes.
Maybe this is partly due to COVID. We’re now positively overjoyed, in a way we weren’t prior, at simply sharing a sunset or religious service or dancing together. A party is a big deal. Dining out? Thrilling! Contrarily, with people being more forthcoming these days, we hear sad personal news like never before (diseases, suicides, overdoses). Throw in endless televised news with upsetting global stories and there is much to fret about. The highs are higher and lows more frequent, like a screwy rollercoaster.
The weather is reflecting the extremes inside us, or causing them. Both? Initially, I dug the mad dash to close car windows for daily cloudbursts. Now it seems silly that I’d planned to stand out in the biblical downpours and get soaked. Fun as a kid. Now: rain is scary.
Before the flood, I wrote: “How do wild animals feel about such rain? Do they just run with it? Or are the birds like, come on already, quit raining, we gotta f l y. The fish hate droughts, but do they enjoy chronic turbulence? I envision little fish banging into rocks, mystified. Is that what divorce is like? Nothing makes any sense any more, and you’re just tossed around, blind, lost?”
Now it seems unlikely any fish survived Vermont’s waste-filled rivers. Riverside songbirds have taken off, their cover washed away.
There’s not a hell of a lot we can do for these floods except build wiser, use less fossil energy, monitor rainfall better, and help each other dig out. With terrible timing I had a bike crash right before the flood, so I can’t get that hopeful feeling you get from helping others; I can’t lift my own head. Fit as a fiddle after the Irene Flood, it was easy to roll up sleeves and dig in. The Bucket Brigade marched by in their Wellies, waders, and shorts, bailing out basements gratis. We cheered! Our young, Superhuman Heroes! Nothing beats in-person neighbors helping neighbors. Sign up at vermont.gov/volunteer.
Friend Sassy and I were discussing how, decades ago, we just felt more safe. Then I see a sign, “WARNING: Windows can be hazardous.” For God’s sake, what isn’t? We constantly learn of new hazards, with dread. Like: Do not go in brown, churning water. There is no oxygen in such water, and humans have no buoyancy as a result. A life preserver does no good; you will sink like granite. As I’m afraid did the fish.
Weather disasters, ticks, shootings, marauding bots … who feels safe? The good news is that humans default, mostly, to trust. (See Malcolm Gladwell’s dark book Talking to Strangers.) Turns out we mostly try to envision a safe world. We trust.
Electrical storms, now there we can take action. Lightning can mess you UP. Fuse your vertebrae, destroy your bone health or hearing … avoid! If you can hear thunder, you can be struck by lightning. Lightning can strike from 10 miles away. Do not go in a shower or tub during a storm. Or on a landline. Or by a window (hazardous!). Hide in bed. I do.
A friend said about The Flood, “Not sure what the damn message is.” I have no answer. Some questions remain ever unanswered (“What’s that smell?”), others answered eventually (“It was the O-rings”). Undeserved misfortune is simply part of life, no? In Vermont we try for tiny carbon footprints. California blows us away in electric vehicles, but Vermont buys local, promotes rideshares, and wastes little. And gets punished anyway.
For now, we’re like blindfolded rats in a maze, operating on some combo of memory, ESP, and science – to repair and rebuild. Then, as humans do, buoyed by the LIFT of helping each other and an inclination towards trust, we will bounce back. Soon we’ll run like the wind, baying like hounds, having the time of our lives. Strong as an ox, maybe a blue ox. Maybe sooner than we think.
May you rise like a Phoenix, with strength like Hercules’, helpers lifting you like angels, and your worries vanishing like a mist. Please enjoy, as able, a Good Day.
As I’d vibed, the NBC is going to bloom when I’m out of town. Drats! The good news is it’s VERY tiny right now, 1/16th of an inch. I’ve never caught one this early. She always takes longer to blow than I anticipate, so it’s possible I can send pix upon my return.
This is the first year time in years there are 2 blooms. The 2nd one (not pictured) is even tinier. So I remain hopeful! If I gave you a plant, look for the above. Careful, they’re wicked fragile. If you’d like a plant, let me know!
uppervalleygirl 