Things I Never Understood #2: Great Rooms

The Great Room 

A dozen years ago I found myself arguing with a church committee in charge of designing and building a new church parsonage. They had planned for the front door to open into a great room that encompassed the living, dining, and kitchen area.

I was appalled. No parsonage family wanted a parishioner to come to the door and be able to see their private living space. And parishioners did sometimes come to the door to see the pastor. Sometimes strangers with needs came looking for the pastor.

I imagined myself snuggled down in my robe and slippers for a long evening's quilting when the doorbell rings. I would have to scurry into hiding before the door opened, and remain in hiding until they left. What about the toys scattered about, or the dog fur that still needed to be vacuumed up? I would be open to judgement. 

No, I explained, a door opening to show the entire house was against parsonage codes requiring privacy for the pastoral family. They changed to plan to include an entry hallway and a french door to the great room.

Today's Detroit Free Press has an article by Carol J. Alexander about housing trends to come, and she wrote that "open floor plans are out." The pandemic has people working at home and she notes that 

"This year, expect to see homeowners spending less time knocking down walls to open up shared areas, and more time transforming spare rooms or nooks into dedicated spaces. That might mean adding a home office or home theater, for instance, or transforming a nook into a space for distance-learning.Closets have been turned into offices, and extra bedrooms, and basement nooks. People need a room of their own to work in." 

Will the pandemic knoll the end of the Great Room trend?

For most of history, people lived in a shared space, and in many cultures and social strata, shared one bed. The idea of a room of one's own came much later in history. "Privacy was an eighteenth-century innovation," Fernand Braudel wrote in The Structures of Everyday Life. Houses became divided into receptions rooms for entertainment, a public room for show, and private family rooms. Samuel Pepys had his closet where he wrote his diary and kept his books, which he often mentioned in his diary. The concept of privacy gave us houses with many rooms.

So why the Great Room trend? According to television reality show home buyers, it's so that mothers can work in the kitchen and see what the children are doing.

Golly. When I was a tot, Mom set me into a chicken wire fenced area in the yard, gave me some toys, and went back inside to do whatever she was doing. When I became tired and complained, she threw a baggie of crackers out the window. (Of course, those were also the days when parents spanked kids for whining and being defiant and I don't recommend this.)

Me in the yard

When our son was playing outside in the sandbox, I kept an eye on him from the window or the enclosed porch. But when we were indoors, I generally could tell what he was up to without seeing him every minute. And if need be, I set him up with Mr Rogers or Reading Rainbow or Mary Popkins for a while. The hyper-vigilant 1990s Moms thought we were awfully lax. 

And so, open spaces became listed as the number one must for all home buyers. You could watch the kids. You could visit with company while preparing the meal. Women were not isolated in the kitchen while everyone else socialized.

But, all I could think of was the noise! The echoing, endless noise! 

I grew up with walls and rooms in houses built in 1900 and 1920. Our current 1966 home has a living room separate from the eat-in kitchen, which is open to the family room with doors to the patio. This is as 'open concept' as we can tolerate. Hubby complains he can't hear the TV in the family room over the electric tea pot boiling. 

My office is in the largest bedroom, furthest from the television room, with several walls and a hall between me and the kitchen. I can look out the front window and see the pear tree in bloom, watch for deliveries and the mail. And I can write in peace.

What a luxury! To have a room of my own. (And note the colorful walls, also on trend!)

The Decameron Project: 29 Stories from the Pandemic

 When reality is surreal, only fiction can make sense of it.

Early in the lockdown I was jarred by television images of people at parties and large groups, people not wearing masks, family gatherings around dinner tables. None of it reflected my reality: my spouse and I isolated in our home, walking in freezing weather before anyone else was on the street, learning Instacart and Doordash and Zoom.

This collection of stories caught my attention because they were reflections of this new reality. And, seeing the top-notch writers who contributed, I knew I would not be disappointed.

The stories reflect the shifting concerns and fears we experienced and are experiencing.

Oh yes, the early dearth of toilet paper! In a panic, my spouse ordered some from Amazon at an exorbitant cost. It took three months to arrive from Asia. 

Zooming, homeschooling your kids, the obsession with news, watching for a glimmer of hope. The daily deaths. Learning how death can show up any time. 

The fleeting happiness of isolating in place with another. Dreading that this is the new normal for ever. Teenagers obliviously carrying on as usual. Making masks. Scarfing up Chromebooks.

We are sharing a nightmare. Those who escape will be haunted. Some of these stories stick in my mind as perfect reflections of what haunts me.

I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley. My review is fair and unbiased.

The Decameron Project: 29 New Stories from the Pandemic
by The New York Times
Scribner
Pub Date: November 10, 2020  
ISBN: 9781982170790
hardcover $25.00 (USD)

from the publisher:

A stunning collection of new short stories originally commissioned by The New York Times Magazine as the COVID-19 pandemic swept the world, from twenty-nine authors including Margaret Atwood, Tommy Orange, Edwidge Danticat, and more, in a project inspired by Boccaccio’s “The Decameron.”

When reality is surreal, only fiction can make sense of it.

In 1353, Giovanni Boccaccio wrote “The Decameron”: one hundred nested tales told by a group of young men and women passing the time at a villa outside Florence while waiting out the gruesome Black Death, a plague that killed more than 25 million people. Some of the stories are silly, some are bawdy, some are like fables.

In March of 2020, the editors of The New York Times Magazine created The Decameron Project, an anthology with a simple, time-spanning goal: to gather a collection of stories written as our current pandemic first swept the globe. How might new fiction from some of the finest writers working today help us memorialize and understand the unimaginable? And what could be learned about how this crisis will affect the art of fiction?

These twenty-nine new stories, from authors including Margaret Atwood, Tommy Orange, Edwidge Danticat, and David Mitchell vary widely in texture and tone. Their work will be remembered as a historical tribute to a time and place unlike any other in our lifetimes, and offer perspective and solace to the reader now and in a future where coronavirus is, hopefully, just a memory.

Covid19 Life: Week Six of Lockdown

When this photo showed up on my Facebook Memories I thought it was the perfect illustration for lockdown: it's a dangerous world out there. I don't even want to leave the house. Our two-square mile city of 11, 980 people has 54 known COVID-19 cases and 8 deaths.

So we have stayed at home. For six weeks. And we are to remain in social isolation into May.

Well, the battery lawn mower was broke and my husband had to arm himself with a mask and, in fear and trembling, enter the local ACE Hardware to bring home a new one.

We do take daily walks early in the day, 30-40 minutes.

I have been working on my Emily Dickinson quilt. I need to find more fabrics to add to the collages. Just before lockdown the quilters had planned a three stop quilt shop hop and I thought I would find what I wanted then. It didn't happen.

The idea behind the quilt is that Emily Dickinson has many faces.

The woman who avoided visitors and stayed at home and dressed in white.

 The poet who wrote about passionate and dark subjects.

The author of poems filled with images of flowers and bees and birds, the woman who loved to garden.

And the writer of valentine poems, love poetry and letters, a closet romantic. This is the block I most need to develop.

I also am working on embroidering a set of blocks I printed off some time ago featuring Brutus, the cat.

Book mail included Estelle by Linda Steward Henley. The story involves a woman who discovers forgotten history about the artist Edgar Degas.

I purchased Perfume River Nights by Michael P. Mauer set during the Vietnam War.

I am currently reading The Mountains Sing by Nguyen Phan Que Mai, a multigenerational story that takes us into 20th c Vietnamese history.

On the shelf to be read:

• In Search for Safety: Voices of Refugees by Susan Kuklin, a LibraryThing win 
• Death in Mud Lick: A Coal Country Fight against the Drug Companies That Delivered the Opioid Epidemic by Eric Eyre, a Goodreads win
• The Party Upstairs by Lee Conell is set in a NYC apartment house
• A Heart Lost in Wonder by Catharine Randil, a biography of Gerard Manley Hopkins
• Superman is Not Coming to Save You by Erin Brockovitch on water safety
• The Last American Aristocrat by David S. Brown, about Henry Adams
• Magic Lessons by Alice Hoffman, another Owens family prequel
• Pale Morning Light with Violet Swan by Deborah Reed, fiction about a painter
• The Brother Years by Shannon Burke, family drama set in 1970s Chicago
• How Beautiful We Were by Imbolo Mbue, set in Africa, by the author of Behold the Dreamers
• Vesper Flights by Helen MacDonald, essays on nature
• The Lost Pianos of Siberia by Sophy Roberts traces pianos from Siberia
• Bronte's Mistress by Fiona Austin imagines Bronson Bronte's love affair
• Chasing Chopin: A Musical Journey Across Three Centuries, Four Countries, and a Half-Dozen Revolutions by Annik LaFarge
• The Truth About Baked Beans: An Edible New England History by Meg Muckenhoupt

My brother continues to seek out the quiet places. These photos are from his early morning kayaking on the canal behind his home.

We had a social distancing visit with our son, his girl, and the grandpups and Hazel the cat.

Little Sunny wanted so bad to give us kisses! She is about full grown now.

And, I finally found a mask pattern to adapt my way that I can feel good about. I left some with our son and will take some to my brother. In a few weeks my brother will be recalled from working at home to working in Dearborn. 

We also drove to my brother's house and left him some masks and some homemade bread. We stood in the yard, ten feet apart, and caught up.

We watched Star Trek Picard on CBS All Access on a free month trial. And every day I was Sir Patrick Stewart read a Shakespeare sonnet. I enjoy the Detroit Symphony Orchestra's free streaming of past concerts. This month I have enjoyed poetry shared across social media. 

I keep awfully busy!

And of course, we are cooking up a storm.

We don't have many meals with whole chicken, but this version with a honey curry glaze is wonderful.

This French Bean Vegetable Stew from Moosewood is a favorite.

 A simple dinner is gnocchi with white beans, tomatoes and spinach. topped with parmesan cheese.

Chicken and noodles with dumplings is the perfect comfort food.

I hope you are staying home and staying safe.

COVID-19 Stay-Home Life

Pooh Bear and friends in our window for the children to see as they walk by

Life during a pandemic--you know what it's like. You are living it.

Here is it Palm Sunday, which means it's been twenty years since my mother's passing, but I struggle to keep track of time.

a neighbor's Easter egg tree

Social distancing has broken bonds we need more than ever.

I haven't seen my quilt friends for three weeks. One gifted member has suffered a stroke, another lost a grandchild. Snow Birds are unable to travel home from Florida and other states.

Our library book club was cancelled. We were to Skype with Angie Kim about her book Miracle Creek this month. The spring book sale is cancelled. And the city community center's annual spring rummage sale. Both are major sources of funding.

We had tickets to two concerts for the Detroit Symphony--cancelled. All the arts community will be struggling with lost revenue.

It's been almost a month since I saw my fitness coach. She had a week off and then the fitness center closed. Doctor, dentist, and hair appointments were cancelled. My husband had to put off shoulder replacement surgery.

My entire family last gathered on February 2 to celebrate my husband's 70th birthday. The following day we dined with my husband's brother and sister-in-law.

March 12 we last saw our grandpuppies. A week ago, our son and his girl came by and talked to us from their car in the driveway while we stood on the front steps. He sends me pictures, instant messages, calls once a week.

Our grandpup Ellie with spring flowers

Mid-March we made our last shopping trips. Two weeks ago, my husband did a curbside pickup for flour and yeast at Gordon's Foods. He buys in bulk as he bakes all our bread.

We walk the neighborhood for thirty minutes every morning around 8:30 am. It is still cold and we bundle in heavy coats, hats, scarfs. We rarely see another person at this time, or even cars on the road. This Sunday morning we looked down Main Street and there was not a car to be seen within a half mile either direction.

The rest of the day we stay home, in the house or in the yard. There is spring cleanup to do, the rain barrels to set up, bird baths and lawn furniture and a wind chime to put out.

We read. I write reviews. I play the piano and sew a bit. My masks are quite awful. I will try a new pattern.

We make soups for lunch. We make comfort foods for dinner.

Chicken noodles with dumplings

We watch an hour or two of television in the evening. We found a British YA series that has no doctors or death in the stories. I spend too much time surfing social media, playing iPad puzzles and games.

part of our Imperfect Produce delivery

Our son encouraged us to subscribe to Imperfect Produce last winter. Now we are grateful for weekly orders of fresh produce.

It took days to find an Instacart opening, but I got an order in for delivered groceries and supplies to come next week. Two weeks ago, my husband ordered toilet paper through Amazon; it is to come next week. I ordered new ink cartridges for my printer, and medicine I need, and the eye drops and mouthwash that help my Sjogren's syndrome symptoms, all to be delivered.

I ordered books. Nguyen Phan Que Mai was author host last week for the American Historical Novels Facebook page, talking about her first novel. She was such a lovely person and her story compelling. I ordered her novel The Mountains Sing from Algonquin books.

And with it, Emily Dickinson's Gardening Life by Marta McDowell, to be part of my reading on Dickinson.

The mail lady has only been working three hour days, delivering packages and the rare first class bill or letter. She told us she will use her time off and stay home for three weeks.

We have two police cars that patrol our two-mile square city. One stopped to talk, saying he was impressed by our determination to walk every day so early.

On our walks, when we see the trash and recycling and yard waste collectors we greet them and thank them, hope they stay safe.

Every few days we place a delivery order from one of our local independent restaurants. We don't need the food. We don't want to lose these businesses that make our downtown vibrant. Our favorite restaurant closed weeks ago and is not delivering. The owner, an immigrant, is a wonderful man and the restaurant was always filled to capacity. He recently remodeled; he told us his customers deserved an attractive environment.

The elementary school across the street has been closed for weeks. Even the marquee sign is now dark. The playground, like those in the parks and other schools, and the skate park and stadium and tennis courts and baseball diamonds, is closed. Usually we see children playing all day long and after hours and on weekend. Just before lockdown, the teachers had a parade through town to wave at their students, with the police and fire department escorting them.

Detroit has been hit hard by the virus and the hospitals are struggling. My brother's girlfriend, a nurse, was told to stay home for a week; she works in colonoscopy which is elective and tests have been canceled. The hospitals are losing money without tests and elective surgeries. Supplies are running out. Three Detroit nurses died of COVID-19 last week.

My brother is a Ford engineer and has worked from home for several weeks. He was told to take next week off. He and his girlfriend seek out hidden places to walk as the county and state parks are full of people.

An undisclosed Michigan Lake, photo by my brother

Later in the day, after the temperatures rise, families are out walking or biking, couples walk their dogs, people jog. We watch out the window.

Children leave chalk messages on the sidewalks. Picture windows are filled with signs of support or have Teddy Bears or Christmas candle lights. Yard signs send messages of care.

The grass is green. The robins are back. The sparrows have claimed the bird house for their nesting site. We saw a bunny in the yard. The daffodils will soon bloom. Buds are on the flowering trees.

Spring with its new life and beauty will be a stark contrast to the news filled with human suffering.

In today's Detroit Free Press, Mitch Albom shares his COVID-19 story. He writes,

"...if all we do is swim in those sad waters, we will lose sight of any shore. We will drift into people we don’t recognize, and do things we never thought we would do.
"Our humanity will be what saves us in this pandemic. Small acts. Like the people who leave toilet paper on their porches for delivery workers. Or the sewing machines now humming to stitch masks. Or the folks who serenade one another across apartment house balconies.
"One thing. Find it. The one positive. The one joy you’d forgotten about. The one part of the day that brings you peace. And cling to it..."

Read it at
https://www.freep.com/story/sports/columnists/mitch-albom/2020/04/05/coronavirus-covid-19-mitch-albom-michigan/2947780001/

Stay inside. Stay safe.