13 January, 2003
Black Ice
by
Nanci Olesen
On the first day of the first week of the
first month of the third year of this century,
I slept til the crack of noon, having stayed
up to herald the new year well past midnight
with my family. Eggs and hashbrowns were
in order and tall glasses of orange juice.
And a lot of coffee for the adults.
We wore jammies until the middle of the
afternoon, when we trundled ourselves into
the car to go to Suzanne's house. There
were many people we didn't know and there
was lots of good food. There was nice lighting
and inspiring home improvements in progress.
Big kids huddled around computer screens.
Little kids immediately made up some kind
of game that involved characters and hiding
places. Adults held their plates in their
laps and discussed types of crown molding
available or the R factor of various kinds
of windows on the market.
We made reference to what we "do"
in the world, and we shared bits of information
about ourselves and our beliefs. It's so
good to not have deadlines and lists and
that everyday kind of feeling in the middle
of the darkest time of the year. To celebrate
and overeat and do unreasonable things like
let the kids stay up really really late.
I like the singing and the candles and the
sense that all is holy and good and promising.
I write this in the second week of the
first month of the third year of this century.
My children are back in their classrooms.
My many responsibilities are begging for
me to pay attention to them. I am writing
memos and making lists and cleaning and
calling people and balancing budgets. I'm
not too swamped. I feel that old commitment
to hanging onto the moment when our whole
family holds candles and sings.
There is no snow in Minneapolis and the
ice is black on the lakes. You can skate
the whole lake near my house. You can just
put your skates on at the edge, sitting
on the cold brown grass. A few nights ago,
my kids and I held hands and skated into
the dark night over the black ice. If I
keep skating and keep lighting candles and
keep honest and true about the work ahead,
then I can hang onto that blissful holiday
feeling.
The big looming sadness and complexity
of our times on this sweet earth edges around
every statement, every action. There is
so much to organize about. There is so much
to be aware of. There is also this very
day, to live well and lovingly. To do what
we can and to be with our kids, holding
hands, skating into the dark night.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
—Nanci Olesen
producer and host, MOMbo: 1990-2007 |
