Marginalia

Sample of commentary on Rick Springfield's Magnificent Vibration.

Heather:

I'm going to do something that will make my English colleagues shudder--begin with a definition...

Marginalia, according to The Oxford English Dictionary: Online (oed.com), refers to, "notes, commentary, and similar material written or printed in the margin of a book or manuscript."

I met Jesse two years ago in the middle of the parking lot just outside of my office.  An early summer thunderstorm had knocked out the power to campus and the surrounding area.  Well, I guess that wasn't our initial meeting--we had been introduced to one another previously.  It was, however, our first conversation.  I remember this so well because we talked about books.  He recommended I Am Asher Lev by Chaim Potok and I gave him the names of a few books I had recently enjoyed.   "We're going to be friends," I thought to myself, "he's a reader!"

We did, indeed, develop a friendship that included many discussions about books, super hero movies, student-athletes, food, drive-in movies, and core beliefs.  He even came to Gran's for Thanksgiving dinner in 2012, but that is a story for another time.  

It seems like we have talked about Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick for much of the time we have known one another.  We've discussed the movie and he has been trying to steal my marked up copy to read for a while now.  I had planned on giving him a copy for his graduation, so I was purposefully holding out.  We were out one evening, however, when I discovered another book by Matthew Quick, The Good Luck of Right Now, and purchased it.  I hadn't even read the inside flap.  (This is quite the impulse buy for me. I am known for going to the book store to visit books before I later purchase them.  Yeah, I know how that makes me sound and I'm okay with it.)

I spent the next month or so reading the book and marking it up.  That's right.  I bought the book as a gift and not only did I read it, I wrote things in it.  I commented on things that were happening in the book and I copied down some poetry and I asked questions.  We were in my office late one evening before graduation--he was working on finishing a final paper and I was trying to finish up my own graduate work--when I presented him with the book.  (I'm rather terrible at keeping secrets about gifts, so I gave it to him early.)  "You read it?" he asked.  "And marked it in?"  He seemed a little confused, but it was late and I had interrupted his work.  Later, though, he said how much he had enjoyed both the book and my comments along the way. He even replied to some of them!  I'm rather excited to read the book again (yep, I'll read the whole thing) so I can add his comments to the layers of meaning I found in those pages.

We decided to try it again.  I went to my local book store and asked a clerk I have come to know and trust for a recommendation.  I was handed Magnificent Vibration by Rick Springfield.  I didn't read the flap--I bought the book and headed home to wrap it up.  This time Jesse would get to read the book first and then I would read it with his comments.  I finished the book over the weekend and while it wasn't my cup of tea, I still enjoyed the experience of reading it because I looked forward to reading the marginalia.

Jesse's time in my neck of the woods is drawing to a close.  (Don't tell him, but I'm going to miss the big lug.)  He promises we'll keep in touch through phone calls and text messages, but I look forward to our continued conversations via margins and writing utensils.

My Heart is Broken

Heather:

Back story:  I grew upon a dirt road in rural Southeastern Ohio.  My paternal great-grandmother, Nanny, and her friend, Pauline, lived next door (maybe 100 yards away).  My paternal grandparents, Gran and Pap, lived next door to her.  There weren't many kids my age in the area and Courtney wasn't born until I was seven years old. My playmates were my family and our playground was the 70 acre farm on which the three homes were situated.  Gran and I were great pals from the beginning, or that's the way she told it.  I can tell you that there aren't many memories that don't include her in some way.

The Present:  Gran passed away in the very early hours of May 12.  She was at home and surrounded by her family.  She died as she had lived: on her own terms.

Gran was born on June 6, 1930.  The stories she told were populated by colorful characters that I would have thought fictional if her account of them had not been verified by outside sources.  She taught me how to make lye soap (much to Mom's dismay), how to make a pie crust, and how to love.  Yes, we fought.  We disagreed over politics and how to best wash a car.  She thought I stayed up too late and slept in too late.  In my defense, she went to bed around 8 p.m. (usually after a rousing game of Jeopardy!) and got up somewhere around 5 a.m.  A habit formed in the early years of raising a family and running a farm.

Gran married Pap when she was 16 years old.  She had three children by the time she was 22.  She didn't get her driver's license until she was 29.  Perhaps that is why she was loath to admit that driving had become something she could no longer do.  She told me many times that she wanted her epitaph to be, "She did while she could.  When she couldn't, she died."  It seems fitting that that was the last line of her obituary.

This is the first I've written since her death.  I've tried.  There are so many things I want to write down before they become blurry footnotes of memory, but it has felt wrong.  I try to tell my story to the best of my ability--it seems wrong right now to try to tell her story.  One day I will.  Until then, I will get up every morning and try to attack my day like Gran did--a list of chores sprinkled with breaks to sit on the porch and take in the scene before me.