Baggage
I’ve been meaning to post my 2019 Top Picks List for four freaking months now, yet every time I sat down at my keyboard to compose, I let something get in my way — an intellectual weight, an emotional freight…mental baggage, to be precise.
But I’ve finally dedicated time to unpack, because I know that, if I don’t, it’s going to become too heavy for me to bear. Plus, one of you may, in these dark and uncertain times, find something here to consume that brings you a measure of light.
So, without further ado, here are the objects, experiences, and cultural artifacts that made my last year so very worth living. [Settle in: It’s a long post, but it’s pretty conversational and chatty in tone!]
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The Half-Centenary Celebration
On Saturday, May 25th, 2019, seventeen of my dearest friends on this planet — from junior high school buds to college roommates to professional acquaintances turned personal confidantes — joined me for a dinner I’d dreamed of hosting for literally 36 years. See, I’m not the marrying kind; I have never actively wanted a wedding. But on the occasion of turning 50 — a half-century old — I felt a keen desire to gather loved ones to wine and dine on my dime.
I chose The Mountain House in King’s Mountain for the fête because it’s the perfect mix of high and low, a rustic cabin-like structure featuring excellent cuisine nestled in the redwood forest I have called home for nearly a dozen years.
The evening began by the stone fireplace in the bar with arrivals tossing back signature cocktails such as the Boulevardier and the Sazerac. I supplied a few musically minded pals with handfuls of quarters for the exceptionally versatile jukebox, and we rocked the roadhouse for an hour.
Then we were seated at a long table with white linens in the atrium of the fine dining section of the establishment. As the sun set in the western woods and the ever-present Bay Area fog rolled in, we feasted on wild boar pierogi, roast duck in a cherry port sauce, elk medallions with sweet potato mash, and several helpings of the famous bread pudding.
Satisfied, a good number of us returned to my home on Memory Lane — also known as Tranquility Base — for a few more libations, including the deliciously civilized agricole rum-based Ti Punch. We partied till the wee hours. I am so very grateful to all who traveled from near and far to attend. My many worlds collided, and the result was a supernova of celebratory proportions.
No Baggage: A Minimalist Tale of Love & Wandering by Clara Benson
How often do you get to say that a book changed your life? There have been in the course of my existence a handful of titles that have earned such distinction. They tend to have been written by authors considered masters of their craft: Jane Austen’s Persuasion, William Gibson’s Necromancer, Gabriel García Márquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera, Zadie Smith’s White Teeth.
So far as I can tell, however, Ms. Benson has written just this one slim volume, the incredible tale of her impetuous agreement to join a relatively new beau on a journey to Europe for three weeks of travel…without luggage. The rules? They would each carry an iPhone, a credit card, a spare pair of underwear, a toothbrush (but no tube of toothpaste), and the clothes on their backs. Everything else — including their nightly lodgings and their itinerary from Istanbul, Turkey, to London, England — would be begged, borrowed, bought, or otherwise negotiated on the fly.
I fell in love with this concept almost immediately. I have heretofore been the sort of traveler who still checks a bag. I pack for the “just in case,” stuffing everything from a sewing kit and cold medication to towel anchors and aromatherapy elixirs into my luggage in order to avoid having to go without in any conceivable event.
But minimalist travel plays the odds; I mean, really, how often is there an actual emergency when you’re on the road? Even if there is a legitimate wrinkle, snafu, or situation, can’t it usually be solved through interaction with local merchants or agents or ordinary folk? And isn’t that what travel is ultimately about — immersing one’s self in the rhythms and rituals of new place in order to experience what life is really like there?
Thus have I been converted to (at least) carry-on culture. I have a snazzy hard-sided modest-sized rolling model that will serve as my limit on most trips going forward. And I am keen to buy an impulse airline ticket to an exotic destination and be dropped into a foreign culture with little more than a tote’s worth of items at my disposal for a spell. This is wanderlust with an emphasis on “wander.” Why be weighed down?
The Nth Degree Academy: Journey to Your Dream Job by Tracy Timm
You need a coach. No, seriously — we ALL could use someone whose mission is to support our personal growth and development. I was a skeptic, too, until I made the acquaintance of the effervescent, indefatigable, and wise-beyond-her-years Tracy Timm, career coach extraordinaire.
In January 2019, while floundering to figure out what my next professional step would be after suffering a severe bout of burnout in my previous position, I signed up for a webinar promoted by the Office of Career Services at Yale to alumni looking to find more meaningful work. I had zero expectations; it basically sounded like a free presentation from a smart young woman with something to sell. But I had nothing to left to lose, except 45 minutes in yet another unproductive, demoralizing morning of job searching.
What I heard that day about identifying and pursuing job opportunities in line with well-defined personal values made all kinds of good sense. I registered to take Tracy up on her generous offer of a gratis consultation to see if her program might be of further service to me.
Suffice it to say, Tracy and I clicked right away. Her positive energy and the deftly structured schedule of personal assignments and group progress calls appealed to both the star student and self-help junkie in me. I signed on the dotted line and sent over my deposit for The Nth Degree Academy that very evening, then dove into my homework the next morning.
What I learned about myself over the course of the next eight weeks was nothing short of startling, and it absolutely contributed to my pursuing, being offered, and accepting a job that leverages the skills I most love to use and fills me with satisfaction and joy on a daily basis. Because I can now articulate what I need and desire in my professional life, I make informed, successful career decisions.
Norman Fucking Rockwell by Lana Del Rey
Just listen — the emo girl is all grown up, and she brings her complicated emotions to bear in hauntingly beautiful stead on this album. There have been moments in Ms. Del Rey’s oeuvre in which she’s sounded muted and muffled, seemingly overwhelmed by circumstance and Millennial ennui. Now she wields genuine longing and storytelling skills to great effect; in other words, she’s matured.
Standout cuts for me include “Mariners Apartment Complex” (lyrics from which the above Tumbler image cribs) and “Bartender,” both poignant snapshots of modern life in Greater Los Angeles.
The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Season Two
What can I say? Midge may very well be my spirit animal. She’s feisty, femme, fearless, and she says it like it is! The uninitiated among us might be tempted to reduce her role in society to mere “comedienne,” but I’d argue that she’s much more than that — she’s a “truth-teller,” for better or for worse
Plot précis for those who don’t spring for Amazon Prime or simply haven’t gotten around to watching this show: It’s the late 1950’s in Manhattan, and Miriam Maisel has it all: a handsome college sweetheart turned upwardly mobile husband, two beautiful babies, doting Jewish parents, an apartment on the Upper East Side, a waistline that hasn’t increased a fraction of an inch in a decade, and a wardrobe to die for. But hubby Joel harbors a fantasy that he’s legitimately funny. So, ever supportive, Midge roasts briskets and delivers them to downtown club owners in order to wrangle her man coveted comedy slots on their stages. But one fateful night, Joel reveals his infidelity and decamps, leaving Midge to drown her sorrows in a bottle of the hard stuff and vent her spite on an unsuspecting audience in spectacular fashion. A rising star — the female version of legendary Lenny Bruce — is born.
The reason I am laser-focused on Season Two has to do with a climactic moment in Episode 5, “Midnight at the Concord.” Midge is plying her vulgar trade in the Catskills at a resort adjacent to the one her family patronizes. She’s just launched into a particularly raunchy bit about her parents’ sex life when her mid-distance gaze levels on an unexpected show attendee in the front row — her father, Abe. He’s clearly mortified. She’s momentarily taken aback. But without losing so much as a beat, she plows ahead and lands the punch line, leveraging the resulting raucous laughter to a finish a brilliant set.
Would that I were in possession of a set of balls as big as Miriam Maisel’s. As a creative, I strive to speak about the human condition with honesty and pathos. When Midge spies Abe, I empathize completely with her gut-wrenching, heartbreaking crisis of conscience: to joke or not to joke — to tell the taboo or cut and run. She barely flinches in the face of this challenge, and for that, she’s my heroine.
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And that’s a wrap, folks! It’s been fun and refreshing to reflect on what touched me in 2019. I hope you’ve discovered something of value here. If so — or if you have your own recommendations to add — feel free to do so in the comments below!
