Memoir Archives – Page 11 of 22

January 2, 2019January 5, 2019

Happy New Year, Same Old Shtick

I bought myself a new computer (Merry Christmas to me) because the old one was doing those things they do when they get old: taking five minutes to boot up, hopping off the internet frequently for no particular reason, or just refusing to cooperate. Not quite the Blue Screen of Death, but it was coming, I was sure. I suppose I could have just wiped the hard drive, but I convinced myself a new one was needed because there were a few new bells and whistles that I wanted.

So I have spent my transitioning into 2019 with Della, the Shiny New Thing, who is frequently reminding me of how painful a process this is. Microsoft is so intrusive and buggy; Support Forums are full of bad advice or suggestions that lead nowhere. I figured out how to port over all the email history I wanted–oh, the cleverness of me! — but I broke the email on my phone, tablet, and old machine in the process and had to remove and reload, over and over.

Into the New Year we go, doing the same Old things. Continue reading “Happy New Year, Same Old Shtick”

October 10, 2018July 2, 2019

Heartland III: Not My Mama’s Shakespeare

It’s astounding
Time is fleeting
Madness takes its toll
So listen closely
Not for very much longer
I’m going to lose control

Quick–what’s the next line?

Stratford Festival Theater — Shakespearean Festival Theater in Stratford Ontario, originally built in 1953. Photo by kajmeister.

Forty-two years ago, I saw the legendary Canadian actor Brian Bedford play three roles at the Stratford Canadian Shakespearean festival in repertory: Angelo in Measure for Measure, Malvolio in Twelfth Night, and Richard III. The breadth of his performances changed my idea of what actors could do.

Forty years ago, as a freshman in college at Berkeley, I watched a science-fiction movie about a transvestite where people shouted at the screen and threw toast and rice. It changed my idea about how a movie can connect with an audience.

Who would have thought that, getting old, we would wax nostalgic about doing the time warp?

Stratford Festival program, Rocky Horror — Stratford Festival’s Rocky Horror, starring Dan Chameroy. Program photo by Stratford staff, uncredited.

Gimme That Ol’ Time Theater

Continue reading “Heartland III: Not My Mama’s Shakespeare”

October 3, 2018October 6, 2018

Heartland II: Where My People Lie Buried

If you trace your ancestors, how far back do you go? Great-greats? Where the four brothers married the four sisters? Pre-Civil War? Neanderthals? Perhaps I should start simply, just with my mother and my grandfather, a more manageable task.

Last week, I wrote about the inspiration of seeing the Crazy Horse Memorial in South Dakota. This week, I am traveling the path of my own people, my mother’s family, whose lives were sprinkled across the northern plains of Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan. We are Finns, who emigrated from Lapplander landscapes with thin, tall trees, who journeyed from bleak places of chill and sleet to cross the American “west” until they reached an equally bleak landscape. Home!

Copper Harbor lighthouse, Michigan — Copper Harbor lighthouse on Lake Superior above the Upper Peninsula Michigan. Photo by kajmeister.

Not to worry. This is not a full genealogy review, not a list of begats and son ofs in biblical proportions. I did a Family Tree project in the fifth grade which had some of these details, but don’t have it with me. I may be misremembering or fictionalizing pieces (I think Grandpa Hugo was oldest of 11… I think there were four brothers and sisters intermarrying…) In point of fact, my aunt has also compiled some kind of detailed review, to the point where if you go into the Finnish-American Center in Hancock, Michigan and mention the surname Busse, they say, “Oh, Ainie!” even though she lives 350 miles away.

This is about the environment of my mom’s family. What was it like where she was born and grew up? Why did she always yearn to be near a city, preferring traffic over trees? Why did she enjoy the 108-degree heat of Sacramento? Why did her family have such a strange, biting sense of humor? What was all that SISU about? Continue reading “Heartland II: Where My People Lie Buried”